tf-na+n the JMuiaitf. 
 
 * 7 he Pev.rf-'iede/ucJz Sdutasidi. 
 {ptuH&ilif, jbea+t of 
 
 St. Pcmli Gatlteclial, 
 jbefoait, MidtUfO+t 
 wlta died October ■Lwctlt, 194-8 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2018 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 https://archive.org/details/eventsinlifeofse01davi 
 
EVENTS 
 
 THE LITE OE A SEER; 
 
 BEING 
 
 MEMORANDA OF AUTHENTIC FACTS 
 
 IN 
 
 MAGNETISM, CLAIRVOYANCE, SPIRITUALISM. 
 
 BY 
 
 ANDREW JACKSON DAVIS. 
 
 WITH A 1ST APPENDIX, 
 
 CONTAINING ZSCHOKKHS GREAT STORY OF “ HORTENSIA,” VIVIDLY 
 PORTRAYING THE WIDE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE ORDI¬ 
 NARY STATE AND THAT OF CLAIRVOYANCE. 
 
 8IXTH EDITION. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 BANNER OF LIGHT 
 PUBLISHING COMPANY. 
 
I 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by 
 ANDREW JACKSON DAVIS, 
 
 in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for th« 
 District of New Jersey. 
 
 / 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 ) 
 
 P 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED: 
 
 FIRST—10 PROUD MEN IN SCIENCE ; 
 
 Hamlet. —Come hither, gentlemen. .. .Once more, good friends. 
 
 Horatio. —....But this is wondrous strange ! 
 
 Hamlet. —And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in 
 heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. 
 
 SECOND,- TO MORALISTS OF EVERY SCHOOL; 
 
 Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just— 
 
 And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
 
 Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.— Shakespeare. 
 
 THIRD,- TO ANTI-PROGRESSIVE CHRISTIANS; 
 
 Quench not the spirit; despise not prophesyings. Prove all things; hold fnst 
 that which is good. — Paul. 
 
 FOURTH,— TO RETICENT MEN OF IDEAS; 
 
 No object really interests us but man, and in man only his superiorities _ Every 
 
 man Is entitled to be valued at his best moments....I look upon the simple and 
 childish virtues of veracity and honesty as the root of all that is sublime in character. 
 ...Speak as you think, be what you are, pay your debts of all kinds. — Emerson. 
 
 FIFTH.- TO TIMID MEN IN ALL PROFESSIONS; 
 
 Any theory, hypothesis, philosophy, sect, creed, or institution, that fears invest!* 
 gation, openly manifests its own error.— Davis. 
 
 SIXTH,- TO EXCLUSIVES IN ALL RELIGIONS; 
 
 Let no one call God, Father, who calls not Man, Brother.—A Spirit. 
 
 LASTLY,- TO ALL HUMAN KIND, 
 
 WITH THE FRATERNAL LOVE OF THEIR FRIEND AND BROTHER, 
 
 Okangb, N. J., March 16, 1S6S. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
6 
 
 PUBLISHERS INTRODUCTION. 
 
 “ if they are to profit by the lessons of history, they 
 ought, after surveying these mortifying examples of 
 human weakness and wickedness, to dismiss from their 
 minds every prejudice against the present subject 
 founded on its hostile reception by men of established 
 reputation of the present day.” And he adds, that, 
 “ if the new theory should prove true, posterity will 
 view the contumelies heaped on its founders as another 
 dark speck In the history of discovery ; and that he who 
 wishes to avoid all participation in this ungenerous 
 treatment should dismiss prejudice and calmly listen to 
 evidence and reason, and thus not encounter the chance 
 of adding his name to the melancholy list of the 
 enemies of mankind by refusing, on the strength of 
 mere prejudice, to be instructed in the new doctrines 
 when submitted to his consideration.” 
 
 The appendix to this volume contains Zschokke’s 
 remarkable and instructive story of the “Transfigura¬ 
 tions,” illustrating the curative power of human mag¬ 
 netism, and the spiritual beauty and purity of the 
 “superior condition;” and, also, a carefully compiled, 
 instructive, and most cheering history of the introduc¬ 
 tion of the Harmonial Philosophy into Germany. 
 
MEMORANDA 
 
 i. 
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE DARK. 
 
 New York, November 1 1th, 1845. 
 
 I do not mean to think myself over-taxed or discon¬ 
 tented, for this is not true. But my life is immersed in 
 a sea of uncertainty. Late this afternoon I returned 
 from a toilsome journey,* the incidents whereof so soon 
 have passed out of memory! I dimly recall mud- 
 puddles, streets, ferry-boats, oil-barrels, sea-chests, a 
 dismal vault, tobacco smoke, torches, and the features 
 of gypsy-looking men and women. But it is vanishing 
 while I write, like the “ baseless fabric of a vision ; ” 
 yet, incredible as it may seem to others, I have a feel¬ 
 ing of positiveness that it was a real journey, and not a 
 dream. It sometimes seems to me that I shall be the 
 happiest boy in the world when the time comes for me 
 to recollect and comprehend all the wonderful things I 
 hear about myself. 
 
 * Further information concerning this experience maybe found in the 
 “Present Age and Inuor Life," p. 181, et seq. 
 
8 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 2 . 
 
 TWO LIVES IN ONE BOY. 
 
 No. 92 Greene Street, New York, November 28 th, 1845. 
 
 It is said that I am to begin a “ Course of Lectures ” 
 to-night in the presence of witnesses ! Why isn’t my 
 heart fluttering and palpitating beneath this over¬ 
 whelming mysterious responsibility ? Was any other 
 boy ever so situated, and so uncomfortably perplexed 
 about himself? I am sure that I have not a word of a 
 “ Lecture ” in my mind. These two boys—or, rather, 
 this one boy with his two lives—bother and confuse 
 me. The boy in his natural state knows nothing of the 
 same boy in the magnetic state. They tell me what 
 was done when I am treating the sick, and they read to 
 me the notes they took of what was said ; but it seems 
 like an account of the doings and speeches of a person 
 living in a distant country.I am wonder¬ 
 
 ing every few moments whether it will be possible for 
 that other boy to lecture to-night? And, if he does, 
 what sort of a discourse will it be 1 
 
PRESENTIMENT OF A SUICIDE. 
 
 9 
 
 3. 
 
 PRESENTIMENT OF A SUICIDE. 
 
 Tuesday, November 'iOth, 1845. 
 
 Returning from my customary walk this morning, I 
 chanced to meet a large crowd of Irish women and 
 children in the highest state of excitement. A by¬ 
 stander said they were nonsensically quarreling and 
 fighting because one of the women had in a lit of anger 
 kicked another’s barking cur down the stairs. But 
 whatever the cause of the disturbance, the row-loving 
 inhabitants ran out from their garrets and basements, 
 and in a few minutes the street was so crammed with 
 participants and spectators that the police had to inter¬ 
 fere. But my attention was by some means attracted 
 to a silent and sad-looking aged German woman stand¬ 
 ing on the opposite sidewalk, wrapped in an old worn- 
 out shawl, her once rather beautiful features disfigured 
 by disease and shriveled by poverty and despair. As 
 I looked at her, all forgetful of the great fight going on 
 about the kicked dog, I saw a thick mist, resembling a 
 black crape veil, drop in the twinkling of an eye be¬ 
 tween her face and the outside world! “ Poor, sad 
 
 soul!” I instantly thought, “your hours on earth are 
 numbered.” The recollection of her unhappy face 
 haunted me all the rest of the day. Taking up a re- 
 
10 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 cent morning paper, I read of a similar case: “An 
 elderly woman, who resided with her two sons in Hester 
 Street, committed suicide yesterday afternoon by hang¬ 
 ing. The act was committed in her bedroom, by 
 means of a piece of muslin, which had been torn from a 
 sheet, one end of which was attached to a hook used for 
 hanging up a looking-glass, and the other end was tied 
 in a noose around the neck of deceased. When discov¬ 
 ered, life was extinct. The coroner being notified, pro¬ 
 ceeded to the house, but, one of the sons being absent 
 and the other drunk, he was unable to gain any particu¬ 
 lars, and therefore postponed the inquest until to-day.” 
 
 4 . 
 
 VISIT FROM REV. SOLOMON SOBERTHOUGHT, LL. D. 
 
 New York, December 4th, 1845. 
 
 Restored to my ordinary state—from the ever-mys- 
 terious state of magnetic physical slumber, which with 
 me is invariably accompanied by a peculiar mental 
 transformation—the first word I heard spoken by a 
 stranger in the room sounded like “ Anagosteleon” 
 
 On looking around the parlor, I was astonished and 
 embarrassed because of the great number of strangers 
 present, mostly patients, or applicants for treatment, 
 as I supposed; and among them was a stout, red-faced, 
 big-stomached, ancient, ecclesiastical personage, dressed 
 in black, a white handkerchief around his neck, his 
 scholarly face well-shaved, and his nose bearing aloft a 
 pair of heavy gold spectacles. “ The boy’s clairvoyance,” 
 
EXTRAORDINARY MENTAL PHENOMENA. 
 
 11 
 
 he said, addressing the gentleman at his elbow, “ is 
 absolutely of no importance.” The other inquired, 
 “ Did the boy not correctly translate the words ? ” 
 “ Tolerably,” he pompously replied, “ but with in¬ 
 numerable misspellings, involving awkwardness of ex¬ 
 pression, with not the least accuracy as to the street, 
 
 house, and situation of the furniture.”. 
 
 Subsequently I asked the magnetizer (Dr. Lyon) who 
 it was, and what it all meant. lie said the gentleman 
 
 was Rev. Dr. G-, of New York, who came with 
 
 the avowed “ intention ” of demolishing clairvoyance 
 as a monstrous invention of the devil. The Doctor said 
 that I answered the questions of the round-counte¬ 
 nanced and large-bodied minister in a foreign language, 
 either Greek or Hebrew, he thought, which, at the time, 
 the distinguished ecclesiastic seemed to understand, 
 for his questions were apparently answered by me in 
 his own tongue; but what was meant by the word 
 “Anagnostos,” or “ Anagosteleon ,” which he pronounced 
 erroneous, I did not learn. This large-bodied clergy¬ 
 man represents a class of prejudiced persons who resolve, 
 before investigation, not to be influenced by any facts 
 they may witness. Such visits are becoming frequent. 
 
 5. 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY MENTAL PHENOMENA. 
 
 24 Vesey Street, New York, January 13 th, 1846. 
 
 The Lectures begin to excite a wide-spread interest 
 in private circles. No person can be more excited with 
 
12 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 curiosity than myself. I have been stationed all this 
 morning in my “ sleeping chair,” examining diseased 
 strangers—women, men, children, whom I have never 
 seen with my natural ej^es, and may never meet 
 again. It sometimes seems to me that I am situated 
 half-way toward the center of an unknown world. I 
 suppose that all this magnetizing for years is for some 
 beneficent purpose. Possibly, I am gaining a knowl¬ 
 edge of something which no other pathway could lead 
 to. My toil does not weary my muscles, like the cold 
 and dull work of earth-plodders, who take no soul-in¬ 
 terest in what they do from day to day. Yet a dark¬ 
 some uncertainty occasionally envelops my mind, which 
 is a weariness and a constraint; and sometimes I 
 almost wish, with a good deal of impatience, that the 
 end had come. 
 
 This morning, at 12, m., when the Doctor restored 
 me from clairvoyance to full bodily wakefulness, a 
 friend took from his pocket the New York Tribune , 
 bearing to-day’s date, and read aloud the following 
 letter, written by the honored Scribe, thus :— 
 
 To the Editor of the Tribune: 
 
 Induction from tangible objects in the external world 
 constituting, as it does, the common and habitual mode 
 of reasoning, the public mind is naturally disposed to 
 skepticism respecting alleged phenomena, the causes of 
 which are not directly perceptible to the senses. At 
 the back of all the visible operations of nature, how¬ 
 ever, there is a hidden cause, to which all mechanical 
 and organic causes are but secondary and subordinate; 
 and the admission of this undeniable fact should open 
 
EXTRAORDINARY MENTAL PHENOMENA. 
 
 IS 
 
 our minds to conviction of well-attested phenomena, 
 especially as connected with the mysterious economy 
 of mind —whether these do or do not agree with pre¬ 
 vious experience, or point to a definite and adequate 
 cause. Philosophers, for instance, have never succeed¬ 
 ed in demonstrating to the senses any theory of the 
 cause of gravitation / yet the fact undeniably exists. 
 Physiologists have never demonstrated the cause of 
 natural somnambulism , and the surprising phenomena 
 usually attending it; yet these facts also exist, and are 
 acknowledged by all. If, then, tangible and well- 
 attested instances of the phenomena known as Animal 
 Magnetism and Clairvoyance are produced, should not 
 these, in like manner, be acknowledged as true, even 
 though their causes could not be directly traced ? 
 
 These considerations, superadded to the fact that 
 many of the profoundest thinkers, both in this country 
 and in Europe, have been forced to believe in the 
 sciences last named, will, we hope, prepare the reader 
 at least to bestow a respectful attention upon the fol¬ 
 lowing statements, to test the truth or falsity of which 
 we earnestly invite the most searching investigation. 
 
 Mr. A. J. Davis, extensively known as the “ Pough¬ 
 keepsie Clairvoyant,” is among the very few persons 
 in the world whom magnetism places in a state entirely 
 beyond the control of the operator’s will, and all other 
 influences of the external world. In the less perfect 
 stages of magnetic somnambulism, the mental suscepti¬ 
 bilities are so enhanced, and the imagination is so 
 exalted, as to give the vividness of real fact to the 
 mere conceptions of fancy; and hence the accounts of 
 such clairvoyants are not always to be depended upon 
 
14 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 Mr. Davis explains these facts in his clairvoyant state, 
 and claims, and shows by a process of connected rea¬ 
 soning, that he is in that highest state of magnetism, in 
 which the physical system of himself and that of the 
 operator form one being in all its magnetic forces ; and 
 that the vital action of the body being thus sustained 
 sympathetically by the operator, the presence of the 
 mental essence is not necessary to continue these func¬ 
 tions ; and that hence the mind, for the time being, is 
 able to free itself from the organization, and to view- 
 existences both in the material and spiritual world, 
 with that unclouded perception with which they would 
 be viewed by a disembodied spirit. He says that the 
 state in which he is placed is analagous to that of death 
 —only that the mind is still connected with the body by 
 an exceedingly rare and subtle medium, such as connects 
 one thought with another; and by the same medium, 
 the mind, after making an excursion for information, 
 returns to the body to communicate its impressions. 
 
 I will not trouble you, Mr. Editor, with a recital of 
 the wonders he performs while in the clairvoyant 
 state. Suffice it to say, he seems to have access to 
 every species of information. The human system par¬ 
 ticularly, it would seem, is perfectly transparent before 
 him; and his examinations of its condition, and pre¬ 
 scriptions for its diseases, evince a clearness of percep¬ 
 tion and accuracy of judgment truly surprising; and 
 hundreds have experienced the benefits of his treat¬ 
 ment. He uses the technical language of Anatomy 
 and Physiology, and with the whole range of Materia 
 Medica he seems perfectly familiar; though in his 
 waking state his acquirements are singularly deficient, 
 
EXTRAORDINARY MENTAL PHENOMENA. 
 
 15 
 
 his education liaving been confined to five months’ 
 tuition in a common school ! These statements, I 
 grant, would at first view appear improbable; but if 
 not true , they will be publicly contradicted by some 
 one of the numerous persons who know Mr. Davis in 
 his two states. 
 
 But the main object of this communication is to 
 speak of a course of Lectures which Mr. Davis is now 
 engaged in delivering, while in the clairvoyant state, 
 concerning matters pertaining both to the material and 
 spiritual world. These are delivered in the presence 
 of Dr. S. S. Lyon, his magnetizer, 24 Vesey Street, the 
 writer of this, who reports them for publication, and 
 one or more of three witnesses, appointed to be present 
 during their delivery, that they may testify to the 
 medium through which the communication is given to 
 the world. These witnesses are : Rev. J. Parker, 129 
 Avenue D.; Isaac S. Smith, M. D., 384 Broome Street; 
 and Mr. Theron R. Lapham, 236 Canal Street. 
 
 Mr. Davis commences his work by a description of 
 the evils which have in past ages, and which do still 
 afflict society, and shows that these can not much longer 
 continue. He shows that the remedy of these will, in 
 general terms, consist in moral and intellectual pro¬ 
 gression. He opens a new field of progress in estab¬ 
 lishing a new ground of reasoning. He clearly and 
 fully establishes the important conclusion, that the 
 proper reality of all things consists in an inward invisi¬ 
 ble pt'inciple; and that the tangible objects of the 
 external world are mere transient forms which this 
 principle has assumed as its effects and ultimates. 
 He clearly and intelligibly explains the phenomena 
 
18 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 wliat good there is in this overpowering impressibility. 
 It often makes me very weary and strangely anxious, 
 as though I had on my heart the great weight of the 
 misery of whole families in the city. I am perfectly 
 willing to help the poor and unhappy to the extent of 
 my power ; but I can not consent to waste my strength 
 in feeling without benefiting somebody. Perhaps this 
 great sensitiveness, so much increased of late, may result 
 in something useful. 
 
 7. 
 
 PROF. GEORGE BUSH A2TD EDGAR A. POE. 
 
 Xett Yop.k, January 19, 1846. 
 
 These gentlemen are attracted by the Scribe’s recent 
 article published in the T'riJjune. It is said that they 
 belong to that wonderful class of college-educated per¬ 
 sons called “literati? But to me they are simply 
 human beings—sacred and fearful, as is every thing that 
 represents the indestructible qualities of the human 
 mind. Prof. Bush’s face shines with a rare religious 
 emanation. His presence causes one to think of a holy 
 and profoundly learned man living in ancient Jerusa¬ 
 lem. His eyes look into oriental mysteries, and his 
 voice, although not unpleasant, sounds as from the bot¬ 
 tom of a deep well. They whisper that he is Professor 
 of Hebrew in the University of Yew York. 
 
 Edgar A. Poe’s personal presence conveys me, in 
 feeling, to a beauteous fieid. or to a kind of blooming 
 valley, surrounded by a high wall of craggy mountains. 
 
VISION OF A MEDICAL CLAIRVOYANT. 
 
 19 
 
 So high appear these mountains that the sun can 
 scarcely shine over their summits during any portion 
 of the twenty-four hours. There is, too, something un¬ 
 natural in his voice, and something dispossessing in his 
 manners. He is. in spirit, a foreigner. My sympathies 
 are strangely excited. There are conflicting breathings 
 of commanding power in his mind. But as he walked in 
 through the hall, and again when he left, at the conclu¬ 
 sion of his call, I saw a perfect shadow of himself in 
 the air in front of him. as though the sun was constantly 
 shining behind and casting shadows before him, causing 
 the singular appearance of one walking into a dark fog 
 produced by himself. 
 
 s. 
 
 DEMONSTRATION OF THE VISION OF A MEDICAL CLAIR¬ 
 VOYANT. 
 
 Nfw Toes. March 10. 1S46. 
 
 The newspapers and magazines are teeming with 
 slashing discussions upon the subject of Magnetism 
 and Clairvoyance. Miss Martineau's Letters on Mag¬ 
 netism give the materialistic solution of all these per¬ 
 plexing mental phenomena, which is generally received, 
 showing that ** it is neither imposture on the one hand, 
 nor a revelation on the other," The religious press 
 is unanimous in condemnation. The following para¬ 
 graphs. from the pen of a distinguished magazinist. em¬ 
 bodies the theory most generally accepted at this time 
 Vi.c.. twenty-two years ago), and it is doubtless the con¬ 
 viction of many at all times: — 
 
18 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 what good there is in this overpowering impressibility. 
 It often makes me very weary and strangely anxious, 
 as though I had on my heart the great weight of the 
 misery of whole families in the city. I am perfectly 
 willing to help the poor and unhappy to the extent of 
 my power; but I can not consent to waste my strength 
 in feeling without benefiting somebody. Perhaps this 
 great sensitiveness, so much increased of late, may result 
 in something useful. 
 
 7. 
 
 PROF. GEORGE BUSH AND EDGAR A. POE. 
 
 New York, January 19, 1846. 
 
 These gentlemen are attracted by the Scribe’s recent 
 article published in the Tribune. It is said that they 
 belong to that wonderful class of college-educated per¬ 
 sons called li l$teratiT But to me they are simply 
 human beings—sacred and fearful, as is every thing that 
 represents the indestructible qualities of the human 
 mind. Prof. Bush’s face shines with a rare religious 
 emanation. TIis presence causes one to think of a holy 
 and profoundly learned man living in ancient Jerusa¬ 
 lem. His eyes look into oriental mysteries, and his 
 voice, although riot unpleasant, sounds as from the bot¬ 
 tom of a deep well. They whisper that he is Professor 
 of Hebrew in the University of Hew York. 
 
 Edgar A. Poe’s personal presence conveys me, in 
 feeling , to a beauteous field, or to a kind of blooming 
 valley, surrounded by a high wall of craggy mountains. 
 
VISION OF A MEDICAL CLAIRVOYANT. 
 
 19 
 
 So high appear these mountains that the sun can 
 scarcely shine over their summits during any portion 
 of the twenty-four hours. There is, too, something un¬ 
 natural in his voice, and something dispossessing in his 
 manners. He is. in spirit, a foreigner. My sympathies 
 are strangely excited. There are conflicting breathings 
 of commanding power in his mind. But as he walked in 
 through the hall, and again when he left, at the conclu¬ 
 sion of his call, I saw a perfect shadow of himself in 
 the air in front of him, as though the sun was constantly 
 shining behind and casting shadows before him, causing 
 the singular appearance of one walking into a dark fog 
 produced by himself. 
 
 8 . 
 
 DEMONSTRATION OF THE VISION OF A MEDICAL CLAIR¬ 
 VOYANT. 
 
 New York, March 10, 1846. 
 
 The newspapers and magazines are teeming with 
 slashing discussions upon the subject of Magnetism 
 and Clairvoyance. Miss Martineau’s Letters on Mag¬ 
 netism give the materialistic solution of all these per¬ 
 plexing mental phenomena, which is generally received, 
 showing that “it is neither imposture on the one hand, 
 nor a revelation on the other.” The religious press 
 is unanimous in condemnation. The following para¬ 
 graphs, from the pen of a distinguished magazinist, em¬ 
 bodies the theory most generally accepted at this time 
 (i.e., twenty-two years ago), and it is doubtless the con¬ 
 viction of many at all times:— 
 
20 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 “ Coleridge preserved the anecdote of an ignorant Dutch charm 
 bermaid, who, when suffering from delirium, raved in excellent 
 Hebrew, to the religious wonderment of all the simple neighbors. 
 They thought the woman seized with ‘the gift of tongues,’ 
 until some scientific visitors explained the miracle by tracing her 
 former domestication with a worthy clergyman who used to read 
 Hebrew aloud in his study, while his female servant dusted his 
 books of a morning. It was then agreed by the wiser ones, that 
 the mechanical impressions daguerreotyped upon the girl’s senses 
 in former years, were simply reproduced by congestion of the 
 brain (just as the flame brings out letters traced with lemon 
 juice on paper, thus hinting at the properties of a more appall¬ 
 ing kind of fire), even as we have attempted to show how such 
 images may recur, when commenting upon Admiral Beaufort’s 
 letter in a late number of this journal. 
 
 “ The most startling phenomena of mesmerism, as now admit¬ 
 ted by all intelligent observers to have a real existence, are, to 
 our satisfaction at least, traceable to and explainable by the solu¬ 
 tion which these anecdotes offer to a most interesting problem. 
 The testimony to the sympathetic influence of one brain upon 
 another, in certain conditions of the system of the operator and 
 patient, can not at this day be set aside; but the testimony as to 
 any new impressions which were not before in the brain of the 
 operator or patient, manifesting themselves from the mind of the 
 latter when in an abnormal condition, stands by no means upon the 
 same indisputable grounds of evidence. The phenomena of the 
 one case, though not yet brought within the acknowledged pale 
 of science, have been known to scientific men for ages. The pre¬ 
 ternatural claims in the other case, though not less old, have in 
 every instance been set aside when carefully examined by the en¬ 
 lightened physiologist. Nor do we think that clairvoyance has 
 necessarily any connection with the well-accredited phenomena of 
 catalepsy as a natural malady, or as artificially produced by what 
 is called mesmerism.” 
 
 The hypothesis that clairvoyance is simply a repro¬ 
 duction of mental impressions, is overthrown by a fact 
 
VISION OF A MEDICAL CLAIRVOYANT. 
 
 21 
 
 which has just been made public. The clairvo) T ant disa¬ 
 grees with the surgeons concerning the position and in¬ 
 side dependencies of a tumor on her own shoulder-blade. 
 Her perceptions are proved correct, and the tumor is ex¬ 
 tracted while she is physically unconscious under the 
 magnetic influence. The whole case is familiarly re¬ 
 ported by a correspondent to the Telegraph, as follows: 
 
 I see there is a good deal about human magnetism 
 in the Telegraph , especially in the last number, and not 
 a few hesitate about believing all of it. Such things do 
 appear strange; but then the mystery is, that people 
 have not become acquainted with these natural powers of 
 the human system before ; and that they are so unwill¬ 
 ing to believe the vast amount of evidence that is being 
 accumulated on this subject. But the philosophy of 
 the phenomena has nut been satisfactorily explained ; 
 and we are so constituted as to be strongly inclined to 
 disbelieve what we can not account for: unless the evi¬ 
 dence of its existence comes to us through such a me¬ 
 dium as to leave no room for the possibility of deception. 
 And some of its developments are so very wonderful, 
 and exhibit capabilities of mind so far beyond what has 
 been heretofore considered the scope of the human intel¬ 
 lect, that I should hardly write such facts as come 
 under my observation, were it not for the expectation 
 that some editor will ere long exhibit the rationale of 
 the whole thing; in such a light as to leave it as clear 
 from mystery as the most simple manifestations of ani¬ 
 mated beings. 
 
 A few days since I was at Mr. Tuttle’s, in Byron, 
 Genesee Co., whose wife has created no little excitement 
 by her wonderful clairvoyant powers, which have, for the 
 
22 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 most part, been manifested in examinations of diseases, 
 and prescriptions for them ; and I shall now give you 
 something of an account of her, and her opinions in 
 this department. You are aware that I called upon 
 them last November, when, for the purpose of witness¬ 
 ing her powers, I had her make an examination of my¬ 
 self, which she did to perfection, commencing with the 
 first causes of ill-health, and tracing their effects upon 
 the system up to that time; mentioning particularly 
 the time when the effect of too severe application to 
 study obliged me to leave school with blighted hopes 
 and dark prospects. Satisfied with her knowledge of 
 the to us unperceivable works of the human system, I 
 requested a remedy ; and have used it since with quite 
 as much benefit as she promised, and such as to open a 
 door of hope for the future which had for a long time 
 been pretty much closed. 
 
 The commencement of her clairvoyant operations 
 was entirely accidental, or providential, she having been 
 at first magnetized for a different purpose, and having 
 no expectation nor desire for that celebrity which is 
 beginning to result from it; having been, as she said, 
 brought up in Tonawanda swamp, and desiring to live 
 and die in the neighborhood of her nativity, unknown 
 beyond the narrow circle of her early acquaintance. But 
 being afflicted with a large tumor upon the left shoul¬ 
 der, which it was necessary to have removed, she was 
 magnetized for that purpose by Mr. Joseph C. "Walker, 
 who was at the time engaged in teaching the common 
 school in the vicinity. Among her first clairvoyant 
 developments was a statement respecting the position 
 of some parts of the tumor, in which she disagreed with 
 
VISION OF A MEDICAL CLAIRVOYANT. 
 
 23 
 
 the surgeons, which she could not have known from 
 sensation, and which proved to be correct when the 
 operation was performed. This was done while she 
 was in the magnetized state, and without pain, though 
 the tumor was from two to three inches in extent, and 
 fast to the shoulder-blade, which was scraped, to insure 
 the complete removal of all possible remnants of the 
 tumor. On being awakened, this arm was left para¬ 
 lyzed, and it was some time before she became conscious 
 of what had been done, she having been told before be¬ 
 ing magnetized that the operation was to be performed 
 the next day, which was done to prevent her from being 
 agitated, as this might have prevented a good sleep: 
 but on coming into this condition she immediately un¬ 
 deceived herself, and told the hour at which Dr. Coates 
 would arrive, and the object of his visit. This was on 
 the 17th of February, 1846.* 
 
 She in this state prescribed the treatment for the 
 wound, and also for her friends who wished her to do 
 so; but this brought her in contact with the interests 
 of certain professional men, who, because their craft 
 was in danger, took all possible methods to destroy her 
 influence, and who, finding all other means insufficient, 
 hesitated not themselves, or by instigating others, to 
 attack that character for virtuous integrity which all 
 noble-minded females prize above all price. But dis- 
 
 * Although twenty-two years have elapsed since this test-case of 
 clairvoyance was reported, I have the pleasure to record that I am per¬ 
 sonally acquainted with the celebrated clairvoyant, Mrs. Tuttle, and with 
 her excellent magnetizer, Mr. J. C. Walker (my wife’s half-brother), and 
 can testify that her powers are giving daily satisfaction to the sick who 
 apply. Her address is as above. 
 
24 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 creet in the manner of transacting their business, the 
 family exhibited no flaw upon which the approaching 
 demon of slander could rest his polluted and polluting 
 foot; and with full confidence in the noble nature of 
 the mission, and in the ultimate triumph of truth, 
 they kept steadily on their course, bravely stemming 
 the strong torrents of abuse, obloquy, scorn, contempt, 
 and derision with which the enemies of magnetic sci¬ 
 ence endeavored to overwhelm them. And many are 
 those who are and will be thankful that they did, for 
 numbers are the cures they have performed, and which 
 are being performed, through Mrs. T.’s prescriptions; 
 many of which cases have baffled the skill of all medi¬ 
 cal practitioners, and for the cure of which hope had 
 ceased to promise, until, by the aid of a mind in its 
 unclouded independence of sensation, the nature of the 
 diseases were pointed out, and the proper remedies pre¬ 
 scribed. 
 
 And in her examinations and prescriptions it matters 
 not whether the patients be present or absent, nor 
 whether they send by their friends or by letter—all that 
 is necessary being the knowledge that some person, 
 somewhere, is desirous of being favored with such in¬ 
 formation and advice respecting his health, as she is 
 capable of giving, while in that state of unclouded vision 
 in which the wonderful workings of vitality become 
 an unsealed book, and when not only are its present 
 operations, but its past, and future, spread as on an 
 open page before the mind. That she does perfectly 
 read the history of disease, hundreds are ready to tes¬ 
 tify ; and that she understands what remedies are suit¬ 
 able, very many of these are equally satisfied by having 
 
THE EIGHTH AND NINTH PLANETS. 
 
 25 
 
 used them with success. And though she is rather 
 averse to explore other departments, it is not because 
 they are any the less clearly discernable, for the most 
 subtile works of the mind are equally manifest to her; 
 so that the most secret thoughts, whether present or 
 past, are as clearly manifest to her as if transcribed in 
 the plainest characters. It is therefore useless for per¬ 
 sons to attempt to play a game upon her, for, perceiving 
 their object, she is sure to give them any others than an¬ 
 swers with which they could be pleased. Kesting upon 
 the consciousness of her own integrity, and standing far 
 above the petty considerations which induce the grovel¬ 
 ing to deceive, she disdains to say aught for the purpose 
 of convincing those who are unwilling to accord to her 
 that honesty of purpose and power of perception of 
 which she is so perfectly conscious. 
 
 9. 
 
 DISCOVERY OF AN EIGHTH AND NINTH PLANET BY AN 
 INTERIOR LIGHT. 
 
 252 Spring Street, New York, October 30, 1846. 
 
 This glorious morning—the beginning of a great 
 golden autumnal day—brought one of our patients, a 
 distinguished Wall Street banker, earlier than was usual 
 for our medical examinations to commence.- He held 
 in his hand Mr. Greeley’s Tribune , which, he said, 
 “ contained a very interesting letter from the Scribe.’' 1 
 It being agreeable to all present, he proceeded to read, 
 as follows:— 
 
 2 
 
20 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 To the Editor of the Tribune :— 
 
 From a paragraph in the Tribune of the 28th ult. 5 
 credited to the New Haven Palladium , and bearing 
 the signature “ O.” (doubtless Prof. Olmstead), I learn 
 that news has, by a late arrival from Europe, been re¬ 
 ceived at Yale College of the actual discovery of an 
 eighth planet! It was first discovered by M. Galle, of 
 Berlin, on the night of Sept. 23, and was seen at Lon¬ 
 don, Sept. 30. The existence of this body was inferred 
 a few months since by the French mathematician, Le 
 Verrier, from certain disturbances in the motions of 
 Uranus; but the announcement of this inference was 
 not made in this country before some time in May or 
 June last. 
 
 Not to deprive the discoverers of this body of their 
 deserved honors, and with no attempt to excite the 
 marvelousness of your readers, I would say that the exist¬ 
 ence not only of an eighth, but a ninth planet was dis¬ 
 tinctly announced in March last. I will explain : Your 
 readers were informed, some time since, that A. J. 
 Davis, while in an abnormal and exceedingly exalted 
 mental condition, is engaged in the dictation of a book 
 in explanation of the whole structure of the Universe, 
 and developing that knowledge of the universal laws 
 of Nature on which can be based an organization of 
 society on principles of harmony and reciprocation, 
 the same as pervade the celestial spheres. His abnor¬ 
 mal condition (induced by the manipulations of another 
 person), is analogous to physical death', when the 
 spiritual principle is free from its shackles, and appears 
 to have immediate access to every species of knowledge, 
 and the reasoning power is entirely unclouded. 
 
tb r Kionnr and ninth planets. 
 
 27 
 
 The following extracts concerning the eighth and 
 ninth planets are from two lectures given by him, one on 
 the 16th and the other on the 17th of March last. In 
 order that what is said upon the planets may be under 
 stood, it is necessary to precede the extract with a few 
 of his remarks upon the sun :— 
 
 “ The wonderful sun or center to which our solar system be¬ 
 longs, may be understood as being a distant and extreme planet 
 of another system, existing prior to its formation. And in ac¬ 
 cordance with the general plan of suns and worlds in the uni¬ 
 verse, its planets and satellites may be considered as satellites and 
 asteroids belonging to a planet, and the planet as belonging to a 
 sun. 
 
 “ The constitution of the sun is an accumulation and agglomera¬ 
 tion of particles thrown from other spheres; and these became 
 united according to the law of mutual gravity and inherent and 
 mutual attraction. Its igneous composition contains heat, light, 
 and electricity, the successive developments of all primeval mat¬ 
 ter existing in an agglomerated condition, and subjected to the 
 general and universal law governing all matter.” 
 
 After explaining the rotary and orbicular motion of 
 the sun (for the causes of which he accounts), he pro¬ 
 ceeds :— 
 
 “ Therefore, the great internal portion or center of the sun is 
 an immense body of liquid fire, evolving successively heat, light, 
 and electricity, as developed and purified particles of the inte¬ 
 rior composition. The evolved atmosphere may be understood 
 as being a part of the great body,—still an emanation of the in¬ 
 ternal by reason of its own constitution. This atmosphere, or 
 immense zone of nebulous and accumulated particles-extended 
 to the circumference of the orbit that the immense planet occu¬ 
 pies and traverses as a cometary body. This is one more planet 
 than is now known, or has yet been detected by the observations 
 made through the agency of the most powerful symbol of the 
 human eye (the telescope). 
 
23 
 
 memoranda. 
 
 “Eight planets have been recognized and determined as nearlj 
 beyond all doubt. Still the eighth and ninth are not recognized 
 as bodies or plarets belonging to our solar system. But the orbit 
 that the last one occupies was the extreme circumference of the 
 atmospheric emanation from the sun.” 
 
 After proceeding with various remarks upon the 
 laws of emanation, condensation, the origin of rotary 
 and orbicular motions, the progression of primeval 
 planetary matter to the development of the various 
 (so called) elementary substances, &c., he continues :— 
 
 “ The ninth planet, or cometarv body, being composed of par¬ 
 ticles accumulated by the motion of the great sun, observed the 
 same plane by the same specific force, but assumed a station in 
 iccordance with its magnitude; and obeying the laws of recipro- 
 eal gravitation, it occupied its assumed orbit at a distance pro¬ 
 portionate to its rarity, and in accordance with its peculiar con¬ 
 stitution. 
 
 “ The eighth planet was next evolved, observing the same 
 general law of motion and the same principles of formation; 
 and was situated within the outer merely because its constitution 
 was more dense than the first one evolved. Its occupying, there¬ 
 fore, the station and sphere thus described, is only in harmony 
 with the established principles of gravitation, and general and 
 rotary motions. 
 
 “By virtue of the two great motions which the sun has, the 
 luccessive formations of the planetary bodies were produced. 
 As the eighth and ninth planets have not yet been recognized as 
 oelonging to our solar system, there can be no conception of the 
 Driginal magnitude and diameter of the sun, as including its ex¬ 
 tended atmosphere.” 
 
 After further philosophical remarks upon the pecu¬ 
 liar elements, conditions, circumstances, &c., &c., as 
 engaged in the formation of celestial spheres, he says :—• 
 
 “ But let it be deeply impressed, that the peculiar circum¬ 
 stances and conditions under which these elements may be situated 
 
THE EIGHTH AND NINTH FLANETS. 
 
 29 
 
 will produce corresponding effects, according to the cause which 
 occasions the manifestation of such consequences. This observa¬ 
 tion will lead to a proper understanding of the amount of heat 
 and light which the eighth planet receives from the sun. The 
 ultimate discovery of this celestial body, and its revolution and 
 diameter being specified, will contribute greatly to the interesting 
 subject of astronomy, particularly when the aberrations and ro 
 fractions of light are known as they occur between it and the sur 
 around which it revolves. 
 
 “Its density is four-fifths that of water; its diameter is unne¬ 
 cessary to determine. Its rotation and period of revolution can 
 be inferred analogically from the period that Uranus observes in 
 its elliptic and almost inconceivable orbit. The atmosphere of 
 the eighth planet is exceedingly rare, containing little oxygen, 
 but being mostly composed of fluorine and nitrogen. No organic 
 constitution that exists upon the earth could exist there alive for 
 one moment. The human eye would be a useless organ ; for light 
 there is of such a nature as to render its darkness , even at the 
 darkest period, several hundred degrees above the present light 
 emanating from the sun! It has, like Uranus, six satellites. These 
 were evolved and formed by the two motions given this planet; 
 the farthest from the primary being the extent of its original com¬ 
 position, and the nearest satellite being the accumulation of dense 
 
 atoms near the planet.It is wholly unfitted for 
 
 the habitation of any organic constitution; yet life will ultimately 
 cover its now undisturbed surfaces.” 
 
 That the above extracts are genuine, satisfactory 
 demonstration can be given to any one who may re¬ 
 quire it. Their existence in manuscript, as a part of 
 Mr. Davis’s course, has been known by many persons, 
 and whose testimony will not be denied by any who 
 know them. The lectures have, at promiscuous times, 
 been witnessed by I. Kinsman, No. 1 New Street, T. 
 Lea Smith, M. D., 9 Murray Street (now in Bermuda), 
 II. (t. Cox, M. D., Ti White Street, Tlierou Tt. Lapham, 
 
30 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 308 Stanton Street, B. S. Horner, 9 Murray Street, 
 and others. 
 
 In the same manner, Mr. Davis has revealed the 
 formation, constitution, geological developments, in¬ 
 habitants , &c., of all the other planets of our system. 
 Indeed, his book aims to present in a general way, a 
 knowledge of the constitution, laws, principles, and 
 developments of the whole universe. He displays, 
 while in his superior state, a power of analysis and 
 generalization perfectly unparalleled and absolutely 
 overwhelming; though while in the normal state he is 
 almost entirely uneducated , and he is now only about 
 twenty years old. If these are facts (and if not, their 
 falsity should , mn, and will be exposed, )the reflecting 
 mind can not fail to recognize tbe unspeakable import¬ 
 ance of their bearings. The only rational explanation 
 of this psychological phenomenon is that which Mr. 
 Davis himself gives, viz.: that his mind, while in the 
 abnormal state, receives the influx of the science un¬ 
 derstood in the spiritual spheres with which his mind 
 associates. 
 
 Wm. Fishbough. 
 
 io. 
 
 ANNA CORA MOWATT ON THE STAGE. 
 
 New York, November 10, 1846. 
 
 I have been to witness a performance at the Park 
 Theater, in which this siugularly beautiful and spiritual 
 lady played a part. She moves like one in the air, so 
 
LETTER FROM PROFESSOR BUSH. 
 
 ol 
 
 well-governed and graceful are all her bodily expres¬ 
 sions, and so fresh and intelligent are all her concep¬ 
 tions of the part she is to personate. . . While passion¬ 
 ately portraying the profound grief of the character she 
 had assumed, and at the very moment when her cheek 
 grew pale and bosom heaved with the fullness of agony 
 and despair, 1 had the happiness to behold the reality 
 of beautiful influence (spiritual) descend upon her face 
 and figure, imparting an energy and a marvelous bril¬ 
 liancy to her action and personal appearance, the effect 
 of which everybody in the theater seemed to instantly 
 recognize; for the applause immediately was universal 
 and enthusiastic. . . It seems to me that the noble sen¬ 
 timents and profound feelings of human nature attract 
 appreciable influences from the invisible sphere whence 
 emanates “every good and perfect gift.” 
 
 11. 
 
 MAGNETIC MARVELS IN NEW YORK.—LETTER FROM 
 PROFESSOR GEORGE BUSH. 
 
 New York, November 15, 1846. 
 
 Professor Bush’s first letter, confirming the Scribe’s, 
 is published to-day, and reads as follows:— 
 
 To the Editor of the Tribune :— 
 
 The account given in the Tribune of the 10th, of young 
 Davis’s announcement of the existence of an eighth 
 planet in our solar system, and even intimating that its 
 elements had already been calculated months before 
 
32 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 any thing was known of the fact in this country, must 
 be admitted to be, in any mode of explanation, exceed¬ 
 ingly remarkable, especially when it is considered that 
 in his normal state he knows almost nothing of astron¬ 
 omy or of any other science. As to the asserted fact 
 that this announcement by Mr. Davis was made in 
 March last, I can testify that I heard it read at the 
 time ‘ and numerous gentlemen in this city are ready to 
 bear witness that I informed them of the circumstance 
 several months before the intelligence reached ns of Lc 
 Verrieds discovery. 
 
 This fact alone, if there was nothing else extraordi¬ 
 nary in his case, would offer an astounding phenomenon 
 to the world. But this is only one item of the many 
 marvels which distinguish his mesmeric developments, 
 and with which the public will in due time be made 
 acquainted. Circumstances, which it is unnecessary 
 for me to recite, having brought me into a peculiar re¬ 
 lation to his revelations, and questions being almost 
 daily proposed to me by friends respecting them, I 
 am induced to seek the opportunity of stating through 
 your columns that my forthcoming work on the “ Re¬ 
 lation of the Phenomena of Mesmerism to the Doctrines 
 and Disclosures of Swedenborg” will contain a com¬ 
 munication addressed to me by Mr. Davis, written 
 by him in his abnormal or ecstatic state, and made up of 
 a series of quotations, for the most part verbal, from a 
 work of Swedenborg which he had never read ! The 
 evidence of this is decisive from the testimony adduced, 
 and if any thing is lacking on this score, it is supplied 
 from the fact that he is continually giving forth in his 
 Lectures matter scientific, historical, theological, and 
 philosophical, of a character so astonishing as to make 
 
LETTER FROM TROFESSOR BDSII. 
 
 33 
 
 entirely credible the narrative which I have related. 
 On this head I remark as follows:— 
 
 “I can solemnly affirm that I have heard him correctly quote 
 the Hebrew language in his Lectures, and display a knowledge 
 of geology which would have been astonishing in a person of his 
 age, even if he had devoted years to the study. Yet to neither 
 of these departments has he ever devoted a year’s application in 
 his life. I can, moreover, testify that in these lectures he has dis¬ 
 cussed, with the most signal ability, the profoundest questions of 
 Historical and Biblical Archaeology, of Mythology, of the Origin 
 and Affinity of Language, of the Progress of Civilization among 
 the different nations of the globe, besides an immense variety of 
 related topics, on all which, though the style is somewhat faulty, 
 the results announced would do honor to any scholar of the age. 
 even if, in reaching them, he had had the advantage of access to 
 all the libraries in Christendom. Indeed, if he has acquired all 
 the information he gives forth in these lectures, not in the two 
 years since he left the shoemaker’s bench, but in his whole life, 
 with the most assiduous study, no prodigy of intellect of which 
 the world has ever heard would be for a moment to be compared 
 with him. Yet not a single volume on any of these subjects, if a 
 page of a volume, has he ever read, nor, however intimate his 
 friends may be with him, will one of them testify that during the 
 last two years he has ever seen a book of science or history or 
 literature in his hand. His daily life and habits are open to in¬ 
 spection, and if any one is prepared to gainsay in any point the 
 statement now made, I will pledge myself to make a recantation 
 as public as I now make the statement.” 
 
 But this is not all; I say moreover: “In this state I 
 do not perceive that there is any definable limitation to. 
 his power of imparting light on any theme of human 
 inquiry, lie apparently discourses on all subjects with 
 equal facility and correctness. The range of his intui¬ 
 tions appears to be well nigh boundless.” Indeed I am 
 satisfied that, were his mind directed to it, he could 
 2+ 
 
34 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 solve any problem in any science. But he goes simply 
 as he is led by supernatural guidance. On this head I 
 observe:— 
 
 “The manner in which Mr. D.’a remarkable gift is, so to speak, 
 managed and overruled , is no less extraordinary than the gift it¬ 
 self. It is uniformly held in entire subordination to some im¬ 
 portant use. He submits to no experiments prompted by mere 
 curiosity. He makes no revelations, offers no advice, expresses 
 no opinion, which would in any way give one person an undue 
 advantage over another. Though evidently possessing in his ab¬ 
 normal state supernatural knowledge, no worldly inducement has 
 the least effect toward persuading him to exercise it for any pur¬ 
 pose which would not conduce to the good of the whole. The 
 most urgent solicitations have been made to him to aid individuals 
 in the accomplishment of schemes of private interest, but all in 
 vain. He invariably turns a deaf ear to all such propositions. 
 He refuses, because he says it would not he right , and because it 
 would endanger the continuance of his clairvoyant power for 
 higher and holier purposes. 
 
 “ As to the Lectures in which he is engaged, he maintains that 
 their grand scope aims directly at the regeneration of society; 
 that a great moral crisis is impending in this world’s history; 
 and that he is selected as a humble instrument to aid, in a par¬ 
 ticular sphere, in its accomplishment.” 
 
 Perhaps the most astonishing circumstance connected 
 with these developments is the fact, that without ever 
 having read a page of Swedenborg, he has reproduced, 
 in the course of these Lectures, the leading features of 
 his Philosophy of the Universe, and in several instances 
 the coincidence is all but absolutely verbal. Of this I 
 give a striking example in my work. Yet Sweden¬ 
 borg’s philosophical writings, as distinguished from his 
 theological, are of exceedingly rare occurrence in this 
 country, and as they have been but recently translated 
 
LETTER FROM PROFESSOR BUSH. 
 
 35 
 
 into English, and as the exact number of copies im¬ 
 ported is known, as also in whose hands they are, it is 
 easy to reduce the matter to a moral certainty that he 
 has never consulted one of them. Indeed, I should 
 feel entirely safe in offering a reward of one thousand 
 dollars to any person who will exhibit evidence that 
 Mr. Davis has ever read or seen a copy of the “ Prin- 
 cipia,” the ‘‘Animal Kingdom,” or the “Economy of the 
 Animal Kingdom” of Swedenborg, which are the works 
 containing the ideas that he most frequently echoes 
 in his Lectures. He has. moreover, in several instances, 
 quoted his works by their Latin titles, some of which 
 are not known to be in existence in the original on this 
 side the Atlantic, and of which it is utterly incredible 
 that he could previously have known any thing at all. 
 
 Viewed in any light whatever, the case of this young 
 man presents a problem of the most astounding char¬ 
 acter, and one the solution of which will be seen to be 
 indissolubly involved with that of the question of the 
 truth of Swedenborg’s alleged revelations of the spir¬ 
 itual world. This question, I am persuaded, can not be 
 much longer staved off from consideration. It is press¬ 
 ing upon the general mind of Christendom in every 
 direction with an urgency that can not be resisted, and 
 there are a calmly-awaiting few who ask for no assur¬ 
 ance beforehand as to the manner in which the question 
 will be decided. 
 
 Respectfully, yours, &c., 
 
 Geo. Bush. 
 
i>6 
 
 MEMORANDA 
 
 IS. 
 
 VISIT FROM PROFESSOR TAYLOR LEWIS. 
 
 232 Spring Street, New York, November 27, 1846. 
 
 I have just seen the particular acquaintance of Pro¬ 
 fessor Bush. They have been long associated in the 
 study and inculcation of Oriental Languages and Theo¬ 
 logy. They arrived together, and spent some time in 
 our Examination room, talking about “mesmerism,” 
 w magnetism,” “ second-sight,” “ clairvoyance,” and 
 other subjects in psychology and theology that I do not 
 comprehend. It is said that Professor Lewis teaches 
 Greek and Latin in the University of Hew York, and 
 that he is a very learned and distinguished man. He 
 is rather small in stature, and not personally prepossess¬ 
 ing ; his head is large, and countenance expressive of 
 erudition, and patient, laborious thoughtfulness. He 
 impresses like a self-satisfied, but incessantly meditative 
 mind; capable of persistent argumentation, with de¬ 
 ficient appreciation of another’s rights; although this 
 fundamental lack would be, in a good degree, com¬ 
 pensated for and concealed by the fiat of his scholarly 
 attainments.Somehow, I can not feel per¬ 
 
 sonally attracted to the distinguished teachers of those 
 unpronounceable languages. Perhaps the fault is in 
 
REVELATIONS OF MESMERISM. 
 
 37 
 
 myself—in my sense of ignorance on all things in which 
 they are chiefly interested—in my lack of education. 
 Yet they seem to be as impoverished in what to me is 
 Eternal Truth as I am poor in what they deem abso¬ 
 lutely indispensable to a “ classical education.” What 
 is education? And who are the truly educated? I 
 wonder whether Professor Lewis will investigate the 
 phenomena of mesmerism and clairvoyance. . . . 
 
 Some patients have just arrived. The doctor is coming 
 to ask me to be thrown into the state of medical clair¬ 
 voyance. I shall not refuse, for the condition is in¬ 
 creasingly attractive to me. 
 
 O V 
 
 13. 
 
 THOUGHTS ON THE REVELATIONS OF MESMERISM. 
 
 New York, December 25, 1816. 
 
 It seems that the gentleman who, one day last 
 year, stood at the elbow of Rev. Dr. Solomon Sober- 
 thouglit, was a man as well as a clergyman ; for, judg¬ 
 ing from the following, just from his pen, he was not 
 crushed by the assumption of elephantine importance 
 on the part of the immense-bodied ecclesiastic ; but still 
 lives, and what is better, dares to think and investigate 
 for himself :— 
 
 “ Good St. Paul wrote some things beside revelations. So 
 may Swedenborg have done; so may Mr. Davis do. Shall I then 
 swallow down all that comes from either of them ; allowing their 
 claims to supernatural vision to be just, simply because it comes 
 from men sometimes inspired, without asking. Is it true? Is it 
 
38 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 in accordance with known principles of truth, that are immuta¬ 
 ble? Does it correspond to the All-Wise, who changes not? 
 Verily not. While, then, I would exercise due caution against 
 imposition upon the one hand, I would welcome with open heart 
 and mind all that comes, from whatsoever source, in the name of 
 truth and right. I have no fear of innovations or revolutions. 
 I wish we had more of them. There is nothing to fear from the 
 assumptions of any one. If they are true, they will be substan¬ 
 tiated sooner or later; if they are false, truth will not suffer. 
 Thus much in regard to the general subject. 
 
 In relation to the particular revelations of Swedenborg and 
 Davis, I am free to confess, that, to me, they have an important 
 bearing upon the progressive development of man. I have long, 
 in common with many others, speculated upon the probable 
 capability of spirit when separated from the body; whether it 
 w T ould survey at a glance an infinite extent, and know in a 
 moment infinitely more than mortal ever conceived of here. I 
 loved to think the mind, when disrobed of its earthly covering, 
 would, like the bird uncaged, soar away on joyous wing, to revel 
 in those exhaustless stores of wisdom, of which but little is seen 
 in time ; and I shall rejoice whenever any evidence is presented 
 that goes to establish this favorite idea, though I can hardly 
 trust myself to decide upon the validity of testimony in which I 
 am so much interested. Swedenborg assumed to have had re¬ 
 vealed to him the manner of life in the spirit world. He claimed 
 for his revelations consistency with reason, philosophy, and scrip¬ 
 ture. "Why, then, should there be any shrinking from an investi¬ 
 gation of his claims? Mesmerism claims to unfold the hidden 
 workings of creative and preservative principles in matter and 
 spirit. It pushes the vision of the clairvoyant beyond the circle 
 in which man has heretofore moved—marks out a new orbit for 
 his future destiny, and bids him go where God and reason lead 
 the way. Why should godlike beings fear or hesitate to attempt 
 to follow ? If there is a mistake at the bottom of the whole mat¬ 
 ter, somebody will find it out, while no one can be injured by it, 
 if calm and prudent. If there is not, then glorious things ar* 
 spoken of the City of our God. Who will take possession?” 
 
SUBSCRIPTION FOR A NEWSPAPER. 
 
 39 
 
 14. 
 
 SUBSCRIPTION FOR A COUNTRY NEWSPAPER. 
 
 New York, January 3, 1847. 
 
 The following is a copy of a letter I wrote this morn¬ 
 ing to the editor of a little newspaper published in the 
 country. It is the first letter I ever had the courage 
 to write to an “editor.” I am as timid about it as a 
 child, but I shall try to write correctly, and say what I 
 think:— 
 
 Mr. Editor: —With pleasure I have remarked seve¬ 
 ral copies of your casket of valuable information. 
 
 The form , freedom, and freshness of Truth are capti¬ 
 vating to, and congenial with, my reason, and to my su¬ 
 preme love of Nature and her divine soul! But for the 
 purpose of establishing the truth, that I have never read 
 a book, pamphlet , or paper treating on any science, or 
 theology, and in order to keep my mind free from the 
 immensity of the first and the contamination of the 
 latter, I have till this period positively refused to read 
 or subscribe for any book or paper published. Inas¬ 
 much as the “ Lectures” are near completed, in the de¬ 
 velopment of which I have been and still continue to 
 be an instrument employed, I am at liberty to subscribe 
 a year for the present volume, including the already 
 published numbers of your paper. 
 
40 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 I have been three years engaged, as a subject of hu 
 man Magnetism or Spiritual sympathy, and in some of 
 the most novel, useful, and remarkable departments of 
 terrestrial and celestial science. And manifesting a 
 peculiar interior perception of external objects at any 
 distance, or truths of great extent—comprehending, 
 seemingly, the lowest and the highest creation at a 
 glance—and yet naturally I am unacquainted with 
 any of those vast and marvelous subjects so familiarly 
 unfolded. 
 
 I am aware that a change is constantly going on 
 between my natural and spiritual, or inner and outer 
 being—one imperceptibly approaches and Aoavs into the 
 other—an elevation of the faculties and an unfolding of 
 their innate possessions, which caused my inferior to 
 ascend to my superior condition. 
 
 To Magnetism I owe unspeakable blessings; for by it I 
 have been, am now, and shall be, I trust, a useful being 
 to the conflicting world of mankind. If I can be this, my 
 existence will be one of happiness and profit. This will 
 be determined hereafter, when the book is presented to 
 the public, and then the truth will shine forth amid the 
 darkness that now pervades the mental world. I speak 
 concerning the lectures I have given in my spiritual 
 condition, with the same degree of wonder, as would 
 any person uninformed of the circumstances ; and I am 
 seriously devoted to the interior manifestation of beau¬ 
 tiful truths—feeling, as every mind should feel, a su¬ 
 preme love of truth, anxious to have it known and ap¬ 
 plied, the result of which will purify, unite, and elevate 
 the human race. Respectfully yours, 
 
 A. J. Davis, 
 
VISIT FROM A. PHRENOLOGIST. 
 
 41 
 
 15. 
 
 VISIT FROM A PHRENOLOGIST. 
 
 New York, January 16, 1847. 
 
 I begin to wonder whether the science (or what maj 
 be one day called a science) of magnetism, and its 
 resultant clairvoyance, will ever be delivered of false 
 and shameless pretenders. To-day, a man called, mak¬ 
 ing the largest professions to mesmeric skill, &c. ; 
 enough to disgust any common mind with the whole 
 subject. And only yesterday a phrenologist visited us 
 for the purpose of examining my head. He showed 
 his “ small bills ” as well as his self conceit, and pointed 
 out a sentence which he understood to be a sort of 
 editorial recommendation, to this effect: “ It is not 
 long since, in one of his lectures in the city of New 
 Orleans, and also, I believe, elsewhere, a peripatetic 
 head-reader demonstrated his ability to discover a 
 man’s religious tenets by the developments of his 
 bead ; he could thus distinguish an Episcopalian from a 
 Catholic, a Baptist from a Methodist, and a Presbyterian 
 from the whole. We do not often speak respectfully 
 of traveling phrenologists,” &c. But, notwithstand¬ 
 ing this “favorable notice” printed on his programme, 
 I did not put my head under his hands. In fact, by 
 experience, through great and painful sensitiveness to per 
 
42 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 sonal conditions and conflicting magnetisms. I am con¬ 
 strained to avoid, as far a? possible, without seeming to 
 be absolutely rude, all direct contact with the different 
 individuals I meet in society. 
 
 Tliere are phrenologists, however, such as Prof. O. 
 S. Fowler, and others of his school, in Xassau Street, 
 for whose personal qualities and reformatory efforts I 
 entertain the profoundest respect. Possibly, one of 
 these days, I may become better acquainted with the 
 science they teach. The other day, when I met Air. 
 O. S. Fowler. I seemed to see an architect, whose plans 
 are large, and various, and desirable, with an unusual 
 number of windows and doors in his proposed super¬ 
 structure. but either lacking the suitable building ma- 
 terial. or else not properly and congenially assisted by 
 efficient carpenters and masons. 
 
 16 . 
 
 SEEING- WITHOUT THE XA.TUBAL EYES. 
 
 Xew Yoke, January 18, 1847. 
 
 In order to show that the spiritual eye can read 
 manuscript, without any outward contact, and inde¬ 
 pendently of the bodily organs, I introduce the follow¬ 
 ing voluntary attestation, from an interesting work, 
 entitled, “ Mesmer and Swedenborg,” p. 179, by Prof 
 George Bush:— 
 
 ‘•And what is remarkable, although I had my manuscripts 
 with me, from which I wished to propose certain queries relative 
 to the correctness of my interpretation, I found I had no need to 
 
COMPLETION OF THE LECTURES. 
 
 43 
 
 refer to it, as lie was evidently, from his replies, cognizant of its 
 entire scope from beginning to end. though all the time closely 
 bandaged, and unable to read a word by the outward eye. This 
 will appear incredible, but it is strictly true. I had no occasion 
 to refer to a single sentence in my papers; for it was evident 
 that he was in possession of the whole, though he had not seen a 
 line of what I had written, nor had previously known of the fact 
 of my writing at all.” 
 
 IT. 
 
 COMPLETION OF THE CLAIRVOYANT LECTURES. 
 
 252 Spring Street, New York, January 25, 1S47. 
 
 They say that my lectures are completed! Well — 
 I do not feel any different. With the Doctor and the 
 Scribe I share feelings of gratitude to the Immortal 
 Power for blessings vouchsafed, and return thanks for 
 the truths that have been imparted during the past few 
 months. The world’s millions know almost nothing of 
 these remarkable experiences. A lecture would last 
 forty minutes or longer, and the book, when published, 
 will contain one hundred and fifty-seven of them. The 
 first was delivered November 28, 1845, and the last, 
 January 25, 1847. When delivering these lectures, 
 I would receive impressions from the invisible world ; 
 and then, with my natural organs of speech, I would 
 slowly, distinctly, and audibly deliver them to the 
 Scribe, in order that they should be accurately recorded. 
 I would then return to the invisible world for another 
 impression. 
 
 If I were to write of the clairvoyant in the third 
 person, I should say: In the personal appearance of 
 
42 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 eonal conditions and conflicting magnetisms, I am con¬ 
 strained to avoid, as far as possible, without seeming to 
 be absolutely rude, all direct contact with the different 
 individuals I meet in society. 
 
 There are phrenologists, however, such as Prof. O. 
 S. Fowler, and others of his school, in Nassau Street, 
 for whose personal qualities and reformatory efforts I 
 entertain the profoundest respect. Possibly, one of 
 these days, I may become better acquainted with the 
 science they teach. The other day, when I met Mr. 
 O. S. Fowler, I seemed to see an architect, whose plane 
 are large, and various, and desirable, with an unusual 
 number of windows and doors in his proposed super¬ 
 structure, but either lacking the suitable building ma¬ 
 terial, or else not properly and congenially assisted by 
 efficient carpenters and masons. 
 
 16 . 
 
 SEEING- WITHOUT THE NATURAL EYES. 
 
 New York, January 18, 1847. 
 
 In order to show that the spiritual eye can read 
 manuscript, without any outward contact, and inde¬ 
 pendently of the bodily organs, I introduce the follow¬ 
 ing voluntary attestation, from an interesting work, 
 entitled, “ Mesmer and Swedenborg,” p. 179, by Prof 
 George Bush:— 
 
 “And what is remarkable, although I had my manuscripts 
 with me, from which I wished to propose certain queries relative 
 to the correctness of my interpretation, I found I had no need to 
 
COMPLETION OF THE LECT0RES. 
 
 43 
 
 refer to it, as lie was evidently, from his replies, cognizant of its 
 entire scope from beginning to end, though all the time closely 
 bandaged, and unable to read a word by the outward eye. This 
 will appear incredible, but it is strictly true. I had no occasion 
 to refer to a single sentence in my papers; for it was evident 
 that he was in possession of the whole, though he had not seen a 
 line of what I had written, nor had previously known of the fact 
 of my writing at all.” 
 
 IT. 
 
 COMPLETION OP THE CLAIRVOYANT LECTURES. 
 
 252 Spring Street, New York, January 25, 1847. 
 
 They say that my lectures are completed! Well— 
 I do not feel any different. With the Doctor and the 
 Scribe I share feelings of gratitude to the Immortal 
 Power for blessings vouchsafed, and return thanks for 
 the truths that have been imparted during the past few 
 months. The world’s millions know almost nothing of 
 these remarkable experiences. A lecture would last 
 forty minutes or longer, and the book, when published, 
 will contain one hundred and fifty-seven of them. The 
 first was delivered November 28, 1845, and the last, 
 January 25, 1847. When delivering these lectures, 
 I would receive impressions from the invisible world ; 
 and then, with my natural organs of speech, I would 
 slowly, distinctly, and audibly deliver them to the 
 Scribe, in order that they should be accurately recorded. 
 I would then return to the invisible world for another 
 impression. 
 
 If I were to write of the clairvoyant in the third 
 person, I should say: In the personal appearance of 
 
46 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 kind would not be justly adequate. There have been, 
 and are, however, a few others, who have attained a 
 similar perfeetion. The world will shortly be apprised 
 of a triumph of clairvoyance through the celebrated 
 Mr. Davis, which millions will be totally nnprepared 
 for. During the past year, this uneducated, unsophis¬ 
 ticated, and amiable young man, has been delivering 
 verbally, day by day, a comprehensive, well-planned, and 
 extraordinary book—relating to all the vast questions 
 of the age, to the physical sciences, to Nature, in all 
 her infinite ramifications; to man, in his innumerable 
 modes of existence; to God, in the unfathomable 
 abysses of his love, power, and wisdom. No human 
 author, in any department of literature or science, has 
 ever electrified mankind to the degree that the elo¬ 
 quent, yet simple reasonings, the lofty and sublime dis¬ 
 closures will, that constitute this great compend of 
 universal philosophy. Perhaps over four thousand 
 different persons who have witnessed him in his medi¬ 
 cal examinations or in his scientific discourses, live to 
 testify to the astonishing exaltation of mind possessed 
 by Mr. Davis in his abnormal state. The two new 
 planets of our system, recently conjectured, were de¬ 
 scribed in Davis’s manuscripts fourteen months ago. 
 I have seen him discoursing in a most angelic man¬ 
 ner for more than four hours in succession. The above, 
 his first and least work, is, I believe, nearly ready to be 
 issued. 
 
WAKING CLAIRVOYANCE. 
 
 47 
 
 10. 
 
 THE MAGNETIC SEPARATION. 
 
 New York, April 10, 1847. 
 
 I have an indescribable feeling, amounting almost id 
 melancholy, that this day ends my magnetic relations to 
 the kind-hearted operator. A voice from the sacred 
 mountain sounds the prophecy in my spirit’s ear. What 
 is before me as a person, or what I am hereafter to 
 accomplish for the world, I have not the least notion. 
 But my reliance upon the supremacy and triumph of 
 truth is profound and immovable. Besides, I have a 
 sovereign staff in my soul, invisible to my operator, and 
 equally unknown to all my personal friends, with which 
 I alone may journey into the hidden future. 
 
 20 . 
 
 SEEING CLAIRVOYANTLY WHILE IN A STATE OP BODILY 
 WAKEFULNESS. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, May 16 , 1847 . 
 
 To-day I begin a new psychological and personal 
 career! As I supposed, a magnetizer will be no longer 
 a necessity. But, Oh, how careful must be my employ* 
 
MEMORANDA. 
 
 48 
 
 ment of this faculty ! I now begin to understand what 
 Swedenborg meant when he wrote:— 
 
 “ There are two kinds of visions, differing from those which 
 are ordinarily experienced, and which I was let into, only that I 
 might know the nature of them, and what is meant by its being 
 said in the Word that they were taken out of the body, and that 
 they were carried by the spirit into another place. As to the 
 first, viz., the being taken out of the body, the case is this: Man 
 is reduced into a certain state, which is mediate between sleeping 
 and waking; when he is in this state he can not know but 
 that he is wholly awake, all his senses being as much awake 
 as in the most perfect state of bodily wakefulness, not only 
 those oi sight and hearing, but, what is surprising, that of 
 touch, also, which is then more exquisite than it is possible for 
 it to be in bodily wakefulness. In this state, also, spirits and 
 angels are seen to the life, and are also heard, and, what is won¬ 
 derful, are touched, scarce any thing of the body then interven¬ 
 ing. This is the state described as being ‘taken out of the body,’ 
 and in which they know not whether they are in the body or out 
 of the body. I have only been let into this state three or four 
 times, just in order that I might know the nature of it, and that 
 spirits and angels enjoy every sense, even touch, in a more per¬ 
 fect and exquisite degree than that of the body. As to the other 
 kind, viz., the being carried by the spirit to another place, the 
 nature of this, also, was shown me, by lively experience, but 
 only twice or three times. I will merely relate the experience. 
 Walking through the streets of the city, and through the country, 
 and being at the same time in discourse with spirits, I was not 
 aware but that I was equally awake and seeing, as at other times, 
 consequently walking without mistaking my way. In the mean 
 time I was in vision, seeing groves, rivers, palaces, houses, men, 
 and other objects; but after walking thus for some hours, on 
 a sudden I was in bodily vision, and observed that I was in another 
 place. Being greatly amazed at this, I perceived that I had been in 
 such a state as they were of whom it is said that they were car¬ 
 ried by the spirit to another place. It is so said, because, luring 
 
BEADING BOOKS AT A DISTANCE. 
 
 49 
 
 the continuance of this state, there is no reflection on the length 
 of the way, were it even many miles; nor on the lapse of time, 
 were it many hours or days ; nor is there any sense of fatigue; 
 the person is also led through ways which he, himself, is igno¬ 
 rant of, until he comes to the place intended. This was done 
 that I might know, also, that man may be led by the Lord with¬ 
 out his knowing whence or whither.” 
 
 31. 
 
 BEADING THE CONTENTS OF BOOKS AT A DISTANCE. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, August 10, 1847. 
 
 Professor Bush lias been most cruelly misrepresented 
 and constantly assailed for the indorsements and testi¬ 
 monies he published in the Tribune. In self-defense 
 he has once more appeared in that paper as follows:— 
 
 “I confess myself to have taken a deep interest in this develop¬ 
 ment from the outset, principally from its obvious relations with 
 the psychological disclosures of Swedenborg, apart from which I 
 am confident it can never be explained, but in connection with 
 which the solution is easy and obvious. The modus of this it is 
 not my purpose at present to dwell upon; whoever forms an ac¬ 
 quaintance with Swedenborg, will soon find himself on the track 
 of solving not only this, but all other psychological problems. 
 My object is to advert to a particular passage in the Lectures, and 
 examine its bearings upon the question of the source from which 
 the information given by the so-called ‘Clairvoyant’ was derived. 
 On p. 587 he has entered into a detailed and very accurate analy¬ 
 sis of one of Swedenborg’s scientific works, entitled ‘ The 
 Economy of the Animal Kingdom,’ in 2 vols. 8vo. He gives a 
 minute account of the scope of each volume; and he could not 
 well have been more correct had the volumes been open before 
 him for the express purpose of exhibiting a summary view of 
 their contents. The Lecture containing this passage I heard read 
 3 
 
50 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 shortly after its delivery. Tt struck me as very remarkable, as 
 the work in question had but recently arrived in this country; 
 and I was confident, from various reasons, that neither Mr. Dav ; s 
 nor his associates could have seen it. I put several interroga¬ 
 tories on this head, and received the most positive assurance that 
 they had not only never seen it, but had never even heard of it. 
 And, as a proof of this, on the part of the scribe, he remarked 
 that he had noted the word ‘ Economy’ as probably a mistake, 
 as he had heard of a work of Swedenborg’s, entitled simply 
 ‘The Animal Kingdom,’ which was translated and published in 
 England a year or two before, though he had never seen it. Yet 
 this he supposed to be meant. 
 
 “ My acquaintance with those gentlemen was sufficient to 
 satisfy me that their disclaimer on this score was entitled to im¬ 
 plicit belief; but, as I was aware that this would not be enough 
 to satisfy others, I at once determined to institute an inquiry, the 
 result of which should put the matter beyond all cavil. I saw 
 clearly that if it could be shown that this young man had given a 
 correct account of a work which neither he nor his associates 
 had ever seen or heard of, it must be a strong point gained to¬ 
 ward confirming the truth of his general claim to preteinatural 
 insight, for the establishment of which I was indeed anxious, but 
 yet as subordinate to a still higher interest. 
 
 “I accordingly wrote to Mr. 0. Clapp, bookseller in Boston, 
 whom I knew to be the only person in this country who imported 
 Swedenborg’s scientific works from England. They are there 
 published, not by individual enterprise, but by an association, 
 from whom all the copies ordered from this country are con¬ 
 signed exclusively to Mr. C. I requested him to give me from 
 his books, as far as possible, a detailed account of the disposal 
 of every copy he had sold, as my object was to ascertain if any 
 one of them could be traced to a point where it would be likely 
 to fall into the hands of Mr. Davis or his companions. Mr. C. 
 immediately replied, informing me of the number of copies he 
 had imported, which was not large, as the book is costly, and tire 
 demand limited mostly to Swedenborg’s adherents, and also of 
 the direction which nearly every one had taken. Of these there 
 
READING BOOKS AT A DISTANCE. 
 
 51 
 
 were, in all, nine copies sent to this city to Mr. John Alien, of 
 which all but three or four were disposed of to purchasers 
 abroad. Of those that remained in the city, every one can 
 be traced to individuals who will at once testify that they have 
 never been purchased, borrowed nor consulted, by Mr. Davis or 
 his friends. I have made diligent inquiry on this head, and am 
 perfectly satisfied that it is morally impossible that either of these 
 gentlemen should have had access to any one of the copies 
 owned in New York. 
 
 “Still, I am perfectly aware that this statement will not, of 
 itself, avail to overcome the rooted incredulity that opposes itself 
 to such a demand upon faith. I now propose, therefore, to put 
 this matter to a much more summary test, by applying a mag¬ 
 net of the highest potency in drawing out truth, as well as other 
 things, from all weaker affinities. I am authorized to make a 
 bona fide offer of $500 to any person who will produce a single 
 iota of evidence, properly substantiated, that the work in ques¬ 
 tion was ever seen, heard of, consulted, or in any way employed, 
 by either of the gentlemen above mentioned, up to the time of 
 the delivery of said lecture by A. J. Davis. I simply demand 
 that such evidence shall be clearly and unequivocally made out; 
 and I pledge myself, upon the truth of an honest man, that the 
 above sum shall be punctually paid over, in the presence of wit¬ 
 nesses, to the person who, on the condition specified, shall come 
 forward and claim it. 
 
 “I can conceive nothing more fair or decisive than this propo¬ 
 sition. If this book has been used for the purpose, it must have 
 been obtained of somebody. It is not easily conceivable that such 
 an one, if knowing to the fact, should have any motive for with¬ 
 holding it sufficient to counterbalance the inducement held out in 
 the present offer to divulge it. A refusal to impart the informa¬ 
 tion sought, by any one who possesses it, can scarcely be antici¬ 
 pated, except upon the ground of complicity in a grand scheme 
 of imposture, which has been entered into by a knot of unprin¬ 
 cipled men, with a view to palm upon the public a work charged 
 as being of a ‘directly undisguised infidel character.’ But who 
 are these men? Who can be named as possessing a copy of 
 
52 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 Swedenborg’s work that would be likely to lend either it or him¬ 
 self to such a contemptible piece of chicanery? Could such a 
 man have any motive for this that would not be apt to yield to 
 the certainty of pocketing the proffered reward? Has he more 
 than five hundred dollars’ worth of interest in bolstering up a 
 pitiable delusion, which will be sure to be detected in the end, 
 and cover with infamy the heads of all concerned? For myself, 
 I am satisfied that there is not a copy of the ‘ Economy of the 
 Animal Kingdom’ in the city but is in the hands of those who 
 have the profoundest respect for Swedenborg as a philosopher 
 and a moralist; and no such man could be, knowingly, an ac¬ 
 complice in a scheme of pretended ‘ revelation, 1 the scope of a 
 large portion of which is directly contrary to Swedenborg’s 
 teachings. What supposition more absurd? If it be said that 
 such an one might have come into the junto without knowing 
 precisely what would be the issue, or what use would be made 
 of his Swedenborgian contribution, the fact is now palpable ; he 
 is undeceived, and what should prevent him from exposing the 
 outrageous fraud, especially when he can spread the plaster of a 
 $500 note over the sore of his chagrin ? 
 
 The truth is, this whole supposition is incredible to the last 
 degree. There is not a person in the community, who owns a 
 copy of Swedenborg’s ‘ Economy, 1 that could think for a mo¬ 
 ment of prostituting the book or himself to such a despicable 
 fabrication ; and I repeat, that the book is not to be found ex¬ 
 cept with those who entertain sentiments in regard to this great 
 and good man that would utterly preclude connivance at any 
 clandestine procedure of the kind supposed. Should the offer 
 now made—and which is made in the most positive good faith— 
 fail to elicit any response contradictory to the assumption of the 
 book, I would submit to every candid mind whether there does 
 not arise from this source a powerful confirmation of its general 
 claims. I do not say that such, considered in itself, is absolutely 
 decisive. But it must surely be granted that it affords a strong 
 proof of a collateral kind. The numerical count of probabilities 
 is vastly on the side of the theory that the work in question has 
 not been seen, if a generous premium fails of bringing to light 
 
PROF. LEWIS ATTACKS PROF. BUSH. 53 
 
 the least evidence to the contrary; and yet, if the assumption 
 stands good, what an astounding power is here developed! 
 What can not a mind bring forth which is thus enabled to de¬ 
 clare the contents of books never read or seen ! 
 
 “On the whole, then, I venture the assertion that but one 
 conclusion can finally be rested in in regard to the circumstance 
 I am now considering. Young Davis has correctly analyzed 
 and characterized a work which he had never read nor heard of. 
 As this is directly claimed to be the fact, so it is, all things 
 weighed, the solution which is attended with the fewest dif¬ 
 ficulties. No other than presumptive evidence can be adduced 
 against it, nor will any other be attempted.” 
 
 22 . 
 
 PROFESSOR LEWIS ATTACKS PROFESSOR BUSH, AND DE¬ 
 NOUNCES DAVIS’S REVELATIONS. 
 
 New York, August 15, 1847. 
 
 The battle has begun ! I have just heard read the 
 following very extraordinary letter by Professor Lewis, 
 teacher of Greek and Latin in the University of New 
 York:— 
 
 To the Editor of the New York Tribune :— 
 
 At the first announcement of the pretended revela¬ 
 tions of Davis, I was requested by some friends, who 
 knew that I had thoroughly examined the book and 
 was familiar with the circumstances attending its pro¬ 
 duction, to make some exposition of its true nature and 
 merits. The fact, too, that it had been deemed worthy 
 of six closely printed columns of commendation in the 
 New York Tribune would also seem to have warranted 
 
54 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 such a course. It was, however, judged impossible that 
 the boasted intelligence of the nineteenth century should 
 be deceived by a work carrying on the very face of it 
 such evidence of gross imposture. It was deemed in¬ 
 credible that a book abounding, not simply in philo¬ 
 sophic skepticism, but in the lowest and most ribald in¬ 
 fidelity of the school of Tom Paine—an authority whence 
 a large part of it is evidently derived—could obtain any 
 kind of countenance from a Christian community, or 
 from any persons professing the lowest known form of 
 belief in the inspiration of the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 For these reasons it was not deemed worthy of any 
 extended notice, until the appearance of Professor 
 Bush’s indorsement in Friday’s Tribune. He there 
 speaks of it as a “ work justly attracting a large share 
 of public attention he recommends it to the commu¬ 
 nity as a remarkable production, worthy of the most 
 unprejudiced and candid examination; he exultingly 
 speaks, in the style of a newspaper puff, of its remarka¬ 
 ble sale of nine hundred copies in one week ; regards this 
 as evidence of a great increase of faith in that supernat¬ 
 ural revelation which denies as impossible the miracles 
 and resurrection of Christ; and, finally, makes a most 
 remarkable manifestation of the high motives which 
 should distinguish the scholar and the philosopher—to 
 say nothing of the Christian teacher—in suffering him¬ 
 self to be the channel through which a reward of five 
 hundred dollars is offered to any man who will swear 
 that he has ever seen Davis reading a certain book of 
 Swedenborg. 
 
 This gentleman is a Professor of Hebrew and Bibli 
 cal literature, and a scholar and a writer of wide-spread 
 
PROF. LEWIS ATTACKS PROF. BUSH. 
 
 55 
 
 reputation. This alone would render proper a notice 
 of his communication in the Tribune , even if there 
 existed no other reason. He is also a professed teacher 
 of the Gospel of Jesus Christ; and this fact, too, of itself, 
 would justify any severity of language which we have 
 used or may use in relation to his strange course in this 
 matter. Whatever delusions he may have been under 
 in the commencement of this business, he now well knows 
 that this book is thoroughly and unblushingly Infidel, 
 in any, even the lowest, sense in which the advocates of 
 the loosest form of Christianity would take the term. 
 It attempts to disprove the very possibility of any super¬ 
 natural revelation. It affirms that evil or sin can not 
 possibly have any existence. It not only denies the 
 supernatural of the Old Testament—some of the Pro¬ 
 fessor’s school might think this only a legitimate result 
 of their doctrine of Progress—but pronounces false, and 
 even affects to scoff at, all the miracles of the Hew. It 
 denies the resurrection of Christ. It asserts that he was 
 simply a moral reformer, but of an inferior kind, as be¬ 
 ing one who understood only effects, without that knowl¬ 
 edge of causes and of the interior of things, which is now 
 made manifest in these revelations of Davis. It speaks 
 of his illegitimacy, and describes him in terms of infe¬ 
 riority to Fourier. It asserts that Prophecy and Mira¬ 
 cles are, in the very nature of things, impossibilities; 
 this, to be sure, by a most absurd and ridiculous attempt 
 at reasoning, as we shall show; but the assertion is all 
 with which we are at present concerned. It makes out 
 Christ and his commissioned Apostles to be the weakest 
 of all deluded enthusiasts, or the most wicked of impos¬ 
 tors. It denies all human accountability to any higher 
 
56 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 power than Nature. It affects sometimes to be witty, 
 and indulges in ribald scoffing at the claims of the Scrip¬ 
 tures, and the sacred feelings which are associated with 
 them in the believing soul. Every one of these posi¬ 
 tions we will prove most abundantly if Professor Bush 
 dares to deny them. He knows, too, that the ribald 
 objections to the Bible, and especially to the Gospels, 
 which appear in the latter parts of this book, are iden¬ 
 tical, to a great degree, with the stale and oft-repeated 
 blasphemies of Paine. With all this, he still—a pro¬ 
 fessed teacher of Christ’s Gospel—not only patronizes 
 and encourages this avowedly Infidel production, but 
 has done more than all other agents in the imposture 
 combined, to give it currency with the public. 
 
 Prof. Bush may reiterate the declaration that he does 
 not indorse the absolute truth of these pretended reve¬ 
 lations ; that he only views them as a remarkable psy¬ 
 chological phenomena: he may even intimate, as he 
 sometimes seems to do, that the contents are, to some 
 extent, intrinsically evil and false, or the suggestions ot 
 evil spiritual agents—(certainly he must consistently 
 deem them such, if they are blasphemies against that 
 Being whom even he must in some sense regard as his 
 Redeemer, and whom he professes to preach as the 
 light of the world)—but what right, we ask, has he 
 to aid the circulation of a work of the devil, whether 
 that work be in the extraordinary way of a direct com¬ 
 munication with the spiritual world, as claimed by 
 Fishbough and Davis, or through those ordinary chan¬ 
 nels of Satanic suggestion, which, according to the 
 universal faith of the Church, the devil has ever em¬ 
 ployed in instigating men to acts of wickedness and 
 
PROF. LEWIS ATTACKS PROF. BUSH. 
 
 57 
 
 imposture ? Suppose it is one of Satan’s lying won¬ 
 ders ; suppose, as the Professor has himself suggested, 
 it does illustrate the remarkable psychological phenome¬ 
 non, that the spirit of Tom Paine is yet engaged in 
 injecting his infidel ribaldry into this world, whenever 
 he can find a clairvoyant pipe for that purpose;—yet 
 still, what right, even on the score of their marvelous¬ 
 ness, has a Christian teacher to be puffing the devil’s 
 books, and so bravely offering $500 to any one who will 
 prove that some man, and not the devil, wrote them? 
 
 But this argument will not avail. Whatever Prof. 
 B. may say of the “sheer sophistry” of confounding 
 some of the errors of the volume with the argument for 
 its supernatural origin, yet still we are driven, by the 
 very laws of the human mind, to make such connection. 
 Nature teaches, and Christ and his apostles by their 
 own course have sanctioned, the indelible lesson, that 
 the fact of the “ astoundingly supernatural ” accom¬ 
 panying a revelation professing to be from the other 
 world, is strong evidence of the intrinsic truth of the 
 revelation itself. Whenever there has been the oppo¬ 
 site manifestation, as in the case of the Egyptian Ma¬ 
 gicians (if there was in this instance a real intercourse 
 with the agencies of the unseen world), there has ever 
 been the higher supernatural triumphing over and pre¬ 
 venting that delusion into which, without such aid, 
 the human mind, by its own laws, would naturally run. 
 
 Prof. Bush has not yet made sufficient progress, con¬ 
 sistently to believe all that Davis says about the impos¬ 
 tures and delusions in Christ’s pretended miracles; but 
 he accepts of almost all the rest. This must be so, or 
 there is no meaning at all in a great deal of the reason 
 
5S 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 ing he has advanced on this subject. lie believes that 
 in the case of Davis there has really been most stu¬ 
 pendously supernatural manifestation, a knowledge 
 and use of languages which never came through the 
 senses, or memory, or the reflective powers, or any 
 innate ideas; nor were received as suggestions from 
 other minds; and yet possessed and put forth as the 
 soul’s own consciously recognized furniture. Has the 
 Professor ever seriously reflected on the astonishingly 
 supernatural nature of this phenomenon, fully equal to, 
 if not transcending, the miraculous gift of tongues im¬ 
 parted as evidence of the truth of the apostolical mes¬ 
 sage ?....... 
 
 The subject is an awfully serious one; and yet we 
 can not well conceive of any thing, in the nature of an 
 argument, mere ridiculous than the one Prof. B. is so 
 fond of employing in relation to this matter. The 
 work, it is well known to him, denies directly the au¬ 
 thority of the Scriptures, both Old and Hew ; it blas¬ 
 phemes Christ on any supposition of His having been 
 specially sent by God ; it pronounces His miracles im¬ 
 postures and His resurrection a fable; in a word, it is 
 an intrinsically had and Infidel book ; and yet, says the 
 Professor: “ It justly attracts public attention, and is 
 to he recommended as a most valuable production, be¬ 
 cause it furnishes evidence'of the existence of a devil 
 and evil spirits.” What is more wonderful and valua¬ 
 ble still, it thereby confirms the Swedenborgian hypoth¬ 
 esis in relation to these articles; as though such had 
 not been the faith of the Christian Church in all ages, 
 or as though we could not confidently rest on what is 
 so clearly revealed in the Old and Hew Testaments, 
 
PROF. LEWIS ATTACKS PROF. BUSH. 
 
 59 
 
 without the confirmation of Swedenborg! What 
 crowns the absurdity is the fact, that nothing is more 
 vehemently affirmed by Davis, nor more strongly held 
 by the other parties who are united with Prof. B. in 
 the promotion of the circulation of this volume, than 
 the non-existence of devils and evil spirits, and the 
 utter absurdity and even impossibility of any such 
 notions having an objective reality. 
 
 There can be only three possible suppositions in this 
 business: 1st. The book is true, and all the wonders in 
 relation to it, extrinsically and intrinsically ; or, 2d. 
 Davis is obsessed by evil spirits, who make him the pipe 
 through which they inject into this world their lies and 
 blasphemies; or, 3d. It is, from beginning to end, a 
 shameless and wicked imposture, practiced by evil 
 spirits in this world, and for most wicked ends. The 
 first position we will leave to the marvelous faith of the 
 Infidel. If the second is correct, then every Christian 
 man who has renounced the devil and his works, and 
 who may happen to have the volume in his possession 
 —having at the same time no better method of keeping 
 it from doing harm to his children or others — should 
 immediately throw it into the fire. If the last hypoth¬ 
 esis is the true one, then all concerned in this nefa¬ 
 rious juggle, and attempt to obtain money by false and 
 impious pretenses, should be forthwith introduced to 
 the acquaintance of the Grand Jury and District At¬ 
 torney. 
 
 .The writer flourishes away with his 
 
 “ therefores ,” and his “ it follows and “ it is perfectly 
 clear fi &c., when nothing follows, and nothing is clear, 
 and nothing is proved but his own ignorance and im- 
 
no 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 pudence. He seems to be utterly unaware that in ad 
 this he is cheating himself with his own terms, ever 
 assuming the very thing to be proved, and thus going 
 round and round in an ever-revolving treadmill, in 
 which the premises may continually become the con¬ 
 clusion and the conclusion the premises, and from which 
 it seems impossible for him ever to get out. The very 
 question is—Is there a power above Nature? He says 
 no; because if so, it would be supernatural, and that 
 which is supernatural is nothing; therefore, &c., &c. 
 Had he had sense enough to understand his own soph¬ 
 istry, he might have made it look better by going a 
 little farther back with his assumed position, and de¬ 
 claring that Nature is an end in itself , with no moral 
 world above it. Then there would have been some 
 shadow of ground for the argument that its processes 
 are unchangeable, because God would have no reason 
 more ultimate for ever interfering with them. As it 
 now stands, the only real connection of thought (if it 
 can at all be called thought) to be traced in this cloud 
 of words, may be simply stated thus : “ It is the very 
 nature of Nature to be natural. Whatever is natural, 
 must take place, because every effect, or thing caused, 
 comes from something causing, and, therefore, must 
 occur, because it is caused by a natural instigation. 
 Hut alleged miracles are supernatural; whatever is 
 supernatural is unnatural; and whatever is unnatural 
 is contrary to the laws of Nature. It is, therefore, 
 utterly unreasonable lhat a miracle should take place, 
 and every one who is acquainted with these laws, must 
 at once conceive, that such an occurrence is entirely 
 opposed to these laws, and can not therefore possibly 
 
PROF. LEWIS ATTACKS PROF. BUSH. 
 
 61 
 
 occur (q. e. d.).” Is it not most clearand conclusive, 
 and quite Swedenborgian beside? If he includes, in 
 his word nature, God and the moral world, by such an 
 abuse of the word he might have had the appearance 
 of some more coherency of reasoning, but then his very 
 clear conclusion would have been, that that which 
 did not come from some cause, natural, moral, or 
 divine, never could have been caused nor existed. In 
 this case, however, it would not have been proved that 
 what are called Christ’s miracles never could have 
 taken place, but only that they are excluded from his 
 own absurd and arbitrary employment of the terms 
 natural and supernatural. What makes this the very 
 quintessence of all foolishness, is the fact, that while 
 this very “ remarkable” person is denying the miracles 
 of Christ, on the ground of their being natural impos¬ 
 sibilities which no rational mind can believe, or even 
 conceive, he is asking, on his own assertion, our 
 credence in states of being, and manifestations of knowl¬ 
 edge far more wonderful than any of the exhibitions 
 of Jesus in healing the sick and casting out devils, or 
 even turning water into wine. He utterly denies the 
 very possibility of prophecy or predictions for a few 
 centuries; yet claims to know by intuition facts which 
 took place fifty thousand years ago, and actually to 
 have predicted discoveries in astronomy, by no natural 
 observations, but by interior light! Another marvel, 
 greater than all, is, that men should be found in this 
 nineteenth century of progress, and a Professor of 
 Hebrew ^mong them, who can believe all this, while 
 they find it so hard to rest on the martyr testimony of 
 Jesus and his apostles, together with that immense mass 
 
62 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 of corroborating evidence which has been accruing in 
 the Church for ages ! t. l. 
 
 33. 
 
 A POPULAR NEW YORK EDITOR REPLIES TO PROFESSOR 
 
 LEWIS. 
 
 New York, August 20, 1847. 
 
 This morning a friend handed me the New York 
 Sunday Dispatch, containing the following rational 
 remarks:— 
 
 Professor Lewis, a recognized champion of the Church, 
 has taken up the cudgels against the meek and lowly 
 A. J. Davis, and says, in almost so many words, that 
 the shoemaker’s apprentice is a cheat; that he knows 
 nothing about Latin, Greek, and Hebrew ; and that the 
 repi’oduction of Swedenborg’s philosophy through him, 
 is the result of a conspiracy which, Professor Lewis in¬ 
 timates, Professor Bush is the master spirit of! 
 
 The champion of the Church denies, if we under¬ 
 stand him right, the magnetic influence and clairvoyant 
 power, notwithstanding the mass of evidence adduced 
 to sustain both. Here he has committed a blunder, for 
 which he deserves to lose his office and perquisites. 
 
 Christianity has , within a hundred years , suffered 
 more from the stupidity of its defenders, than from the 
 assaults of its opponents. The churchmen, fearful of 
 losing their influence and their salaries^ have looked 
 with jealous eyes upon the progress of scientific knowl¬ 
 edge. Every new discovery has awakened their appre¬ 
 hension lest it should overthrow one of the dogmas 
 
A NEW YORK EDITOR REPLIES. b3 
 
 of their faith, and weaken the others in the public be¬ 
 lief. .. . . . . . : 
 
 Never were the wrongs of the laboring classes—the 
 oppressions and frauds practiced upon them—placed in 
 a bolder light, than in 3d Part of Davis’s Revelations. 
 Allowing the correctness of Professor Lewis’s favorite 
 theory, the Devil has a much greater sympathy for 
 suffering humanity than we have ever given him credit 
 for. 
 
 The positions of the three learned professions—Law, 
 Medicine, and Divinity, are then analyzed. The interest 
 of each of these great and noble professions is shown 
 to be contrary to the interests of society, so that these 
 must inevitably prevent nearly all philanthropic action. 
 
 Thus it is actually for the interest of every lawyer, 
 that there should be discord, contention, fraud, violence, 
 and crime in every community. 
 
 It is for the interest of every doctor that there should 
 be violations of sanitary laws, sickness, pain, distress, 
 immorality, and vice. 
 
 And it is for the interest of clergymen, that people 
 should be docile, obedient, superstitious—believing 
 what they are taught, and exercising no independence 
 of opinion. 
 
 For, were people all honest and peaceful, there would 
 be little need of lawyers. 
 
 Were all so intelligent and virtuous as to regard the 
 laws of life, there would be little need of doctors. 
 
 And, should all men exercise the right of private 
 judgment in matters of faith, there would be, at all 
 events, fewer preachers. 
 
 Thus, the interests of the members of these powerful 
 
64 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 professions are, according to the work we are noticing, 
 antagonistic to the interests of society—and in regard 
 to lawyers and doctors, we suppose it will scarcely be 
 denied. 
 
 24. 
 
 MORE GUNS PROM THE FORTIFICATIONS OF ORTHO¬ 
 DOXY. 
 
 New York, August 24, 1847. 
 
 The editor of one influential city journal replies to 
 another editor, thus:— 
 
 The Commercial Advertiser , of this city, with an ap¬ 
 parent anxiety to forestall opinion on the subject of 
 “ Davis's Revelations,” gave, early in the week, a notice 
 of a full column in length, which was of so queer a 
 character as to deserve some comment. The Commer¬ 
 cial says, literally or in substance:— 
 
 1. This is so large a book that we have not read it, 
 and shall not. 
 
 2. It is absurd and ridiculous. 
 
 3. It is incomprehensible. 
 
 4. It is dangerous. 
 
 5. It teaches materialism. 
 
 6. It teaches infidelity. 
 
 7. It is false. 
 
 Finally, the Commercial is astonished that so many 
 respectable men, both clergymen and laymen, should 
 have given their names and influence to such a book. 
 
 It strikes us that this is a droll piece of criticism to 
 come from such a paper. We are forced to look upon 
 
65 
 
 THE “ COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER.’’ 
 
 the writer of such a criticism as this as an arrant bl >ck- 
 head ; a blockhead, for saying so much of a book he had 
 not read; a blockhead for calling a thing dangerous 
 which he had already pronounced absurd and ridiculous; 
 and a very great blockhead for pretending to tell what 
 doctrines are taught by a book which he has pronounced 
 incomprehensible without reading ! 
 
 If this is a sample of the criticisms of such papers as 
 the Commercial , the fewer the better. 
 
 So much for the first gun, which begins the battle 
 which is about to rage against this remarkable work. 
 
 25. 
 
 THE CLAIRVOYANT’S BOOK AND THE “COMMERCIAL 
 ADVERTISER.” 
 
 New York, September 2,1847. 
 
 I am more and more surprised at the great war that 
 is raging among editors. The following review has 
 just come into my hands :— 
 
 We are too w r ell assured of the interest connected 
 with the remarkable work above mentioned, to fear that 
 our readers will grow weary of a discussion of its merits. 
 We know too well what hold such a book must have 
 upon the mind of every intelligent person, not to be 
 convinced that there is no subject with which we could 
 occupy our columns to more advantage. Whatever 
 may be the ultimate conclusion of the world in respect 
 to this work, there can be no question of the importance 
 of its pretensions. 
 
 The Commercial Advertiser, a few days since, under 
 
06 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 the head of “ Religious Intelligence,” contained a second 
 attack upon this work, of a column and a half in length, 
 some points of which we propose to notice. 
 
 The Commercial says :— 
 
 “ A revelation having already been made to man from the Di¬ 
 vine Being himself, as is unanswerably demonstrated by both fact 
 and argument, no subsequent revelation from an inferior being 
 can be received by men as authoritative. The minor can not over¬ 
 rule the major, the inferior ihe superior. What God has revealed 
 neither men nor angels may gainsay, qualify, improve upon, or add 
 to; when the Source of all being has made known his law, the 
 profoundest investigations of the highest order of created intelli¬ 
 gences, with their influences and conclusions, are of no account 
 whatever, and are lighter than the small dust of the balance.” 
 
 The Commercial refers, we suppose, to the Bible— 
 which is a collection of the revelations of various indi¬ 
 viduals, supposed to he more or less inspired, and in 
 which one adds to another, and the New Testament 
 overrules the Old, as certainly as the Gospel has dis¬ 
 placed the Law. Such a revelation, then, complete, in¬ 
 disputable, and satisfactory, has never existed. What¬ 
 ever may be thought of the Bible, in other respects, it 
 must be conceded, that men can not understand it alike, 
 and that it does not impress itself upon men’s minds, as 
 the clear and direct revelation of the Supreme Intelli¬ 
 gence. A direct revelation from God, could not be 
 mistaken by those for whom it was intended. 
 
 The Commercial then narrows the question to this :— 
 
 “ Is Mr. Davis’s book a revelation from God, or is it not ?” 
 
 We should answer : it is rather a revelation of God— 
 than from him. God is revealed in his works, aud it is 
 
THE “ COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER.” 67 
 
 these works which are revealed in the book in question. 
 The truths of Astronomy, of Geology, of Natural His¬ 
 tory, are revelations, and of necessity, truthful revela¬ 
 tions, of the Supreme Being. 
 
 Defining further what a revelation is, or should be, 
 the Commercial says :— 
 
 “What it reveals must be authentic, a dictum, an absolute, 
 authoritative making known of the truth. It can take no cog¬ 
 nizance of falsehood, and enter into no controversy. A revelation 
 from such a source can not argue. The moment it does so, it ceases 
 to he a revelation. 
 
 If this rule be applied to the Bible, it is fatal to its 
 claims as a revelation; for there is scarcely a book be¬ 
 tween its covers, which does not contain arguments of 
 all kinds. Where is to be found a more elaborate 
 reasoner than St. Paul, or a more pointed one than 
 Christ himself ? The Commercial says:— 
 
 “ An argumentative exposition of that which is professedly re¬ 
 ceived by revelation from the great source of truth, volunteered 
 by the relator, is indeed an anomaly—it disproves either the rela¬ 
 tor’s avowed instant perception of the truth, or his confidence in 
 the perception of the source whence he professes to have re 
 ceived it. 
 
 How any one believing in the inspiration of Paul and 
 Peter, could make such a sweeping assertion, passes 
 our comprehension. But, in reality, the revelations 
 of Davis have a wider scope than this critic seems to 
 understand. He reveals not only processes of nature, 
 but processes of thought. He does not merely say, God 
 exists, but he reveals a process of logical reasoning, 
 which demonstrates that sublime fact. And this, 
 though an argument, is no less a revelatior because 
 
68 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 that Davis in his natural state is quite incapable of con¬ 
 ceiving of such an argument. Thus, this is a revelation 
 not merely to the credulity of man, but to his reason, 
 and such a revelation must be argumentative and logical 
 in the highest degree. Such a revelation as the Com¬ 
 mercial describes is only tit for those who are incapa¬ 
 ble of reasoning. The Commercial's objection to this 
 work, therefore, seems to us one of its highest merits. 
 
 The Commercial insists that the evidence of the re¬ 
 ality of this revelation is not sufficient. The evidence 
 is not only superior to that connected with any other 
 revelation that we know of, but is of the most absolute 
 character. The names of some fifty to a hundred 
 persons now living, as witnesses of this revelation, are 
 subscribed to its manuscripts. 
 
 These are, many of them, persons of high standing, 
 and all men whose evidence is good in any Court of 
 Justice. Have we any such evidence as this of the 
 genuineness of St. John’s gospel, which is doubted by 
 profound theologians? This will not do. The evi¬ 
 dence in regard to Davis’s revelations, is complete and 
 overwhelming. 
 
 The Commercial's next objection is, that these reve¬ 
 lations— 
 
 “ Professing to come directly from the ‘ focus ’ of truth, have 
 no feature in common with a prior revelation proved to have 
 emanated from the same source.” 
 
 The writer of this sentence, it appears, has not read 
 the work which he is criticising; for Davis reveals, 
 among other things, the degree of truth and authority 
 which belongs to all prior revelations, and shows how 
 
PAitKE Godwin’s opinion. 
 
 69 
 
 for, and in what sense they can he said t: have ema¬ 
 nated from the same source. 
 
 The intimation of the Commercial , that this work ab¬ 
 solutely contradicts, assails, and denies the whole Bible, 
 from Genesis to Revelations, and impinges the honesty 
 and veracity of each of its writers, from Moses to St. 
 John, is a falsehood of the grossest character j and 
 proves conclusively, either that the writer of the arti¬ 
 cle has not read the book, or that he is a deliberate 
 falsifier ! 
 
 In short, the whole column and a half of this “ reli¬ 
 gious intelligence ” of the Commercial is a tissue of 
 misrepresentations and falsehoods ; the offspring of inex¬ 
 cusable ingorance or of a disregard of moral principle, 
 which we refrain from characterizing in such terms as 
 seem to us necessary to convey a proper idea of its 
 baseness. 
 
 The case of attempted imposition on Davis, by a 
 clergyman, to which the Covimercial alludes, is of little 
 importance, and is susceptible of a very simple explana¬ 
 tion. Besides, a clergyman who would lie to Davis, 
 would lie to any body else, and is not worthy of credit. 
 
 36. 
 
 PARKE GODWIN’S OPINION OF THE BOOK. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, September 19, 1847. 
 
 A gentleman has just called to read and leave with 
 me the following paragraph, taken from an influent.<tl 
 New York journal:— 
 
70 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 Parke Godwin, Esq., of this city, a son in-law of "Wil 
 liam Cnllen Bryant, and long associated with him in 
 the management of the Evening Post ; an author of 
 deserved celebrity; a translator of some of the great¬ 
 est works that ever appeared in the German language; 
 in a word, a gentleman of fine taste and distinguished 
 ability, in a letter published in the London People's 
 Journal , says of this work of Davis, that “ it is writ¬ 
 ten with great coherence and profundity”—that it 
 “ unfolds a true method of reasoning which any 
 reader will confess is ingenious and profound ”—that it 
 contains “ the most rigid and unflinching logic —and 
 that “ as a mere work of speculation, to consider it in 
 no other light, it is of the highest interest —that it is 
 an “ extraordinary work in every light in which we may 
 regard it —that “ it displays astonishing, almost pro¬ 
 digious powers of generalizationand Mr. Godwin 
 asserts that hundreds of the most respectable and sound- 
 minded men in this city, are, after deliberate inquiry 
 into all the circumstances of the case, most profoundly 
 convinced of the claims of this work as the unaided 
 production of Davis while in a state of mesmeric or 
 magnetic clairvoyance. 
 
 Such is the testimony, and such are the opinions, of 
 Parke Godwin respecting a book, which the long-eared 
 critic of the Commercial and Columbian calls “ an im¬ 
 pudent bamboozlement.” 
 
 In view ot such stupidity, we blush for the press, and 
 humbly trust that it has very little to do with guiding 
 and governing public opinion. 
 
MR. N. P. WILLIS. EDITOR. 
 
 71 
 
 37 . 
 
 MR. N. P. WILLIS, EDITOR OP THE HOME JOURNAL 
 
 New York, October 28, 1867. 
 
 I find myself becoming more and more curious about 
 notable people, who fill the conspicuous places in art 
 and literature. An editor occupies to me an unknown 
 station among men ; and an atithor , of high reputa¬ 
 tion, is beyond my comprehension ! I begin to wonder 
 whether I shall ever behold such renowned and world¬ 
 stirring men as Bryant, Greeley, Bennett, Godwin, &c. ? 
 Whether it will ever be possible for me to speak to 
 them, and to know them as fellow-members of the hu¬ 
 man race ? Whether, when [ meet them, and look at 
 them with my intense curiosity, I shall have sufficient 
 self-possession, and the requisite degree of spiritual 
 tranquillity, to obtain a correct “ impression” of their 
 most interior qualities and ruling characteristics ? For 
 this, after all, is the secret spring of my wishing to meet 
 them. 
 
 A few days since somebody presented me a printed 
 slip from the pen of Mr. N. P. Willis. It was the pre¬ 
 face to a lengthy and appreciative review in the Home 
 Journal of the “ Lectures,” and it read as follows :— 
 
 “ To an unbeliever it will be a most delicious and far-rcaching 
 work of imagination, written with a vast background o.' scien- 
 
72 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 tific and philosophical knowledge, while to the believer it will be, 
 of course, like converse with an archangel on the comparison of 
 other worlds with ours. We simply propose to enrich our columns 
 with an extract or two from the work, and to inform both be¬ 
 lievers and unbelievers in clairvoyance, of the existence of a book 
 which will be a ‘ witch’s broom’ to the imagination, enabling a 
 dreamer to visit the past, to visit stars, to measure his own value 
 in creation, and his own stage of progress between chaos and per¬ 
 fection, and, in short, to forget care and trifles very effectively and 
 go off on a revel of intoxicating and elevating imaginations. A 
 more suggestive and edifying book, at the same time let us say, 
 could scarcely come after the Bible. But without further intro¬ 
 duction let us proceed at once to the work itself.” 
 
 To-day I have, for the first time, seen Mr. Willis! 
 Ife was standing (when a friend kindly pointed him 
 out to me) on the steps of the Astor House. He ap¬ 
 peared to be about six feet in height; was easily and 
 gracefully dressed ; a profusion of beautiful brown, curly 
 hair; and a countenance, the expression of which gave 
 me, as I slowly walked by, a peculiarly exuberant at¬ 
 mosphere of magnetism, emanating, seemingly, from a 
 remarkable combination of eccentric but noble qualities, 
 in a state of energetic impulsiveness—altogether a sin¬ 
 gular mentality, and the thought awakened in my mind 
 was: “ What a shower of rich sunlight falls from 
 
 Nature’s beautiful flowers and forms into this man’s 
 feelings, but he is not quiet long enough at anyone time 
 to grow a field of wheat.” He neither attracted nor 
 repelled me. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF A SAILOR. 
 
 73 
 
 38 . 
 
 INTERVIEW WITH THE SPIRIT OF A SAILOR. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, October 30, 184T. 
 
 As I was strolling in the grove on the western de¬ 
 clivity of “ College Hill,” musing rather than thinking, 
 a blaze of keen-pointed magnetism suddenly enveloped 
 my entire body. It was a primitive sensation; recalling 
 the first time I experienced the mesmeric influence. 
 With singular distinctness, clearness and purity, a voice 
 said : “ Jackson—hear this child of misfortune! He 
 passed out of earth a gray-haired and wild-eyed, strong¬ 
 voiced, broken-hearted, and broken-beaded sailor.” 
 
 The remarkable sweetness of the petitioning voice, 
 emanating from unseen lips in the air, immediately se¬ 
 cured my undivided attention. I became a spirit—un¬ 
 conscious of a physical existence; and thus I both saw 
 and heard him who was called “The Child of Misfor¬ 
 tune.” He was an enthusiastic-looking man ; with an 
 expression of fervid sympathy in his large eyes; and 
 around his mouth a smile of humor and universal good 
 nature. 
 
 “ True,” he said, in a voice melodious with a sort of 
 impulsive tenderness—“ true, I am a broken-headed 
 sailor.” 
 
 “Your head is not broken,” I replied, with a tone 
 of playfulness. 
 
 4 
 
74 
 
 MEMO KAN DA. 
 
 “ No, sir, no ; it is not broken now. Although I left 
 the earth through an opening a comrade made in my 
 skull.” 
 
 Vividly and vigorously, as though he held the pencil 
 of the most masterly artist, and with great emotion, he 
 pictured before me in the air, as on a vast sheet, the 
 living identities, the likenesses of persons once in flesh 
 and blood, with the time, place, circumstances, &c., 
 which entered into his personal recollections, and 
 which, by their immense combination and power, made 
 up the catalogue of unfortunate causes and miserable 
 effects visible in the very life of his existence. 
 
 The picture was a merchant-ship at sea; a plot, a 
 quarrel, and a mutiny; officers and sailors disputing 
 and wrestling together, and pummeling one another in 
 the most unmerciful manner; fists, handspikes, swords, 
 bloody faces visible all around; and the burly figure 
 of the man then before me (as he appeared when a 
 sailor), sinking down, lower and lower; he was sinking 
 in the sea. A ruffianly-looking sailor, violently striking 
 him on the head with a heavy club, fractured his skull, 
 and threw him overboard during the tempestuous ex¬ 
 citement of the fight. 
 
 “ Oh, I understand now,” said I, “ how you left the 
 earth through a broken head.” And, I added : “ Do 
 you seek revenge? Would you punish the man who 
 broke your skull?” 
 
 A noble, generous smile illuminated his face, as he 
 replied, firmly: “No, sir, no; not that, sir, not that; 
 for that sailor was once a kind-hearted boy. We were 
 boys together. In many a street fight he stood by me 
 and I stood by him. One of these days, ‘Dug’ will 
 
THE UNIVEEC’r.MJM. 
 
 7 5 
 
 write the experience of that sailor-boy’s brother; and 
 I want you to promise me that you will read it, every 
 word, and hand it around among your neighbors and 
 chums, for it will soften their feelings toward us sailors, 
 and help the unfortunate boys on land.” 
 
 “Who is ‘Dug’?” I asked. 
 
 “ ‘ Dug’ is the lad that sailed on one voyage with us. 
 He was the story-teller! When you spy his yarn 
 about the boy going to the gallows, read every word of 
 it; for it tells what is better than a rope for a poor boy.” 
 
 I gave him my promise that if I ever found “ Dug’s” 
 story in print, it should receive my immediate atten¬ 
 tion. Thus ended the interview. It seemed to me 
 that I had been physically unconscious about two 
 hours; but the distant clock, on the steeple of the old 
 Dutch Reformed Church, had recorded the flight of 
 only twenty minutes. This feeling was attributable to 
 the mind’s usual estimate of the amount of time con¬ 
 sumed in the transpiration of a given numbei of events 
 
 29 . 
 
 FIRST NUMBER OF THE UNIYERCCELUM 
 
 Poughkeepsie, November 4, '•8*1. 
 
 The ship is launched. It is the first step in a new 
 experience. The public will now have a fair opportu¬ 
 nity to learn something of the principles of the new 
 “ Spiritual Philosophers.” * A.nd my name is put in 
 
 * The reader of this volume is referrod, for numerous important, sin¬ 
 gular events in the author’s personal psychological history, to his Auto¬ 
 biography, “ The Magic Staff.” 
 
76 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 as one of tlie editors ! The Scribe’s editorial, in the first 
 number, now before the world, embodies the only true 
 position. Read and remember these two paragraphs :— 
 
 But though the book entitled “ The Principles of 
 Nature,” &c., by Mr. Davis, the clairvoyant, is, as we 
 confess, the immediate cause which has led to the crea¬ 
 tion of this journal, we would not be understood as re¬ 
 ceiving this or any other mere book as infallible author¬ 
 ity in matters of faith and practice. To erect this, or 
 any other book, as an infallible standard , and to bow 
 slavishly to its teachings, without boldly inquiring into 
 their intrinsic propriety, would be at once to sacrifice 
 the high prerogatives of Reason, and to do violence to 
 those principles of free and unrestricted thought incul¬ 
 cated on almost every page of this same book. Mr. 
 Davis’s book, therefore, will be regarded as a light 
 rather than as an authority; and whatever devotion 
 we may manifest toward its teachings will be exhibited 
 because those teachings are presented to our reason in a 
 reliable form. 
 
 The word “ Univerccelumf which we have selected as 
 our title, means, literally translated, “ the united revolv¬ 
 ing heavens.” It was coined by the youthful clairvoyant 
 in the dictation of his wonderful book, and was used by 
 him as significant of all things, terrestrial and celestial, 
 existing in infinite space. We adopt this title, there¬ 
 fore, as an appropriate indication of the most expansive 
 possible sphere of inquiry ; and consistently with its 
 import, we shall know no 'party save the whole human 
 race, and no restriction of thought save that which is 
 prescribed by the laws of nature and the capacities of 
 the human mind. 
 
BUENKENHOF’s TRUTHFUL DREAM. 
 
 77 
 
 The complete reasonableness of this position must be 
 apparent to every rational and unprejudiced intellect. 
 This signifies true and lasting freedom from all arbi 
 trary standards in religion. 
 
 30. 
 
 BRENKENHOF’S TRUTHFUL DREAM. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, November 6, 1847. 
 
 A correspondent sends me, by to-day’s mail, a 
 translation of what he deems an interesting illustration 
 of “ Special Spiritual Providence.” It is called the 
 “Dream of the celebrated Mr. Yon Brenkenhof,” 
 which has already been fully published and widely 
 circulated. The truth of it is beyond a doubt, and it 
 is related as follows :— 
 
 “ Tliis gentleman dreamed one night that he was in a desert 
 and very dreary region, from which he longed to depart. He, 
 however, saw a man who induced him to remain there, and he 
 soon after saw this person, to whom he felt attached, expire. At 
 the same time he saw a long train of people in a strange and un¬ 
 usual dress, and then he awoke. The countenance and the whole 
 exterior of the man whom he saw in his dream made such an im¬ 
 pression upon his imagination, that he almost saw him when 
 awake. The whole scene was never obliterated from his mem¬ 
 ory, during his whole life. Some time afterward, he received a 
 commission from Frederick II., king of Prussia, to proceed to 
 Pomerania, in order to succor those provinces which had been 
 devastated by the Russians in the seven years’ war. Brenkenhof 
 journeyed thither, but found the wretchedness so great, and the 
 more closely he examined into it the greater he found it, that, 
 despairing of being able to render any assistance, he determined 
 
76 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 as one of tlie editors ! Tbe Scribe’s editorial, in the first 
 number, now before the world, embodies the only true 
 position. Read and remember these two paragraphs :— 
 
 But though the book entitled “ The Principles of 
 Nature,” &e., by Mr. Davis, the clairvoyant, is, as we 
 confess, the immediate cause which has led to the crea¬ 
 tion of this journal, we would not be understood as re¬ 
 ceiving this or any other mere book as infallible author¬ 
 ity in matters of faith and practice. To erect this, or 
 any other book, as an infallible standard , and to bow 
 slavishly to its teachings, without boldly inquiring into 
 their intrinsic propriety, would be at once to sacrifice 
 the high prerogatives of Reason, and to do violence to 
 those principles of free and unrestricted thought incul¬ 
 cated on almost every page of this same book. Mr. 
 Davis’s book, therefore, will be regarded as a light 
 rather than as an authority; and whatever devotion 
 we may manifest toward its teachings will be exhibited 
 because those teachings are presented to our reason in a 
 reliable form. 
 
 The word “ JJniverceelumf which we have selected as 
 our title, means, literally translated, “ the united revolv¬ 
 ing heavens.” It was coined by the youthful clairvoyant 
 in the dictation of his wonderful book, and was used by 
 him as significant of all things, terrestrial and celestial, 
 existing in infinite space. We adopt this title, there¬ 
 fore, as an appropriate indication of the most expansive 
 possible sphere of inquiry ; and consistently with its 
 import, we shall know no party save the whole human 
 race , and no restriction of thought save that which is 
 prescribed by the laws of nature and the capacities of 
 the human mind. 
 
BRENKENHOF’s TRUTIIFFL DREAM. 
 
 77 
 
 The complete reasonableness of this position must be 
 apparent to every rational and unprejudiced intellect. 
 This signifies true and lasting freedom from all arbi 
 trary standards in religion. 
 
 30. 
 
 BRENKENHOF’S TRUTHFUL DREAM. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, November 6, 1847. 
 
 A correspondent sends me, by to-day’s mail, a 
 translation of what he deems an interesting illustration 
 of “ Special Spiritual Providence.” It is called the 
 “Dream of the celebrated Mr. Von Brenkenhof,” 
 which has already been fully published and widely 
 circulated. The truth of it is beyond a doubt, and it 
 is related as follows :— 
 
 “ This gentleman dreamed one night that he was in a desert 
 and very dreary region, from which he longed to depart. He, 
 however, saw a man who induced him to remain there, and he 
 soon after saw this person, to whom he felt attached, expire. At 
 the same time he saw a long train of people in a strange and un¬ 
 usual dress, and then he awoke. The countenance and the whole 
 exterior of the man whom he saw in his dream made such an im¬ 
 pression upon his imagination, that he almost saw him when 
 awake. The whole scene was never obliterated from his mem¬ 
 ory, during his whole life. Some time afterward, he received a 
 commission from Frederick II., king of Prussia, to proceed to 
 Pomerania, in order to succor those provinces which had been 
 devastated by the Russians in the seven years’ war. Brenkenhof 
 journeyed thither, but found the wretchedness so great, and the 
 more closely he examined into it the greater he found it, that, 
 despairing of being able to render any assistance, he determined 
 
80 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 Its principles are the unchanging laws of God; 
 easy—when the mind shall be freed from local igno¬ 
 rances—for all to understand. 
 
 Its practices will be highly beneficial for all of the 
 family of man. 
 
 The few and simple, yet beautiful laws of God, on 
 which this new religion is based, are: 1st. That the 
 moving power of nature, the spirit of the universe, 
 God—or by whatever other name this incomprehensible 
 creative essence may be called, has created the general 
 qualities of humanity, and made one man to differ from 
 another by giving to each his own peculiar compound 
 of these human qualities. 
 
 2d. That this ever-acting spirit of the universe so 
 forms- all men that they are compelled to believe or 
 disbelieve, not by their own will, but according to the 
 strongest evidence at the time made upon their minds ; 
 and to feel, not as they may desire, but in accordance 
 with the instincts also thus forced upon them by this 
 universal creating power. 
 
 3d. That man is thus made to be what he is without 
 his knowledge, or possibility of merit or demerit on his 
 part, and that, as the created, he must have power only 
 to think and act as it has been given to him. 
 
 4th. Therefore, whatever may be man’s individual 
 qualities; whatever may be his thoughts or his actions; 
 they all, directly or indirectly, emanate from God ; from 
 the unknown creative power of the universe. 
 
 5th. That this power, and not that man, the created, 
 is alone the author of whatever is done upon the earth 
 and throughout the universe. It is, therefore, the es¬ 
 sence of ignorant presumption for any man to pretend 
 
THE CLAIRVOYANT FACULTY. 
 
 81 
 
 that he knows any thing of the will or intentions of 
 this power, or to speak and write of it, as do the parrot- 
 taught-unthinking in all countries. The will or inten¬ 
 tions of this unknown power may be conjectured by 
 man, from feeling, seeing, and considering the effects 
 of creation as they exist within himself, and the cir¬ 
 cumstances around him; but, until more facts shall be 
 discovered, these imaginations will be vague and most 
 uncertain. 
 
 6th. That these principles, fully comprehended, are 
 abundantly sufficient to direct all men to wisdom, good¬ 
 ness, and happiness. The practices of this new religion 
 will be the reverse of that which has so far prevailed 
 over the world, and made it a chaotic pandemonium. 
 
 Last summer I saw in a vision, and wrote out a chart 
 of “ The History and Destiny of the Race.”* The lead¬ 
 ing idea makes me think that Robert Owen will not 
 realize his beautiful and desirable hopes in this world. 
 
 33. 
 
 TESTS OF THE CLAIRVOYANT FACULTY IN EUROPE. 
 
 New York, November 15, 1847. 
 
 It is truly refreshing and encouraging to hear that 
 foreigners, men of science and authority, have investi¬ 
 gated and indorsed the facts of clairvoyance. A friend 
 of psychological progression kindly translates and 
 sends me the following account, which was contained 
 
 * See full description in the “ Magic Staff." 
 
 4* 
 
82 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 in a Strasburg paper, called the Courier of the Lowei 
 Rhine, No. 31, 12th of March, 1807 :—- 
 
 “ The history of the somnambulist of Lyons,” says the Jour¬ 
 nal de Paris , “ presents an assemblage of such striking facts, 
 that we should be inclined to regard the whole as charlatanry 
 and deceit, if credible eye-witne3ses had not vouched for the 
 truth of it. People may smile on hearing it asserted, that an 
 hysterical woman possesses the rare gift of revealing future 
 things to those with whom she stands in rapport , but such is the 
 case; the wise man believes without precipitation, and doubts 
 with caution. M. Petetain, an esteemed physician in Lyons, who 
 has long watched the progress of the disorder with which the 
 lady is afflicted, is occupied in arranging the facts lie has col¬ 
 lected, and in preparing them for publication. Previous to the 
 appearance of M. Petetain’s announced work, we will adduce 
 the following facts, which are related by a respectable eye-wit¬ 
 ness, M. Ballanche. 
 
 “The catalepsy of a lady in Lyons, had been for some time the 
 subject of conversation in that city; and M. Petetain had already 
 published several very surprising facts relative to it, when M. 
 Ballanche became desirous of being an eye-witness of the aston¬ 
 ishing effects of this condition. He chose the moment for visit¬ 
 ing this lady when she was approaching the crisis (the time 
 of the magnetic sleep). At the door he learned that not every 
 one, without distinction, was permitted to approach the patient’s 
 couch, but that she must herself grant the permission. She was 
 therefore asked if she would receive M. Ballanche; to which 
 she replied in the affirmative: upon this he approached the bed, 
 in which he saw a female lying motionless, and who was to all 
 appearance, sunk into a profound sleep. He laid his hand, as lie 
 had been instructed, on the stomach of the somnambulist, and 
 then began his interrogatories, '['he patient answered them all 
 most correctly. This surprising result only excited the curiosity 
 of the inquirer. He had with him several letters from one of 
 his friends, one of which he took, with whose contents he 
 imagined himself best acquainted, and laid it, folded up, on the 
 
THE CLAIRVOYANT FACULTY. 
 
 83 
 
 stomach of the patient. He then asked the sleeper if she could 
 read the letter, to which she answered yes. He then inquired 
 if it did not mention the name of a certain person whom he 
 named. She denied that it did. M. Ballanche, being certain 
 that the patient was mistaken, repeated the question, and received 
 a similar answer in the negative; the somnambulist even ap¬ 
 peared angry at his doubting it, and pushed away the hand of 
 the inquirer and the letter from her. M. Ballanche, struck with 
 this obstinacy, went to one side with the letter, read it, and 
 found to his great astonishment that he had not laid the letter he 
 intended to have selected on the stomach of the sleeper; and 
 that, therefore, the error was on his side. He approached the 
 bed a second time, laid that particular letter on the place; and 
 the patient then said, with a certain degree of satisfaction, that 
 she read the name which he had previously mentioned. 
 
 “This experiment would, doubtless, have satisfied most men; 
 but M. Ballanche went still further. He had been told that the 
 patient could see through the darkest substances, and read writing 
 and letters through walls. He asked if this were really the case, 
 to which she replied in the affirmative. He therefore took a 
 book, went into an adjoining room, held with one hand a leaf of 
 this book against the wall, and with tho other took hold of one of 
 those that were present, who, joining hands, formed a chain which 
 reached to the patient, on whose stomach the last person laid his 
 hand. The patient read the leaves that were held to the wall, 
 which were often turned over, and read them without making the 
 smallest error. 
 
 “This is a faithful and simple relation of whatM. Ballanche saw. 
 An infinite number of objections may be brought against it, but a 
 hundred thousand substantial arguments can not overthrow one 
 single fact. The lady still lives, is seen by many impartial per¬ 
 sons, and was long attended by an expert and respectable physi¬ 
 cian who attests the same. The individuals give their names. 
 Who is bold enough still to deny it?” 
 
 So far the translation from the Strasburg paper. 
 
 This narrative containsnothing that isnot confirmed by 
 
84 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 numberless experiments : one circumstance is, however, 
 remarkable, that the lady in question can read at a dis¬ 
 tance, without coming into immediatecontact, when a 
 line of persons take hold of each other’s hands, the first 
 of whom lays his hand upon the pit of the heart—not 
 of the stomach, which has nothing to do with the mat¬ 
 ter—and the last holds the letter: however, she reads 
 through neither the partition nor the wall, but through 
 the soul of him who holds the book or letter. By a 
 similar connection or chain, electricity, or the electric 
 shock is communicated. All this is still obscure, but 
 in the sequel it will become clearer. 
 
 Equally remarkable, and perhaps still more important, 
 is the observation, to which all confidence may be at¬ 
 tached, that somnambulists, when they have attained to 
 a certain high degree of clearness of vision, manifestly 
 and distinctly perceive the thoughts and ideas of him 
 with whom they are placed in rapport. He, there¬ 
 fore, who intends to magnetize another, should himself 
 be a person of pure heart, of piety and integrity. 
 
 Among so many experiments of this kind, I will only 
 adduce one, which Gmelin relates in a work on the 
 subject. He states that, in the year 1780, he went to 
 Carlsruhe to collect facts relative to magnetism, and 
 found what he was in search of. He was told there was 
 at that time a somnambulist living there,.whose inward 
 vision was so clear that she could distinctly read what 
 passed in the souls of those with whom she was placed 
 in connection : If he would, therefore, bring the patients, 
 whom he had then under cure, distinctly in succession 
 before her, she would tell him what his ideas were. 
 He followed this advice, and found the fact was really 
 
THE CLAIRVOYANT FACULTY. 
 
 85 
 
 so: she told him, distinctly, everything that he im¬ 
 agined. He adds:— 
 
 Another individual, of great integrity, and to whom 
 I am much attached, told me that his wife had once a 
 housekeeper, who had also been magnetized on account 
 of illness, and had at length, during her magnetic sleep, 
 attained an extraordinary degree of clearness of vision. 
 In this state she had communicated remarkable and 
 important discoveries concerning the invisible world, 
 which were in exact accordance with a work of mine, 
 entitled “Scenes from the World of Spirits,” although 
 she had never seen my book, nor knew, nor could have 
 known, of its existence. 
 
 She brought intelligence from the invisible world 
 respecting certain important personages, enough to 
 make the hearers ears tingle. She once said to her 
 master, in the crisis, “Your brother has just expired at 
 Magdeburg.” No one knew any thing of his illness, and, 
 besides this, Magdeburg was many miles distant. A 
 few days after, the news arrived of his death, which ex¬ 
 actly agreed with the prediction. 
 
 According to our common conceptions of human na¬ 
 ture, the fact is astonishing, incomprehensible, and most 
 remarkable, that most somnambulists, even the most 
 vulgar and uneducated people, begin clearly to recog¬ 
 nize their bodily illness, and even prescribe the most 
 appropriate medicines for themselves, which the physi¬ 
 cian must also make use of if he wishes to gain his 
 end. Even if they do not know the names of the reme¬ 
 dies, yet they describe their qualities so minutely that 
 the physician can soon ascertain them. In this state, 
 
86 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 also, they speak high German, where this is the lan¬ 
 guage of the pulpit and the written tongue.* 
 
 It is also very remarkable that somnambulists, who 
 have often been in this state and at length attain this 
 clearness of vision, arise, perform all kinds of work, 
 play on an instrument if they have been taught music, 
 go out to walk, &c., without their bodily senses having 
 even the smallest perception of the visible world : they 
 are then in the state of common sleep-walkers. Thus it 
 happened, that while I was at Bremen, in the autumn 
 of the year 1798, a young woman came to me to ask 
 my advice respecting hereyes. She was a somnambu¬ 
 list, and had herself decided upon consulting me in the 
 crisis ; her mother accompanied her, but she awoke in 
 my presence, and I was therefore obliged to prescribe 
 the appropriate remedies alone and without her assist¬ 
 ance. 
 
 All these incidents, and others still more wonderful, 
 may be found in the writings of the above mentioned 
 authors. The most eminent physicians, and, generally 
 speaking, every learned and rational thinking person, 
 who has had the opportunity and the will to examine, 
 with precision, the elfects of animal magnetism, will at¬ 
 test that all that has been now advanced is pure truth, 
 aud confirm it by their testimony. But how is it that 
 no one has hitherto attempted to draw hence those fer¬ 
 tile inferences by which the knowledge of human na¬ 
 ture might be so much increased ? To the best of my 
 knowledge, no one has yet done so. Truly, so long as 
 materialism is considered as the only true system, it is 
 
 * In most parts of Germany, the middle and lower classes speak low 
 German, which varies considerably from the written language. 
 
THE CLAIRVOYANT FACULTY. 
 
 S7 
 
 impossible to comprehend such wonderful things ; but, 
 according to my system of theocratic liberty, not only 
 is the whole comprehensible, but we are also led by 
 magnetism to the most important discoveries, which 
 before were only mysterious enigmas. I entreat a can¬ 
 did and impartial investigation of the following con¬ 
 clusions. 
 
 Every naturalist knows, and it is generally acknowl¬ 
 edged truth, that there is a certain extremely rarefied 
 and active fluid, which fills the whole creation, so far as 
 we are acquainted with it. We call this fluid rarefied 
 celestial air; or, in one word, ether. Newton was 
 acquainted with it, and called it Sensorium Dei—the 
 organ of Divine sensation. Euler believed that the 
 bodies of light gave a tremulous motion to this fluid, 
 which extended itself till it reached the sight, and thus 
 formed the light: which opinion I also regarded for a 
 long time as the most probable; but, on close exam¬ 
 ination, I find it impossible. The million different in¬ 
 tersections of this tremulous motion must, necessarily, 
 confuse their direction. Even the definition of sound, 
 by the progressive motion of the atmosphere, is unten¬ 
 able ; for if we attentively observe how many thousand 
 tones—sometimes all at once, and at another following 
 each other in rapid succession—are distinguished by the 
 ear in a variously-composed concerto, each of which 
 tones must, therefore, occasion its appropriate motion in 
 the atmosphere: I say, how can such a material motion 
 be possible, without confusing itself a hundred, nay, a 
 thousand times? 
 
 It is also acknowledged, further, that this ethereal 
 fluid penetrates through the most compact bodies, so 
 
88 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 tliat it fills all things, and is itself perfectly penetrable; 
 for if it were not so, it conld not penetrate through the 
 densest bodies. Light, electricity, galvanism, and per¬ 
 haps also the magnetic power of iron, are, very probably, 
 nothing else than different exhibitions of this one and 
 the same fluid. 
 
 33. 
 
 CAZOTTE’S PROPHECY FULFILLED DURING THE FRENCH 
 REVOLUTION. 
 
 Williamsburgh, November 20, 1847. 
 
 A gentleman, who writes me that he has been “ ab¬ 
 sorbed ” in reading the large book of Lectures, thinks 
 I might like to read some demonstrations of the power 
 of prophecy. He writes that a most remarkable in¬ 
 stance of the development of the faculty of presentiment 
 is incontestably the prediction of M. Cazotte, at a din¬ 
 ner in Paris. A favorite German periodical work has 
 taken the liberty to ascribe the whole narrative to the 
 invention of some ingenious idler ; but this assertion is 
 destitute of proof. Jung Stilling says :—“ I can prove, 
 on the contrary, that it is literally and minutely true. 
 I have spoken upon the subject with a person of rank, 
 who sincerely loves the truth, and who was well ac¬ 
 quainted with Cazotte : and this individual assured me 
 that Cazotte was a man of great piety, and endowed 
 with a high degree of knowledge ; that he frequently 
 predicted the most remarkable things, which were 
 always fulfilled; and that he testified, at the same time, 
 
CAZOTTF/S PROPHECY FULFILLED. 
 
 89 
 
 that they were communicated to him by means of in¬ 
 tercourse with spirits.” 
 
 The narrative was found among the papers of the 
 late M. La Harpe, in his own handwriting. This La 
 Ilarpe was a member of the Royal Academy of Sciences 
 in Paris. 
 
 I will first relate the narrative in La Harpe’s own 
 words, and then add a few remarks respecting its au¬ 
 thenticity. He writes as follows :— 
 
 “It seems to me as if it were but yesterday, although it hap¬ 
 pened at the beginning of the year 1788. We were dining with 
 one of our colleagues of the academy, a man of genius and re¬ 
 spectability. The company, which was numerous, was selected 
 from all ranks—courtiers, judges, learned men, academicians, &c., 
 and had done justice to the ample, and, as usual, well-furnished 
 repast. At the dessert, Malvasier and Constantin heightened the 
 festivity, and augmented, in good society, that kind of freedom 
 which does not always keep itself within defined bounds. 
 
 “The world had at that time arrived at such a pitch, that it 
 was permitted to say any thing with the intention of exciting mer¬ 
 riment. Chamfort had read to us some of his blasphemous and 
 lascivious tales, and noble ladies had listened to them even with¬ 
 out having recourse to their fans. After this, followed a whole 
 host of sarcasms on religion. One person quoted a tirade from 
 Pucelle; another reminded the company of that philosophical 
 verse of Diderot’s, in which he says, ‘Strangle the last king with 
 the entrails of the last priest! ’—and all clapped applause. Another 
 stood up, elevating a bumper, and exclaimed, ‘ Yes, gentlemen, 
 I am just as certain that there is no God, as I am certain that 
 Homer is a fooland, in reality, he was as certain of one as the 
 other, for the company had just spoken of Homer and of God, 
 and there were among the guests those who had spoken well of 
 both the one and the other. 
 
 “ The conversation now became more serious. The revolution 
 that Voltaire had effected was spoken of with admiration; and 
 
90 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 it was agreed that it was this which formed the principal basis 
 of his fame. He had given the tone to his age; he had written 
 in such a manner, that he was read in both the ante-chamber and 
 the drawing-room. One of the company related to us, with a 
 loud laugh, that his hairdresser, while powdering him, said, 
 
 ‘ Look, sir, although I am only a poor journeyman, yet I have no 
 more religion than another!’ It was concluded that the revolu¬ 
 tion would be completed without delay, and that superstition 
 and fanaticism must make way for philosophy. The probable 
 period was calculated, and which of the company would have 
 the happiness of living during the reign of Reason. The more 
 aged lamented that they dared not flatter themselves with the 
 idea; the younger ones rejoiced at the probability that they 
 would live to see it; and the academy, in particular, was con¬ 
 gratulated on having prepared the great work, and for being the 
 focus, the center, and the prime mover, of liberty of thought. 
 
 “ A single individual had taken no part in all this pleasant con¬ 
 versation, and had even very gently scattered some jokes upon 
 their noble enthusiasm. It was M. Cazotte, an amiable and 
 original man, but who, unfortunately, was completely taken up 
 with the reveries of those who believe in a superior enlighten¬ 
 ing. He now took up the discourse, and said in the most serious 
 tone: ‘Gentlemen, rejoice; you will all become witnesses of 
 that great and sublime revolution which yon so much desire. 
 You know that I apply myself a little to prophesying : I repeat 
 it, you will all see it.’ 
 
 “ ‘ There requires no prophetic gift for that purpose,’ was the 
 reply. 
 
 “ ‘ True,’ rejoined he, ‘but perhaps something more for what I 
 am now going to tell you. Do you know what will result from 
 this revolution ’ (that is, when reason triumphs in opposition to 
 revealed religion) ? ‘ what it will be to you all, as many as are 
 now here? what will be its immediate consequences, its unde¬ 
 niable and acknowledged effects?’ 
 
 “ ‘ Let us see !’ said Oondorcet, putting on an air of simplicity; 
 ‘it is not disagreeable to a philosopher to meet with a prophet.’ 
 
 “‘You, M. Oondorcet,’ continued M. Cazotte, ‘you will give 
 
cazotte’s prophecy fulfilled. 
 
 91 
 
 up the ghost, stretched out on the floor of a subterraneous 
 prison. You will die of poison, that you will have swallowed, in 
 order to escape the executioner—of poison, which the happiness 
 of those times shall compel you always to carry about with 
 yon !’ 
 
 “This, at first, excited great astonishment; but it was soon 
 remembered that the worthy Oazotte sometimes dreamed wak¬ 
 ing, and the company burst out into a loud laugh. ‘M. Ca¬ 
 zotte,’-said one of the guests, ‘the tale you relate to us is not 
 near so amusing as your “ Devil in Love.” ’ (‘ Le Viable Amour- 
 cux' is a pretty little romance, written by Cazotte.) ‘What 
 devil has suggested to you the dungeon, the poison, and the exe¬ 
 cutioner? What has this in common with philosophy and the 
 reign of reason ?’ 
 
 “ ‘ This is just what I tell you,’ replied Cazotte. ‘In the name 
 of philosophy, in the name of humanity, liberty, and reason, will 
 it come to pass, that such will be your end : and reason will then 
 certainly triumph, for she will have her temples; nay, at that 
 period, there will be no other temples in all France than the 
 temples of reason.’ 
 
 “‘Truly,’ said Chamfort, with a sarcastic smile, ‘you will be 
 no priest of these temples.’ 
 
 “ Oazotte answered : ‘ I hope not; but you, M. Chamfort, who 
 will be one of them, and are very worthy of being so, you will 
 open your veins by twenty-two incisions of the razor, and yet 
 you will die only some months afterward !’ 
 
 “The company looked at each other, and laughed again. 
 
 “Oazotte continued: ‘You, M. Vicq. d’Azyr, will not open 
 your veins yourself, but will afterward cause them to be opened 
 six times in one day in an attack of the gout, in order to make the 
 matter more sure, and you will die the same night! 
 
 “ ‘You, M. Nicolai, will die upon the scaffold! — 
 
 “ ‘ You, M. Bailiy, on the scaffold!— 
 
 “‘You, M. Malesherbes, on the scaffold !’ 
 
 “‘God be thanked!’ exclaimed M. Rancher, ‘it appears that 
 M. Oazotte has only to do with the academicians: he has jnsf 
 made dreadful havoc among them. I, Heaven he praised — ’ 
 
92 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 “Cazotte interrupted him: ‘You!—you will die on the scaf¬ 
 fold also!’ 
 
 “‘Ha! this is a wager,’resounded from all sides; ‘he has 
 sworn to exterminate us all!’ 
 
 “ Cazotte. No, it is not I that have sworn it. 
 
 “ The company. Shall we be then under subjection to Turks 
 and Tartars ? and yet— 
 
 Cazotte. Nothing less. I have already told you that you will 
 then be under the government of philosophy and reason. Those 
 that will treat you in this manner will be all philosophers ; they 
 will be continually making use of those very expressions which 
 you have been mouthing for the last hour; they will repeat all 
 your maxims, and, like you, will quote the verses of Diderot and 
 Pucelle. 
 
 “The guests whispered into each other’s ears: ‘You see 
 clearly that he has lost his reason ’ (for while speaking thus, he 
 continued very serious). ‘Don’t you see that he is joking, and 
 in all his jests he mixes something of the wonderful?’—‘Yes,’ 
 said Chamfort, ‘ but I must confess his wonders are not very 
 pleasing; they are much too gallows-like. And when shall all 
 this take place ?’ 
 
 “ Cazotte. Six years shall not pass over before all that I have 
 told shall be fulfilled ! 
 
 “ ‘ You tell us many wonderful things ’—it was this time I (La 
 Harpe) that spoke—‘and do you say nothing of me?’ 
 
 “ ‘ With respect to you,’ answered Cazotte, ‘ a wonder will take 
 place that will be at least quite as remarkable. You will then be 
 a Christian!’ 
 
 “A general exclamation! ‘Now I am at ease,’said Cham¬ 
 fort ; ‘ if we only perish when La Harpe is a Christian, we are 
 immortal.’ 
 
 “ ‘We of the female sex,’ said the Duchess de Gramrnont, ‘are 
 fortunate in being reckoned as nothing in revolutions. When I 
 say as nothing, I do not intend to say that we do not interfere 
 in them a little; but it is a generally-received maxim that we, 
 and those of our sex, are not deemed responsible on that ac¬ 
 count.’ 
 
CAZOTTE S PROPHECY FULFILLED. 
 
 93 
 
 “ Cazotte. Your sex, ladies, will be this time no protection to 
 you; and however little you may be desirous of interfering, yet 
 you will be treated precisely as the men, and no difference will 
 be made with respect to you. 
 
 “ The Duchess. But what is it you are telling us, M. Cazotte? 
 You certainly are announcing the end of the world! 
 
 “ Cazotte. That I know not; but what I do know is, that you, 
 my lady duchess, will be drawn to the scatfold—you, and many 
 other ladies with you—upon a hurdle, with your hands bound 
 behind you. 
 
 “The Duchess. I hope, however, in that case, that I shall have 
 a mourning-coach. 
 
 “Cazotte. No, madam! Ladies of higher rank than you will 
 be drawn upon a hurdle, with their hands bound behind 
 them. 
 
 “The Duchess. Ladies of higher rank? What, the princesses 
 of the blood ? 
 
 “Cazotte. Of still higher rank! 
 
 “ A visible emotion now manifested itself through the whole 
 company, and the master of the house assumed an air of dis¬ 
 pleasure. It began to be evident that the joke was carried 
 too far. 
 
 “The Duchess de Grammont, in order to dispel the cloud, let 
 the last reply drop, and contented herself with saying, in a most 
 jocular tone, ‘You shall see he will not even leave me the con¬ 
 solation of a confessor!’ 
 
 '■'•Cazotte. No, madam; none will be given, either to you or 
 any one else. The last sufferer to whom the favor of a confessor 
 will be granted—(Here he paused a moment.) 
 
 '■'•The Duchess. Well, who will be the fortunate mortal to 
 whom this privilege will be granted ? 
 
 '•'■Cazotte. It will be the only privilege he will retain, and this 
 will be the king of France! 
 
 “ The master of the house now hastily arose from the table, 
 and the whole company with him. He went to M. Cazotte, and 
 said with deep emotion, * My dear Cazotte, this lamentable joke 
 has lasted long enough. You carry it too far, and to a degree 
 
94 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 in which you endanger yourself, and the company in tfhicb 
 you are.’ 
 
 “ Oazotte made no reply, and was preparing to depart when 
 the Duchess de Grammont, who still endeavored to prevent the T 
 matter being taken in a serious light, and labored to restore 
 hilarity, went to him and said, 1 Now, Mr. Prophet, you have 
 told us all our fortunes, but have said nothing of your owu 
 fate.’ 
 
 “He was silent, cast his eyes downward, and then said: ‘Have 
 you ever read in Josephus, madam, the history of the siege of 
 Jerusalem ?’ 
 
 “The Duchess. Certainly; who has not read it? But do as 
 though I had never read it. 
 
 “ Cazotte. Well, madam, during this siege a man went seven 
 successive days upon the walls round the town, in the sight of 
 both the besiegers and the besieged, and cried out incessantly, with 
 a mournful voice, ‘ Woe to Jerusalem! Woe to Jerusalem!’ On 
 the seventh day he cried, ‘ Woe to Jerusalem, and woe to myself 
 also!’ and in the same moment he was crushed to death by an 
 immense stone, hurled from the enemy’s engines. 
 
 •‘After these words, M. Oazotte made his bow and departed!” 
 
 It is certainly true, that all those who were present 
 at the dinner lost their lives precisely in the manner 
 here predicted by Cazotte. The person who gave the 
 entertainment, to whom Cazotte prophesied nothing, 
 and who was most probably the Duke de Chuiseul, 
 was the only one that died a natural death. The 
 
 worthy and pious Cazotte was guillotined. 
 
 If it be supposed that a fanatic or an enthusiast had in¬ 
 vented it for the purpose of saying something striking, 
 the nature of the narrative itself, which bears no re¬ 
 semblance to fiction, contradicts such a supposition, to 
 which must be added the certainty that M. La Harpe 
 wrote it with his own hand. It may bo found in the 
 
REV. T. L. HARRIS. 
 
 95 
 
 “(Euvres Choisies et Posthumes ” of M. La Harpe, cele¬ 
 brated member of the French Academy, published at 
 Paris by Mignerol, in four volumes octavo, 1806. 
 
 34. 
 
 MINISTRATIONS OF REV. T. L. HARRIS. 
 
 Willi amsburgh, L. I., November 25, 1847. 
 
 About eleven o’clock this morning I entered clair¬ 
 voyance.* My object was: the present location and 
 prospective condition of the hard-working Brother 
 Harris. He is growing exceedingly nervous and im¬ 
 pressible, and will become strangely susceptible to the 
 psychological play of spirits—a very painful and un¬ 
 profitable form of mediumship, from which I would 
 most gladly shield him. But I see that he is lengthen¬ 
 ing the distance between us, and presently it will be 
 impossible for me to help him. What an electrical 
 imagination ! He looks like an apocalyptic angel! 
 Through him, or by the imaginations of his spirit- 
 touched faculties, Hades will open and send into the 
 world generations of crushed and dumb victims of 
 social sins; the crust of society (he thinks) will crumble 
 under the enormous pressure of his pen ; the heavens will 
 send down the fire of destruction upon guilty govern 
 
 * The reader should bear in mind that since the 16th of May last, when 
 the author, without the aid of a magnetizer, passed into the “Superior 
 Condition,’’ he has enjoyed perfect recollections of his various percep¬ 
 tions and investigations. 
 
06 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 ments; and the tainted atmosphere of hell will sur¬ 
 round all who do not voluntarily forsake their sins. . . 
 
 This picture I get out of his present status. And yet 
 his mental powers have a large promise of health in 
 them, and energy and practicality ; and in years to 
 come he may recover his self-possession, and retire t. 
 calmer views of truth and humanity. 
 
 35. 
 
 SWEDENBORG AND DAVIS COMPARED. 
 
 New York, December 3, 1847. 
 
 An amiable and well-educated gentleman, of the 
 New Jerusalem persuasion, put in my hand this morn¬ 
 ing an article from the pen of Theophilus Parsons, Esq., 
 of Boston. The gentleman politely said that, in his 
 opinion, it very correctly shows the difference between 
 the disclosures of Swedenborg and those which have 
 been presented by Davis and other mesmeric clairvoy¬ 
 ants. Mr. Parsons thus proceeds:— 
 
 “ Now let us compare this case with that of Swedenborg. We 
 perceive at once this important point of difference. Mr. Davis’s 
 normal, or natural, or common state, has no apparent connection 
 whatever with his clairvoyant state. Doubtless there is a con¬ 
 nection which we can not perceive, between the peculiarities of 
 his constitution—physical, intellectual, or moral—and this extra¬ 
 ordinary clairvoyance. But it is certain that neither the amount 
 nor the character of his knowledge while clairvoyant, have any 
 perceptible relation whatever with the amount or character of 
 his knowledge in the natural state. These two things do not dif¬ 
 fer in degrees ; that is, Davis does not know a little of cosmogony 
 
SWEDENBORG AND DAVIS. 
 
 97 
 
 anil philosophy, and think a little about them in his natural state, 
 and then know and think a vast deal more on the same subjects 
 while clairvoyant; but in this last state he has a marvelous 
 quantity of knowledge on topics whereon in his natural state he 
 has never in his life known or thought any one thing great or 
 small. 
 
 “ In the next place, it does not at all appear that Davis’s fit¬ 
 ness or capability for this clairvoyance, or for the learning he 
 there acquires or utters, is the result of any intellectual training. 
 He has never been a student, never a practiced and logical 
 thinker; and has never acquired, by careful discipline and sus¬ 
 tained endeavor, the power of profound and coherent meditation. 
 It is not by reason of these things, or of any of them, in any de¬ 
 gree, that he is able to learn and tell in a state of clairvoyance 
 the wonders of cosmogony, or of any branches of science or phi¬ 
 losophy. 
 
 “The next thing to observe (and it is one of great iin 
 portance) is, that Davis, in his natural state , knows nothing 
 whatever of his magnetical state. They who looked on and saw 
 can tell him what was done to him and what he did ; they who 
 listened and took notes can repeat to him what he said ; but of 
 all this he knows nothing himself; absolutely nothing more than 
 if the Davis of the one state and the Davis of the other were two 
 persons, living in distant countries, without any intercourse with, 
 or any knowledge of, each other. And when they who heard 
 him repeat to him what he had said, they repeat it for the most 
 part in vain, for he can comprehend it but very imperfectly ; his 
 own reason has not the preparation nor the power required to 
 ascend to this lofty elevation. Thus it is with Mr. Davis; and 
 all of this is in accordance with the usual phenomena of mesmeric 
 clairvoyance, of which Mr. Davis may well be regarded as a 
 type. 
 
 “And now how is it with Swedenborg? In the first place, he 
 was prepared for his illumination not only by a thoroughly moral 
 and religious character, but by very many years most diligently 
 and most successfully devoted to the acquisition of a vast fund of 
 knowledge. And this learning, immense in its extent, and era- 
 
98 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 bracing most of the branches of science, was nevertheless closely 
 and definitely related to the higher learning which he afterward 
 acquired. I.t in fact became the foundation of his spiritual knowl¬ 
 edge, and served him in comprehending spiritual truths in all 
 their relations, and in illustrating them for the minds of others. 
 In the next place, he was prepared for his illumination by a long 
 and careful intellectual discipline. Naturally a close and stead¬ 
 fast thinker, he became, by study, one of the first mathematicians 
 in the world; and the effect of this exact and rigorous science 
 was to give clearness, precision, and accuracy to his reasoning 
 powers. And all this was for the end that he might use these 
 powers in understanding spiritual truth when it should be opened 
 for him. It was designed for this end, and it had this effect. 
 His eyes were opened, and he saw things of the spiritual world; 
 his ears were opened, and he heard its wisdom ; and because of 
 the thorough preparation of his wonderful mind, he understood 
 what he saw, and drew just inferences from the phenomena 
 around him, and grew in the wisdom of heaven while yet an in¬ 
 habitant of earth. Lastly, and most importantly, between the 
 state of Swedenborg when under illumination, and his normal, 
 natural, or common condition, there was no separation, no dis¬ 
 union, no impassable abyss. What he saw or learnt while under 
 spiritual illumination, made him wiser in his natural condition.* 
 It was for the purpose of becoming wiser in his natural condition, 
 that his eyes were opened, and his preternatural condition in¬ 
 duced; because it was in and through his natural and normal 
 faculties, and by his own laborious exertion of these faculties, 
 that the effect of his own growth in knowledge and wisdom was 
 to be produced upon the world. 
 
 “ But Swedenborg and Davis agree in this, that their knowl¬ 
 edge comes to them in ways which are not the common ways of 
 human nature. Just so far as this goes, there is an analogy be¬ 
 tween them ; but here is its precise limit; for if we go a step 
 
 * Judge Parsons wrote this criticism in January, 1847, at which time 
 my state, when magnetized, was precisely as described by him; but on 
 the 16th of May, 1847 (the same year), my two conditions became 
 blended, and still continues precisely analogous to that of Swedenborg. 
 
SWEDENBORG AND DAVIS. 
 
 99 
 
 further; if we look to see whether the ways are the same or 
 similar in the two men, we shall find, instead of resemblance or 
 analogy between them, the marks of difference, of contrast, of 
 opposition. ... In a few words, and to use an important 
 distinction, made by Swedenborg himself, it is not accurate to 
 say that the wisdom of the heavens came through Swedenborg 
 to the earth ; but that it came first to Swedenborg, and being 
 possessed by him, came forth from him, by his own act, done as 
 of himself. 
 
 “ We suppose nothing of this kind, and nothing at all like it is 
 true in the case of Davis, or of any mesmeric clairvoyant. There, 
 the rationality of the individual is silenced, superseded, sup¬ 
 pressed ; or, it is occupied and used by others; his freedom is 
 annihilated. In some cases, the hands and limbs move in obe¬ 
 dience to the will of another, and the tongue tastes, the eyes see, 
 the ears hear, and the nose smells, as if the soul of that other 
 was within them; and in other cases, the subject is invigorated 
 with a life not his own, his eye brightens, and his lips pour forth 
 the knowledge and thoughts of other minds, while the subject 
 himself has no more to do with all this than the air whose undu¬ 
 lations make the sounds he utters—no more than if he were 
 dead, and it were possible to reanimate his corpse, and make it 
 vocal by galvanism or magic. After a while this possession 
 passes away. The subject returns to his normal state; he is no 
 longer a subject in any sense, but free ; no longer another, but 
 himself. And then how is it? Every man who heard him 
 speak has somewhat of what he said when mesmerized; the 
 sense, if it were comprehensible, or the sound of the words at 
 all events in his memory; but the subject, or he who was the 
 subject and then poured forth this utterance, has of it all now, 
 now that he is himself nothing. What else, then, can we con¬ 
 clude, than that the state of Swedenborg is as opposite to tlio 
 state of a clairvoyant, as earnest of a high rationality is opposite 
 to its inaction ; as being one’s own is opposite to being another's, 
 as freedom itself is opposite to the absolute control of another; 
 as the full and rejoicing exercise of all that constitutes the free, 
 
100 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 rational, conscious individual, is opposite to its sleep, suspension, 
 or suppression?” 
 
 36. 
 
 MYSTERIOUS DEVELOPMENTS IN WESTERN NEW YORK. 
 
 W illiamsburgh, March 31, 1848. 
 
 About daylight this morning, a warm breathing 
 passed over my face, suddenly waking me from a pro¬ 
 found slumber; and I heard a voice, tender and yet 
 peculiarly strong, saying : “ Brother ! The good worJc 
 has begun — behold , a living demonstration is born /” 
 . . . . The breathing and the voice ceased imme¬ 
 
 diately, and I was left wondering what could be meant 
 by such a message.* 
 
 37. 
 
 REMARKABLE WARNINGS AND PROVIDENCES. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, May 4,1848. 
 
 A friend has sent me this extract from Jung 
 Stilling: The proof of the truth of the following 
 statement, taken from the Courrier de V Europe , rests 
 upon the fact that the whole occurrence is registered in 
 the judicial records of the criminal trials of the Prov¬ 
 ince of Languedoc. We give it as we heard it from 
 
 *Afteiward I learned that, at this time, spirit communication was 
 established at Hydesville, New York. 
 
WARNINGS AND PROVIDENCES. 
 
 101 
 
 the lips of the dreamer, as nearly as possible in his own 
 words. 
 
 As a junior partner in a commercial house at Lyons 
 I had been traveling for some time in the month of 
 June, 1761. I arrived at a town in Languedoc, where I 
 had never before been. I put up at a quiet inn in the 
 suburbs, and being very much fatigued, ordered dinner 
 at once, and went to bed almost immediately after, de¬ 
 termined to begin very early in the morning my visits 
 to the different merchants. 
 
 I was no sooner in bed than I fell into a deep sleep, 
 and had a dream that made the strongest impression 
 upon me. 
 
 I thought that I had arrived at the same town, but 
 in the middle of the day instead of the evening, as was 
 really the case—that I had stopped at the very same 
 inn, and gone out immediately as an unoccupied 
 stranger would do, to see whatever was worthy of ob¬ 
 servation in the place. I walked down the main street 
 into another street, crossing it at right angles, and ap¬ 
 parently leading into the country. I had not gone 
 very far when I came to a church, the Gothic portal of 
 which I stopped to examine. When I had satisfied my 
 curiosity, I advanced to a by-path which branched off 
 from the main street. Obeying an impulse which I 
 could neither account for nor control, I struck into this 
 path, though it was winding, rugged, and unfrequented, 
 and presently reached a miserable cottage, in front of 
 which was a garden covered with weeds. I had no 
 difficulty in getting into the garden, for the hedge had 
 several gaps in it wide enough to admit four carts 
 abreast. I approached an old well which stood, soli- 
 
102 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 tary and gloomy, in a distant corner, and looking down 
 into it I beheld distinctly, without any possibility of mis¬ 
 take, a corpse, which had been stabbed in several places. 
 I counted the deep wounds and the wide gashes whence 
 the blood was flowing. 
 
 I would have cried out ; but my tongue clove to the 
 roof of my mouth. At this moment I awoke with my 
 hair on end, trembling in every limb, and cold drops 
 of perspiration bedewing my forehead—awoke to find 
 myself comfortably in bed, my trunk standing beside 
 me; birds warbling cheerfully around the window; 
 whilst a young, clear voice was singing a provincial air 
 in the next room, and the morning sun was shining 
 bright!} 7 through the curtain. 
 
 I sprang from my bed, dressed myself, and as it was 
 yet very early I thought I would seek an appetite for 
 my breakfast by a morning walk. I went accordingly 
 into the street and strolled along. The further I went 
 the stronger became the confused recollection of the 
 objects that presented themselves to my view. “It is 
 very strange,” I thought, “ I have never been here be¬ 
 fore, and I could swear that I have seen this house and 
 the next, and that other on the left.” On I went 
 till I came to the corner of the street crossing the one 
 down which I had come. For the first time I remem¬ 
 bered my dream, but put away the thought as too ab¬ 
 surd, still, at every step I took, some fresh point of re¬ 
 semblance struck me. “ Am I still dreaming ?” I ex¬ 
 claimed, not without a momentary thrill through my 
 whole frame. “ Is the agreement to be perfect to the 
 very end ?” Before long I reached the church with the 
 same architectural features that had attracted my no- 
 
WARNINGS AND PROVIDENCES. 
 
 103 
 
 tice in the dream, and then the high road, along which 
 I pursued my way, coming at length to the same by¬ 
 path that had presented itself to my imagination a few 
 hours before—there was no possibility of doubt or mis¬ 
 take. Every tree, every turn, was familiar to me. I 
 was not at all of a superstitious turn; and was wholly 
 engrossed in the practical details of commercial busi¬ 
 ness. My mind had never dwelt upon the hallucina- 
 tions, the presentiments that science either denies or is 
 unable to explain, but I must confess that I now felt 
 myself spell-bound as by some enchantment—and, with 
 Pascal’s words on my lips —“ A continued dream would 
 be equal to reality,” I hurried forward, no longer 
 doubting that the next moment would bring me to the 
 cottage, and this really was the case. In all its outward 
 circumstances it corresponded to what I had seen in 
 my dream. Who then could wonder that I determined 
 to ascertain whether the coincidence would hold good 
 in every other point! I entered the garden and went 
 direct to the spot on which I had seen the well; but 
 here the resemblance failed—well there was none. I 
 looked in every direction, examined the whole garden, 
 went round the cottage, which appeared to be inhabit¬ 
 ed, although no person was visible, but nowhere could 
 I find any vestige of a well. 
 
 I made no attempt to enter the cottage, but hastened 
 back to the hotel in a state of agitation difficult to de¬ 
 scribe ; I could not make up my mind to pass unnoticed 
 such extraordinary coincidences—-but how was any clue 
 to be obtained to the terrible mystery % 
 
 I went to the landlord, and after chatting with him 
 for some time on different subjects, I came to the point 
 
104 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 and asked him directly to whom the cottage belonged 
 that was on a by-road which I described to him. 
 
 “ I wonder, sir,” said he, “ what made you take such 
 particular notice of such a wretched little hovel. It is 
 inhabited by an old man with his wife, who have the 
 character of being very morose and unsociable. They 
 rarely leave the house, see nobody, and nobody goes to 
 see them; but they are quiet enough, and I never 
 heard any thing against them beyond this. Of late, 
 their very existence seems to have been forgotten; and, 
 I believe, sir, that you are the first who, for years, has 
 turned your steps to the deserted spot.” 
 
 These details, far from satisfying my curiosity, did 
 but provoke it the more. Breakfast was served, but I 
 could not touch it, and I felt that if I presented myself 
 to the merchants in such a state of excitement, they 
 would think me mad; and, indeed I felt very much 
 excited. I paced up and down the room, looked out 
 at the window, trying to fix my attention on some ex¬ 
 ternal object; but in vain. I endeavored to interest 
 myself in a quarrel between two men in the street— 
 but the garden and the cottage pre-occupied my mind ; 
 and, at last, snatching my hat, I cried—“ I will go, come 
 what may.” 
 
 I repaired to the nearest magistrate, told him the ob¬ 
 ject of my visit, and related the whole circumstance 
 briefly and clearly. I saw directly that he was much 
 i mpressed by my statement. 
 
 “ It is indeed very strange,” said he, “ and after what 
 has happened, I do not think I am at liberty to leave the 
 matter without further inquiry. Important business 
 will prevent my accompanying yon in a search, but J 
 
WARNINGS AND PROVIDENCES. 105 
 
 will place two of the police at your command. Go 
 once more to the hovel, see its inhabitants, and search 
 every part of it. You may perhaps make some import¬ 
 ant discovery.” 
 
 I suffered but a very few moments to elapse before 1 
 was on my way, accompanied by the two officers, and 
 we soon reached the cottage. We knocked, and after 
 waiting some time an old man opened the door. IIo 
 received us somewhat uncivilly, but showed no mark of 
 suspicion, nor, indeed, of any other emotion when we 
 told him we wished to search the house. 
 
 “Very well, gentlemen, as fast and as soon as you 
 like,” was his reply. 
 
 “ Have you a well here ?” I inquired. 
 
 “ Ho, sir ; we are obliged to go for water to aspring 
 at a considerable distance.” 
 
 We searched the house, which I did, I confess, with 
 a kind of feverish excitement, expecting every moment 
 to bring some fatal secret to light. Meanwhile, the 
 man gazed upon us with an impenetrable vacancy of 
 look, and we at last left the cottage without seeing any¬ 
 thing that could confirm my suspicions. I resolved to 
 inspect the garden once more, and a number of idlers 
 having been by this time collected, drawn to the spot 
 by the sight of a stranger with two armed men engaged 
 in searching the prefnises, I made inquiries of some 
 of them whether they knew any thing about a well in 
 that place. I could get no information at first, but at 
 length an old woman came slowly forward, leaning 
 on a crutch. 
 
 “ A well!” cried she. “ Is it the well you are look¬ 
 ing after? That has been gone these thirty years. I 
 
 6 * 
 
106 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 remember it as if it was only yesterday, how, marry a 
 time, when I was a young girl I used to amuse myself 
 throwing stones into it, and hearing the splash they used 
 to make in the water.” 
 
 “ And could you tell where that well used to he ?” I 
 asked, almost breathless with excitement. 
 
 “ As near as I can remember; on the very spot on 
 which your honor is standing,” said the old woman. 
 
 “ I could have sworn it,” thought I, springing from 
 the place as if I had trod upon a scorpion. 
 
 Need I say that we set to work to dig up the ground. 
 At about eighteen inches deep we came to a layer of 
 bricks, which being broken up, gave to view some boards 
 which were easily removed, after which we beheld the 
 mouth of the well. 
 
 “I was quite sure it was here,” said the woman. 
 “ What a fool the old fellow was to stop it up, and then 
 have to go so far for water!” 
 
 A sounding-line furnished with hooks was now let 
 down into the well; the crowd pressing around us, and 
 breathlessly bending over the dark and fetid hole, the 
 secrets of which seemed hidden in impenetrable ob¬ 
 scurity. This was repeated several times, without any 
 result. At length, penetrating below the mud, the hooks 
 caught in an old chest, upon the top of which had been 
 thrown a great many large stones, and after much time 
 and effort, we succeeded in raising it to daylight. The 
 sides and lid were decayed and rotten ; it needed no 
 locksmith to open it, and we found within what I was 
 certain we should find, and which paralyzed with horror 
 all the spectators who had not my pre-convictions--we 
 found the remains of a human body. 
 
WARNINGS AND PROVIDENCES. 
 
 107 
 
 The police officers who had accompanied me, now 
 rushed into the house, and secured the person of the old 
 man. As to his wife—no one could, at first, tell what 
 had become of her; after some search, however, she was 
 found hidden behind a bundle of fagots. 
 
 By this time, nearly the whole town had gathered 
 around the spor, and now that this horrible fact had 
 come to light, everybody had some crime to tell of, 
 which had been laid to the charge of the old couple. 
 The people who predict after an event are numerous. 
 
 The old couple were brought before the proper author¬ 
 ities and privately and sepai’ately examined. The old 
 man persisted in his denial most pertinaciously, but his 
 wife at length confessed, that in concert with her hus¬ 
 band she had once, a very long time ago, murdered a 
 peddler whom they had met one night on the high road, 
 and who had been incautious enough to tell them of a 
 considerable sum of money which he had about him, 
 and whom, in consequence, they induced to pass the 
 night at their house. They had taken advantage of the 
 heavy sleep induced by fatigue, to strangle him, his body 
 had been put into the chest, the chest thrown into the 
 well and the well stopped up. 
 
 The peddler being from another country, his disappear¬ 
 ance occasioned no inquiry ; there was no witness of 
 the crime; and as its traces had been carefully concealed 
 from every eye, the two criminals had good reason to 
 believe themselves secure from detection. They had 
 not, however, been aide to silence the voice of conscience; 
 they fled from the sight of their fellow-men ; they 
 thought they beheld wherever they turned, mute ac¬ 
 cusers; they trembled at the slightest noise, ai.d silence 
 
10S 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 thrilled them with terror. They had uften formed a 
 determination to leave the scene of their crime, to fly to 
 some distant land, but still some undefinable fascina¬ 
 tion kept them near the remains of their victim. 
 
 Terrified by the deposition of his wife, and unable to 
 resist the overwhelming proofs against him, the man at 
 length made a similar confession, and, six weeks after, 
 the unhappy criminals died on the scaffold, in accord¬ 
 ance with the sentence of the Parliament of Toulouse. 
 They died penitent. 
 
 The well was once more shut up, and the cottage lev¬ 
 eled to the ground; it was not, however, until fifty 
 years had in some measure deadened the memory of the 
 terrible transaction, that the ground was cultivated. It 
 is now a fine field of corn. 
 
 Such was the dream and its result. 
 
 I never had the courage to revisit the town where I 
 had been an actor in such a tragedy. The story was 
 told again by me last winter in a company where it 
 gave rise to a long and animated discussion upon the 
 credibility to be attached to dreams. Ancient and 
 modern history was ransacked to find arguments on 
 both sides. Plutarch was quoted in what he says of a cer¬ 
 tain Lysimachus, grandson to Aristides, who embraced 
 the profession of interpreter of dreams, and realized 
 wealth by the trade—Cicero states that a dream of Ce¬ 
 cilia, daughter of Barbaricus, appeared to be of suffi¬ 
 cient importance to be a subject of a decree of the 
 Senate. One of the most indefatigable commentators 
 of the sixteenth century, Coelius Rhodizinus, when 
 laboring to correct the text of Pliny which he has 
 singularly obscured, was stopped by the word ectrapelis. 
 
RETURNING TO THE PULPIT. 
 
 JO) 
 
 In vain did he work at the meaning for a whole week— 
 he ended by falling asleep—and in a dream the solution 
 of the difficulty came into his head. It was during 
 sleep that Henricus Van Heeres, a Dutch writer, very 
 celebrated in his day, but very obscure in ours, composed 
 all his works; once awake, he had but to transcribe 
 from memory. 
 
 RETURNING TO THE PULPIT. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, May 9, 1848. 
 
 Yesterday’s mail brought me a kindly note from a 
 New York artist. He informs me that Brother Harris, 
 the brilliant preacher and poet, is already returning to 
 the pulpit. He says that the exercises on Sunday after 
 noon, in the Coliseum, were attended by a large and 
 highly intellectual audience. Among those present, 
 he noticed Rev. W. H. Channing, of Boston, Horace 
 Greeley, and Freeman Hunt, and many other eminent 
 citizens. The discourse was on the “ Religious Tenden¬ 
 cies of the Age.” Arrangements will be made during 
 the week for obtaining a hall in Broadway, and the poet 
 will preach at least once on every Sunday. It is be¬ 
 lieved that one of the largest and most intellectual 
 congregations in the city will speedily be gathered 
 
 around the inspiring minister.This news 
 
 does not surprise me, neither would it astonish me to 
 hear that Brother H. had renounced the sp ritual idea 
 of infinite progression, and returned to the bosom of 
 the endless punishment church. 
 
110 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 39. 
 
 IGREEMENT EETWEEN SWEDENBORG AND DAVIS. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, May 15, 1848. 
 
 My impression this beautiful morning is to call the 
 world’s attention to fundamental agreements between 
 the teachings of clairvoyance and those of Swedenborg. 
 Let his “ friends ” read the following :— 
 
 That the end of Creation is a Heaven out of 
 the Human Race. —That heaven consists only of such 
 as were born men, .... and as heaven does not consist 
 of any others, it follows that the end of creation is a heaven 
 out of the human race. But the same will be still more 
 manifestly seen from an explanation of the following 
 points: 1. That every man is created to live to eternity. 
 2. That every man is created to live to eternity in a 
 state of happiness. 3. That every man is created to go 
 to heaven. 4. That the divine Love can not do other¬ 
 wise than desire it, and that the divine Wisdom can not 
 do otherwise than provide for it. Since, from these 
 considerations it may also be seen that the Divine 
 Providence is no other predestination than to heaven, 
 and that it can not be changed into any other, it is here 
 to be demonstrated, in the order proposed, that the end 
 of creation is a heaven out of the human race.—D. P. 
 323, 324. 
 
FUNDAMENTAL AGREEMENTS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 That to suppose that those only are saved who 
 
 ARE BORN WITHIN THE CHURCH, IS AN INSANE HERESY.- 
 
 Those who are born without the Church are men, as 
 well as those who are born within it; they are of the 
 same heavenly origin, and are equally living and im¬ 
 mortal souls; they have a religion by which they 
 acknowledge that there is a God, and that they ought 
 to live well; and he that acknowledges that there is a 
 God, and lives well, becomes spiritual in his degree and 
 is saved. 
 
 That to suppose any of the Human Race are 
 Predestined to be Damned, is a cruel Heresy.— 
 For it is cruel to think that the Lord, who is Love 
 itself, and Mercy itself, would suffer so vast a multitude 
 of men to be born for hell, or that so many myriads of 
 myriads should be born condemned and devoted, that 
 is, born devils and Satans; and that he would not out 
 of his divine wisdom provide, that those who live well 
 and acknowledge a God, should not be cast into ever¬ 
 lasting fire and torment.He alone leads all, 
 
 and wills not the death of any one. Therefore it is 
 cruel to think and believe that so great a multitude of 
 nations and people under his auspices and inspection, 
 should be predestined to be delivered as a prey to the 
 devil.—D. P. 330. 
 
 That these are the Common Essence of all Reli¬ 
 gions by which every one is saved.— To acknowl¬ 
 edge a God, and not to do evil because it is against 
 God, are the two things by virtue of which religion is 
 religion. If one of them is wanting, it can not be called 
 religion ; for to acknowledge a God, and to do evil is 
 contradictory, as well as to do good and not ackn >wl- 
 
112 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 edge a God : one does not take place without the other 
 It is provided by the Lord that there is some religion 
 almost everywhere, and that in every religion there 
 are these two essentials.—D. P. 326. 
 
 40. 
 
 DUG’S STORY OF THE LIVES OF TWO BOYS. 
 
 Poughkeepsie, June 4,1848. 
 
 A curious circumstance occurred about two hours 
 ago. Passing a newspaper and periodical store on 
 Main street, idly musing as I went, all at once I heard 
 a tongue distinctly speak near my left ear :—“ Read 
 Dug's Yarn! Remember your promise ! Read Dug's 
 Story of the Two Boys /” Instantly, the incidents ot 
 the visit from the old sailor, last year, came back into 
 my mind. I entered the store. On looking and hand¬ 
 ling over the papers, a hot sensation from one attracted 
 my attention. I examined the paper, and found a part 
 of a story, by Douglas Jerrold, giving the history of 
 the lives of two boys, of whom one was born to wealth, 
 rank, education, respectability, and luxury ; the other 
 to famine, ignorance, shame, vice, and crime. “ St. 
 Giles,” has been tried for stealing the pony of “ St. 
 James,” and found guilty. It will be keeping mv 
 promise to read “ Dug’s Story,” of which the following 
 is the fragment:— 
 
 “ Guiltv—Death !” 
 
 What familiar syllables were these in the good old 
 times—the time of our history ! In those happier 
 
LIVES OF TWO BOYS. 
 
 113 
 
 days, how many goods and chattels, live stock and dead, 
 were protected, watched by Death ! Death was made 
 by law the guardian of all things. Prime agent, great 
 conservator of social security—grim keeper of the 
 world’s movables. Death, a shepherd, avenged the 
 wrongs of stolen mutton : Death stood behind every 
 counter, protector of chapman’s stock ; Death was the 
 day and the night guard of the highway traveler against 
 the highway thief; Death watched ox and ass; the 
 goose on the common, the hen on the roost. Even at 
 the altar, Deatli took his cautious stand, that Hymen 
 might not be scoffed, defrauded by wicked bigamist. 
 Turn where he would, the rogue’s path was dug with 
 graves. Nevertheless, the world grew no better ; made 
 no visible return to that happy state, ere hemp was 
 made a sovereign remedy for wrong. And so by de¬ 
 grees, Death lost somewhat of his reputation with the 
 members of the world; and by degrees many things 
 were taken out of his charge. It was found that — - 
 sheep were stolen—tradesmen’s goods lifted — pockets 
 picked—hen-roosts forced — and maids wickedly married 
 by men already bound — it was seen that these abomina¬ 
 tions continued and increased, ay, in the very face of 
 the great ghastly bugbear, Death, and so his watch and 
 ward were made a lighter task ; he was gradually re¬ 
 lieved of many of his social duties; the world, to the 
 astonishment of some folks, still spinning on its axis, 
 though the life of immortal man was not, as in the 
 good old times, offered to stolen colt, to the king’s 
 gracious face unlawfully stamped in counterfeit metal, 
 to a hundred other sins all made mortal by the wisdom 
 of untaught humanity. Truly, Justice, turning back 
 
114 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 the leaves of the jail calendar, might sit awhile in sack¬ 
 cloth and ashes, penitent for past transgressions—past 
 wrongs committed in her moral blindness 1 The sword 
 of justice ! An awful weapon, truly : a weapon work¬ 
 ing out the will of highest Providence : a solemn inter¬ 
 est which man solemnly acknowledges. This has been, 
 and may be. Yet, thinking of the world’s mistakes; 
 of the cruel blunders worked bylaw on man, the sword 
 of justice—of so-called Christian justice robed and 
 ermined—may sometimes seem to the eye of grieved 
 humanity as terrible as the blood-dripping tomahawk 
 of the wild, revengeful savage. The sword of justice! 
 May not the time come—it will come, as surely as the 
 sun of far-off years—when Justice shall lay down her 
 sword—when, with better wisdom, she shall vindicate 
 her awful mission to mankind, yet shed no drop of 
 blood! 
 
 Let us return to St. Giles ; to the boy in his fifteenth 
 year, spawned upon the world and reared by daily 
 wrong and ignorance, a morsel for the hangman. Now, 
 a condemned thief, palsied and aghast with terror, upon 
 the very threshold of the world ; to be flung therefrom, 
 an offering to the majesty of offended law. Grim ma¬ 
 jesty—ghastly Moloch ! Stately wickedness, with robes 
 dyed in the blood of sinning ignorance! A majesty 
 that the principle of all evil may too often smile upon 
 as its working genius here on earth. A majesty as cold 
 and pulseless as the idol whose wooden nostrils know 
 not the sacrifices its darkened worshipers prepare it. 
 But St. Giles will now know there is a government—a 
 knot of the wise and good, whose harmonious souls 
 combined make up the music of the State; the moral 
 
LIVES OF TWO BOYS. 
 
 115 
 
 melody that softens and refines the rugged, dull-eared 
 mass. He will now know this; the hangman will 
 teach it him. A sharp, short lesson ; the first and last 
 prepared him by a paternal State. 
 
 “ Guilty—death !” Such was the verdict. Tom 
 Blast breathed heavily, and a faint smile flickered at 
 his lips as he felt assured of his escape. Still, he durst 
 not turn his eye toward his boy-victim in the dock. 
 Conscience was at the felon’s heart; and seared, with¬ 
 ered as it was, it felt the sudden horror of remorse. His 
 features grew pale, then dark ; were for a moment con¬ 
 vulsed ; then instantly—daring no look at St. Giles — 
 he disappeared from the dock. The hoy stared about 
 him with a foolish gaze, and then began to sob. There 
 was no terror — no anguish in his face. It was the 
 grief of a boy doomed to a whipping, not the gibbet; 
 and it was such sorrow—such seeming childish ignor¬ 
 ance of the impending horror — that to those who looked 
 upon him made his condition more terrible. And then 
 again it seemed impossible that the sentence, so sonor¬ 
 ously uttered, should be carried out. Could it be that 
 such an array of judges — such wisdom, such learning, 
 sucli grave and reverend experience—should be op¬ 
 posed to a miserable child, of no more self-accountabil¬ 
 ity than a dog? Appalling odds ! Could it be thought 
 that the scene was a frightful reality of daily, breathing 
 life? Was it not a grim farce—a hideous foolish mock¬ 
 ery? Could the wise hearts of men—fathers of well- 
 taught, well-tended, happy children — doom that child 
 to death ? That miserable item of human ignorance — 
 that awful reproach to those who made laws to protect 
 property, but left the outcast poor a heedless prey to their 
 
116 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 own unbridled instincts ? Nevertheless, the law would 
 hang St. Giles; and grave, respectable, church going 
 men, in the very cosiness of their ignorance, would clasp 
 their hands, and raise their eyes, and pity and wonder 
 at the wickedness of the new generation. 
 
 And young St. Giles lay in Newgate, sinking, with¬ 
 ering, under sentence of death. After a time, he never 
 cried, or clamored; he shed no tear, breathed no sylla¬ 
 ble of despair; but, stunned, stupefied, seemed as if 
 idiocy was growing on him. The ordinary—a good, 
 zealous man—endeavored, by soothing, hopeful words, 
 to lead the prisoner, as the jail phrase has it, to a sense 
 of his condition. Never had St. Giles received such 
 teaching! Condemned to die, he for the first time 
 heard of the abounding love of Christianity—of the 
 goodness and affection due from man to man. The 
 story seemed odd to him ; strange, very strange; yet 
 he supposed it was all true. Nevertheless—he could 
 not dismiss the thought, it puzzled him. Why had he 
 never been taught all this before? And why should he be 
 punished, hanged, for doing wrong; when the good, 
 rich, fine people, who all of them love their neighbors 
 like themselves, had never taught him what was right ? 
 Was it possible that Christianity was such a beautiful 
 thing—and being so, was it possible that good, earnest, 
 kind-hearted Christians would kill him? 
 
 St. Giles had scarcely eight-and-forty hours to live. 
 It was almost Monday noon, when the ordinary— 
 having attended the other prisoners—entered the cell 
 of the boy thief. He had been separated, by the de¬ 
 sire of the minister, from his miserable companions, 
 that their evil example of hardihood—their reckless 
 
LIVES OF TWO BOYS. 
 
 117 
 
 bravado—might not wholly destroy the hope of grow¬ 
 ing truth within him. A turnkey attended St. Giles, 
 reading to him. And now the boy would raise his sul¬ 
 len eyes upon the man, as he read of promises of grace 
 and happiness eternal; and now his heart would heave 
 as though he was struggling with an inward agony that 
 seemed to suffocate him—and now a scornful, unbe¬ 
 lieving smile would play about his mouth—and he 
 would laugh with defying bitterness. And then he 
 would leer iu the face of the reader, as though he read 
 to him some fairy tale, some pretty story, to amuse and 
 gull him. Poor wretch ! Let the men who guide the 
 world—the large-brained politicians who tinker the 
 social scheme, making themselves the masters and 
 guardians of their fellow-men—let them look into this 
 Newgate dungeon ; let them contemplate this blighted 
 human bud; this child-felon, never taught the path of 
 right, and now to be hanged for his most sinful igno¬ 
 rance. What a wretched, sullen outcast! What a dark¬ 
 ened, loathsome thing! And now comes the clergyman— 
 the State divine, be it remembered—to tell him that he 
 is treasured with an immortal soul; that—with mercy 
 shed upon him—he will in a few hours be a creature 
 of glory before the throne of God ! Oh, politicians ! 
 Oh, rulers of the world ! Oh, law-making masters and 
 taskers of the common million, may not this cast-off 
 wretch, this human nuisance, be your accuser at the bar 
 of Heaven \ Egregious folly ! Impossible ! What — 
 stars and garters impeached by rags and tatters ! St. 
 James denounced by St. Giles! Impudent and ridic¬ 
 ulous ! Yet here, we say, comes the reverend priest— 
 the Christian preacher, with healing, honeyed words, 
 
118 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 whose Book— your Book — with angelic utterance, 
 says no less. Let us hear the clergyman and his for¬ 
 lorn pupil. 
 
 “ Well, my poor hoy,” said the ordinary, with an af¬ 
 fectionate voice and moistening eyes : “ well my child, 
 and how is it with you? Come, you are better ; you 
 look better; you have been listening to what your good 
 friend Robert here has been reading to you. And we 
 are all your friends, here. At least we all want to be. 
 Don’t you think so ?” 
 
 St. Giles slowly lifted his eyes toward the speaker. 
 He then slowly, sullenly, answered,—“ Ho, I don’t.” 
 
 “ But you ought to try to think so, my boy; it’s 
 wicked not to try,” said the ordinary, very tenderly. 
 
 “ If you’re all my friends, why do you keep me 
 here ?” said St. Giles. “ Friends! I never had no 
 friends.” 
 
 “ You must not say that; indeed, you must not. All 
 our care is to make you quiet and happy in this world, 
 that you may be happier in the world you’re going to. 
 You understand me, St. Giles? My poor, dear boy, 
 you understand me? The world you’re going to?” 
 The speaker, inured as he was to scenes of blasphemy, 
 of brute indifference, and remorseful agony, was deeply 
 touched by the forlorn condition of the boy ; who could 
 not, would not, understand a tenderness, the end of 
 which was to surrender him softened to the hangman. 
 “ You have thought, my dear—I say, you have thought 
 of the world ”—and the minister paused—“ the world 
 you are going to ?” 
 
 “ What’s the use of thinking about it ?” asked St. 
 Giles. “ I knows nothing of it.” 
 
LIVES OF TWO BOYS. 
 
 119 
 
 “ That, my boy, is because you are obstinate, and I 
 am sorry to say it, wicked,—and so won’t try to know 
 about it. Otherwise, if you would give all your heart 
 and soul to prayer-” 
 
 “ I tell } 7 ou, sir, I never was learnt to pray,” cried 
 St. Giles, moodily ; "and what’s the use of praying ?” 
 
 “ You would find it open your heart, St. Giles ; and 
 though you see nothing now, if you were only to pray 
 long and truly, you would find the darkness go away 
 from your eyes, and you’d see such bright and beauti 
 ful things about you, and you’d feel as light and 
 happy as if you had wings at your back—you would, 
 indeed. Then you’d feel that all we are doing for you 
 is for the best; then, my poor boy,” said the ordinary 
 with growing fervor, “ then you’d feel what Christian 
 love is.” 
 
 “ Eobert’s been reading to me about that,” said St. 
 Giles, “ but I can’t make it out nohow. He says that 
 Christian love means that we shouldn’t do to nobody 
 what we wouldn’t like nobody to do to ourselves.” 
 
 “ A good boy,” said the ordinary, “ that is the mean¬ 
 ing, though not the words. I’m glad you’ve so im¬ 
 proved.” 
 
 “ And for all that, yon tell me that I must think o’ 
 dying—think of another world and all that—think of 
 going to Tyburn, and, and ”—here the boy fell hoarse, 
 his face turned ash-color, and reeling, he was about to 
 fall, when the ordinary caught him in his arms, and 
 again placed him on a seat. “ It’s nothin’—nothin’— 
 nothin’ at all,” cried St. Giles, struggling with himself 
 —“ I’m all right; I’m game.” 
 
 “ Don’t say that, child ; I can’t hear you say that: 
 
120 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 I would rather see you in tears and pain than trying to 
 be game, as you call it. That, my boy, is only adding 
 crime to wickedness. Come, we were talking of Chris- 
 tian love,” said the ordinary. 
 
 “I knows nothin’ about it,” said St. Giles; “all I 
 know is this—it isn’t true; it can’t be true.” 
 
 “Tell me, why not! Come, let me hear all you’d 
 say,” urged the clergyman, tenderly, 
 
 “ ’Cause if it means that nobody should do to nobody 
 what nobody would like to have done to themselves, 
 why does any body keep me locked up here ? Why did 
 the judge say I was to be—you know, Mister?” 
 
 “ That was for doing wrong, my boy: that was for 
 your first want of Christian love. You were no Chris¬ 
 tian when you stole the hoi’se,” said the ordinary. 
 “Had the horse been yours, you would have felt 
 wronged and injured had it been stolen from you ? You 
 see that, eh, my boy ?” 
 
 “ Didn’t think o’ that,” said St. Giles, gloomily. 
 “ But I didn’t steal it: ’twas all along ’o Tom Blast; 
 and now he’s got off; and I’m here in the Jug. You 
 don’t call that justice, no how, do you? But I don’t 
 care; they can do what they like with me; I’ll be 
 game.” 
 
 “No, my dear boy, you must know better: you 
 must, indeed—you must give all your thoughts to pray¬ 
 er, and-” 
 
 “ It’s ’o no use, Mister ; I tell you I never was learnt 
 fo pray, and I don’t know how to go about it. More 
 than that, I feel somehow ashamed to it. And besides, 
 for all your talk, Mister, and you talk very kind to me, 
 I must say, I can’t feel like a Christian, as you call it,— 
 
LIVES OF TWO BOYS. 
 
 121 
 
 for I can’t see why Christians should want to kill me 
 if Christians are such good people as you talk about. 1 ’ 
 
 “ But then, my poor boy,” said the ordinary, “ though 
 young, you must remember, you’re an old sinner. 
 You’ve done much wickedness.” 
 
 “ I never done nothing but what I was taught; and 
 if you say—and Bob there’s been reading it to me— 
 that the true Christian forgives everybody—well, then, 
 in course, the judge and all the nobs are no Christians, 
 else wouldn’t they forgive me? Wouldn’t they like 
 it so, to teach me better, and not to kill me? But I 
 don’t mind; I’ll be game; see if I don’t be game— 
 precious !” 
 
 The ordinary, with a perplexed look sighed, deeply. 
 The sad condition of the boy, the horrid death await¬ 
 ing him, the natural shrewdness with which he com¬ 
 bated the arguments employed for his conversion, affect¬ 
 ed the worthy clergyman beyond all past experience. 
 “Miserable little wretch!” he thought, “ it will be worst 
 of murders, if he dies thus.” And then, again, he es¬ 
 sayed to soften the child felon, who seemed determined 
 to stand at issue with his spiritual counselor; to recede 
 no step, but to the gallows foot to defy him. It would be 
 his ambition, his glory—if he must die—to die game. 
 He had heard the praises bestowed upon such a death— 
 had known the contemptuous jeering flung upon the re¬ 
 pentant craven—and he would be the theme of eulogy 
 in Hog Lane —he would not be laughed, sneered at, for 
 “dying dunghill.” And this temper so grew and 
 strengthened in St. Giles, that, at length, the ordi¬ 
 nary, wearied and hopeless, left his forlorn charge, 
 promising soon to return, and hoping, in his own words, 
 
.122 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 to find the prisoner “ a kinder, better, and more Chris¬ 
 tian boy.” 
 
 “It’s no use your reading that stuff to me,” said St. 
 Giles, as the turnkey was about to resume his book. “I 
 don’t understand nothin’ of it; and it’s too late to 
 learn. But I say, can’t you tell us somethin’ of Tur¬ 
 pin and Jack Sheppard, eh? Something prime, to give 
 us pluck!” 
 
 “Come, come,” answered the man, “it’s no use going 
 on in this way. You must be quiet and listen to me; 
 it’s all for your good, I tell you; all for your good.” 
 
 “ My good ! Well that’s pretty gammon, that is. I 
 should like to know what can be for my good if I’m to 
 be hanged? Ha! ha! See if I don't kick my shoes 
 off 1 , that’s all.” And St. Giles would not listen ; but sat 
 on the stool, swinging his legs backward and forward, 
 and singing one of the melodies known in Hog Lane— 
 poor wretch! it had been a cradle melody to him— 
 whilst the turnkey vainly endeavored to soothe and in¬ 
 terest him. At length the man discontinued his hope¬ 
 less task; and, in sheer listlessness, leaning his back 
 against the wall, fell asleep. And now St. Giles was 
 left alone. And now, relieved of importunity, did he 
 forego the bravado that had supported him, and sol¬ 
 emnly think of his approaching end? Did he, with 
 none other but the eye of God, in that stone cell, upon 
 him—did he shrink and wither beneath the look; and, 
 on bended knees, with opened heart, and flowing, repent¬ 
 ant tears, did he pray for heaven’s compassion—God’s 
 sweet mercy ? Ho. Yet thoughts, deep, anxious thoughts 
 were brooding in his heart. His face grew older with 
 the meditation that shadowed it. All his being seemed 
 
LTVES OF TWO BOYS. 
 
 r 23 
 
 compressed, intensified in one idea. Gloomily, yet with 
 whetted eyes, he looked around his cell; and still darker 
 and darker grew his face. Could he break prison ? 
 Such was the question—the foolish, idle, yet flattering 
 question—that his soul put to itself. All his recollections 
 of the glory of Turpin and Sheppard crowded upon 
 him—and what greater glory would it be for him if he 
 could escape ! He, a boy, to do this ? He to be sung in 
 ballads—to be talked of, huzzaed, and held up for high 
 example, long after he should be dead—passed forever 
 from the world ? The proud thought glowed within 
 him—made his heart lieave—and his eyes sparkle. And 
 then he looked about his cell, and the utter hopeless¬ 
 ness of the thought fell upon him, withering his heart. 
 Yet again and again—although to be crushed with new 
 despair—he gazed about him, dreaming of liberty with¬ 
 out that wall of flint. And thus his waking hours 
 passed ; and thus, in the visions of the night, his spirit 
 busied itself in hopeful vanity. 
 
 The Tuesday morning came, and again the clergy¬ 
 man visited the prisoner. The boy looked paler, thin¬ 
 ner—no more. There was no softness in his eyes, no 
 appealing glance of hope; but a fixed and stubborn 
 look of inquiry. “ He didn’t know nothing of what the 
 parson had to say, and he didn’t want to be bothered. 
 It was all gammon!” These were the words of the 
 boy felon, then—such was the humanity of the law; 
 poor law! what a long nonage of discretion has it 
 passed!—then within a day’s span of the grave. 
 
 As the hour of death approached, the clergyman be¬ 
 came more assiduous, fervent, nay, passionate in his 
 appeals to the prisoner ; who still strengthened himself 
 
124 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 in opposition to his pastor. “ My dear boy—my poor child 
 —miserable, helpless creature !—the grave is open be¬ 
 fore you—the sky is opening above you ! Die without 
 repentance, and you w r ill pass into the grave, and never 
 —never know immortal blessings ! Your soul will per¬ 
 ish—perish, as I have told you—in fire, in fire eternal!” 
 
 St. Giles swayed his head to and fro, and with a 
 sneer, asked, “What's the good o’ all this ? Haven’t you 
 told me so, Mister, agin and agin ?” 
 
 The ordinary groaned almost in despair, yet still 
 renewed his task. “ The heavens, I tell you, are open¬ 
 ing for you : repent, my child ; repent, poor boy, and 
 you will be an immortal spirit, welcomed by millions 
 of angels.” 
 
 St. Giles looked with bitter incredulity at his spiritual 
 teacher. “ Well, if all that’s true,” he said, “ it isn’t so 
 hard to be hanged, arter all. But I don’t think the nobs 
 like me so well as to send me to sich a place as that.” 
 
 “Nay, mv poor boy,” said the ordinary, “you will 
 not, can not understand me, until you pray. Now, 
 kneel—my dear child, kneel, and let ns pray together.” 
 Saying this, the ordinary fell upon his knees; but St. 
 Giles, folding his arms, so placed himself as to take 
 firmer root of the ground ; and so he stood, with moody, 
 determined looks, whilst the clergyman—touched more 
 than was his wont—poured forth a passionate prayer 
 that the heart of the young sinner might be softened; 
 that it might be turned from stone into flesh, and be¬ 
 come a grateful sacrifice to the throne of God. And 
 whilst this prayer, in deep and solemn tones, rose from 
 the prison-cell, he for whom the prayer was formed 
 6eemed to grow harder, more obdurate, with every syl- 
 
LIVES OF TWO BOYS. 
 
 125 
 
 lable. Still lie refused to bend his knee at the suppli¬ 
 cation of the clergyman, but stood eying him with a 
 mingled look of incredulity, defiance, and contempt. 
 “ God help you—poor lost lamb!” cried the ordinary, as 
 he rose. 
 
 “ Now, I hope we shall have no more of that,” was 
 the only answer of St. Giles. 
 
 The ordinary was about to quit the cell, when the 
 door was opened, and the governor of the jail, attended 
 by the head turnkey, entered. “My dear sir, I am 
 glad to find you here,” said the governor to the ordi¬ 
 nary. “ I have a pleasing duty to perform ; a duty that 
 I know it will delight you to witness.” The ordinary 
 glanced at a paper held by the governor; his eyes 
 brightened; and clasping his hands, he fervently ut¬ 
 tered—“ Thank God!” 
 
 The governor then turned to St. Giles, who suddenly 
 looked anxious and restless. “ Prisoner,” he said, “ it 
 is my happiness to inform you that his gracious majesty 
 has been mercifully pleased to spare your life. You 
 will not suffer with the unfortunate men to-morrow. 
 You understand me, boy”—for St. Giles looked sud¬ 
 denly stupefied—“you understand me, that the good 
 king, whom you should ever pray for, has, in the hope 
 that you will turn from the wickedness of your ways, 
 determined to spare your life? You will be sent out 
 of the country; and time given you that, if you properly 
 use, will make you a good and honest man.” 
 
 St. Giles made no answer, but trembled violently 
 from head to foot. Then his face flushed red as flame, 
 and covering it with his hands, he fell upon his knees, 
 and the tears ran streaming through his fingers. “ Prav 
 
120 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 with me; pray for me!” he cried, in a broken voice to 
 the ordinary. 
 
 41 . 
 
 CLAIRVOYANT PERCEPTION OP JESUS. 
 
 Willi amsburgh, August 10, 1848. 
 
 Some instances of a miraculous knowledge in the 
 life of Jesus may remind us of the “ clear-and-long- 
 sightedness ” of persons in a magnetic state, or of those 
 in a similar condition. As Jesus saw Nathaniel under 
 the fig-tree, so magnetic persons see their physician, 
 their relatives, and sometimes even indifferent individu¬ 
 als, in distant houses and remote parts of the country ; 
 as he spoke to the woman of Samaria of her six hus¬ 
 bands, so magnetic somnambulists (adds Strauss) have 
 frequently read the most secret concerns in the hearts 
 of those with whom they were conversing ; and as he 
 knew in what part of the lake a quantity of fish had 
 crowded together, unnoticed by his disciples, though 
 they were experienced fishermen, so there are persons 
 who are able to tell where metals or bones are buried, 
 where water is concealed under thick layers of earth, 
 and some even, to whom the body of others is trans¬ 
 parent as it were, so that they can see its innermost 
 parts, and describe their condition or ailment, as the 
 case may be. 
 
IMPRESSIONS OF HORACE GREELEY. 
 
 127 
 
 43 . 
 
 .MPRESSIONS OP HORACE GREELEY. 
 
 Williamsburgh, October 18, 1848. 
 
 To-rui ventured into the presence of Mr. Horace 
 Greeley. My only object was to call his personal at¬ 
 tention to mv just published Chart of the “ History 
 and Destiny of the Race,” and to a>k him if he would 
 have the goodness to give it a little editorial notice, lie 
 was writing, when I entered, on a slanting board pro¬ 
 jecting from the wall, sitting uncomfortably in a very 
 old chair ; his right arm and hand on a level with his 
 shoulder ; his face almost touching the “ copy” and his 
 hand as he wrote. 1 coughed a little, and stepped 
 about the floor quite emphatically for a few moments, 
 and so got his attention. He leaned carelessly back in 
 his chair, turned his pure and honest face toward me, 
 squinted his eyes as if trying to see, and extended his 
 left hand with an air of supreme indifference, sig¬ 
 nifying as plainly as if spoken: “ Shake my hand if 
 you want to, but don’t bother me long.” Advancing 
 timidly, I shook his lazy-feeling left hand. At once I 
 showed him the Chart, and hoped he would have time 
 to look it over, and to give it a little notice in his 
 Tribune. He put his eyes close up to the sheet as I 
 held it unrolled before his face, and, seeing the caption : 
 
128 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 “Progressive History,” said, bluntly and decisively, 
 “ Don’t believe that! Society in New York is no bet¬ 
 ter than it was in the days of Charlemagne.” After 
 one or two more similar expressions, he said: “You 
 can leave it. I’ll look at it when I get time.” Accord¬ 
 ingly, I left the Chart in his editorial corner, and gladly 
 withdrew. 
 
 I came straight to this room, and these are my im¬ 
 pressions of Horace Greeley, to wit: Under pressure 
 and excitement, he is firm as a rock. Will not give up 
 a cherished idea; will do what seems right for him to 
 do, though the heavens fall; unless he is peculiarly ap¬ 
 proached by the magnetism, rather than by the reason¬ 
 ing, of gentle and trustworthy friends. His mind, on 
 one side, is hard as flint; on the other, his mental nature 
 is tender and sympathetic as a child. He is, therefore, 
 an inconsistency. His efforts and his prayers are bene¬ 
 volently for the millions. If aware, or if he imagines, 
 that a person or party is trying to control him, he is 
 immovable. His creed is, “ Give to all their natural 
 rights!” Clear in what he sees, and faithful to the 
 suggestions of his own flinty intelligence, he yet has 
 not the philosophical capacity to grasp the spiritual 
 springs within the growth of individuals and nations. 
 He distinctly sees that the earth-toiler was not meant 
 for a throne, or for despotic power, nor that it was 
 God’s intent that man should ever become a victim or 
 a criminal; but how to organize industry and exalt 
 labor, and especially how to overcome fraud in high 
 places, is too frequently beyond Mr. Greeley’s compre¬ 
 hension. Yet, his ruling principle is, to try every avail¬ 
 able and logical remedy that looks like a genuine refer- 
 
A DEAD BODY FOUND. 
 
 129 
 
 raation for the people; and through his life, as a stain 
 of ink seen in the beauty of a white garment, will ever 
 stream this palpable misapplication of remedies. . . . 
 
 A feeling possesses me this moment, amounting to a 
 kind of sadness, with respect to Mr. Greeley, namely: 
 His long devotion to journalism will be a loss to liter 
 ature; and what he has done, or may do, in politics, can 
 never be to mankind a sufficient compensation. When 
 I stood by his side, only two hours ago, I was conscious 
 of an access of intellectual strength. Ilis mind is 
 capable of large industry not only, but of gaining and 
 imparting the greatest fund of practical knowledge. A 
 hint, a single word, a suggestion, teaches Mr. (ireeley 
 many great lessons. There is, too, an undefinable ten¬ 
 derness of expression in the atmosphere of his face, so 
 to speak, which says to me: “ Behind the editor— 
 within the intellectual faculties, and beneath the moral 
 energies of this every-day man—there lives a genius, a 
 rare and beautiful mind, which could multiply itself 
 many times in poetry and literature.” But, alas! the 
 god of Utility, the practical Benjamin Franklinism of 
 turning every thing into account in this day, and in this 
 hour, has found in him a perpetual worshiper. 
 
 43. 
 
 A DEAD BODY FOUND BY CLAIRVOYANCE. 
 
 New York, December 6, 1848. 
 
 My attention has just been called to the following 
 account published in the Boston Ckronotype :— 
 
 6 * 
 
130 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 About the 20tk of February, 1846, a young man 
 named John S. Bruce, aged about 18 years, son of Mr. 
 Lewis Bruce, a respectable farmer in Westford, Mid¬ 
 dlesex County, Mass., started from his father’s residence 
 with a span of horses and a sled-load of straw, for the 
 purpose of selling the latter in this city. The distance 
 being only twenty-five miles, he was expected to return 
 the following day. Days, weeks, and months passed, 
 however, and no tidings were heard of him by his anx¬ 
 ious family, though diligent search and inquiry were 
 made—and his friends accordingly remained in a dis¬ 
 tressing quandary, whether it was possible he had left 
 for parts unknown or some fatal evil had befallen 
 him. 
 
 We will here mention an apparently trifling incident, 
 but one which resulted in furnishing the first clue to 
 information concerning young Bruce. 
 
 It appears that Mr. Otis Hildreth, a neighbor—who 
 subsequently removed from Westford to Salem, N. H., 
 —arranged with Bruce to take to Boston a small keg 
 to be filled with molasses for him—which, of course, 
 was never returned. Mr. Hildreth came to the city on 
 business in the succeeding month of July, and happen¬ 
 ing to call in at the office connected with the stable of 
 Edward Eastman, in Deacon Street, saw his keg there , 
 and identified it by several marks. On inquiry, he was 
 told that it had been left there during the winter 
 previous, together with a span of horses, which, after 
 being kept seventeen days without being called for, 
 were advertised by Eastman and sold at auction, and 
 that there was a balance of between five and six dollars 
 after deducting expenses, due the owner of the horses 
 
A DEAD BODY FOUND. 
 
 131 
 
 when he should make his appearance. From the ac¬ 
 counts given, Mr. Hildreth was satisfied that the horses 
 were those driven by young Bruce, but of the latter he 
 could gain no intelligence except a faint remembrance 
 that a person of singular description had been seen 
 around the stable sometime the previous winter. 
 
 Upon his return to Salem, Mr. Hildreth wrote to Mr. 
 Bruce at Westford, stating the above circumstances— 
 which very naturally excited in the mind of the father 
 a revival of hope that he might trace from them 
 some knowledge of his absent son. He accordingly 
 promised soon to come to Boston for the purpose of 
 making inquiries, but coidd learn nothing further than 
 that his son was last seen on the sidewalk near the 
 stable referred to. His name was also found recorded 
 on the hayweigher’s book, but another name was regis¬ 
 tered at the stable as the person by whom the horses 
 were left. 
 
 Some time after this, Mr. Bruce was induced bv the 
 solicitation of friends—though himself an unbeliever in 
 Mesmerism—to come to the city and employ the clair¬ 
 voyant power of Mrs. Freeman, in Lyman Place—a 
 practitioner somewhat celebrated for her success in 
 similar cases—in further inquiry respecting his son. 
 The clairvoyant made some startling developments, 
 which were repeated at subsequent examinations at¬ 
 tended both by Mr. Bruce and a daughter who resided 
 in Lowell; and from the investigations which they 
 were able to make, it was conclusive to them that 
 there was much truth in the statements, although, 
 from the nature of the case, it was difficult to ascer¬ 
 tain certain things thus revealed, or even to connect 
 
132 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 the several links of evidence so as to form a tolerably 
 complete chain. 
 
 The principal features of the clairvoyant’s revelations 
 —drawn out in fragments at different times—compris¬ 
 ed the known facts detailed above concerning young 
 Bruce’s journey to Boston, with the declarations that 
 shortly after his arrival he was induced by certain per¬ 
 sons to take something to drink, which threw him 
 into convulsions, of which he died—that his body 
 was concealed for some time under a manure heap, 
 but afterward taken by a colored man in the night 
 time, carried out upon the water and sunk in the 
 harbor—that it was subsequently discovered, and was 
 to be found in a certain tomb in the City burial- 
 ground on the Neck! The clairvoyant also stated 
 that the drug was administered to Bruce for the pur¬ 
 pose of obtaining money, &c., which he was supposed to 
 possess, and that a certain individual cognizant of these 
 transactions had since been dangerously ill, and came 
 near divulging them, &c., &c. 
 
 These representations so inflamed the curiosity of 
 Mr. Bruce and others to inspect the cemetery, that on 
 Tuesday afternoon last, accompanied by Mr. Franklin 
 Smith, one of the city undertakers, they proceeded 
 thither for an examination. Abiding by the minute 
 instructions he had received from the clairvoyant, Mr. 
 Bruce requested that Tomb No. 15 might be opened, 
 and if the remains of his son were not in the lowest 
 coffin in that tomb, he would be satisfied without 
 further search. Mr. Smith accordingly pulled down 
 some dozen or fifteen coffins, and on prying up the lid 
 of the lower one, mirabile dictu ! the father recognized 
 
A DEAD BODY FOUND. 
 
 133 
 
 the dress of his son within the coffin !•—he having been 
 entombed witli his clothes on, as is usual when bodies 
 are found in a decayed condition. Of the remains 
 nothing was left save a portion of the stomach, which 
 appeared to be in a singular state of preservation, some 
 locks of light auburn hair, and teeth, two of which 
 were also identified by the father from some peculiar 
 appearances. A wallet was also found about the cloth¬ 
 ing, which contained no money, but a few buttons, 
 needles and thread. A pocket-book which the deceased 
 brought with him to the city was not found. It was 
 evident he was buried under a false name, as his proper 
 name was not to be found on the Superintendent’s 
 books, and but one—a colored man—had been interred 
 as “ unknown.” 
 
 Mr. Bruce took from the coffin a piece of the panta¬ 
 loons, the vest, and the other articles described, and 
 returned home. As soon as it was seen, the clothing 
 was recognized by members of the family, and a store¬ 
 keeper identified the buttons, needles, and thread as 
 sold by him to young Bruce the day before he left 
 Westford. 
 
 The identity of the remains being thus clearly es¬ 
 tablished, the father, on application to Mr. Lincoln, 
 Superintendent of Burials, was granted a permit to re¬ 
 move them, and on Friday afternoon he conveyed them 
 home, stating that li e would have the stomach ana¬ 
 lyzed ; and thus this singularly myst erious case rests at 
 present. 
 
1 34 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 4 4 . 
 
 J G. 'WHITTIER’S ACCOUNT OF MESMERIC REVELATIONS. 
 
 Boston, May 7, 1849. 
 
 I had the pleasure to-day of seeing in a Cambridge 
 stage the plain-looking man who wrote “ The Reform¬ 
 er,” parts of which my old friend Ira Armstrong used 
 to quote with such enthusiasm. In Mr. Whittier’s 
 “ Stranger in Lowell,” p. 102, he says:— 
 
 It is too late now to regard mesmerism wholly as 
 charlatanry and imposture—to rank its phenomena with 
 the tricks of Cagliostro and Count St. Germain. Grant, 
 if you will, that the everlasting and ubiquitous quack 
 has taken advantage of it—that he has engrafted upon 
 its great fact the fictitious and shallow legerdemain of 
 common jugglery—still a Fact remains, attested by 
 unnumbered witnesses, which clashes with all our old 
 ideas and our habitual experience—which throws open 
 the door for “thick-coming fancies,” and interminable 
 speculations—a miracle made familiar—an impossibil¬ 
 ity realized—the old fable of transfusion of spirit made 
 actual—the mysterious trance of the Egyptian priest¬ 
 hood reproduced. This first fact in mesmerism dimly 
 reveals a new world of wonder—a faint light fall¬ 
 ing into the great shadow of the mystery which environs 
 us like an atmosphere of night. It affords us a vague 
 
j. g. whittiee’s account. 
 
 135 
 
 and dim perception of the nature of wliat we call Life; 
 it startles the Materialist with phenomena fearfully sug¬ 
 gestive of the conditions of a purely spiritual being. In 
 the language of another, when we plant our first foot¬ 
 fall upon the threshold of the portal to which this 
 astonishing discovery introduces, long and deep are 
 the reverberations which come forth from the yet 
 dark depths which lie beyond it. Having made this 
 first step, we are prepared to go “ sounding onward our 
 dim and perilous way,” passing from one wonder to 
 another, like the knight of the nursery tale, in the 
 Enchanted Castle— 
 
 “ His heart was strong, 
 
 While the strange light crept on the floor along.” 
 
 Without assenting in any respect to this theory, I have 
 been recently deeply interested in reading a paper from 
 a gentleman who has devoted much of his leisure, for 
 the last seven years, to a patient investigation of this 
 subject. He gives the particulars of a case which oc¬ 
 curred under his own observation. A young girl of 
 great purity of character, in a highly exalted state of 
 what is called clairvoyance, or animal electricity, was 
 willed by the magnetizer to the future world. In the 
 language of the narrator, “ The vision burst upon her. 
 Her whole countenance and form indicated at once that 
 a most surprising change had passed over her mind. 
 A solemn, pleasing, but deeply impressive expression 
 rested upon her features. She prophesied her own early 
 death; and when one of her young friends wept, she 
 said: ‘Do not weep for me; death is desirable, beauti¬ 
 ful ! I have seen the future, and myself there. O ! it 
 is beautiful, happy, and glorious!—and myself so beau 
 
136 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 tifill, liappy, and glorious! And it is not dying, only 
 changing places, states, and conditions, and feelings. 
 O ! how beautiful!—how blessed !’ She seemed to see 
 her mother, who was dead, and when asked to speak to 
 her, she replied: ‘ She will not speak ; I could not under¬ 
 stand her. They converse by willing, thinking, feeling, 
 without language.’ ” 
 
 All this may, in part, be accounted for on the theory 
 of cerebral excitement—the disturbed over-action of a 
 portion of the brain, or, to speak phrenologicallv, of the 
 “ religious organs.” Yet the mystery even then is but 
 'partially solved. Why in this state of exaltation and 
 preternatural mental activity should similar images 
 and thoughts present themselves to persons of widely 
 varied temperaments and beliefs, from the cold materi¬ 
 alist to the too ardent spiritualist; from the credulous 
 believer to the confirmed skeptic ? 
 
 For myself, I am not willing to reject at on^e every 
 thing which can not be explained in consistency with a 
 strictly material philosophy. Who knows the laws of 
 his own spiritual nature ? Who can determine the pre¬ 
 cise conditions of the mysterious union of soul and 
 body? It ill becomes us, in our ignorance and blind¬ 
 ness, to decide that whatever accords not with our five 
 senses, and our every day experience, is an impossibility. 
 There is a credulity of doubt which is more to be dej 
 recated than that of belief. 
 
SPIRITUAL APPEARANCES. 
 
 137 
 
 45 . 
 
 VISIT FROM JAMES VICTOR WILSON. 
 
 Boston, May 20, 1849. 
 
 With the exception of a brief call from his spirit in 
 December, 1847, this is the first I have heard and seen 
 ;tny thing of my dearly-beloved spirit-brother Wilson.* 
 liis personal affection is gentle, and there is an inde¬ 
 scribable illumination enveloping his face and figure, 
 lie is learning all he can concerning the life and 
 spheres beyond the grave. 
 
 46 . 
 
 PREMONITIONS AND SPIRITUAL APPEARANCES. 
 
 Boonton, N. J., October 10, 1849. 
 
 I record the following account by one in whom I 
 have entire confidence:— 
 
 My paternal grandfather was a man of that patri¬ 
 archal mould of character that combines great benevo¬ 
 lence and natural urbanity with a conscientiousness and 
 firmness which, but for these tempering principles, 
 would have been severe. He was not imaginative, and 
 he had also a large share both of moral and physical 
 * See further information in Gt. Har., vol. I, p. 176, t seq. 
 
138 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 courage. Hence Ins truthfulness was undoubted, and 
 he was neither liable to be easily frightened, nor imposed 
 on by any trick of fancy. 
 
 One summer evening, just before sunset, as he was 
 returning from the neighboring town, and riding leis¬ 
 urely and thoughtfully through his front yard, he 
 chanced to look into a garden adjoining, and there he 
 saw two of his daughters walking along the central 
 avenue, not side by side, but one following at a little 
 distance after the other. These girls were then sup¬ 
 posed to be sinking with the consumption, a malady 
 which had carried off several of the family. Fearing 
 they might take cold by exposure to the evening dew, 
 my grandfather called them byname, and desired them 
 to come directly into the house. Upon this they quick¬ 
 ened their pace; and passing through a gap in the wall, 
 that opened into a large peach-orchard beyond, they 
 disappeared from his view. There was a row of trees 
 standing along the wall between the garden and peach 
 orchard, and these, as well as the garden itself, were 
 covered by a luxuriant grape-vine, which in fact nearly 
 closed the passage, also, with the delicate tracery of its 
 young and tender branches; so that all beyond the 
 space where the figures seemed to enter, lay in deep 
 shadow. My grandfather thought this conduct very 
 strange; for he was accustomed to strict obedience and 
 respect from all the members of his family. Full of 
 anxiety, he hurried into the house, and proceeding 
 directly to my grandmother’s sitting-room, he earnestly 
 addressed her, in his accustomed manner:— 
 
 11 Mother, why do you let the girls stay out so late? 
 Don’t you think they will take cold ? ” 
 
SPIRITUAL APPEARANCES. 
 
 139 
 
 “ What girls ? ” she asked. 
 
 “ Why Susan and Hetty,” he replied. “ They are 
 walking in the garden, and in very thin white dresses.” 
 
 “What makes you talk so?” returned my grand¬ 
 mother; “they are not in the garden, and have not 
 been there for a long time. Nor are they dressed in 
 white. They are up stairs.” 
 
 “Why mother!” he responded, “I saw them with 
 my own eyes, and just as plainly as I see you at this 
 moment. They were walking in the garden; and 
 when I called to them to come in, they turned round 
 and looked at me; and then they went off into the 
 peach orchard, when I lost sight of them. I certainly 
 thought their conduct very strange.” 
 
 “ You must be mistaken, father. They have not 
 been down stairs for several hours. I will go and 
 speak to them, in order to convince you of your 
 mistake.” 
 
 As she spoke she stepped into the hall, and called the 
 girls to come down, when they immediately came, and 
 both of them in dark dresses. They looked very pale 
 and miserable; and my grandfather found it difficult 
 to conceal his secret anxiety on their account. But he 
 questioned them very closely, whether they had been 
 out walking, or had lately changed their dresses ; when 
 they both averred that they had not changed their 
 clothes since morning, or been in the garden during the 
 day. 
 
 In a very short time these girls fell a prey to the 
 disease which was then corroding their vitals ; and the 
 order of their death was that of the appearance and 
 disappearance of their forms as seen by my grandfather. 
 
HO 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 This story was often told in the family, as one of those 
 unaccountable events which were in those times, called 
 very strange, and wondered at—but never accounted for. 
 The character of the witness precluded all question of the 
 fact; but no one, in those days, ever dreamed that the oc¬ 
 currence might be explained on philosophical principles. 
 
 To the above account I will now add another, which 
 was related to me by a friend, who well knew the cir¬ 
 cumstances; for they occurred in her own family. My 
 narrator had an aunt, who was the wife of a sea-cap¬ 
 tain, residing, I think, in Bristol, R. I. One day. while 
 her husband was away at sea, as a little girl of six years 
 old, daughter of the above lady, was standing in a chair 
 by the window, suddenly her eyes were fixed, and her 
 whole person became rigid, as if she were about passing 
 into a fit, when she uttered a fearful screech, her whole 
 countenance wearing the expression of one who was 
 looking on some fearful and distressing scene. Her 
 mother, and other friends, hurried to her relief; and 
 inquiring what ailed her, strove to withdraw her from 
 the window. But she clung to the casement, begging 
 not to be taken away. In the mean time, redoubling 
 her screeches, she cried out in the intervals : “ Oh , my 
 father! he is drowning in the water !—he is drowning 
 in the water!” In this state she remained half an 
 hour : and during this time no effort could soothe 
 or pacify her; but afterwards she sank to sleep from 
 mere exhaustion. The circumstance was so remark¬ 
 able that the exact time of the paroxysm was noted 
 down; and when the next news from the ship ar¬ 
 rived, it was found that the father of the child had, 
 at the precise time of the attack, fallen overboard 
 
THE WORLD MOVES. 
 
 141 
 
 in a storm. For one half hour he was swimming after 
 the vessel; and those on board being unable to save him, 
 he was drowned. 
 
 The little girl who manifested this high degree of 
 natural clairvoyance, wa3 a very beautiful and preco¬ 
 cious child—one of those sweet angel natures that some¬ 
 times shine over the dark ground of life, a ray of peer¬ 
 less light, which is too soon absorbed by the heaven, 
 from whence it had stolen away. She died very early. 
 
 47. 
 
 THE WORLD MOVES.' 
 
 Hartford, March 6, 1850. 
 
 The managers of periodicals begin to acknowledge 
 the law of progression, at least in things temporal. It 
 is freely admitted that— 
 
 “ Philosophy, since it was directed to the attainment of a knowl¬ 
 edge of the properties and laws of matter, has already discovered 
 and performed so much, that the commonest necessaries of life 
 are now the production of the most complicated and wonderful 
 inventions: and tire condition of the humble peasant in point 
 of solid comfort and luxury, is superior to that of the wealthiest 
 noble three centuries ago; the conveniences and splendor of the 
 rich are such as the inonarchs of old never imagined even in 
 their wildest dreams, and the common and daily spectacles of life 
 are of such a character that would have startled our ancestors as 
 the work of supernatural agency. 
 
 . . . Let these magazine editors keep their eyes open, 
 and let them look far enough into the essential nature 
 of things, and they will as freely admit that the pro- 
 
142 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 gressive law operates with equal power and success in 
 realms spiritual and eternal. 
 
 48. 
 
 INJUSTICE TO SWEDENBORG. 
 
 Bridgeport, May 17, 1850. 
 
 On returning from Stratford to-day a gentleman, a 
 very ardent friend of Swedenborg’s, showed me a copy 
 of the London Athenaeum , which, in the course of a very 
 long and elaborate review of Davis’s Revelations, con¬ 
 tains the following: 
 
 “Time will roll on, and the revelations of Andrew Jackson 
 Davis will be put on their proper shelf, in that curious museum 
 which men call human nature. One man, we foresee, will be 
 treated with injustice—we mean Emanuel Swedenborg. Davis 
 and he will be classed together. Against this we protest. We 
 have read enough of Swedenborg to justify us to ourselves in de¬ 
 claring that we would rather believe his supernatural communi¬ 
 cations upon his own word, than Davis’s upon any possibly attain¬ 
 able amount of evidence.” 
 
 ... It seems to me that the “friends” of Sweden¬ 
 borg are the worst enemies that noble Seer ever had. 
 For example, recentty, one of his “ friends ” wrote this 
 curious sentence:— 
 
 “ No small proof of Swedenborg’s claims, is the fact that such 
 a person as Davis has arisen ; for history informs us that when a 
 new dispensation has been given, a counter one of evil has ap¬ 
 peared. ” 
 
 ... So long as the receivers of the doctrines of 
 
SOMETHING WOKTli REMEMBERING. 
 
 143 
 
 Swedenborg plant themselves upon such ground, they 
 need not expect to grow in love and wisdom, to say 
 nothing of “Charity” which is the brightest angel vir¬ 
 tue in the heaven of their Master. 
 
 49. 
 
 SOMETHING WORTH REMEMBERING. 
 
 New York, Hay 24 , 1850. 
 
 A young merchant, doing business in Cortlandt 
 Street, is very anxious to bring his neighbor to grief 
 through the law. He went to the “ rappings ” for in 
 struction, and to find out whether he would succeed. 
 The judicious spirits, much to my joy, would not “ rap ” 
 for him ! But a gentleman present told the young mer¬ 
 chant the following facts, which I think are well worth 
 remembering :— 
 
 “ A farmer cut down a tree, which stood so near the boundary 
 line of his farm that it was doubtful whether it belonged to him 
 or his neighbor. The neighbor, however, claimed the tree, and 
 prosecuted the man who cut it, for damages. The case was com¬ 
 mitted from court to court. Time was wasted, temper soured, 
 and temper lost; but the case was finally gained by the prose¬ 
 cutor. The last my friend knew of the transaction was, the man 
 who ‘gained the cause’ came to the lawyer’s office to execute a 
 deed of his whole farm, which he had been compelled to sell to 
 pay his costs! Then houseless, and homeless, he could thrust 
 his hand into his pocket, and triumphantly exclaim — ‘I’VE BEAT 
 HIM!”’ 
 
144: 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 50 . 
 
 MR. GEORGE RIPLEY, LITERARY EDITOR OF THE TRIBUNE 
 
 New York, June 8, 1850. 
 
 It was my good fortune to-day to meet, or rather to 
 see, Mr. Ripley, with two other gentlemen, investigating 
 the “phenomena” occurring through the magnetic 
 mediumship of the “ Fox Family,” now holding daily 
 sessions at Barnum’s Hotel, in Broadway. While the 
 rappings, like the clickings of Morse’s telegraph, are 
 spelling out messages in answer to questions put by 
 strangers gathered around the table, I am constrained 
 to take “ impressions ” of Mr. George Ripley ; but, hap¬ 
 pily for him, it is all going on in me without his knowl¬ 
 edge, and it sums up as follows :— 
 
 Here is a marked and thoughtful man—a conscien¬ 
 tious scholar ; possessing great sweetness of disposition ; 
 in full sympathy with the advanced thoughts of his 
 own generation, grasping with gloved hands the great 
 problems of social ethics, religion, and philosophy ; a 
 warm friend to all who sincerely work for humanity, 
 although he may regard them as vitally mistaken; in¬ 
 dependent of authorities ir matters of literature and 
 religion, and firmly advocating the principle that “un¬ 
 limited liberty of speculation ought to be universally 
 tolerated.” For some reason, unaccountable as yet, T 
 
VISIT FROM ANGEL WILSON. 
 
 145 
 
 can not but think that Spinoza, the great German 
 thinker of the seventeenth century, is Mr. Ripley’s true 
 intellectual counterpart and occasional guardian. I 
 seem to see Mr. Ripley writing the Ethica —or editing 
 and publishing some immense book, possibly the Trac- 
 latus Theologico Politicus of Spinoza—and I seem 
 further to see that he will be, unlike the great meta¬ 
 physician, fully appreciated by the people among whom 
 
 he labors.But, why is this gentleman such a 
 
 foreigner to me ? It seems that I can never talk with 
 him.He is to me a stranger 1 
 
 51. 
 
 ANOTHER VISIT FROM ANGEL WILSON. 
 
 Hartford, Conn., November 25, 1850. 
 
 To-day I am overflowing with an inexpressible grate¬ 
 ful joyousness. Through the solemn stillness, as comes 
 a serapli’s song from the stars, Brother \V ilson floated 
 down to me in this very house. lie is a wingless being, 
 as are all the inhabitants of the higher spheres, and yet 
 he soars aloft with air-pinions I can not discern. He 
 walked unheeded by others into this little room, and, 
 with beautiful human eyes and tender language, gave 
 me his second message.* 
 
 O 
 
 * This account was subsequently published in “Philosophy of Spiritual 
 Intercourse,” p. 151 
 
 7 
 
MEMORANDA 
 
 UG 
 
 5a. 
 
 FRANKLIN’S DISCOVERY OF THE RAPPING TELEGRAPH. 
 
 Hartford, January 6, 1851. 
 
 I have just written out a verbatim report of a com¬ 
 munication received this morning from the illustrious 
 American philosopher, Benjamin Franklin, whose great 
 personal influence yet lingers upon me, and seems to 
 All every object in the room with a profound presence.* 
 
 .I am physically weary, or sleepy, perhaps, and 
 
 so will not now write what I had in my mind. 
 
 53. 
 
 THE FACTS INCONTROVERTIBLE. 
 
 Hartford, February 9, 1851. 
 
 A distinguished professor in one of the New York 
 institutions of learning, has had the courage to make 
 the following acknowledgment in a lecture to his 
 class:— 
 
 “ If the circumstances in respect to Davis had occurred at a 
 distant period, then might they have been doubted'; but this is 
 
 * This communication was printed in “ Philosophy of Spiritual Inter 
 course,” p. 77, et seq. 
 
A DECEASED FRIEND. 
 
 147 
 
 not. the case, as they happened, as it were, but yesterday, and in 
 a city where, if any fraud had been practiced, it could not have 
 failed to have been detected ; for not only did the various inci¬ 
 dents have to bear the rigid scrutiny of its bitter opposers, but at 
 the same time the potent agency of money was invoked, and a 
 reward of five hundred dollars was offered to detect, if possible, 
 the so-called imposition. Though six months were allowed for 
 this purpose, yet it was in vain ; the proof was wanting, and to 
 
 this day the facts of the case remain incontrovertible. 
 
 After this, who will not have faith in the Galileo affirmation that 
 “ the world moves /” 
 
 A writer in the Quarterly Theological Review, ad¬ 
 verting to the great religious and governmental agitation 
 of the times, says: “The fountains of the great deep 
 have been broken up, and a deluge of information— 
 theological, scientific, and civil—is carrying all before 
 it, filling up the valleys and scaling the mountain-tops. 
 
 . A spirit of inquiry has gone forth, and sits 
 
 brooding on the mind of man.” 
 
 54. 
 
 TALK WITH A DECEASED FRIEND. 
 
 Hartford, October 19, 1851. 
 
 The following minutes of a conversation held with 
 the spirit of a departed friend, who left this mortal state 
 in June, 1849, is not published as any evidence of the 
 truth of the remarkable phenomena of alleged inter¬ 
 course with disembodied spirits. 
 
 The object of publishing the colloquy is simply to re¬ 
 fute the common assumption that nothing is ever com - 
 
148 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 municated from the spirit world by these new agencies 
 that is of the slightest importance. The responses, it is 
 said, are uniformly frivolous, useless, and uninteresting. 
 
 Here is a specimen, copied verbatim from notes 
 hastily taken down as the words were uttered by the 
 clairvoyant: The deceased, Mr. C., was a man of de¬ 
 cided intelligence, energy, and philanthropy, and these 
 responses are very like his manner of speaking while on 
 earth. But to the questions and answers :— 
 
 Question. Mr. C., had the human race a conscious 
 existence before we came on this earth ? 
 
 Answer. Soul-matter had an existence, but not a con¬ 
 scious existence. 
 
 Q. Are there any spirits which exert an evil or ma¬ 
 lignant influence on human actions and conditions ? 
 
 A. Yes: But not because they desire to do so, but 
 because of their inferior or gross organization. 
 
 Q. Are there are any human spirits which have 
 passed from earth which are not in a state of progress 
 or improvement ? 
 
 A. No: But some progress slowly, having a very 
 gross organization to begin with. 
 
 Q. Do you know Edgar A. Foe, the poet ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. In what sphere is he ? 
 
 A. I have a different classification from others. 
 
 [Question pressed.] 
 
 A. He is in [what 1 consider] the third society, 
 second sphere. 
 
 Q. Are there any spirits in a state of misery or pain, 
 so as to feel their existence a burden ? 
 
 A. There are some who have a mental suffering. 
 
A DECEASED FRIEND. 
 
 149 
 
 because they did not improve [or misused] their advan¬ 
 tage while on earth. 
 
 Q. Are there any so separated from their friends as 
 to cause them unhappiness—not being allowed the 
 society of those they love best ? 
 
 A. If they might [now] have been associated with 
 those friends by improving their advantages [when] on 
 earth, then they are unhappy. 
 
 Q. Are there any who despair of ever attaining the 
 condition of the blest? 
 
 A. They may at times, but not lastingly. 
 
 Q. Does the state in which Mr. C. now is seem more 
 immediately, palpably, under the Divine Government 
 than our condition ? 
 
 A. Its inhabitants see more clearly, as they have 
 progressed further. 
 
 Q. Are there any in that state who disbelieve the 
 existence of the Deity ? 
 
 A. They do not disbelieve it, but some do not com¬ 
 prehend it. 
 
 Q. Then the Deity is not visible from that sphere ? 
 
 A. He is nowhere visible. We receive impressions 
 from Him, but do not see Him. 
 
 Q. Are the Apostles and founders of Christianity 
 visible to Mr. C. ? 
 
 A. No : none who are in a higher sphere are visible 
 to those in a lower. 
 
 Q. Can those in a higher sphere communicate to 
 those in a lower ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. When Clairvoyants suppose they see Apostles, &c. 
 are they deceived ? or do they really see as they suppose < 
 
150 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 A. Many of tliem think they see the Apostle Paul, 
 or whoever else they wish to communicate with, when 
 
 they really do not. 
 
 Q. When a mother, who dearly loves her good child, 
 but who has lived unworthily, goes to the spirit world, 
 is she, or is she not, permitted to see her child before 
 she has attained his sphere ? 
 
 A. She does not see him, but receives impressions 
 from him. 
 
 Q. Does he see her ? 
 
 A. Yes; he communicates to her, and watches over 
 her. 
 
 Q. Have former generations passed away, so that 
 they can not be seen from Mr. C.’s present sphere? 
 
 A. Some have, and some have not. 
 
 Q. Could Mr. C. see Adam and the ancient patri¬ 
 archs ? 
 
 A. Ho. 
 
 Q. Is this new ability on our part to communicate 
 with the spirit world a consequence of any change or 
 improvement in the human family ? 
 
 A. Yes: The human race have become more re¬ 
 fined and susceptible [to impressions from the spirit 
 world] than formerly. 
 
 [It was here casually stated by some one present that 
 Mr. C. had stated, on a former occasion, that idiots 
 have no immortal existence. The present querist de¬ 
 murred to this, and asked] 
 
 Q. Do children who die in conscious infancy, live in 
 the future state ? 
 
 A. The moment an infant has been ushered into the 
 world, an individuality has been formed, which con- 
 
A DECEASED FRIEND. 
 
 151 
 
 tinues to exist, provided tlie physical constitution was 
 perfected— not otherwise. 
 
 Q. Then why do not animals also have an immortal 
 existence? 
 
 A. Man has a peculiar formation, which animals 
 have not. To all who have that formation, Soul ad¬ 
 heres—not to others. 
 
 Q. Can Mr. C. give us any idea of his present locality 
 in space—whether it is on any particular planet, or 
 around this earth ? 
 
 A. Human spirits love to hover around this earth, 
 but they are not confined to it. 
 
 Q. Do those born on the several planets usually re¬ 
 main each on that which was his birth-place? 
 
 [Answer not taken down, but believed to have been 
 affirmative.] 
 
 Q. Are the planets visible to Mr. C. ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 Q. Does Mr. C. see this outer, material earth ? 
 Does he see it as we do, with our material eyes ? 
 
 A. He perceives the earth as a highly material body. 
 
 [The above is all that we noted down, though a 
 few other questions were asked and answered, which 
 were not noted at the time. On another occasion, it 
 was stated, in reply to a question, that all created ex¬ 
 istences are first clothed in material bodies, passing 
 thence into purer and more spiritual forms, and that 
 the inhabitants of the higher planets, like Saturn, pass 
 through a change from the material to the purely 
 spiritual state equivalent to our Death, but one unat¬ 
 tended by pain, and which is desired, not dreaded.] 
 
152 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 55. 
 
 THE NEW ENGLAND RELIGIOUS HERALD DENOUNCES 
 THE SUPERIOR CONDITION. 
 
 Hartford, October 20, 1851. 
 
 In the Hew England Religious Herald of this week 
 is to be found a somewhat lengthy review of what it 
 calls “ superior illumination.” The writer strikes out 
 quite energetically, and makes several vigorous com¬ 
 ments upon “ Hature’s Divine Revelations.” The 
 whole matter, in the reviewer’s opinion, is summed up 
 and logically disposed of, by stating that the “ superior 
 state” is very inferior , “compared with that of vigor¬ 
 ous health and activity of the bodily powers.” This 
 opinion may be confidently entertained by all who have 
 not studied the principles and phenomena of the hu¬ 
 man mind; but by the enlightened psychologist and 
 metaphysician a vastly different opinion is obtained 
 and cherished. 
 
 The reviewer says : “ In all ages of the world, those 
 persons who have claimed these remarkable powers of 
 looking into the future, reading destiny, and seeing 
 things afar off, have been almost entirely persons of 
 inferior mental power , connected with low tribes of 
 gypsies and vagrants , and having almost no knowledge 
 of the best truths of being.” How history records a 
 
THE SUPERIOR CONDITION. 
 
 153 
 
 different verdict, and the writer of the article in ques¬ 
 tion should have known it. Thucidydes, in speaking 
 of Themistocles, (see Dasmonologia, page 128,) says: 
 “ By a species of sagacity peculiarly his own, for which 
 he was in no degree indebted to early education or after 
 study, he was supereminently happy in forming a cor¬ 
 rect judgment in matters that admitted but little time 
 for deliberation; surpassing, at the same time, all his 
 common deductions of the future from, the past." 
 Tacitus foresaw the dire calamities which desolated 
 Europe on the downfall of the Roman Empire, and 
 predicted them in a work 500 years before they came 
 to pass. Bishop Williams, in the time of Charles the 
 First, could “see things afar off,” and predicted the 
 ultimate success of the Puritanic party; and so certain 
 was he, that, when success was scarcely believed by 
 any one beside himself, he abandoned the Government 
 and joined the obscure party. (See Rush worth, vol. I, 
 page 420.) Solon, the great Athenian, could “ look 
 into the future, and read destiny,” &c. When con¬ 
 templating on the port and citadel of Munychia, he 
 exclaimed, “ Oh, how blind is man to futurity ! Could 
 the Athenians see what, mischief they will do , they 
 would even eat it with their own teeth to get rid of it.” 
 The dreams or previsions of Joseph, Pharaoh, and 
 Nebuchadnezzar, the records of which there seems no 
 reason to dispute, can scarcely be considered as the 
 subjective fancies of their own minds , considering 
 their remarkable fulfillment. 
 
 In the same article the writer says: “Fancy a world 
 of noble beings .... with tongues lolling out of 
 their mouths, their muscles rigid, their faces clothed in 
 
 7 * 
 
J 54 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 the pallor of death, and they all dreaming out glorious 
 
 visions and gewgaw vagaries, &c.Say! 
 
 would it not rather be a race of fools ? ” Let me ask, 
 how will the reviewer explain the mental conditions of 
 Ezekiel and Daniel ? These prophets, who could see 
 “into the future, read destiny,” &c., described their 
 condition as something similar to what is now-a-days 
 denominated “the mesmeric state,” and their mental 
 state as analogous to the “ superior condition.” Ezekiel 
 generally prefaces his “ visions” by such expressions as, 
 “ The Heavens were opened,” or, “ The hand of the 
 Lord was upon me.” (See Ezek. i. 1-3.) Daniel, too, 
 could enter this half-dying or superior state, and see 
 spiritual things. He was generally, according to his 
 own affirmations, in a deep sleep, while obtaining his 
 impressions of interior and truthful realities. (See chap, 
 x. v. 7.) “And I, Daniel, alone saw the vision . . . 
 and there remained no strength in me, for my comeli¬ 
 ness was turned in me into corruption, and I retained 
 no strength. Yet I heard the voice of the words; and 
 when I heard the voice of the words, then I was in a 
 deep sleep on my face, and my face toward the 
 ground .” In the phraseology of our day, this “ deep 
 sleep ” which fell upon Daniel would be called the 
 “ magnetic condition,” allowing the mind an oppor¬ 
 tunity to exercise its higher powers. But the reviewer, 
 doubtless, would consider Daniel’s state very inferior , 
 “ compared with that of vigorous health and activity 
 of the bodily powers.” 
 
 A new field of investigation is thrown open by the 
 magnetic marvels of this era, which all intelligent 
 minds should be willing to explore; and may we not 
 
DOCTOR JOHN F. GRAY. 
 
 155 
 
 expect from the writer in the Religious Herald some¬ 
 thing more relative to the question of the inferior and 
 “superior” conditions? The effort may introduce his 
 mind into new regions of thought, and his condition 
 may thereby experience an improvement. He should 
 remember that the same identical methods of explain¬ 
 ing away the trance state, will equally and as forcibly 
 apply to the solution of all “dreaming,” “visions,” 
 “prophecies,” and other psychological phenomena re¬ 
 corded on the pages of profane and ecclesiastical his¬ 
 tory. 
 
 56. 
 
 DOCTOR JOHN F. GRAY, OF NEW YORK. 
 
 Hartford, Oct. 26, 1851. 
 
 Yesterday, having business in Hew York, I called 
 upon the justly celebrated homeopathic physician, Dr. 
 J. F. Gray, and found him in his office, opposite the 
 Astor Library, in Lafayette Place. ... Of him my 
 impressions are: A searcher and perceiver of subtile 
 and occult truths; sees tine shadings in the panorama 
 of truth; appreciates the spiritual in the natural; knows 
 more by intuition than by reasoning, but can think 
 logically and profoundly; loves the Greek and Latin 
 and German coverings of thought; is a foreigner to 
 me, and keeps me at a long distance from him, as much 
 as to say, “Hot too familiar, if you please.” He is a 
 medium for the intellectual and intuitive perception of 
 truth. Some remarks were as follows:—- 
 
156 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 He said, that I, by being magnetized, entered the spiritual 
 legitimately. Everybody, he thought, should be magnetized, if 
 they would scientifically approach the inner life. Substantially 
 he said, that “ there is one truth which mesmerism teaches, 
 without which it would be difficult, if not impossible, for many 
 to receive the Scripture doctrine concerning the ministration of 
 spirits, and of their intercourse with this world.* . . . The 
 
 mesmeric phenomena prove that such intercourse is quite pos¬ 
 sible; for in the experiments which have been made, it is shown 
 that one’s mind, while on this earth, can be put into such a state 
 of quiescence, as to be completely under the control of another. 
 Thus, it has been repeatedly exhibited, that a subject can be so 
 acted upon as to think what the magnetizer thinks; to see what 
 the operator beholds, even though his eyes are bandaged; to 
 taste what the other partakes or appears to take; and so far has 
 the transfer been made, that if the operator was pricked with a 
 pin, the subject instantaneously felt the pain, and precisely as if 
 it had been in his own body. In these experiments and others 
 of like nature, it is exhibited that the magnetizer’s mind or spirit 
 is connected and forms one with the mind of the subject—so 
 much so, that it would appear that the subject’s intellect had 
 disappeared, and the magnetizer acted upon and put in ac¬ 
 tion a lifeless body. Now if this is so, if it is true that one 
 man’s spirit can possess another, so that the subject’s own con¬ 
 sciousness is destroyed, and he at the time thinks and fully be¬ 
 lieves that he is acting from himself, then it is evident that it is 
 possible for spirits from the hidden world to act upon mankind 
 in the same manner.” 
 
 * Dr. Gray was, at the time of the author’s first visit, a reader and 
 receiver of Swedenborg. 
 
CHEEKING PROPHECY. 
 
 157 
 
 57. 
 
 CHEERING PROPHECY BY A SPIRIT, 
 
 High Rock Tower, Lynn, U ass., October 22, 1852. 
 
 A kind friend writes that at a meeting of a circle in 
 Williamsburg a few evenings since, Mr.B— having been 
 carried into the magnetic state delivered the following 
 prophecy dictated by a spiritual intelligence :— 
 
 “ Brethren ; be of good cheer. The stone is not yet rolled from 
 the sepulcher. There are many truths which will yet descend on 
 the wings of angelic love, and there are many voices which will 
 be heard above the din and strife of earth. A mighty spiritual 
 flood will yet sweep over the bosom of the human world ; a 
 heavenly power shall descend, in whose presence the tongue of 
 slander shall cease its whisperings, and the pen shall write no 
 longer the things which are not true. Then shall the press be 
 turned into a mountain of light, within whose glowing beauty the 
 truths of angels shall find a dwelling-place. The theologian 
 whose interest has been to reveal a smoking pit, will preach a 
 new doctrine; and the physician that seeks for gain will heal for 
 gold no longer, when spirits act as physicians to the diseased body. 
 Behold the star of righteousness is arising, and the truly wise men 
 t f earth will go forth to welcome it.” 
 
158 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 58. 
 
 BENJAMIN F. WADE AND JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS, MEM¬ 
 BERS OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Jefferson, Astrabula Co., 0., November 30, 1852. 
 
 My engagement to give a lecture in this place brought 
 me here just in time to shake hands with the Hon. B. 
 Wade, who, accompanied by his affable and intelligent 
 wife, is on the point of leaving for the Capitol at Wash¬ 
 ington. I had less than ten minutes chat with him and 
 his lady ; yet, of him, I carry away these impressions: 
 A solid, strong, stormy, positive intellect. Is not selfish, 
 but is self-reliant. Perceives quickly, reasons much 
 (for reason is his guiding principle), and decides and 
 stands! Has much benevolence ; worships justice and 
 reality ; entertains feelings of universal good-will; but 
 can despise what displeases him with unflinching firm¬ 
 ness and frankness. Enjoys domestic comforts ; loves 
 children, friends, and household pets ; is orderly, stu¬ 
 dious, industrious, a'nd punctual ; enjoys simple music and 
 instructive amusements ; hates pretensions and shams 
 with a perfect hate ; and would make “ his mark ” in any 
 public or private position. . . . God speed him! 
 
 Of Hon. J. R. Giddings, in whose house I am now 
 visiting and writing, I think: He is not a sectarian, 
 and he can not be one, for his intellect is broad, and his 
 
R. I\ AMBLER AND S. J. FINNEY. 
 
 159 
 
 ideas extend far beyond the age in which he lives. He 
 possesses the true principles of liberty, and must manifest 
 them throughout his public life. Freedom of thought 
 and freedom of speech, must be his motto. Possessing 
 strength of character and purpose, he is naturally firm 
 and decisive in his actions ; although an appeal to his 
 sympathies would affect him, even to vascillation and 
 weakness. He is conscientious, and is governed much 
 by intuitive perceptions of right. When surrounded by 
 opposition his character is most fully displayed. He is 
 not attractive in either his appearance or conversation : 
 yet, nevertheless, when aroused by what deeply stirs his 
 ruling thoughts and noblest feelings, there are few men 
 who have a more manly deportment, or a larger personal 
 
 influence for good.In his family I find 
 
 education, pleasing manners, and a welcome that is 
 manna upon my heart. 
 
 59. 
 
 R. P. AMBLER AND S. J. FINNEY IN HARTFORD. 
 
 Cleveland, O., December 23, 1852 
 
 So we change places.I have been long 
 
 laboring in Hartford. How, for the first time, I ven¬ 
 ture far out into the field. As I look back in thought 
 to the friends in that old Hew England city, I seem to 
 realize how the timid ones shrink from the terrific storm 
 from the lips of our young Brother Finney, the impetu¬ 
 ous torrent of whose fiery invective, flashing against the 
 errors and prejudices of Theology, with the fearful light- 
 
160 
 
 MhMOKANDA. 
 
 nings of justice and truth, is sufficient to alarm all heed 
 ful citizens. Happily, I hear, that Brother Ambler ii 
 speaking to the same audiences. His milder presenta¬ 
 tion, although lacking in both the qualities of force and 
 depth, will, nevertheless, beautifully calm the troubled 
 waters. 
 
 . . . . This morning a letter comes, printed in 
 
 the “ Spirit Messenger,” dated Hartford, Ct., December 
 8th, only two weeks ago, in which I read :— 
 
 Mr. Finney and myself have delivered several lec¬ 
 tures in this city, which have been exceedingly well at¬ 
 tended. Thus far our lectures have been devoted 
 chiefly to the pulling down of strongholds, and the dis¬ 
 pelling of theological darkness from ‘the minds of the 
 people. It is clearly seen by spirits that the time has 
 now come, when an open and fearless exposure of myth¬ 
 ological errors is essential to the reformation which they 
 are seeking to accomplish. Hence they will cause the 
 mediums whom they control to speak plainly on theo¬ 
 logical questions. The ground which has been falsely 
 deemed too sacred for mortal feet to tread shall be ex¬ 
 amined by the light of Reason ; and the creeds and 
 dogmas which are unable to endure the light shall be 
 dissolved thereby, and sink back into their native dark¬ 
 ness. There is no compromise to be made with error. 
 The sun does not fear to rise when night has thrown 
 her mantle on the earth; but its rising dispels the 
 shadowy gloom and reflects the smile of God. 
 
 Through the mediumship of Mr. Finney, the spirits 
 have made a bold attack on the errors of the Church, 
 and have even gone so far as to invite the clergy of this 
 city to a public investigation of theological and spiritual 
 
R. P. AMBLER AND S. J. FINNEY. 
 
 161 
 
 subjects. To timid and shrinking minds, this course 
 might seem to indicate a want of earthly policy and a 
 lack of just discrimination and judgment. But on 
 careful reflection it will be seen by all true harmonial 
 philosophers that the world has been deceived and dark¬ 
 ened long enough by doctrines whose very tendency is 
 to absorb the life of the soul, and that if truth has been 
 revealed from the Heavenly Sphere which will bless 
 humanity, this truth should be spoken—freely, boldly, 
 and fearlessly spoken—even though it should be opposed 
 to the sensitive prejudices of the blinded mind. I be¬ 
 lieve with Mr. Davis that ‘ we need more independence 
 of souland I rejoice to know that he, with others, 
 has been sufficiently independent to manifest the free¬ 
 dom which the truth imparts. In a recent lecture by 
 the seer,* entitled “What will the people say?” he 
 takes the bold and truthful position that, “ From the 
 New Testament alone you may find the entire vocabu¬ 
 lary of the profane man.” Of course, in this expres¬ 
 sion Mr. Davis does not implicate the original writers 
 of the New Testament, but simply refers to the expres¬ 
 sions in this book as they now stand before the world 
 and are uttered from the pulpit, and, in doing so, ex¬ 
 poses to the public view a significant and notable fact. 
 How true and forcible is the following sentiment 
 “ The village pastor talks about the devil and hell; 
 shows how and upon what rigid laws of retributive jus¬ 
 tice God will damn the souls of certain persons; and 
 so the child and the thoughtless man learn to employ 
 the same terms and epithets, in the same emphatic, God- 
 
 * The lecture here referred to was published in The 1 'armonial Yin, 
 p. 115, ct seq. 
 
162 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 like manner as the minister of the Gospel.” In the 
 light of this truth does it not become evident that to 
 prevent profanity in the streets, we must first stop the 
 use of the same expressions in the pulpit ? And how 
 shall this be accomplished without an open and fearless 
 exposure of the wrong ? 
 
 My friends may, perhaps, be pleased to know that in 
 my public lectures I speak entirely under the control of 
 an unseen Intelligence, usually not knowing even the 
 subject on which I am to speak previous to my appear¬ 
 ance before the audience. 
 
 Thine as ever, R. P. Ambler. 
 
 6 . 
 
 SPIRIT VOICE HEARD BY A FERRYMAN. 
 
 Cincinnati, 0., January 8, 1863. 
 
 A gentleman of this city, an artist con amore , and a 
 banker of large wealth, has just brought me a remark¬ 
 able tale of circumstantial evidence. It seems that a 
 farmer in one of the western counties of England was 
 met by a man whom he had formerly employed, and 
 who again asked for work. The farmer (rather with a 
 view to be relieved from his importunity than with any 
 intention of assisting him) told him he would think of 
 it, and send word to the place where the man told him 
 he should be found. Time passed on, and the farmer 
 entirely forgot his promise. One night, however, he 
 suddenly started from his sleep, and, awaking his wife, 
 said he felt a strong impulse to set off immediately to 
 
SPIRIT VOICE HEARD. 
 
 16? 
 
 The county town, some 30 or 40 miles distant, but why 
 he had not the least idea. He endeavored to shake off 
 the impression and went to sleep again, but awoke a 
 second time with such a strong conviction that he must 
 start that instant, that he directly rose, saddled his 
 horse, and set off. On his road he had to cross a ferry, 
 which he could only do at one hour of the night, when 
 the mail was carried over. He was almost certain that 
 he should be too late, but nevertheless rode on, and 
 when he came to the ferry, greatly to his surprise, found 
 that though the mail had passed over a short time pre¬ 
 viously, the ferryman was still waiting. On his ex¬ 
 pressing his astonishment, the boatman replied : u Oh, 
 when I was on the other side I heard you shouting, 
 and so came back again.” The farmer said he had not 
 shouted ; but the other repeated his assertion that he 
 had distinctly heard him call. Having crossed over, 
 the farmer pursued his journey, and arrived at the 
 county town the next morning. But now that he had 
 come there, he had not the slightest notion of any busi¬ 
 ness to be transacted, and so amused himself by saunt¬ 
 ering about the place, and at length entered the court 
 where the assizes were being held. The prisoner at the 
 bar had just been, to all appearance, proved clearly 
 guilty, by circumstantial evidence, of murder; and he 
 was then asked if he had any witnesses to call in his 
 behalf. He replied that he had no friends there, but 
 looking around the court amongst the spectators, he 
 recognized the farmer, who almost immediately recog¬ 
 nized in him the man who had applied to him for work ; 
 the farmer was instantly summoned to the witness-box, 
 and his evidence proved, beyond the possibility of a 
 
164 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 doubt, that at the very hour the prisoner was accused 
 of committing murder in one part of the county, he 
 was applying for work in another. The prisoner was, 
 of course, acquitted, and the farmer found that, urged 
 on by an uncontrollable impulse which he could neither 
 explain nor account for, he had, indeed, taken his mid¬ 
 night journey to some purpose, notwithstanding it had 
 appeared so unreasonable and causeless. “ This is the 
 Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.” 
 
 Is it a mere idle imagination to suppose that the spirit 
 of some departed friend should have perceived the ex¬ 
 treme danger of the poor laborer, and also the only 
 means by which his innocence could have been estab¬ 
 lished ; and, hurrying on the wings of love to the sleep¬ 
 ing farmer, suggested a journey to the scene of interest 
 and danger, reiterating the impression with a dictate 
 of imperative authority ? This must have been so—and 
 what songs of joy rang through the echoing aisles of 
 Heaven, at the redemption of the innocent from the 
 bondage of a cruel and unrighteous law ! 
 
 61 . 
 
 A PHRENOLOGICAL DESCRIPTI ON BY A BLIND PROFESSOR. 
 
 Cincinnati, 0., January 12, 1853. 
 
 The accompanying delineation of my character by 
 F. Bly, a perfectly blind phrenologist, was given this 
 day, and is recorded as a kind of curiosity. Possibly 
 some of it is correct:— 
 
A PHRENOLOGICAL DESCRIPTION. 
 
 165 
 
 Temperament—nervous bilious; brain full size, favor¬ 
 ably balanced for contentment and happiness. 
 
 The scale, in numbering the various organs or facul¬ 
 ties, is from one to twenty, as follows: — 1, very small; 
 4, small; 7, moderate; 10, medium; 13, full; 16, 
 large ; 20, very large. Here is the size of each individ 
 nal function or organ :— 
 
 1 Amativeness, 9 
 
 2 Philoprogenitiveness, 10 
 
 3 Adhesiveness, 19 
 
 4 Inhabitiveness, 7 
 
 5 Concent rati veness, 15 
 
 6 Coinbativeness, 3 
 
 7 Destructiveness, 5 
 
 8 Alimentiveness, 8 
 
 9 Acquisitiveness, 7 
 
 10 Secretiveness, 9 
 
 11 Cautiousness, 14 
 
 12 Approbativeness, 10 
 
 13 Selt'-Esteein, 11 
 
 14 Firmness, 19 
 
 15 Conscientiousness, 18 
 
 16 Hope, 20 
 
 17 Marvelousness, 6 
 
 18 Veneration, 15 
 
 19 Benevolence, 17 
 
 20 Constructiveness, 14 
 
 21 Ideality, 19 
 
 This combination of phrenological development will 
 give one of the most wonderful characters of the age. 
 He is sensitive and impressible to a high degree; yet 
 his mind and body work in unison and harmony. No 
 man whom I have ever examined has more control 
 over his passions than himself. No circumstances, 
 however annoying, can irritate or ruffle the even tenor 
 of his way, because the intellectual faculties preponder¬ 
 ate, and the moral principles of the mind guide tl e 
 
 22 Imitation, 16 
 
 23 Mirthfulness, 11 
 
 24 Individuality, 20 
 
 25 Form, 13 
 
 26 Size, 15 
 
 27 Weight, 12 
 
 28 Color, 16 
 
 29 Order, 11 
 
 30 Calculation, 17 
 
 31 Locality, 15 
 
 32 Eventuality, 16 
 
 33 Time, 15 
 
 34 Tune, 8 
 
 35 Language, 18 
 
 36 Causality, 12 
 
 37 Comparison, 19 
 
 B Sublimity, 19 
 
 0 Suavity, 12 
 
 D An intuitive disposition to 
 
 know human nature, 20 
 
MEMORANDA. 
 
 166 
 
 reasoning powers in the channel of love and charity. 
 He has not the spirit of revenge, however ranch he may 
 be injured or reviled, though he ever has a resolute 
 desire to promote general good. This feeling has ever 
 actuated him from the earliest period of his life up to 
 the present. He has not the love of ambition or 
 personal fame. Selfishness is not a part of his disposi¬ 
 tion ; ever kind and affectionate; warm and ardent in 
 his attachment for his friends; no particular love for 
 place, but can make himself at home wherever his 
 friends or labors call him; always friendly and social 
 to ever one, yet he seeks not the applause of men. It 
 is natural for him to be devotional, watchful, and prayer¬ 
 ful, though with this organization of mind it is impos¬ 
 sible to believe and advocate the popular religious 
 faith, as it is taught by the orthodox churches. His 
 intuition, presentiment, and foresight, are preeminent; 
 his penetration and perceptive faculties enable him to 
 understand and appreciate life as it is, and the laws of 
 nature governing mind and matter. His originality of 
 thought and reflection, combined with the observing 
 powers, qualify him to study the books of nature with 
 success and interest to himself and others. Possessing 
 great application in the accomplishment of his purposes, 
 always looking forward with great anticipation to the 
 Spirit-world. Hot easily discouraged by disappoint¬ 
 ment of any kind; could bear misfortune well; always 
 the same in feeling and manner—yesterday, to day, and 
 forever; humorous and good-natured; mathematical 
 talent remarkably good ; enjoys music and might exe¬ 
 cute some, if cultivated; language well-developed, 
 conveys his ideas to others plainly and distinctly, at the 
 
A SPIRIT MOTHER. 
 
 107 
 
 same time his style of speaking is easy and fluent, well 
 calculated to please others; his expression is mild but 
 forcible; no man of mind can hear him and not be 
 interested ; memory generally good. This description, 
 according to my science and judgment, is true. But 
 much more might be said of this character. 
 
 62. 
 
 A SPIRIT-MOTHER CURES HER SON. 
 
 Hartfokd, Ct., September 6, 1853. 
 
 A New Yorker called upon me to-day to relate an 
 interesting test of the idea that death does not necessa¬ 
 rily sever the ties that bind parents to children, but that 
 guardianship is natural. It seems that in the summer 
 of 1850, Mr. Edward Tyler had a tumor formed in the 
 roof of his mouth, which, though small at first, was ex¬ 
 ceedingly painful, and gradually increased in size, till it 
 assumed an alarming appearance, so much so that he 
 was compelled to apply for medical advice—he then 
 residing near Boston. The doctor told him it must be 
 probed, which was consented to, but he either could not 
 or would not tell him definitely what the disease was. 
 After the probing, it was for some time less painful, but 
 ere long it assumed a more formidable appearance, and 
 his anxious friends thought (though they did not tell 
 him) that it must be a cancer. At this time he resorted 
 again to medical skill, but did not consult the same 
 physician as before, thinking that another professional 
 
168 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 man would give him more satisfactory assistance. The 
 tumor was again opened, but with no better permanent 
 results. Of course, day by day and week by week the 
 pain and inconvenience increased, and the want of his 
 regular food, which he was unable to masticate, reduced 
 him very much. 
 
 It was now the summer of 1852, when, in this state, 
 he came with his family to reside in Astoria. Soon 
 after his removal to this place, his friends advised him, 
 as a last resort, to apply for admission into the New 
 York Hospital. Every thing was arranged for his going 
 there; but two or three days before the time appointed 
 for his removal to the hospital, he visited Mrs. Snyder’s 
 circle, accompanied by his wife and sister, who also 
 reside in Astoria. On this occasion no one intended to 
 consult the spirits inspecting Mr. T.’s mouth, although 
 he and most of his family had attended the circle before; 
 but as they sat with the circle, and the spirit of his 
 departed mother was communing with them, his sister 
 asked, “ Mother, do you know how bad Edward’s mouth 
 is?” She answered by raps, “Yes.” “Do you know 
 that he is going to the hospital ?” Ans. “ No.” “ But 
 he is going.” Ans. “No.” All were very much sur¬ 
 prised, as every one in the room (and there were eight or 
 ten persons present) believed that he was going to the 
 hospital. This, by the way, is one striking illustration 
 of the fallacy of the opinion that the answers are at all 
 times in accordance with the mind of the medium, or 
 the parties present. 
 
 In this instance, the medium (Mrs. Snyder) was as 
 much astonished at the positive “ No,” as any one in 
 the room. Then the question was asked, “ Shall he 
 
WILLIAM AND MARY HOWITT. 
 
 169 
 
 apply to any other-physician ?” Ans. “ No.” “ Is he 
 then to linger out a miserable existence, and die with 
 the disease?” Ans. “No.” “Is there a cure for it?” 
 Ans. “Yes.” “Will you tell us what he is to do?” 
 Ans. “ Yes.” At this time one of the company was 
 impressed to say, “ I have known burnt alum to be used 
 with good effects in some cases.” Immediately three 
 violent raps were heard, indicating that that was the 
 remedy intended. It was accordingly applied, and its 
 good effects were in a few days satisfactorily felt — first 
 in lessening the pain, then in decreasing the size of the 
 tumor; and finally, without any other physical appli¬ 
 cation, an effectual cure was performed. 
 
 63. 
 
 VISION OF WILLIAM AND MARY HOWITT. 
 
 Portland, Me., March 10, 1854. 
 
 I am delivering a course of lectures in this city. . . . 
 Henry C. Wright is here,* and the “Hutchinson Fami¬ 
 ly” of natural singers. ... We spent hours together in 
 the hospitable parlor of the intelligent Widow Dennett, 
 whose house is ever open to reformers of the pure Gar¬ 
 risonian stamp. 
 
 What keen, cold weather! The very atmosphere 
 seems to sparkle and crackle like a silk dress loaded 
 with diamonds. . . . There is something mysteriously 
 delicious in this frosty, crispy air; it fills me with live 
 
 * The author’s estimates of the character and works of Mr. Wright 
 may be found in “ Tho Reformer,” Vol. IV., Gt. Har. 
 
 8 
 
170 
 
 MKMOKAJSTDA. 
 
 lightning, so to say, and promotes lucidity of clairvoy¬ 
 ant vision. 
 
 Yesterday I had a trans-Atlantic observation.... Saw 
 many places and persons of renown. I penetrated the 
 shadowy walls, and had a pleasant view of William and 
 Mary Howitt, the noted authors and translators of sev¬ 
 eral volumes from the German. . . . There was a sick 
 person in the house, and a child. I could not clairvoy- 
 antly approach Mr. Howitt without feeling an influence 
 from his sphere. He possesses a wonderful concentra¬ 
 tion of mind—few things disturb him ; yet he is remark¬ 
 ably sympathetic, and alive to the nobler impulses. 
 Music imparts a sense of pleasure to his mind, but 
 chiefly phenomenal displays of divine guidance, with 
 some philosophical investigations absorb his thoughts. 
 He is a very excellent judge of human nature; and 
 sometimes can almost perceive and scan the motives of 
 men. The organization of his person is extremely well 
 balanced. His mind is deep and reflective; and the 
 spiritual and intellectual nature predominates over the 
 public and social. He seems to be a bright and beauti¬ 
 ful spirit, and his sphere delights me. . . . He could 
 have been a kind-hearted and much-beloved minister of 
 the Established Church. He has a keen appreciation 
 of true wit; takes a peculiar delight in what others 
 term “ vagarieshe sincerely loves the fine arts and 
 good society; and the Truth he worships, but is not 
 independent of precedents and accredited authorities. 
 
 Another person I perceive. . . . Mrs. Mary Howitt, a 
 self-poised, lady-like, matronly, finely organized woman. 
 Her round body is wearing away somewhat under the 
 industry of her feeling, sentiments, and thinking powers. 
 
LECTURE ON ASTRONOMY. 
 
 171 
 
 Not selfish, but is rather easily absorbed in the comfort 
 and education of others. She causes others to feel 
 brighter, happier, better than herself. Her magnetism 
 is stimulating, and acts tonically upon those she is 
 moved to aid. Is fond of retirement; is spiritual (reli¬ 
 gious) in feeling; loves poetry better than philosophy, 
 and beautiful word-pictures better than either. ... I 
 see harmony and much independence in the life of these 
 noble persons. 
 
 My visit to-day over the Atlantic was of short dura¬ 
 tion—about thirty minutes. ... I went entirely for an¬ 
 other object, a use, to obtain a fact in geology for one 
 of my lectures; but, incidentally, under invitation of 
 their guardians, I could not refuse to look into that 
 home. For some reason I did not observe London as a 
 great city, but oidy this family by itself. 
 
 64. 
 
 A RICH LECTURE ON ASTRONOMY. 
 
 Portland, March 12, 18 54. 
 
 To-day I have come within one of having a personal 
 interview with the poet Whittier; that is, I have just 
 had a long, pleasant talk with the poet’s own brother. 
 He is a rather solemn, quiet gentleman ; smiles rarely 
 and confidentially; converses with great caution, like 
 a retired clergyman, and looks like one who seldom 
 felt the emotions of humor. Fancy my great pleasure 
 when a friend assured me that this same solemn, 
 thoughtful, unsmiling gentleman is the celebrated 
 
 o’ O O 
 
172 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 “Ethan Spike, Esq., of Hornby, Me.” Not long since 
 this grave man wrote the following letter to the Port¬ 
 land Transcript and Eclectic , descriptive of matters 
 and things in his part of the country. All readers 
 will enjoy his amusing report of 
 
 A LECTURE ON ASTRONOMY. 
 
 Perhaps in a litterary pint of view aour town haint 
 been so forrered as she orter. While Polly-ticks and 
 the millingtary interest has been carried furder perhaps 
 than in any other place on the airth, yet excepting 
 my own case, litteratoor hasn’t gone beyond coarse 
 hand-writing or the single rule of three. Ferlosofy 
 has been quoted in this market below pork; syence 
 hasn’t compared with syder; string beans has generally 
 sot higher than stronomy, letters led trigernometry and 
 punkins was ahead of poetry. Naow, haowsever, the 
 tables is turned bottom side under. Syence is riz ! 
 
 We’ve got a Lie-see-um! The cry of Letters is 
 begun, the tree of nollidge has sprouted, interlect biles 
 over matter—that ere interlect which has been dor¬ 
 mouse is naow raoused like a sleepy lion gittin away 
 from Jordan. 
 
 The fust lectur of the season was gin last night by 
 James Peabody, who’s bin one quarter to an acade- 
 mary. 
 
 General subjek— Stronomy. 
 
 Partickeler ditto—C omics. 
 
 I haint time to gin you more’n a digestive or fac- 
 simelar of the lectur— 
 
 Jemes begun by observin that ef anybody supposed 
 
LECTURE ON ASTRONOMY. 
 
 173 
 
 that the stars warnt a heap bigger than they looked, 
 they was almighty behind hand. Why, sez he, there’s 
 that ar little shiner called Satan, says he, don’t look 
 bigger than a tater, and yet according to Herklys — who 
 knows the heavenly bodies jist as well as I know 
 father—tis somewhat larger than the whole county of 
 Oxford ! An the leetlest star you can pick aout, is as 
 big as a cart wheel. At this pint Dea. Elderberry ris 
 an said this was goin too fur, twas regelar blasfeeme, 
 contrary to scriptur, and agin common sense. Then he 
 tuck his hat and cleared, fust spittin aout his terbaker 
 cud as a testimony agin the doctrine. 
 
 After speaking of the milky wav—which he said 
 was longer than the Cumberland or Oxford canawl—an 
 the moon, which the onlarned considered to be a green 
 cheese, but which syence demonstrated to be a jacker- 
 lantern on a large scale, the lecterer proceeded to the 
 pertickeler part of his subjek. 
 
 COMICS, OR BLAZIN STARS. 
 
 Comics, says Jemes—says he—are of two kinds, the 
 Tame and the Wild. The fust is peaceable—tother 
 aint. The fust ones is made of old moons as aint fit 
 for service, and is called by the oneddikated shootin 
 stars, but we of the schools call em meters. This dif¬ 
 ference led the speaker to remark that larnin is every 
 thin. 
 
 The wild kind, says Jemes, is a different crittur: 
 bein composed of nebulous matter, hyfolution gass, ox- 
 side of cast iron, an salts of harmonia, makes it highly 
 salvage and onsartan. They fust appeared about 
 
MEMORANDA. 
 
 in 
 
 DeuicruAomy or perhaps a little later in the year six 
 and was diskivered spontaneously from Portland Ob- 
 servators and Pompey’s pillow in Rooshy. They are . 
 pesky things, says he, oilers gittin up wars, hurrykanes, 
 and airtliquakes, &c. Oneasy and restless, travelin 
 about faster than a rale road, but never reachin any¬ 
 wheres in pertickeler. Kinder loominated Peter 
 Ruggs. Mighty onsartin, they ar—can’t be depended 
 on. Father Miller engaged one to do a pertickeler job 
 in ’43, but it probably got better tarins somewheres 
 else, and that ere job remains ondone to this day. 
 
 But now, says Jemes, we come to consider their tails. 
 Them, says he, is raal numerous. Talk about the 
 moon’s wondrous tale! Why the tales of all the plan- 
 ics in the cideral heavings wouldn’t make one for a fust 
 rate wild comic! Longer than the magnetic paragraph 
 and wider than Sebago pond, they stretches aout over 
 the universal kanerpy in the unlimited nugacity of 
 either, now sweepin’ down among the elongate con¬ 
 cavities of diurnal convexities and agin sorein upwards 
 till lost in the grate hyperion ! 
 
 Jemes was so used up by this peoration that he had 
 to be carried home on a cheer. This morning, how¬ 
 ever, he was as well as could be expected, and ef con¬ 
 valescence don’t set in he’ll be about in a day or two. 
 
THE RAG-PICKER’S STORE. 
 
 175 
 
 66 . 
 
 THE RAG PICKER’S STORY. 
 
 New York, November 8, 1854. 
 
 A friend gives me a report of a sceance , during 
 which occurred the following manifestations :— 
 
 L., was influenced and, in the tone and manner of 
 gentle girlhood, she said :— 
 
 I’m happy now. I guess I am. I’m in Heaven I 
 guess. I hain’t got any bare feet any more neither. 
 Ain’t I happy! Nobody scolds me any more neither. 
 Ain’t I happy ! Guess I am. I wish I could And 
 mother tho’. I tell you what—these cold stones ain’t 
 agoing to hurt my feet any more, are they ? 
 
 I heard the doctor say when I was dying, “ The poor 
 little wretch is dying.” What did he call me wretch 
 for? 
 
 I used to go round the streets in hot weather and 
 cold weather getting pieces of bread and picking up 
 rags. I used to be sorrowful and hungry sometimes. 
 I used to hook an apple when I could find one and 
 couldn’t get any thing else. I used to tell God to look 
 another way. At that time I had been told God was 
 looking at me. 
 
 I was took sick. But say! What’s the reason you 
 don’t tell me to go away? You let me come in and 
 
176 
 
 MEMORANDA 
 
 don’t say go away ! Oh! I know. You can’t see me and 
 I’ve got the better of you. I feel kind ashamed to talk 
 before you, but 1 feel so kind, so happy, I can’t help it. 
 
 Mother cried a peck when I died, I know. I guess 
 baby will miss me tho’, won’t she'$ I went home after 
 picking up rags and felt kind-o-bad all over. Mother 
 said I’d got cold ; and every day when I come home my 
 legs grew stiffer and stiffer and would ache dreadful bad. 
 
 I wanted to go out one morning ’cause I’d promised 
 some girls we’d go round the streets down town and 
 have a good pick, for a fellow had been moving and 
 thrown his dirt in the street. I couldn’t go, I felt so 
 bad. 
 
 Mother used to take the rags, wash ’em out, dry ’em, 
 and sell ’em. She couldn’t go a picking, for she had a 
 baby. I thought the baby might as well know how to 
 pick rags as I, and I used to give it the poker and teach 
 it how. It thought it fine fun. It was black too—had 
 black hair and eyes, but I had light. Why was this ? 
 
 Well! I got kind-o-sick and the baby used to take 
 me for rags and poke me. I guess she warn’t far from 
 right to look at my petticoats. I lay there in the cor¬ 
 ner. The rats used to make such a noise I couldn’t 
 sleep and I wanted to poke them. 
 
 [Hear she was speaking too fast for me to write, and 
 I said, “ wait a minute.” She said, “ I guess you’re 
 waiting to cross Broadway.”] 
 
 She then resumed:— 
 
 As I was laying one night in the corner—dreadful 
 sick, I tell you my head ached like fun, I heard a kind- 
 o-noise and thought it was the nasty rats. I looked round 
 and seen, oh ! the prettiest thing right above me ! It 
 
THE RAG-PICKER S STORY. 
 
 177 
 
 was a woman, so smiling and pretty? Oh, warn’t she 
 pretty! She looked so white and clean and there 
 was no rags about her. And when she looked at me, 
 her eyes were like two stars. It made me feel comfort¬ 
 able all over, and says I—“ Where did you corns 
 from ?” She says : “ Mag, dear child ! I’ve come for 
 you to go home with me.” “ Oh, dear!” says I, “ I 
 don’t look nice enough.” She kissed me and told me 
 never mind my clothes, God didn’t mind if man did. 
 She said she’d take me where I’d be real happy. I 
 asked her if she knowed me? She said, Oh yes! she’d 
 been with me ever since I was a little bit of a baby. 
 Warn’t she good! I told mother of it and I heard her 
 tell some of the neighbors, I was out of ray head, and 
 she said I was going to die. She cried awful hard and 
 I did die, and found myself right in the arms of that 
 lady, and she says now I can come round the baby and 
 mother and make mother better and happy and take 
 care of baby better than I used to. 
 
 Where I is, is all a beautiful place. Tain’t no cold 
 where I am. I don’t shiver nor hungry now. ’Cept, I 
 want to see mother sometimes. And then I can go and 
 see her, and that lady’s spirit round me says as how 
 there is around a great many ragged children just such 
 pretty faces as hers. 
 
 I asked her one time, who she was ? and she says she 
 once lived in our land and had a little baby and she 
 loved that baby better than her Heavenly Father, she 
 fears, and lie took her baby home to Him. She felt 
 very lonesome. She grew older and she went home. 
 And they told her, before her baby could be always with 
 her, she must go to earth and take care of some little 
 
178 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 cliild, and so she had picked me out ’cause she’d seen I 
 was like her baby. She seen my mother had so many, 
 she didn’t care particular about me. And now, she 
 says, she’ll go where her little child is, and I’ll be lone¬ 
 some! Won’t I? She says, if I’ll be good, I’ll come 
 where she is and be her child with the other one. 
 
 She says, God ain’t a great big angry man. but he 
 loves every little child, if she is dirty and ragged, and if 
 I’ll only be good, I'll always be happy. She says God 
 is all love. Well! I guess I’ll turn it the other way, 
 Love is all God. I’ll remember it better that way. 
 
 When I come here to night, I thought I was going to 
 mother. How she says I may go to mother. If you ain’t 
 ashamed of me I’ll come again. 
 
 [Here the communication seemed to cease, but L. re¬ 
 mained under the influence. What had been said thus far, 
 had been said continuously by her, without interruption. 
 How Mr. A. and Mrs. S, became influenced, and through 
 the three mediums the following dialogue occurred:] 
 
 Mr. A. described her appearance—“ She had on a 
 check petticoat.” 
 
 L. “ Why ! Tou can see me can’t you ?” 
 
 Mr. A. “ Her petticoat was two or three inches longer 
 than her frock—” 
 
 L. “ So it was. The frock was given me but the petti¬ 
 coat was one of mother’s. They used to say I stole— ” 
 
 I asked. “ Did you ?” 
 
 L. “ I did. I used to hook once in a while. What 
 are you going to do, if you are hungry and see lots of 
 things not eaten up ?” 
 
 In answer to some questions, she said she was about 
 ten years old, and lived in Centre Street, near Pearl. 
 
THE KAG-riCKER’s STORY 
 
 179 
 
 I asked her mother’s name ? 
 
 L. “ Let that lady tell.” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ Her name was Katrina Moeglar. Her 
 father used to get drunk, and once a big fellow came 
 and took him away”— 
 
 L. “ And I never seen him since.” 
 
 Mrs. S. then had a vision of her mother’s residence 
 and described it, and, as she described, the child recog¬ 
 nized it and added some particulars. It was a single 
 room in a cellar. It had a few chairs, a broken table, lots 
 of rags, some shavings, a piece of broken looking-glass— 
 
 L. “ That I stole, and used to look at myself in it. I 
 wonder you can go down there, it is so dirty. Do you 
 see mother ?” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ I see there a pale-looking woman—some 
 one says she has the consumption.” 
 
 L. “ Do yon see the baby ?” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ Yes, dear little thing! It is lying on some 
 rags.” 
 
 L. “ Has it grown ?” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ It would he a pretty child if taken care of. 
 I see a gray cat there.” 
 
 L. “ That was my pussy, I hope they give it enough 
 to eat.” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ I see somebody else there—” 
 
 L. “ It is one of mother’s boarders.” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ She is an old woman and looks wretched. 
 She has a basket filled with paper and rags.” 
 
 L. “ And a flat nose. It’s old auntv She used to 
 lick me like every thing.” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ I see a boy there—” 
 
 L. “ It's her son Peter.” 
 
180 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 Mrs. S. “ I see a man there, a horrid looking man.” 
 
 L. “ Is he there yet ? It’s old aunty’s husband. He 
 hired one corner of the room.” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ Your mother won’t live long—” 
 
 L. “ Won’t she? What’ll be done with the baby?” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ She coughs now and spits blood.” 
 
 L. “ This lady says I can then take mother in my 
 arms. But what will they do with the baby ?” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ It will be taken care of.” 
 
 L. “ Who’ll do it ?” 
 
 Mrs. S. ‘‘A kind lady who belongs to a society—” 
 
 L. “ Has she come again ?” 
 
 Mrs. S. “Yes she takes care of your mother and 
 sends her food. Your mother is not able to work now. 
 She used to wash for the poor people around her and 
 get two shillings a day, and since her strength failed 
 her, her only means of living have been to let a part of 
 her miserable room to lodgers, and a kind lady helps 
 her as much as she is able to.” 
 
 L. “Say, Misses, do you see the street that runs 
 down near the house ; it’s awfully crooked—cow tracks, 
 the boys called it.” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ The spirit here tells me to tell you, little 
 child, your mother will soon be with you.” 
 
 L. “ Ain’t I happy!” 
 
 [It is impossible to convey an adequate idea of the 
 tone in which this was said. It was full of deep emotion 
 and subdued joy. It was inexpressibly touching.] 
 
 Mrs. S. “ Your father here to night is crying bitter 
 tears of repentance and shame.” 
 
 L. “ Will, he let me speak to him ? I ain’t afraid of 
 him now ” 
 
THE RAO-PICKEr’s STORY. 
 
 181 
 
 Mrs. S. “He is not permitted yet.” 
 
 L. “ Why not ?” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ He is not able to answer you, my child.” 
 
 L. “ Has he lost his tongue ? He used to have one 
 long enough and talk loud enough.” 
 
 Mrs. S. u Be patient my child. You’ll meet again.” 
 
 L. “ Say, will mother be with me, then ?” 
 
 Mrs. S. “ Yes.” 
 
 L. “ O dear! I m glad of that.” 
 
 [Here the influence seemed to be withdrawn, and the 
 interview to end. But the spirit that attended the child 
 then spoke to us:] 
 
 She said that she had as yet seen her own child but 
 once since her entrance, several years since, into the 
 spirit world. The reason was that her love for it was a 
 selfish love. She had lived a common, ordinary life on 
 earth, caring little for the future ; and on her entrance 
 there she found that she must return to earth and finish 
 the task she had neglected while living here, by taking 
 into her care some child, whom she could guide and pro¬ 
 tect until she should remove from her love all its earthly 
 taint. Her task was now nearly performed. The 
 child she had selected was now very dear to her, to¬ 
 gether they would progress, and soon she would again be 
 united to her dearly loved child, and they tb'.eo Vif^ther 
 advance onwar 1 toward their high destinj 
 
182 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 66 . 
 
 IMPROVEMENT IN THE QUALITY OP COMMUNICATIONS. 
 
 Auburn, N. Y., January II, 1855. 
 
 Perhaps some good may result from a few notes in 
 regard to my daily paths. O, if I could only paint the 
 changing scenes and pleasant places through which I 
 
 pass in this teaching excursion.But the 
 
 spirit of description is not upon me this morning. The 
 incidents of my journey are interesting to me, but I 
 
 have not the assurance that-could see in them a 
 
 similar fascination.Since my departure 
 
 from Hartford, I have addressed thousands of my fel¬ 
 low-men.Although I have, ere this, visited 
 
 several of the localities, yet now my spirit beholds 
 them as fairer than before. They are like familiar 
 forms clad in new garments of brighter texture, 
 perhaps, because a marked change, an internal im¬ 
 provement has occurred in the people since 1853. Then 
 I found every audience alive only in the direction of 
 Miracle and Mystery. Now, I find more solidity of 
 thought, and more attraction manifested toward the 
 truly philosophic departments of Harmonial Reform. 
 . . . . In 1852-3, my observations led me to state 
 
 publicly that only 40 per cent, of the occurring phe¬ 
 nomena were traceable to spiritual causes. Now I can 
 
QUALITY OF COMMUNICATIONS. 
 
 183 
 
 affirm truthfully that fully 70 per cent, is a legitimate 
 emanation from the higher sphere of human existence. 
 . . . . Another fact is remarkable. The character 
 
 of the correspondence between the two worlds has been 
 steadily progressing in purity and wisdom. True, here 
 and there I encounter a medium, who, by organization, 
 invites ordinary manifestation. But this class is rapidly 
 finding its healthy limitations. 
 
 Many experiences on my trip are of too interior a 
 nature to admit of hasty description ; therefore, as I 
 write these notes in haste, they must for the present re¬ 
 main untold.Occasionally, while discours¬ 
 
 ing, my perceptions are far beyond my audience. New 
 views open before me, brighter and grander than when 
 surrounded by witnesses in days of yore. Spiritual 
 “ new births ” in the hearts of persons occur in all 
 directions. I have seen many a crucified Reason re¬ 
 surrected, and the heart of an auditor suddenly awak¬ 
 ened to newness of life, inspired with noble resolutions 
 in favor of human redemption from discord, and in 
 favor yet more of the unconditional emancipation of 
 slaves in all climes and under all circumstances. In 
 the light of Harmonial Gospel I now and then behold 
 the things and dwellers of earth touched with a heav¬ 
 enly radiance, as the “ morning dawn streams over the 
 horizon of hope,” and as the promises of eternal pro¬ 
 gression come to my soul, indorsed unmistakably by 
 
 Nature’s every principle.Steadily my 
 
 spirit is approaching the westward localities. But 1 
 fear my time is too limited to visit them all. The south¬ 
 ern tier of towns in the State of New York I must pass 
 entirely by, in consequence of engagements in cities. 
 
184 - 
 
 memoranda. 
 
 . . . . Rev. J. H. Fowler is on tlie same jath with 
 me. He is a graduate of Cambridge, was a clergyman 
 for a few years, but is now in the field of the New Dis¬ 
 pensation. Of course he is preaching Reform. . „ 
 
 67. 
 
 ORTHODOX OPPOSITION TO REFORM IN THE MARRIAGE 
 RELATION. 
 
 Brooklyn, August 24, 1855. 
 
 This forenoon was spent in writing and meditation. 
 . . . . Returning from the customary afternoon 
 
 trip to New York, the mail-carrier met me at the door, 
 and delivered into my hand a copy of the N. Y. Inde¬ 
 pendent , edited by Henry Ward Beecher, containing 
 the following not remarkable specimen of Dr. George 
 B. Cheever's Christian fairness and liberality :— 
 
 “ ‘ The Great Harmonia.’ —Somebody has sent us volume 
 four of a series issued by that impudent pretender, Andrew Jack- 
 son Davis. The course of our duty has compelled ns to form 
 some acquaintance with many bad books, but with none more de¬ 
 destable than this.” 
 
 Yet Henry Ward Beecher himself is believed, by the 
 majority of “Christian clergymen” to be a dangerous 
 man, and his paper of course is considered a “ danger¬ 
 ous ” sheet.Only a few days ago. very soon 
 
 after the publication of this Fourth volume, I chanced 
 to take up an influential weekly journal, containing a 
 somewhat different notice by the Editor thus :— 
 
ORTHODOX OPPOSITION'. 
 
 185 
 
 “We would earnestly call attention to tlie fourth rolume of 
 the ‘Great Harmonia,’ by A. J. Davis, recently published. 
 Perhaps there are some of our readers who have not read it; 
 and our appeal is to them, that they do so at once. It contains 
 suggestions of wisdom that should be appropriated by every 
 lover of his kind. Says the author upon the title-page—‘ Abso¬ 
 lute purity of heart and life is the richest human possession ; 
 and perfect obedience to the highest attractions of the soul is 
 the only means of its attainment.’ This is a key to the work. 
 Oh, that this comprehensive treatise upon physiological vices and 
 virtues could be universally read and digested by the youth of 
 our land. The trne field of the Reformer is this. Scatter the 
 seed among the youth , where it will surely find a genial soil, and 
 germinate to profit.” 
 
 And in another paper, only yesterday, I noticed this 
 appeal:— 
 
 “ Reader, have you read this excellent book ? If not, do not 
 delay procuring it and reading it carefully, deliberately, repeat¬ 
 edly, especially if you have or belong to a family. You will find 
 the price of it one of the best expenditures you ever made. Do 
 not lose time by pleading poverty or want of money; do without 
 tobacco, tea, coffee, meat, or even bread for the body, until you 
 secure this bread for the soul. It is the best, because it is the 
 most practical of that excellent author’s works; it teaches the 
 true theory of life—especially of conjugal and parental life. 
 Every family who lias a copy of the Bible, should have a copy 
 of this book by its side, and read it as often, until the best teach¬ 
 ing of the Bible, or Christianity, has become practical, and im¬ 
 proved upon by a living reform.” 
 
 On the other hand, by way of variety to spice up 
 public thought, the evangelical editor of the Hartford 
 Cowant says:— 
 
 “ This fourth volume of the gospel according to Andrew Jack- 
 son Davis, contains the physiological vices and virtues, and the 
 
186 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 seven phases of marriage. We think it one of the worst booki 
 ever published; calculated, if followed up, to overthrow all that 
 the laws and the gospel of Christ have ordained concerning the 
 sacredness of marriage.” 
 
 68 . 
 
 AN ORTHODOX EDITOR ON THE ORIGIN OF FREE LOVE. 
 
 Hartford, October 25, 1855. 
 
 The respectable orthodox editor of the respectable 
 Hartford Courant appears this morning in the follow¬ 
 ing atrocious love story :— 
 
 One of the consequences of the “ Gospel according to Andrew 
 Jackson Davis ” is the introduction of the new, sensual, abomin¬ 
 able doctrine of Free Love. It would break up all the benefits 
 which God ordained should arise from the family circle to child¬ 
 ren in their education in purity and usefulness, and to the 
 domestic happiness of man. It would make society one complete 
 brothel, and all men and women its unprincipled inmates. It is 
 time that men who value the purity of the domestic home, the 
 chastity of uncontaminated woman, and the preservation of the 
 next generation in virtue, should lift up their voices against this 
 most abominable doctrine. The following is but one of many of 
 the instances of this fatal doctrine—catering to the very lowest 
 and worst passions of human nature: “ A lady residing in Ainslie 
 street, Williamsburg, appeared before Colonel Ming, at the 
 Mayor’s office, yesterday morning, and entered a complaint that 
 her husband for a year past has been a member of a spiritual 
 circle which meets at 193 Bowery; and he says that he has re¬ 
 ceived a communication informing him that it was just and 
 proper that he should form new associations with females when¬ 
 ever he saw fit, and with as many different ones as his spirit 
 might move him to. He also endeavors to persuado her to re¬ 
 ceive the visits of different men, assuring her that there is no 
 
EDITOR IN TIIE BALANCE. 
 
 1S7 
 
 harm in her doing so, notwithstanding she has two children by 
 him.” So much for departing from the faith of the gospel of 
 Christ and going astray after the delusions and errors of Spir¬ 
 itualism ! “ By its fruits ye shall know it.” If it has any 
 
 origin beyond that of living humbuggery, it is that of the In¬ 
 fernal Regions! 
 
 69. 
 
 “JUSTITIA” WEIGHS THE “COURANT” EDITOR IN THE 
 BALANCE. 
 
 Hartford, October 27, 1855. 
 
 To the Editor of the Courant :— 
 
 An article in your paper of the 25th, under the 
 above title, is calculated to do great injustice from its 
 misstatements, unintentional, no doubt, and which you 
 will gladly see corrected. You associate with what 
 the public have chosen to call Free Love, the name of 
 Andrew Jackson Davis, and the body of the believers 
 in Spiritualism, making the Spiritualists responsible 
 for the opinions of Mr. Davis, and asserting that Mr. 
 Davis was the introducer of the doctrine of Free Love. 
 Both these statements are entirely incorrect. Mr. Davis 
 did not introduce the doctrine of Free Love. It had 
 been advocated in various forms before he ever uttered 
 a word to the public. I do not know that he even ac¬ 
 cepts it. But I do know that he did not originate it; 
 that it was taught long ago, and is still, by those having 
 no connection whatever with him. But for his views 
 on this or any other matter, Spiritualists are not re- 
 
188 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 sponsible. Spiritualism did not originate with Mr. 
 Davis, nor does it indorse his opinions. His “ Revela* 
 tions,” so-called, were published before Spiritualism 
 was heard of, and never claimed to have been dictated 
 by spirits, but to have been uttered by him in a state 
 of trance. As a believer in Spiritualism, which he 
 subsequently became, he is but one of hundreds of 
 thousands, many of whom have no sympathy with, or 
 even knowledge of, his opinions. He is not in any 
 measure the founder of the faith, nor of the body ac¬ 
 cepting it. 
 
 As to the relation of Spiritualists to Free Love, it is to 
 be said, first, that the doctrine, so-called, did not originate 
 with them. The Socialists, before them, were charged 
 with it, and with equal injustice. Second, the Spir¬ 
 itualists have never indorsed the doctrine. The story 
 which you quote, if true, only shows how a sensual 
 man may abuse Spiritualism to promote his sensual 
 ends, even as others have actually perverted the Chris¬ 
 tian Scriptures for the same purpose. But it is an old, 
 and still a true saying, that the abuse of a thing is no 
 argument against its use. Third, the avowal of this 
 doctrine has not been peculiar to Spiritualists. The 
 club in New York City, about which there has been so 
 much excitement, was not made up of Spiritualists. 
 Indeed, no evidence has been furnished that any con¬ 
 siderable portion of it consisted of this class. And 
 lastly, the doctrine numbers very few advocates amoDg 
 the Spiritualists. They are an insignificant minority, 
 numerically speaking, some few score, perhaps, among 
 hundreds of thousands; while among the majority op¬ 
 posed to the doctrine, there have be m frequent con- 
 
ABIGAIL MOSES. 
 
 189 
 
 demnations of its tendencies, and that long before any 
 of the public prints thought fit to stir in the matter. 
 
 It is quite time that the public were candid enough 
 to recognize what lias been often asserted by the Spir¬ 
 itualists themselves, viz: that they have but one article 
 of faith, in which they all unite, and for which they, 
 as a whole, are responsible, which is, “ that spirits can 
 and do communicate with man,” and that for all abuses 
 of this doctrine, and for all other opinions or practices 
 entertained by individuals, individuals only are to be 
 held accountable. 
 
 I have written the above, Mr. Editor, not as an in¬ 
 dorser of Mr. Davis, or a believer in Spiritualism, or 
 an advocate of Free Love. For I am neither, least of 
 all, the last; but as one bound to obey Christ’s injunc¬ 
 tion to “ judge righteous judgment.” I hold it neither 
 just nor right to make a body of individuals, among 
 whom are to be found, as I know, some of the purest 
 minds, responsible for the vagaries or the vices which 
 a few of their number, in common with many more 
 not of their number, may display; especially when 
 such responsibility has been repeatedly, in private and 
 in public, repudiated. 
 
 Justitla. 
 
 70- 
 
 ABIQAIL MOSES, A TYPE OP THE FREE LOVERS. 
 
 Brooklyn, December 6, 1855 
 
 It is said that a certain clique of New Yorkers, mostly 
 socialists and retired literati , have organized a kind of 
 
190 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 private Drawing-room Association for the purpose of 
 of discussing freely questions not elsewhere admissi¬ 
 ble .... It is also reported that the majority of 
 these persons are Spiritualists .... Whether this is 
 true, or not, I do not know, for I have only to-day heard 
 any thing definite concerning the Society. I have just 
 read, with considerable amusement, the following 
 
 Letter from, Abigail Moses to the Mew York Evening 
 
 Post , Explanatory of how she found out what her 
 
 “ Innard Natur ’ ” required. 
 
 I raily haint a minit of time, dear neighbor, Mrs. 
 Baldwin, to devote to nobody, but I do recon I’d better 
 jest let you know somethin’ about this here society of 
 assoeiationers I’m contemplatin’ joinin’. Afore I begin 
 I’d like to menshun that if you’d just step in and see to 
 husband’s stockin’s I’d take it agreeable. I hadn’t no 
 
 time to mend ’em, for Professor K-h had such a 
 
 heap to tell me about the innard development, and of 
 his spiritual coalition with my spiritual witals, that I 
 sat a good bit longer than I meant to, with him ; an’ 
 somehow or other he ketched a hold of my hand an’ 
 said he didn’t know when he’d been so monstrously 
 drawed to any body afore. He hadn’t nothin’ to say 
 agin my husband ; he might be a very clever person; 
 but yet he felt convinced my natur was sich an elevated 
 one, he raily believed my wants hadn’t never been 
 met. 
 
 I told him sure enough they hadn’t, but I reckoned 
 the reason was, we were too poor to go to further ex¬ 
 pense, buying things. But I did confess, if there was a 
 want I had, it was for a new parlor carpet, ourn was a 
 
ABIGAIL MOSES. 
 
 191 
 
 gittin’ so dreadful shabby. The Professor gin me an 
 awful nudge then, and said I must excuse him, if ha 
 didn’t feel disposed for joking that morning ; he was a 
 sufferin’' most tremenjous innard tortures, ’cause he’d 
 been misunderstood the day afore by a person who 
 wasn’t great enough to comprehend him. Of course I 
 let on I understood him, and pretended I’d been jokin’, 
 but afterwards, when I went to the meetin’, I found out 
 all about what it meant; and I’m real miserable, neigh¬ 
 bor Baldwin, to think I’ve been a livin’ these sixteen 
 years with Hiram Moses, an’ lie’s never yet compre¬ 
 hended what my natur’ required. 
 
 I know my hull bein’ haint called into play ; there's 
 only one set of faculties a goin’, an’ I might as well be 
 a livin’ mummy, as to be mated with such a noodle. 
 Brother B—e ses he’s convinced me and him has sich a 
 sympathy for one another, that we must have played 
 together when we was children in some other state of 
 existence, an’ though I don’t remember ever bein’ in 
 that state, yet I s’pose it's jest so. Brother B—e is a very 
 spiritual soul, an’ is jest as developed as he can be. 
 Me and him has sich good times together, and sich 
 beautiful attractions to one another, that we don’t think 
 no more of kissin’ than if we was two females. He sed 
 1 needn’t tell Hiram, though, for it wasn’t likely he’d 
 understand how our spirits met, an’ he was one of 
 those common-place beins who might go and kick up a 
 rumpus about me a kissin’ another woman’s husband. 
 
 I do declare it’s too bad to be forced into sich a posi¬ 
 tion as I am with Hiram ; but Dr. C—s ses that’s just 
 the way with him an’ his wife; she haint no under- 
 standin’ of the ideal beauty of sich friendships, and 
 
192 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 don’t begin to till up the measure of his soul’s yearnin’ 
 after perfection. Poor fellow ! he’s so often cast back 
 upon himself that it is enough to crush his too sensitive 
 natur’. The meetin’s on thursday nihhts is all the 
 comfort I have. There’s been Professor K—h an’ S—, 
 Dr. E—y, an’ Mr. H— an’Mr. H—s, that’s all situated 
 just in the same uncomfortable way in their domestic 
 relations, besides several females that’s study in’ medi¬ 
 cine and ’natomy so hard that they partake quite of the 
 natur’ of skeletons. Their souls is developed at the 
 expense of their poor, frail, perishable bodies. 
 
 E— B—- don’t think no more of dissectin’ dead 
 bodies than she would of cuttin’ up a roast chicken. I 
 don’t know as Pd trust her to treat my neuralogy, but 
 Hiram might just as well employ the poor thing for his 
 rheumatiz as not. She looks as though she might 
 handle a right gripin’ case pretty severe. But the best 
 of all is the principles we purfess. There we sit the 
 hull evenin’ and jest discourse about the poor oppressed 
 creatures that have to git their livin’ at shovelin’ snow, 
 handlin’ wood, and so on. It would raily do your 
 marrow bones good to see the benevolence and charity 
 that prevails, an’ how they remarks, they don’t want 
 no body to do nothin’ that don’t agree with ’em—an’ 
 I’m sure mendin’ stockin’s don’t agree with me. 
 
 An’ they tell sich lovely anecdotes about them who go 
 on an’ git every thing done as cheap as they can, so as 
 to cheat folks, an’ grind down the poor. And then, be¬ 
 sides all this active goodness an’ a strugglin’ to redeem 
 their feller bein’s, they have a festival about onst a year, 
 so as to hear the remarks of them as comes from the 
 furrin cities—such as Boston and Philadelphia—con- 
 
ABIGAIL MOSES. 
 
 193 
 
 earnin’ the wickedness of people in not payin’ their 
 workmen ; an’ Brother C— often draws tears from the 
 female members regardin’ the tramplin’ down of their 
 blessed privileges. lie’s lovely, an’ there aint one of us 
 females, ugly or otherwise, but what lie’s willin’ to 
 embrace in gospel love. 
 
 I do hope, neighbor Baldwin, that I’m as virtuous a 
 person as there is in the world ; but I must say, I can’t 
 see a bit of harm in relievin’ my full sympathies in the 
 buzzums of them that are my spiritual partners—’cause 
 wat’s the body, any how? ’Taint no more than a wet 
 blanket throw’d over the sperrit—a squenchin’ the 
 yearnin’ after that soul communion that every well- 
 
 developed person feels. Mr. K- says ‘ I’m a great 
 
 soul,’ and that sich sentiments has inaugurated me 
 more tangibly into liis best feelin’s than any paltry 
 takin’ on of what the world calls 1 modesty.’ Ses he to 
 me, a standin’ on the steps t’other night, ‘Would we 
 was in the blessed Philanstery !’ My sperrit whispered 
 ‘ Without Hiram,’ tho ; an’ his’n immediat elyrespond- 
 ed in an audible ‘ Yes.’ So completely do we meet one 
 another. 
 
 We have been readin’ Jacque together. I recon you 
 wouldn’t be pleased with his observations on this, but 
 it’s the very epitome of morality and virtue, we think. 
 I’m come to the end of my sheet, and here’s Hiram just 
 come in—ugh ? My soul revolts from him. But I’m 
 doomed to misery. Pity my unfortunate organization 
 that requires sich different associations. 
 
 Yourn, 
 
 9 
 
 Abigail Moses. 
 
194 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 P. S.—I send you some verses which I’ve bin a ritin 
 to try to settle the commotions that’s continually ragin 
 in my breast when I think of my contrary attractions 
 
 VERSES BY ABIGAIL MOSES. 
 
 I aint a doin’ nothin else, 
 
 But walking paths that’s thorny, 
 
 For him that needs iny werry soul 
 Is going to Californy. 
 
 And now I’m left to bear the brunt 
 Of life with Hiram Moses; 
 
 He’s just as different from me, 
 
 As poppies is from roses. 
 
 He eats and drinks, and works and sleeps, 
 
 An’ aint a bad provider, 
 
 But nectar’s all the same to him 
 As so much beer and cider. 
 
 I hate this way of doin’ life, 
 
 In sums of vulgar fractions ; 
 
 My spirit yearns for sympathy, 
 
 And ‘ passional attractions.’ 
 
 My spiral natur’s innard self, 
 
 Has gone and bin divided ; 
 
 Of course I can’t be nothin’ else, 
 
 But innardly lop-sided ; 
 
 I keep a graspin’ after things 
 That’s neither here nor yonder, 
 
 Just like a goose that’s yoked for life 
 To him that aint her gander. 
 
 I know we’ll meet in sperrit yet, 
 
 But some how human natur’, 
 
 Let’s try to squelch it all we can, 
 
 Develops soon or later. 
 
THE PROFESSORS OF HARVARD. 
 
 195 
 
 And if it’s true, 1 All flesh is grass,’ 
 It’s time ole Hiram Moses 
 Was greenin’ in the pickle now, 
 
 For that Metempsychosis. 
 
 He haint got no ideal life, 
 
 And ‘ pivotal revolvin’, 
 
 He don’t begin to comprehend, 
 
 Or even think of solvin’; 
 
 I sometimes wish my views of things 
 Was all confined to wittals, 
 
 To makin’ bread and pumpkin pies, 
 An’ scourin’ pots and kettles. 
 
 And then I shouldn’t feel so bad, 
 Because I ain’t rewealin’, 
 
 To some one else’s t’other self, 
 
 My undeweloped feelins; 
 
 I wonder when the time’ll come, 
 
 That in association, 
 
 A studyin’ of the beautiful, 
 
 I’ll follow my vocation. 
 
 71. 
 
 SPIRITUALISM OVERTHROWN BY THE PROFESSORS OF 
 HARVARD UNIVERSITY. 
 
 New York, July 10, 1857. 
 
 The Boston controversy respecting “ Spiritualism,” 
 growing out of an offer of $500 by The Courier to any 
 one who could exhibit in tlie presence and to the satis¬ 
 faction of certain eminent Professors of the Natural 
 Sciences, in Harvard University, any such marvelous, 
 
196 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 phenomena as were commonly reported by Spiritualists 
 as having transpired in the presence if not through the 
 agency of certain persons designated “ mediums,” has 
 resulted, after a week’s investigation, in the following 
 award:—- 
 
 “ The Committee award that Dr. Gardner, having failed to pro¬ 
 duce before them an agent or medium who 4 communicated a 
 4 word imparted to the spirits in an adjoining room,’ 4 who read a 
 4 word in English written inside a book or folded sheet of paper,’ 
 who answered any question ‘which the superior intelligence must 
 ‘be able to answer,’ 4 who tilted a piano without touching it, or 
 4 caused a chair to move a foot;’ and having failed to exhibit 
 to the Committee any phenomenon which, under the widest lati¬ 
 tude of interpretation, could be regarded as equivalent to either 
 of these proposed tests, or any phenomenon which required for 
 its production, or in any manner indicated a force which could 
 technically be denominated Spiritual, or which was hitherto un¬ 
 known to science, or a phenomenon of which the cause was not 
 palpable to the Committee, is, therefore, not entitled to claim 
 from The Boston Courier the proposed premium of $500. 
 
 “It is the opinion of the Committee, derived from observation 
 that any connection with spiritualistic circles, so called, corrupts 
 the morals and degrades the intellect. They therefore deem it 
 their solemn duty to warn the community against this contami¬ 
 nating influence, which surely tends to lessen the truth of man 
 and the purity of woman. 
 
 44 The Committee will publish a report of their proceedings, to¬ 
 gether with the results of additional investigations and other 
 evidence, independent of the special case submitted to them, but 
 bearing upon the subject of this stupendous delusion. 
 
 “Benjamin Pierce, Chairman, 
 “Ls. Agassiz, 
 
 44 B. A. Gould, 
 
 44 E. N. IIORSFOLD. 
 
 44 Cambridge, June 29, 1857.” 
 
THE BAPTIST CHURCH. 
 
 197 
 
 It is most important to history, and should be re¬ 
 corded in full, that Dr. Gardner absolutely and une¬ 
 quivocally testifies that the four learned gentlemen 
 insisted upon rejecting and violating all the laws and 
 conditions by which spirits can influence mediums and 
 demonstrate their presence and power. 
 
 If we mistake not, a similar investigation was had 
 and a similar judgment rendered at Paris some 
 seventy odd years ago, with regard to the alleged phe¬ 
 nomena popularly known as Mesmerism or Animal 
 Magnetism. 
 
 And if we mistake not, a similar opinion or judg¬ 
 ment was pronounced by certain learned Jewish 
 Doctors, some eighteen hundred and sixty years ago, 
 with regard to those now known as the Founder and 
 First Apostles of Christianity. 
 
 We wonder if the Harvard gentlemen ever heard of 
 the Pope’s bull against Galileo and the revolving 
 planets I 
 
 72. 
 
 FATHER ROBINSON EXCOMMUNICATES THE BAPTIST 
 CHURCH. 
 
 Providence, R. I., August 10, 1857. 
 
 The few months past, like all the months of the pre¬ 
 vious two years, have been full of opposition. The ortho¬ 
 dox world has been extremely bitter and wicked. . . . 
 But the progressive work is going forward. To-day’s 
 mail brings a telling letter from Mary’s Father to the 
 
198 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 Orthodox Church. It is entitled to a place in the 
 history of this war :— 
 
 Holley, N. Y., June 22, 1857. 
 
 To my brethren of the Second Freewill Baptist 
 Church, in Clarendon :— 
 
 I wish you to give me a letter of dismissal from your 
 church, for the following reasons :— 
 
 1st. I would not say to you that “ Nature’s Divine Revela¬ 
 tions,” by A. J. Davis, or the “Harmouial Philosophy,” by the 
 same author, are better moral guides than the Bible, or a truer his¬ 
 tory of the “ Creation but I do say, that in my opinion, whatever 
 good Orthodoxy may have done in a ruder state of the world, it 
 has ceased to do any now. Sectarianism can do but little more 
 good if it ever did any. The churches are a dead weight to all 
 reform movements. They fought the Temperance cause till it 
 was made popular by the “Infidel ” world. Indeed, they never 
 have taken hold unitedly in it. So with the Anti-Slavery cause 
 and other reforms. Church members, priests, and laymen, are 
 just as filthy—smoking, chewing, spitting, perhaps drinking and 
 lusting after “filthy lucre ” if not the flesh—as other men. Many 
 of them make the Bible support and sustain Slavery, Polygamy, 
 Intemperance, Popery, Protestantism, and all Sectarianism. 
 
 2d. So then I have come to the firm conviction that the world 
 needs now a new race of Reformers—purer and holier than the 
 Church affords, more philanthropic, loving, and harmonious, less 
 sensual and selfish, requiring less money than it takes to move the 
 sectarian machinery. A new Theology, too, more consistent and 
 rational, more in harmony with natural laws and of more univer¬ 
 sal application than the Orthodox—more vital religion, with less 
 formality, hypocrisy, sanctity and fanaticism—more honesty, with 
 less craft and duplicity—drawn and held together by fitness and 
 mutual attractions instead of creeds. This new class of Re¬ 
 formers should embrace all good and pure men and women, in 
 and out of the Church. 
 
 C. Robin 30N. 
 
TOUCHING STORY. 
 
 199 
 
 73. 
 
 TOUCHING STORY OF TWO POOR LITTLE BOYS. 
 
 Boston, August 12, 1857. 
 
 A morning paper says that the Hon. A. H. Stephens, 
 of Georgia, in a recent address at a meeting in Alexan¬ 
 dria, for the benefit of the Orphan Asylum and Free 
 School of that city, related the following anecdote:— 
 
 “ A poor little boy, in a cold niglit, with no home or roof to 
 shelter his head, no paternal or maternal guardian or guide to 
 protect or direct him on his way, reached at nightfall the house 
 of a wealthy planter, who took him in, fed him, and sent him on 
 his way with his blessing. Those kind attentions cheered his 
 heart, and mspired him with fresh courage to battle with the ob¬ 
 stacles of ife. Years rolled round; Providence led him on, and 
 he had reached the legal profession ; his host died ; the cormo¬ 
 rants that prey on the substance of man had formed a conspiracy 
 to got from the widow her estates. She sent for the nearest coun¬ 
 sel, to commit her cause to him, and that counsel proved to be 
 the orphan boy long before welcomed and entertained by her de¬ 
 ceased husband. The stimulant of warm and tenacious gratitude 
 was now added to the ordinary motive connected with the profes¬ 
 sion. He undertook her cause wdth a will not easily to be resisted ; 
 he gained it; the widow’s estates w'ere secured to her in perpetu¬ 
 ity; and Mr. Stephens added, with an emphasis of emotion that 
 sent an electric thrill throughout the house, that orphan hoy now 
 stands before you." 
 
 It is not always certain that every “ poor little boy” 
 
200 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 will reach the same goal; vet each should strive to de 
 serve the best reward. Not long since we met a para¬ 
 graph to the following effect:—- 
 
 “ I once knew an industrious boy whose parents were poor, but 
 honest. He commenced life in the commercial metropolis with¬ 
 out a cent; he had a wart on his nose, and a sore foot; but, noth¬ 
 ing daunted, he worked with a determination and will, backed by 
 perseverance and energy, and nobly fought his way along, sur¬ 
 mounting every obstacle. . . . Mark the result: Last week I met 
 him for the first time in ten years, and that little boy who com¬ 
 menced life only ten short years ago without a cent, hasn’t got a 
 darned cent yet.” 
 
 74. 
 
 A SCIENTIFIC EXPLANATION OF THE CAUSE OF VISION. 
 
 Providence, R. I., August 17, 1857. 
 
 The learned and distinguished Professor Felton, of 
 Harvard University, has just appeared in the editorial 
 columns of the Boston Courier , as follows:— 
 
 “ Some of the most conspicuous figures in the drama of Spiritu¬ 
 alism, are the trance-mediums or speakers. This form of inspira¬ 
 tion, so far as it is connected with the present state of things, was 
 first introduced, we believe, by a famous Seer, who asserts that he 
 can read the London Times across the ocean as well as a book in 
 his hand. For aught we know, it may be true. We remember 
 once sitting at the side of a singular-looking personage, at a hotel 
 table. Our attention was drawn to him by the extraordinary 
 speed with which the edibles on the table vanished down his ca¬ 
 pacious throat. The raps on the table for fresh supplies resem¬ 
 bled in frequency and vehemence those which are heard in the 
 best constituted spiritual circles. Soup, beef, mutton, poultry, 
 fish, cabbage—in short, nearly every thing on the bill of fare— 
 
NEW ENGLAND MOTHERS. 
 
 201 
 
 cume and were seen no more. We were filled—not with dinner, 
 for wonder held our appetite in suspense—but with amazement. 
 It seemed as if he must be a conjurer. It looked like the 
 performances of Jack the Giant Killer, when he slyly thrusts 
 the enormous pudding into a bag under his waistcoat. We 
 do not usually inquire the names of those whom we chance to 
 meet at hotel tables; but there was something so miraculous in 
 this gentleman’s performances, that curiosity gained the better of 
 reserve, and we were told the great Devourer was Andrew Jack- 
 son Davis. This explained the matter. His trances were now to 
 be traced to their true cause. They are the trances of an anaconda 
 after he has swallowed an ox, horns, hoof, and tail. He has not 
 only his own earthly organism to support, but the spiritualistic 
 organisms of the innumerable higher intelligences.” 
 
 I hope there is no person living who waifs for my 
 positive denial before rejecting the above as a total fab¬ 
 rication. ... I make a note of the statement to 
 show how vulgar a falsehood can emanate from a source 
 high in the estimation of literary gentlemen in Boston. 
 Verily, prejudice blunts the moral sense, and makes 
 intellect an ally of bigotry. 
 
 75. 
 
 THE CONDITION OF NEW ENGLAND MOTHERS. 
 
 Buffalo, N. Y., September 28, 1857. 
 
 We know of no one cause more responsible for what¬ 
 ever there may be of physical degeneracy among the 
 farming population (says a writer in the Atlantic) than 
 the treatment of its child-bearing women; and this 
 after all, is but a result of entire devotion to the tyran¬ 
 ny 
 
202 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 nical idea of labor. If there be one office or charactei 
 higher than all others, it is the office or character of 
 mother. Surely the bringing into existence so mar¬ 
 velous a thing as a human being, and the training of 
 that being until it assumes a recognized relation to God 
 and human society, is a sacred office, and one which 
 does not yield in dignity and importance to any otliei 
 under heaven. For a woman who faithfully fulfils this 
 office, who submits without murmuring to all its pains, 
 who patiently performs its duties, and who exhausts her 
 life in a ceaseless overflow of love upon those whom 
 God has given her, no words can express a true man’s 
 veneration. She claims the homage of our hearts, the 
 service of our hands, the devotion of our lives. 
 
 Yet what is the position of them other in the New 
 England farmer’s home ? The farmer is careful of every 
 animal he possesses. The farm-yard and the stall are 
 replenished with young, by creatures for months dis¬ 
 missed from labor, or handled with intelligent care while 
 carrying their burden ; because the farmer knows that 
 only in this way can he secure improvement, and sound, 
 symmetrical development, to the stock of his farm. 
 In this he is a true, practical philosopher. But what is 
 his treatment of her who bears his children? The 
 same physiological laws apply to her that apply to the 
 brute. Their strict observance is greatly more impera¬ 
 tive, because of her finer organization; yet they are 
 not thought of; and if the farm-yard fail to shame the 
 nursery, if the mother bear beautiful and well organized 
 children, Heaven be thanked for a merciful interference 
 with the operation of its own laws! Is the mother 
 in the farm-house ever regarded as a sacred being ? 
 
JERKS AMONG PRESBYTERIANS. 
 
 20! 
 
 Look at her hands ! Look at her face ! Loo at her 
 bent and clumsy form! Is it more important to raise 
 line colts than line men and women ? Is human life 
 to be made secondary and subordinate to animal life ? 
 Is not she who should receive the tenderest and most 
 considerate ministries of the farmer’s home, in all its 
 appointments and in all its service, made the ceaseless 
 minister and servant of the home and all within it, with 
 utter disregard of her office ? To expect a population 
 to improve greatly under this method is simply to ex¬ 
 pect miracles; and to expect a farmer’s life and a farmer’s 
 home to be attractive where the mother is a drudge, 
 and secures less consideration than the pets of the 
 stall, is to expect impossibilties. 
 
 76. 
 
 JERKS AMONG PRESBYTERIANS, METHODISTS, BAPTISTS, 
 EPISCOPALIANS, QUAKERS, AND INDEPENDENTS. 
 
 Detroit, Mich., October 2, 1857. 
 
 It seems that the different popular religious sects, 
 now so proud and so respectable, in their juvenile days 
 out-jerked the spiritual mediums by considerable! A 
 correspondent gives a description of these singular 
 manifestations among the fashionable Christians. Most 
 physicians regard these twitchings, swoonings, trances, 
 visions, &c., as a nervous affection, produced by a strong 
 impression upon the mind, and think there is a sympa¬ 
 thetic influence making them contagious to some 
 
204 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 extent. The facts connected with their appearance are 
 as follows:— 
 
 “Five or six weeks since, during a protracted meeting held by 
 the Methodists at Indian Grove, several persons were seized im¬ 
 mediately after conversion, with what are called the jerks; that 
 is, a contraction and expansion of the muscles that caused the 
 arms to move suddenly either horizontally, up and down, or 
 obliquely, and with such a rapid motion that it convinced every 
 one that it was done involuntarily. 
 
 “ After the lapse of a few weeks, a similar meeting was com¬ 
 menced at Avoca, and with similar results. Each evening, for 
 several evenings, the number of jerkers increased, until it is sup¬ 
 posed that there were as many as fifty seized with this strange 
 disease, and what makes it seem quite singular is, each one dif¬ 
 fered from another in jerking; no two jerked precisely alike. 
 One was seen jumping violently with both feet—another danc¬ 
 ing—another shaking the head—another reeling backward and 
 forward—another still from side to side—some jerked both hands 
 and feet, and others performed strange convulsions indescribable; 
 some clapped their hands—one laughed heartily—another made 
 a noise similar to a puppy, and yet another gave forth a chuckle 
 similar to demoniac. The dancing, clapping of hands, and some 
 other motions, were called forth generally only as the shouting 
 and responding became boisterous. 
 
 “All this was witnessed by hundreds, and yet not one who 
 was a close observer will declare that he thinks any of this 
 feigned or within the power of the victim of these strange phe¬ 
 nomena to control. Indeed, persons from time to time seized the 
 jerkers by the arm and tried to prevent it, but found it impos¬ 
 sible. Many of them, at home or abroad, asleep or awake, were 
 in motion. None of them seemed at all insane—they were gen¬ 
 erally of a happy frame of mind, and some declared they were 
 never so happy as when jerking hardest. So intensely were 
 some of them exerted, and so violent the action of their limbs, 
 that when in meeting, water had to be passed constantly to them, 
 while the perspiration incessantly rolled down their c’jeeks.” 
 
JERKS AMONG i'EESBYTKRIANS. 
 
 205 
 
 Goodrich (Peter Parley), in his interesting “ Recol- 
 lections of a Lifetime,” vol. I., page 200, &c., gives 
 some curious items concerning the jerks which pre¬ 
 vailed in the early days of Methodism in Kentucky 
 and Tennessee, at the beginning of the present cen¬ 
 tury. 
 
 “ At the religious gatherings,” says he, “ whether in 
 dwellings and churches, or in the open woods and fields, 
 persons would be suddenly taken with certain irresist¬ 
 ible spasms, inciting them to the most strange and 
 extravagant performances. Some would bark like dogs, 
 and attempt to climb the ti’ees, declaring that they 
 were treeing the devil. Some had delicious trances; 
 others danced as if beset with sudden frenzy; others 
 still were agitated by violent and revolting convulsions 
 and twitchings, which obtained the popular name of 
 jerks. All classes of persons who came within the 
 atmosphere of the mania, Methodists, Presbyterians, 
 and Quakers, men and women, became subjects of these 
 extraordinary agitations. I recollect to have heard the 
 late Thomas H. Gallaudet say that, when a young man, 
 he visited one of the meetings where these phenomena 
 were taking place, and that he felt within himself an 
 almost uncontrollable temptation to imitate some of the 
 strange antics that were going on around him.” 
 
 Howe’s Great West mentions the same occurrence, 
 stating that the first instances occurred at a sacrament 
 in East Tennessee, and that “ the contagion even spread 
 to Ohio, among the sober people of the Western Re¬ 
 serve.” 
 
 The celebrated Lorenzo Dow has an interesting 
 account of the jerks :— 
 
206 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 “Sunday, February 19, I spoke in Knoxville, to hundreds 
 more than could get into the court-house—the Governor being 
 present. About one hundred and fifty appeared to have jerking 
 exercise, among whom was a circuit preacher (Johnson), who 
 had opposed them a little before, but he now had them power¬ 
 fully ; and I believe he would have fallen over three times, had 
 not the auditory been so crowded that he could not, unless he 
 fell perpendicularly. 
 
 “After meeting, I rode eighteen miles to hold meeting at night. 
 The people of this settlement were mostly Quakers, and they had 
 said, as I was informed, that ‘the Methodists and Presbyterians 
 have the jerks because they sing and pray so much ; but we are 
 a still, peaceable people, wherefore we do not have them;’ how¬ 
 ever, about twenty of them came to meeting, to hear one, as was 
 said, somewhat in a Quaker line. But their usual stillness and 
 silence was interrupted, for about a dozen of them had the jerks 
 as keen and as powerful as any I had seen, so as to have occa¬ 
 sioned a kind of grunt or groan when they would jerk. It ap¬ 
 pears that many have undervalued the Great Revival, and 
 attempted to account for it altogether on natural principles; 
 therefore it seems to me, from the best judgment I can form, 
 that God hath seen proper to take this method to convince peo¬ 
 ple that he will work in a way to show his power, and sent the 
 jerks as a sign of the times, partly in judgment for the people’s 
 unbelief, and yet as a mercy to convict people of divine realities. 
 
 “I have seen Presbyterians, Methodists, Quakers, Baptists, 
 Church of England, and Independents, exercised with the jerks. 
 Gentleman and lady, white and black, the aged and the youth, 
 rich and poor, without exception; from which I infer, as it can 
 not be accounted for on natural principles, and carries such 
 marks of involuntary motion, that it is no trifling matter. I be¬ 
 lieve that they who were the most pious and given up to God are 
 rarely touched with it; and also those naturalists, who wish and 
 try to get it to philosophize upon it, are excepted; but the luke¬ 
 warm, lazy, half-hearted, indolent professor is subject to it; and 
 many of them I have seen, who, when it came upon them, would 
 be alarmed, and stirred up to redouble their diligence with God. 
 
JERKS AMONG PRESBYTERIAN'S. 
 
 207 
 
 and after they would get happy, were thankful that it ever came 
 upon them. Again, the wicked are frequently more afraid of it 
 than the small-pox or yellow fever. These are subject to it; but 
 the persecutors are more subject to it than any, and they some¬ 
 times have cursed and swore and damned it whilst jerking. 
 There is no pain attending the jerks except they resist them, 
 which, if they do, it will weary them more in an hour than a 
 day’s labor, which shows that it requires the consent of the will 
 to avoid suffering. 
 
 “ I passed by a meeting-house, where I observed the under¬ 
 growth had been cut up for a camp-meeting, and from fifty to 
 one hundred saplings left breast-high, which to me appeared so 
 Slovenish that I could not but ask my guide the cause, who ob¬ 
 served they were topped so high, and left for the peeple to jerk 
 by. This so excited my attention that I went over the ground 
 to view it, and found, where the people had laid hold of them 
 and jerked so powerfully, that they had kicked up the earth as 
 a horse stamping flies. I observed some emotion both this day 
 and night among the people. A Presbyterian minister (with 
 whom I stayed) observed: ‘ Yesterday, whilst I was speaking, 
 some had the jerks, and a young man from North Carolina 
 mimicked them out of derision, and soon was seized with them 
 himself (which was the case with many others). He grew 
 ashamed, and on attempting to mount his horse to go off, his foot 
 jerked about so that he could not put it into the stirrup. Some 
 youngsters seeing this, assisted him on, but he jerked so that he 
 could not sit alone, and one got up to hold him on, which was 
 done with difficulty. I, observing this, went to him, and asked 
 him what he thought of it. Said he, ‘ I believe God sent it on 
 me for my wickedness, and making light of it in others and 1 e 
 requested me to pray for him.” 
 
208 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 7V. 
 
 THE ABOMINABLE TEACHINGS OF SPIRITUALISM. 
 
 Battle Creek, Micii., October 14,1857 
 
 A great friend of Methodism, and one who edits a 
 journal in the interests of Christ, opens thus :— 
 
 Fromapaper entitled the Illuminati , published under 
 the auspices of the Spiritualists, we take the following: 
 
 The third annual meeting of a so-called Religious Association 
 was held at North Collins, Erie County, New York, on the 25th, 
 26th, and 27th of September last. From the minutes of its pro¬ 
 ceedings, as published in the Age of Progress , we learn that 
 Andrew J. and Mary F. Davis were prominent among the speakers 
 on the occasion. The following among other declarations, or 
 “ testimonies.” indicates the doctrine of Mr. and Mrs. Davis: — 
 
 Woman and Marriage. — Resolved , That woman, being the 
 mother of the world and a coequal with man in the heritage of 
 immortality, should be favored with every advantage enjoyed by 
 her brother, for physical, intellectual, and moral education or de¬ 
 velopment; that all civil and political privileges and emoluments 
 should be as accessible to her as to man ; that the same remunera¬ 
 tion should be granted to her as to her brother for the same kind 
 and amount of labor; and that, in the marriage relation, she 
 should be fully secured in her natural rights to property, to the 
 legal custody of her children, and to the entire control of her 
 own person, that thereby fewer and better children may be born, 
 and humanity be improved and elevated. 
 
 This same editor and follower of the New Testament, 
 after quoting the above resolution, says :—“ A. J. Davis 
 claims to have sprung from monkeys and babcons ; and 
 
man’s cruelty to women. 
 
 209 
 
 certainly his doctrine is worthy of such an ancestry. Yet 
 this wretch in human form claims to be a reformer, and 
 it is a mournful commentary on the state of public 
 morals that he has numerous followers. . . . The whole 
 vile breed are fit only for a lunatic asylum. This mis¬ 
 erable delusion is styled by its victims ‘ the new reli¬ 
 gion.’ Such a religion is, in the strongest possible sense, 
 ‘ earthly, sensual, and devilish.’ To every pure mind 
 it is loathsome and disgusting to the last degree. The 
 man, and still more the woman, that will publicly teach 
 such doctrines, should be shunned, as we would shun 
 the devil, whose servants they are. When one is fairly 
 drawn into the vortex of this abominable delusion, there 
 is no hope for him. It is a leprosy which defies all cure. 
 It is a signing, sealing, and delivering of the soul to 
 Satan, beyond all redemption. When will the commu¬ 
 nity have sense enough and moral principle enough to 
 shun these ‘filthy dreamers ?’ Their very touch is pol¬ 
 luting, and the ‘ poison of asps is under their tongues.’ ” 
 
 VS. 
 
 VARIOUS FORMS OF MAN’S CRUELTY TO WOMAN. 
 
 Battle Creek, Mich., October 18, 1857 
 
 An article in the last number of the North British 
 Review contains some strong remarks on the outrages 
 which women in all classes of society endure. The 
 writer contrasts the so-called “ brutality of the lower 
 orders ” with the heartlessness of “ the higher orders,” 
 and shows that blows inflicted on the body are not 
 
210 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 always the worst forms of outrage. Brutality is a 
 common trait among the ignorant and degraded poor 
 of England, and wife-beating is an offense of daily 
 report in the English police courts. But the writer in 
 the Review draws a picture of a class, who, though they 
 do not beat their wives, treat them still more cruelly :— 
 
 Men of education and refinement do not strike women ; neither 
 do they strike one another. This is not their mode of expressing 
 resentment. They may utter words more cutting than sharp 
 knives; they may do things more stunning in their effects on the 
 victim than the blows of pokers or hammers ; they may kill their 
 wives by process of slow torture—unkindness, infidelity, what¬ 
 ever shape it may assume—and society will forgive them. The 
 law, too, has nothing to say to them. They are not guilty of 
 what is recognized as an assault, because they only assail the 
 affections—only lacerate the heart. They speak with horror of 
 the “brutal wretches” who inflict on women blows, less painful 
 at the time, and less abiding in their effects. But is their treat¬ 
 ment of women any better than that of these ruffians? Have 
 they any higher sense of what is due to womanhood ? They 
 would not besmear a fair face with blood; but they would set a 
 tender heart bleeding until it can bleed no more. They would 
 not mar the beauty of God’s handiwork ; but they would soil the 
 purity of a virgin soul. 
 
 And here is a terrible and true accusation, entirely 
 outside and beyond the spiritualistic movement:— 
 
 There are various forms of man’s cruelty to women, of which 
 wife-beating, we are afraid, is not the worst. To seduce, betray, 
 and desert a young and beautiful woman, in the first freshness 
 and innocence of youth—to leave her to die slowly of hunger 
 disease, or gin, or suddenly, by a leap, on a cold winter’s night, 
 from the parapet of a bridge spanning the Thames, is to do what 
 must be done amongst us on a much larger scale than wife-beat¬ 
 ing—else whence all these evidences of the “great sin of great 
 cities?” and it is to do it oyiietly and deliberately, under no irre- 
 
MARRIAGE AND PARENTAGE. 
 
 211 
 
 sistible provocation, and witli none of those attendant excuses or 
 palliations which are not unfairly pleaded on behalf of the poor, 
 uneducated, ignorant man, whose neglected childhood and mis¬ 
 guided youth are naturally and necessarily followed by a brutal¬ 
 ized manhood. 
 
 79. 
 
 WANTED—MORE KNOWLEDGE CONCERNING MARRIAGE 
 AND PARENTAGE. 
 
 Aurora, III., October 22, 185V. 
 
 I wonder why really just and intelligent mothers 
 and fathers do not take more interest in the laws of true 
 
 harmonial marriage.I suppose they are 
 
 frightened by Christian editors, who cry: “ Behold! 
 
 the abominable teachings of Spiritualism.”. 
 
 O, when will the mass rise superior to their own foolish 
 prejudices ? Domestic vices and evils are to be totally 
 destroyed by the teachings of Spiritualism. Read this 
 testimony:— 
 
 In one of the New England States lives a lad, now 
 about twelve or thirteen years of age, whose condition 
 is a most remarkable demonstration of the natural law 
 that, in every case, the child is a very faithful copy 
 of his parents. 
 
 The boy is a natural drunkard. From his birthday 
 to the present moment, he has given all the outward 
 indications of being deeply drunk ; and yet, so far as I 
 know, or think it probable, he has never swallowed a 
 drop of ardent spirits in his life. Though in good 
 sound health, he has never been able to walk without 
 
MEMORANDA. 
 
 212 
 
 staggering. His head is always upon his breast; and 
 his speech is of that peculiar character which marks a 
 person in a very low stage of intoxication. If, never¬ 
 theless, in the midst of his mutterings and reelings 
 something is said to him in a way to pass through the 
 thick atmosphere of his intellectual being, and penetrate 
 his mind, he at once rouses, like a common tippler, and 
 gives proof enough that he is notwantingin native talents, 
 however his mental faculties are enshrouded. His dis¬ 
 position, also, seems to be extremely amiable. He is 
 kind to every one around him ; and I may add, he is 
 not only pitied for his misfortune, but in spite of his 
 lamentable condition, regarded with uncommon interest. 
 He is looked upon as a star of no mean magnitude, 
 obscured and almost blotted out by the mist in which 
 he is doomed to dwell, until he shall pass from the 
 present state of existence to another. 
 
 How, as I understand the law of hereditary descent, 
 there is nothing unnatural in this boy’s case. Every 
 individual ever born, is governed by the same principle 
 Avhich caused him to be what he is. Prior to marriage 
 his father had been a secret but confirmed inebriate; 
 and when the fact became known to the gentle and 
 sweet-spirited being, who but a few months before had 
 become his wife, the revelation was made suddenly, and 
 in a way the most impressive and appalling. One 
 night, when he was supposed to be the most unimpeach¬ 
 able of husbands, he staggered home, broke through the 
 door of his sleeping apartment, and fell down on the 
 floor in a state of wretched inebriation. For weeks he 
 wallowed in misery. During the next six or seven 
 months, seeing his domestic reputation had been for- 
 
MARRIAGE AND PARENTAGE. 
 
 213 
 
 feited, he kept up also a continuous scene of intoxica¬ 
 tion. When, at the end of this period, it was told him 
 that he was the husband of a mother,” he reeled and 
 staggered on without much abatement. Months passed 
 away; but there occurred no change in the habits of 
 the poor inebriate. It was at once discovered, however, 
 that there was something singular in the appearance of 
 the child. When it was three months old, there began 
 to be strange speculations respecting it among the 
 people. At the age of six months these speculations 
 had settled down into a very general opinion, but not 
 a word was said to the disconsolate woman who had 
 also begun to have her own forebodings. At last, as 
 she was one evening looking upon her child, and won¬ 
 dering what could be the reason of its strange conduct, 
 the terrible idea flashed upon her soul—‘‘My child is a 
 natural drunkard !” She shrieked aloud; and her hus¬ 
 band, who happened to be within hearing, came to her. 
 She fell upon his neck, and exclaimed, “ Dear husband, 
 our little George is born a ——” She could proceed 
 no further, but swooned away in her husband's arms. 
 
 From that hour the father of the boy never tasted a 
 drop of intoxicating drinks. The sight of his eyes and 
 the heavings of his heart entirely cured him of his habit. 
 He seldom looks upon his unfortunate little George 
 without shedding a tear over that sin which entailed 
 upon him a life of obscurity and of wretchedness. He 
 has lived, I rejoice to add, so as to redeem his character, 
 and he is now the father of flve children, all of whom 
 are bright, and beautiful, and lovely, excepting only the 
 one whose destiny was thus blasted. 
 
 This principle of inheriting traits and characteristics, 
 
214 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 however, is susceptible of an indefinite number of illus¬ 
 trations. It has become a proverb, and it is sustained 
 by all history and observation, that the offspring of 
 libidinous connections are uniformly marked with ten¬ 
 dencies to strong passions. With a world full of such 
 or similar cases, it seems incredible that men and 
 Avomen should longer refuse to investigate the laws of 
 marriage aud parentage. 
 
 80. 
 
 IMPORTANT TESTIMONY OF FATHER ROBINSON. 
 
 Waukegan, III., December 16, 1857. 
 
 We have been lecturing before large audiences for 
 
 many weeks.The newspapers, especially 
 
 those under the management of self-styled Christians, 
 are excessively abusive and malicious. A mass of out¬ 
 rageous charges, made by the editor of the Waukegan 
 Gazette , has brought out from Mary’s justice-loving 
 father the following reply :— 
 
 To the Editor ;****** Head the 
 “Magic Staff” [The Autobiography of A. J. Davis], 
 and there find a truthful relation of his first perilous 
 adventure in this direction, and his reception at the 
 “ Robinson House,” and among the relatives, the oppo¬ 
 sition and indignation he had to brave. And why all 
 this? What troubled so many of us? Just what 
 troubles the Gazette now, and all other ranting oppos- 
 ers—simply that we were then and they are still ortho- 
 
FROM FATHER ROBINSON. 
 
 215 
 
 dox believers, and Mr. Davis was a disbeliever—infidel, 
 heretic, “moral leper!” 
 
 We partook somewhat of this same sectarian preju¬ 
 dice—hence the cold shoulder, almost indignity, which 
 he met with. Nothing else. We had heard of the 
 strange phenomenon down at Poughkeepsie ; a young 
 infidel, insinuating infidel doctrines, he would contami¬ 
 nate us all, especially his intended ; did not believe in the 
 divine record ! Horrible! Away with him! Crucify 
 him! His approach to our family was felt to be like 
 that of a huge dragon with seven heads, two tails, and 
 ten horns, about to pitch in among us! and for this 
 reason only—this was the sum of his offending. We 
 knew nothing against him otherwise. He appeared like 
 a gentleman ; and I think lie must have had his magic 
 staff with him, and used it as he alleges, else he could 
 
 not have endured his treatment so patiently. 
 
 The ground of most, if not all, the opposition to them 
 and their labors, is religious intolerance ! 
 
 Said I to a clergyman here not long since, “Fowler 
 and Combe are great guides on the subject of life and 
 health.” He retorted sharply, “ They are infidels, dis¬ 
 believers in the Bible, A. J. Davis with them—all of one 
 school.” Hence the inference is that their words and 
 works are worthless. This is the spirit of Bible ortho¬ 
 doxy—of sectarianism. “ Work in my harness, or die!” 
 They are afraid to have the claims of the Bible dis¬ 
 cussed—it must not be—hands off. So, children are 
 taught and made to believe—hence they never put off’ 
 childish things—orthodoxy and sectarianism are in dan¬ 
 ger from the new philosophy, and it must be resisted ; 
 and where argument fails, a resort to personalities is 
 
216 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 had, and the believers in the “Father of lies” invent 
 falsehoods to ruin the reputation of reformers, and limit 
 their influence. It is said by this editor that Mr. Davis 
 at a certain time “ came near being mobbed.” Perhaps 
 it was at the Hartford Bible Convention, the first gath¬ 
 ering, I suppose, in this, or any other country, to dis¬ 
 cuss and question the claims of the Bible, which barely 
 escaped being mobbed by the Orthodox Bible believers 
 there assembled—Mr. Davis being a member of that 
 convention. 
 
 Mother Earth, by the fruits of this intolerance, is paved 
 with human skeletons, both pagan and Christian, Ma¬ 
 hometan and Jew.Mines of treasure have 
 
 been expended, in the shape of money, time, and labor, 
 in building temples of worship, educating and support¬ 
 ing a priesthood, all for the soul’s eternal interest, after 
 the Bible pattern. Now let this vast tide of wealth 
 take a new direction—be applied more to the bodily 
 comforts—the physical and mental wants of man—to 
 remodel society—reform, refine, and elevate the race— 
 promote and extend the universal brotherhood and sis¬ 
 terhood of man—prepare him to live right here, and 
 the hereafter will take care of itself. 
 
 C. Robinson.* 
 
 * Mary's father, whose entire earthly life was one of physical and 
 mental industry, crowned with truth and honor, has taken up his resi¬ 
 dence in the Summer Land. If the reader would seek more ample testi¬ 
 mony than we have given in the brief extract, it may be found in a livtla 
 family volume entitled “Father Robinson’s Scrap Book.’* 
 
MURDER BY BIBLE BEIJEVER8. 
 
 217 
 
 81 . 
 
 MURDER COMMITTED BY BIBLE BELIEVERS. 
 
 New York, December 14, 1859. 
 
 The religious papers of this country have been filled 
 with horrible stories of dark deeds committed by spirit¬ 
 ualists—mere fabrications; while the Tribune gives 
 a case of real crime committed by full believers in 
 “ hell,” “ devil,” and all the great “ cardinal ” points of 
 orthodoxy:— 
 
 'The late strange murder at New Haven seems to 
 have grown out of a religious delusion very singular in 
 its particular details, but in its general character suffi¬ 
 ciently common. The Widow Wakeman, the woman 
 on whose behalf it was perpetrated ; Elder Sly, the 
 man who committed it; Justus Matthews, the man who 
 was murdered, and the four other persons who were in 
 the house at the time of the murder, and who if they 
 did not actually assist in it, knew of it, and connived 
 at it, all appear to have been wretched victims of a 
 hallucination falling little if any thing short of in¬ 
 sanity. 
 
 The Widow Wakeman was believed by her followers, 
 and doubtless believed herself, to be a person who had 
 risen from the dead and had been sent as a special 
 “messenger” to redeem the world. The very exist- 
 10 
 
2i3 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 ence of the world was indeed believed to be bound up 
 in her life, since it was imagined that immediately 
 upon her death the end of the earth and the “Judg¬ 
 ment ”—of which these persons seem to have had a great 
 deal—would follow. But with all her supernatural 
 gifts and graces, the Widow Wakeman, as usually hap¬ 
 pens in such legends, had also a supernatural enemy to 
 encounter—no less a one, indeed, than the “ devil ” him¬ 
 self, or at least one of his imps. This evil spirit, it was 
 believed, had first taken possession of the body of one 
 Hunt, who, it is alleged, had unsuccessfully tried to 
 poison the “ messenger ” with arsenic. Next, this evil 
 spii’it was supposed to have passed into the person of 
 Justus Matthews, the man upon whom the murder was 
 perpetrated. Having thus become the “ man of sin,” 
 Matthews was accused, not, indeed, of any overt acts of 
 personal violence, but of bewitching the “messenger” 
 with his eyes, and in that way greatly distressing her, 
 and even endangering her precious life, and thereby 
 the duration of the world. Matthews himself seemed 
 fully to have believed in the fact of his being thus pos¬ 
 sessed, and of exercising this malign power. He was 
 anxious to have the evil spirit driven out of him, and 
 for that purpose came to Sly’s house in New Haven, 
 where the Widow Wakeman lived, and where was the 
 scene of her religious teachings and exercises. He 
 there submitted to be blindfolded and to have his hands 
 tied behind him, keeping himself retired in a room 
 below, apart from the rest, who were singing and pray¬ 
 ing above. If the witnesses are to be believed, he even 
 expressed a willingness to die if the evil spirit could 
 not otherwise be driven from him, and the precious 
 
MURDER RY RLDLE RELIEVERS. 
 
 219 
 
 health and life of the “ messenger ” secured. Elder 
 Slj appears to have been perfectly satisfied that noth¬ 
 ing short of the death of Matthews would answer; and 
 while the others were going ou with their religious ex¬ 
 ercises, he proceeded to murder him, with the full 
 knowledge and consent of the rest, and apparently at 
 the express instigation of the Widow Wakeman. 
 
 A bloody tragedy of this sort, enacted under the very 
 eaves, as it were, of Yale College, in the intelligent, 
 enlightened and pious city of New Haven, must strike 
 every one who hears of it with a sudden and creeping 
 horror. Yet the sort of delusion out of which it grew 
 is by no means rare or uncommon. In what did that 
 delusion differ, we should like to ask, from that which 
 has made so many ecclesiastics believe not only that 
 they had power, both in earth and heaven, to bind and 
 to loose, but also that it was their right to deliver over 
 the enemies of the Church to the secular arm to be put 
 to death ? In what does this delusion differ except in 
 its bloody catastrophe—nor does even that difference 
 always exist—from that which makes up the staple of 
 the innumerable miraculous legends of the Middle 
 Ages? We have chosen this example, not because the 
 Middle Ages by any means had a monopoly of these de¬ 
 lusions, but because it is more agreeable to contemplate 
 the faults of other people than our own. 
 
220 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 sa. 
 
 MISS LIZZIE DOTEN BEFORE THE PEOPLE. 
 
 New York, October 17, 1864. 
 
 Something this morning makes me recall that not 
 long since I for the first time saw Miss Lizzie Doten on 
 the platform.This slender, graceful, spir¬ 
 
 itual, prophetic-looking woman, whose voice, sweet 
 and clear, rings out fearlessly, is exerting a wide and 
 lasting influence on the thousands who listen to her 
 utterances. She accomplishes more spiritual labor, and 
 endures annually more bodily fatigue, in journeying 
 from city to city, than a phrenologist or a physiologist 
 would consider possible. . . . She is the very soul 
 
 of earnestness and lucidity in thought, and the author, 
 under inspiration, of numerous poetic compositions, sur¬ 
 passingly opulent in deep truth and excellence, but 
 remarkable, chiefly, for a kind of ethereal penetration 
 into the secret springs of human character, feelings, im¬ 
 pulses, and motives. Her pale complexion, black and 
 glossy hair, dark, and singularly-expressive eyes—the 
 entire atmosphere of her face and figure—impress me 
 with the feeling that every word she speaks is the coin 
 of a mind that has thought and struggled in earnest. 
 . . . I do not wonder that so real, and yet shadowy, 
 
 a genius as Poe, should, from his higher life and still 
 
THE CHILDREN’S LYCEUM. 
 
 221 
 
 mystic wanderings, seek to impress this serious, logical, 
 metaphysical, poetic mind. .... This brilliant- 
 minded woman, with her earnest and clear perception 
 of truth, is certain to enrich the world. And I hope 
 the world will have wit enough to kindly accept it. 
 
 83. 
 
 PICNIC EXCURSION OF THE CHILDREN’S LYCEUM. 
 
 New York, October 18, 1864. 
 
 A few days ago I attended the Annual Excursion and 
 Picnic of the children, parents, and members of the 
 New York Society of Progressive Spiritualists. The 
 day was perfect, everybody seemed delighted, and the 
 whole party returned to the city and to their homes, 
 without the least accident or discord to mar the pleas¬ 
 ures and memories of the occasion. Fancy, then, my 
 unutterable astonishment, not to say indignation, when, 
 on taking up the Springfield (Mass.) Republican this 
 morning, I read :— 
 
 “At a recent spiritual picnic near New York, seven women 
 were brutally outraged, two men killed, five wounded, and four¬ 
 teen robbed, not only of their watches and portemonnaies, but 
 of their clothes, so that they were compelled to hide in the woods 
 all night.” 
 
 The editorial staff of the Republican is composed of 
 scholarly and Christian gentlemen. They are members 
 of the churches popularly termed “ Orthodox,” and they 
 are publishing an influential journal. But is it not a 
 
222 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 new problem in morals, how it is possible for such gen¬ 
 tlemen to perpetrate the foregoing absolutely disgusting 
 and horrible falsehood ? 
 
 84. 
 
 THE WORLD BROUGHT TO JUDGMENT. 
 
 New York, October 19, 1864. 
 
 The following thrilling “Moral Police” vision was 
 described, as I am informed, by an English gentleman, 
 who has more than once furnished evidence that he is, 
 at times, both a medium and a seer :— 
 
 I saw a mighty Spirit traversing the world without 
 rest or pause. It was omnipresent, it was all-powerful, 
 it had no compunction, no pity, no relenting sense that 
 any appeal from any of the race of men could reach. 
 It was invisible to every creature born upon the earth, 
 save once to each. It turned its shaded face on what¬ 
 soever living thing, one time; and straight the end of 
 that thing was come. It passed through the forest, 
 and the vigorous tree it looked on shrunk away; through 
 the garden, and the leaves perished and the flowers 
 withered ; through the air, and the eagles flagged upon 
 the wing, and dropped ; through the sea, and the mon¬ 
 sters of the deep floated, great wrecks, upon the waters. 
 It met the eyes of lions in their lairs, and they were 
 dust; its shadow darkened the faces of young children 
 lying asleep, and they awoke no more. 
 
 It had its work appointed; it inexorably did w T hat 
 was appointed to it to do ; and neither sped nor slack- 
 
BROUGH ' TO JUDGMENT. 
 
 223 
 
 ened. Called to, it went on unmoved, and did not 
 come. Besought, by some who felt that it was drawing 
 near, to change its course, it turned its shaded face 
 upon them, even while they cried, and they were dumb. 
 It passed into the midst of palace chambers, where there 
 were lights and music, pictures, diamonds, gold, and 
 silver; crossed the wrinkled and the gray, regardless 
 of them; looked into the eyes of a bright bride, and 
 vanished. It revealed itself to the baby on the old 
 crone’s knee, and left the old crone wailing by the lire. 
 But whether the beholder of its face were now a king, 
 or now a laborer; now a queen, or now a seamstress, 
 let the hand it palsied be on the scepter or the plow, 
 or yet too small and nerveless to grasp any thing, the 
 Spirit never paused in its appointed work, and, sooner 
 or later, turned its impartial face on all. 
 
 I saw a Minister of State sitting in his closet, and 
 round about him, rising from the country which he 
 governed, up to the eternal heavens, was a low, dull 
 howl of ignorance. It was a wild, inexplicable mutter, 
 confused, but full of threatening, and it made all hear¬ 
 ers’ hearts to quake within them. But, few heard. In 
 the single city where this Minister of State was seated, 
 I saw thirty thousand children, hunted, flogged, im¬ 
 prisoned, but not taught—who might have been nur¬ 
 tured by the wolf or bear, so little of humanity had 
 they, within them or without—all joining in this dole¬ 
 ful cry. And, ever among them, as among all ranks 
 and grades of mortals, in all parts of the globe, the 
 Spirit went; and ever by thousands in their brutish 
 state, with all the gifts of God perverted in their br easts 
 or trampled on, they died. 
 
224 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 The Minister of State, whose heart was pierced bj 
 even the little he could hear of these terrible voices, 
 day and night rising to heaven, went among the priests , 
 and teachers of all denominations, and faintly said:— 
 
 “ Harken to this dreadful cry ! what shall we do to 
 stay it ?” 
 
 One body of respondents answered, “ Teach this!” 
 
 Another said, “ Teach that!” 
 
 Another said, “ Teach neither this nor that, but 
 the other 1” 
 
 Another quarreled with all the three ; twenty others 
 quarreled with all the four, and quarreled no less bit¬ 
 terly among themselves. The voices, not stayed by 
 this, cried out day and night; and still among those 
 many thousands, as among all mankind, went the Spirit 
 who never rested from its labor; and still, in brutish 
 sort, they died. 
 
 Then a whisper murmured to the Minister of State :— 
 
 “ Correct this for thyself. Be bold! Silence these 
 voices, or virtuously lose thy power in the attempt to 
 do it. Thou canst not sow a grain of good seed in vain. 
 Thou knowest it well. Be bold, and do thy duty!” 
 
 The minister shrugged his shoulders, and replied:— 
 
 “ It is a great wrong— but it will last my time.” And 
 so he put it from him. 
 
 Then the whisper went among the priests and teach¬ 
 ers, saying to each : “ In thy soul thou knowest it is a 
 truth, O man, that there are good things to be taught, 
 and stay this cry.” 
 
 To which each answered in like manner :—“It is a 
 great wrong— but it will last my time.” And so he 
 put it from him. 
 
BROUGHT TO JUDGMENT. 
 
 225 
 
 I saw a poisoned air, in which life drooped. I saw 
 disease, arrayed in all its store of hideous aspects and 
 appalling shapes, triumphant in every alley, by-way 
 court, back street, and poor abode, in every place where 
 human beings congregated—in the proudest and most 
 boastful places most of all. I saw innumerable hosts, 
 foredoomed to darkness, dirt, pestilence, obscenity, 
 misery, and early death. I saw, wheresoever I looked, 
 cunning preparations made for defacing the Creator’s 
 image, from the moment of its appearance here on 
 earth, and stamping over it the image of the devil. I 
 saw from those reeking and pernicious stews, the 
 avenging consequences of such sin issuing forth, and 
 penetrating to the highest places. I saw the rich struck 
 down in their strength, their darling children weakened 
 and withered, their marriageable sons and daughters 
 perish in their prime. I saw that not one miserable 
 wretch breathed out his poisoned life in the deepest 
 cellar of the most neglected town; but, from the sur¬ 
 rounding atmosphere some particles of his infection 
 were borne away, charged with heavy retribution on 
 the general guilt. 
 
 There w r ere many attentive and alarmed persons 
 looking on, who saw these things too ; they were well 
 clothed, and had purses in their pockets; they were 
 educated, full of kindness, and loved mercy. They said 
 to one another, u This is horrible, and shall not be!” 
 And there was a stir among them to set it right. 
 
 But, opposed to these, came a small multitude of 
 noisy fools and greedy knaves, whose harvest was in 
 such horrors; and they, with impudence and turmoil, 
 and with scurrilous jests at misery and deadi, re 
 *10 
 
226 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 pelled the better lookers-on, who soon fell back, and 
 stood aloof. 
 
 Then the whisper went among those better lookers- 
 on, saying, “ Over the bodies of those fellows, to the 
 remedy!” 
 
 But each of them moodily shrugged his shoulders, 
 and replied :—“ It is a great wrong —but it will last 
 my time !” And so they put it from them. 
 
 I saw a great library of laws and law proceedings, so 
 complicated, costly, and unintelligible, that, although 
 numbers of lawyers united in a public fiction that these 
 were wonderfully just and equal, there was scarcely an 
 honest man among them, but who said to his friend, 
 privately consulting him, “ Better put up with a fraud 
 or other injury, than grope for redress through the 
 manifold blind turnings and strange chances of this 
 system.” 
 
 I saw a portion of the system, called (of all things) 
 equity, which was ruin to suitors, ruin to property, a 
 shield for wrong-doers having money, a rack for right- 
 doers, having none ; a by-word for delay, slow agony 
 of mind, despair, impoverishment, trickery, confusion, 
 insupportable injustice—a main part of it. I saw pris¬ 
 oners wasting in jail; mad people in hospitals; suicides 
 chronicled in the yearly records ; orphans robbed of 
 their inheritance ; infants righted (perhaps) when they 
 were gray. 
 
 Certain lawyers and laymen came together, and said 
 to one another :—“ In only one of these, our Courts of 
 Equity, there are years of this dark perspective before 
 us at the present moment. We must change this.” 
 
 Uprose, immediately, a throng of others—secretaries, 
 
BROUGHT TO JUDGMENT. 
 
 227 
 
 petty bags, hanapers, chaff-waxes, and what not, sing¬ 
 ing (in answer), “ Rule Britannia,” and “ God save 
 the Queen making flourishing speeches, pronounced 
 hard names, demanding committees, commissions, com¬ 
 missioners, and other scarecrows, and territying the lit¬ 
 tle band of innovators out of their flve wits. 
 
 Then the whisper went among the latter, as they 
 shrunk back, saying, “ If there is any wrong within the 
 universal knowledge, this wrong is; Go on! Set it 
 right!” 
 
 Whereon, each of them sorrowfully thrust his hands 
 in his pockets, and replied :—“ It is, indeed, a great 
 wrong— BUT IT will last my time !” And so they put 
 it from them. 
 
 The Spirit, with its face concealed, summoned all the 
 people who had used this phrase about their Time, into 
 its presence. Then it said, beginning with the Minister 
 of State:— 
 
 “ Of what duration is your time ?” 
 
 The Minister of State replied, “ My ancient family 
 has always been long-lived. My father died at eighty- 
 four; my grandfather at ninety-two. We have the 
 gout, but bear it (like our honors) many years.” 
 
 “ And you,” said the Spirit to the priest and teachers, 
 “ what may your time be ?” 
 
 Some believed that they were so strong, as that they 
 should number many more years than threescore and 
 ten ; others were the sons of old incumbents, who had 
 long outlived youthful expectants. Others, for any 
 means they had of calculating, might be long-lived or 
 short-lived—generally (they had a strong pirsuasion), 
 long. So, among the lawyers and laymen. 
 
228 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 “ But, every man, as I understand you, one and all,” 
 said the Spirit, “ has his time ?” 
 
 “Yes!” they exclaimed together. 
 
 “ Yes,” said the Spirit; “ and it is— eternity ! Who¬ 
 soever is a consenting party to a wrong, comforting 
 himself with the base reflection that it will last his 
 time, shall bear his portion of that wrong throughout 
 all time. And, in the hour when he and I stand face 
 to face, he shall surely know it, as my name is Justice !” 
 
 It departed, turning its face hither and thither, as it 
 passed along upon its ceaseless work, and marking all 
 on whom it looked. 
 
 Then went among many trembling hearers the whis¬ 
 per, saying, “ See, each of you, before you take your 
 ease, O wicked, selfish men, that what will ‘ last your 
 time,’ be just enough to last forever !” 
 
 85. 
 
 KEY. J. H. FOWLER ON THE COMPARATIVE AMOUNT OF 
 EVIDENCE. 
 
 New York, October 19, 1864. 
 
 The testimony which I have collected with regard to 
 Spiritualism, records this critical and candid “ Divinity 
 Student,” though not a tithe of what has come under my 
 observation, and in many respects—owing principally 
 to the necessity for brevity—not so complete and con¬ 
 vincing as much which I have rejected, is still sufficient 
 to establish the facts, as far as human testimony can 
 do it. The facts must either be admitted, or the testi- 
 
comparative amount of evidence. 
 
 229 
 
 mony of the human senses, however multiplied, pro¬ 
 nounced unreliable. If the latter alternative be accept¬ 
 ed, then, of course, it applies as well to past ages as to 
 the present, and the New Testament testimony is worth 
 nothing. So all a priori objections to the occurrence 
 of any fact, or class of facts, at the present day, would 
 apply with equal force to those of any past age. And 
 all arguments from the wants of mankind, previous 
 prophecies, and arguments of whatever kind, -which have 
 been made to render the New Testament accounts proba¬ 
 ble, will apply with equal force to those of the present 
 day ; so that, aside from the amount of testimony, the 
 ancient “ miracles” have no advantage. 
 
 Let us, then, compare the testimony in favor of each. 
 To facilitate this, we will classify the so-called miracles 
 of the New Testament in the following manner:— 
 
 1st. The counteraction of the law of gravitation in 
 the movement of physical objects ; the rolling away the 
 stone at the door of the sepulcher of Christ; the opening 
 of the prison-doors to Peter; Christ walking on the 
 water, &c. 
 
 2d. Luminous appearances accompanying the mani¬ 
 festations of physical power, and the seeing of spirits — • 
 as in the case of Peter’s release from prison; the trans¬ 
 figuration of Christ ou the mount; the conversion of 
 Paul on the day of Pentecost. 
 
 3d. Spirits are seen, recognized and conversed with — 
 as, Moses and Elias; Christ after his death; and others. 
 
 4th. Voices are heard—as at St. Paul’s convers’" pn; at 
 the baptism of Christ, &c. 
 
 5th. Speaking in unknown tongues. 
 
230 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 6th. Jesus is taught to read. 
 
 7th. A remarkable healing power is exhibited. 
 
 8th. Cursing the fig-tree. 
 
 9th. Turning water into wine. 
 
 10th. Feeding a multitude on less than nothing. 
 
 11th. Raising a person from the dead. 
 
 12th. Child horn with no natural father. 
 
 These twelve classes, I believe, comprise all the pre¬ 
 tended miracles of the New Testament. 
 
 We will first present our testimony to facts precisely 
 similar to, or involving the same principles as, those of 
 the first seven classes, and then consider the other five 
 particular ones. The reader should now turn to the 
 testimony , arid read the cases as they are referred to. 
 (See his historically excellent pamphlet.) 
 
 Witnesses for New Testament miracles are, according 
 to the record, Saul of Tarsus (otherwise called Paul); 
 Peter, a fisherman of Galilee ; Luke, Paul’s secretary ; 
 Mark, Peter’s secretary; Matthew, a tax-gatherer of 
 Capernaum ; John, a fisherman of Galilee. 
 
 Witnesses to modern miracles or manifestations, in 
 this day and hour, can he counted by hundreds of 
 thousands! 
 
 S6. 
 
 CHANGES IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD HERALDED BY 
 WONDERFUL SIGNS. 
 
 New York, October 20, 1864. 
 
 At this moment it seems to me to be an undeniable 
 historical fact, that intimately associated with all reli- 
 
WONDERFUL SIGNS. 
 
 £31 
 
 gious dispensations have been certain spiritual excite¬ 
 ments and awakenings ; a certain fertilization and blos¬ 
 soming of the spiritual sentiments of mankind; also, 
 that in keeping with such fertilization and exaltation 
 of the religious feelings, there have been remarkable 
 “ manifestations,” showing the working of interior 
 
 causes, potential and intelligent.When 
 
 an old dispensation retires from the stage, a new one is 
 heralded by certain notifications that are striking to 
 the senses—acting directly upon the external and in¬ 
 ternal nature of man, rousing his intellectual and moral 
 powers to a fresh apprehension of principles. Mankind 
 have called these developments “ miracles ”—the mys¬ 
 terious operations of yet more mysterious and distant 
 agents. But we now know that it is the inevitable 
 operation of a vigorous vital force within the constitu¬ 
 tion of man—prophetic on the summit of all human 
 hope and reason, and is what religious peoplecall “ God.” 
 It is what physicists call the “ Law of Nature;” it is 
 what the skeptic calls the natural religious “ proclivity 
 of humanity ;” it is what the historian calls the testimony 
 of “ God speaking through human history.” .... 
 All human history is alike; repeats itself. It brings 
 unanimous testimony that every dispensation has been 
 heralded by and intimately associated with these mys¬ 
 terious manifestations of spirit-power. It is something 
 grander than a mere question of testimony. There is 
 a genius in human life which indorses this uniformity 
 
 of spiritual experience.Inspiration comes 
 
 from agents once living in flesh, but who, by being 
 subjected to the chemical process called physical dea f h, 
 have been disinthralled, launched on the broad sea of 
 
232 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 future existence, with the power not only to think 
 better thoughts, and to feel nobler sentiments, hut with 
 all their characteristic attractions, which, like telegraphic 
 lines of communication, lead them instinctively and 
 joyously back to the haunts of life on the earth ; and 
 thus, wherever in Germany, in Scotland, in Ireland, or 
 in this country, the spirits found a house where the 
 conditions were in harmony with manifestations, they 
 have made them ; and so, in spite of human ignorance 
 and superstition there has been, so to say, a sort of 
 apostolic testimony, not only through human history in 
 this life, but from human history in the higher world— 
 the present and future being intimately and indissolubly 
 
 united!.How, in modern days, by 
 
 examining these matters carefully, men become free to 
 reject all irrational supernaturalism; are not fettered 
 with belief in an abstract God—in any power which 
 subverts, or inverts, or transcends, or in any way in¬ 
 fringes upon, the well-established order of the natural 
 universe and the great spiritual empire to which all is 
 tending.Spiritualism is a great Eman¬ 
 
 cipator ! It has a remarkably liberalizing influence; 
 for through facts, well ascertained, we have discovered 
 that our existence after death is not ghostly and ghastly, 
 but is natural, palpable, definable, and most desirable— 
 a relative existence, as much in harmony with objects 
 and substances as the present. Spiritual manifestations 
 are not only a key by which to solve man’s spiritual 
 constitution as he is, but they scientifically and pro 
 phetically demonstrate his constitution as it is to be. 
 
THEODORE PARKER. 
 
 233 
 
 er. 
 
 IMPRESSIONS OF THEODORE PARKER. 
 
 New York, October 23, 1SG4 
 
 Not since the summer of 1859, while engaged, at M:. 
 Poole's residence, in the composition of the “Thinker,” 
 (Gt. Har., vol. 5*), have I felt the comprehensive pres¬ 
 ence of Theodore Parker.True, honest, 
 
 energetic, reverential, modest, inspired! he is greatly 
 
 beloved in the Summer Land.Of him it 
 
 is wisely said : “ His spiritual life had its fountains and 
 its sanctions, not in the traditions and creeds and cus¬ 
 toms of churches, but in the depths of his own spiritual 
 nature. He lived from within, not from without. No 
 vicarious, artificial, or ceremonial sanctities molded his 
 spirit, controlled his conduct, or prescribed his destiny. 
 His thoughts, beliefs, devotions—his hopes, aspirations, 
 assurances—his yearnings, exertions, sacrifices; his pur¬ 
 poses, vows, obediences—were his own : dictated only 
 by his own consciousness, governed only by his own 
 judgment, warranted only by his uwn nature, conse¬ 
 crated freely to his own salvation. He revered the tra¬ 
 ditional, but not the dust in which it was enshrined. 
 He loved the ancient saints, not for the titles bestowed 
 
 * For th« author’s estimate of Mr. Parker’s charaiter a - d writings 
 see the volume referred to. 
 
234 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 upon them by the manufacturers of a sinister calendar, 
 hut for the radiant virtues that made them strong 
 whilst they lived, and the unquenchable piety that gave 
 them immortality. Prophets he revered, not because 
 ecclesiastical tribunals had pronounced them divine, but 
 because they had borne the testimony of their protests, 
 their sorrows, and their blood to the everlastiug justice 
 of Grod, and to the outraged rights and responsibilities 
 of maukind. He called no man ‘ masterbut, with the 
 beautiful modesty of true righteousness, he preserved 
 his mind free from every ghostly enslavement, that it 
 might the more purely dedicate itself to the simple 
 services of earth and heaven.” 
 
 In 1851 I visited Theodore Parker in his study. It 
 was a cold day in Boston. His writing and thinking 
 room looked to me like a book-store, where one could 
 get musty copies of most ancient works by authors long 
 since departed from the world’s memory. The four 
 sides of his study were books, books—nothing but 
 books, in all kinds of covers—from floor to ceiling. He, 
 the master, sat very near an old-fashioned kitchen wood 
 stove, with a broad flat top, suggestive of a good place 
 to bake immense buckwheat cakes. . . . Against 
 
 the wall, near his desk, hung a rusty musket and sol¬ 
 dierly gearings, recalling the old revolutionary war. 
 . . . He, an outcast from all the Boston churches, 
 
 looked gloriously and lovingly, while in speech his heart 
 came tenderly forth ; and through plain, short, earnest 
 words, he freely testified his decided interest, almost 
 entire faith, in the demonstrations of Clairvoyance and 
 Spiritualism, which he regarded at least as among 
 the many great educational agencies promotive of the 
 
RAISING THE DEAD. 
 
 235 
 
 world’s progress and emancipation. . . . Bnt 1 
 
 could not talk with him! His multitudinous books 
 oppressed me. . . I wished for a walk with him in 
 
 the woods; possibly, in the great out-doors I might be 
 at home with him. 
 
 88 . 
 
 THE MIRACLE OF RAISING A PERSON FROM THE DEAD. 
 
 New York, November 2, 1864. 
 
 This afternoon a gentleman called at our office, No. 
 274 Canal Street, to obtain facts and arguments suitable 
 for a discussion ol the claims of “ modern miracles ” as 
 he called them. ... I handed him my friend J. 
 H. Fowler’s admirable essay on this very subject, 
 which he read before the middle and senior classes in 
 Cambridge Divinity School. . . . This circumstance 
 reminds me of the following interesting passage in Mr. 
 Fowler’s pamphlet:— 
 
 There is only one case of this kind in the New Testa¬ 
 ment, that of Lazarus. In the other cases there is no 
 certainty that the persons were really dead , as any one 
 will readily see by referring to the accounts themselves. 
 Persons are very frequently supposed to be dead, and are 
 sometimes buried, when they are only in a swoon. But 
 I think, in the case of Lazarus, this could not be. It 
 is not at all probable that he could lie in this state four 
 days , and in the tomb. I am aware that thi« account 
 
236 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 is given more in detail than that of any other miracle in 
 the New Testament. Bnt I will ask any candid per¬ 
 son, who professedly believes this narrative given in 
 the writings of only one man, and those of doubtful 
 authorship, but who finds it too great a stretch of credu¬ 
 lity to believe “modern miracles ” on the testimony of 
 a thousand living witnesses,—I will ask such a person, 
 Could you believe a fact similar to that related in the 
 Gospel of John, if ten most reliable men should declare 
 they saw it performed, f If not, then may I not infer 
 that you, with me, do not believe this account? I 
 think the other gospel writers did not believe it, or 
 they would have recorded it. For, if it took place, 
 they must have known it, as Jesus was a particular 
 friend in this family of Lazarus. It is a greater mira¬ 
 cle than they have mentioned; and I can account for 
 their silence only on the ground that they never heard 
 the story, or did not believe it. I know not why a big 
 story could not grow up from a small matter in that age, 
 as well as in the present age. All, who have read any 
 considerable portion of the church fathers know that 
 the greater the story they could tell, the better; and 
 who can say how early they began to fabricate them, 
 or when the gospel of John was written? 
 
 The silence of the other three histories, as to this 
 greatest of all the miracles, looks rather suspicious. It 
 can be accounted for only in one of three ways : either 
 the writers did not hear of the miracle, or they did not 
 believe it, or they did not think it of sufficient import¬ 
 ance to be recorded. 
 
 The last supposition can not be accepted ; for they all 
 three, with John, record several miracles, which we 
 
RAISING THE DEAD. 
 
 231 
 
 all know, and which they must have known, were far 
 less important than this. 
 
 Either of the others amounts to the same thing. 
 For, had such a miracle as this occurred in the presence 
 of so “many Jews” (John 11: 45 and 46), it would 
 have been not only extensively known, but well at¬ 
 tested. This, and the fact that Lazarus, with his 
 family, were particular friends of Jesus and his disciples 
 (John 11: 11), makes it certain that they all would 
 have known the fact, had it really occurred as related 
 in the fourth gospel. So, if they heard but did not 
 believe the story, having the same means of knowing 
 the facts, we must conclude that it was false. The 
 Jews, who did not believe in Jesus, might hear of this 
 or any other work of Jesus, and not believe it; or they 
 might witness facts, and think it a deception or an im¬ 
 posture, as many at the present day, who disbelieve 
 “spirit manifestations,” reject any particular fact, 
 though they may have been eye-witnesses to it. But 
 this could not be the case with the disciples of Jesus. 
 They would both have known and believed the fact, had 
 Jesus raised Lazarus to life, after he had been dead (11 : 
 13,14), four days in the tomb. Since, then, we are com¬ 
 pelled to accept one of those alternatives,—namely, 
 that they did not know , or did not believe ,—we must 
 conclude that the fact did not occur as related. 
 
 This reasoning proceeds on the supposition that the 
 first three gospels were written by the immediate disci¬ 
 ples of Jesus; but, if they were written by those of a 
 later period, the reasoning, with a slight alteration, 
 will apply with equal force. 
 
 And again, as to the miracle of a child being bora 
 
238 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 with no natural father. IIow do we know ? Somebody 
 said so. Who said so ? Supposed to be Matthew and 
 Luke! Who told them ? Suppose Paul told Luke, • 
 and somebody told Matthew and Paul; for neither of 
 these persons knew any thing about the child or its 
 mother till thirty years after he was born. Suppose, 
 then, the mother of the child told this story, for it must 
 come to this at last. Joseph’s dream can not be credited 
 among a people who do not believe in dreams and 
 visions; nor can any of the spiritual communications to 
 Mary, or any of the parties, be relied upon by those 
 who do not believe it possible for spirits to communi¬ 
 cate to mortals. We then have the story reported to 
 ns at second-hand, at least. 
 
 How, where is the court, in. any country, which 
 could accept such second-hand testimony as this, for 
 the most natural event? And could the most credu¬ 
 lous Christian judge, upon any bench, but smile with 
 pity upon the unfortunate female who should personally 
 give oath before him that her child had no natural 
 father, or that an angel, or a spirit, had begotten him ; 
 and would he not be the more surprised, should she 
 solemnly declare that no less a spirit than God himself 
 had done this ? Why this goes beyond all the spirit inter¬ 
 course of modern times ; though there were many simi¬ 
 lar stories told, and believed, in those ancient times. 
 The people then did not think it at all strange for the 
 gods to have intercourse with women ; and it appears, 
 by the Old Testament, that Jews could credit such 
 stories as well as the heathens.—Gen. 4 : 2 and 4. 
 
 I am fully aware that those who professedly believe 
 these stories do not receive them on the flimsy testi- 
 
TIIE LYCEUM.—A NEW THIN« 
 
 239 
 
 monv which is given in their support, but through 
 their theories of “the fall” and “ the plan of redemp¬ 
 tion ;” else they accept them from tradition and habit, 
 as they do many others, without the disposition or 
 courage to question them. But, should we not be cau¬ 
 tious how we build theories upon facts so poorly sub¬ 
 stantiated ? Theories to support the facts—then make 
 the facts support the theories ! and this when both the 
 theories and the facts are, in themselves, so monstrous 
 and absurd, if not blasphemous, that human nature 
 revolts at them! 
 
 89. 
 
 THE LYCEUM.—A NEW THING UNDER THE SUN. 
 
 New York, November 24, 1864. 
 
 Perhaps I am too enthusiastic to-day, but sincerely 
 [ think that the Children’s Progressive Lyceum is 
 really a “ new thing under the sun.” Its basis is in 
 the twofold organization of the child—the body with 
 its functions, and the soul with its intuitions—both 
 needing and demanding attention, education, and recre¬ 
 ation. . . . Thousands of people are superstitious 
 
 about the day called “ The Sabbath.” . . . Sun¬ 
 
 day is not exempt from the operation of physical laws; 
 neither are the moral laws suspended between Mondays 
 and Saturdays. In short, a child is just the same 
 natural being on Sunday as on every other day of the 
 week ; and the “ wing movements,” and the harmoni 
 
240 
 
 MEMOKANDA. 
 
 ous “ marchings with the stars and stripes,” in the Sun¬ 
 day sessions of the Children’s Lyceum, are introduced 
 upon the principle that there is no difference in days 
 to the body and soul of a child / and as to men and 
 women, the same principle will apply, for it is, I be¬ 
 lieve, admitted that they are hut “ children of a larger 
 growth.” . . . The Sunday-Schools of orthodox 
 
 establishments are universally distasteful to children; 
 because such schools—although conducted by very ex¬ 
 cellent persons, who are moved by the best inten¬ 
 tions—are founded upon false and unnatural doctrines. 
 Take out of popular orthodox Sunday-Schools two in¬ 
 fluences, and they would cease in less than a year—first, 
 the social attractions, which are very powerful with 
 children; and, second, the fascinations of the library, 
 full of story books ! With these influences paramount, 
 any association of young people is bound together 
 firmly, and will sail under any flag of sectarianism; 
 not one in fifty of them knowing or caring a particle 
 about the creed, and the whole congregation thinking 
 next to nothing about the fundamental ideas and car¬ 
 dinal “ points of doctrine.” . . . The Children’s 
 
 Progressive Lyceum, while it most beautifully provides 
 for the social and literary wants of the young, possesses 
 inherent attractions. It begins by classifying the chil¬ 
 dren into “groups” with beautiful titles. Over each 
 group is an officer called a “Leader,” who, like the 
 childien, is provided with a badge of beauty and sig¬ 
 nificance. The color of each group is unlike that of 
 every other; just as, in the fields, every flower and bud 
 and tree and stone is provided by the Divine Love and 
 Wisdom with adaptations and a color of its own. 
 
THE LYCEUM.—A NEW THING. 
 
 241 
 
 As to the plan of education : This differs essentially 
 from popular methods. We have no text-hooks nor 
 “catechisms” with stereotyped questions and answers. 
 On the contrary, the children in a Lyceum are “ edu¬ 
 cated” to think for themselves, and to select their own 
 “questions,” and to bring on the following Sunday 
 their own “ answers.” How beautifully and perfectly 
 this plan works, can be illustrated by the school better 
 than described in words. The plan will, I am quite 
 sure, receive the approbation of every Avise and sincere 
 lover of children and humanity. . . . The Lyceum 
 
 Manual contains hymns, songs, impressive silver-chain 
 recitations, &c. The children learn to sing the songs 
 of Progress, to chant the hymns of the Summer Land, 
 and to recite the holiest sentiments of thanksgiving and 
 praise. . . . Last Spring, while recovering from a 
 
 brief illness, the feeling came upon me that I might 
 contribute at least one song to the music of childhood. 
 I went directly to writing; and as it was “my first.” 
 and in all probability will be “ my last,” I will make 
 a note of it right here:— 
 
 The sun is bright, and its golden light 
 Is filling the world with power; 
 
 The song-birds fly through the kindling sky, 
 
 And music floods the hour. 
 
 This gladsome life, when free from strife, 
 
 Shall fill our hearts with glee, 
 
 And falling showers on fields and flowers 
 Shall make us happy and free. 
 
 Ohoeus : Oh! let us drink from Nature’s fount, 
 
 Whence love and beauty flow; 
 
 Oh, let us walk in Wisdom’s ways, 
 
 Where all the angels go. 
 
 11 
 
2 ±2 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 T1 ere are golden beams in laughing streams, 
 And music in the trees ; 
 
 There are heavenly dyes and love-lit eyes, 
 And whisperings in the breeze. 
 
 The beautiful songs of unseen throngs 
 O’erflow this world of ours, 
 
 And loving hands from angel-lands 
 Bedeck our paths with flowers. 
 
 There is no death! for the Father’s breath 
 Filleth our hearts with youth; 
 
 And a heavenly wave destroys the grave 
 For him who loveth the truth. 
 
 The earth is singing, and time is winging 
 Each to another sea; 
 
 Then let us love the truths above 
 That make us happy and free. 
 
 90. 
 
 WHAT A SPIRIT THINKS ON THE RIGHTS OF PROPERTY. 
 
 New York, November 25, 1864. 
 
 About five years ago, at a hotel in Buffalo, New 
 York, I conversed an hour or so with a retired mer¬ 
 chant on the subject of Labor, Poverty, Riches, 
 Monopoly, &c. He was a violent opponent of Charles 
 Fourier and Albert Brisbane, and attributed their public 
 efforts for “ Association ” to an insane wish to disturb 
 and reconstruct the natural order of human society. 
 Seeing that no impression could be made upon his mind 
 in the direction of associated labor, &c., I said: “ Will 
 you promise me to take a look into this subject as soon 
 
THE EIGHT OF PKOPERTY. 
 
 243 
 
 as you can after you pass through death ?” He was 
 ranch amused, but replied: “ Yes, I’ll study up every 
 thing when I become one of your spirits.” Then 1 
 added: “ Will you, as soon as you find opportunity, 
 come to me with your post-mortem opinion on the sub¬ 
 ject of this conversation ?” He laughingly promised 
 that “ he would,” and thereupon in friendship we sepa¬ 
 rated. That was in 1859.To-day, as I 
 
 was contemplatively walking in one of the shady retreats 
 in Central Park, this man (in the spirit body !) came to 
 me, announced his name, refreshed my memory con¬ 
 cerning the conversation in Buffalo, his promise, and 
 his readiness to express his new convictions.* 
 
 At once, I asked: “Have you yet met Fourier?” 
 He replied that he had not; but now lie fully accepted, 
 “ as truth, Fourier’s fundamental principle of the 
 Right of Property.” 
 
 I asked him kindly to “ define it to me.” And he 
 substantially answered :— 
 
 “Every individual possesses, legitimately, the thing which his 
 labor, his intelligence (or more generally), his activity has 
 created. This principle is incontestible, and contains expressly an 
 acknowledgment of the right of all to the soil. For as the soil 
 has not been created by man, it follows from this fundamental 
 principle of property, that it can not belong to any small portion 
 of the human race, who have created it by their activity. Let us 
 then conclude that the true theory of property is founded on the 
 * creation of the thing possessed .' " 
 
 “ Can you,” I inquired, “ give me what you now 
 think is the cause of poverty ?” 
 
 * I had not heard of the merchant’s decease at that time, and was 
 naturally somewhat surprised, but subsequently learned that he died 
 with cholera two years before this interview. 
 
244 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 “ On all these subjects,” he answered, “ I have 
 entirely new views,” and in substance he thus pro 
 ceeded :— 
 
 “ The cause of poverty is ignorance, disunion, and monopoly. 
 The cause of monopoly is money, and love of power. Money is 
 used to monopolize the soil and other necessaries of life which 
 make men rich. In ages past, when all had to work to provide 
 themselves with the necessaries of life, a few idle ones got to¬ 
 gether and said to themselves—‘ How can we get all the good 
 things we want, and do no work?’ 
 
 “ ‘I have it,’ says one of them ; ‘ I will get gold and mold it 
 into beautiful forms, which will please the multitude. I have 
 seen some of them admire gold as it lies in the mine. It is of no 
 use now, but we will make it into glittering coin, and to our ad¬ 
 vantage. It has been in the earth immured for ages, while by its 
 side iron has been brought forth and made useful to man; and 
 now gold shall be made also useful.’ 
 
 “They then took the beautiful stuff from the mine, and made 
 it into glittering coin. They showed it to the people. 
 
 “ ‘ Give us that,’ said they. 
 
 “ ‘ We will, if you will give us bread, clothes, and let us lie in 
 your bouses.’ 
 
 “ ‘ We will,’ they answered. And then was given birth a curse 
 that is filling the world with want and misery. It is money that 
 enables those who do nothing to extract the comforts of life from 
 those who make all the necessaries of life. To illustrate: If I 
 should go to California and get gold from the mines, and bring it 
 into society, and buy a farm, food, clothing, &c., what would I 
 give in exchange for those things ? Why, for the farm I would 
 give something that was earth itself; and for the food give 
 something that has not made any food, and never will. I buy 
 clothes with it, but I do not give the tailor any food or clothes, or 
 any of the comforts of life in return; I only give him some Cali¬ 
 fornia gold that has lain there a long time doing nothing, and 
 when brought forth and made into money, it is worth nothing; 
 because it is doing nothing. I wish I could say that it has done 
 
THE RIGHT OF PROPERTY. 
 
 245 
 
 nothing. It has done much ; it has bought up the soil and made 
 a world full of landlords and tenants; it has bought up food, and 
 clothing, and left man to go through the world naked, and starv¬ 
 ing. when the world was full of food and clothing. It buys men 
 in high and low places. It bought Judas; it bought Arnold ; it 
 has made chattel slavery by buying up our brother man, and 
 making him as a beast of burden. 
 
 “ ‘ Now, these are my new conclusions: To do away with 
 poverty on earth, let those that labor, unite and work for each 
 other only. Let a certain number in every community unite their 
 labor and interests; let them create the necessaries of life, and 
 hold them in common, and deposit them in some convenient 
 place, and when any member wants let him go to the place of 
 deposit and get what he wants without money and without price ! 
 God has given the earth, not to man, or men, but to humanity ; 
 because humanity is dependent on her for life as much as they are 
 on the air we breathe, or the water we drink. Therefore, govern¬ 
 ments must give you the land, and then from its bosom take the 
 raw materials, ana < brm all the necessaries of life. The working 
 classes know how to make every thing. Do they not build all 
 the houses, make all the clothing, and prepare all the food ? Do 
 they not build all the ships ‘that traverse the waters like things 
 of life,’ that come and go to all parts of the world, and distribute 
 the comforts of life to all nations? Yes, it is you that do every 
 thing? Then, why should you longer be slaves, when you know 
 so much and are so strong ? Come out of the institutions that 
 you are in, and build up new ones that will make you independent, 
 free, and happy. Arise, and take land, and build yourselves 
 houses—not huts, but splendid mansions. Furnish them with the 
 comfortable, the useful, and beautiful. Shear your sheep; gather 
 your flax; and cotton; and set your spinning-jenny in motion; 
 and make such clothing as will adorn and comfort your bodies 
 and homes. Plow your fields, sow your grain, and when the 
 harvest comes, gather from the earth the food you want. Build 
 ships and carry your surplus products to other nations in exchange 
 for such things as you may want. Establish schools, and 
 colleges, and halls of science, and libraries, with useful books in 
 
MEMOKANDA. 
 
 246 
 
 them. Make pleasure-grounds and pleasure-houses. In a word, 
 make all those things that will elevate you and make you happy. 
 There is an abundance of material scattered over the earth to supply 
 all your wants. Be wise; unite ; and become rich by the union of 
 labor. The poor shall cease out of the land. Association will 
 make you rich. Isolation will keep you poor. The past has 
 been Isolation ; the effect has been discord, poverty, vice, misery, 
 and slavery. The future will be Association: the effect will be 
 harmony, plenty, purity, happiness, and liberty.” 
 
 The foregoing is the substance of what the “ mer¬ 
 chant ” said, who had now “ retired ” from the earth 
 not only, hut also from all his selfishness regarding 
 property. 
 
 91. 
 
 MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. 
 
 New York, November 26, 1864. 
 
 Maky and I have been freely and joyously mingling 
 with the Lyceum children to-day. ... Is there 
 any thing more beautiful than a beautiful soul in a 
 beautiful form ? . . . The order of thought, feel¬ 
 
 ing, and will is developed extremely slow in a child; 
 because it is spirit power , and not the number of years 
 and sensations, that constitutes the cause of orderly 
 development. . . . This morning I was reminded 
 
 that there are certain persons who seem only qualified 
 to detect vices in others; while different minds seem 
 only to see virtues. . . . “ Mind your own busi¬ 
 
 ness,” is a proverb often used and seldom applied. . . . 
 In our national character, which is not yet formed, 
 
TIIE TRUE MARRIAGE. 
 
 247 
 
 there are traits of moral laxity, selfishness, fickle- 
 hearteduess, with much benevolence and sympathy for 
 suffering. . . . Paul, in his Epistle to the Phi- 
 
 lippians (chap. ii. v. 4), said : “ Look not every man on 
 Ids own things, but every man also on the things of 
 others.” To follow this rule one can not exclusively 
 “ mind his own business.” A little mind, having 
 found peace in God, shrivels and shuts itself up from 
 the world. A great mind, having strengthened its life 
 in God’s, unfolds and strives to win the world over to 
 His kingdom. . . . How does a little picture look 
 
 in an enormous frame ? How looks a little thought in 
 an immense book ? How looks a little soul in a giant 
 body ? . . . Let us have proportion—balance, har¬ 
 
 mony ! This is the central idea of our new Religion. 
 Who wonders that it is beloved by children ; by the 
 aspiring; and by angel-natures throughout the uni¬ 
 verse % 
 
 93. 
 
 THE ONE ONLY AND TRUE MARRIAGE. 
 
 New York, November 28, 1864. 
 
 This morning the mail brought a letter full of ques¬ 
 tions. I have little time to give to these numerous 
 daily arrivals. There is one query which, I think, I 
 have answered a thousand and one times, namely : 
 
 Mr. Davis :—In the light of your inspiration is ‘free 
 love’ an inheritance of Spiritualism, or is it an inci* 
 dent which time and truth will divest it of?” 
 
248 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 Now, if I do not once more answer, tlie correspond 
 ent will say, “Ah, it’s just as I have supposed. 1 
 wrote to Mr. Davis, asking r» plain, civil question. He 
 don't answer me; therefore, ‘ silence gives consent 
 and I conclude that Spiritualism is the father of Free 
 Loveism, and I shall have henceforth nothing to do 
 with it.” To promote truth in his mind I thus replied : 
 Love controlled alone by Wisdom—free from the 
 iniquities of passion, free from the misdirections of 
 sensuality, free from the extremes of blood, free from 
 the inversions of disease—such love is an “inherit¬ 
 ance ” of Spiritualism. The wise love of the New 
 Dispensation is unselfish—fraternal, unbounded, uni¬ 
 versal. Behold the love of flower for flower; so pure 
 hearts beat responsive and free. 
 
 But that misery-promoting abuse of the conjugal re¬ 
 lation, called by us free-passionism, is an “incident” 
 to the development of mankind out of blood into 
 spirit—out of materialism into spirituality—out of 
 prostitution into the divine order of society, when men 
 and women will be but little lower than the angels. 
 In plainer language: There is but one true marriage, 
 namely: the marriage of the right irian with the right 
 woman , forever ! The state of singleness is unnatural. 
 No woman, no man, is naturally a celibate. “ Union ” 
 is the universal decree of Father God and Mother Na¬ 
 ture. Dr. Johnson gives the philosophy of marriage 
 in a few words:—“A married man,” says he, “has 
 many cares ; but a bachelor has no pleasures. Cutting 
 himself off from life’s purest and most exquisite enjoy¬ 
 ments for fear of some trifling annoyance, he emulates 
 the sagacity of the wiseacre, who amputates his leg to 
 
ORTHODOX CHURCn SYSTEM. 
 
 219 
 
 secure himself from corns.' 1 But liarmonial philoso¬ 
 phers will study to secure the true marriage first. 
 
 93. 
 
 THE ORTHODOX CHURCH SYSTEM FINANCIALLY CON¬ 
 SIDERED. 
 
 New York, November 30, 1864. 
 
 Few considerations (says a writer) are better calcu¬ 
 lated to awaken attention, at this time, than those of a 
 monetary character. It may therefore be well to ex¬ 
 amine the “ Financial aspects of Christianity.” 
 
 It has been conclusively demonstrated, that it costs 
 the nation three hundred millions of dollars to keep the 
 machinery of the church in operation ! Now let us see 
 what it costs the State of New York. By the census 
 of 1S55, it appears that the amount of church property 
 in the State is $31,480,000 ! The salaries paid to the 
 clergymen of the State, amounted to $2,400,000 annu¬ 
 ally ! To this sum add the income from the church 
 property, at seven per cent, interest, which amounts to 
 $2,200,000, and we have an annual expense to the State 
 o i four million six hundred thousand dollars ! ! This 
 is for the support of pulpits alone. The additional cost 
 of Sunday-Schools, Bible and Tract Societies, is not so 
 easily determined, though some idea of the expense in¬ 
 curred by the two latter, may be gained by the follow¬ 
 ing statements taken from the reports of the societies. 
 
 “ The American Tract Society has, since its founda¬ 
 tion, thirty-one years ago, issued publications to the 
 n* 
 
250 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 number of one hundred and eighty-five million, and 
 expended $5,000,000 ! Eight million families have beeu 
 visited, nearly five million books sold, and one and 
 a quarter million given away. Last year the Society 
 employed seven hundred colporteurs, and expended 
 nearly half a million dollars!” 
 
 “ The American Bible Society has, during the forty 
 years of its operation, issued over eleven million Bibles 
 and Testaments! The receipts last year amounted 
 to almost four hundred thousand dollars!” 
 
 In addition to these, there are, in this State alone, 
 some sixty religious papers and periodicals, circulating 
 thousands of pages of religious reading of a Christian 
 character. 
 
 Now what is the success of the Christian system in 
 this State, with all these appliances and this immense 
 expenditure of wealth ? Why, just this: about one- 
 third of the people are induced to attend church ! and 
 only one-fifth become church members! It is acknowl¬ 
 edged that a large number of the church members are 
 not experimentally acquainted with the religion they 
 profess. If so, how small a share of the people of the 
 State are Christianized, notwithstanding the efforts of 
 five or six thousand clergymen, and the vast sums ex¬ 
 pended. 
 
 To show the value of the money thus annually squan¬ 
 dered, let us see what might be done with it, if differ¬ 
 ently appropriated. First, then, the sum paid for “pul 
 pits and pulpit preaching,” would comfortably support 
 all the deaf, dumb, blind, insane, and idiotic in the 
 State—over seven thousand persons in all; would pro¬ 
 vide for our ten thousand paupers, and pay the salaries 
 
ORTHODOX CHURCH SYSTEM. 
 
 251 
 
 of the teachers of all the common schools! Or, omitting 
 the charities, the sum would defray the expense of our 
 entire common school system—pay the salaries of teach¬ 
 ers, and leave a sum for the purchase of library, appa¬ 
 ratus, &c., equal to nearly two hundred dollars for each 
 district every year! Think you, intelligent reader, this 
 sum judiciously applied, would not prove of greater 
 benefit, physically and spiritually, to our citizens than 
 the one hundred or one hundred and fifty sermons 
 preached from each of the five thousand pulpits ? 
 
 The first cost of the church edifices of the State was 
 six times that of all the school-houses, so that the same 
 capital would rebuild all the school-houses at double 
 the original cost, and erect a “ public hall ” in every 
 village and settlement, at an average cost of over lour 
 thousand dollars! Only think of it! For the sum 
 which we have paid for the “ houses of God,” which 
 are almost universally closed to all purposes of human 
 good—not even opened for anti-slavery and temper¬ 
 ance lectures, and pertinaciously shut against all lec¬ 
 tures upon man or Nature—for this sum expended for 
 these edifices—appropriated to the use, every seventh 
 day, of the “ Unknown God ” who is there “ ignorantly 
 worshiped,” we might have built a splendid school- 
 house in every district, and erected in every desired 
 locality a spacious and elegant “ public hall ” for a 
 “People’s Lyceum,” where all the people could every 
 day learn more of themselves, of nature, and “Nature’s 
 God,” and thus know how to improve themselves, enjoy 
 nature, and glorify God. 
 
 Then for the sum paid to the clergy for interpreting 
 the Bible, for our own individual understanding of 
 
252 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 which—not theirs—are we to be held responsible , 
 every school-house could be supplied with an abundant 
 library, and every “ public hall ” with a reading-room, 
 library, apparatus, piano, and other articles for amuse¬ 
 ment and instruction. The provision would be ample, 
 leaving a goodly sum to pay qualified lecturers from a 
 distance for their services. What a dead loss is there 
 to society every year! How great a good do we sur¬ 
 render for an insignificant benefit! 
 
 Christian professors are accustomed to undervalue all 
 these instrumentalities to which I have alluded, and 
 award credit to the “ grace of God ” for the few con¬ 
 veniences and limited accessions to the church in con¬ 
 sequence thereof. But I venture the assertion that, 
 could all the thirty thousand pulpits of the land be oc¬ 
 cupied by Harmonial teachers, all the religious papers 
 be put under the control of Harmonial minds, the in¬ 
 comes of the Bible and Tract Societies be expended in 
 publishing Harmonial works for gratuitous distribution, 
 and last, but not least, could all the Sunday-Schools be 
 appropriated to the promulgation of the truth as it is 
 in the “ Harmonial Philosophy,” not five years would 
 elapse before there would be a moral revolution in this 
 country unprecedented in history ! The immortal life 
 would become an acknowledged fact, intereoui’se with 
 the spirit world would be universally demonstrated as 
 a verity, and liberty be proclaimed over all the land! 
 The law T s of individual harmony being early taught 
 and understood, intemperance and licentiousness would 
 diminish and public morals and private virtue rapidly 
 improve. Once let mankind understand the laws of 
 their being, and learn to know the inevitable conse- 
 
ORTHODOX CHURCH SYSTKM. 
 
 253 
 
 quences of wrong doing, and banish the idea of a way 
 of escape from the penalties of sin, and an effect, blessed 
 and glorious to every friend of goodness, would follow 
 as speedily and certainly as do life and vegetation obey 
 the magnetic influence of the balmy air and bright sun¬ 
 light of early Spring. 
 
 The light of truth has yet scarcely penetrated the 
 clouds of superstition which have been hanging over 
 us from man’s earliest infancy; and it is not strange 
 that men should wander from the path of true wisdom, 
 when their highest teachings have been mythological 
 ideas too crude and absurd for intelligent credence. 
 
 One thought more and I have done : We all know 
 how zealous the Catholic Church, and especially the 
 priesthood, is to secure the early training of the 
 young. Give them control of the schools, and they 
 ask but little more. The Protestant Church manifests 
 the same desire, and for the same reasons. They both 
 understand the importance of bringing their religious 
 influences to bear upon the susceptible minds of chil¬ 
 dren and youth. Let men grow up to years of mature 
 judgment and discernment, without prejudice, unbiased 
 for or against Christianity, and not one in ten could be 
 brought into the Church. The mass of Christians are 
 such, in fact, from their youth up. This is a truth 
 acknowleged by the best orthodox authority. 
 
 I have before me 1,4 The Family Christian Almanac 
 for 1838,” published by the American Tract Society, 
 which indorses the following statement of Dr. Spence : 
 “ Make up a congregation of a thousand. Christians. 
 Divide them into five classes, according to the ages at 
 which they became Christians. Then count each of 
 
254 
 
 MEMOKAJSTDA. 
 
 the five classes separately. Of your thousand Chris¬ 
 tians, there were hopefully converted under twenty 
 years of age, 548; between twenty and thirty years of 
 age, 337; between thirty and forty, 86; between forty 
 and fifty, 11; between fifty and sixty, 3; between 
 sixty and seventy, 1.” 
 
 So, then, by their own showing, more than half of 
 the hopeful converts to our churches, are made before 
 the subjects have arrived at an age sufficient to render 
 them capable of understanding what they accept as 
 true. Three-tenths are converted between the ages of 
 twenty and thirty, and only one-tenth after they have 
 arrived at thirty years of age ! What a commentaiy 
 upon the popular system of religious teaching! 
 
 Early impressions are lasting, and it is not strange 
 that those who, in their childhood and youth, when 
 the character is being formed, are completely enveloped 
 in orthodoxy, should, as they grow up, pass into the 
 Church and become as rigid and dogmatic as the most 
 bigoted. It is a well-known fact, with rare exceptions, 
 that the persons who embrace Christianity at an ad¬ 
 vanced period of life, and are very devoted to their 
 faith, zealous and sincere, are persons of weak minds. 
 The “great lights” of the so-called Christian Church, 
 are those who imbibed Christianity with their mother’s 
 milk. 
 
 True it is that, to-day, the popular sentiment is on the 
 side of the Church. Not only so, but the affairs of the 
 Church are completely interwoven with the business 
 and commercial interests of the country, so that one 
 hazards not only reputation, but business prosperity, 
 employment, and daily bread even, by “ denying the 
 
ORTHODOX CHURCH SYSTEM. 
 
 255 
 
 faith ” of his fathers. Who may tell the number in¬ 
 fluenced by considerations such as these to attach them¬ 
 selves to a popular church, with powerful advantages 
 of a pecuniary character! 
 
 The principal accession to the orthodox churches are 
 those who drift with the current. The merchant, me¬ 
 chanic, or physician soon finds that he must attend 
 church to secure the support of its members. And 
 a perfect success requires, in most communities, that 
 he become a member himself. IIow easy, therefore, 
 it is for one desirous of business prosperity, to accustom 
 himself to a regular attendance at church, and, ere 
 long, to take advantage of a little revival of religion, 
 to take sides with the Church. Such a course almost 
 inevitably secures a “ living business.” 
 
 The day has gone by when, to profess Christianity 
 involved the burden of the “ Cross.” It is decidedly 
 the easiest course to take. The Martyrs are those who 
 brave the popular sentiment in religious matters. To 
 practice in conformity to the example of Jesus is quite 
 another thing from the “ profession of religion,” and 
 the two are not necessarily at all connected. 
 
 The great majority of church-members furnish no 
 distinctive evidence of their peculiar “separation from 
 the world.” 
 
 Who can tell, upon taking up a residence in any 
 place, what persons are Christians by profession, and 
 what are not? Will he find the “professors” any less 
 close in driving a bargain ? Will he find them any more 
 benevolent to the poor? Will he find them ^-chewing 
 the filthy weed tobacco, or chewing it? Will he find 
 them total abstainers from drinking beer and hot 
 
256 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 whisky ? Will he find them members of the various 
 reform societies, or conservative laggards in every 
 question of human good? Will he find them warning 
 sinners, who they pretend to believe are bound for hell 
 -—to repent and “ flee the wrath to come,” or daily as¬ 
 sociating with them without one effort to reform them ? 
 My own observation teaches me that these latter con¬ 
 clusions are correct ones. Do our orthodox friends 
 really believe all their creeds include ? If so can they 
 explain their remissness in personal efforts for the “ sal¬ 
 vation of souls ?” 
 
 From such a Church system as I have here faithfully 
 pictured, to the inviting acclivities of “ the better way,” 
 may we all make swift Progress. 
 
 94. 
 
 CHILDREN AND FOOLS SPEAK THE TRUTH. 
 
 New York, December 3, 1864. 
 
 There is a good deal of bad feeling in the city pul¬ 
 pits against dramatic and kindred amusements. Why 
 do the ministers of the Church consider theaters so in¬ 
 jurious ? Is it because theaters compete with the 
 Church ? Is there such a thing as “professional envy ?” 
 . . . I sometimes think that there is a dead, dog¬ 
 
 matical virtue in society, as there is a dead, dogmatical 
 religion in the creeds. . . . “ Children and fools 
 
 speak the truth,” is an old proverb; but the truly wise 
 speak the truth too; the former speak it unconsciously 
 or innocently—the latter, because they know it and 
 
EVIL MARRIAGES. 
 
 257 
 
 worship it. . . . Do not seek the means ; f educa¬ 
 
 tion in far distant parts of the world: for all around 
 thee lie the objects of true education and development. 
 . . . Every moment, in the casual chain of life, do 
 
 your highest duty. Fill up every moment with good 
 thoughts, good sentiments, and good deeds, and thus 
 you will advance healthily in both body and mind. 
 
 . . When the mind elevates itself to higher 
 
 thoughts and purposes, all forms and uses receive an 
 inner and more profound signification. All life, too, 
 receives a deeper and holier explanation. The exterior 
 world becomes full of divinity from the interior world. 
 . . . To observe and examine and advance is our 
 
 first and eternal right; not to mimic, aud repeat, and 
 follow fashion, as monkeys do. . . . “Yea, yea, 
 
 nay, nay,” are words which do not lead into heaven; 
 but they do lead to the door of what is truly sincere 
 and simple. 
 
 95. 
 
 THE EFFECTS OF EVIL MARRIAGES. 
 
 New York, December 12, 1864. 
 
 The newspapers of the city and country insist that 
 all conjugal infidelity is attributable to the teachings 
 of Spiritualism. ... I wonder whether these jour¬ 
 nals, mostly religious , of the orthodox stamp, expect to 
 bring “ the kingdom of heaven on earth ” by promul¬ 
 gating falsehoods? In the doctrines of Spiritualists we 
 find “the germ of thoughts that will revc 'utionize the 
 
258 
 
 MEMOKAJSTDA. 
 
 world.” For as surely as there is a God of harmony in 
 the universe, so surely will woman one day become the 
 acknowledged equal and co-worker of man, in every 
 department of life; and vet be more truly gentle and 
 affectionate than she now is. 
 
 On the surface of society, and seemingly often at its 
 heart, we find corruption, and injustice, and tyranny, 
 festering and eating away, as it were, the very life that 
 is within; yet we see at the same time influences far 
 different in their nature at work, to right these wrongs, 
 to overthrow injustice and selfishness and crime, and to 
 bring about more and more a condition of things where 
 justice, fraternal love, and virtue shall prevail and direct 
 the affairs of men. Let there be ever so little leaven of 
 truth and justice in a cause, and let men only feel and 
 know it, that cause will grow and brave the deadliest 
 opposition; to the strength of truth will be added the 
 strength of numbers, and by-and-by the nations will be 
 found on its side, lifted to a higher and nobler con¬ 
 sciousness of life, by virtue of the sacred principles 
 which they have espoused. It is only men who are 
 bound up in creeds, and adapt them to the selfish 
 promptings of social and political atheism, who doubt 
 or deny the divinity in human nature. lie who is 
 truthful and free, and everywhere carries with him a 
 heart of love and kindness, measures man, not by the 
 length of his creed, but by the life within and its exter¬ 
 nal manifestation. He weighs circumstances, opportu 
 nities, obstacles of ignorance, of social position, of 
 inherited tendencies, and ever finds the God within, 
 however feebly and within however great uncertainty 
 of victory in the short period of earthly life, struggling 
 
EVIL MARRIAGES. 
 
 259 
 
 to the light. In some nook or corner of the spirit, un¬ 
 seen by the superficial and thoughtless, he beholds love 
 and beauty that are immortal and divine. And whether 
 the victory and the reconciliation of life be achieved 
 here or hereafter, this truthful searcher beholds God 
 present in each soul—present now, present for ever. 
 
 What, then, with this estimate of woman's nature 
 and of man's nature, are law-makers and law-executors 
 to do with cases of “ separation,” with the instances of 
 heart-breaking “estrangements,” with the “ murders,” 
 “suicides,” “infanticides,” “elopements,” &c., &c., 
 which occur every day, in all countries the same, 
 whether “divorces” are easy or whether they are for¬ 
 bidden, and in the hundreds of thousands of cases wholly 
 disconnected with the ideas and teachings of Spiritual¬ 
 ism ? For example, take the case of the marriage of 
 the intelligent Mrs. Heaviside to the celebrated Dr. 
 Lardner, at Paris, both of the parties having resided in 
 this country many years ago, at which time the facts 
 were brought before the public. A brief recital of 
 the circumstances connected with that extraordinary 
 elopement might prove interesting and instructive to 
 lawyers. 
 
 The maiden name of Mrs. Heaviside, was Miss Mary 
 Spicer ; she was the only daughter of Col. Spicer, of the 
 British Lancers. She was married to Captain Heavi¬ 
 side, of the army, in 1824. He settled upon her the 
 sum of £20,000 at their marriage, and she was also 
 entitled to £13,000 on the death of her father. The 
 marriage was one of affection, and was blessed with 
 three children. Mrs. Heaviside eloped with Dr. Lard¬ 
 ner on the thirteenth of March, 1840, sixteen years 
 
260 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 after her marriage. Now, why did she do this deed ? The 
 following letter, written to her husband two days after 
 the elopement, contains the lady’s own frank account 
 of the matter:— 
 
 Mks. Heaviside to her Husband. 
 
 Sunday, March 15, 1840. 
 
 I sit down to the painful duty of fulfilling the promise made 
 in my note of Friday. 
 
 I will do it as briefly as the circumstances to be told and the 
 feelings to be expressed will permit. You have observed the con¬ 
 tinued indisposition from which I have suffered for many years 
 past, and which I have allowed you to suppose proceeded from 
 bodily illness. My sufferings, however, were of a different 
 nature, and arose from a different cause. They originated in the 
 mind and in the heart. 
 
 Among the persons introduced to my acquaintance within the 
 last few months, was one, who, unfortunately for me, produced 
 such an impression on my heart as I felt could never be effaced. 
 In the first period of our acquaintance, I flattered myself the 
 sentiments he inspired were those of friendship merely, and I 
 indulged in his society with unguarded, and, as the event proved, 
 most imprudent freedom ; as this, however, was no more thau 
 was done by other ladies by whom his acquaintance and conver¬ 
 sation were eagerly sought, and as I never before had reason to 
 distrust myself, I proceeded, unapprehensive of the consequences. 
 
 He departed from Brighton, and the effects of his absence con¬ 
 vinced me for the first time of the real state of my heart, and I 
 soon felt that my peace of mind was irretrievably lost. He had 
 never presumed to tell me that I was to him an object of affection. 
 Ilis manner and language were, on the contrary, most deferential 
 and respectful. I had seen, however, indications of his feelings 
 toward me, more convincing and unequivocal than mere words 
 could convey. 
 
 In short, without any express communication on the subject, 
 
EVIL MARRIAGES. 
 
 261 
 
 our feelings became mutually known : we felt that every dictate 
 of duty suggested immediate separation and absence ; separation 
 and absence were accordingly tried and continued until I was 
 driven well nigh to madness. I shall not attempt, because the 
 attempt would be unavailing, to describe to you what I suffered; 
 had you been more constantly with me than your avocation 
 usually permitted you to be, the state of my feelings could not 
 have been concealed from you, and it was only by heartrending 
 efforts that I assumed an apparent cheerfulness during the 
 brief and distant intervals you passed with me. You know me 
 too well to doubt my truth when I assure you, that on more than 
 one occasion I was on the point of attempting to rescue all parties 
 from the evil which menaced them, by removing myself to an¬ 
 other world by opium. 
 
 I struggled—God alone knows how I struggled—to subdue this 
 criminal attachment, and to recover sufficient tranquillity of mind 
 to enable me to perform my duties as your wife. I wrote to him 
 declaring my resolution to conquer my affection for him; his 
 good feeling and real regard for me prompted him to acquiesce in 
 this course, and he expressed his entire approbation of it. I 
 tried it—I failed—the struggle almost cost me my life. 
 
 I now became fully convinced that I was forever incapable of 
 discharging toward you the duties and offices of a wife, save by 
 the adoption of a course of systematic dissimulation and unre¬ 
 mitting hypocrisy, from which all my better feelings revolted with 
 loathing and disgust. I felt that the attempt would render my 
 life one continued lie. No course then remained for me by which 
 I could be rescued from the horrors of my position except, either 
 self-destruction, or to withdraw myself openly from you, and 
 resign myself to him who engrossed all my affections; to have 
 adopted the only intermediate measure by indulging in his 
 society, and secretly committing infidelity to you, while I con¬ 
 tinued to profess the feelings and perform the duties of a 
 wife, was one of which I was altogether incapable. I therefore, 
 after viewing my situation and examining my heart, determined 
 to abandon a position which I could not conscientiously maintain ; 
 and I did accordingly, on Friday last, deliberately and advisedly, 
 
262 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 and not in a moment of excitement, or from any sudden impulse 
 of feeling, leave my house and placed myself in the hands of him 
 to whom my affections had been surrendered. 
 
 Need I assure you that up to the hour I quitted youi door I 
 was never guilty of any act injurious to your honor, or incom¬ 
 patible with the vows I had made you ? What I have done I 
 have done openly, and have not added the meanness of falsehood 
 and deception to the sin of infidelity. While by this formal con¬ 
 fession I place in your hands the power of releasing yourself from 
 the tie which binds you to me, and of preserving the rights of our 
 children from the possible consequences of my act, I am prompted 
 as much by feelings as by duty to declare most unequivocally that 
 what I have done has not been caused by an absence of kindness 
 or affection on your part; that, on the contrary, from the day of 
 our marriage to the day of my departure from you, you have 
 been most kind, most tender, most affectionate; and I am deeply 
 sensible that you have deserved a different return from any that 
 has been in my power to make. 
 
 As I believe and trust that my own conduct, as well as that of 
 the person to whom I am now united, has been, up to the hour 
 of my separation from ypu, such as to afford no grounds for 
 objection, and suspicion, you can not, I presume, have any means 
 of knowing who that person is; it is necessary, therefore, that I 
 should inform you that it is Dr. Lardner. Neither he nor my¬ 
 self desire to offer any extenuation, much less defend our conduct. 
 We feel it, however, to be only justice to ourselves to say, that 
 we are prepared to suffer all the evils attendant upon a total 
 change in pecuniary circumstances as the inevitable consequence 
 of the step we have taken. I have come to him destitute of any 
 means of support, and bring nothing with me but the few articles 
 of dress I had upon my person. He has surrendered a large 
 income, which he has for many years enjoyed, arising from his 
 profess ; onal labor. Banished, as he must be. to a foreign country, 
 damaged in character by the very measure which gives me to him, 
 removed from all those connections on which the profitable occupa¬ 
 tion of his time has hitherto depended, he is at this moment uncer¬ 
 tain where or how he may obtain that very small income which 
 
EVIL MARRIAGES. 
 
 263 
 
 will suffice to supply out most moderate wants and wishes. Not 
 foreseeing an exigency like the present, he has not realized any 
 considerable amount of property—nothing, in fa't, which can 
 materially aid us in our present position. We were both fully 
 aware of these formidable difficulties and sacrifices; but he felt 
 that any sacrifice, however great, would be most willingly made 
 by him to soften the evils attendant upon the position which I 
 must assume. 
 
 Now, in conclusion, allow me to express a hope, that after the 
 first anguish attending this misfortune has been assuaged, you 
 will see that your peace and comfort will be more promoted by 
 losing me altogether; for retaining me, without retaining my 
 affection,would be irksome to you, and you would have the pain 
 of seeing ine daily consumed by a hopeless attachment to an¬ 
 other, which would eat into my heart until I should be reduced 
 to the mere shadow of myself, and which must, after a brief 
 period, have brought me to the grave. It is not likely that you 
 will feel any disposition to communicate further with me; but as 
 we still have some common interests, I feel that it is my duty to 
 supply you with the means of such communication should it be 
 necessary. Any thing which is addressed to Mrs. Williams, No. 
 17 Old Burlington Street, will be forwarded to me. 
 
 Believe me still your most 
 
 Sincere and grateful friend, 
 
 Maey Heaviside. 
 
 Now, the question arises : What is to be done with 
 such cases ? She thought and believed that her new 
 affection was criminal—thought of removing herself to 
 u another world by opium ” — was willing to do any¬ 
 thing rather than elope with the celebrated philosopher. 
 She received no hints from Spiritualism, which was not 
 born until eight years after her elopement. Or, take 
 the more recent, not less notable and respectable, case 
 of the separation of Mr. Charles Dickens from his very 
 
264 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 intelligent and excellent wife. He publicly sneers at 
 Spiritualism, attempts to ridicule its philosophy and 
 its facts, yet he takes the very steps and justifies a 
 course which law-makers are now called upon to con¬ 
 sider. 
 
 96. 
 
 DEATH OF THE BODY OF ELIZA W. FARNHAM. 
 
 New York, December 15, 1864. 
 
 To-day Mrs. Farnham, the reformer,, closed her 
 earthly career, and opened her superior life. Her la¬ 
 bors for humanity have been many and noble. Her 
 mind was brave, benevolent, intelligent, and progres¬ 
 sive ; and thus her life for the spheres had a good be¬ 
 ginning. Early in the autumn of 1862, she returned 
 from California, with the manuscript of her great work, 
 “Woman and Her Era,” well advanced toward com¬ 
 pletion. An incident connected with her return is 
 worthy of mention, particularly as to it we are indebted 
 for this valuable contribution to Progressive Literature. 
 The narration is thus given in her own words:— 
 
 “ Being in Santa Cruz, Cal., in tlie early part of June (1862), 
 and intending to come East during the summer, I one morning 
 
 stated to my friend, Mrs. K-, in whose house I was visiting, 
 
 that I had concluded to sail on the 21st of July. While we were 
 talking on the subject, Mrs. Glover, a medium, a resident of the 
 town came in, and was presently influenced by a spirit whom I 
 had known when a child of about ten years, who said:— 
 
 “ ‘We do not wish you to go on the vessel you talk of.’ 
 
 “ I did not know what steamer would sail from San Francisco 
 
ELIZA W. FAKNHAM. 
 
 265 
 
 on the 21st of July, and had not even thought about it at all; but 
 I asked: 
 
 “ ‘ Why not ? Is n’t she safe ?’ 
 
 “ ‘ They have been overhauling her, but she is wrong about her 
 fire-works.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Won’t she get to Panama?’ 
 
 “ ‘No, she will never get to Panama again.’ 
 
 “ ‘ Will she be lost at sea?’ 
 
 “ ‘No, she will get to the land someichere doicn there , but half 
 her people will be lost.’ ” 
 
 In consequence of this warning, she did not take 
 passage on the ill-fated “ Golden Gate,” and her life 
 was prolonged to complete the book, the manuscript of 
 which would have been in her possession, and doubtless 
 lost to the world, had she not been persuaded from fol¬ 
 lowing her first intent. One of her public lectures 
 contained ideas somewhat to this effect: It is not in 
 the discovery of new and heretofore unsuspected re¬ 
 ligious truths, that we expect Progress; but in very 
 unexpected applications of the long known and simplest 
 truths of Nature. It is sufficiently difficult to inspire 
 men with the idea of high spiritual truths ; but this is 
 much easier than to procure their practical assent to 
 them. Let the absolute requirements of Truth be 
 peremptorily laid upon business, pleasure, social usage, 
 political economy, and the whole of public procedure, 
 and it would be like the letting loose of tornadoes in 
 the forest. Let an angel come down to measure the 
 ways of men, and to change all that disagreed with 
 Justice in the family, in the shop, in the ways ot‘ com¬ 
 merce, in social and political life, and the clamor of re¬ 
 sistance would fill the heavens! What has been the 
 occasion of all the heat and fury which has gone forth 
 12 
 
266 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 upon the slavery question, but the simple endeavor to 
 procuro for a despised elass the simplest element of 
 justice ? The whole mighty fermentation of England, 
 the irrepressible throes of Italy, are but the result of 
 the simplest truths of Progress. Little by little it 
 leavens the lump. Each encroachment upon embodied 
 and organic selfishness brings on a battle. Behold, in¬ 
 deed, the ax is now laid at the root ; and every tree 
 which bringeth not forth good fruit shall be hewn down 
 and cast into the fire ! 
 
 Important changes are to be made slowly. There is 
 too much human happiness involved in every form of 
 social usage to justify rash experiments or sudden 
 changes, which may be from bad to worse. Neverthe¬ 
 less, no age will be allowed to shrink from the applica¬ 
 tion of ascertained truths to known imperfections or 
 misusages. Forever to pray “ Thy kingdom come,'’ 
 and forever to fight each step of advance as a rash in¬ 
 novation, is the wisdom of conservatism. Some would 
 be glad if God’s kingdom would descend, as the rain¬ 
 bow comes, in the air; a thing for the eye; a picture 
 on the clouds, which shines over the world without 
 changing it. Yes ! it will come like a rainbow !—the 
 sweep and the scowl of the storm first, which rends and 
 purifies, and then the peaceful bow on the retiring 
 cloud. The coming will be seen in the growing hu¬ 
 manity of the public mind; in the application of re¬ 
 ligious justice to the processes of society; in the 
 eradication of all errors; and the subversion of all hoary 
 evils of established fruitfulness, by which the progress 
 of men in knowledge ar.d goodness has been restrained. 
 
THE USES OF LIFE. 
 
 2(17 
 
 97. 
 
 PROFESSOR MAPES ON THE USES OF LIFE. 
 
 New York, December 18, 18G4. 
 
 I am now recalling the fact that years ago Professor 
 Mapes spent half an hour at our cottage in Hartford. I 
 listened to his accumulated rich treasures of experience 
 in Spiritualism. Ilis refined wife was a very surprising 
 medium for painting exquisite plants and flowers. Ilis 
 memory seemed to overflow with the numerous scien¬ 
 tific tests he had instituted. His mind was positive on 
 the subject. He had examined the various Hew York 
 mediums; and was certain that the spirits caused the 
 manifestations. 
 
 There was a rather gaudy splendor in his verbal 
 equipage—a kind of artificial luster or exaggeration in 
 some of his statements concerning the uncommon facts 
 in science—but he was frank, reasonable, and unequivo¬ 
 cal in all he said respecting the incontestible proofs of 
 Spiritualism. He seemed to love Nature and life like 
 a child. It is a common error, he thought, to find fault 
 with Nature, and to entirely overlook her beauties; and 
 in consequence many suppose that there are no pleas¬ 
 ures in this life; that from childhood to old age we are 
 surrounded by sorrows. He held that this is both false 
 and impious. 
 
MKMOKAKDA. 
 
 268 
 
 The Great Creator has given us the means of enjoy¬ 
 ing life and rendering it one continued source of pleas¬ 
 ure; but we must use means. Improve the mind, learn 
 so much of the sciences as to feel an interest in all the 
 natural aifairs of life, and for ever afterward misan¬ 
 thropy will leave our doors. 
 
 Is it not monstrous to find a full-grown man unac¬ 
 quainted with the principles of the earth’s rotations—to 
 view sunrise without knowing the cause—to feel the 
 changes of seasons without ever trying to learn why 
 such changes occur ? But how much worse is it to see 
 a being endowed with reason, so besotted with want of 
 mental energy as to be sour with himself and the world. 
 If he be inclined to indulge in moral feeling, instead of 
 an uplifted eye, adoring with a lively and happy heart, 
 thanking God for surrounding pleasures, he talks of his 
 trials, calls our beautiful, happy world, made by the 
 hand of God himself, a vale of sorrow, and speaks of 
 the world to come as if he were anxious to leave this. 
 Is not all this the effect of morbid slothfulness? Is it 
 not sinful? Would it not conduce to such a man’s 
 happiness to study so much of the sciences as would 
 contribute to his amusement, and enable him to enjoy 
 the beauties which surround him ? 
 
 The word science seems to many as a scarecrow or 
 a bugbear. It simply means knowledge reduced to a 
 system, and so arranged as to be conveniently taught, 
 easily remembered, and readily applied. 
 
 Professor Mapes exerted a wide influence in the field 
 of Agriculture; was a genuine American ; and a work¬ 
 ing, as well as a theoretical, farmer. 
 
TESTIMONY OF JUDGE EDMONDS. 
 
 269 
 
 © 8 . 
 
 THE WORLD ACCEPTING THE TESTIMONY OF JUDGE 
 EDMONDS. 
 
 New York, December 20, 18G4. 
 
 The truly candid editors of magazines and respecta¬ 
 ble journals are gradually finding out that “there must 
 be something in Spiritualism.” To-day one of our best 
 papers contains a clear and candid statement of the 
 “ Phenomenal Aspects” of the question. At last, too, 
 the world begins to respect the testimony of Judge 
 Edmonds. One public man, speaking of this distin¬ 
 guished and fearless advocate of Spiritualism, says : “ 1 
 knew him as a man of finished classical education, a 
 profound lawyer, astute in his investigations and in an¬ 
 alyzing testimony, unsurpassed in his legal opinions 
 and in the discharge of his high judicial duties;—and 
 above all, I knew him to be a man of unimpeachable 
 integrity, and the last to be duped by an imposture, or 
 carried away by a delusion.” 
 
 In 1851 Judge Edmonds spent a Sunday with us in 
 the Hartford cottage. There was a meeting appointed 
 at the public hall that evening, and he had the kind¬ 
 ness to attend as a guest; but, in order to fully explain 
 some of my allusions to his remarkable experience, he 
 arose and addressed the congregation. It was a great 
 
270 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 event for the citizens of Old Hartford. The morning 
 papers gave reports of the Judge’s remarks; which, in 
 corrected form, were substantially as follows:— 
 
 My attention was first drawn to the intercourse by the rappings, 
 then the most common, but now the most inconsiderable, mode 
 of communing. Of course I was on the look-out for deception, 
 and at first relied upon my senses and the conclusions which my 
 reason might draw from their evidence. But I was at a loss to 
 tell how the mediums could cause what I witnessed under these 
 circumstances; the mediums walking the length of a suite of par¬ 
 lors, forty or fifty feet, and the rappings being distinctly heard 
 five or six feet behind them, the whole distance backward and 
 forward several times; being heard near the top of a mahogany 
 door, above where the medium could reach, and as if struck hard 
 with a fist; being heard on the bottom of a car when traveling, 
 on a railroad, and on the floor and the table, when seated at lunch, 
 at an eating-house by the side of the road; being heard at dif¬ 
 ferent parts of the room, sometimes several feet distant from the 
 medium, and where she could not reach—sometimes on the table, 
 and immediately after on the floor, and then at different parts of 
 the table, in rapid succession, as to feel the vibration as well as 
 hear the sounds; sometimes when the hands and feet of the 
 medium were both firmly and carefully held by some one of the 
 party, and sometimes on a table when no one touched it. 
 
 After depending upon my senses, as to these various phases of 
 the phenomenon, I invoked the aid of science, and with the as¬ 
 sistance of an accomplished electrician and his machinery, and of 
 eight or ten intelligent, educated, shrewd persons, I examined the 
 matter. We pursued our inquiries many days, and established 
 to our satisfaction two things:—1st, that the sounds were not 
 produced by the agency of any person present or near us; and 
 2d, that they were not forthcoming at our will and pleasure. 
 
 In the mean time, another feature attracted my attention, and 
 that was the “ physical manifestations,” as they are termed 
 Thus, I have known a pine table with four legs lifted bodily up 
 from the floor, in the center of a circle of six or eight persons, 
 
TESTIMONY OF JUDGE EDMONDS. 
 
 271 
 
 turned upside down and laid upon its top at our feet, then lifted 
 up over our heads, and put leaning against the back of the sofa 
 on which we sat. I have known that same table to be tilted up 
 on two legs, its top at an angle with the fleor of forty-five de¬ 
 grees, when it neither fell over of itself, nor could any person 
 present put it back on its four legs. I have seen a mahogany 
 table, having only a center leg, and with a lamp burning upon it, 
 lifted from the floor at least a foot, in spite of the efforts of those 
 present, and shaken backward and forward as one would shake a 
 goblet in his hand, and the lamp retain its place, though its glass 
 pendants rang again. I have seen the same table tipped up with 
 the lamp upon it, so far that the lamp must have fallen off unless 
 retained there by something else than its own gravity, yet it fell 
 not, moved not. I have known a dinner bell taken from a high 
 shelf in a closet, rung over the heads of four or five persons in 
 that closet, then rung around the room over the heads of twelve 
 or fifteen persons in the back parlor, and then borne through the 
 folding doors to the farther end of the front parlor, and there 
 dropped on the floor. I have frequently known persons pulled 
 about with a force which it was impossible for them to resist, and 
 once, when all my strength was added in vain to that of the one 
 thus affected. I have known a mahogany chair thrown on its 
 side, and moved swiftly back and forth on the floor, no one touch¬ 
 ing it, through a room where there were at least a dozen people 
 sitting, yet no one was touched, and it was repeatedly stopped 
 within a few inches of me, when it was coming with a violence 
 which, if not arrested, must have broken my legs. 
 
 This is not a tithe- — nay ! not a hundredth part of what I have 
 witnessed of the same character, but it is enough to show the 
 general nature of what was before me. 
 
 Angels speed this, noble Judge ! He is a man of re¬ 
 markable integrity, and the very soul of courage. It 
 was truly remarked that this fearless independence has 
 often caused him to war upon popular prejudices, and 
 in no respect has that been more strikingly evinced 
 than in the course he has pursued with regard to the 
 
272 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 spiritual manifestations. As a man of large and varied 
 experience, and of great practical sagacity, with all the 
 advantages of a long legal, legislative, and judicial 
 training and experience, it would have been difficult to 
 find a man more thoroughly competent to a full and 
 searching investigation into the truth or falsehood of 
 spiritual manifestations than Judge Edmonds. 
 
 99. 
 
 THACKERAY AND DICKENS LOOKING AT SPIRITUALISM. 
 
 New York, January 12, 1866. 
 
 It is a curious fact, that our two leading novelists, 
 each in his own particular periodical, have come out 
 precisely at the same time on the physical phase of 
 Spiritualism.* The battle that has been fought out in 
 America to the great discomfiture of the press, and to 
 the greater growth of Spiritualism, is just beginning 
 here. We congratulate Mr. Thackeray on the manli¬ 
 ness and common sense with which he has met the 
 question. He has allowed “a friend of five-and-twenty 
 years’ standing, and for whose good faith and honor¬ 
 able character he can vouch,” to state plainly the 
 physical phenomena which he has seen in highly re¬ 
 spectable private families; on one of which occasions 
 Mr. Home was present, and floated in the air. These 
 phenomena, which strike the press with such profound 
 
 * This entire review of Mr. Dickens is taken from the London (Eng.) 
 Spiritual Magazine for September, 1860. 
 
TIIACKKKAY AND DICKENS. 
 
 273 
 
 astonishment, are merely such as the Americans for the 
 last ten years, and very like what the Chinese for the 
 last three thousand years, profess to have been witness¬ 
 ing, and which we have been detailing to onr readers 
 for these many months, on the authority not only of 
 our own eyes and other senses, but also on those of 
 some of the most learned and acute men in the king¬ 
 dom, some of whom have been previously as determined 
 in their opposition to the belief in these things as Mr. 
 Dickens himself. 
 
 We can not but think Mr. Dickens pre-eminently 
 unfortunate. It is not long ago that he knocked his 
 head against the Chestnut ghost, and got a severe re¬ 
 buff; and now that his able rival has ventured to give 
 a fair field to the statement of the candid observations 
 and perfect convictions of the truth of these psycho¬ 
 logical facts — he comes forward to announce that he 
 has discovered them to be the most egregious imposi¬ 
 tions. And where has he discovered these impositions? 
 In the same fair and conspicuous arena as the friend of 
 Mr. Thackeray ? Has he gone to the houses of highly 
 respectable and firmly believing private people, who 
 can have no possible motive to deceive, to make his ob¬ 
 servations ? Has he sat down in the circles of persons 
 as educated and honorable as himself, and who have 
 the most serious and sacred conviction of the reality of 
 these phenomena; who would revolt at any imposture, 
 and who would lament, as the shaking of their faith in 
 a most comfortable persuasion, the possibility of any 
 trickery in these seances f This, at least, Mr. Dickens 
 should have done before he impugned the high veracity, 
 the honor, and the common sense of hundreds, and of 
 
274 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 thousands of people in this country, as clear-headed and 
 observant as himself; of millions in America and other 
 parts of the world. 
 
 No! Mr. Dickens has thought fit to denounce the 
 physical demonstrations of Spiritualism, upon a single 
 visit to a professional demonstrator or medium, where 
 he paid his half-crown, and where he went with the 
 foregone conclusion that he was about to detect an im¬ 
 posture. Is that, we ask, the way to settle a great 
 question, in which not this single medium, but hun¬ 
 dreds of thousands of mediums, and the habitual ob¬ 
 servers of those mediums, is concerned? Where men 
 and women as able and as highly—and in many in¬ 
 stances more highly—educated than himself, and of the 
 most undoubted capacity for determining the truth or 
 falsehood of what they see, are implicated ? On the 
 contrary, his conduct has been equally rash, equally 
 foolish, equally capable of immediate exposure, with 
 the senseless acts of the late Dr. Dionvsius Lardner, 
 who was repeatedly attempting to prove that steam 
 could never succeed; that it could not get across the 
 Atlantic, and that trains under the utmost possible 
 stimulus could never run more than thirty miles an 
 hour on land. Why will Mr. Dickens so rashly at¬ 
 tempt the impossible? If he could prove that the 
 mediums to whom he went—“the one old and the 
 other young”—were impostors, what would he have 
 gained ? Nothing ! lie would not have advanced one 
 step toward the refutation of the claims of Spiritual¬ 
 ism, of which these physical demonstrations are but 
 one phase; for at the moment when they read his ar¬ 
 ticle, hundreds would laugh at his folly, knowing from 
 
TIIACKERAY AND DICKENS. 
 
 275 
 
 years of observation on all sides of them, that precisely 
 the same kind of phenomena, and still more wonderful, 
 are daily taking ‘place in private families of all ranks 
 from very near the throne down to the humblest houses, 
 where no imposture can obtrude itself; where the soul’s 
 hopes of immortality and of Christian truth are too 
 deeply associated with what he terms nonsense to suf¬ 
 fer them to tolerate it for a moment. Does Mr. Dick 
 ens think that he is the only man possessing a decent 
 share of shrewdness? That he alone is capable of 
 using his eyes and his judgment to the detection of im¬ 
 posture, or the establishment of truth ? That his testi¬ 
 mony is to be taken in preference to that of millions; 
 to that of judges, physicians, and barristers, and logi 
 cians, and experimentalists, who have spent their lives 
 in abstruse inquiry, and in tracing out all the windings 
 and subtleties of chicane ? The inference is that of an 
 assumption most preposterous and offensive. 
 
 Now our opinion is that, so far from Mr. Dickens 
 being at all qualified for philosophical inquiry, the 
 long habits of his literary life have very much disquali¬ 
 fied him for the search after any great truth. Mr. 
 Dickens has not been seeking after the truth so much 
 as after the melodramatic and grotesque in effect. He 
 has mixed so much, in pursuit of material for his 
 fictions, with the lowest and most corrupt and degraded 
 of the London populace; with cadgers, and coster¬ 
 mongers, and touters, and swindlers, and artful dodg¬ 
 ers, for his Quilps, his Fagans, and Dick Swivelers, 
 that his mind has become nearly ruined for any other 
 department of inquiry. Wherever he goes, he looks 
 for low cunning, and sordid trick, and base motive, 
 
276 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 and a false and fictitious state of things. It is as great 
 a mistake for him to assume the office of inquiry into 
 the nature and phenomena of Spiritualism, as it was 
 some years ago, for liim to attempt an account of Italy 
 in his tour there. Italy with all her grand antiquity, 
 her great and melancholy story, her beauty, her 
 sublime arts, her wonderful evidences of the Pagan and 
 the Christian past; her fragments of temples, and 
 palaces, and amphitheaters, and tombs, and triumphal 
 arches, in which and among which the masters of the 
 world once moved, and the oppressed of the world 
 suffered; and where the proudest of the proud tri¬ 
 umphed ; and the noblest souls wept tears of blood; 
 and where the groans and aspirations of trodden 
 Christianity are yet perpetuated in mausolea, and in 
 the living clutch of a priestly despotism. Italy, 
 whispering from her deep foundations, from her tawny 
 Campagna, from her mountains, her olive-yards, and 
 her vineyards, of a coming resurrection of liberty and 
 truth,—was not the scene for Charles Dickens. His 
 eyes were still tinged with the vapors of Clerkenwell 
 and Rotherhithe; his senses still inhaled the perfumes 
 of Wapping and Ratcliff’e Highway; and he presented 
 his astonished readers, not with the sublime, not with 
 the touching and the beautiful of “ The Niobe of Ra¬ 
 tions,” but only with the odd, the vulgar, the flippant, 
 and the grotesque. Let Mr. Dickens adhere to his 
 peculiar province, where he shines. We shall always 
 be glad to have his stories, with all their exaggerations 
 and their mannerism, because they give us as well, real 
 touches of human nature. But let him not deceive 
 himself; we are not likely to adopt him as a pioneer of 
 
THACKERAY AND DICKENS. 
 
 277 
 
 psychological or theological truth. "We appeal from 
 Dickens, indulging in fiction and distortion,- to Thack¬ 
 eray and honest and fair inquiry. 
 
 But Mr. Dickens has given other examples of his 
 learning. He tells us that these sorts of things have 
 been going on in all ages. Very true. And because 
 this faith in the ministry of spirits, these evidences of 
 spiritual surroundings have so risen up in all ages, spite 
 of ignorance, and atheism, and literary presumption, 
 every sensible man is satisfied that it is a great and eternal 
 truth, underlying all our life, and binding it up with 
 the life to come. It is because it has thus manifested 
 itself in all ages, and in all countries,—to Hesiod and 
 Homer, Socrates and Plato, to the great dramatists of 
 Greece; to Cicero and Seneca and Tacitus in ancient 
 Rome; to all the Christian Fathers; to the Catholic 
 church in all ages; to our own church, which has its 
 ministry of saints and angels; to Fenelon, Luther, 
 Melanchthon, Erasmus, and Tauler ; to Fox, and all the 
 Wesleys ; to many of our celebrated bishops ; to Bacon 
 and Milton, and Addison, and Johnson ; to the most 
 eminent leaders of the Dissenters; to Doddridge, and 
 Scott, and Baxter, and Adam Clarke, cum multis aliis; 
 that we know that it is a condition of the race, and 
 will live to the end of time, and knock down all the 
 proud and self-inflated Sadducees who shill venture a 
 blow at it. 
 
278 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 100. 
 
 A SPIRIT DESCRIBING THE EVILS OF CAPITAL PUNISH- 
 
 MENT. 
 
 New York, January 20, 1865. 
 
 At a recent meeting of the “ Moral Police Fraternity,” 
 an account was given from the spirit of a very noble- 
 hearted gentleman who had innocently suffered “ death 
 by hanging.” He came to call our attention to the 
 injustice of legal strangulations; more especially to re¬ 
 monstrate against ever relying upon what is called 
 “ circumstantial evidence.” The following case seems 
 to give all the important facts : There was a trial and 
 execution in Dublin, more than a century since, which 
 excited great interest. It was that of a surgeon, well 
 known in society, and esteemed for his amiable char¬ 
 acter, and remarkable for his humanity to the poor; he 
 lived in a retired street. 
 
 It happened one evening that the milk-woman found 
 the street door a-jar, and not being answered when she 
 knocked at it, she made ber way to the kitchen. She 
 had no sooner entered it, than uttering a loud shriek, 
 she called loudly for help. The passers-by and persons 
 from the neighboring houses were soon on the spot, and 
 the kitchen was crowded in a short time. 
 
 A sad spectacle presented itself. The young worn in, 
 
THE EVILS OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. 
 
 279 
 
 who was servant to the surgeon, was lying dead on the 
 flags, while her dress was stained with the blood which 
 had issued from a wound in the side. In looking about 
 the floor, a surgical instrument was found, which also 
 was stained with blood. A medical man, who was 
 present, ascertained that it was the instrument which 
 had inflicted the death wound. On a further search, a 
 shirt saturated with blood was found, huddled up in the 
 coal-hole; it was marked with the initials of the sur¬ 
 geon’s name. 
 
 He was immediately seized, and, though protesting 
 his innocence, he was evidently under considerable 
 agitation. The silent witnesses which were brought 
 against him were thought sufticient, to prove his guilt, 
 and all attempts to account for their having been found 
 near the unfortunate girl were scouted in the cross- 
 examination. A living witness was also produced in 
 court, an old lady, who deposed that she lived in the 
 house directly facing that where the surgeon resided; 
 that her drawing-room window commanded a view of 
 his premises, and that it was customary with her to 
 watch his movements; she deposed that she had not 
 taken her eyes off' his house all that day on which the 
 murder was perpetrated ; that no one had left or enter¬ 
 ed his house that day but himself; that he went home 
 at about four o’clock, his usual hour of returning; and 
 that on knocking at the door it was opened by the 
 servant, who, to the best of her belief, shut it fast when 
 her master went in ; that she saw him three or four 
 times pass the windows of his sitting-room ; that the 
 last time she saw him was about an hour and a half 
 before the murder; that she observed him look down 
 
280 
 
 MKMOKANDA. 
 
 both sides of the street, and then shut down the windo\y ; 
 he held something in his hand, which she thinks may 
 have been a surgical instrument; but this she could 
 not swear. 
 
 In summing up the evidence, the horror which the 
 prisoner had betrayed, "when looking on the body of his 
 murdered servant, was evidently dwelt on as a crown¬ 
 ing proof of guilt. The defense was weak and meager 
 —a bare denial of the crime being its chief substance. 
 A thrill of horror pervaded the court. 
 
 The jury retired—a brief space sufficed for delibera¬ 
 tion—they returned with a verdict of “ Guilty.” The 
 judge having donned his black cap, exhorted the 
 prisoner on the heinousness of his crime, and pro¬ 
 nounced the fatal sentence. 
 
 It is said that the condemned showed much for¬ 
 titude throughout, and persisted to the last in assert¬ 
 ing his innocence. He was brought to the place of 
 execution amidst a vast concourse and the execrations 
 of the people. 
 
 We were told by an old gentleman that his father 
 remembered having been held up in his nurse’s arms 
 to see the procession to the place of execution. He was 
 often spoken of in the social circle as one who had been 
 held in much estimation. His untimely end was lament¬ 
 ed, but there were few who believed it undeserved. 
 
 It was after the lapse of several years that some <me, 
 who had emigrated to America, returned; he was ill 
 in mind; something lay heavy on his heart and dis¬ 
 turbed his conscience; he made his confession to his 
 priest; he had been the “ sweetheart” of the murdered 
 girl; she had let him in by the back way, early in the 
 
THE EVILS OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. 
 
 281 
 
 evening, to take tea with her. As they sat side ly side, 
 he asked her for a kiss, which he would have snatched, 
 when she denied him ; she took up her master’s surgical 
 instrument, which she had to clean, and which lay on 
 the table beside her, and she pointed it toward him 
 jestingly ; in a struggle, she fell on it, and it pierced 
 her side ; he snatched the shirt, which she had in her 
 lap to mend, and stanched the blood which was flowing 
 with it; but life soon ebbed away, and he saw the girl 
 that he loved—who had been laughing and talking with 
 him but a few moments before—lying dead beside him ; 
 his agony only gave way to the instinct of self-preser¬ 
 vation, when he thought he heard the sounds of 
 approaching footsteps ; he thrust the blood-stained shirt 
 into the coal-hole, and setting the hall-door a-jar, he 
 concealed himself behind it, and wdien the crowd had 
 collected on hearing the alarm, he mingled with it, and 
 then passed into the street, and on to the quay, and 
 getting on board an American ship, he sailed in a few 
 hours. When he learned that the surgeon’s life had 
 been forfeited, he was overwhelmed with anguish. The 
 only reparation in his power was to clear his character 
 from the dreadful imputation ; but though he felt a 
 relief in this act of justice, yet it could not undo the 
 injury inflicted. 
 
 On hearing of such a tragedy, the questions are natu¬ 
 rally suggested : May not such have often occurred ?— 
 and may they not again ?—and is there no remedy ' 
 
282 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 lOl. 
 
 SPIRITS APPEARING IN THEIR CAST-OFF EARTHLY GAR. 
 
 MENTS. 
 
 New York, January 22, 1865. 
 
 The great difficulty in explaining the phenomena of 
 apparitions, says an English writer, is to account satis¬ 
 factorily for the spectral appearance of garments as 
 well as persons. The candid ghost-seer, in relating his 
 experiences is baffled by the scoffing logician, who ex¬ 
 claims, “ I have no objection to believe in the appari¬ 
 tion of the soul of your grandmother, but don’t tell 
 me that you really and literally saw the ghost of her 
 night-cap and apron! Your dead uncle, too, whom 
 you saw drowning when you and he were a thousand 
 miles apart; is his pea-jacket endowed with an immor¬ 
 tal spirit?” Our credulous friend is puzzled, and 
 meekly acquiesces in the conclusion—“Well, perhaps 
 it was all a delusion.” To meet this difficulty, I ven¬ 
 ture to offer, as a solution, the following hypothesis: 
 that every significant action of our lives—in the gar¬ 
 ments we wear, and in the attitudes and gestures of our 
 humanity—is vitally photographed or depicted in the 
 spirit-world ; and that the angels, under God’s direction, 
 have the power of exhibiting, as a living picture, any 
 specific circumstances or features to those who have the 
 
CAST OFF EARTHLY GARMENTS. 
 
 283 
 
 gift of spiritual sight, and who are intended to be in¬ 
 fluenced by the manifestations. These tableaux may 
 represent still life, or they may be animated by certain 
 spirits appointed for the purpose, or by the identical 
 spirits of the persons whose forms are shown, when the 
 apparitions are the images of those who have departed 
 this world. 
 
 What an idea of infinity and divine government does 
 it give us, to suppose that after death we shall move 
 through a grand picture-gallery of our own deeds self- 
 delineated. What a subject of contemplation and awe 
 to those who are debating in their own minds the 
 character of their actions! What a check to those who 
 have not yet quite decided to perpetrate something un¬ 
 worthy of future exhibition ! And wdiat a consolation 
 to believe that true repentance for any vicious deeds 
 may secure the removal of the portraits of such deeds 
 from the gallery of celestial art! 
 
 This idea of vitally photographing in the spirit 
 spheres the persons and scenes of this world, may be 
 used to explain another curious class of phenomena— 
 those exhibited in what is called “ traveling clairvoy¬ 
 ance,” in which the spirit of the clairvoyant is stated to 
 leave the body and go on journeys, describing events 
 happening at a distance. But in studying this subject, 
 a great difficulty presents itself. The clairvoyant some¬ 
 times sees places not as they appear now, but as they 
 existed many years ago, before modern improvements 
 and restorations were effected ; and minute events, of 
 which the clairvoyant never had, and never could have 
 had, any knowledge, are narrated as occurring, which 
 really happened perhaps half a century before the time 
 
2S4 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 they are seen. Here our Spiritual Photographic 
 Theory comes to our assistance, and helps us to clear 
 up tlie mystery. 
 
 We are at liberty to suppose that the angels unroll 
 before the spiritual sight of the clairvoyant, a grand 
 panorama of past scenes and events in their order of 
 time and sequence of action ; so that without leaving 
 the body, the soul can discern literally and faithfully 
 things and persons that have long since disappeared 
 from this world, as well as those that are now actually 
 in existence. Or we may believe, that in the trance, 
 another spirit enters and takes possession of the body of 
 the clairvoyant to perform this discerning and descrip¬ 
 tive office.* 
 
 103. 
 
 INVESTIGATIONS OP ROBERT DALE OWEN. 
 
 New York, January 30, 1865. 
 
 After Rev. T. W. Higginson and Dr. R. T. Hallock, 
 Dr. H. T. Childs, and others, comes Hon. R. D. Owen. 
 He enters the ranks of Spiritualism after long and 
 thorough investigation. As a thinker and historian he 
 is the embodiment of patience, candor, and complete¬ 
 ness. His testimony is perfect. He brings great natu¬ 
 ral intellectual and moral endowments into the field; 
 and as a scholar, judged by the standard of worldly 
 wisdom, he is second to no person in public life. He 
 comes among Spiritualists with the “peu of a ready 
 
 * The foregoing is extracted from Mr. Crosland’s very excellent little 
 brochure entitled “ Apparitions; a New Theory." 
 
ROBERT DALE OWEN. 
 
 285 
 
 writer,” and with a mind well acquainted with “ the 
 ways of the world.” The press and the pulpit have 
 become the creators of public opinion—the agents for 
 good or evil—the promulgators of truth or falsehood. 
 And those powers, when they can be united for truth 
 and goodness in both hemispheres, may, with ease, cre¬ 
 ate, before the termination of this decade, a new public 
 opinion in favor of spiritual ideas, and an irresistible 
 general desire to have them carried, on both sides of the 
 Atlantic, faithfully into practice. I now, in the name 
 of humanity and common sense, call upon Spiritualists 
 in both hemispheres to unite, heart and soul, in this 
 great and good cause. Let the world be regenerated— 
 emancipated from diseases, crimes, and their evils—and 
 the human race, in peace and charity, enabled to enjoy 
 the abundance of the good things of the Spirit, which 
 nature has so lavishly provided for all. 
 
 Mr. Owen, it seems to me, is the man whom Spiritu¬ 
 alists should elect to fill the “editorial chair” in that 
 sanctum from which might emanate the best American 
 Spiritual Magazine. He would sweep out of our ranks all 
 mere frivolity and sensationalism, and the common arti¬ 
 ficial excitements, which, as every one knows, gradu¬ 
 ally vitiate the taste and "weaken the mind, like delete¬ 
 rious stimulants too long taken into the stomach ; and, 
 instead, he would infuse a closer system of investiga¬ 
 tion, awaken interest in the pure facts of our experience, 
 and so elevate and ennoble a beloved cause. 
 
MEMORANDA. 
 
 286 
 
 103. 
 
 VISION OP A FRIEND IN GERMANY. 
 
 Philadelphia, Pa., October 18, 1865 
 
 Before this morning session of the National Conven¬ 
 tion of Spiritualists, to which we came as delegates from 
 the New York Lyceum, I took a clairvoyant observa¬ 
 tion of Mr. G. C. Wittig, the esteemed and thoroughly- 
 devoted translator of the Ilarmonial Philosophy into 
 the German language. . . . What I discerned this 
 
 morning strongly reminded me of a view I had of him, 
 at his home in Breslau, Prussia, about the tenth of 
 September, 1862 . . . . There was in the house (as 
 I now recall the facts) a pleasant-faced man, rather be¬ 
 low the ordinary stature, talking with Mrs. Wittig con¬ 
 cerning one of her two sons. Three girls were in the 
 house, and the person, who was the object of my visit, 
 was just writing on an envelope the name of a book-mer¬ 
 chant in Saxony. . . . He seems to have dreamed 
 in youth that, in some sequestered place, near his native 
 village, among the lovely hills, he would find a treasure 
 to enrich and bless his beloved parents. . . . The 
 
 ideas of the Harmonial Philosophy, flashing like stars 
 in the firmament of his reason, are the silver and gold 
 of his dreams. . . . He dreams now that his be¬ 
 
 loved fatherland will be abundantly enriched by his 
 
CHILDREN’S PROGRESSIVE LYCEUM. 
 
 237 
 
 tr anslations. . . . His translation of Mr. Partridge’s 
 
 chapter on Spiritualism is valuable; but—who will read 
 it? Who, as yet, will purchase and read any one of the 
 translations by this faithful Wittig? . . . But this 
 
 morning a new light breaks in upon his waiting reason. 
 There is a note from a dear distant friend, conveying 
 tidings of encouragement. May his heart grow stronger, 
 as his mind sees deeper and higher! Very slow will 
 come his reward. 
 
 104. 
 
 THOUGHTS ON THE CHILDREN’S PROGRESSIVE LYCEUM. 
 
 St. Louis, Mo., December 14, 1865. 
 
 Yesterday, a large number of the enterprising peo¬ 
 ple of this city met in Mercantile Hall. . . . My 
 
 discourse to them was, in substance, as follows : — 
 
 We hold, first, that the Universe is the product of 
 Divine Intelligence, perfect in attributes, harmonious 
 in parts and purposes, and essentially unchangeable. 
 
 We hold, secondly, that the human mind is a finite 
 embodiment of the infinite ; and that, by much and 
 diligent searching, man can perceive and comprehend 
 much of the nature and operations of the infinite. 
 
 Such comprehension is wisdom. It differs from 
 knowledge as much as substance differs from shadow. 
 Wisdom is akin to the intelligence that lives in the life 
 of things, while knowledge reorganizes the shape 
 locality, color, and uses of things, without discerning 
 their ultimate purpose and divine significance. Knowl- 
 
288 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 edge is external; wisdom, internal. The intellectual 
 faculties delight in perception and comprehension 
 of “things,” while the inmost parts of the mind, its r 
 spirit’s intuitions, delight in the fellowship and infinite 
 deep of eternal “ principles.” 
 
 Now, the question arises, what is true Education ? 
 It consists, we reply, in wisdom. But it is true, also, 
 that no man’s education is “complete” unless his mind 
 is stored with facts , with knowledge of things, as part 
 of the principles which constitute wisdom. 
 
 Memory is an essential of knowledge, as a house is 
 necessary to furniture, or as canvas to the lights and 
 shadows of a picture. Without memory—which is a 
 “ recording angel ” in the mind’s sanctuary—ordinary 
 intelligence is impossible. As the world goes, the tact 
 of memory is paramount to the talent of large reason¬ 
 ing powers. The man of tact is successful in ordinary 
 worldly enterprises, while the man of talent alone will 
 fail; but the latter is victorious in parts and places 
 where the former is defeated and despairing. 
 
 Inasmuch as memory is an essential to the acquisi¬ 
 tion of and progression in knowledge, and inasmuch as 
 bnowledge of things is more valuable and in greatest 
 demand as the world is now constituted, so we observe 
 that all popular “systems of education” are based on 
 the faculty of memory, as though the sum and essen¬ 
 tials of a man’s mind consisted in what his senses can 
 grasp and his memory retain ! 
 
 If man’s mental organization were a casket merely— 
 a vessel for containing ethereal impressions—then there 
 would be matchless wisdom in the plan of education 
 adopted in the public and ether schools of the dav. 
 
children's PROGRESSIVE LYCEUM. 289 
 
 The possibilities of growth in spirit, independent of 
 memory, are now universally discarded. Hence, the 
 popular institutions of learning are, for the most part, 
 under the control of mechanically-minded men—men 
 who plod and plod like dray-horses through a muddy 
 road, in the vain endeavor to “ educate ” the young 
 under their charge in the evil and crooked ways of 
 memory. 
 
 We, of the Ilarmonial Philosophy, start upon a 
 wholly different plan. While we admit the value of 
 a “ practical education ” in the facts and uses of 
 things, and although we perceive and avail ourselves 
 of the ‘‘'benefits” of knowledge to be derived from 
 the study of books and of external Nature, yet we start 
 with a great, deep, infinite conviction, congenial to 
 whatever is deathless in the human soul, that it is our 
 duty as much as it is our glorious privilege, to “ know 
 the heart of things,” to unfold in that Wisdom which 
 can discern 
 
 “-The promise of to-morrow, 
 
 And feel the wondrous beauty of to-day;” 
 
 which corn prehen deth the lengthening sweep of im¬ 
 mutable principles in the universe of matter and mind; 
 and which, seeing beyond the material night of imma¬ 
 terial shadows, and beyond the enveloping clouds of a 
 seemingly engulphing fate, calmly planteth its feet 
 upon the life-laws of the Divine Intelligence, anti 
 steadily advanceth through “ ways of pleasantness,” 
 and walketh harmoniously in “ paths of peace.” 
 
 Memory, at best, holds but the reflections of shadows. 
 The spirit, which is the great immortal Man, is corn- 
 13 
 
290 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 pounded of the life-essences of the perfect Soul, which, 
 in common language, is called “ God.” 
 
 All true education, therefore, is unfoldment. The 
 inner life unrolls, flower-like, beneath the sun of intel¬ 
 lect. Instinctively, we begin with the mind of the 
 young, begin with the physical senses, as the natural 
 method of reaching and developing the inner life. 
 Henceforth the method is deductive (i. e ., intuitive and 
 feminine) from the heart, outwardly. Both methods 
 are finally harmonized, and thus the mind of youth is 
 balanced—first, by the acquisition of knowledge in¬ 
 ductively from without inwardly, which depends on 
 memory for its permanency and value; and secondly, 
 by the development of wisdom deductively from within, 
 in accordance with the life-laws of the Divine Intelli¬ 
 gence. 
 
 The Children’s Progressive Lyceum is such an insti¬ 
 tution. Its methods are, primarily, in the realm of 
 external and physical exercises and attractions. The 
 attractiveness of a thing to a child consists in its physi¬ 
 cal properties and attributes. The sound of music, the 
 color of bodies, the plumage of birds, the taste of fruit 
 and other food, the smell of flowers. It would be folly 
 to attempt to interest either children or adults in un- 
 beautiful things. Dry, indeed, is the path of “ learn¬ 
 ing” to most children. Consequently the world, all 
 civilized society, is filled with persons of little book- 
 knowledge—persons whose early years were spent in 
 activities out of the school-house—with “ education 
 neglected,” simply because the school-house, under the 
 jurisdiction of the mechanical and arbitrary school¬ 
 master, was a place of unnatural confinement to both 
 
children’s PROGRESSIVE LYCEUM. 291 
 
 mind and body, as dreadful to little children as is the 
 temple of error to the angels of God. 
 
 The mind does not more need, does not more impera¬ 
 tively demand, education at first than the body. The 
 body and its senses first call loudest for true education. 
 The baby-heart is wiser than the “ learned ” college 
 professor. It calls unto God in the midst of “the garden.” 
 The eternal Father and Mother, whispering, say to it, 
 “ Behold the singing birds, the streams with their many 
 voices, the trees of sweetest fruit, the flowers of finest 
 fragrance; behold these, my child, and go forth out of 
 the cradle and out of the house—go on the full run 
 away from the steady step of thy father and mother ; 
 scamper from the school master who teaeheth under the 
 tree of evil; run, skip, sing, be as happy as thou art 
 free in thfe fields of nature, which is boundlessly ex¬ 
 panded in the universe without thee.” 
 
 Hearing and heeding this Divine voice, thousands of 
 children “play truant” when sent to the wrongly- 
 constituted school. They will deceive their “doting 
 parents ;” will tell a big story to escape detection ; will 
 play the hypocrite to perfection—all to obey the voice 
 of God, which is stronger in the bone and blood of a 
 child than is the fear of parents or the lash of the 
 whipping professor of learning. Children will, like 
 adults, go without asking to places attractive to them, 
 which may be most in accordance with their physical 
 and sensuous necessities; and it is the climax of philo¬ 
 sophical absurdity, as it is the stupidest exercise of pa¬ 
 rental authority, to set up barriers against the Divine 
 law that impels to such a course. Instead of quarrel¬ 
 ing with your children for playing truant, better recon- 
 
292 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 struct jour systems of education, and begin with the 
 young as nature begins with them—in the realm of the 
 Senses, with their bodies, gradually reaching their affec¬ 
 tions and inmost life. 
 
 Congratulate yourselves, Spiritualists! Open your 
 hearts to utterance of grateful thanks, because the in¬ 
 habitants of the Summer Land have reached forth their 
 strong arms to sustain you in the effort to inaugurate a 
 more just, rational, and attractive school for the cul¬ 
 ture and perfection of the young in your midst. The 
 Lyceum is progressive in every true sense of the word. 
 It begins with the senses and deepens inwardly to the 
 soul. It begins with the perceptions of the head and 
 continues into the intuitions of the heart. It begins 
 with amusement and ends with the unfoldment of 
 wisdom. It gains access to the dweller within the tem¬ 
 ple by kindly and beautiful offices performed in love at 
 the outmost vestibule of personal child-life. Badges 
 with significant colors, corresponding to the color of 
 the station target for each group, will be worn by each 
 child. (All flowers, all birds, all precious stones, every 
 thing, have colors or badges significant of their places 
 and purposes in nature.) 
 
 The Lyceum children will learn to sing, before they 
 think, the ideas of progress. The plan is so truly 
 simple that “he who runs may read,” and without 
 constraint, all may acquire habits of order , the art of 
 correct thinking, the freedom of truth, and make pro¬ 
 gress in whatsoever by Christianity and by good people 
 generally is deemed wise, good, and effective unto sal¬ 
 vation from error and other sources of misery to man¬ 
 kind. 
 
HEINRICH ZSCUOKKE. 
 
 293 
 
 105 . 
 
 REMARKABLE POWERS OF HEINRICH ZSCHOKKE. 
 
 Cleveland, 0., January 20, I860. 
 
 According to a writer in the London (Eng.) Spiritual 
 Magazine , Heinrich Zschokke was a “ self-made man ” 
 —poet, novelist, schoolmaster, historian, statesman, phi¬ 
 losopher, and public instructor. Adventurous, of rest¬ 
 less activity, much given to thoughtful speculation, 
 haunted for long years by the phantom of doubt, and 
 tormented with the problems of existence, but attaining 
 in the end to a serene rational Christian faith, his 
 mental struggles and diversified outward and inward 
 experiences peculiarly qualified him for the vocation to 
 which lie specially applied himself in his later years— 
 that of a popular religious guide and teacher through 
 the press. Toward the close of life, on looking back, 
 he felt like Stilling, that the wondrous web of his past 
 life had been not the work of his hand, “but of a 
 mightier, an invisible.” That he had been “borne along 
 the torrent of events wherein (he says) I had no power 
 but over my own will, hurled without any co-operation 
 on my part into the wide fields of action, I was com¬ 
 pelled to find within myself a strength of which I had 
 not been conscious.” He was instinctively a spiritual¬ 
 ist from his youth up, was well acquainted with the 
 
294 
 
 MKMOKAJSTDA. 
 
 phenomena of rhabdomancy, which, he says, “presented 
 me with a new phase of nature,” and which was, more¬ 
 over, of considerable use to him in his mining opera¬ 
 tions. He believed in spiritual impressions and pre¬ 
 sentiments from personal experience, especially as con¬ 
 veyed in dreams; but his most remarkable faculty was 
 what he describes as “ a singular kind of prophetic gift, 
 which I called my inward sight, but which has ever 
 been enigmatical to me.” The following is his detailed 
 account of it, which he gives, as “ it may he an addition 
 to our stock of soul experiences — 
 
 It is well known that the judgment we not seldom 
 form at the first glance of persons hitherto unknown, is 
 more correct than that which is the result of longer 
 acquaintance. The first impression that through some 
 instinct of the soul attracts or repels us with strangers, 
 is afterward weakened or destroyed by custom, or by 
 different appearances. We speak in such cases of sym¬ 
 pathies or antipathies, and perceive these effects fre¬ 
 quently among children to whom experience in human 
 character is wholly wanting. Others are incredulous 
 on this point, and have recourse rather to the art of 
 physiognomy. How for my own case. It has happened 
 to me sometimes, on my first meeting with strangers, as I 
 listened silently to their discourse, that their former life, 
 with many trifling circumstances therewith connected, 
 or frequently some particular scene in that life, has 
 passed quite involuntarily, and, as it were, dreamlike, 
 yet perfectly distinct, before me. During this time I 
 usually feel so entirely absorbed in the contemplation 
 of the stranger life, that at last I no longer see clearly 
 the face of the unknown wherein I undesignedly read, 
 
HEINRICH ZSCHOKKE. 205 
 
 nor distinctly hear the voice of the speakers, which be¬ 
 fore served in some measure as a commentary to the 
 text of their features. For a long time I held such 
 visions as delusions of the fancy, and the more so as 
 they showed me even the dress and motions of the act¬ 
 ors, rooms, furniture, and other accessories. By way of 
 jest, I once in a familiar family circle at Kircliberg, 
 related the secret history of a seamstress who had just 
 left the room and the house. I had never seen her be¬ 
 fore in my life ; people were astonished, and laughed, 
 but were not to be persuaded that I did not previously 
 know the relations of which I spoke, for what I had 
 uttered was the literal truth ; I on my part was no less 
 astonished that my dream-pictures were confirmed by 
 the reality. I became more attentive to the subject, 
 and when propriety admitted it, I would relate to those 
 whose life thus passed before me the subject of my 
 vision, that I might thereby obtain confirmation or refu¬ 
 tation of it. It was invariably ratified, not without 
 consternation on their part. I myself had less confi¬ 
 dence than any one in this mental jugglery. So often 
 as I revealed my visionary gifts to any new person 
 I regularly expected to hear the answer—“ It was 
 not so.” I felt a secret shudder when my auditors 
 replied that it was true, or when their astonishment 
 betrayed my accuracy before they spoke. Instead of 
 many I will mention one example, which pre-eminently 
 astounded me. One fair day, in the city of Waldshut, 
 I entered an inn (the Vine), in company with two young 
 student-foresters ; we were tired with rambling through 
 the woods. We supped with a numerous society at the 
 table-(Vhbte , where the guests were making very merry 
 
296 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 with the peculiarities and eccentricities of the Swiss, 
 with Mesmer’s magnetism, Lavater’s physiognomy, &c., 
 &c. One of my companions, whose national pride was 
 wounded by their mockery, begged me to make some 
 reply, particularly to a handsome young man who sat 
 opposite, and who had allowed himself extraordinary 
 license. This man’s former life was at that moment 
 presented to my mind. I turned to him and asked 
 whether he would answer me candidly if I related to 
 him some of the most secret passages of his life, I know¬ 
 ing as little of him personally as he did of me. That 
 would be going a little further, I thought, than Lavater 
 did with his physiognomy. He promised, if I were cor¬ 
 rect in my information, to admit it frankly. I then 
 related what my vision had shown me, and the whole 
 company were made acquainted with the private history 
 of the young merchant; his school years, his youthful 
 errors, and lastly with a fault committed in reference to 
 the strong box of his principal. I described to him the 
 uninhabited room with whitened walls, where, to the 
 right of the brown door, on a table, stood a black 
 money-box, &c., &c. A dead silence prevailed during 
 the whole narration, which I alone occasionally inter¬ 
 rupted by inquiring whether I spoke the truth. The 
 startled young man confirmed every particular, and 
 even what I scarcely expected, the last mentioned. 
 Touched by his candor, I shook hands with him over 
 the table and said no more. He asked my name, which 
 I gave him, and we remained together talking till past 
 midnight. He is probably still living. I can well ex¬ 
 plain to myself how a person of lively imagination may 
 form, as in a romance, a correct picture of the actions 
 
HEINRICH Z8C1I0KKE, 
 
 297 
 
 and passions of another person, of a certain character, 
 under certain circumstances. But whence came those 
 trifling accessories which in nowise concerned me, an A in 
 relation to people for the most part indifferent to me, 
 with whom I neither had, nor desired to have, any con¬ 
 nection ? Or, was the whole matter a constantly recur¬ 
 ring accident ? Or, had my auditor, perhaps, when I 
 related the particulars of his former life, very different 
 views to give of the whole, although in his first surprise, 
 and misled by some resemblances, he had mistaken them 
 for the same? And yet, impelled by this very doubt, I 
 had several times given myself trouble to speak of the 
 most insignificant things which my waking dream had 
 revealed to me. I shall not say another word on this 
 singular gift of vision, of which I can not say it was 
 ever of the slightest service; it manifested itself rarely, 
 quite independently of my will, and several times in 
 reference to persons whom I cared little to look through. 
 Neither am I the only person in possession of this 
 power. On an excursion I once made with two of my 
 sons, I met with an old Tyrolese, who carried oranges 
 and lemons about the country, in a house of public en¬ 
 tertainment in Lower Hanenstein, one of the passes of 
 the Jura. He fixed his eyes on me for some time, 
 then mingled in the conversation, and said that he knew 
 me, although he knew me not, and went on to relate what 
 I had done and striven to do in former time, to the con¬ 
 sternation of the country people present, and the great 
 admiration of my children, who were diverted to find 
 another person gifted like their father. How the old 
 lemon merchant came by his knowledge he could ex¬ 
 plain neither to me nor to himself; he seemed, never 
 
29S 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 theless, to value himself somewhat upon his mysterious 
 wisdom. 
 
 106 . 
 
 BEAUTIFUL SHOWER OF ICE AT ST. PETERSBURG, 
 RUSSIA. 
 
 Orange, N. J., March 2, 1866. 
 
 A few days since, incidentally to an observation of 
 an object in St. Petersburg, I noticed what might be 
 called “a snow shower,” consisting of brilliant icy 
 crystals, which fell on the people as they walked or 
 rode in sledges through the streets. Every crystal 
 seemed to be formed exactly alike, something like a star, 
 with six points of radiation; but I think there were 
 other varieties of structure. ... It seemed like 
 the breaking up of the winter season; but, perhaps, I 
 
 was mistaken in this.It was certainly a 
 
 new, brilliant, and beautiful exhibition of snow which 
 seemed to be formed just above the city, in the atmo¬ 
 sphere- —the air being full of these ice-crystals, having 
 all the appearance of snow, and yet they were not 
 flakes of snow, but the finest creations of electricity in 
 the air, which clothed itself and fell in starry figures 
 of pure frost upon every thing. 
 
IMPENETRABLE MATTER. 
 
 299 
 
 107. 
 
 SUBSTANCES CONYEYED THROUGH IMPENETRABLE 
 MATTER. 
 
 Orange, N. J., April 20, I860. 
 
 Yesterday a controversy arose between two investi¬ 
 gators, during which one urged his belief that, some¬ 
 times, spirits convey material substances through what 
 is deemed impenetrable matter. The other contended 
 that it was not necessary to believe that material sub¬ 
 stances are conveyed, or even can be conveyed, through 
 what is deemed impenetrable matter in order to con¬ 
 ceive the possibility of the facts. Take, for instance, 
 the reported case of “ the slipper being carried away, 
 the door being closed, and none of the party having 
 moved from their seats, he being directed to look in a 
 leather bag which was lying in another room, where it 
 was found, the bag being locked and the key in his 
 pocket,” &c., &c. Is it not possible to conceive that 
 the door might easily be opened and closed so rapidly 
 and noiselessly that no natural eyes could possibly see 
 it? Is it not possible to conceive that the lock of the 
 carpet bag might be opened and closed again by spirits 
 in a non-miraculous manner? Is it not possible to con¬ 
 ceive that the laws of motion in matter, and the laws 
 
300 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 of natural vision , have very different degrees of limita¬ 
 tion in proportional relations ? 
 
 These reflections, says Doherty, were excited in my 
 mind some years ago, when I was at a seance of the 
 Davenport boys in Buffalo, where I witnessed the oper¬ 
 ation of tying the two boys to their chairs with a very 
 long and strong rope, by Professor Mapes, who observed 
 that he had been a sailor, and would tie the cords in 
 sailor’s knots, which he did in a most complicated 
 manner, occupying what seemed to me some twenty 
 minutes’ time, being tediously long in doing it, and un¬ 
 necessarily multiplying the difficulties of untying the 
 innumerable knots. When the boys had been thus 
 tied to their chairs we all retired to a distant part of 
 the very large room, holding each other by the hand 
 (the father of the boys, myself, Professor Mapes, his 
 daughter, and Mr. A. Brisbane), that none might stir with¬ 
 out the others knowing it. The light was turned down 
 so as to make the room almost entirely dark, and the 
 spirits began to untie the ropes, which was accomplished 
 with a noise something like that of running a cord rapidly 
 from a windlass, and in about two seconds, as nearly as 
 I can guess, the cords were thrown heavily in a mass on 
 the ground, and the light immediately turned on again. 
 This feat seemed to me almost miraculous, but on reflec 
 tion I asked myself, What proportion does the rapidity 
 of material motion of one degree bear to that of another \ 
 What relation does the motion of our planet through 
 space bear to that of a bird flying? Where do the 
 limits of human vision begin and end Avith regard to 
 the motion of material bodies ? Can we not conceive, 
 from our knowledge of the rapid motions of the 
 
MR. W. P. ANDERSON. 
 
 301 
 
 heavenly bodies in space, and the undulations of light, 
 that certain degrees of rapidity are utterly invisible to 
 natural sight ? 
 
 I need hardly mention the school-boy’s peg-top, spin¬ 
 ning “ asleep,” as a familiar example of invisible 
 motion ; and a door might possibly be opened and closed 
 as rapidly as the top spins invisibly before our eyes. I 
 do not say the rope scene was or was not a trick of the 
 Davenport boys, but only that invisible motion is 
 neither miraculous nor incredible. 
 
 The doctor thus concludes :—I do not know what is 
 possible or impossible, but I can easily conceive that the 
 limitations of power in human vision, motion, sensation, 
 &c., may exclude us from the possibility of being con¬ 
 scious of many kinds of physical phenomena which are 
 supposed to be miraculous, while they may be perfectly 
 natural within limits which transcend our normal 
 powers of sensation.* 
 
 JLOH. 
 
 MR. W. P. ANDERSON, THE SPIRIT ARTIST. 
 
 Orange, N. J., May 24, 1866. 
 
 The wonderful pictures and portraits by this truly 
 spiritual man, are drawn upon artists’ paper with lead 
 pencils. It is supposed that they have a much more 
 lifelike expression and effect than might be expected 
 through this simple means. Even the effect of several 
 * Tho reader is referred to the Phxlosoph j of Spiritual Intercourse. 
 
302 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 colors can be produced from a black pencil, by the sin¬ 
 gular combinations of light and shade!—though this is 
 not ordinarily attempted. As his labors are of a very 
 fatiguing character, from the exhaustion of his mag¬ 
 netic strength, but a brief time is spent in continuous 
 occupation with the pencil, not longer, usually, than 
 half an hour, without rest, under favorable circum¬ 
 stances—oftener less. 
 
 Mr. Anderson (see the Spiritual Magazine) is clair¬ 
 voyant, and spirits appear to him, at any time, as sub¬ 
 stantially as those in the flesh, and converse as free is 
 held with them. While using his pencil he is in a 
 nearly trance or unconscious state, and subject to the 
 real artists who are using his organism. The pictures 
 are not in miniature , but of life-size , and represent the 
 persons, who are the subjects, in all the peculiarities of 
 dress, &c., which belonged to them in life, at whatever 
 time distant they may have lived. A very pleasing 
 feature of these portraits is the lavish display of floral 
 embellishment with which the more elaborate and 
 highly flnished ones are adorned. A work which Mr. 
 A. will produce in two or three hours, would occupy 
 artists of the readiest skill many days, and often 
 weeks—by their own admissions—and at the same 
 time it exhibits all the marks of consummate ability in 
 design, in calculation of space, and in perfectness of 
 execution. Portraits are commenced from the lower 
 extremities and wrought upward to completion as often 
 as the reverse; especially is this the case when the 
 figure is made to rest upon some elaborate pedestal. 
 
 In our Orange home hangs a very exquisite specimen 
 of Brother Anderson’s vase and flower-work—a gift 
 
PSYCHOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 
 
 303 
 
 from him and his gentle and inspired companion, who 
 is also fast becoming “ a spirit artist,” and thus more 
 perfectly one with her mate. 
 
 109. 
 
 PSYCHOLOGICAL ARGUMENT FOR IMMORTALITY DEDUCED 
 FROM FACTS. 
 
 Orange, N. J., June 11, 1866. 
 
 A Boston gentleman, once a clergyman in good and 
 regular standing, writing upon the evidences of indi¬ 
 vidual immortality, comes out thus favorably of Spir¬ 
 itualism : There is one argument for the existence of 
 the spirit after the dissolution of the physical body, to 
 some more convincing than any other. I allude to 
 certain psychological phenomena which have impressed 
 many minds, and which are wholly inexplicable on any 
 other ground than the admission of the soul’s immor¬ 
 tality. The kind of evidence which I now adduce 
 may be classed among the mystical, but it can not be 
 among the unreal, for the reality is established in 
 numerous minds beyond all possible doubt. I refer to 
 some appearances which have been made of the de¬ 
 parted. And the evidence which we are now giving 
 will of course strike those minds most powerfully which 
 have realized the same phenomena; nevertheless, I see 
 not how they can fail of carrying a degree of convic¬ 
 tion to all. We are not of an imaginative character — 
 those who know us best will entirely acquit us of any 
 such charge And it is to pure reason, and reason alone. 
 
304 
 
 MEMORANDA.. 
 
 accompanied with palpable fact, that the evidence in 
 question has any importance. The evidence is this: 
 Many persons may be found, of all varieties of disposi¬ 
 tions, mental charactei’istics, and degrees of culture, 
 who, during the common occupations of life, have sud¬ 
 denly been impressed with the presence of absent 
 friends or relatives. Sometimes the vision has been 
 complete. Friends at sea, or at distant parts, have 
 thus been the cause of a distinct and conscious pres¬ 
 ence to the vision of their friends at home, and after 
 months of time, frequently, the next news of those 
 friends was —that they had departed from this life pre¬ 
 cisely at that time! What could it have been but a 
 spiritual appearance, impossible to be made until the 
 spirit was released from the body ? . These cases are not 
 uncommon. But they are frequently locked as a secret 
 within the heart, and not related but to a familiar 
 friend, and even then with an injunction to secrecy, for 
 fear of ridicule, or the charge of superstition : so 
 tyrannous is this power of popular opinion, and so 
 sensual is the prevailing philosophy of our day. I have, 
 myself, within but a few weeks, received relations of 
 this kind from persons of unquestioned veracity, and 
 far from an imaginary character, who told me of the 
 presence—the visible, entire form of near relatives and 
 friends, and the next news was, that they died at that 
 time. Perhaps as familiar an instance as could be 
 given of the reality of such spiritual appearances, may 
 be found in ‘‘Mrs. Child’s Letters from Flew York.” 
 
 Scottish legends, she says, abound with instances of 
 second sight, oftentimes supported by a formidable 
 array of evidence. But I have met with only one per- 
 
PSYCHOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 
 
 305 
 
 son who was the subject of such a storv. She was a 
 woman of plain, practical sense, very unimaginative, 
 intelligent, extremely well-informed, and as truthful as 
 the sun. I tell the story as she told it to me. One of 
 her relatives was seized with a rapid consumption, lie 
 had for some weeks been perfectly resigned to die; but 
 one morning when she called on him, she found his 
 eyes brilliant, his cheeks flushed with an unnatural 
 bloom, and his mind full of belief that he should re¬ 
 cover health. He talked eagerly of voyages he would 
 take, and of the renovating influence of warmer climes. 
 She listened to him with sadness; for she was well ac¬ 
 quainted with this treacherous disease, and in all these 
 things she saw symptoms of approaching death. She 
 said this to her mother and sisters when she returned 
 home. It was at that home, away from her invalid 
 relative, in the afternoon of the same day, as she sat 
 sewing in the usual family circle, that she accidentally 
 looked up—and gave a sudden start, which immedi¬ 
 ately attracted attention and inquiry. She replied : 
 “ Don’t you see cousin ?” They thought she had been 
 dreaming; but she said, “ I am not certainly asleep. 
 It is strange you do not see him ; he is there !” The 
 next thought was, that she was seized with sudden in¬ 
 sanity ; but she assured them she was never more 
 rational in her life—that she could not account for the 
 circumstance any more than they could; but her cousin 
 was certainly there, and looking at her with a very 
 pleasant countenance. Her mother tried to turn it off 
 as a delusion; but, nevertheless, she was so much im¬ 
 pressed by it, that she looked at her watch, and imme¬ 
 diately sent to inquire how the invalid did. The 
 
306 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 messenger returned with the news that he was dead, 
 and had died at that moment! 
 
 My friend told me (continues the narrator) that at 
 first she only saw the bust; hut gradually the whole 
 form became visible, as if some imperceptible cloud or 
 veil had slowly rolled away. The invisible veil again 
 rose, and then that vanished. She said the vision did 
 not terrify her at the time; it simply perplexed her, as 
 a thing incomprehensible. Why she saw it, she could 
 explain no better than why her mother and sisters did 
 not see it. She simply told it to me just as it appeared 
 to her, as distinct and real as any other individual in 
 the room. 
 
 ISTow, there is one thing in connection with this phe¬ 
 nomena which is inexplicable on any other ground 
 than the admission of the spirit’s immortality. The 
 whole of it is striking and convincing—to any thing 
 but an inveterate sensual philosophy. But there is 
 one thing that deserves particular attention. If this 
 appearance, or these appearances, for they are many, 
 took place any time before the death of the person, or 
 after it, then it might be said that the vision was only 
 imaginary—the effect of a nervous or impressible mind, 
 by mere accident, by a momentary, intense reflection 
 on the absent one. But why should these appearances 
 so frequently happen at the very time of the death ? 
 Is not this an argument for the disenthrallment of the 
 spiritual body, which, on its release from the flesh, then 
 only had the power to make its appearance in this 
 manner? 
 
BASIS OF THE CHILDREN S LYCEUM. 
 
 307 
 
 no. 
 
 HAJRMONIAL BASIS OF THE CHILDREN’S LYCEUM. 
 
 Orange, N. J., June 12, 1866. 
 
 I have just mailed a letter to a ver y dear friend, how 
 traveling and lecturing, who wants further information 
 concerning the “ idea” and the “ plan ” of the Lyceum. 
 
 . . . . Of course the Manual contains the sub 
 
 stance, and much of the detail, of what I have thus far 
 received for the world on this celestial institution. . . 
 
 .The Lyceum is based in the fact 
 
 that ordinarily children are indoctrinated with false 
 theology; that in after years, when such children be¬ 
 come men and women, this false theology clings to 
 them and manifests itself in the form of bigotry, un¬ 
 charitableness, assumed righteousness, and unprogress¬ 
 ive conservatism. Furthermore, that the popular mode 
 of religious teaching for the young is unattractive, is 
 chilling and unnatural; therefore injurious to confiding 
 and impressible natures. It is believed that the young 
 should be taught by pleasing and natural methods to 
 love the Beautiful and the Useful, the Just and the 
 Wise. By the Lyceum it is proposed to cultivate and 
 harmonize the physical , by teaching and obeying the 
 conditions of life and health; by vocal exercises and 
 strengthening motions under the influence of instru- 
 
308 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 mental music ; by singing appropriate songs, marches, 
 and by the practice of those physical movements known 
 as light gymnastics. Next, by the cultivation of the 
 intellectual, by means of legitimate signs and the prime 
 symbols of natural things, to teach attractively reading, 
 writing, geography, natural history, arithmetic, gram¬ 
 mar, &c. Next, to cultivate the moral by the study 
 of the mind, its structure, laws, powers, functions, by 
 interesting mind in mind, inducing the child’s spirit to 
 look into itself,through apt hints and suggestions; and 
 by encouraging young minds to think accurately of 
 forms, qualities, uses, relations, and adaptations. And 
 iinally, to cultivate and harmonize the spiritual by ad¬ 
 dressing the intuitions and mental powers, beginning 
 with the simplest truths, and thence advancing toward 
 fixed and central principles—the Divine Existence, the 
 works and Ways of Father God and Mother Nature. 
 
 .Let all remember that true Education is 
 
 a life-long, yea an eternal, process ; therefore, that it is 
 not reasonable to expect that the germs of purity, good¬ 
 ness, and greatness, inherent in the child-spirit, can be 
 rapidly made to unfold. 
 
 m. 
 
 THEODORE PARKER DEFINES THE TEACHINGS OF 
 SPIRITUALISM. 
 
 Orange. N. J., July 9, 1866. 
 
 Most appropriately to-day—the earth and the sky 
 so golden and glorious in their Summer beauty—Mr. 
 
TEACHINGS OF SPIRITUALISM. 
 
 309 
 
 Parker arrives from the Summer Land, and imparts 
 great, strong, stirring “ thoughts ” on the question of 
 Spirit and Matter. His definitions are still the same as 
 reported and embodied in the following paragraph. Of 
 tru@ Spiritualism he says :— 
 
 “It teaches that there is a natural supply for spiritual as well 
 as for corporeal wants; that there is a connection between God 
 and the soul, as between light and the eye, sound and the ear, 
 beauty and the imagination; that as we follow an instinctive 
 tendency, obey the body’s laws, get a natural supply for its wants, 
 attain health and strength, the body’s welfare; as we keep the 
 law of the mind, and get a supply for its wants, attain wisdom 
 and skill, the mind’s welfare—so if, following another instinctive 
 tendency, we keep the law of the moral and religious natures, we 
 get a supply for their wants, moral and religious truth, obtain 
 peace of conscience and rest for the soul, the highest moral and 
 religious welfare. It teaches that the World is not nearer to our 
 bodies than God to the soul; ‘ for in him we live and move and 
 have our being.’ As we have bodily senses to lay hold on 
 Matter and supply bodily wants, through which we obtain, natu¬ 
 rally, all needed material things ; so we have spiritual faculties to 
 lay hold on God, and supply spiritual wants; through them we 
 obtain all needed spiritual things. As we observe the conditions 
 of the Body, we have Nature on our side; as we observe the Law 
 of the Soul, we have God on our side. He imparts truth to all 
 men who observe these conditions ; we have direct access to Him 
 through Reason, Conscience, and the Religious Sentiment, just as 
 we have direct access to Nature through the eye, the ear, or the 
 hand. Through these channels, and by means of a law, certain, 
 regular, and universal as gravitation, God inspires men, makes 
 revelation of truth, for is not truth as much a phenomenon of 
 God as motion of Matter? Therefore, if God be omnipresent and 
 omniactive, this inspiration is no miracle, but a regular mode of 
 God’s action on conscious Spirit, as gravitation on unconscious 
 Matter. It is not a rare condescension of God, but a universal 
 uplifting of Man. To obtain a knowledge of duty a man is not 
 
310 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 sent away, outside of himself, to ancient documents, fcr the only 
 rule of faith and practice; the Word is very nigh him, even in 
 his heart, and by this word he is to try all documents whatever. 
 Inspiration, like God’s omnipresence, is not limited to the few 
 writers claimed by the Jews, Christians, or Mohammedans, but is 
 co-extensive with the race. As God fills all Space, so all Spirit; 
 as he influences and constrains unconscious and necessitated 
 Matter, so he inspires and helps free and conscious Man.” 
 
 113. 
 
 RALPH WALDO EMERSON AND FREDERICK DOUGLASS. 
 
 Boston, December 19, 1866. 
 
 One of the standard American journals, the Atlantic 
 Monthly , has, in two successive numbers, placed the 
 above names in juxtaposition bj publishing an article 
 from the pen of each. In like manner, Boston has 
 placed these two men side by side during the present 
 season, in the course of Parker Fraternity Lectures. 
 Thus, probably without designing it, editors and lecture 
 committees have joined in giving a most striking illus¬ 
 tration of the opportunities and tendencies of American 
 life. 
 
 Emerson w r as born amid the conditions of Culture. 
 From earliest youth his mind was elected to thought. 
 A graduate from college while yet under age, he had a 
 distant background of educated ancestry ; being, when 
 ordained by the Unitarian Church, the eighth, in or¬ 
 derly succession, of a consecutive line of ministers. 
 Too great for the pulpit, he has become the Plato of 
 
EMERSON AND DOUGLAS3. 
 
 311 
 
 modern Athens, and the representative of culture 
 throughout the world of letters. 
 
 On the other hand, Frederick Douglass was born a 
 Southern slave! It is only necessary to state this terrible 
 fact, to show that he was, from the first, environed by 
 the worst conditions of ignorance. No grammar school, 
 no college, opened its doors for him — the son of a slave 
 mother, and the chattel of a relentless master. He 
 secretly taught himself to read and write, and, when 
 the hour came, fled from his bonds to the freedom and 
 intelligence of the North. Just then of age, he had 
 graduated, not from a seminary of learning, but from 
 the charnel-house of ignorance and oppression. 
 
 And this Man stood in Music Hall last evening, be¬ 
 fore an immense audience, to teach the American peo¬ 
 ple the principles of statesmanship, to show them the 
 deep and solid foundations of a true government, by 
 first revealing the “ Sources of danger to the Republic.’’ 
 Calm, grand, impressive was his utterance, each sentence 
 freighted with convincing truth, till at last argument 
 was merged into appeal, and, flinging himself with pas 
 sionate earnestness into the cause of his oppressed race, 
 the spirit of outraged justice poured forth through his 
 soul in a flood of eloquence, which streamed like living 
 Are into every heart. 
 
 Just one week ago Emerson stood on the same plat¬ 
 form, and to the same vast throng, which hung breath¬ 
 less upon his words, announced the eternal verities, 
 under the guise of “ The Man of the World.” Golden 
 were the thoughts which flowed from the fountain of 
 his wisdom. Welcome to the inmost spirit were the 
 immortal truths which sparkled upon the background 
 
312 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 of his discourse, like shining stars on the vaulted sky. 
 Exhilarating as a breath of divine air, were the electric 
 sentences which roused every soul to heroic self-reliance 
 and conscious moral power. 
 
 Thus the rostrum has become the common ground 
 where meet the utmost extremes of American society, 
 giving us infinite hope that, by means of true American 
 Democracy, the dream of Plato may be more than 
 realized in a harmonial republic and the brotherhood 
 of nations. 
 
 113. 
 
 SPIRITUALISTIC DOCTRINES CONCERNING PRAYER AND 
 WORSHIP. 
 
 Orange, N. J., January , 29, 1867. 
 
 Not long since a clergyman, writing candidly for in¬ 
 formation, asked:— 
 
 “ But when we come to Spiritualism, do you not think 
 that that prominence is not assigned to the religious 
 faculties that ought to be ? Are not prayer and divine 
 worship indispensable to the public welfare ? . . . . 
 
 Man, the world over, is a worshipful being. It is as 
 natural to pray as to sing, to cry, or to laugh. . . . 
 
 But Spiritualism should have its religious, as well as its 
 purely demonstrative side.” 
 
 Now, to a close and critical thinker (says a respondent), 
 this passage sounds strange, coming, as it does, from the 
 pen of a Christian clergyman. In front of this senti¬ 
 ment, thus candidly and genially expressed, place the 
 following words, said to have been uttered by Jesus, 
 
PRAYER AND WORSHIP. 
 
 313 
 
 the assumed teacher of all Christian clergymen : “ And 
 when thou prajest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites 
 are, for they pray standing in the synagogues and in the 
 corners of the streets that they may be seen of men. 
 Verily I say unto you, they have their reward. 
 But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and 
 when thou hast shut thy door , pray to thy Father which 
 is in secret, and thy Father which seeth in secret, shall 
 reward thee openly.” Matthew vi. 5, 6. 
 
 And when to this clear and express command, we 
 add the fact, that we have no account of an example 
 of public prayer by Jesus, before his assemblies, as 
 a mode of worship, who can resist the conviction 
 that public prayer as a stated mode of public worship, 
 is a direct violation of the teachings and practice 
 of Jesus? If Jesus was a Christian (which he was not 
 evidently in the modem acceptance of the term), then 
 public prayer is anA'-Christian. The clergy of all 
 Christendom are living in continued violation of this 
 emphatic teaching and practice of the celebrated JSTazar- 
 ene. How can a clergyman, educated by the New Tes¬ 
 tament, engage in, or recommend, public prayer, 
 unless, indeed, he has become the creature of a habit, 
 practiced by the church without any good authority 
 therefor. 
 
 Will it be said that Jesus gave a special form of 
 prayer? I answer that this prayer immediately suc¬ 
 ceeded the command to pray only in secret. It was 
 meant to be heard by no second ear. Matthew, Mark, 
 and Luke, represent Jesus as going away from his dis¬ 
 ciples, to pray three several times—just before the 
 betrayal of Judas. lie would not pray in the imme- 
 14 
 
MEMORANDA. 
 
 314 
 
 diate presence of his disciples—his dearest friends, 
 even. When he returns to them, he finds then fast 
 
 asleep.There is, therefore, an 
 
 inner and a spiritual side to worship. 
 
 There are moments when, after long and severe toil 
 in the work of elevating ourselves and others; when we 
 have fought with beasts, not at “ Ephesus ” only, but in 
 our own blood and society ; when we have opposed the 
 unjust law ; when we have labored to save the fallen, to 
 protect the weak, to feed the hungry, and to emanci¬ 
 pate woman, and negroes, and labor; then it is that 
 there comes over us the deepening, holy presence of the 
 Divine Spirit; our very souls yearn for more light, love, 
 power, and beauty. But mark the fact and the law —• 
 such moments do not come to the selfish, self-seeking, 
 hard-hearted, and lazy man, who works for nobody but 
 himself; but only to the self-forgetful toiler for his race. 
 And the soul at such hours lifts itself up toward the 
 seat and center of Divine Sovereignty; its towering 
 aspirations that put out its Spiritual tentaculse into the 
 ocean of celestial forces, are but the correlative and 
 equivalent of its duty done, the force of heart-love and 
 hand-work for men transformed into power, of soul into 
 consciousness of our Spiritual Unity with God and the 
 Kepublic of Ideas. 
 
 The power to rise up into the Divine beatitudes 
 arises from the just and generous performances of deeds 
 of kindness, of mercy, of justice, of love. It is thus we 
 get re-enforced from higher levels, for other duties 
 which shall come at the right moment. Yet these 
 need more devotion. But not devotion in the shape of 
 ecclesiastical performances. The husband needs more 
 
VOICES AND LESSONS. 
 
 315 
 
 devotion to his wife, who lias forsaken all for him; 
 and the wife needs more devotion to her husband ; and 
 both need more devotion to their children’s culture and 
 success as future men and women; and we all need 
 more devotion to justice, liberty, and love. The 
 amount of wind expended in oral prayer, if it could fill 
 the sails of our souls’ commerce, would waft us into the 
 harbor of eternal peace and plenty ; but it flows from 
 too low levels to accomplish this celestial voyage. To 
 be sure, let us love devotion ; but let it be a devotion 
 which will free the Republic, emancipate woman, and 
 open to her a career; which will educate all the children 
 of the land ; which will exalt labor and degrade idle¬ 
 ness ; which will soften the heart; spiritualize the af¬ 
 fections ; purify marriage and society ; develop science, 
 art, philosophy, religion, until the dear old earth shall 
 blaze and brighten under the beams of an actual 
 millennium. 
 
 114. 
 
 VOICES AND LESSONS OF NATURE. 
 
 Orange, July 29, 1867. 
 
 Taking up the Republic this morning, the following 
 inspiration from Miss Wheelock’s Oration before the 
 First Spiritual Society of Rock Island, Ill., was read 
 with pleasure :— 
 
 ‘‘Let us love truth for its own dear sake—Truth, royal and 
 regal as the stars whose constellated glories robe the night in 
 silver splendor, and clothe all hours in solemn awe. Truth, reg¬ 
 nant as morning, opens each glorious day with salutations of 
 
3L6 
 
 MEMOltANDA. 
 
 praise and thankfulness. She walks the fields with stately grace, 
 holding high converse with the stars. She treads the valley 
 glooms, and meadow floors, in sweet communion with streams, and 
 all of Nature’s voiceless messengers cha'nting of God’s universal 
 love. She sings her songs in sunlight, or in shadow; at morn¬ 
 ing, at noontide, or at evening hour; in valleys or on hill-tops. 
 Everywhere Nature’s solemn presence inspires to holy utterance— 
 whether silent or voiceful. She prints her lessons on every living 
 thing; upon solid rocks and mottled marble; upon every imaginable 
 form, animate or inanimate. Their glory beams from stars, orbs, 
 and central suns; reflects light into the dark corners of this dark 
 earth; into ocean’s treasure-spread floor; upon every wavelet of 
 the sea, and into the soul of all life. She robes earth in everchang- 
 ing, yet unchanging beauty; she thrills the sky with the stern 
 grandeur of her purpose, and suspended words re-echo her com¬ 
 mands. The grand, crowned mountains, uplift her to their bold 
 brave brows, and her eloquence thrills to joy the circling rounds 
 above. Night is vocal with her presence ; da} r , commanding with 
 her majestic soul. Nowhere is there contradiction ; nowhere in¬ 
 harmony in Nature’s grand oratorio. No false transcript of thy life, 
 O Truth! in the vast universe of Nature. Science demonstrates thee 
 peerless in thy integrity. Facts, weighty and significant, imprint 
 their evidence upon the walls of earth and time. Philosophy, 
 with higher sense, rolls out subjective truths; these too, are 
 epics of the Great Eternal, mingled with mysteries of the celestial 
 spheres. Law, potential with infinite purpose, and positive in its 
 authority, asserts the sovereignty of truth throughout the illim¬ 
 itable bounds of being. 0, man! teach thy soul to love truth 
 as Nature loves it; as Spirit loves it; as God loves it; for only 
 through such love can we enter the inner court of the spiritual 
 heavens; only through such love can we establish holiest spirit¬ 
 ual communion, like conversings of white-robed angels, on the 
 beautiful shores of the Morning Land; only through such love 
 for truth and equal faithfulness thereto, can we ever attain to 
 spiritual clearness of vision and perfection of eternal principles.” 
 
 These inspired orations by young women and the 
 beautiful mothers of America, indicate the dawning of 
 
THE DEATH-BED. 
 
 317 
 
 better times oil earth. Men, hitherto, have monopo¬ 
 lized the pulpit and the places of learning, while 
 women, sitting demurely and submissively in the pews, 
 have had their “ rights ” presented in all sorts of 
 shapes, and illustrated in all sorts of ways ; presented in 
 prose and jingled in verse; joked about and preached 
 about; treated lightly and solemnly, sagaciously and 
 nonsensically. But, behold ! “ The old heavens and 
 
 the earth’’ have passed away, and the “end” of one 
 radical error has come. Look all around you : Behold, 
 how in the public places, the “Lords of Creation” sit 
 with dignity and gratitude, listening to the inspired 
 Queens of Nature! 
 
 115. 
 
 DEATH-BED OF A SPIRITUALIST. 
 
 Orange, N. J., November 12, 1867. 
 
 Mankind have been presented, through orthodox 
 publications, with unnumbered instances of the “ Death¬ 
 bed of a Christian,” and with not a few examples of 
 the tragical exit of unbelievers from the stage of life. 
 The people have been warned by earnest and anxious 
 church members that Spiritualism “ might do to live 
 by, but not to die by;” but, metliinks, there is no more 
 beautiful instance on record of the departure of a spirit 
 from earth than the following touching description of 
 this “ quiet and holy passover.” 
 
 THE TRANSFIGURATION. 
 
 Great sorrow has again overtaken us, resulting in 
 
318 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 great gain to one of my mother’s children. A dear 
 sister, Mrs. D., whom you and M. met at our house 
 some years ago, arrived with her two children from 
 South America about three months since. She had 
 been some months in the tropics, and came home with 
 the fever burning in her veins. Week after week she 
 suffered, until Christmas day, when the weary spirit 
 went home with the waiting angels. I have seen many 
 die, happily, calmly, with faith and hope, willing and 
 resigned; but never before saw I such majesty and 
 glory and strength as sustained my dear sister Carrie 
 in her upward flight. She gave full directions for every 
 thing with a cleai*, calm realization of her condition; 
 left a message for her far-off husband still in South 
 America; instructed her children, told them she would 
 come to them and care for them, and spoke fully to 
 each one present. 
 
 Then she asked us, as Spiritualists, to suggest any 
 thing that might be instructive to her. Remembering 
 some things you have written, I told her not to linger 
 here when free, but go home with her spirit friends 
 and rest; then to come, and we would try to be ready 
 to receive her, striving, meanwhile, not to attract her. 
 After conversation at length upon this subject, she 
 asked us to sing “ Summer Land and broken voices 
 gave forth the sweet song, with chorus accompaniment 
 by the guitar. The sweet little girl, so soon to be 
 motherless, sang, like an angel, the death song. Then the 
 pale sufferer desired to sleep. We adjusted a soft hair 
 pillow beneath her head, put a warm blanket next her, 
 left a window open near, and then sat down to watch : 
 no groans, no sobbings were there ; all felt that the 
 
THE POET TASSO. 
 
 319 
 
 passing spirit must be sustained, and not disturbed by 
 our grief. A short time she slept peacefully, then a 
 pause in the breathing, another breath—she was gone! 
 And, now, do we find “ashes on the hearth,’ and a 
 “smell of varnish in the house?” Oh, no! We are 
 lifted up. The angels have been with us, and they will 
 come often. They will linger over the little home that 
 shelters an angel’s children. I can say but little in 
 a letter, but could not omit a word to tell you how joy¬ 
 ful is our mourning, how blessed is our grief, how glo¬ 
 rious the light and knowledge of our religion in an hour 
 like this. 
 
 116 . 
 
 THE POET TASSO AND HIS SPIRIT FRIEND. 
 
 Philadelphia, November 18, 18G7. 
 
 Mr. Seymour Kirkup, of Florence, Italy, in a transla¬ 
 tion for the London Magazine , in 1862, says: Torquato 
 Tasso published nothing respecting his spiritual experi¬ 
 ences, and mentioned them to but few of his friends. 
 Among the nearest and most trustworthy of his 
 friends, and second to none, was Giambatista Manso, so 
 acknowledged by Tasso himself in his verses, in his let¬ 
 ters, his dialogue, and in the Jerusalem. In a letter by 
 Manso, when Tasso was staying with him at Bisaccio, 
 written to a common friend, the Principe di Conca, 
 High Admiral of the kingdom of Naples, he gives, after 
 the usual compliments, the following account of Tasso:— 
 “ The Signor Torquato has become a great sportsman, 
 and braves the coldness of the season. In bad weather 
 
320 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 we pass the time in music and singing, and lie is espe¬ 
 cially interested with these improvisatori, and their great 
 facility, in which he says nature has been very sparing 
 to him. Sometimes we dance, which delights him much, 
 with these ladies, but more frequently we sit talking 
 round the tire, and often have fallen on the subject of 
 that spirit, which he says appears to him, and he has so 
 described it to me that I know not what to say, and I 
 doubt sometimes if his illusion (_ frenesia) will not drive 
 me mad. I, who wished to relieve him from what I 
 consider an intirmity, have shown him sometimes with 
 the most severe reasoning, that these visions of his can 
 not be real, but are most likely formed by his imagination, 
 disturbed by vapors of melancholy, which, by causing 
 these vain phantasms, make him see things that are 
 not, and most likely can not be. This spirit of his is 
 not evil, as is proved by a thousand signs, such as its 
 discourse of things religious and devout, and persuading 
 them, and besides naming the most holy names of Jesus 
 and Maria, with reverence for the cross and reliques of 
 the saints, as he himself affirms, and above all, the con¬ 
 solation and comfort which it leaves behind, contrary 
 to the custom of evil spirits. I tell him, on the contrary, 
 that it can not either be an angel, because, although he is 
 a Christian and a virtuous man, and even, for many years 
 past, very spiritual ( spirituale ), nevertheless, these favors 
 of apparitions of angels are not conceded to men of 
 common goodness, but to the perfect and holy ( santi) 
 only, so that it would be presumption to believe that 
 this, his spirit, were an angel, as it would, on the other 
 hand, be an injustice ( ingiuria ) to consider it was a de¬ 
 mon. Wherefore, there not existing any other sort, of 
 
THE POET TASSO. 
 
 32 L 
 
 spirit but angels and demons, and this being neither, it 
 follows that this which appeal’s to him is no real spirit, 
 but rather a deception of the fancy ( fantastica virtu) 
 represented to him as apparent (verisimile), as has hap¬ 
 pened to many others, and especially to those who are 
 afflicted with fixed ideas ( mirarchia , a word not in the 
 Crusca) as he bas been. To which he replied that such 
 w r as not the fact (non vero), was clearly proved from the 
 length of time that he has seen these apparitions, and 
 from the conformity which he has observed in them, 
 which could not continue if the things he saw were not 
 in themselves real, but only figured by weak imagina¬ 
 tions of his fancy. Nor could its reasonings be consistent 
 with each other ; as in fantastic visions the powers of 
 the soul do not operate through the intellect, and, con¬ 
 sequently, can not have between themselves any con¬ 
 sistency ( correspondenza ) or order, as is seen to hap¬ 
 pen in the apparitions of fixed thinkers ( miriarchi - 
 <tci ), and in the dreams of fever patients, and the 
 thoughts of drunken men. Likewise he says, that if the 
 things heard and seen by him were fantastic appear¬ 
 ances created by his own imagination, they could not 
 be such as to surpass his own knowledge, because the 
 imagination is caused by the returning ( rivolgimento ) 
 of the same fancies ( fantasmi ), and of the kind of 
 things already learned, which are retained in the mem¬ 
 ory, but that in the long and continual reasonings held 
 with that spirit, he has heard things that he had never 
 before heard, nor read, nor known, and that other men 
 had never known; from which he concludes that these 
 visions of his can not be foolish imaginations of the 
 fancy, but rather true and real apparitions of some 
 
 14 * 
 
322 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 spirit, who, whatever be the cause, allows himself to be 
 visibly seen by him. Which things, contradicted and 
 disputed by me, led us one day to such a point that he 
 said to me, ‘ Since I can not persuade you by reason¬ 
 ing, I will undeceive you by experience, and cause you 
 to see with your own eyes that spirit to whom you will 
 not lend your belief from my words.’ 
 
 “ I accepted the offer, and the following day being 
 together without other company, sitting near the fire, 
 he, turning his eyes towards a window, and keeping 
 them so fixed for a good space of time, so that on my 
 recalling him he answered nothing, at last said, 
 ‘Here, behold, is my spirit-friend who has courteously 
 come to converse with me ; behold him (■ miratelo) and 
 you will see the truth of my words.’ I turned my eyes 
 in that direction immediately, but, however much I 
 strained them, nothing could I see but the rays of the 
 sun, which entered the room through the glasses of the 
 window. And whilst I turned my eyes around dis¬ 
 covering nothing, I heard Torquato engaged in the 
 most sublime reasonings, with whomsoever it was, so 
 that although I neither saw nor heard any other but 
 himself, nevertheless his words, sometimes questioning 
 (proponendo) and sometimes answering, were such as 
 occur between persons in close reasoning on some im¬ 
 portant subject; and from what he spoke my intellect 
 easily comprehended what was said to him in reply, 
 although I did not hear it with my ears; and these 
 rea3ortings were so grand and wonderful for the sub¬ 
 limity they contained, and for a peculiar mode not used 
 in conversation, that I remained under a strange stupor 
 raised within me, and did not dare to interrupt them, 
 
TIIE TOET TASSO. 
 
 323 
 
 nor to ask Torquato any questions respecting the spirit 
 whom he had pointed out to me, and whom I did not see. 
 In this manner we remained for a good length of time, 
 I listening half stupefied and enchanted ( yayhito), al¬ 
 most without perceiving it; and at the end of which the 
 spirit departing, as I understood from Torquato’s words, 
 he, turning to me, said, ‘ All the doubts will now be re¬ 
 moved from your mind.’ And I said to him, ‘ On the 
 contrary, they are increased, for many things I have 
 heard worthy of admiration, but nothing have I seen of 
 what you promised, to make me end my doubts by satis¬ 
 fying my eyes.’ Smiling, he answered, ‘ Much more 
 
 have you seen and heard than perhaps—’. 
 
 and here he stopped (perhaps he would have added, 
 Than, perhaps, you will confess); and I, not wishing 
 to importune him with more questions, we here ended 
 this conversation, from which, as yet, I can comprehend 
 nothing more than that which I said at the beginning, 
 namely, that those visions of his or deliriums ( frenesia) 
 will make me go out of my mind {da cirvello) before I 
 can remove from him his opinion either true or imagi¬ 
 nary.” 
 
 The foregoing letter was published in the lifetime of 
 Manso, and of many other witnesses of Tasso’s adven¬ 
 tures. It is to be found in the 33d vol. of the Opera, 
 Pisa, 1832, in 8vo, p. 172. 
 
324 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 117 . 
 
 BIBLE BELIEVERS ENACTING SCENES OF INDECENCY AND 
 INSANITY. 
 
 Orange, N. J., Jk nuo.ry 25, 1868. 
 
 The entire religious press of the country has charged 
 to the account of the millions of American Spiritualists 
 the insane and nude performances of some three or four 
 persons, residing in Newark, who claim to believe in 
 mediumship and in the influence of spirits. Justice is 
 slow, but sure. In yesterday’s Tribune it is recorded 
 that the grossly indecent scene in Mr. Ewen’s house, in 
 Newark, on New Year’s night, was enacted under 
 somewhat similar circumstances fifteen years ago, in a 
 village near Zurich, Switzerland. An abandoned 
 woman named Ileinecke, living in Diesikon, a hamlet 
 near Zurich, connected herself with a sect which had 
 sprung up in the district, professing principles similar 
 to those of the Latter-Day Saiuts. Some men became 
 attached to this avoid an, and lived with her in open 
 profligate intercourse. Reinecke becoming pregnant, 
 gave out to these men that she would bring forth a son, 
 who should be the Christ, and called upon them to 
 make this known among the sect to which they belonged. 
 They accordingly declared in the assembly of the Saints 
 that the Old Testament prophecies had not been fill- 
 
BIBLE BELIEVERS ENACTING SCENES. 
 
 325 
 
 filled, and that the Virgin who was to bear a Son was 
 the woman Reinecke. Reinecke’s child, however, 
 proved to be a girl. Having hidden the infant, Rei- 
 neeke proclaimed herself the Christ incarnate. 
 
 At the woman’s request some of the men, who had 
 connected themselves with Reinecke’s followers, assem¬ 
 bled one evening in her room, bringing large crops of 
 wooden planks, to which they nailed her hands and 
 feet, the woman promising, meantime, that she would 
 remain three days and nights crucified, suffering neithei 
 death nor pain; and that on the third night, if they 
 would assemble in the room, she would descend to 
 them from the cross, of her own free will. These mad¬ 
 men complied with Reinecke’s directions, and return¬ 
 ing on the third evening found her dead on the cross. 
 Some of the men fled from the country, two were in¬ 
 carcerated for life, and one was guillotined. The child 
 who was to have been the man Christ, is a poor servant 
 in a hamlet near Wallisellen. 
 
 They have a scandal nearly of similar character in 
 Somersetshire, England. A clergyman named Prince 
 had a parish between Bridgewater and Taunton. He 
 was a scholar and good preacher, as far as delivery and 
 composition go. He sometimes inculcated strange 
 dogmas, and his doctrinal enunciations from the pulpit 
 became more bizarre on each succeeding Sunday, until 
 at last the Rev. Mr. Prince announced to his surprised 
 hearers that the Saviour of the world was embodied in 
 his reverend person ; that he was the Prince for them ; 
 and that those who would believe in him should surely 
 go to heaven. A certain Miss L., an accomplished and 
 beautiful young woman, who had attended this bias- 
 
326 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 pkemous divine’s ministrations, was the first convert to 
 the new religion. Miss S. soon found a co-religionist in 
 a rich married woman. With the wealth which these 
 infatuated women placed in Prince’s hands, this pre¬ 
 tender built a large house, witli a chapel in the center, 
 and a conservatory, in extensive grounds—naming his 
 paradise the Agapemone, or abode of Love. Into this 
 abode Prince and his converts retired. The condi¬ 
 tions of entrance to the Agapemone, and of securing 
 salvation were, that the candidate should he well sup¬ 
 plied with the one thing needful to Prince, money, and 
 if they were married men, having their wives, that they 
 should agree to the rules of the house, i. e., to have all 
 things in common. For years the Agapemone flour¬ 
 ished, quite a numerous body of Princeites having taken 
 up their residence in this abode of immorality. Married 
 women quit their husbands to follow Prince, and gave 
 him their property, and a few disreputable clergymen 
 and men of property also joined his society. Prince 
 began his establishment in style. The house was 
 furnished luxuriously, and the richest exotics were in 
 the conservatory. He drove in an elegant equipage, 
 with four horses and outriders, two men running by the 
 carriage with spears, and when he left the Agapemone 
 his converts and domestics bowed before him. The 
 Agapemone is now comparatively deserted ; the four- 
 in-hand has been replaced by a one-horse brougham : 
 money is scarcer, and women become converted less 
 frequently. Last November a woman who had quit 
 her husband to become a Princeite, was claimed by her 
 husband at the Agapemone. Mr. M. found the iron 
 doors closed, and admittance was denied him. He 
 
CHURCH TRIAL. 
 
 327 
 
 went to Bridgewater and asked assistance. An indig¬ 
 nant populace accompanied him to the Agapemone 
 and assailed the doors with crow-bars, forcing an en¬ 
 trance. Mrs. M. was not found, Prince having gone 
 with his convert on a trip to the South. Air. M. ascer¬ 
 tained his wife’s whereabouts about a month after her 
 conversion, at which time her belief in Prince was not 
 to be shaken, and she refused to return to her husband 
 from Prince’s Paradise. 
 
 118 . 
 
 AN EPISCOPALIAN CHURCH TRIAL IN NEW YORK. 
 
 Orange, N. J., February 12, 1868. 
 
 I have just returned from the great city. . . . New 
 York streets are covered with mud, and I fear the ef¬ 
 fect thereof is felt by certain great men in the lucrative 
 calling of teaching the Episcopalian forms of the 
 “ meek and lowly.” A young minister, Mr. Tyng, is 
 being put through. The place chosen for the extra¬ 
 ordinary trial is graced by the presence of many re¬ 
 spectable citizens. It should be known in these parts 
 by the name of “Vatican”—a dingy Vestry Hall be¬ 
 neath the grandiloquent meeting-house of York— 
 wreathed with pictures by the worst masters, on the 
 time-honored and holy art of religious persecution. 
 The princely Pilate of old, with his query, “ What is 
 truth ?” would grow large w r ith satisfaction within 
 these suspicious and proscriptive courts. Coroners' 
 verdicts, records of ecclesiastical sessions, and frightful 
 indications of every evil deed, seem to fill with poison 
 
328 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 the atmosphere in the neighborhood of this hall. 
 There is here, too, somewhat of those 
 
 “-Thick and gloomy shadows damp, 
 
 Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchers, 
 
 Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave.” 
 
 Very grand, however, is the upholstered, castle-like 
 sanctuary overhead; from which heavenward soar 
 millions of literary prayers every year in seventh-day 
 installments —never in violation of the rules of the 
 Prayer-hook! This sacred place (historically speak¬ 
 ing) will swim in golden seas of evangelical glory. 
 Visions of eternal conservatism will fall dream-like 
 upon the thronging multitudes who worship there. . . . 
 Every Sunday the great organ peals its thundering 
 tones along the lofty ceiling, and the dim magical dark¬ 
 ness shed by the holy lights conspire to fill with en¬ 
 thusiasm the devotee’s imagination. Beneath all this 
 grandeur and bewildering beauty history will see a 
 black-painted subterranean “ Chamber of Justice,” in 
 the presence of one-sided judges and prejudiced minis¬ 
 ters. ... I believe this extraordinary performance is 
 dignified with the appellation of “ a church trial.” It 
 is worse than a mixed compound of law, physic, and 
 divinity; the stuff generally taken in desperate cases, 
 when all milder medicines fail and u doctors disagree.” 
 I, however, should christen this proceeding “ aD 
 ecclesiastical-civil suit,” wholly unsuitable and abomin¬ 
 ably illegal; and I think Mr. Tyng will come out 
 
 Note. —In 1859, at the house of Dr. Bartlett, in Aurora, Ill., the 
 author wrote, under the nom de plume of “ Philo Hermes,” a satire in 
 point, entitled, “ An Extraordinary Church Trial.” 
 
OIHTRCH TRIAL. 
 
 329 
 
 stronger and better. . . . They proceed ill due form to 
 set forth, and to call upon him to answer and to refute 
 the grievous sin against their holy religion, and the 
 monstrous infractions and pernicious contempt of the 
 customs and moral well-being of the Episcopal Church! 
 Mr. Tyng! Sir: It is charged that you have officiated 
 at unevangelical places of worship; also declined to 
 ask leave of ministers of the church whether you 
 might perform such Sabbath services: instead whereof, 
 you have taken and do still take every occasion to act 
 independently of the ministry, and to teach our doc¬ 
 trines wrongfully in the Methodist Church ! 
 
 Mr. Parker, according to the reporter, opened for the 
 respondent: Is he charged with any offense against 
 the laws of God? Is he charged with doing aught to 
 injure the ministers who complain against him? The 
 charge is, that, being a minister of the Gospel, he 
 preached the Gospel; that, being a minister of the 
 Church, he preached the Church ; that he carried it, 
 with its Liturgy, to those who, but for him, had it not, 
 or, at least, had it not in the perfection in which he 
 placed it before them. And although he was compelled 
 by the necessities of the occasion not to ask responses 
 from those who had no books with which to make them, 
 and even to omit the Litany, which he would have 
 loved to use before that or any other congregation that 
 might assemble; although compelled to make these 
 omissions from want of the aids to those devotions which 
 the presence of the Book of Common Prayer among 
 our own congregations gives, yet ho did not violate 
 the canon to which the learned gentleman who has just 
 closed (Mr. Logan), alluded. He obeyed it—he used 
 
330 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 the Book of Common Prayer. Take the language of 
 the canon, and analyze it as you will—he performed 
 every thing that was incumbent upon him. Ay, it is 
 for preaching the Gospel, and for carrying the Church 
 with him and preaching it, that he stands now before 
 this court and the country an accused instead of an 
 applauded man. [Applause.] And all the harm that 
 he has done, all the offense he has committed, is that 
 he did not preach the Gospel and the Church with the 
 consent of the Rev. Dr. Stubbs, or of the Rev. Dr. 
 Boggs [laughter]—gentlemen, who know that when I 
 mention their names I do it with no disrespect. They 
 are my friends. I can truly say that I love them 
 personally; but I can likewise say that I think that they 
 have here committed a grand ecclesiastical blunder. 
 I can say that to them as churchmen and as men of the 
 Gospel: Had they, instead of taking this course, aided 
 Mr. Tyng in carrying their Church to that congregation 
 of Methodists—ay, aided him, even if they thought 
 that he might be able to do it every Sunday of his life, 
 what would have been the result? But the charge 
 comes back, “ You did this; you preached God’s Word 
 without first obtaining the consent of Stubbs and Boggs, 
 and thereupon you are an ecclesiastical felon.” The 
 first, last, perpetual duty of a minister is to preach the 
 Gospel. When the Church was established it was not 
 for the simple preservation of a conventional polite¬ 
 ness between individuals; and if the respondent had 
 courteously applied to the reverend ministry of Hew 
 Brunswick for permission to preach there, and had 
 been refused, it would still have been his duty to go 
 there and preach. The Saviour did not stand on cere- 
 
CHURCH TRIAL. 
 
 331 
 
 mony when he went to the Synagogue. The counsel 
 denied that respondent had violated the canon ; held the 
 offense, if it may he so called, has been committed scores 
 of times; and that never before in seventy-five years 
 has a court been called on to try a similar case. There 
 are thousands of cases in which a minister is called upon 
 to officiate where it would be impossible, or even 
 wicked, for him to wait for the permission of the minis¬ 
 ter of the parish. Should one of this reverend court 
 be invited by either of the others to officiate for him 
 next Sunday, could he do it without the express permis¬ 
 sion of a majority? In Hew Brunswick, Drs. Stubbs 
 and Boggs are the only ministers of this Church. One 
 of them wishes one of this court to preach for him. 
 Can he lawfully do it unless the other likewise consent? 
 One of you has a brother, perhaps, residing in New 
 Brunswick. He falls sick, and desires your services. 
 You long to give them ; must you not first run to the 
 house of Messrs. Stubbs and Boggs to get their express 
 permission? [Laughter.] I do not wonder at the 
 laugh, and I am pleased that the chairman agrees with 
 me. When a literal interpretation is given to this 
 canon, it is sheer nonsense. [Renewed laughter.] Or 
 perhaps you have a sister there who belongs to the 
 Methodist denomination, and who is about to be mar¬ 
 ried ; she desires you to join her in holy matrimony. 
 Must you first get the express permission of Stubbs and 
 
 Boggs?.Verily, the ‘‘Church” is an 
 
 institution of the Past—full of Stubbs, Boggs, and ob¬ 
 structions. Amen. 
 
332 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 119 . 
 
 QUESTIONS FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOL ANNIVERSARIES 
 
 Orange, N. J., February 13,1868. 
 
 The trial (Episcopalian) now proceeding in New 
 York, brings to mind some very curious way-side notes 
 recorded in 1859:—Rev. Jerusalem Stubbs was next 
 called by the prosecution. He was much fleshy and 
 much excited. Being sworn and interrogated, he said : 
 ** Am a minister of the High Church of England ; a link 
 in the unbroken chain of calendar Saints; a member of 
 the Divine Order of the Holy Ghost; a believer in the 
 Church’s power to work miracles, such as the forgive¬ 
 ness of sins [never committed], the feeding of thousands 
 with five loaves of bread [providing of course the loaves 
 are large enough to go round], and lastly, that the 
 Church can support the finest livery, and may boast of 
 the most accomplished class of purely genteel saints. 
 Am acquainted with philology; can read Hebrew, 
 Greek, Latin, and French.” [Of course he expects a 
 bishopric.] 
 
 In order to establish the reputation of the worthy 
 Dr. Stubbs, and to add weight to his testimony, the 
 attorney asked him to give some illustrations and refer¬ 
 ences, biblical or otherwise, showing his knowledge to 
 be accurate, classical, and extensive. This permission 
 
QUESTIONS FOR SUNDAY. 
 
 333 
 
 or question fired the reverend gentleman’s breast with 
 new zeal, and he responded : “Perhaps, sir, you have 
 not seen my list of questions, prepared with great dili¬ 
 gence and learning, for a Sunday-School Anniversary?” 
 The court signified that it had not had that great profit 
 and pleasure. “Then,” resumed the witness, “see the 
 Boston Liberator for February 1, 1856, wherein Mr. J. 
 Cushing, of South Hingham, Mass., had the justice to 
 report my scriptural labors as follows:— 
 
 If any one doubts that the Church is engaged in a 
 great work, let him read the following list of questions, 
 prepared and published for the anniversary meeting of 
 the Sunday-School in a neighboring town :— 
 
 1. What was the name of the giant who had twenty- 
 four fingers and toes? 20th Chron. 
 
 2. What person had a nail driven through his head ? 
 4th Judges. 
 
 3. Who wore a garment that had no seam? 19th 
 John. 
 
 4. What distinguished man’s sons had bonnets made 
 for them ? 28th Exodus. 
 
 5. There is only one woman whose age is mentioned 
 
 in the Bible; what was her name ? 23d Genesis. 
 
 6. How many pitchers were broken by an army of 
 men? What was in them? 7th Judges. 
 
 7. Where in the Bible is there an account of a tem¬ 
 perance society? Who belonged to it? 35th Jere¬ 
 miah. 
 
 8. How many persons lapped water with their 
 tongues, like the dogs ? 7th Judges. 
 
 9. Who plowed with twelve yoke of oxen ? 1 
 
 Kings, chap. 19th. 
 
334 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 10. Who was it had thirty sons and thirty daughters ? 
 12th Judges.” 
 
 By the distinguished counsel it was held that the 
 foregoing questions must forever put at rest the insinu¬ 
 ation that the Episcopal Sunday-School is not doing a 
 mighty work for the redemption of the world. The 
 man who plowed with twelve yoke of oxen, our chil¬ 
 dren should keep in everlasting remembrance; and a 
 family of thirty sons and thirty daughters in our day 
 should excite physiological interest, if nothing more. 
 And then, too, the name of the giant who had twenty- 
 four fingers and toes: how momentous such ancient 
 knowledge ! 
 
 In order to induce a laudable degree of religious in¬ 
 quiry in Methodist Sabbath-Schools, I will suggest a 
 few questions, perhaps equally important, which may 
 serve them for an anniversary occasion like the one 
 just alluded to :— 
 
 1. How old was the Shunamite damsel who minis¬ 
 tered to King David’s necessities ? 
 
 2. ITow much oil did Zadok the priest use in anoint¬ 
 ing Solomon, after he rode his father’s mule down to 
 Gihon ? 
 
 3. What was the expense of Elijah’s board per day, 
 when fed by the ravens at the brook Cherith ? 
 
 4. What was the name of the man who drew a bow 
 at a venture, and smote the King of Israel between the 
 joints of the harness? 
 
 5.But, why multiply questions for chil¬ 
 
 dren in orthodox Sunday-Schools. The Bible and the 
 Catechism are replete with suggestions. 
 
 A little moral may be drawn from the following story, 
 
INVESTIGATION. 
 
 335 
 
 which may be useful to Sabbath-School superintendents 
 and teachers:— 
 
 A boy of more natural brightness than some who are 
 better educated, was asked, “ Where do you go to Sun¬ 
 day School, Jimmy ?” 
 
 “ Why, marra, I go to Baptisses, and Methodisses, 
 and the Presbyteriums, but I’ve been trying the ’Pisco- 
 pals for two or three weeks.” 
 
 “ You don’t seem to belong any where, then, Jimmy.” 
 
 “ Why, yes, marra, don’t you see, I belongs to ’em 
 exceptin’ the ’ Piscopals, but I’m going to jine them, 
 too, now.” 
 
 “Well, Jimmy, what’s your idea in going to so 
 many ?” 
 
 “ Why, you see, I gits a little of what’s going on at 
 ’em all, marm. I gits liberies, and hymn-books, and 
 all that; and when they have picnics, I goes to every 
 one of ’em.” 
 
 130. 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF INVESTIGATION. 
 
 Orange, N. J., February 14, 1868. 
 
 This morning's mail brings to me a city magazine of 
 some influence, containing quotations from an old as¬ 
 sault on Spiritualism, some years ago, published in 
 Blackwood. To that very calumnious article I would 
 apply the concluding paragraphs of a rejoinder by the 
 truth-loving William llowitt. In his reply, Mr. Howitt 
 first details positive facts , which convinced him that 
 
336 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 the sprits do cause the real manifestations, and then 
 proceeds:— 
 
 These, sir, I think, will be admitted, “ according to 
 strict scientific method,” to be a complete refutation of 
 the statements of Blackwood & Co.; and in conclusion I 
 will beg to remind these gentlemen of the press, that the 
 very same things which they now assert of Spiritualism 
 were said of Christianity, for above one hundred years 
 after its appearance; ay, far worse things. The Chris¬ 
 tians were held by the Greek and Latin illustrissirni ', not 
 only as the grossest impostors, but as the most vile and 
 degraded of men. The practices attributed to them 
 were too revolting for modern language. Christianity 
 was the superstitio prava of Pliny the Younger; the 
 exitiabilis superstitio of Tacitus; the Christians were 
 the c ‘ homines per fiagitiis invisos ” of that historian. 
 Every classical reader can lay his hand on these state¬ 
 ments. 
 
 These are the calumnies which truth has, in every 
 age, to endure. Take the very highest philosophical 
 authority of Greece—Plato. He makes Socrates, in 
 Eutyphron, say: “ And we, too, when I say any thing 
 in the public assembly concerning divine things, and 
 predict to them what is going to happen, they ridicule 
 me as mad ; and although nothing that I ever have pre¬ 
 dicted has not turned out to be true, yet they envy all 
 such men as we are. However, we ought not to heed 
 them, but pursue our own course.” 
 
 How precisely identical are the truth, and the ene¬ 
 mies of the truth, in every age of the world! Sir, I 
 am a man who all my life have hated humbug, and have, 
 at whatever cost, dared to expose it without hiding my 
 
INVESTIGATION. 
 
 337 
 
 head under the anonymous. In my early years I had 
 ray blow at priestcraft. I am not one of those who 
 think it wise to jeer at what I do not take the trouble 
 to examine. Some years ago I heard some very wonder¬ 
 ful things of gold-finding in Australia. I determined 
 to go and examine how far these fine stories were true. 
 I did not think the way to come at the truth was to shy 
 an article at it from a journal without going near it. I 
 got a real spade, and dug in real earth, and I and my 
 sons found one of the finest gold-fields in Victoria— 
 Nine Mile Creek—in consequence of which my son is 
 at this moment heading a government expedition of 
 discovery in that colony. I got as much gold with my 
 own hands as would have knocked any man down who 
 should have said it was imaginary. Well, I am just 
 as sure of the facts of Spiritualism as I am of those of 
 gold-finding. If I were to go to Lord Campbell and tell 
 him that I knew more about the business of the Court of 
 Chancery than he did, be would laugh at me ; and if 
 Lord Campbell came to me and said he knew more 
 about the phenomena of Spiritualism than I do, after 
 years of examination, I should laugh at him; and we 
 should both laugh on the same good grounds at the 
 other talking of things that he had not thoroughly 
 sifted to a man who had. 
 
 I have sifted these things for five years. I have wit¬ 
 nessed nearly all the varieties of extraordinary things 
 seen in this country, and often in private houses of the 
 highest character where no professional medium was 
 present. The facts of Spiritualism are, therefore, to me, 
 common-places, and as positive as a stone wall. Let 
 the opponents, instead of blustering and talking the 
 
 15 
 
338 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 sheerest nonsense, sift these things for five years, and 
 then they may cavil if they please. The writer in 
 Blackwood thinks Spiritualism the “ disgrace of the 
 ageI, on the contrary, think the disgrace of the age 
 is the want of faith in people’s own senses, and the want 
 of courage to make use of them. 
 
 Of the higher and more sacred teachings of Spiritu¬ 
 alism, and its numerous phases—for this movement of 
 tables is but one, and one of the least—I could say 
 much, but I confine myself here to the refutation of a 
 most transparent calumny. 
 
 121 . 
 
 PRE-EXISTENCE, OR REINCARNATION. 
 
 Orange, N. J., February 16, 1868. 
 
 Two hours of this beautiful, crispy, winter morning 
 have been given to conversation with visitors concern¬ 
 ing the doctrine of learned French Spiritualists who 
 strenuously inculcate the “ eternal past individuality of 
 every human being.” During the conversation, many 
 historical references were made (see “ Mysteries of Life, 
 Death, and Futurity, by IT. Welby) to substantiate the 
 theory. It was shown that Mede, in chap. III. of hir 
 Mystery of Godliness , combats the vulgar opinion of a 
 “ daily creation of souls ” at the time the bodies are 
 produced which they are to inform. He calls “ the 
 reasonable doctrine ” of pre-existence “ a key for some 
 of the main mysteries of Providence, which no other 
 can so handsomely unlock.” Sir Harry Vane is said 
 
REINCARNATION. 
 
 339 
 
 by Burnet to liave maintained this doctrine. Joseph 
 Glanvil, Hector of Bath (the friend of Meric Casaubon 
 and of Baxter, and a metaphysician of singular vigor 
 and acuteness), published in 1662, but without his name, 
 a treatise to prove the reasonableness of the doctrine. 
 It was afterward republished, with annotations, by 
 Dr. Henry More. 
 
 In 1762, the Rev. Capel Berrow published “ A Pre¬ 
 existent Lapse of Human Souls Demonstrated and in 
 the European Magazine for September, 1801, is a letter 
 from Bishop Warburton to the author, in which he 
 says: “ The idea of a pre-existence has been espoused 
 by many learned and ingenious men in every age, as 
 bidding fair to resolve many difficulties.” 
 
 Southey, in his published Letters, says: u I have a 
 strong and lively faith in a state of continued conscious¬ 
 ness from this stage of existence, and that we shall re¬ 
 cover the consciousness of some lower stages through 
 which we may previously have passed seems to me not 
 improbable.” Again: “ The system of progressive ex¬ 
 istence seems, of all others, the most benevolent; and 
 all that we do understand is so wise and so good, and 
 all we do or do not, so perfectly and overwhelmingly 
 wonderful, that the most benevolent system is the most 
 probable.” Every one is familiar with the traces of belief 
 in this doctrine in Wordsworth’s “ Ode on the Intima¬ 
 tion of Immortality in Childhood,” in the lines beginning 
 “ Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.” 
 
 In Chambers's Edinburgh Journal , Ho. 93, New 
 Series, this “ Sentiment of Pre-existence” is stated to 
 have been first described by Sir Walter Scott; this 
 may be correct as to the expression. Scott, it will be 
 
340 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 remembered, was highly susceptible upon psychological 
 matters.* The description is thrown into the mouth 
 of Henry Bertram on his return to Ellangowan Castle : 
 ‘‘ How often,” he says, “ do we find ourselves in society 
 which we have never before met, and yet feel impressed 
 with a mysterious and ill-defined consciousness that 
 neither the scene, the speakers, nor the subject are 
 entirely new; nay, feel as if we could anticipate that 
 part of the conversation which has not yet taken place!’’ 
 
 .We find the following entry in 
 
 Scott’s diary, under the date February 17, 1828 
 
 “I can not, I am sure, tell if it is worth marking clown, that 
 yesterday, at dinner-time, I was strongly haunted by what I would 
 call the sense of pre-existence, in a confirmed idea that nothing 
 which passed was said for the first time ; that the same topics 
 had been discussed, and the same persons had stated the same 
 opinions on them . . . The sensation was so strong as to re¬ 
 
 semble what is called mirage in the desert, or a calenture on 
 board a ship ... It was very distressing yesterday, and 
 brought to my mind the fancies of Bishop Berkeley about an 
 ideal world. There was a vile sense of want of reality in all I 
 did and said.— Lockhart's Life of Scott." 
 
 Sir Bulwer Lytton, in his Godolphin, thus notices 
 this day-dream :— 
 
 “How strange it is that at times a feeling comes over us, as we 
 gaze upon certain places, which associates the scene either with 
 some (lisremembered and dream-like images of the Past, or with a 
 prophetic and fearful omen of the future ! . . . Every one 
 
 * In this volume all theorizing, and all mere speculations on disputed 
 points ol philosophy, are deemed out of place. Therefore, for the author’s 
 impressions on tins subject, the reader is referred to his different works, 
 more especially to the “ Thinker,” Gt. Har. vol. v. Part III, on the 
 “ Lawof Immortality. 
 
REINCARNATION'. 
 
 341 
 
 has known a similar strange, indistinct feeling, at certain times 
 and places, and with a similar inability to trace the cause.” 
 
 Elsewhere the same writer describes the same feeling 
 of reminiscence as “ that strange kind of inner and 
 spiritual memory which often recalls to us places and 
 persons we have never seen before, and which Platonists 
 would resolve to be the unquenched and struggling con¬ 
 sciousness of a former life.” In fewer words, the feel¬ 
 ing may be described as seeing and hearing, apparently 
 for the first time, what we have seen or heard before, 
 though our reason assures us of the contrary. Can any 
 thing be more expressive of the sameness of human ex¬ 
 istence ? 
 
 In one place Tennyson touches upon a like experi¬ 
 ence, thus: 
 
 “ Moreover something is, or seems, 
 
 That teaches me with mystic gleams, 
 
 Like glimpses of forgotten dreams— 
 
 Of something felt, like something here; 
 
 Of something done, I know not where; 
 
 Such as no language may declare.” 
 
 Mr. Dickens, an extremely imaginative and tragedy- 
 loving writer, in his Pictures from Italy , mentions this 
 instance on his first sight of Ferrara ; 
 
 “ On the foreground was a group of silent peasant girls, leaning 
 over the parapet of a little bridge, looking now up at the sky, now 
 down into the water; in the distance a deep bell; the shadow of 
 approaching night on every thing. If I had been murdered there 
 on some former life I could not have seemed to remember the 
 place more thoroughly, or with more emphatic chilling of the 
 blood; and the real remembrance of it acquired in that minute 
 is so strengthened by the imaginary recollection, that I hardly 
 think I could forget it ’ 
 
342 
 
 MEMORANDA. 
 
 It should be remembered that Memory is something 
 more than a mental faculty of registration. The mind 
 is a compound of eternal principles, each of which, 
 being from God and of God, is self-intelligent, from which 
 intelligence memory is inseparable. The most pro¬ 
 foundly spiritual intellect is blest with the most pro¬ 
 found memories (intuitions), and thus the past is, in 
 certain moments, imaged to the consciousness like the 
 
 feelings and scenes of the present.It 
 
 seems to me, whenever I hear or read any thing from 
 the pre-existence philosophers, that they would obtain 
 a more rational explanation of their “ evidences ” by 
 investigating the three forms of mediumsliip, entitled 
 the “ Clairlative,” the “ Symbolic,” and the “Pictorial,” 
 bints of which are given in “ Present Age and Inner 
 Life,” pp. 152, 155, 175. 
 
 122 . 
 
 A STELLAR KEY TO THE SUMMER LAND. 
 
 Orange, N. J., February 18, 1868. 
 
 The Key, Part First, has been in the world about 
 
 six weeks.It was written during the 
 
 time that I was engaged upon “ Arabula;” alternately, 
 an hour at one and an hour at the other ; and both were 
 composed while I, with Magic Staff, was slowly ascend¬ 
 ing the Sixth Mountain.Years have 
 
 elapsed since 1 began the ascent of Mount Harmony, and 
 although I have for a brief period reached its summit, 
 I find myself, as yet, unable to make it an abiding 
 
A STELLAR KEY. 
 
 343 
 
 place.Still, now and then, I am lifted to 
 
 “ perceptions and feelings far beyond the limits of 
 
 thought.”.Yet I know, notwithstand- 
 
 ing these rare communions and exalted contemplations, 
 that I can not write the Second Part of “ Stellar Key ” 
 until I am spiritually able to remain on the mountain, 
 
 undisturbed, for at least four weeks.Yes, 
 
 there is yet work to be accomplished. . . . Rise, 
 O my soul—rise, to thy Labor 1 
 
INTRODUCTION TO HORTENSIA. 
 
 I AM impressed to introduce to the reader the translation of Heinrich 
 Zschokke’s remarkable story of Hortensia, or the Transfigurations , which 
 forms in part the Appendix to this volume. 
 
 The writer, under the inspiration of truth, and with great beauty of 
 language, portrayed the exalted condition of a person deeply entranced, 
 and the strange contrast between that and the ordinary state. “ He 
 builded better than he knew ” by showing that, by the beautiful balance 
 of human powers termed “ health,” the common state might be lifted 
 into the superior condition, and the two be permanently blended. 
 
 The picture of Hortensia’s gradual growth, from disease and discord 
 into sweet and noble womanhood, clearly illustrates the truth, too often 
 entirely overlooked, that much, very much, of the troublous “ evil ” or 
 “ imperfection ” in human nature is traceable, not to “ innate depravity ” 
 or external “demoniac agencies,” but simply to a lack of harmonious 
 and perfect balance between the physical and spiritual parts, which 
 condition only is worthy of being denominated “ Health of Body and 
 Mind.” The gradual cure for this lack, is progression. Hay this lesson, 
 so essential to universal charity and good will, be deeply impressed on 
 every heart. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 HORTENSIA; 
 
 OB, THE 
 
 TRANSFIGURATIONS. 
 
 The charm, elegance, and retirement of the villa, the 
 hospitality of our rich host, Ambrosio Faustino, and the 
 grace of his most lovely wife, contributed not a little to 
 the healing of our wounds, received in the battle of 
 Molito (we were four German officers), but still more 
 the pleasing discovery, that both the generous Faustino 
 and his beautiful wife were of German descent. He 
 was formerly called Faust, and was, by a singular chain 
 of circumstances, induced to settle in Italy and to 
 change his name. The delight of being able, far from 
 our native land, to exchange German words, made us 
 mutually confidential. 
 
 I had the liberty of passing my morning hours in 
 Faustino’s library. There I found, in magnificent rows, 
 the choicest works, and also some volumes of Italian 
 manuscripts, written by Faustino. They were memoirs 
 
 to* 
 
340 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 of his own life, mingled with observations on painting 
 and sculpture. I asked the favor of being permitted to 
 read them, which Faustino was not only good enough 
 to grant, but also drew out one of the volumes, and 
 pointed out wbat I should read. 
 
 “ Read it,” said he, “ and believe me, however in¬ 
 credible it may appear, it is true. Even to myself, it 
 seems at times a deception of the imagination, though 
 I have experienced it all.” 
 
 He also imparted to me many smaller circumstances. 
 "But this is sufficient for an introduction. Here follows 
 the fragment from Faustino’s, or rather Faust’s memoirs. 
 
 ADVENTURES IN VENZONI. 
 
 On the twelfth of September, 1771, I crossed the 
 stream of Tagliamento, at Spilemberg. I approached 
 with firm steps the German confines, which I had not 
 seen for many years. My soul was full of an indescrib¬ 
 able melancholy, and it seemed as if an invisible power 
 drew me back. It constantly cried to me to return. 
 In fact, twice did I stop on the wretched road, looked 
 toward Italy, and wished to return again to Yenice. 
 But then, when I asked myself, “What argues it? to 
 live! for what?” I again proceeded onward, toward 
 the dark mountains, which rose before me in clouds and 
 rain. 
 
 I had but little money in my pocket, scarcely suffi¬ 
 cient to reach Yienna, unless I begged on the way, or 
 should sell either my watch, linen, or better clothes, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 347 
 
 which I carried in a knapsack. The finest years of my 
 youth I had passed in Italy, in order to improve myself 
 in painting and sculpture. At last I advanced suffi¬ 
 ciently in my art to discover, in my twenty-seventh year, 
 that I should never accomplish any thing really great. 
 It is true, my Roman friends had often had the kind¬ 
 ness to encourage me. Many of my pieces had occa¬ 
 sionally sold well. Nevertheless this gave me but little 
 comfort. I could not but despise creations which gave 
 me no satisfaction. I experienced the painful feeling 
 that I was and should remain too weak to call into 
 life, witli pencil or chisel, the living conceptions within 
 me. Tins threw me into despair—I wished not for 
 money—I longed only for the power of art; I cursed 
 my lost years, and returned to Germany. At that time 
 I still had friends there: I longed for a solitude, where 
 I could forget myself. I would become a village school¬ 
 master, or engage in any humble employment, in order 
 to punish my bold ambition, which had attempted to 
 rival Raphael and Angelo. 
 
 The rainy weather had already continued several 
 days, and increased my uncomfortable feelings. The 
 thought frequently awoke in me, if I could but die! A 
 fresh shower drew me aside from the road, under a tree. 
 There I long sat upon a rock, looking back with deep 
 melancholy upon the destroyed plans and hopes of my 
 life. I saw myself solitary, amid wild mountains. The 
 cold rain fell in streams. Not far from me a swollen 
 torrent roared through the rocks. “ What will become 
 of me ?” sighed I. I looked at the torrent to see 
 whether it were deep enough to drown me if I threw 
 myself in. I was vexed that I had not already made an 
 
34S 
 
 APPKNDIX. 
 
 end of my sufferings at Tagliamento. Suddenly an 
 unspeakable anguish, and the pangs of death, seized 
 me. I sprang up and ran on in the rain, as if I would 
 escape from myself. It was already evening, and be¬ 
 coming late. 
 
 I came to a single large house not far from Venzoni. 
 The increasing darkness, continued rain, and my own 
 fatigue, induced me to stop at this building, which ex¬ 
 hibited the friendly and inviting sign of accommodation 
 for travelers. As I passed the threshold of the door, a 
 violent shuddering and the same mortal agony seized 
 me that I had experienced while sitting on the rock in 
 the wood. I remained at the door to take breath, but 
 quickly recovered myself. I felt lighter than I had for 
 some days, when in the warm public room I again felt 
 the breath of man. Without doubt it had been merely 
 an attack of bodily weakness. 
 
 They welcomed me, and I cheerfully threw my 
 knapsack on the table. I was shown a small room 
 where I could change my wet clothes. While undress¬ 
 ing, I heard a quick step on the stairs; the room door 
 opened, and some hasty questions were asked about me, 
 such as whether I should remain over night—if I came 
 on foot and carried a knapsack—if I had light hair; 
 and many more of a like nature. The interrogators 
 went away—came again, and another voice asked simi¬ 
 lar questions. I knew not what it meant. 
 
 When I returned to the public room all eyes exam¬ 
 ined. me with curiosity. I seated myself as if I remark 
 ed nothing. Yet I was tormented to discover where¬ 
 fore any one had made such particular inquiries about 
 me. I led the discourse to the weather- -from the 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 349 
 
 weather to traveling, and from thence to the inquiry, 
 if any more strangers were in the house. I was in¬ 
 formed that there was a noble family from Germany, 
 consisting of an old gentleman and a very beautiful and 
 sick young lady, an elderly lady, probably the mother 
 of the young one, a physician, two servants, and two 
 maids. The party arrived at mid-day, and had been 
 detained, partly by the badness of the weather, and 
 partly by the weakness of the young lady. I learned, 
 besides, that both the physician and the old gentleman 
 had come into the public room, in great haste, and had 
 inquired with some anxiety and astonishment about me. 
 The host was certain that the party knew me w r ell. He 
 urged me to go up, as I should certainly meet old 
 friends and acquaintances, since they appeared to ex¬ 
 pect me. I shook my head, convinced that there was 
 some mistake. In the whole world I had no noble 
 acquaintances, and least of all could I claim any of the 
 German nobility. What confirmed me still more in 
 this belief was, that an old servant of the count came in, 
 seated himself at the table near me, and in broken 
 Italian called for wine. When I addressed him in 
 German, he was delighted to hear his native tongue. 
 He now related to me all that he knew of his master. 
 The gentleman was a Count Hormegg, who was carry¬ 
 ing his daughter to Italy for change of air. 
 
 The more the old man drank, the more talkative he 
 became. At first, he seated himself gloomily by me ; 
 at the second flask he breathed more freely. As I said 
 to him, that I thought of going back to Germany, he 
 sighed deeply, looked toward heaven, and his eyes 
 filled with tears. “Could I only go with you ! could I 
 
350 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 only go ! ” said he, sorrowfully and softly to ine. £ 1 
 can bear it no longer. I believe a curse rests on this 
 family. Strange things occur among them. I dare 
 confide them to no one, and if I dare, sir, who would 
 believe me ?” 
 
 THE MELANCHOLY COMPANY OF TRAVELERS. 
 
 By the third flask of wine, Sebald, for so he was 
 called, became open-hearted. “ Countryman,” said he, 
 and he looked timidly round the room; but no one 
 was present except ourselves; we were sitting alone by 
 the dim burning candles. “ Countryman, they can not 
 blind me. Here is a curse under the veil and abun¬ 
 dance of riches—here rules the bad spirit himself; God 
 be merciful unto us ! The count is immensely rich, but 
 he creeps about like a poor sinner; he is seldom heard 
 to speak, and is never gay. The old lady, companion, 
 governor, or something of that kind to the Countess 
 Hortensia, appears to be in constant fear from a bad 
 conscience. The countess herself—truly a child of 
 paradise—can scarcely be more beautiful; but I believe 
 her father has united her with the devil. Jesu Maria ! 
 what was that ? ” 
 
 The frightened Sebald started from his seat and 
 became deadly pale. It was nothing but a window 
 shutter dashed violently to by the wind and rain. Aftei 
 I had tranquilized my companion, he continued :— 
 
 “It is no wonder; one must live in constant fear of 
 death. One of us must and will shortly die ! That l 
 have heard from the young woman, Catharine. God be 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 351 
 
 merciful to me! May I not, in the mean time, with 
 my comrade, Thomas, refresh myself with wine ? Sir, 
 there is no want of what we desire, to eat or drink, nor 
 of money; we fail only in a happy mind. I should long 
 since have run off-” 
 
 Sebald’s fable appeared to me to be full of his wine. 
 
 “ From what do you infer that one of you must die?” 
 
 “ There is nothing to infer,” replied Sebald ; “ it is 
 only too certain. The Countess Hortensia has said it, 
 but no one dares speak of it. Look you—at Judenberg, 
 fourteen days ago, we had the same story. The young 
 countess announced the death of one of us. Being all 
 in good health, we did not believe it. But as we were 
 proceeding on the highway, Mr. Muller, the secretary of 
 the count, a man generally beloved, suddenly fell, to¬ 
 gether with his horse and baggage, from the height of 
 the road, over the rocks, into the abyss beneath, ten 
 times deeper than the church steeple. Jesu Maria! 
 what a spectacle! Hearing and sight left me. Man 
 and horse lay shattered to pieces. When you pass 
 through the village where he lies buried, the people will 
 relate it to you. I dare not think of it. The only 
 question now is, which of us is to be the next victim ? 
 But if it comes to pass, by my poor soul, I will demand 
 my discharge from the count. There is something 
 wrong here ; I love my old neck, and do not wish to 
 break it in the service of the God-forsaken.” 
 
 I smiled at his superstitious distress, but he swore 
 stoutly, and whispered : “ The Countess Hortensia is 
 possessed by a legion of devils. For a year she had 
 frequently run over the roof of the castle Hormeggar,- 
 as we scarcely could do on level ground. She prophe- 
 
352 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 sies; she often, unexpectedly, falls into a trance, and 
 sees the heavens open ; she looks into the interior of the 
 human body. Dr. Walter, who is certainly an honest 
 man, affirms that she can not only see through people, 
 as if they were glass, but also through doors and walls. 
 It is horrible. In her rational hours, she is very sensi¬ 
 ble. But, O God ! it is in her irrational hours that she 
 governs us, when those evil spirits speak out of her. 
 Could we not have remained upon the high road ? But 
 no ! Immediately upon leaving Villach, we must go 
 on sumpter horses and mules over the worst roads and 
 most frightful precipices. And wherefore? Because 
 she so willed it. Had we remained on the great road, 
 Mr. Muller (God be merciful to him!) would still, to¬ 
 day, have drunk his glass of wine.” 
 
 ATTEMPT AT AN ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 The return of the people of the house, with my spare 
 evening’s meal, interrupted Sebald’s gossip. He prom¬ 
 ised when we were again alone to disclose many more 
 secrets. He left me. In his place, a small, thin, gloomy- 
 looking man seated himself, whom Sebald, on going 
 away, called doctor. I knew, therefore, that I had be¬ 
 fore me another member of the melancholy travelers. 
 The doctor looked at me, at my supper, for awhile 
 silently. He appeared to be watching me. He tnen 
 began to ask me, in French, from whence I came, and 
 where I thought of going ? When he heard 1 was a 
 German, he became more friendly, and conversed with 
 
APPKNDIX. 
 
 353 
 
 me in our native tongue. In answer to my questions, 1 
 learned that Count Hormegg was traveling with his 
 sick naugliter to Venice. 
 
 “ Could you not,” said the doctor, “ give us your 
 company, since you have no particular object in going 
 to Germany \ You are more familiar with the Italian 
 language than we are—know the country, the manners, 
 and healthy parts. You could be of great service to us. 
 The count could take you immediately in place of his 
 secretary. You will be free of expense, have a comfort¬ 
 able life, six hundred louis-d’ors salary, and to that added 
 the known liberality of the count.” 
 
 I shook my head, and remarked, that neither did I 
 know the count, nor the count me, sufficiently to foresee 
 whether we should be agreeable to each other. The 
 doctor now made the count’s eulogium. I replied in 
 return, that it would be very difficult to say so much to 
 my advantage to the count. 
 
 “ Oh, if that is all,” cried he hastily, “ you are already 
 recommended ; you may, therefore, rely on it.” 
 
 “ Recommended ! By whom ?” 
 
 The doctor appeared to be seeking for words, in order 
 to rectify his hastiness. 
 
 “ Eh, why through necessity — I can promise you, that 
 the count will pay you a hundred louis-d’ors down, if 
 you-” 
 
 “No,” replied I, “I have never in my life labored 
 for superfluities; only for what is necessary. From 
 childhood I have been accustomed to an independent 
 life. I am far from being rich, yet I will never sell 
 my freedom.” 
 
 The doctor appeared to be irritated. In truth, I was 
 
354 
 
 A FPENDIX. 
 
 serious in what I said. Add to this, that I particularly 
 desired not to return to Italy, in order that my passion 
 for the arts should not resume its power. I do not 
 deny, also, that the sudden importunity of the doctor, 
 and the general behavior of these travelers, were dis¬ 
 agreeable to me, though I certainly did not believe that 
 the sick countess was possessed by a legion of devils. As 
 all his persuasions had no other effect than to make me 
 more unwilling, the doctor left me. I then reflected on 
 all the different little circumstances—weighed my 
 poverty against the comfortable existence in the train of 
 the rich count, and played with the little money in my 
 pocket, which was all my riches. The result of these 
 reflections were—“Away from Italy; God’s world 
 stands open before you. Be firm! only peace in the 
 breast—a village school and independence? I must 
 first endeavor to recover my individuality. Yes, I have 
 lost all—the whole plan of my life—gold can not replace 
 it.” 
 
 NEW OFFERS. 
 
 My surprise was not a little increased, when, scarcely 
 ten minutes after the doctor’s departure, a servant of 
 the count appeared, and begged me, in his name, to 
 visit him in his room. “ What in the world do these 
 people want with me ?” thought I. But I promised to 
 go. The adventure began, if not to amuse, at least to 
 excite my curiosity. 
 
 I found the count alone in his room ; he was walking 
 with great strides up and down—a tall, strong, respect- 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 355 
 
 able-looking man, with a dignified appearance, and 
 pleasing, though melancholy features. He came imme¬ 
 diately to meet me, and apologized for having sent for 
 me—led me to a seat, mentioned what he had heard of 
 me through the doctor, and repeated his offers, which I 
 as modestly, but firmly, declined. He went thought¬ 
 fully, with his hands thrown behind his back, to the 
 window', returned hastily, seated himself near me, and 
 taking my hand in his, said : “ Friend, I appeal to your 
 heart. My eye must deceive me much, if you are not 
 an honest man—consequently sincere. Remain with 
 me, I entreat you — remain only two years. Count upon 
 my deepest gratitude. You shall have, during that 
 time, whatever you need, and at the expiration of it, I 
 will pay you a thousand louis-d’ors ; you will not repent 
 having lost a couple of years in my service.” He said 
 this so kindly and entreatingly, that I was much moved, 
 more so by the tone and manner, than bv the promise 
 of so large a sum, which secured me, with my trifling 
 wants, a free and independent fortune. I would have 
 accepted the offer, had I not been ashamed to show, that 
 at last I had yielded to vile gold. On the other side, 
 his brilliant offers seemed to me suspicious. 
 
 “ For such a sum, my lord, you can command much 
 more distinguished talents than mine. YY>u do not know 
 me.” 
 
 I then spoke to him openly of my past destiny and 
 occupation, and thought by that means, -without vexing 
 him, to put aside his offers, as well as his desire to have 
 me. 
 
 ‘‘We must not separate,” said he, as he pressed my 
 hand entreatingly. “ We must not, since it is you alone 
 
356 
 
 APPKNDIX. 
 
 that I liave sought. It may astonish you ; but on your 
 account only, have I undertaken this journey with my 
 daughter; on your account have I chosen the worst 
 road from Villacli here, that I might not miss you ; on 
 your account have I stopped at this inn.” 
 
 I looked at the count with astonishment, and thought 
 he wished to jest with me. 
 
 “How could you seek me, since you knew me not? 
 since no one knew the road I wandered ? I, myself, 
 three days ago, knew not that I should take this road to 
 Germany.” 
 
 “ Is not this a fact ?” continued he. “ This afternoon 
 you rested in a wood ; you sat, full of sorrow, in a wil¬ 
 derness ; you leaned on a rock, under a large tree ; you 
 gazed at the mountain torrent; you ran on impetuously 
 in the rain. Is it not so ? Confess candidly—is it not 
 so ?” 
 
 At these words my senses forsook me. He saw my 
 consternation, and said : “ Well, it is so ! you are, indeed, 
 the man I seek.” 
 
 “ But,” cried I, “ I do not deny that some supersti¬ 
 tious horrors seized me,” and I drew my hand out of 
 his. “ Who watched me ? Who told you of it ?” 
 
 “ My daughter—my sick daughter. I can easily be¬ 
 lieve that to you it appears wonderful. But the unfor¬ 
 tunate one says and sees many strange things in her 
 sickness. 
 
 “ Four weeks since she declared that only through 
 your means could she be restored to perfect health. 
 And as } r ou now appear before me, so did my daughter 
 describe you four weeks ago. Perhaps about fourteen 
 days since, she declared that you came, sent by God, to 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 357 
 
 meet us, and that we must break up and seek you. 
 We set out. She directed the way we should take—at 
 least the part of the world we should go to. With the 
 compass in the carriage, and the map in hand, w'e 
 traveled, uncertain where, like a ship at sea. At Vil- 
 lach, she pointed out the nearest way to you, described 
 even the particulars, and that we must leave the high 
 road. From Hortensia’s mouth, I learnt this morning 
 how near you were, and at the same time the little cir¬ 
 cumstances which I have mentioned to you. Immedi¬ 
 ately after your arrival, Dr. Walter declared to me 
 that, from the description of the host, you resembled 
 exactly the person whom Hortensia, four weeks ago, 
 and since that time almost daily, had described. I am 
 now convinced of it, and since so much has already 
 been fulfilled, I do not for a moment doubt that you 
 and no other can save my daughter, and give me back 
 my lost happiness.” 
 
 He was silent, and waited my answer. I sat long, 
 uncertain and silent. I had never in my life met with 
 so singular an adventure. 
 
 “ What you tell me, my lord, is somewhat incompre¬ 
 hensible, and therefore, with your permission, some¬ 
 what incredible. I am, or rather I was, nothing but 
 an artist; and I know nothing of medicine.” 
 
 “There is much in life,” said he, “that is incompre¬ 
 hensible to us, but all that is incomprehensible, is not 
 therefore incredible, particularly when we can not put 
 aside the reality, and the phenomenon stands before us, 
 whose cause lies hidden before us. You are no physi¬ 
 cian ; that may be. But the same power which has 
 discovered to my daughter your existence in the world 
 
358 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 has, without doubt, destined you to be her savior. In 
 my youth I was a freethinker, who scarcely believed 
 in God, and can now, in my mature age, even go as far 
 as any old woman, and consider as possible the exist¬ 
 ence of devils, witches, specters, and familiar spirits. 
 Hence is explained both my importunity and my offers. 
 The first is very pardonable in a father, who lives in 
 constant anxiety about his only child ; and my offers are 
 not too great for the saving of so precious a life. I see 
 how unexpected, extraordinary, and romantic it must 
 all appear to you; but remain with us, and you will be 
 a witness to many unexpected things. Ho you wish 
 for an occupation exempt from the care and trouble of 
 a journey. It depends upon yourself to choose. 1 
 will impose no labor on you. Remain only as my con¬ 
 fidential companion, my comforter. I have before me 
 a heavy hour, perhaps it is very near: one of our com¬ 
 pany will suddenly and, it I rightly understand, in an 
 unusual manner, die. It may be myself. My daugh¬ 
 ter has foretold it, aL I it will happen. I tremble to 
 meet the fatal moment, from which my whole fortune 
 can not redeem me. I am a very unhappy man.” 
 
 Tie said still more, and was even moved to tears. I 
 found myself in a singular dilemma. All that I heard 
 excited sometimes my astonishment, sometimes my 
 just doubts. Sometimes I had a suspicion of the right 
 understanding of the count, and sometimes supposed 
 the error was my own. At last, I made the courageous 
 resolution to attempt the adventure, come what would 
 of it. It appeared to me unjust to consider the count 
 an impostor; and in God’s wide world I had no em¬ 
 ployment or living. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 359 
 
 “ I renounce all your generous offers, my lord,” said 
 I: “ give me onlv as mucli as I have need of. I will 
 accompany you. It is sufficient for me if I may hope 
 to contribute to your happiness and your daughter’s 
 recovery, though, as yet, I in no way comprehend the 
 how. A human life is of much value ; I shall be proud 
 if I have it in my power, one day, to believe that I 
 have saved the life of a human being. But I release 
 you from all that you promised me; I do nothing for 
 money. On the contrary, I will, moreover, maintain 
 my independence. I will remain in your retinue as 
 long as I can be of service to you, or can find my life 
 comfortable in it. If you agree to those terms, then I 
 am at your service. You can introduce me to your 
 invalid.” 
 
 The count’s eyes shone with joy. He inclosed me 
 silently in his arms, and pressed me to his heart, while 
 he merely sighed, “ Thank God !” After a time he 
 said, “ To-morrow you shall see my daughter. She has 
 already gone to rest. I must prepare her for your 
 presence.” 
 
 “Prepare her for my presence?” exclaimed I, sur¬ 
 prised. “Did you not tell me, a few minutes since, 
 that she had announced my arrival, and described my 
 person ?” 
 
 “ Your pardon, dear Faust; I forgot to inform you 
 of one circumstance. My daughter is like a double 
 person. When she is in her natural state, she is in no 
 way conscious of what she hears, sees, knows, and says 
 in her state of trance, if I may so call it. She does 
 not recollect the smallest trifle that occurred during 
 that period, and would herself doubt that she had 
 
i$60 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 spoken and acted as we have related to her, if she had 
 not every reason to place confidence in my words. 
 But in her trance, slie remembers all that has passed 
 in a similar state, as well as what she has experienced 
 in her usual and natural life. It is only during her 
 trance that she has seen and described you, but out of 
 that she knows nothing of you, except that we, by re¬ 
 peating her own expressions, have been able to inform 
 her. Let us only wait for one of her extraordinary 
 moments, and I have no doubt she will immediately 
 recollect you.” 
 
 In a conversation of some hours, I learnt from the 
 count that his daughter had for years, even from a 
 child, an inclination to sleep-walking. In a state of 
 somnambulism, she had, without being able to recollect 
 it afterward, with closed eyes, left her bed, dressed her¬ 
 self, written letters to those present, or played the most 
 difficult pieces on the piano, and executed a hundred 
 other trifles with a skill, which she not only did not 
 possess when awake, but which she could not afterward 
 acquire. The count believed that that which he now 
 sometimes called a trance and sometimes a transfigura¬ 
 tion, was nothing more than a higher state of somnam¬ 
 bulism, but which enfeebled his daughter almost to 
 death. 
 
 A FRIGHTFUL EVENT. 
 
 It was late when I left the count’s apartment. There 
 was no one but old Sebald in the public room, who was 
 still enjoying his wine. 
 
APPKNDIX. 
 
 301 
 
 “ Sir,” said lie, “ speak a little German with me, 
 that I may not entirely forget my noble language, 
 which would in truth be a shame. You have spoken 
 with the count ?” 
 
 “ I have spoken with him. I shall now travel with 
 him to Italy, and remain in your company.” 
 
 “ Excellent! It does me good to have one more 
 German face near me. The Italians, as I have heard, 
 are bad birds. Now, with the exception of our possess¬ 
 ed countess, you will be pleased with all our company. 
 As you now belong to us, I can now speak more openly 
 of our affairs. The count would be a good man if he 
 could only smile. I believe he is not pleased when one 
 laughs. All that surrounds him has the aspect of the 
 last day. The old lady is also right good, but is easily 
 vexed, if one does not immediately fly here and there 
 according to her motions. I believe she goes to Italy 
 merely on account of the pure burnt water, as she 
 loves a glass of liquor. The sick countess also would 
 not be bad, if she had not, beside her pride, an army 
 of devils in her body. Whoever wishes to be in her 
 good graces must creep on all-fours. Bow yourself 
 diligently before her. Dr. Walter would be the best 
 of us all, if he only knew how to exorcise the devils. 
 My comrade, Thomas, is therefore-” At this mo¬ 
 
 ment the host, full of horror, rushed into the room, and 
 cried to his people, “ Help ! help ! there is lire.” 
 
 “Where is the fire?” asked I, alarmed. 
 
 “ Up-stairs, in a chamber; I saw’ the bright flames 
 outside the window.” 
 
 He ran out; the house was filled with cries and con¬ 
 fusion. I was following, when Sebald, white as a 
 16 
 
362 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 corpse, held me by both arms : “ Jesu Maria ! what lias 
 happened?” I told him in German to get water, as the 
 house was on fire. 
 
 “ Another piece of deviltry !” sighed he, and hurried 
 into the kitchen. 
 
 The people ran up and down stairs. It was said the 
 room was fastened, and they sought instruments to 
 break open the door. Sebald was up-stairs even as soon 
 as myself, with a bucket of water. As he perceived 
 the door, toward which all pressed, he cried, “ Jesu 
 Maria ! that is the chamber of the old lady.” 
 
 “ Burst it open,” cried the Count Hormegg, in ex¬ 
 treme agony. “ Burst it open: Mrs. Montlue sleeps 
 there, and she will be suffocated.” 
 
 A man soon came with an ax, but it was not with¬ 
 out difficulty that he could break the strong, well-mor¬ 
 tised oaken door. All pressed in, but, shuddering, 
 bounded back. 
 
 The room was dark. Only in the background, near 
 the window, a yellow flame played on the floor, which 
 soon went out. An indescribably sharp stench blew 
 toward us as we opened the door. Sebald made the 
 sign of the cross, and sprang headlong down stairs ; 
 some of the maids followed his example. The count 
 called for a light. It was brought. I went through 
 the room in order to open the window. The count 
 directed us to the bed. It was empty and undisturbed, 
 and nowhere any smoke. Hear the window the stench 
 was so great it made me sick. 
 
 The count called the name of Mrs. Montlue. As he 
 came nearer with the burning candle, I saw at my feet 
 — imagine my horror!—a large black spot of ashes, and 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 3tJ3 
 
 near by a burnt bead we could not recognize; one arm 
 with the hand ; in another place three fingers, and 
 the foot of a lady, partly charred. 
 
 “ Great God !” cried the count, turning pale, “ what 
 is that ?” He observed, shuddering, the remains of a 
 human figure. He saw the fingers with the rings, and 
 sprang, with a loud shriek, to meet the doctor, who 
 was entering. “ Mrs. Montlue is burnt, yet no fire, no 
 smoke! Incomprehensible!” 
 
 He tottered back, in order once more to convince 
 himself of the reality of his discovery. He then gave up 
 the candle, folded his hands, looked fixedly before him, 
 and turning deadly pale, left the room. 
 
 I stood petrified, by a so horrible and unheard-of 
 spectacle. All that had happened during this day, the 
 wonders that had been told, had so stupefied me, that I 
 stood, without feeling, gazing at the black dust, the 
 coals, and the disgusting remains of a human form at 
 my feet. The room was soon filled with the men and 
 women belonging to the inn. I heard their whispers 
 and their stealthy steps. It seemed to me that I was 
 in the midst of specters. The nursery tales of my 
 childhood were ripened to reality. 
 
 When I came to myself, I withdrew from the cnam- 
 ber, intending to go down into the public room. At 
 that moment, a door at the side opened ; a young lady, 
 dressed in a light night dress, came out, supported by 
 two maids, each of whom carried a lighted candle. I 
 remained standing, as if blinded by this new appari¬ 
 tion. So much nobleness in figure, movement, and 
 features, I had never seen in reality; nor ever found in 
 the creations of the painter or statuary. The horrors 
 
APPKNDIX. 
 
 3G4: 
 
 of the preceding moments were almost foigotten. I 
 was only eyes and admiration. The young beauty 
 tottered toward the chamber, where the frightful event 
 had occurred. When she observed the men and wo¬ 
 men, she stood still, and cried out in the German lan¬ 
 guage, and with a commanding voice, “ Drive away 
 this crowd from me.” Immediately one of the count’s 
 servants executed her commands. He did it with such 
 uncourtly violence, that he forced them all, and me 
 with them, from the gallery to the stairs. 
 
 “ If there ever has been a fairy, this is one,” thought 
 I. Sebald was sitting, quite pale, in the public room, 
 near the wine. “ Did not I say so ?” cried he. “ One 
 of us must go. The possessed, or rather that malicious 
 Satan, so willed it. The one must break his bones and 
 neck—the other, a living body, be burnt. Your obe¬ 
 dient servant, I take my leave to-morrow, lest the next 
 turn comes to my insignificant self. Whoever is as 
 prudent as I am will not travel with them to hell. In 
 Italy, even the mountains spit fire. God keep me from 
 going too near. I should certainly be the first roast of 
 Moloch, since I am much too pious, and, nevertheless, 
 at all hours not a saint.” 
 
 I told him of the young lady. 
 
 “ That was she,” said he; “ that was the countess. 
 God be near unto us. She has, probably, desired to 
 snuff up the burnt mess. Go with me to-morrow; let 
 us make our escape. Your bright young life raises my 
 sincere compassion.” 
 
 “Even the Countess Hortensia?” 
 
 “ Who else ? She is handsome, therefore the chief 
 of the deiils has himself bewitched her ; but-” 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 365 
 
 At this time, Sebald was called by the count; he 
 went, or rather staggered, sighing deeply. The acci¬ 
 dent had filled the whole house with noise. I sat ou 
 my chair, amid all these wonders, estranged from my¬ 
 self. Long after midnight, the host showed me a smal 
 room, where there was a bed. 
 
 ANTIPATHY. 
 
 After the fatigues of the past day, I slept soundly 
 until nearly mid-day. As I awoke, the events of yes¬ 
 terday appeared like a feverish phantom, or the illu¬ 
 sions of intoxication. I could neither convince myself 
 of their truth, nor yet doubt tliem. I considered every 
 thing now with greater composure of mind. I no 
 longer hesitated to remain with the count. I rather 
 followed him with pleasure and curiosity, so entirely 
 new and wonderful did my destiny appear. Then also 
 what bad I to lose in Germany ? What even in life ? 
 What could I risk in following the count ? At last, it 
 only depended upon myself to break the thread of the 
 romance as soon as its length became disagreeable to 
 me. When I entered the public room, I found it filled 
 with the overseers of the place, police officers, capu¬ 
 chins, and peasants of the neighboring country, who 
 had been drawn thither either from motives of curiosity 
 or by their official duties. Not one of them doubted 
 but that the burning of the lady was the work of the 
 devil. The count, indeed, had the remains of the un¬ 
 fortunate woman buried by his own people. But it was 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 3G6 
 
 thought proper that the whole house should be conse¬ 
 crated and blessed by the reverend Capuchin fathers, 
 in order that it might be purified from the evil spirit. 
 This was a considerable expense. There was a ques¬ 
 tion, whether we should be arrested and given up to 
 justice; but it was disputed whether we should be 
 delivered to the civil or ecclesiastical authority. The 
 majority were in favor of our being taken to Undine, 
 and brought before the archbishops. 
 
 The count, not being master of the Italian language, 
 w:is glad when he saw me. He had in vain offered 
 a large sum of money to defray the expenses occasioned 
 by the extraordinary circumstances. He entreated me 
 to finish the business with the people in his name. 
 
 I immediately drew near the priests and police- 
 officers, and declared to them that, until now, I had as 
 little connection with the count as themselves, and 
 offered two things for their consideration ; either the 
 misfortune of burning had happened naturally, or at 
 least without the participation of the count, in which 
 case they would bring much trouble on themselves, by 
 the arrest of so high a nobleman; or he was truly in 
 league with bad spirits, in which case, he could out of 
 revenge, play some bad tricks on them, their cloister, 
 and their village. Their wisest course was, to take the 
 count’s money and let him go ; they would then have 
 no responsibility or resentment to fear, and in any case 
 would be the gainers. My reasons were obvious. The 
 money was paid. Our horses were given us—we 
 mounted, and rode on. The prospect cleared up. 
 
 The countess, with the women and other servants, had 
 gone some hours before; the count, with only one serv- 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 367 
 
 ant, having remained behind. On the way, he began 
 to speak of the frightful event of the past evening. He 
 said his daughter had been very much overcome by it. 
 She had suffered for some hours with cramps and 
 convulsions, after which she had a quiet sleep. She 
 appeared tranquil on awakening ; but desired to leave 
 the unfortunate house immediately. 
 
 Probably in order to prepare me for my future situa¬ 
 tion, he added: “ I am obliged to pardon and yield 
 much to my sick child. She is of unconquerable obsti¬ 
 nacy. From her extraordinary irritability, the least 
 contradiction moves her to anger, and a slight vexation 
 is sufficient to cause many days of suffering. I have 
 announced your arrival to her. She heard it with in¬ 
 difference. I asked if I might introduce you to her. 
 Her answer was, ‘ Do you think I have so much curi¬ 
 osity? Tt will be time enough when we are in Venice.’ 
 I think, however, we shall have sufficient opportunities 
 on the way. Do not allow the humors of my daughter 
 to vex you, my dear Faust. She is a sick, unfortunate 
 creature, whom we must treat with tenderness, lest we 
 destroy her. She is my only treasure, my last joy on 
 earth. The loss of Mrs. Montlue does not appear to be 
 painful to her, as she had lately, I know not from what 
 cause, taken an aversion to her. Perhaps the slight, 
 certainly not violent inclination of that person to strong 
 drink, was disgusting to her. Dr. Walter affirms, also, 
 that this habit was the cause of her spontaneous com¬ 
 bustion. Formerly, she was a very good woman, and 
 much attached to my daughter and myself. I lament 
 her loss very deeply. Dr. Walter related to me other 
 instances which must be extremely rare, of the sponta- 
 
36S 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 neons combustion of the human body, by which it 
 a few moments reduced to ashes. He endeavore -to 
 account for the phenomenon on very natural grounds, 
 but I can not comprehend it. Only this much I know, 
 this burning door of death is one of the most frightful.” 
 
 Thus spoke the count, and this formed the subject of 
 our conversation to Venice. For the young countess 
 had now the humor, notwithstanding her bodily weak¬ 
 ness, and the objections of her father and the physician, 
 to make the journey by long days’ rides, and with no 
 other delay than the nightly rest demanded. I had not, 
 therefore, the honor of an introduction. Nay, I must 
 even keep at a distance, since, alas ! I had not the good 
 fortune to please her. 
 
 She was carried in a sedan chair—servants ran near 
 her on foot. The women rode, and the count, likewise, 
 in his own carriage. The doctor and myself rode on 
 horseback. 
 
 As the countess one morning came out of the inn to 
 mount her sedan, she perceived me, and said to Dr. 
 Walter, “ Who is that man, that forever and eternally 
 follows us?” 
 
 “ Mr. Faust, my good lady.” 
 
 “ A disagreeable fellow—send him back.” 
 
 “ You, yourself, have wished for him; it was on his 
 account that the journey was undertaken. Consider 
 him as a medicine which you have ordered for your¬ 
 self.” 
 
 “ He has the disgusting qualities common to all 
 drugs.” 
 
 I was near enough to hear this not very flattering 
 speech, and knew not what countenance I put on, though 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 369 
 
 I well recollect that I was almost vexed, and should 
 immediately have left the whimsical Venus, had not 
 the count been so kind. I could not affirm that I was 
 a handsome man, but I know that generally I did not 
 displease the women. But now, only to be endured as 
 a disgusting medicine, was too severe on the vanity of a 
 young man, especially for one who, had he been a prince 
 or count, would not have hesitated to have joined him¬ 
 self to the adorers of the charming Hortensia. 
 
 In the mean while I continued with them. The 
 countess reached Venice without any particular acci¬ 
 dent, and her medicine followed obediently after. A 
 magnificent palace was hired, in which I had an apart¬ 
 ment, and also servants, particularly appropriated to my 
 service. The count lived in great style, as it is called. 
 He had many friends among the Venetian nobility. 
 
 THE TRANCE. 
 
 We had been about four days in Venice, when one 
 afternoon I was hastily sent for by the count. He 
 received me with an unusually cheerful countenance. 
 
 “My daughter,” said he, “has inquired for you. 
 Indeed, no day has passed without her speaking of you: 
 she has done so already to-day; but now is the first 
 time that she has desired your presence. Enter her 
 room with me, but very gently ; the least noise thrc ws 
 her into dangerous cramps.” 
 
 “ But,” asked I, with secret horror, “ what does she 
 wish me to do ?” 
 
 lfi* 
 
370 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 “Who can answer?” replied the count. “Wait for 
 the future. May God direct all.” 
 
 We entered a large state chamber, hung round with 
 green silk hangings. Two female servants were leaning, 
 silent and anxious, near the window—the doctor sat on 
 a sofa, watching the invalid. She stood upright, with 
 closed eyes, in the middle of the room—one of her 
 beautiful arms was hanging down, the other, half raised, 
 stiff and immovable as a statue. Only the movement 
 of her bosom betrayed breath. The solemn silence 
 which reigned, the goddess-like figure of Hortensia, 
 upon whom all eyes were fixed, filled me with involun¬ 
 tary yet pleasing horror. 
 
 As soon as I entered this silent sanctuary, the count¬ 
 ess, without opening her eyes or changing her posi¬ 
 tion, said, with an indescribably sweet voice, “ At last, 
 Emanuel! why dost thou keep so far off? Oh, come 
 hither, and bless her, that she may be cured of her suf¬ 
 ferings.” 
 
 I probably looked rather foolish at this speech, being 
 uncertain whether or not it regarded me. The count 
 and the doctor motioned me to draw nearer, and gave 
 me a sign that I should, like a priest, make the sign of 
 the cross toward, or else, as blessing her, lay my hands 
 on her. 
 
 I approached, and raised my hands over her wonder¬ 
 fully beautiful head. But from extreme respect, had 
 not courage to touch her. I let my hands sink slowly 
 down again. Hortensia’s countenance seemed to betray 
 discontent. I again raised my hands, and held them 
 stretched out toward her, uncertain what I was to do. 
 Her countenance cleared, which induced me to remain 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 371 
 
 in that position. My embarrassment, however, increased 
 as the countess said, “Emanuel, thou hast not yet the 
 will to relieve her. Oh, only give thy will—thy will. 
 Thou art all powerful. Thy will can do all.” 
 
 “ Gracious countess,” said I, “ doubt all, but not my 
 will to assist you.” I said this truly, with great earnest¬ 
 ness. For had she commanded me to throw myself into 
 the sea for her, I should with joy have done so. To me, 
 it was as if I stood before a divinity. The soft sym¬ 
 metry of her form, and her countenance, which seemed 
 to belong to the unearthly, had likewise disembodied 
 my soul. Never had I seen grace and sublimity so 
 united. Hortensia’s face was, as I had before seen it, it 
 is true, only transiently or from a distance, pale, suffer¬ 
 ing, and gloomy; now it was quite different. An uncom¬ 
 mon delicate color was spread over it, like the reflection 
 from the rose. In all her features swam a light, such 
 as a human countenance, under ordinary circumstances, 
 could never obtain, either by nature or art. The expres¬ 
 sion of the whole was a solemn smile, and yet no smile, 
 but rather an inward delight. This extraordinary state 
 was justly called transfiguration by her companions; 
 but such a transfiguration, no painter in his moments 
 of inspiration, ever saw or imagined. Let one, there¬ 
 fore, figure to himself the statue-like position, the marble 
 stillness of the features, with the eyes closed as in sleep. 
 Never before had I felt such fearful delight. 
 
 “ Oh ! Emanuel!” said she, after a time, “ now is thy 
 will sincere. Now knows she, that through thee she 
 will be cured. Thy hair flows in golden flames; from 
 thy fingers flow silver rays of light; thou floatest in 
 heaven’s clear azure. How eager!v her whole being; 
 
372 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 imbibes this brilliancy—this health-bringing flood of 
 light.” 
 
 At this somewhat poetical form of speech, the drugs, 
 with which I had the melancholy honor of being com¬ 
 pared to a few days before, involuntarily recurred tome, 
 and I continued silent, taking no notice of the gold and 
 silver rays. 
 
 “Be not angry with her in thy thoughts, Emanuel,” 
 said Hortensia. “Be not angry that her weakness and 
 distempered wit compared thee with bitter remedies. 
 Be more generous than the thoughtless one, by suffer¬ 
 ing misled, and often by earthly weaknesses given up to 
 frenzy.” 
 
 At these words the doctor threw a smiling look on me 
 —I also toward the doctor, but with a gesture of aston¬ 
 ishment, not because the proud beauty humbled herself 
 to an apology, but that she appeared to have guessed my 
 thoughts. 
 
 “ Oh ! distract not thy attention, Emanuel!” said the 
 transfigured, quickly. “ Thou speakest with the doctor. 
 On her alone turn thy thoughts, and on her safety. It 
 distresses her when thy thoughts for one moment leave 
 her. Continue in the firm desire to penetrate her half- 
 dissolved being with the beneficial power of thy light. 
 Seest thou how powerful thy will is ? The stiffened 
 fibers relax and melt, like the winter’s frost in the sun’s 
 rays.” 
 
 While she spoke, her raised arm sank. Motion and 
 life animated her figure. She asked for a seat. The 
 doctor brought her one which stood in the chamber, 
 with richly embroidered green silk cushions. 
 
 “ Not that kind,” said she. After a while she con 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 373 
 
 tinued: “The arm-chair, with a striped linen cover, 
 which stands in Emanuel’s chamber, before his writing- 
 table. Bring it here, and leave it forever!” 
 
 I had, truly, but the moment before left the arm-chair 
 standing before the table. But the countess had never 
 seen my room. As I reached the key of the room to 
 one of the women, Hortensia said, “ Is that the key ? I 
 did not understand those dark spots. Thou hast in the 
 left pocket of thy vest, yet another key—put it away 
 from thee.” I did so. It was the key of my press. 
 
 So soon as the chair was brought, she seated herself 
 in it, apparently with great comfort. She commanded 
 me to stand near before her, with the ends of my fingers 
 toward the pit of her heart. 
 
 “ God! of what delight is the man capable !” said she. 
 “Emanuel, give her thy word, she entreats thee, not to 
 forsake her till the ruins of her mind have been re¬ 
 established—till her recovery is perfect. Shouldst thou 
 forsake her, she must die wretchedly. On thee haims 
 her life.” 
 
 I promised with delight and pride to be the protector 
 and guardian angel of so precious a life. 
 
 “ Also, regard it not,” continued she, “ if she, in the 
 state of earthly waking, mistakes thee. Pardon her— 
 she is an unfortunate, that knows not what she does. 
 All faults are the sicknesses of the mortal part, which 
 cripple the power of the spirit.” 
 
 She was talkative, and so far from being vexed by my 
 questions, she appeared to hear them with pleasure. I 
 expressed my astonishment at her extraordinary situa¬ 
 tion. Never had I heard that sickness made a person, 
 as it were, godlike; that she should, with closed eyes, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 374 
 
 perceive what she had never seen before, and what was 
 far distant from her, and even know the thoughts of 
 another! I must believe that her state, which, with 
 justice, might be compared to a transfiguration, was 
 the perfection of health. 
 
 After a minute’s silence, which was always the case 
 before she answered, she said, “ She is healthy like a 
 dying person, whose material is breaking asunder. She 
 is as healthy as she will be, when her humanity ceases, 
 and the earthly body of this lamp of eternal light falls 
 to pieces.” 
 
 “ The transfiguration,” said I, “ makes all dark to 
 me!” 
 
 “ Dark, Emanuel ? But thou wilt experience it. She 
 knows much, and yet can not express it; she sees much 
 clearly, much dimly, and yet can not name it. See- 
 man is combined from a variety of beings, which bind 
 and arrange themselves together, as round a single 
 point, and thereby he becomes man. So are all the 
 little parts of a flower held together, whereby it becomes 
 a flower. And as one part holds and binds the other, 
 so the other restrains it in turn ; no one is what it would 
 be by itself, since, only all can form man, and be other¬ 
 wise nothing. Nature is like an endless ocean of bright¬ 
 ness, in which single solid points are drawn together. 
 These are creatures. Or like an extensive shining 
 heaven, in which drops of light run together and form 
 stars. All that is in the world, has run together from 
 the dissolved chaos, which is everywhere and always 
 imbibing and then dissolving itself again in all, since 
 nothing can remain stati inary. So is man, out of the 
 manifold substances of the universe, grown around 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 with floating flowers. But in order that man may be, 
 more insignificant beings must place themselves around 
 him, which shall support his divine part. 
 
 “ The strange things or beings which are placed 
 around us, form the body. The body is only the shell 
 of the heavenly body. The heavenly body is called the 
 soul. The soul is but the veil of the Eternal. Now is 
 the earthly shell of the sick broken, therefore her light 
 flows out, her soul meets in union with all, from which 
 it was formerly separated by a healthy shell, and sees, 
 hears, and feels without it and within it. Then it is 
 not the body that feels ; the body is only the inanimate 
 casement of the soul. Without it, eyes, ears, and 
 tongue are like stones. Now, if the earthly shell of the 
 sick can not become healthy by thy aid, she will be 
 entirely broken and fall to pieces. She will no longer 
 belong to mankind, since she possesses nothing by 
 which she can communicate with them.” 
 
 She stopped. I listened as if she brought revelations 
 from another world. I understood nothing, and yet 
 divined what she thought. The count and physician 
 listened to her with equal astonishment. Both assured 
 me afterward, that Hortensia had never spoken so 
 clearly, connectedly, and supernaturally, as at this time ; 
 that her communications had been broken, and made 
 often under great suffering ; she frequently fell into the 
 most frightful convulsions, or would lie for many hours 
 in a torpid state; that she very rarely answered ques 
 t.ions, but now the conversation appeared not at all to 
 fatigue her. 
 
 I reminded her of her weakness, and inquired if talk¬ 
 ing so much did not exhaust her strength. ? She 
 
•176 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 declared, “Not in tlie least! She is well. She will 
 always be well, when thou art with her. In seven 
 minntes she will awaken. She will enjoy a quiet night. 
 But to-morrow afternoon, about three o’clock, her sleep 
 will return. Then fail not, Emanuel. Five minutes 
 before three the cramps will begin ; then, blessing her, 
 stretch thy hands toward her, with an earnest desire of 
 healing her. Five minutes before three, and by the 
 clock in thy chamber, not by thy watch, which is three 
 minutes different from the clock. Set thy watch exactly 
 by the clock, that the sick may not suffer by their dif¬ 
 ference.” 
 
 She also mentioned several trifling circumstances ; 
 ordered what they should give her to drink on awaken¬ 
 ing ; what for her supper; at what time she should go 
 to bed, and gave other similar directions. She was 
 then silent. The former death-like stillness reigned. 
 Her face gradually became paler, as it usually was ; 
 the animation of her countenance disappeared. She 
 now first appeared to wish to sleep, or actually to be 
 asleep. She no longer held herself upright, but sank 
 down carelessly, and nodded, as is usual with a person 
 sleeping. She then began to extend her arms and 
 stretch herself, yawned, rubbed her eyes, opened them, 
 and was almost in the same minute awake and cheer¬ 
 ful, as she had announced. 
 
 When she saw me she appeared surprised—she 
 looked around on the others. The women hastened to 
 her, also the count and doctor. 
 
 “ What do you want ?” she asked me, in a hard 
 tone. 
 
 “ Gracious lady, I wait your commands.” 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 377 
 
 “ Who are you ?” 
 
 “Faust, at your service.” 
 
 “ I am obliged to you for your good will, but desire 
 I may be left alone!” said she, somewhat vexed ; then 
 bowing proudly toward me, she arose and turned her 
 back on me. 
 
 I left the room with a singular mixture of feelings. 
 How immeasurably dilferent was the waking from the 
 sleeping person ! My gold and silver rays disappeared ; 
 also her confidential thou, which penetrated deep into 
 my innermost feelings—even the name of Emanuel, 
 with which she had enriched me, was no longer of 
 value. 
 
 Musingly, I entered my chamber, like one who had 
 been reading fairy tales, and became so absorbed in 
 them that he holds the enchantment for reality. The 
 arm-chair before my writing-table was wanting. I 
 placed another, and wrote down the wonderful tale, as 
 I had experienced it, and as much of Ilortensia’s con¬ 
 versation as I recollected, since I feared that I might 
 not hereafter believe it myself, if I had it not written 
 before me. I had promised to pardon all the harshness 
 the might use toward me while awake—willingly did I 
 forgive her. But she was so beautiful ! I could not 
 have borne it with indifference. 
 
 A SECOND TRANSFIGURATION. 
 
 The next day the count visited me in my room to 
 inform me of the quiet night Hortensia ha j enjoyed, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 378 
 
 and also that she was stronger and more animated 
 than she had been for a long time. At breakfast, I 
 told her,” said he, all that had passed yesterday. 
 She shook her head, and would not believe me, or 
 otherwise she said she must have paroxysms of delirium, 
 and began to weep. I quieted her. I told her that, 
 without doubt, her restoration to health was near, since 
 in you. dear Faust, there certainly dwells some divine 
 power, of which hitherto you have probably been un¬ 
 conscious. I begged her to receive you into her society 
 during her waking hours, since I promised myself much 
 from your presence, but could not move her to consent. 
 She asserted that your sight was insupportable to her, 
 and that only by degrees could she perhaps accustom 
 herself to your appearance. What can we do ? She 
 can not be forced to any thing, without placing her 
 life in danger.” 
 
 Thus he spoke, and sought in every way to excuse 
 Hortensia to me. He showed me, as if in contrast to 
 Hortensia’s offensive antipathy, self-will, and pride, the 
 most moving confidence ; spoke of his family circum¬ 
 stances, of his possessions, law-suits, and other disagree¬ 
 able circumstances ; desired my counsel, and promised 
 to lay all his papers before me, in order that my opinion 
 of his affairs might be more precise. He did so, that 
 same day. Initiated in all, even his most secret con¬ 
 cerns, I became every day more intimate with him ; 
 his friendship appeared to increase in proportion as the 
 antipathy which his daughter had taken to me aug¬ 
 mented. At length I conducted all his correspondence 
 —had also the management of his income, and the 
 government of his household—so that, in short, 1 be- 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 379 
 
 came every thing to him. Convinced of my honesty and 
 good-will, he depended on me with unlimited confi¬ 
 dence, and only seemed discontented when he perceived, 
 that with the exception of mere necessaries, I desired 
 nothing for myself, and constantly refused all his rich 
 presents. Dr. Walter and all the domestics, as well 
 male as female, soon remarked what extraordinary 
 influence I had, as suddenly as unexpectedly, attained. 
 They surrounded me with attentions and flattery. This 
 unmerited and general good-will made me very happy, 
 though I would willingly have exchanged it all for mere 
 friendship from the inimitable countess. She, however, 
 remained unpropitiated. Her antipathy appeared al¬ 
 most to degenerate into hate. She cautioned her father 
 against me, as against a cunning adventurer and 
 impostor. With her women she called me only the 
 vagabond, who had nestled himself in her father’s con¬ 
 fidence. The old count, at last, scarce dared to mention 
 me in her presence. But I will not anticipate the 
 history and course of events. 
 
 My watch was regulated. It was really three minutes 
 different from the clock. Five minutes before three 
 in the afternoon, neither sooner nor later, I entered, 
 unannounced, Ilortensia’s room. The witnesses of 
 the day before were present. She sat on a sofa, in a 
 thoughtful position, but with her own peculiar grace, 
 pale and suffering. As she perceived me, she threw a 
 proud, contemptuous look on me, rose hastily, and 
 cried, “ Who gave you permission—without being an¬ 
 nounced-” 
 
 A violent shriek and fierce convulsions stopped her 
 voice. She sank into the arms of her women. The 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 580 
 
 chair which she had desired the day before was brought 
 to her. Scarcely was she seated in it than she began 
 in the .most frightful manner, and with incredible veloc¬ 
 ity, to strike herself, both on the body and head, with 
 her clenched fist. I could scarcely support the horrible 
 spectacle. Tremblingly, I took the position which she 
 had prescribed the day before, and directed the finger- 
 ends of both my hands toward her. But she, with eyes 
 convulsively distorted and fixed, seized them, and thrust 
 the fingers with violence many times against her person. 
 She soon became more tranquil, closed her eyes, and 
 after she had given some deep sighs, appeared to sleep. 
 Her countenance betrayed pain. She fretted softly for 
 some time. But soon the pain appeared to subside. 
 She now sighed twice, but gently. Her countenance 
 gradually became clearer, and soon again resumed the 
 expression of internal blessedness, while the paleness of 
 her face was overspread by a soft color. 
 
 After some minutes, she said, “ Thou, true friend! 
 without thee what would become of me ?” She spoke 
 these words with a solemn tenderness, with which 
 angels alone might greet each other. Her tones vi¬ 
 brated on all my nerves. 
 
 “ Are you well, gracious lady ?” said I, almost in a 
 whisper—since I yet feared she might show me the 
 door. 
 
 “ Very, oh ! very, Emanuel!” answered she, “ as well 
 as yesterday, and even more so. It seems thy will is 
 more decided, and thy power to assist her increased. 
 She breathes—she swims in the shining circle which 
 surrounds thee: her being, penetrated by thine, is in 
 thee dissolved. Could she be ever so !” 
 
APPKNDIX. 
 
 381 
 
 To us prosaical listeners, this manner of rpeaking 
 was very unintelligible, though to me in no way ;.npleas- 
 ing. I legretted only that Hortensia thought not of 
 me, but of an Emanuel, and probably deceived herself. 
 Yet I received some comfort, when I afterward learned 
 from the count, that to his knowledge none of his rela¬ 
 tions or acquaintances bore the name of Emanuel. 
 
 Her father asked her some questions, but she did not 
 hear them—as she began in the midst of one of them 
 to speak to me. He approached nearer to her. When 
 he stood by me, she became more attentive. 
 
 “ How, dear father, art thou here ?” said she. She 
 now answered his questions. I asked her why she had 
 not observed him sooner. 
 
 She replied, “ He stood in the dark—only near thee 
 is it light. Thou also shinest, father, but weaker than 
 Emanuel, but only by reflection from him.” 
 
 I then said to her that there were yet more persons in 
 the room; she made a long pause, then named them all, 
 even the places where they were. Her eyes were con¬ 
 stantly closed, yet she could denote what passed behind 
 her. Yes, she even remarked the number of persons 
 who were passing in a gondola in the canal before the 
 house, and it was correct. 
 
 “ But how is it possible that you can know this, since 
 you do not see them ?” said I. 
 
 “ Did she not declare to you yesterday that she was 
 sick? That it is not the body which discerns the outer 
 world, but the soul. Flesh, blood, and the frame of 
 bones is only the shell which surrounds the noble 
 kernel. The shell is now torn, and its vital power 
 would repair the defects, but can not without assistance. 
 
3S2 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Therefore the spirit calls for thee. The soul, flowing 
 out and searching in the universe, finds thee, aud fulfills 
 its duty with thy power. When her earthly waking 
 comes, she sees, she hears, and feels more quickly and 
 acutely; but only that which is external and near—that 
 which approaches her. Now, however, she meets 
 things whether she will or not; she touches not, but 
 penetrates; she guesses not, but knows. In dreams 
 thou goest to the objects, not they to thee ; and thou 
 knowest them, and wherefore they so act. Even now, it 
 is to her like a dream ; nevertheless, she knows well 
 that she is awake, but her body wakes not; the outward 
 senses do not assist her.” 
 
 She next spoke much of her sickness, of her sleep¬ 
 waking, of a long fainting fit, in which she once laid— 
 what had passed within her, and what she had thought 
 while those around wept her as dead. The count 
 heard her with astonishment, since, besides many cir¬ 
 cumstances of which he was ignorant, she touched upon 
 others which had occurred during her ten hours’ stupor, 
 of which no one but himself could have known; for 
 example, how he had in despair left her, gone into his 
 chamber, fallen on his knees, and prayed in hopeless 
 agony. He had never mentioned this, and no one 
 could have seen him, since not only at the time had 
 he fastened the door, but it was also night, and his 
 chamber without a light. How, that Hortensia spoke 
 of it, he did not deny it. It was incomprehensible how 
 she could have known it in her fainting fit, and yet 
 more so that she could recollect it at this time, as the 
 incident had occurred in her early childhood. She 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 383 
 
 could scarcely have been more than eight years old at 
 the time. 
 
 It was also remarkable that she always spoke of her¬ 
 self in the third person, as of a stranger, when she re¬ 
 lated her own history, or spoke of herself, as she stood 
 in the civil and social relations. Once she said expli¬ 
 citly, “ I am no countess, but she is a countess !” An¬ 
 other time, “ I am not the daughter of Count Ilor- 
 megg, but she is.” 
 
 As her whole exterior appeared in a floating trans¬ 
 figuration, more quiet, more exalted, more beautiful 
 than usual, so was her voice a language in conformity 
 to it. It was, though as soft and clear, yet more solemn 
 than in common life ; every expression was chosen, and 
 sometimes even poetical. There was frequently a 
 singular obscurity in her words—often an apparent 
 total want of connection, occasioned partly because she 
 spoke of things, or observed them in a point of view 
 foreign to us. She, however, spoke willingly, and with 
 pleasure, particularly when questioned by me. Some¬ 
 times she was in a long and quiet reflection, during 
 which one might read in her features the expression, 
 sometimes of a discontented, sometimes a contented 
 research, astonishment, admiration, or delight. She 
 interrupted this deep silence, from time to time, with 
 single exclamations, when she lisped “ Holy God !” 
 
 Once she began of herself: “ Now is the world 
 changed. It is one great One, and that eternal one is 
 a spiritual one. There is no difference between body 
 and spirit, since all is spirit, and all can become body, 
 when they associate together, so that they may feel as a 
 single one. The all (or the component parts) is as if 
 
384 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 formed from the purest ether; the all, acting and mov* 
 ing; transforming itself; since all will unite ; and the 
 one counterbalances the other. It is an eternal ferment¬ 
 ation of life, an eternal vibration between too much 
 and too little. Seest thou how clouds move in the 
 clearest heaven ? They float and swell, till the mass is 
 f iled ; then, attracted by the earth, they penetrate it in 
 the form of life or rain. Seest thou the flower? A 
 spark of life has fallen in the midst of a throng of other 
 powers ; it unites itself with all that may be of service 
 to it, forms them, and the germ becomes a plant, until 
 the inferior powers overgrow and dislodge the original 
 power. And as the spark is expelled, they fall asunder, 
 since nothing any longer binds them together. She is 
 the formation and decay of man.” 
 
 She said yet much more, wholly unintelligible to me. 
 Her transfiguration ended like the first. She again 
 announced the period of her earthly waking, likewise 
 the occurrence of a similar state the next day. She 
 dismissed me with the same dark looks as on the first 
 day, as soon as she opened her eyes. 
 
 SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY. 
 
 Thus it continued, always in the same way, for some 
 months. Her extraordinary indisposition experienced 
 only insignificant changes, from which I could neither 
 affirm that they denoted improvement or the contrary. 
 For, if she suffered less from cramps and convulsions— 
 and while awake there was not the slightest trace of 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 385 
 
 uncomfortable feeling, except extreme irritability—her 
 unnatural sleep and transfiguration returned more 
 frequently, so that I was often called two or three times 
 in a day. 
 
 I became thus completely the slave of the house. I 
 dared not absent myself even for a few hours. Any 
 neglect might cause serious danger. How willingly did 
 I bear the yoke of slavery ! I never faltered. My 
 soul trembled with joy, when the moment allotted to 
 the beautiful miracle came. Each day adorned her 
 with higher charms. Had I but for one hour seen and 
 heard her, I had sufficient remembrance to banquet on 
 for a long time in my solitude. Oh ! the intoxication 
 of first love. 
 
 Yes, I deny it not, it was love; but 1 may truly 
 say, not earthly, but celestial love. My whole being 
 was in a new manner bound to this Delphic priestess, 
 by an awe in which even the hope died of ever being 
 worthy of her most insignificant looks. Could the 
 countess have endured me without disgust, even as the 
 most unimportant of her attendants, I should have 
 thought that heaven could have offered no higher 
 happiness. But, as in her transfigured state, her kind¬ 
 ness toward me seemed to increase, even so did her 
 aversion, as soon as, when waking, she saw me. This 
 dislike grew at last into the bitterest abhorrence. She 
 declared this on every occasion, and always in the most 
 irritating manner. She daily entreated her father, and 
 always more harshly, to send me from the house ; she 
 conjured him with tears; she affirmed that I could con¬ 
 tribute nothing to her recovery ; and were it so, all the 
 good I could effect during her unconscious state was 
 17 
 
386 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 again destroyed by the vexation my presence caused 
 her. She despised me as a common vagabond, as a man 
 of low origin, who should not be allowed to breathe the 
 same air with her—to say nothing of so intimate con¬ 
 nection with her, or the enjoyment of such great confi¬ 
 dence from Count Hormegg. 
 
 It is well known that women, particularly the hand¬ 
 some, indulged and self-willed, have humors, and con¬ 
 sider it not unbecoming if they sometimes or always 
 are a little inconsistent with themselves. But never in 
 any mortal could more contradiction be found, than in 
 the beautiful Ilortensia. What she, waking, thought, 
 said, or did, she contradicted in the moments of her 
 trance. She entreated the count not to regard what 
 she might advance against me. She asserted that an 
 increase of her illness would be the inevitable conse¬ 
 quence of my leaving the house, and would end in her 
 death. She entreated me not to regard her humors, 
 but generously to pardon her foolish behavior, and to 
 live under the conviction that she would certainly 
 improve in her conduct toward me as her disease 
 abated. 
 
 I was, in fact, as much astonished as the others at 
 Ilortensia’s extraordinary inclination to me during her 
 transfigured state. She seemed, as it were, only through 
 me, and in me, to live. She guessed, indeed, she knew 
 my thoughts—especially when they had any relation 
 to her. It was unnecessary to express my little instruc¬ 
 tions ; she executed them. However incredible it may 
 be, it is not the less true, that she, with her hands, 
 followed all the movements of mine in every direction. 
 She declared that it was scarcely any longer necessary 
 
API'ENDIX. 
 
 387 
 
 to stretch out my hands toward her, as at the commence¬ 
 ment ; my presence, my breath, my mere will sufficed 
 to her well-being. She refused, with scorn, to taste any 
 wine or water that I had not, as she said, consecrated 
 by laying my hands on, and made healthful by the light 
 streaming from the ends of my fingers. She went so 
 far as to declare my slightest wishes to be her irresisti¬ 
 ble commands. 
 
 “ She has no longer any free will,” said she, one day. 
 “ So soon as she knows thy will, Emanuel, she is con¬ 
 strained so to will. Thy thoughts govern her with a 
 supernatural power. And precisely in this obedience, 
 she feels her good, her blessedness. She can not act 
 contrary. So soon as she ascertains thy thoughts, they 
 become her thoughts and laws.” 
 
 “But how is this perception of my thoughts possi¬ 
 ble, dearest countess ?” said I. “ I can not deny that 
 you often discern the most secret depths of my soul. 
 What a singular sickness—which seems to make you 
 omniscient! Who would not wish for himself this 
 state of imperfection?” 
 
 “It is so also with her,” said she. “Deceive not 
 thyself, Emanuel; she is very imperfect, since she has 
 lost the greater part of her individuality ; she has lost it 
 in thee. Shouldst thou die to-day, thy last breath 
 would be her last. Thy serenity is her serenity — thy 
 sorrow her sorrow.” 
 
 “ Can you not explain to me the miracle that causes 
 in me the greatest astonishment, and, notwithstanding 
 all my reflections, remains inexplicable ?” 
 
 She was long silent. After about ten minutes she 
 said : “ No, she can not explain it. Come not persons 
 
3S8 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 before tliee in dreams, whose thoughts thou seemest 
 to think at the same moment with themselves? So it 
 is with her; and yet to the sick one it exists clearly; 
 she is conscious that she is awake. Truly,” continued 
 she, “ her spiritual part is always the same; hut that 
 which united the spirit to the body is no longer the 
 same. Her shell is wounded in that part with which 
 the soul is first and most intimately connected; her 
 life flows out and becomes weaker, and does not allow 
 itself to be bound. Hadst thou not been found, 
 Emanuel, the sick would already have been released. 
 As an uprooted plant, whose powers evaporating, re¬ 
 ceives no sustenance, if its roots are again laid in fresh 
 soil, will imbibe new life from the earth, put forth 
 branches and become green—thus is it with the sick. 
 Soul and life in the all flowing way, finds nourishment 
 in thy life's fullness; forces new roots in thy being, and 
 is restored to thee. She is an extinguished light in a 
 broken vessel; but the dried wick of life nourishes 
 itself again in the oil of thy lamp. Thus the sick, 
 now spiritually rooted in thee, exists from the same 
 powers as thou, therefore has she pleasure and pain, 
 will, and even thought, as thou hast. Thou art her 
 life, Emanuel.” 
 
 ^Neither the women nor the doctor could refrain from 
 smiles at this tender declaration of the petulant count¬ 
 ess. On the same day, the count said to me:— 
 
 “Will you not for a jest make the strongest essay of 
 your power over Hortensia ?” 
 
 “ And how ?” replied I. 
 
 “ Desire, as a proof of her obedience, that Hortensia 
 shall have you called, when she is awake, and volun- 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 389 
 
 tarilj give you, as a present, the most beautiful of the 
 roses which are blooming in her vases.” 
 
 “ It is too much; it would be indiscreet. You 
 know, count, what an unconquerable aversion she has 
 to poor Faust, as much even as she appears to have 
 regard for Emanuel.” 
 
 “ Even for that reason I entreat you to make the 
 trial, were it only to discover whether your will is 
 powerful enough to have effect out of the state of 
 transfiguration, and in the waking usual life. ISTo one 
 shall tell her what you have wished. Therefore, it 
 shall be arranged that no person except you and my¬ 
 self shall be present when you express the wish.” 
 
 I promised to obey—though, I confess, rather un¬ 
 willingly. 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 
 When I went to her the following morning, as she 
 lay in the slumber which usually preceded her trans¬ 
 figuration—and I never showed myself earlier—I found 
 the count there alone. He reminded me by a look, 
 and with laughing eyes, of the agreement the day 
 before. 
 
 Hortensia passed into her transfigured waking state, 
 and immediately commenced a friendly conversation. 
 She assured us that her sickness had almost reached the 
 turning point, when it would gradually diminish; this 
 would be known by her having less clear perceptions in 
 her sleep. I became more embarrassed the more the 
 count motioned to me to bring forward my experiment. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 390 
 
 In order to divert or encourage myself, I went 
 silently through the room to the window where Ilor- 
 tensia’s flowers bloomed, and with my fingers played 
 with the branches of a rose-bush. Inadvertently, I 
 stuck a thorn rather deep into the end of my middle 
 finger. 
 
 Hortensia gave a loud cry. I hurried to her; the 
 count likewise. She complained of a violent prick in 
 the point of the middle finger of her right hand. The 
 appearance of her finger belonged to the witchcrafts, to 
 which, since my intercourse with her, I had been accus¬ 
 tomed. In fact, I thought I could remark a scarcely 
 visible blue spot; the next day, however, a small sore 
 developed itself, and likewise on my finger, only mine 
 was sooner healed. 
 
 “ It is my fault, Emanuel,” said she, after the lapse 
 of a few minutes; “thou hast wounded thyself with 
 the rose-bush. Take care of thyself—what befalls 
 thee happens also to me.” 
 
 She was silent. I also. My thoughts were how I 
 should bring forward my proposition. The wounding 
 appeared the fittest occasion. The count motioned me 
 to take courage. 
 
 “ Wherefore dost thou not speak out ?” said Horten- 
 sia; “ ask that she should have you called at twelve 
 o’clock to-day, before she goes to eat, and present you 
 with a new-blown rose.” 
 
 With amazement I heard my wish from her lips* 
 “ I feared to offend you bv my boldness!” said I. 
 
 “ Oh ! Emanuel, she well knows that her father him¬ 
 self suggested the wish !” replied she, smiling. 
 
 “ It is, likewise, my ardent wish!” stammered L 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 391 
 
 “ But will you, at twelve, when awake, remember 
 it?” 
 
 “ Can she do otherwise ?” she replied, with a good- 
 lmmored smile. 
 
 As the conversation on this subject ended, the count 
 went out and brought in the women and the doctor, 
 who were waiting without. After about half an hour, 
 I, as usual, so soon as the transfigured was lost in a real 
 sleep, absented myself. It might have been about ten 
 o’clock. 
 
 Upon waking, Hortensia showed the doctor her pain¬ 
 ful finger. She believed that she had wounded herself 
 with the point of a needle, and wa3 astonished not to 
 find some outward injury. 
 
 About eleven she became restless, walked up and 
 down her room, sought out all sorts of things, began to 
 speak of me to the women, or rather, after her usual 
 habit, to pour on me the fullness of her anger, and to 
 attack her father with reproaches that he had not yet 
 dismissed me. 
 
 “ This obtrusive man is not worth my spending so 
 many tears and words about. I know not what forces 
 me to think of him, and to embitter every hour with 
 the hated thought. It is already too much that I know 
 him to be under the same roof, and that I know how 
 much you esteem him, dear father. I could swear the 
 wicked man has bewitched me. Therefore, take care, 
 dear father, I certainly do not deceive myself. You 
 will have cause, one day, bitterly to repent your good 
 nature. He will deceive you and all of us some day.” 
 
 “ I entreat you, my child,” said the count, k ‘ do not 
 be forever vexing and fatiguing yourself with speaking 
 
302 
 
 APPENlJIX. 
 
 of him. You do not know him ; you have only soon 
 him twice, and hut transiently. Plow can you then 
 pronounce a condemnatory judgment upon him ? Wait 
 till I surprise him in some false act. In the mean 
 while, do you be tranquil. It is sufficient that he dare 
 not appear in your presence.” 
 
 Hortensia was silent. She spoke with the women 
 on other subjects. They asked her if she was not well; 
 she knew not what to answer. She began to weep. 
 They endeavored in vain to discover the cause of her 
 grief and melancholy. She concealed her face in the 
 cushion on the sofa, and begged of her father as well as 
 her women, to leave her alone. 
 
 A quarter before twelve they heard her ring. She 
 directed the woman, who answered her summons, to say 
 to me, that I should come there as soon as the clock 
 struck twelve. 
 
 Notwithstanding I anxiously expected this invitation, 
 it caused me great surprise. In part from the extraor¬ 
 dinary fact itself, and in part from fright, I was as much 
 perplexed as embarrassed. I went many times before 
 my glass, in order to see if I really had a face made to 
 awaken horror. But—it struck twelve. With a beat¬ 
 ing heart, I went and heard myself announced to xior- 
 tensia. I was admitted. 
 
 She sat negligently on the sofa; her beautiful head, 
 shaded with her raven locks, rested on her soft white 
 arm. She reluctantly arose as I entered. With a weak, 
 uncertain voice, and a look which implored her mercy, 
 I declared myself there to hear her commands. 
 
 Hortensia did not answer. She came slowly and 
 thoughtfully toward me, as if she sought for words. At 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 393 
 
 last she remained standing before me, threw a contempt¬ 
 uous side look at me, and said :— 
 
 “Mr. Faust, it seems to me that it is I who should 
 entreat, in order to induce you to leave the house and 
 train of my father.” 
 
 “ Countess,” said I, and the manly pride was a little 
 roused in me, “ I have forced myself neither on you nor 
 the count. You yourself know on what grounds your 
 father entreated me to remain in his company. I did 
 so unwillingly ; but the heartfelt kindness of the count, 
 and the hope of being useful to you, prevents my obey- 
 ing your expressed command, however it may distress 
 me to displease you.” 
 
 She turned her back on me, and played with a little 
 pair of scissors near a rose-bush at the window. Sud¬ 
 denly she cut the last-blown rose off-—it was beautiful, 
 although simple—she reached it to me, and said, “ Take 
 the best which I have now at hand: I give it to you as 
 a reward for having hitherto avoided me. Never come 
 again!” 
 
 She spoke this so quickly, and with such visible em¬ 
 barrassment, that I scarcely understood it; she then 
 threw herself again on the sofa, and as I wished to 
 answer, she motioned to me hastily, with her face 
 turned, to go away. I obeyed. 
 
 Even at the moment I left her, I had already forgot¬ 
 ten all injuries. I flew to my room. Not the angry, 
 but only the suffering Ilortensia, in all her tender inno 
 cence swept before me. The rose came from her hand 
 like a jewel, whose infinite worth all the crowns in the 
 world could not outweigh. I pressed the flower to my 
 lips—I lamented its perishable nature. I thought how 
 17 * 
 
394 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 I should most securely preserve it—to me tlie most pre¬ 
 cious of all my possessious. I opened it carefully, and 
 dried it between the leaves of a book, then had it in¬ 
 closed between two round crystal glasses, surrounded 
 with a gold band, so that I could wear it like an amu¬ 
 let to a gold chain round my neck. 
 
 THE BILL OF EXCHANGE. 
 
 In the mean time this event was the cause of much 
 discomfort to me. Hortensia’s hate of me spoke out 
 more decidedly than ever. Her father, entirely too 
 gentle, made my defense in vain. His conviction that 
 I was an honest man, as well as my usefulness in the 
 common affairs of his house, and his firm belief that I 
 was indispensable to the saving of his daughter, were 
 sufficient to render him for a long time deaf to all the 
 whisperings which aimed at my downfall. In a short 
 time, he was the only one in the house that honored me 
 with a friendly word or look. I remarked, that gradu¬ 
 ally the women, Dr. Walter himself, and at last the 
 lowest servant of the family, kept shyly at a distance, 
 and treated me with a marked coldness. I learnt from 
 the true-hearted Sebald, who remained devoted to me, 
 that my expulsion was aimed at, and that the countess 
 had sworn to turn any one out of her service who dared 
 to have any kind of intercourse with me. Her com¬ 
 mand was so much the more effectual, as, from the phy¬ 
 sician and steward to the lowest servant in the house, 
 each one considered himself lucky to be a domestic in 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 395 
 
 so rich a house; and while they only considered me aa 
 one of their equals, they envied me my unlimited credit 
 with the count. 
 
 Such a situation must of course become unpleasing 
 to me. I lived in Venice, in one of the most brilliant 
 houses, more solitary than in a wilderness, without a 
 friend or familiar acquaintance. I knew my steps 
 and motions were watched; nevertheless I endured it 
 with patience. The noble count suffered no less than 
 myself from Ilortensia’s caprices. lie often sought 
 comfort near me. I was the most eloquent advocate for 
 my beautiful persecutor, who treated me during her 
 transfigurations with as much kindness, I might almost 
 say tenderness, as she vexed me, when out of this state, 
 with the effects of her hatred and pride. It seemed as 
 if she were governed alternately by two inimical 
 demons: the one an angel of light, the other of dark¬ 
 ness. At last even the old count began to watch me and 
 became more reserved; the situation was insupportable 
 to me. I had only lately perceived how he was tor¬ 
 mented on all sides; how particularly Dr. Walter sought 
 to shake his confidence in me, by many repeated little 
 malicious remarks; and what a deep impression a 
 reproach of Hortensia’s once made, when she said: 
 “ Have we all made ourselves dependent on this un- 
 Known man ? They say my life is in his power; well, 
 pay him for his trouble; more he does not merit. 
 But he is also to be a participator in our family 
 secrets. We are, in our most important affairs, in his 
 charge; so that, were I even in health, we could 
 scarcely, without disadvantage, send him away. Who 
 is surety for his secrecy? Ilis apparent disinterest!d- 
 
390 
 
 API’KNDIX. 
 
 ness, his honorable appearance, will one day cost us 
 much. The Count Hormegg will be the slave of his 
 servant, and a stranger, by his cunning, become the 
 tyrant of us all. This common fellow is not only the 
 confidant of the count, whose race is related to princely 
 houses, but the all-doer and head of the family.” 
 
 In order still more to revolt the pride of the count, 
 the subordinates appeared to have conspired together to 
 fulfill his commands with a certain reluctance and 
 doubt, as if they were afraid of displeasing me. Some 
 carried this artful boldness so far as to express openly 
 the question, whether the command he gave had also 
 my consent. This acted upon the count so much, little 
 by little, that he became mistrustful of himself, and 
 believed that he had overstepped the limits of prudence. 
 
 I remarked it, however much he endeavored to con¬ 
 ceal his change of mind. This vexed me. I had never 
 forced myself into a knowledge of his circumstances ; 
 he had imparted them to me by degrees, craved my 
 counsel, followed it, and always gained by it. He had 
 voluntarily charged me with the whole care of the 
 receipts and expenditures of his income; it was by me, 
 from the state of the greatest confusion, placed in such 
 clearness, that he confessed he never had such an insight 
 into his household affairs. He was now in a situation 
 to make suitable arrangements both of his money and 
 estates. By my advice he had terminated two old per¬ 
 plexed family lawsuits, whose end was not to be seen, 
 by an amicable agreement, and by this compact gained 
 more immediate advantage than he himself hoped to 
 have won, if he had succeeded in his suit. Many times 
 had he, in the excess of his gratitude of friendship, 
 
APPENDIX. 397 
 
 wished to force considerable presents on me, but I had 
 always refused them. 
 
 For some weeks I endured to be hated and mistaken 
 by all. My pride at last revolted. I longed to get out 
 of this unpleasant situation, to which no one ar.y longer 
 tried to reconcile me. Hortensia, even she, who was 
 the author of all the mischief, was the only one who, in 
 her transtigurations, warned me incessantly not to regard 
 any thing she might undertake against me in her wak¬ 
 ing hours. She would despise herself for it; she coaxed 
 me with the most flattering speeches, as if she would in 
 these moments requite me for all the torments which 
 she immediately after, with redoubled eagerness, would 
 cause me. 
 
 Count Hormegg had called me one afternoon to his 
 cabinet. He desired me to give him the steward’s book, 
 and also a bill of exchange, lately received, for two thou¬ 
 sand louis-d’ors, which sum, he said, he wished to place 
 in the Bank of Venice, since his residence in Italy would 
 be continued for the year. I took the opportunity to 
 beg him to confide to another the whole of the business 
 with which he had charged me, since I was determined, 
 so soon as the health of the countess would permit, to 
 leave his house and Venice. Notwithstanding he re¬ 
 marked the irritability with which I spoke, he said 
 nothing, except requesting me not to neglect his daugh¬ 
 ter and her care; but as to what regarded the other 
 affairs, he would wdllingly disburden me from them. 
 
 This was sufficient. I saw he wished to make me 
 unnecessary to him. I went, out of humor, to my room, 
 and took all the papers, as well those which he had not 
 demanded as those which he ha.l — but I could not find 
 
398 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 the bill of exchange; I must have mislaid it among 
 some papers. I had a dim recollection that it was in¬ 
 closed by me in a particular paper, and with some other 
 things put on one side. My search was in vain. The 
 count, hitherto accustomed to see his wishes executed 
 with the greatest promptitude by me, would certainly 
 be surprised that I this time delayed. The next morn¬ 
 ing he reminded me of it again. 
 
 “ Probably you have forgotten,” said he, “ that I 
 asked you yesterday for the steward’s book, and the bill 
 of exchange.” I promised to give them to him at mid¬ 
 day. I looked through the writings, leaf by leaf, in vain. 
 Midday came; I had not found the bewitching bill of 
 exchange. I excused myself with the count, that I must 
 have mislaid a couple of sheets, which hitherto had not 
 happened to me ; probably in my anxious hasty search, 
 I had either overlooked some or taken the papers for 
 others, and placed them away. I asked for a delay the 
 next day, since they could not be lost, but only mislaid. 
 The count made, it is true, a discontented face, but yet 
 replied, “ There is time enough ! Do not hurry your¬ 
 self.” 
 
 What time I could spare, I employed in searching. 
 It lasted till night. The following morning I com¬ 
 menced anew. My anxiety increased. I must at last 
 believe that the bill was lost, stolen, or perhaps, in a 
 moment ot absence, employed by myself as useless 
 paper. Except my servant, who could neither read nor 
 write, and who never had the key to my sitting-room, no 
 person entered those apartments. The fellow asserted 
 that he never allowed any one to enter while he was 
 cleaning the room, still less had he ever touched a paper 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 399 
 
 Except the count, no stranger came to me, since, from 
 mj retired life, I had made no acquaintance in Venice. 
 My embarrassment rose to the highest pitch. 
 
 TIIE 8INGULAR TREACHERY. 
 
 The same morning, as I went to the countess to 
 remain near her during her transfiguration, and render 
 her, in this state, the accustomed service, I thought I 
 remarked in the countenance of the count a cold seri¬ 
 ousness, which spoke more than words. The thought 
 that he suspected my honesty and truth increased my 
 disquiet. I walked before the sleeping Hortensia, and 
 at the same moment it struck me, that perhaps by her 
 wonderful gift of sight, she might inform me where the 
 papers were. It was indeed painful to me to confess, 
 before Dr. Walter and the women, the charge of 
 neglect or disorder. 
 
 While I was yet struggling with myself, what I should 
 do, the countess complained of the unsupportable cold¬ 
 ness which blew from me toward her, and which would 
 cause her sufferings if it did not change. 
 
 “ Thou art pained by some disquiet. Thy thoughts, 
 thy will, are not with her,” said she. 
 
 “Dear countess,” replied I, “ it is no wonder. Per¬ 
 haps it is in your power, from your peculiarity of being 
 able to discover what is most concealed, to restore me 
 again my peace. I have lost among my papers a bil» 
 of exchange, which belongs to your father.” 
 
400 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The Count Hormegg wrinkled his brow. Dr. Wal¬ 
 ter cried: “ I beg you, do not trouble the countess, in 
 this situation, with such things.” 
 
 I was silent; but Hortensia appeared thoughtful, and 
 said, after some time, “ Thou, Emanuel, hast not lost 
 the bill; it was taken from thee! Take this key, open 
 the closet there in the wall. In my jewel casket lies 
 the bill.” 
 
 She drew out a little golden key, reached it to me, 
 and pointed with her hand to the closet. I hurried 
 there. One of the women, called Elenora, sprang be¬ 
 fore the closet and wished to prevent the opening of it. 
 “ Your lordship,” cried she, anxiously, to the count, 
 “ will not allow any man to rummage among the effects 
 of the countess.” Ere she had yet ended the words, 
 she was with a strong arm pushed away by me; the 
 closet opened, the casket likewise, and behold the be¬ 
 witched bill of exchange lay there on the top. I went 
 with a face shining with joy to the old count, who was 
 speechless and motionless from astonishment. “ Of the 
 rest, I shall have the honor of speaking to you hereaf¬ 
 ter,” said I to the count, and went back with a light 
 heart to Hortensia, to whom I gave back the key. 
 
 “ How thou art metamorphosed, Emanuel,” cried she, 
 with a countenance of delight. “ Thou art become a 
 sun—thou flo a test in a sea of rays.” 
 
 The count called to me in violent emotion: “ Com¬ 
 mand the countess, in my name, to say how she car tie 
 by these papers.” 
 
 I obeyed. Elenora sank down fainting on a chair. 
 Dr. AValter hurried to her, and was in the act of lead¬ 
 ing her from the room as Hortensia began to speak. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 401 
 
 The count commanded, in an unusually severe tone, 
 silence and quiet. No one dared to move. 
 
 “ Out of hate, beloved Emanuel, the sick had the bill 
 taken. She foresaw, maliciously, the difficulty, and 
 hoped to induce thy flight. But it would not have 
 happened, since Sebald stood in a corner of the corri¬ 
 dor, while Dr. Walter, with a double key, went in thy 
 chamber, took the bill, which thou hadst put in some let¬ 
 ters from Hungary, and gave it on going out to Elenora. 
 Sebald would have betrayed it all, so soon as it was 
 known that some papers of importance had been lost. 
 Dr. Walter, who had seen the bill of exchange with 
 thee, made the proposition to the sick to purloin it. 
 Elenora offered her assistance. The sick herself encour¬ 
 aged them to do so, and could scarcely wait for the time 
 when the papers could be brought to her.” 
 
 During these words, Dr. Walter stood quite beside 
 himself, leaning on Elenora’s chair; his countenance 
 betrayed uneasiness; and, shrugging his shoulders, he 
 looked toward the count, and said: “ From this, one 
 may learn that the gracious countess may also speak 
 erroneously. Wait for her awaking, and she will ex¬ 
 plain herself better how the papers came into her 
 hands.” 
 
 The count made no answer, but calling to a servant, 
 ordered him to bring old Sebald. When he came, he 
 was asked whether he had ever seen Dr. Walter during 
 my absence go into my room. 
 
 “ Whether in the absence of Mr. Faust, I know not, 
 but it may well have been so last Sunday evening, since 
 he at least unlocked the door. Miss Ellen must know 
 better than I, as she remained standing on the stairs 
 
102 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 until the doctor 3ame back and gave her some notes, 
 whereupon they talked softly together, and then sepa¬ 
 rated.” 
 
 Sebald was now permitted to go; and the doctor, 
 with the half-fainting Elenora, were obliged, on a mo¬ 
 tion from the count, to depart. Ilortensia appeared 
 more animated than ever. “ Fear thee not from the 
 hatred of the sick,” said she many times; “she will 
 watch over thee like thy guardian angel.” 
 
 The consequence of this memorable morning was, 
 that Dr. Walter, as well as Elenora. with two other 
 servants, were on that same day dismissed by the count, 
 and sent from the house. 
 
 To me, on the contrary, the count came and begged 
 my pardon, not only on account of his daughter’s fault, 
 but also for his own weakness, in listening to the ma¬ 
 licious whisperings against me, and half crediting them. 
 He embraced me and called me his friend, the only 
 one which he had in the world, and to whom he could 
 open himself with unlimited confidence. lie conjured 
 me not to forsake his daughter and himself. 
 
 “ I know,” said he, “ what you suffer; and what 
 sacrifices you make on our account. But trust with 
 confidence, to my gratitude as long as I live. Should 
 the countess ever be restored to perfect health, you will 
 certainly be better pleased with us than hitherto. 
 Look at me! Is there on earth a more desolate, un¬ 
 fortunate man than myself? Nothing but hope sup¬ 
 ports me. And all my hopes rest on your goodness, 
 and the continuance of your patience. What have I 
 already gone through ? What must I yet endure ? The 
 extraordinary state of my daughter often almost de- 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 403 
 
 prives me of reason. I know not if I live, or if destiny 
 has not made -me the instrument of a fairy tale.” 
 
 The distress of the good count moved me. I recon¬ 
 ciled myself to him, and even to my situation, which 
 was by no means enticing. On the contrary, the 
 ignoble disposition of the countess much weakened the 
 enthusiasm in which I had hitherto lived for her. 
 
 FRAGMENTS FROM HORTENSIA’s CONVERSATIONS. 
 
 Through the kind and attentive care of the count, it 
 happened that I now never saw Hortensia when awake, 
 for which I felt little inclination. I even did not learn 
 how she thought or spoke of me, though I could easily 
 imagine it. In the house strict order reigned. The 
 count had resumed his authority. No one ventured 
 again to make a party with Hortensia against either 
 of us, since it was known that she would become the 
 accuser of herself and confederates. 
 
 Thus I saw the extraordinary beauty only in those 
 moments when she, raised above herself, appeared to 
 be a being of another world. But these moments be¬ 
 longed to the most solemn, often to the most moving 
 of my life. The inexpressible charm of Hortensia’s 
 person was heightened by an expression of tender inno¬ 
 cence and angelic enthusiasm. The strictest modesty 
 was observed in her appearance. Only truth and good¬ 
 ness were on her lips; and notwithstanding her eyes 
 were closed—in which otherwise, her feelings were 
 most clearly expressed—yet one read the slightest erne 
 
404 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 tion, by the fine play of her countenance, as well as in 
 the varied tones of her voice. 
 
 What she spoke of the past, present, or future, so far 
 as the keen prophetic vision of her spirit reached, ex¬ 
 cited our astonishment; sometimes from the peculiarity 
 of her views; sometimes from their incomprehensi¬ 
 bility. 
 
 She could give us no information of the how , though 
 she sometimes endeavored and sought by long reflec¬ 
 tion to do so. She knew by actual sight, as she said, 
 all the interior parts of her body, the position of the 
 superior and inferior intestines, of the bony structures, 
 of the ramifications of the muscles and nerves; she 
 could see the same in me, or any one to whom I only 
 gave my hand. Though she was a highly educated 
 young lady, yet she had no knowledge, or only the 
 most confused and superficial, of the structure of the 
 human frame. I mentioned the names of many things 
 which she saw and described exactly; she, on the con¬ 
 trary, corrected my ideas when they were not accurate. 
 
 Her revelations upon the nature of our life, inter¬ 
 ested me most, since to me her absolutely inexplicable 
 state, led me most frequently to question her on it. I 
 wrote down each time after leaving her, the substance 
 of her answers, although I must omit much which she 
 gave in expressions and images not sufficiently intelli¬ 
 gible. 
 
 I will not mention here all that she spoke at different 
 times, but will only select and place in a better connec¬ 
 tion what she revealed concerning things which excited 
 my sympathy or curiosity. 
 
 As I once remarked, that she lost much in not being 
 
ArPENDIX. 
 
 405 
 
 able to recollect in her natural and waking state, 
 what she, during the short time of her transfiguration, 
 thought, saw, and spoke, she replied :— 
 
 “ She loses nothing, since the earthly waking is only 
 one part of her life, that terminates in certain single 
 ends; it is only circumscribed outward life. But in the 
 true, unlimited, interior, pure life, she is as conscious 
 of what has passed in her waking state. 
 
 “ The internal, pure life and consciousness continues 
 in every person unbroken, even in the deepest fainting, 
 as in the deepest sleep, which is only a fainting of 
 another kind and from other causes. During sleep, as 
 in a fainting fit, the soul withdraws its activity from the 
 instruments of the senses back to the spirit. One is 
 also then conscious to himself, when without, he appears 
 unconscious, because the lifeless senses are silent. 
 
 “ When thou art suddenly aroused from a deep sleep, 
 on waking, a dark remembrance will sweep before thee, 
 as if thou hadst thought of something before awaking, 
 or as thou thinkest, dreamt, though thou knowest not 
 w r hat it is. The sleep-walker lies in the fast sleep of 
 the outward senses; he hears and sees, not with eyes 
 and ears; nevertheless, he is-not only in the utmost per¬ 
 fection conscious of himself, and knows exactly what he 
 thinks, speaks, and undertakes, but he remembers also 
 every thing of his outward waking, and knows even 
 the place where he, waking, laid his pen. 
 
 “The sick knows very well that she now appears to 
 thee perfect; but in fact the powers of her mind and 
 soul are not more exalted or commanding than formerly, 
 though less bound or crippled by the restraints of the 
 outward senses. An excellent workman works with 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 406 
 
 imperfect tools more imperfectly tnan lie should do. 
 Even the most fluent human speech is tedious and diffi¬ 
 cult, since it neither can represent all the peculiarities 
 of the thoughts and feelings, nor the rapid changes and 
 course of the ideas, but only single parts of the onflow- 
 ing current of thought. 
 
 “ In the purer life, although the tools of the senses 
 rest, there is a more complete and exact remembrance 
 of the past, than in the earthly waking. Since at the 
 earthly waking, the all streams through the open doors 
 of perception too powerful—almost stunning. There¬ 
 fore, Emanuel, thou knowest when we wish, during our 
 earthly waking, deeply and seriously to think, we seek 
 solitude and quiet, and withdraw ourselves, as it were, 
 from without, and neither see nor hear. 
 
 “ The more the mind can be removed from outward 
 life, the nearer it approaches to its purer state; the more 
 it is separated from the activity of the senses, the more 
 clear and certain it thinks. We know that some of the 
 most remarkable discoveries have been made in the state 
 betwixt sleeping and waking, when the outward doors 
 were half-closed, and spiritual life remained undisturbed 
 by foreign intermixture. 
 
 “ Sleep is not to be regarded as the interruption of 
 the perfect conscious life ; but the earthly waking is to 
 be regarded as such an interruption, cr rather as a lim¬ 
 itation of it. Since by earthly waking the soul’s ac¬ 
 tivity is directed, as it were, to fixed paths and limits, 
 and on the other side, the attractions of the outer world 
 influence it so powerfully, that the remembrance of the 
 pure life disappears; still more so, since on the earthly 
 tvaking the attention of the spirit itself is distracted, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 407 
 
 and is attracted to the guarding of the body in all its 
 single parts. Yes, Emanuel, sleep is probably the full 
 awaking of the spirit; the earthly waking, as it were, 
 a slumber or stunning of the spirit. The earthly sleep 
 is a spiritual sunset for the outer world, but a clear sun 
 rise in the inner world. 
 
 “ Yet, even amid the distractions of the earthly wak¬ 
 ing, we perceive, occasionally, glimpses of another life 
 we have passed through, though we do not always know 
 how to express it. So one sees from high mountains, on 
 a summer night, the late or early red of a sun, and of 
 a day that has departed, which is the portion of other 
 countries on the globe. Often with wonderful quick¬ 
 ness, in extraordinary accidents, thoughts and resolu¬ 
 tions occur to men necessary to their safety, without 
 foregone considerations—without reflection. We know 
 not from whence they spring. Connection fails between 
 our previous ideas and this sudden and commanding 
 one. Men usually say it is as if a good spirit, or a 
 divinity, had inspired me with the thought. At other 
 times, we see and hear in our daily life something that 
 we seem already to have seen or heard; and yet we can 
 not fathom how, or when, or where, and we imagine it 
 to be a singular repetition, or some resemblance to a 
 dream. 
 
 “ It is not extraordinary, Emanuel, that our conscious 
 being never ends; that is, that whether sleeping or 
 waking, it ever advances; since it is so, how can it 
 cease ? But wonderful is the change—the ebb and flow 
 —the hither and thither turning of life from the inner 
 to the outward, and from the outward to the inner. 
 
 u The spirit, clothed by the soul, as the sun is by its 
 
iOS 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 rays, flying through the firmament of the world, can 
 exist as well without a body, as the sun without foreign 
 worlds. But the worlds without the sun are dead—■ 
 loosened from their path ; the body without the soul is 
 dust. 
 
 “The body has its own life, as every plant lives; 
 though the earthly powers of lift must first be awakened 
 through the spirit. These rule and move themselves 
 according to their own laws, independent of the soul. 
 Without our will and knowledge, without the will 
 and knowledge of the body, it grows, digests its nourish¬ 
 ment, makes the blood flow, and changes in manifold 
 ways its inheritance. It inhales and exhales; it evapo¬ 
 rates and draws invisible nourishment for its wants from 
 the atmosphere. But, like other plants, it is dependent 
 upon the outward things, by which it nourishes itself. 
 Its condition changes with night and day, like the con¬ 
 dition of every flower; it raises or relaxes itself; its 
 powers of life consume themselves like an invisible tire, 
 which demands fresh nourishment. 
 
 “ Only by a sufficient supply of the vegetable powers 
 of life, is the body fitted for the soul to enter into a 
 close union with it, otherwise it is a heterogeneous 
 substance. If its powers become too much consumed or 
 exhausted, the spiritual life draws itself back from the 
 outward to the interior part; that we call sleep —an 
 interruption of the activity of the senses. The soul 
 returns again into union with the outer parts, so soon as 
 the vegetative department has recruited its powers. It 
 is not the soul which becomes fatigued or exhausted, 
 but the body; the soul is not strengthened by rest, but 
 the body. So there is a constant ebb and flood, an out- 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 40f> 
 
 streaming and retreating of the spiritual essence in us, 
 perhaps conformable to the changes of day and night. 
 
 “ The greater part of our existence we watch out¬ 
 wardly; we should do so, since the body was given to 
 us on earth, on condition of our activity. The body 
 and its inclinations give our activity a determined direc¬ 
 tion. There is something great and wonderful in this 
 economy of God. 
 
 “ With age the body loses the faculty of re-establish¬ 
 ing its powers of life in a sufficient degree to sustain in 
 all its parts its intimate union with the soul. The 
 instrument, formerly ductile and supple, stiffens and 
 becomes useless to the spirit. The soul withdraws itself 
 again into the interior. To the spirit remains all its 
 inward activity, even till all union with the body is 
 impeded; this arrives only through the destroying 
 power of age or sickness. The loosening of the soul 
 from the body is the restoration of the first. It fre¬ 
 quently announces itself by predictions at the hour of 
 death and other prophecies. 
 
 “ The more healthy the body, so much the more is the 
 soul entirely united with all parts of the body ; and the 
 more closely it is bound to it, so much the less capable 
 it is of predicting; it is then, as if the soul, in extraor¬ 
 dinary moments of enthusiasm, unshackled, as it were, 
 sees into futurity. 
 
 “ The retreat of the soul fiom the outer world, pro¬ 
 duces a peculiar state of the human substance. It is 
 the dream. To fall into a slumber, produces the last 
 attraction of the senses, and the first activity of the free 
 interior life. By the waking, the last ray of the inner 
 world mixes itself with the first light of the outward 
 18 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 -i 10 
 
 world. It is difficult to disentangle what particularly 
 appertains to the one or the other ; but it is always in¬ 
 structive to observe dreams. Since the spirit, even 
 in its inner activity, occupies itself with that which 
 attracted it in the outward life, one can expound the 
 movements of the sleep-walker. Though, when the 
 outward senses of the sleep-walker are again unlocked, 
 he can remember nothing of what he did during his 
 extraordinary state, yet it can return to him again in 
 dreams. So do they bring from the inner world much 
 knowledge to the outer. Dream is the natural mediator, 
 the bridge between the outward and inner life.” 
 
 CHANGES. 
 
 These were perhaps the most remarkable ideas which 
 she uttered, either spontaneously or excited by ques¬ 
 tions ; it is true, not in the order in which they are 
 here placed, but as regards the expressions, very little 
 different from them. Much that she said, it was impos¬ 
 sible for me to give again, since, with the connection of 
 the conversation, it lost much of the delicacy of its 
 meaning; much remained wholly unintelligible to me. 
 
 It was also my fault that I neglected leading her 
 back at the right time upon many things that remained 
 obscure to me. I soon remarked, that she did not in 
 all her hours of transfiguration discern and speak with 
 equal clearness—that she gradually liked less to converse 
 on these subjects, and at last discontinued them entire¬ 
 ly, and spoke almost only of household affairs or the 
 
APPKNDIX. 
 
 411 
 
 state of her health. This she constantly affirmed was 
 improving, though for a long time we could perceive np 
 traces of it. She continued, as formerly, to indicate to 
 us what she must eat and drink when awake, and what 
 would be beneficial and what prejudicial to her. She 
 showed an aversion to almost all drugs, but, on the 
 contrary, desired daily an ice-cold bath, and, at last, 
 sea-water baths. As the spring approached, her trans¬ 
 figurations became shorter. 
 
 I will by no means describe here the history of Ilor- 
 tensia’s illness, but will in a few words state, that in 
 seven months after my arrival she was so far restored, 
 that she could not only receive the visits of strangers, 
 but also return them, and could even go to church, 
 theater, and balls, though only for a few hours at a time. 
 The count was beside himself with joy. He loaded his 
 daughter with presents, and formed around her a vari¬ 
 ous and costly circle of amusements. Connected with 
 the first houses of Venice, or courted by them, either 
 on account of his wealth or the beauty of his daughter, 
 it could not fail that every day in the week was meta¬ 
 morphosed into a festival. 
 
 He had hitherto in fact, lived like a hermit, depressed 
 by Hortensia’s misfortune, and kept in a constantly 
 constrained and anxious state by the miracles connected 
 with her illness. Therefore, he had become confined 
 to an intercourse with me. Besides, from want of 
 firmness of mind, and through my influence over Ilor- 
 tensia’s life, and by a kind of superstitious respect for 
 my person, he allowed himself to be willingly pleased 
 with what I directed. He yielded to me, if I may so 
 call it, a kind cf government over himself, and obeyed 
 
112 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 my wishes with a degree of submission which was 
 unpleasant to myself, though I never abused it. 
 
 Now that Ilortensia’s recovery restored to him a mind 
 free from care, and the long-denied enjoyment of 
 brilliant pleasures, his deportment toward me changed. 
 It is true, I continued to hold the direction over his 
 house and family affairs, which he had formerly given 
 up to me, either from blind confidence or for his con¬ 
 venience, but he wished that I should conduct his affairs 
 under some name in his service. As I firmly refused 
 to place myself in his pay, and remained true to the 
 conditions under which I had first engaged with him, 
 he appeared to make a virtue of necessity. He intro¬ 
 duced me to the Venetians as his friend ; yet his pride 
 not permitting his friend to be a mere citizen, he gave 
 me out generally as being from one of the purest and 
 best of the German noble families. I opposed at first 
 this falsehood, but was obliged to yield to the entreaties 
 of his weakness. Thus I entered into the Venetian 
 circles, and was received everywhere. It is true, the 
 count continued to be my friend, though not entirely as 
 formerly, since I was no longer his only one. We no 
 longer, as before, lived exclusively for and with one an¬ 
 other. 
 
 Yet more remarkable was the metamorphose in 
 Hortensia on her convalescence. In her transfigura¬ 
 tions, she was, as ever, all goodness; but the old hate 
 and aversion, during the remaining part of the day, 
 appeared gradually to disappear. Either more obedient 
 to the admonitions of her father, or from her own feel¬ 
 ings of gratitude, she controlled herself so as not to 
 wound me, either by word or look. It was permitted 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 41 a 
 
 me, from time to time, though only for a few moments, 
 to pay my most respectful homage to her, as a guest of 
 the house, as a friend of the count, and as an actual 
 physician. 
 
 I could even at last, without danger of exciting an 
 outbreak of her anger, be in the society -where she was. 
 Indeed, this effort or habit proceeded so far that she 
 could at last, with indifference, suffer me to dine at table, 
 when the count was alone or had guests. But even 
 then I always saw her pride through her manners, as 
 she looked down upon me, and except what decency and 
 common politeness demanded, I never received a single 
 word from her. 
 
 For myself, my life was truly only half gay, though 
 from rr.y greater freedom I felt more comfortable. The 
 amusements into which I was drawn diverted me, with¬ 
 out increasing my contentment. In the midst of bustle, 
 I often longed for solitude, which was more congenial to 
 my nature. It was my invariable determination, so 
 soon as the cure of the countess was perfected, to regain 
 my former liberty. I longed with eagerness the arrival 
 of that moment, since I felt too deeply that the passion 
 with which Ilortensia’s beauty inspired me would become 
 my misfortune. I had struggled against it, and Ilorten¬ 
 sia’s pride and hatred for me rendered the struggle more 
 easy. To her feelings of high noble birth, I opposed 
 my citizen feelings—to her malicious persecutions, the 
 consciousness of my innocence and her ingratitude. If 
 there were moments when the charms of her person 
 affected me—who could remain insensible to so many? 
 —there were many more in which her offensive behavior 
 entirely disgusted me, and caused my heart a bitterness 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 414 
 
 which bordered on aversion. Her indifference toward 
 me was as strong a proof of the want of grateful feel¬ 
 ings in her disposition, as her former aversion. At last 
 I avoided Hortensia more assiduously than she did me. 
 Could she have regarded me with indifference, she 
 must have discovered in my whole behavior how great 
 was my scorn of her. 
 
 Thus, during Ilortensia’s gradual recovery, had the 
 situations between us all, unremarked and singularly 
 enough, wholly changed. I had no ardent wish, except 
 soon to be freed from an engagement which gave me 
 but little joy, and no greater consolation than the 
 moment when Hortensia’s perfect health would render 
 my presence unnecessary. 
 
 PKINCE CHARLES. 
 
 Among those who in Venice connected themselves 
 most intimately with us, was a rich young man, who, 
 descended from one of the noblest Italian families, bore 
 the title of prince. I shall call him Charles. lie was 
 of a pleasing figure, with fine manners, intellectual, 
 quick, and prepossessing. The nobility of his features, 
 as well as the fiery glance of his eye, betrayed an irri¬ 
 table temperament. He lived at an immense expense, 
 and was more vain than proud. He served for some 
 time in the French army. Tired of that, he was upon 
 the point of visiting the most distinguished European 
 cities and courts. The accidental acquaintance which 
 he made with Count Hormegg detained him longer in 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 415 
 
 Venice than he at first intended ; for he had seen Hor- 
 teusia, and joined himself to her crowd of admirers. 
 In pursuit of her, he soon appeared to forget every thing 
 else. His rank, his fortune, his numerous and brilliant 
 retinue, and his pleasing exterior, flattered Hortensia’s 
 pride and self-love. Without distinguishing him from 
 the others by any particular favor, she yet liked to see 
 him near her. A single confidential, friendly look was 
 sutficient to excite in him the boldest hopes. 
 
 The old Count Ilormegg, no less flattered by the 
 prince’s addresses, met them half-way, showed him a 
 preference over all, and soon changed a mere acquaint¬ 
 ance into a close intimacy. I doubted not for a moment 
 that the count had secretly chosen the prince for his 
 son-in-law. Nothing but Hortensia’s indisposition, and 
 a fear of her humors, appeared to prevent both the 
 father and lover from more open approaches. 
 
 The prince had heard, in conversations with the count, 
 of Hortensia’s transfigurations. He burnt with a desire 
 to see her in this extraordinary state ; and the countess, 
 who well knew that this state was far from being dis¬ 
 advantageous to her, gave him, what she had hitherto 
 denied to every stranger, permission to be present at 
 one <?f them. 
 
 He came one afternoon, when we knew Hortensia 
 would sink into this remarkable sleep, as she always 
 announced it in the preceding one. I can not deny 
 that I felt a touch of jealousy as the prince entered the 
 room. Hitherto, I had been the happy one to whom 
 the countess, by preference in her miraculous glorifica¬ 
 tions, had turned her exterior graces and intelle< tual 
 beauty. 
 
416 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Charles approached lightly over the soft carpet, mov¬ 
 ing on tiptoe. He believed that she really slumbered, 
 as her eyes were closed. Timidity and delight were ex¬ 
 pressed in his features as he gazed on the charming 
 figure, which, in her whole appearance, discovered 
 something extraordinary. 
 
 Hortensia at length began to speak. She conversed 
 with me in her usual affectionate manner. I was 
 again, as ever, her Emanuel, Avho governed her thoughts, 
 will, and whole being; a language which sounded very 
 unpleasing to the prince, and which, to me, was never 
 very flattering. Hortensia, however, began to appeal 
 more restless and anxious. She asserted, several times 
 that she felt pains, though she could not tell wherefore. 
 I motioned to the prince that he should reach me his 
 hand. Scarcely had he done so than Hortensia, 
 shuddering violently, cried out gloomily, “ How cold ! 
 Away with that goat there ! He kills me !” She was 
 seized with convulsions, which she had not had for 
 a long time. Charles was obliged instantly to leave the 
 room. He was quite beside himself with terror. After 
 some time Hortensia recovered from her cramps. 
 “ Never bring that impure creature to me again,” said 
 she. 
 
 This accident, which even alarmed me, produced un¬ 
 pleasant consequences. The prince regarded me from 
 this moment as his rival, and conceived a great hatred 
 toward me. The count, who allowed himself to be 
 entirely governed by him, appeared to become suspi¬ 
 cious of Hortensia’s feelings. The mere thought that 
 the countess might acquire an inclination for me, was 
 insupportable to his pride. I’oth the prince and count 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 417 
 
 united themselves firmly together ; kept me at a greater 
 distance from the countess, except during the time of 
 her miraculous sleeps; agreed upon the marriage, and 
 the count opened the wishes of the prince to his 
 daughter. She, although flattered by the attentions of 
 the prince, demanded permission to reserve her declara¬ 
 tion till the complete restoration of her health. Charles, 
 in the mean while, was generally regarded as the be¬ 
 trothed of the countess. lie was her constant attend¬ 
 ant, and she the queen of all his fetes. 
 
 I very soon discovered that I began to be in the way 
 — that with Ilortensia’s recovery I had sunk into my 
 original nothingness. My former discontent returned, 
 and nothing made my situation supportable but that Hor- 
 tensia, not only in her transfigurations, but soon out of 
 them, did me justice. Not only was her old aversion to¬ 
 ward me changed into indifference, but in the same pro¬ 
 portion as her bodily health rebloomed, this indifference 
 changed into an attentive, forbearing respect; to an affa¬ 
 ble friendliness, such as one is accustomed to from the 
 higher to the lower, or toward persons whom one sees 
 daily, who belong to the household, and to whom one 
 feels indebted for the services they perform. She treated 
 me as if I were really her physician — liked to ask my ad¬ 
 vice, my permission, when it concerned any enjoyment 
 or pleasure ; fulfilled punctually my directions, and could 
 command herself to leave the dance so soon as the hour 
 was passed which I had fixed for her. It occurred to 
 me, sometimes, as if the authority of my will had in 
 part passed over to her waking, since it began to act 
 more weakly over her soul during her transfigurations. 
 
 18 * 
 
418 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 THE DREAMS. 
 
 Hortensia’s pride, obstinacy, and humor also passed 
 gradually away from her like bad spirits. In her dis¬ 
 position, almost as lovely as during her trance, she en¬ 
 chained not less by her outward charms than by her 
 affection, humility, and grateful kindness. 
 
 All this made my misfortune. How could I, a daily 
 witness of so many perfections, remain indifferent ? I 
 wished most earnestly that she might, as formerly, 
 despise, offend, and persecute me, that I might the 
 more easily separate from her, and could be able to 
 despise her in return. But that was now impossible. I 
 again adored her. Silently and without hope, I pined 
 away in my passion. I knew, by anticipation, that my 
 future separation from her would take me to the grave. 
 What made my situation worse, was a dream, which 
 I from time to time had of her, and always in the same 
 or similar form. Sometimes I was sitting in a strange 
 room—sometimes on the sea-shore—sometimes in a cave 
 under over-hanging rocks—sometimes on the moss-cov¬ 
 ered trunk of an oak, in a great solitude, and with a 
 deeply agitated soul; then came Hortensia, and looking 
 upon me with the kindest compassion, said, “ Where¬ 
 fore so melancholy, dear Faust?” and thereupon each 
 time I awoke, and the tone in which she spoke thrilled 
 through me. This tone was echoed to me the whole 
 day. I heard it in the bustle of the city, the crowd of 
 company, in the song of the gondoliers, at the opera, 
 everywhere. Some nights when I had this dream, I 
 waked as soon as Hortensia had opened her mouth to 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 410 
 
 make the usual question, and then imagined that 1 
 actually heard the voice without me. 
 
 Dreams formerly in the world used to be dreams ; but 
 in the strange circle into which I was placed by my 
 destiny, even dreams had an unusual character. 
 
 1 was one day regulating some accounts in the count’s 
 room, and had laid some letters before him for his sig¬ 
 nature. He was called to receive some of the Venetian 
 nobility, who had come to visit him. Believing he 
 would soon return, I threw myself upon a chair at the 
 window, and sank into a deep melancholy. Soon I 
 heard footsteps, and the countess, who sought her father, 
 stood near me. 1 was much startled, without knowing 
 wherefore, and respectfully arose. 
 
 “ Why so sad, dear Faust ?” said Hortensia, with her 
 own peculiar loveliness, spiritualizing my whole being, 
 and with the same voice, whose tones sounded so mov¬ 
 ingly in my dreams. She then laughed, as if surprised 
 at her own question, or as astonished at herself; rubbed 
 thoughtfully her brow, and said, after a while, “What 
 is this ? I fancy that it has occurred before. It is 
 extraordinary. I have once before found you exactly 
 as at this moment, and even so questioned you. Is not 
 this singular ?” 
 
 “ Not more singular than I have experienced,” said 
 I, “ since not once, but many times, have I dreamt that 
 you discovered me, and asked in the same words the 
 same questions which you have now had the goodness 
 to do.” 
 
 The count came in and interrupted our short conver¬ 
 sation. But this, apparently in itself unimportant inci¬ 
 dent, caused me much reflection: nevertheless, my re- 
 
420 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 searches were in vain to divine how the play of the 
 imagination could mingle with the reality. She had 
 dreamt the same as myself, and the dream had been 
 accomplished in life. 
 
 These enchantments were yet far from being at an 
 end. 
 
 Five days after this event, the god of sleep mimicked 
 before me that I was invited to a great assembly. It 
 was a great fetes dance. The music made me melancholy, 
 and I remained a solitary spectator. Hortensia suddenly 
 came to me from the crowd of dancers, pressed secretly 
 and fervently my hand, and whispered, “ Be gay, Faust, 
 or else I can not be so!” She then gave me a look of 
 compassionate tenderness, and was again lost in the 
 tumult. 
 
 The Count Hormegg attended a pleasure party on 
 that day, at the country-seat of a Venetian. I accom¬ 
 panied him. On the way he told me that the countess 
 would also be there. When we arrived, we found a 
 large company—in the evening there were magnificent 
 firewotks, and then dancing. The prince opened the 
 ball with Hortensia ; it was like the stroke of a dagger 
 to me, as I looked at them. I lost all inclination to par¬ 
 ticipate in the ball. In order to forget myself, I chose 
 a partner, and mixed with the floating beautiful troop. 
 But it seemed to me that I had lead fastened to my 
 feet, and I congratulated myself when I was able to 
 slip out from the crowd. Leaning at a door, I gazed 
 on the dancers, not at them, but only at Hortensia, 
 who moved there like a goddess. 
 
 I thought of the dream of the past night; in the 
 same moment a dance broke up, and, glowing ivitb joy, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 421 
 
 yet timidly, Hortensia approached me, pressed secretly 
 and lightly my hand, and whispered, “Dear Faust, be 
 gay, that I also may be so !” She spoke this so com¬ 
 passionately, so kindly—with a look from her eyes—a 
 look—I lost sense and speech. When I recovered my¬ 
 self, Hortensia had again disappeared. She swept 
 again in the train of dancers, but her eyes constantly 
 sought only me; her looks constantly hung on me. It 
 was as if she had the humor, by her attention, to 
 deprive me of the residue of my reason. The couples 
 separated at the end of the dance, and I left my place 
 with the view of seeking another situation in the room, 
 to convince myself whether I had been deceived, and 
 whether the looks of the countess would seek me there. 
 
 Already fresh couples assembled for a new dance, as 
 I wandered over to the seats of the ladies. One of 
 them arose at the moment that I approached her—it 
 was the countess. Her arm was in mine—we joined 
 the circle. I trembled and knew not how it had oc¬ 
 curred, since I never could have had the boldness to 
 ask Hortensia to dance, and yet, it appeared to me as 
 if I had done so in my absence of mind. She was un¬ 
 embarrassed—scarcely observed my confusion—and 
 her brilliant glances roved over the splendid crowd. 
 One moment and the music began. I seemed to be 
 unbound from all that was earthly! spiritualized I 
 swept on the waves of sound. I knew not what was 
 passing around me—knew not that we chained the 
 attention of all the spectators. 
 
 What regarded I the admiration of the world? At 
 the end of the third dance I led the countess to a seat, 
 that she might rest herself. Whisperingly I stammered 
 
4-22 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 my thanks—she bowed, with mere friendly politeness, 
 as to the greatest stranger, and I drew back among the 
 spectators. 
 
 The prince, as well as the count, had seen me dan¬ 
 cing with Hortensia, and had heard the general whisper 
 of applause. The prince burnt with jealousy—he did 
 not even conceal it from Hortensia. The count was, 
 offended at my boldness in asking his daughter to 
 dance, and reproached her the next day for so thought¬ 
 lessly forgetting her rank. Both maintained, like all 
 the world, that her dancing had been more full of soul, 
 more impassioned. JSTeither the count nor the prince 
 doubted but that I had inspired the countess with an 
 unworthy inclination for myself. I soon perceived, 
 notwithstanding their efforts to conceal it, that I was 
 an object of hate and fear to them both. I was very 
 seldom, and at last not at all, taken into the society where 
 Hortensia moved. I was, however, silent. 
 
 Both gentlemen indulged, nevertheless, too much 
 anxiety on this account. The countess, certainly, did 
 not deny that she felt a sense of gratitude toward me, 
 but any other feeling was a reproach, at which she 
 revolted. She confessed that she esteemed me, but 
 that it was all the same to her whether I danced in 
 Venice or Constantinople. 
 
 “You are at liberty to dismiss him,” said she to her 
 father, “ so soon as my cure is perfected.” 
 
 THE AMULET. 
 
 The count and Charles awaited this moment in pain, 
 to get rid of me, and to bring on the marriage of 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 423 
 
 Hortensia. Ilortensia looked for it with impatience, 
 in order to rejoice over her own recovery, and at the 
 same time to quiet the suspicions of her father. I also 
 expected it with no less desire. It was only far from 
 Hortensia, and amid new scenes and other occupations, 
 that I could hope to heal my mind. I felt myself 
 unhappy. 
 
 The countess one day announced, not unexpectedly, 
 as she lay in her strange sleep, the near approach of 
 her re-establishment. 
 
 In the warm baths of Battaglia,” said she, “ she 
 will entirely lose the gift of being entranced. Take 
 her there. Her cure is no longer distant. Everj 
 morning, immediately on waking, one bath. After the 
 tenth, Emanuel, she separates from thee. She sees 
 thee never again, if such is thy will; but leave her a 
 token of thy remembrance. She can not be healthy 
 without it. For a long time, thou wearest in thy 
 breast a dried rose, between glasses, and set in gold. 
 So long as she wears this, inclosed in silk, immediately 
 about the region of the heart, she will not again fall 
 into her cramps. Neither later nor earlier than the 
 seventh hour after receiving the thirteenth bath, yield 
 it to her. Wear it constantly till then. She is then 
 healthy.” 
 
 She repeated this desire frequently, and with singu¬ 
 lar anxiety; she laid particular stress upon the hour 
 when I should deliver up to her my only jewel, and of 
 whose existence she had never heard. 
 
 “ Do you really wear any such thing ?” asked the 
 count, astonished, and highly delighted on account of 
 the announced restoration of health to his daughter. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 424 
 
 As I answered, he asked further, if I laid any particu¬ 
 lar value upon the possession of this trifle. I assured 
 him the highest; that I would rather die than to have 
 it taken from me—nevertheless, for the safety of the 
 countess, I would sacrifice it. 
 
 “ Probably a remembrance from some beloved 
 hand ?” observed the count, laughing, and, in an inquir¬ 
 ing manner, to whom it seemed a good opportunity to 
 learn whether my heart had already been bestowed. 
 
 “ It comes,” I replied, “ from a person who is every 
 thing to me.” 
 
 The count was as much moved by my generosity as 
 contented that I had resolved to make the sacrifice on 
 which Hortensia’s continued health depended, and, 
 forgetting his secret grudge, embraced me,—a circum¬ 
 stance which had not happened for a long time. 
 
 “ You make me your greatest debtor,” said he. 
 
 He was most urgent to relate to Hortensia, as soon 
 as I had gone, on her waking, what she desired in her 
 trance; he, moreover, did not conceal from her his 
 conversation with me on the subject of the amulet, 
 which had so great a value for me, since it was the 
 remembrance of a person that I loved above all. He 
 laid great stress on this, as his suspicion still remained, 
 and, in case Hortensia really felt any inclination for 
 me, to destroy it, by the discovery that I, since a long 
 time, had sighed in the chains of another beauty. 
 Hortensia listened to it all with such innocent unem¬ 
 barrassment, and so sincerely congratulated herself 
 upon her early recovery, that the count perceived he 
 had done injustice to the heart of his daughter by his 
 suspicions. In the joy of his heart he was eager to 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 425 
 
 confess to me his conversation with his daughter, and 
 immediately to mention to the prince all that had 
 passed. From that hour, I remarked, both in tho 
 manner of the count and prince something uncon¬ 
 strained, kind, and obliging. They kept me no longer, 
 with their former anxiety, at a distance from Horten- 
 sia; but treated me with the attention and forbearance 
 due to a benefactor, to whom they were indebted for the 
 happiness of their whole life. Arrangements were im¬ 
 mediately made for our journey to the baths of Battag¬ 
 lia. We left Venice on a beautiful summer morning. 
 The prince had gone before, in order to prepare every 
 thing for his intended bride. 
 
 Thi-ough the pleasant plains of Padua we approached 
 the mountains, at the foot of which lay the healing 
 spring. On the way the countess often liked to walk ; 
 then I must always be her conductor. Her cordiality 
 charmed as much as her tender sense of the noble ii 
 the human character, and of the beautiful in nature 
 “I could be very happy,” she often said, “if I coulc 
 pass my days in any one of these beautiful Italian 
 regions, amid the simple occupations of domestic life. 
 The amusements of the city leave the feelings vacant— 
 they are more stunning than pleasing. IIow happy 
 I could be if I might live simply, unprovoked by the 
 miseries of the palace, where one vexes one’s self about 
 nothing; sufficiently rich to make others happy, and in 
 my own creations to find the source of my happiness ! 
 Yet one must not desire every thing.” 
 
 More than once, and in the presence of her father 
 she spoke of her great obligations to me, as the pre¬ 
 server of her life. “ If I only knew how to repay it,” 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 426 
 
 said she. “ I have for a long time racked my head to di& 
 cover something right pleasing to you. You must, in¬ 
 deed, permit my father to place you in a situation which 
 will enable you to live quite independent of others. 
 But that is the least. I need for myself some other sat¬ 
 isfaction.” 
 
 At other times, and frequently, she brought the con¬ 
 versation to my resolution of leaving them as soon as 
 she recovered. “ We shall be sorry to lose you,” said 
 she, good-naturedly : “ we shall lament your loss, as the 
 loss of a true friend and benefactor. We will not, how¬ 
 ever, by our entreaties for you to remain with us, ren¬ 
 der your resolution more difficult. Your heart calls 
 you elsewhere,” added she, with an arch smile, as if ini¬ 
 tiated in the secrets of my breast. “ If you are happy, 
 there is nothing else for you to wish for ; and I do not 
 doubt that love will make you happy. Do not, how¬ 
 ever, therefore forget us, but send us news from time to 
 time of your health.” 
 
 What I felt at such expressions, could be as little 
 uttered as that I should repeat what I was usually in 
 the habit of replying. My answers were full of acknowl¬ 
 edgments and cold politeness; for respect forbade my 
 betraying my heart. Nevertheless, there were moments 
 when the strength of my feelings mastered me, and I 
 said more than I wished. When I said something more 
 than mere flattery, Hortensia looked at me with the 
 clear bright look of innocence, as if she did not compre¬ 
 hend or understand me. I was convinced that Horten- 
 sia felt a grateful esteem for me, and wished me to be 
 happy and content, without, on that account, giving me 
 a secret preference over any other mortal. She had 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 427 
 
 joined me in the dance at the bad, from mere good 
 nature, and to give me pleasure. She herself confessed, 
 that she had always expected me to ask her. Ah ! how 
 my passion had created presumptuous hopes from it! 
 Presumptuous hopes, indeed ; since had llortensia, in 
 reality, felt more than mere common good-will toward 
 me, of what service would it have been to me ? I should 
 only have become more miserable by her partiality. 
 
 While the flame silently devoured me, in her breast 
 was a pure heaven, full of repose. While I could have 
 sunk at her feet, and confessed what she was to me, she 
 wandered near me without the slightest suspicion of my 
 feelings, and endeavored to dissipate my seriousness by 
 pleasantry. 
 
 THE DISENCHANTMENT. 
 
 By the arrangements of the prince, rooms were pro¬ 
 vided for us in the castle of the Marquisa d’Este. This 
 castle, situated on a hill near the village, offered, with 
 the greatest comfort, the most lovely distant prospect 
 and rich shaded walks in the neighborhood. But 
 we were obliged to resort to the town for the baths— 
 therefore a house was arranged in that place for the 
 countess, where she passed the mornings as long as she 
 bathed. 
 
 Her trance in Battaglia, after the first bath, was very 
 short and indistinct. She spoke but seldom, did not 
 once answer, and appeared to enjoy quite a natural 
 sleep. She spoke after the seventh bath, a.\d com¬ 
 manded, that after the tenth she should nc longer 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 428 
 
 remain in that house. It is true, she once more fell 
 asleep after the tenth bath, though she said nothing 
 more than “Emanuel, I see thee no more!” These 
 were the last words she spoke in her transfigurations. 
 
 Since then she had, indeed, for some days, an unnat¬ 
 urally sound sleep, but without the power of speech in it. 
 
 At last arrived the day of her thirteenth bath. Until 
 now, all that she had commanded or predicted in her 
 transfigured hours, had been most punctually fulfilled. 
 Now was the last to be done. The count and prince 
 came to me early in the morning, in order to remind 
 me of the speedy delivery of my amulet. I must show 
 it to them. They did not leave me for a moment the 
 whole morning, as if, that now being so near the long- 
 desired goal, they had suddenly become mistrustful, and 
 feared I might, as regarded the sacrifice, change my 
 mind; or that the relic might accidentally be lost. The 
 minutes were counted as soon as the news came that the 
 countess was in the bath. When she had reposed some 
 hours after her bath, she was conducted by us to the 
 castle. She was uncommonly gay, almost mischievous. 
 Having been told that she was to receive a present from 
 me in the seventh hour, which she must wear all hei 
 life, she was delighted as a child at a gift, and teazed 
 me, jestingly, with the faithlessness I committed toward 
 my chosen one, whose present I gave to another. 
 
 It struck twelve! The seventh hour had arrived. 
 We were in the bright garden saloon. The count, the 
 prince, and the women of the countess were present. 
 
 “Delay no longer,” cried the count, “the moment 
 which is to be the last of Horten sia’s sufferings and the 
 first of my happiness.” 
 
APrENDIX. 
 
 429 
 
 I drew the dear medallion from my breast, whe.'e 1 had 
 had carried it so long, and loosening the golden chain 
 from my neck, pressed, not without a sorrowful feeling, 
 a kiss upon the glass, and delivered it to the countess. 
 
 Hortensia took it, and as her look fell on the dried 
 rose, a sudden and fiery red spread over her face. She 
 bowed gently toward me, as if she would thank me—but 
 in her features one discovered a surprise or confusion, 
 which she appeared to endeavor to conceal. She stam¬ 
 mered some words, and then suddenly withdrew with 
 her women. The count and prince were all gratitude 
 toward me. They had arranged for the evening a little 
 festival at the castle, to which some noble families from 
 Este and Kovigo were invited. 
 
 In the mean time we expected long, and in vain, the 
 reappearance of the countess. After an hour we learnt, 
 that as soon as she had put on the medallion, she had 
 fallen into a sweet and profound sleep. Two, three, four 
 hours passed—the invited guests had assembled, but Hor- 
 tensia did not awake. The count in great disquiet ven¬ 
 tured to go himself to her bed. As he found her in a deep 
 and quiet slumber, he feared to disturb her. The fete 
 passed over without Hortensia’s presence—though, with¬ 
 out her, half the pleasure was wanting. Hortensia still 
 slept as they separated about midnight. And even the 
 following morning she was still in the same sound sleep. 
 No noise affected her. The count was in great agony. 
 My uneasiness was no less. A physician was called, 
 who assured us that the countess slept a sound and re¬ 
 freshing sleep—both her color and pulse announced the 
 most perfect health. Midday and evening came—-yet 
 Hortensia did not awake! The repeated assurances of 
 
430 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 the physician that the countess was manifestly in per¬ 
 fect health, were necessary to quiet us. The night 
 came and passed. The next morning rejoicing echoed 
 through the castle, as Hortensia’s women announced 
 her cheerful waking. Every one hurried forward, and 
 wished the restored one joy. 
 
 NEW ENCHANTMENT. 
 
 Wherefore shall I not say it? During the general 
 joy, I alone remained sad—ah ! more than sad, in my 
 room. The duties, on account of which I had entered 
 into an engagement with Count ITortnegg, were now 
 fulfilled. I could leave him whenever I chose. I had 
 often enough expressed my desire and intention of 
 doing so. Not!ling more was expected from me, but 
 that I should keep my word. Yet only to be allowed to 
 breathe in her vicinity, appeared to me the most envia¬ 
 ble of all lots—to receive only one of her looks, the 
 most exquisite nourishment to the flame of life—to live 
 far from her, was to me the sentence of death. 
 
 But I thought of her near marriage with the prince, 
 and the fickleness of the weak count—I thought of my 
 own honor—of my necessities—that I was free to die— 
 then my pride and firmness were roused, and the deter 
 mination remained to withdraw from the service of the 
 count as soon as possible. I swore to fly. I saw that my 
 misery was without end ; but I preferred bidding adieu 
 to joy for the remainder of life to becoming contempti¬ 
 ble to myself. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 431 
 
 I found Hortensia in the garden of the ce Btle. A 
 6oft shudder ran through me as I approached her, in 
 order to offer my congratulation. She stood, separated 
 from her women, thoughtfully before a bed of flowers. 
 She appeared fresher and more blooming than I had 
 ever seen her—glowing with a new life. She first dis¬ 
 covered my presence as I spoke to her. 
 
 “ How you frightened me?” said she, laughing and 
 embarrassed, while a deep blush overspread her beauti¬ 
 ful cheeks. 
 
 “ I also, my dear countess, would offer to you my joy 
 and good wishes.” 
 
 I could say no more—my voice began to tremble—• 
 my thoughts became confused—I could not support her 
 looks, which penetrated into the depths of my heart. 
 With difficulty I stammered an excuse for having dis¬ 
 turbed her. 
 
 Her looks were silently fastened on me. After a long 
 pause, she said : “ You speak of joy, dear Faust; are 
 you also gay ?” 
 
 “ Heartily, as T know you to be saved from an illness 
 by which you have so long suffered. In a few days I 
 must depart, and endeavor, if it be possible, in other 
 lands, to belong to myself, since I am no longer con¬ 
 nected with any one. My promise is redeemed.” 
 
 “ Is it your serious intention to leave us, dear Faust? 
 I hope not. How can you say that you belong to no 
 one? Have you not bound us to you by all the obli¬ 
 gations of gratitude ? What forces you tc separate from 
 us ?” said the countess. 
 
 I laid my hand upon my heart; my looks sunk to 
 the earth ; to speak was impossible. 
 
432 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 “You remain with us, Faust. Is it not so?” said the 
 countess. 
 
 “ I dare not,” I replied. 
 
 ‘‘And if I entreat you, Faust?” said the countess. 
 
 “ For God’s sake, gracious countess, do not entreat— 
 
 do not command me. I can only be well when I- 
 
 JS r o, 1 must go hence I replied. 
 
 “You are not happy with us—and yet what other 
 employment, what other duty, draws you from us?” 
 asked the countess. 
 
 “ Duty toward myself,” I replied. 
 
 “ Go, then, Faust,” said the countess, “ I have been 
 mistaken in you. I believed that we also were of some 
 value to you.” 
 
 “ Gracious countess,” I replied, “ if you knew what 
 your words excite, you would, from compassion, for¬ 
 bear.” 
 
 “ I must, then, be silent, Faust. Go, then, but you 
 commit a great injustice,” said the countess. 
 
 As she said these words, she turned from me. I 
 ventured to follow her, and entreated her not to be 
 angry. Tears fell from her eyes. I was frightened. 
 With folded hands, I implored her not to be angry. 
 
 “ Command me, I will obey,” said I. “ Do you com¬ 
 mand me to remain? My inward peace, my happiness, 
 my life, I sacrifice with joy to this command !” 
 
 “Go, Faust; I force nothing,” said the countess. 
 “ You remain unwillingly with us.” 
 
 “ Oh ! countess!” said I, “ drive not a man to des¬ 
 peration.” 
 
 “Faust, when do you depart?” said she. 
 
 “ To-morrow—to-day,” I replied. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 433 
 
 No, no, Faust!” said she, softly, and approached 
 nearer to me—“I place no value on my health, on your 
 
 gift, if you- Faust! you remain, at least, only a 
 
 few days,” she whispered with such a soft, entreating 
 voice, and looked so anxiously at me ■with her moist 
 eyes, that I ceased to be master over my will. 
 
 “ I remain,” said I. 
 
 “ But willingly ?” she asked. 
 
 “With delight,” I replied. 
 
 “ It is well! Now leave me for a moment, Faust. 
 You have quite disturbed me. But do not leave the 
 garden. I only wish to recover myself.” 
 
 With these words she left me, and disappeared 
 among the blooming orange-trees. 
 
 I remained long in the same place, like a dreamer. 
 I had never heard such language from the countess 
 before; it was not that of mere politeness. My whole 
 being trembled at the idea that I possessed some in¬ 
 terest in her heart. These solicitations for me to re¬ 
 main—these tears, and, what can not be described, that 
 peculiar something—the extraordinary language in her 
 manners, in her movements, in her voice—a language, 
 without words, yet which said more than words could 
 express. I understood nothing of it all, and, neverthe¬ 
 less, understood all; I doubted, and yet was convinced. 
 
 In about ten minutes, as I wandered up and down 
 the garden walks, and joined the women, the countess 
 approached us quickly and gayly. Enveloped in white 
 drapery, and surrounded by the sun’s rays, she appear¬ 
 ed like a being out of Raphael's dreams. In her hand 
 she carried a bouquet of pinks, roses, and violet-colored 
 vanilla flowers. 
 
 iy 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 m 
 
 “I have plucked a few flowers for you, dear Faust,” 
 do not despise them. I give them to you with quite 
 different feelings from those which, during my sickness, 
 I gave the rose. But I should not remind you, my 
 dear physician, how I vexed you with my childish hu¬ 
 mors. I recollect it myself, as in duty hound, in order 
 to make up for it. And, oh ! how much have I to 
 make np! Do give me your arm—and you, Miss 
 Cecilia, take the other,” which was the name of one 
 of her women. 
 
 As we wandered around with light chat and jokes, 
 her father, the count, joined us, and soon after, the 
 prince. Never had Hortensia been more lovely than 
 on this, the first day of her restored health. She spoke 
 with tender respect to her father—with friendly famil¬ 
 iarity to her female companions—with refined polite¬ 
 ness and goodness to the prince; to me, never without 
 demonstrations of her gratitude. Not that she thank¬ 
 ed me with words, but in the manner in whieli she 
 spoke to me. So soon as she turned to me, there was 
 in her words and tone something indescribably cordial; 
 in her looks and manner something of a sisterly confi¬ 
 dence, good-naturedly solicitous for my satisfaction. 
 This tone did not change either in the presence of her 
 father or of the prince. She continued it with an 
 ingenuousness and sincerity, as if it ought not to be 
 otherwise. 
 
 Some delightful days passed by in fetes and joy. 
 ITortensia’s manner toward me did not change. I, 
 myself, ever wavering between the cold laws of respect 
 and the flames of passion, found once more in Horten- 
 sia’s conversation an inward repose and independence, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 435 
 
 which I had been deprived of since my acquaintance 
 with this prodigy. Her sincerity and truth made me 
 more calm and contented ; her confidence, as it were, 
 more fraternal. She did not at all conceal a heart full 
 of the purest friendship for me—still less did I conceal 
 my feelings, though at the same time I did not venture 
 to betray their depth. Yet who could long behold so 
 many charms and resist their influence? 
 
 It was the custom for the visitors of the baths at Bat¬ 
 taglia, on fine evenings, to sit assembled before a large 
 coffee-house, enjoying the air and refreshments. An 
 unconstrained conversation reigned there. They sat 
 upon chairs in the open street, and in a half circle. To 
 the right and left were heard the sounds of guitars, 
 mandolines, and singing, after the Italian mode. In 
 the great houses, also, music sounded, and windows 
 and doors were lighted. One evening, the prince hav¬ 
 ing left us earlier than usual, the countess took a whim 
 to visit this assemblage of the visitors of the place. I 
 was already in my room, and sat holding the bouquet 
 in both hands, dreaming over my destiny. The light 
 burnt dimly, and my room-door stood half open. Horten- 
 sia and Cecilia saw me as they passed. They watched 
 me for some time, and then came softly in. I did not 
 observe them till they stood close beside me, and de¬ 
 clared that I must accompany them to the town. 
 They now amused themselves with jests at my surprise. 
 Hortensia recognized the bouquet. She took it from 
 the table where I had thrown it, and, withered as it 
 was, stuck it in her bosom. We went down to Battag¬ 
 lia and mingled with the company. 
 
 It happened that Cecilia, in conversation with somo 
 
436 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 persons of her acquaintance, separated from us, which 
 neither Hortensia nor myself regretted. On my arm 
 she wandered up and down through the moving crowd, 
 till she was fatigued. We seated ourselves on a little 
 bench, under an elm which grew on one side. The 
 moon shone through the branches upon Hortensia’s beau¬ 
 tiful face, and upon the withered flowers in her bosom 
 
 “ Will you again rob me of what you have given 
 me ?” asked I, as I pointed to the bouquet. 
 
 She looked at me long, with a strange, thoughtful 
 seriousness, and then replied: “ It always appears to 
 me as if I could give you nothing, and could take 
 nothing from you. Is it not sometimes the same 
 with you ?” 
 
 This answer and question, so lightly and quietly 
 thrown out, placed me in embarrassment and silence. 
 From respect, I scarcely dared to dwell on the kind 
 meaning. She once more repeated the question. 
 
 “ Alas ! it is often so with me!” said I. “ When I 
 see the abyss between you and myself, and the distance 
 which holds me far from yon, then it is so with me. 
 Who can give or take from the gods, that which does 
 not always belong to them 
 
 She opened her eyes, and looked at me with aston¬ 
 ishment. 
 
 “Why do you speak of the gods, Faust? Even to 
 one’s self, one can give or take nothing.” 
 
 “ One’s self?” replied I, with an uncertain voice. 
 “ You know that you have made me your own prop¬ 
 erty !” 
 
 “ I do not myself know how it is,” she answered, and 
 her eyes sank down. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 437 
 
 “ But I, dear countess; I know it. The enchant¬ 
 ment which ruled over us is not lost, but has only 
 changed its direction. Formerly, in your transfigura¬ 
 tions, I governed your will, now you govern mine. In 
 your presence only do I live. I can do nothing—I am 
 nothing without you. If my confession—a crime before 
 the world, but not before God—vexes you, I am not the 
 cause, since it is at your command that I have acted. 
 Can I dissemble before you ? If it is a crime that my 
 soul has involuntarily become chained to your being, it 
 is not my offense.” 
 
 She turned away her face, and raised her hand to 
 denote that I should be silent. I had at the same mo¬ 
 ment raised mine, in order to cover my eyes, which 
 were dimmed in tears. The upraised hands sank down 
 clasped together. We were silent; thought was lost in 
 powerful feelings. I had betrayed my passion—but 
 Hortensia had pardoned me. 
 
 Cecilia disturbed us. We went silently back to the 
 castle. As we separated, the countess said, lowly and 
 sadly : “ Through you I have obtained health only to 
 suffer more.” 
 
 petkakch’s dwelling. 
 
 When we met the next day, there was a kind of 
 sacred timidity between us. I scarcely ventured to 
 address her—she scarcely to answer me. In our looks, 
 full of seriousness, we often met. She appeared to wish 
 to look through me. I sought to read in her calmer 
 moments if she were offended at my boldness of yester- 
 
438 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 day. Many days passed, without our again seeing each 
 other alone. "We had a secret between us, and feared 
 to profane it by a look. Hortensia’s whole manner was 
 more solemn—her gayety more moderate—as if she did 
 not enter with her whole heart into the customary 
 routine of life. 
 
 Nevertheless, I counted too much on her changed 
 manner, after that decisive hour under the elm. Prince 
 Charles had, as I afterward learnt, formally solicited 
 the hand of the countess, which had caused an unpleas¬ 
 ing and constrained state between herself, her father, 
 and the prince. In order to gain time, and not to offend 
 them, Hortensia had entreated for time for reflection : 
 and truly, for such an unlimited period, and under such 
 hard conditions, that Charles must almost despair ever 
 to see his wishes crowned. 
 
 “Not that I have any aversion to the prince,” as she 
 expressed her explanation, “ but I wish still to enjoy 
 my freedom. I will, at a future day, of myself and vol¬ 
 untarily, give my yes or no. But if the offer is repeated 
 before I desire it, then I am determined to reject him, 
 even though I may truly love him.” 
 
 The count knew of old the inflexible disposition of 
 his daughter; though from that reason he hoped the 
 best, since Hortensia had not directly refused the at¬ 
 tentions of the prince. Charles, on the contrary, was 
 discouraged. He saw, in this declaration, only the 
 finally rejected lover, without any definite hopes. Yet 
 he had sufficient self-love to believe that, by his con¬ 
 stancy, lie should at last move Hortensia’s heart. Her 
 confidence towaid me was at times displeasing to him, 
 not that he appeared to fear it—he even found it so 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 439 
 
 much the more without danger, because it was open 
 and unembarrassed. Hortensia also treated him in the 
 same manner. He had accustomed himself to see me 
 treated as the friend of the house, and confidential ad¬ 
 viser both of the father and daughter; and as the count 
 had confided to him the secret of my plebeian descent, 
 he could still less fear me as a rival. He condescended 
 to make me bis confidant, and one day related to me 
 the history of his wooing Hortensia’s hand, and her 
 answer. He conjured me to grant my friendly services 
 to discover, however distant, if Hortensia had any in¬ 
 clination toward him. I was obliged to promise it. 
 Every day he inquired if I had made any discovery? 
 I could always excuse myself, that I had no opportunity 
 of seeing Hortensia alone. 
 
 Probably, in order to facilitate this opportunity, he 
 arranged a little party of pleasure to Arquato, three 
 miles from Battaglia, where the visitors of the baths 
 were accustomed to make a pilgrimage to the tomb and 
 dwelling-house of Petrarch. Hortensia esteemed, above 
 all the Italian poets, this tender and spiritualized song¬ 
 ster of pure love. She had long been enjoying the 
 idea of this pilgrimage. But when the moment of de¬ 
 parture arrived, Charles, under some light pretense, not 
 only remained behind himself, but contrived also to 
 prevent the count from accompanying Hortensia, 
 promising, however, to follow us. 
 
 I conducted the ladies to the church-yard of the 
 village, where a simple monument covered the ashes of 
 the immortal poet, and translated the Latin inscription 
 for them. Hortensia stood absorbed in deep and 
 serious thought before the grave. She sighed, as she 
 
440 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 remarked, “ Tims die all!” and I thought I felt her 
 draw my arm slightly toward her. “ Die all f ” said I; 
 “ then would not the life of man be a cruelty of the 
 Creator, and love the heaviest curse of life ?” 
 
 Sorrowfully we left the church-yard. A friendly old 
 man led us from thence to a vine hill, not far distant, 
 upon which stands Petrarch’s dwelling, and near by a 
 little garden. From this spot the prospect of the plain 
 is truly beautiful. In the house they showed us the 
 poet’s household furniture, which was preserved with 
 religious faithfulness—the table at which he read and 
 wrote, the chair on which he rested, and even his 
 kitchen utensils. 
 
 The sight of such relics always has a peculiar in¬ 
 fluence on my mind. It annihilates the interval of 
 centuries and brings the distant past prominently before 
 the imagination. To me, it was as if the poet had only 
 gone out, and that he would presently open the little 
 brown door of his chamber to greet us. Hortensia 
 found an elegant edition of Petrarch’s sonnets on a 
 table in a corner. Wearied, she seated herself there, 
 rested her beautiful head upon her hand, and read 
 attentively, while the fingers of her supporting hand 
 concealed her eyes. Beatrice and Cecilia went to pre¬ 
 pare refreshments for the countess. I remained silently 
 at the window. Petrarch’s love and hopelessness were 
 my destiny. Another Laura sat there, divine, not 
 through the charms of the muse, but of herself. 
 
 Hortensia took a handkerchief to dry her eyes. I 
 was troubled at seeing her weep. I approached her 
 timidly, but did not venture to address her. She sud¬ 
 denly rose, and smiling, said to me, with a tearful look, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 441 
 
 “ The poor Petrarch ! the poor human heart! But all 
 passes—all. It is centuries since lie has ceased to 
 lament. Though they say, that in his latter years lie 
 conquered his passion. It is good to conquer one's self. 
 May it not be called destroying one’s self ?” 
 
 “If necessity commands it,” I replied. 
 
 “ Has necessity power over the human heart? ” asked 
 the countess. 
 
 “ But,” I replied, “ Laura was the wife of Hugo de 
 Sade. Her heart dared not belong to her lover. His 
 fate was solitary to love, solitary to die. He had the 
 gift of song, and the muses consoled him. He was 
 unhappy — as I.” 
 
 “As you?” replied Hortensia, with a scarcely audible 
 voice.—“ Unhappy, Faust?” 
 
 “ I have not,” I continued, “ the divine gift of song; 
 therefore my heart will break, since it hath nothing to 
 console it. Countess, dear countess—dare I say more 
 than I have said? But I will continue worthy of your 
 esteem, and that can only be by manly courage: grant 
 me one request—only one modest request.” 
 
 Hortensia threw down ller eyes, but did not answer. 
 
 “ One request, dear countess, for my quiet,” I again 
 said. 
 
 “What shall I do ? ” whispered she, without raising 
 her eyes. 
 
 “ Am I certain that you will not refuse my prayer?” 
 I asked. 
 
 She regarded me with a long, serious look, and, with 
 an indescribable dignity said: “Faust, I know not 
 what you would ask : but how great soever it may be 
 
 19 * 
 
442 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 —yes, Faust, I am indebted to you for iny recovery— 
 my life ! I grant your request. Speak.” 
 
 I seized her hand, I sank at her feet, I pressed her 
 hand to my burning lips—I almost lost consciousness 
 and speech. Ilortensia stood with downcast eyes, as if 
 from apathy. 
 
 I at length gained power to speak. “ I must away 
 from here. Let me fly from you. I dare tarry no 
 longer. Let me, in some solitude, far from you, tran¬ 
 quillize my unhappy life. I must away! I disturb the 
 peace of your house. Charles has demanded your 
 hand?” 
 
 “I will never have him!” said the countess, hurriedly 
 and with a firm tone. 
 
 “ Let me fly. Even your goodness increases the 
 multitude of my miseries.” 
 
 Ilortensia struggled violently with herself. 
 
 “ You commit a fearful injustice ! But I can no 
 longer prevent it!” cried she, as she burst into a pas¬ 
 sionate flood of tears. She staggered, and sought the 
 chair—seeing which I sprang up, and she sank sobbing 
 on my breast. After some moments she recovered, 
 and feeling herself encircled by my arms, she en¬ 
 deavored to loosen my hold. But I, forgetting the old 
 commands of respect, pressed her more closely as I 
 sighed, “ A few moments, and then we part!” 
 
 Her resistance ceased; she then raised her eyes on 
 me, and with a countenance on which, as formerly, the 
 color of transfiguration glimmered, said: “Faust, what 
 are you doing?” 
 
 “Will you not forget me in my absence?” asked I* 
 in return. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 443 
 
 “ Can I ?” sighed she, and tlirew down her eyes. 
 
 “ Farewell, Ilortensia !” stammered I, and my cheek 
 rested on hers. 
 
 “ Emanuel! Emanuel!” whispered she. Our lips 
 met. I felt tenderly and gently her reciprocal kiss, 
 while one of her arms rested around my neck. 
 
 Minutes—quarters of hours passed. 
 
 At length, together and in silence, we left the dwell¬ 
 ing of Petrarch, and proceeded in the path down the 
 hill, where we found two servants, who conducted us 
 to an arbor under some wild laurel trees At that 
 moment, the carriage of the prince rolled by. Charles 
 and the count descended from it. 
 
 Ilortensia was very serious and laconic in her 
 answers. She appeared lost in continual meditation. 
 I saw that she was obliged to force herself to speak to 
 the prince. Toward me she preserved, unchanged, the 
 cordiality and confidence of her deportment. Pe¬ 
 trarch’s dwelling was again visited, as the count wished 
 to see it. As we entered the room, which had been con¬ 
 secrated by the mutual confession of our hearts, Horten- 
 sia seated herself again on the chair near the table, in 
 the same place, and with the book, as at first, and so re¬ 
 mained till we departed. Then she arose, laid her 
 hand upon her breast, cast a penetrating look on me, 
 and hurried quickly from the apartment. 
 
 The prince had remarked this emotion and this look. 
 A deep red rose over his countenance ; he went out 
 with folded arms, and his head hung down. All joy 
 retreated from our party. Every one appeared desirous 
 to reach the castle soon again. I did not doubt but 
 that Charles’ jealousy had guessed all, and feared his 
 
444 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 revenge less for myself, than for the peace of the conn 
 tess. Therefore, as soon as I returned home, I deter¬ 
 mined to arrange every thing for my speedy departure 
 the next morning. I communicated my irrevocable 
 resolution to the count, gave up to him all the papers, 
 and entreated him to say nothing to the countess until 
 1 was gone. 
 
 MELANCHOLY SEPARATION. 
 
 I had long since obtained the consent of the count 
 that, in this event, the honest old Sebald should ac¬ 
 company me, who had many times demanded his dis¬ 
 missal, in order to revisit his German home. Sebald 
 twirled and danced round the room for joy, when lie 
 heard from me that the moment of departure had ar¬ 
 rived. A horse and cloak-bag for each, was our whole 
 equipment for the journey. 
 
 I had determined to withdraw very quietly, at the 
 dawn of the following day. No one knew any thing of 
 my departure, except the count and old Sebald, and I 
 desired that no one should know it. I determined to 
 leave behind, for Hortensia, a few lines of thanks and 
 love, and an eternal farewell. The old count appeared 
 surprised, though not discontented. He embraced me 
 most tenderly, thanked me for the services I had per¬ 
 formed, and promised within an hour to come to my 
 room, in order to give me some useful papers, which 
 would procure me for the future a life free from care, 
 and which, as he expressed it, was only a payment on 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 4-15 
 
 i 
 
 account of a debt for life. I would not refuse a mod¬ 
 erate sum for traveling expenses, in order to reach Ger¬ 
 many—in fact, I was almost without money—but my 
 pride refused to take more. 
 
 I packed up as soon as I returned to my room. Se- 
 bald hurried out to prepare the horses, and arrange 
 every thing for departing at the moment. In the mean 
 time I wrote to Hortensia. I can not describe what I 
 suffered—how I struggled with myself—how often I 
 sprang up from writing, to relieve my pains with tears. 
 My life until now, had been one full of care and unhap¬ 
 piness—and the dim future to me presented nothing 
 more soothing to the soul. Death, thought I, is sweeter 
 and easier than thus to outlive hope. 
 
 I destroyed many times what I had written, and had 
 not finished, when I was disturbed in a manner that I 
 least expected. 
 
 Trembling, and almost breathless, Sebald rushed 
 into my room, hastily took up the portmanteau, and 
 cried :— 
 
 “ Mr. Faust, some mischief has happened : they will 
 drag you to prison ; they will murder you! Let us 
 fly, ere it is too late.” 
 
 In vain I asked the cause of his fright. I only learnt 
 that the count was in a rage, the prince raving, and 
 every one in the castle roused against me. I replied 
 coldly, that I had nothing to fear, and still less to fly 
 like a criminal. 
 
 “ Sir,” cried Sebald, “ one can not escape without 
 misfortune from this unhappy family, over which a bad 
 6tar rules. This I have long since said. Fly !” 
 
 At this moment, two of the count’s gamekeepers 
 
446 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 came in, and requested me to come immediately to the 
 count. Sebald blinked and winked, and urged me to 
 endeavor to escape. I could not avoid smiling at his 
 terror, and followed the servants. I, however, com¬ 
 manded Sebald to saddle the horses, since I no longer 
 doubted that something extraordinary had occurred, and 
 thought that the prince, probably from jealousy, had 
 projected some quarrel with me. 
 
 I had scarcely reached the Count Hormegg, when 
 Charles came storming into the room, and declared 
 that I had dishonored the house, and had a secret 
 intrigue with the countess. Beatrice, the companion 
 of the countess, gained over to the prince, either 
 by his presents or perhaps by his tenderness, had, as 
 she left Petrarch’s dwelling with Cecilia, become im¬ 
 patient at Hortensia and myself, and returned and saw 
 us in the embrace of each other. The Abigail was dis¬ 
 creet enough not to disturb us, but was prompt enough, 
 so soon as we returned to the castle, to betray the im¬ 
 portant event to the prince. The count, who could 
 believe any thing but this—since it appeared to him the 
 most unnatural thing in the world, that a common 
 citizen, a painter, should have won the love of a count¬ 
 ess of Hormegg—treated the affair, at first, as a mere 
 illusion of jealousy. The prince, for his justification, 
 was obliged to betray his informer; and Beatrice, 
 though much opposed to it, was compelled to acknowl¬ 
 edge what she had seen. The anger of the old count 
 knew no bounds, yet the event appeared to him so 
 monstrous, that he determined to interrogate the count¬ 
 ess herself upon it. Hortensia appeared. The sight of 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 447 
 
 the pale faces, disfigured by rage and fright, excited her 
 ten or. 
 
 “ What has happened ?” cried she, almost beside 
 herself. 
 
 With fearful earnestness, the count replied, “ That 
 thou must say.” He then, with forced tranquillity and 
 kindness, took her hand, and said: 
 
 “ Hortensia, thou art accused of staining the honor of 
 our name by—well, then, it must be said—by an intrigue 
 with the painter, Faust. Hortensia, deny it—say no! 
 Give honor and tranquillity again to thy father. Thou 
 canst do it. Refute all malicious tongues—refute the 
 assertion that thou wast seen in Faust’s arms; it was a 
 delusion, a misunderstanding, a deception. Here stands 
 the prince, thy future husband. Reach him thy hand. 
 Declare to him, that all that has been said against thee 
 and Faust, are wicked lies. Faust’s presence shall no 
 longer disturb our peace; this night he leaves us for¬ 
 ever.” 
 
 The count spoke still longer. He did so, in order to 
 give an advantageous turn to the fact-—since the alter¬ 
 nate redness and paleness of Hortensia, allowed him no 
 longer to doubt of its truth — which might satisfy the 
 prince, and make every thing smooth again. He was 
 prepared for nothing less, than what Hortensia, as soon 
 as he was silent, openly declared. Excited to the most 
 impetuous feelings, as much by the treachery of Bea¬ 
 trice, who was still present, as by the reproaches, and 
 the news of my sudden departure—with her own pecu¬ 
 liar dignity and resolution, she turned first toward Bea¬ 
 trice, and said:— 
 
 “ Wretch ! I stand not opposed to you. My servant 
 
44S 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 must not be my accuser. I am not to justify myself 
 before you. Leave the room and the castle, and never 
 appear before me again.” 
 
 Beatrice fell weeping at her feet. It was in vain— 
 she must obey, and departed. 
 
 “Dear Faust,” said she to me—and her cheeks 
 glowed with an unnatural color—“ you stand here as one 
 accused or condemned.” She then related what had 
 happened, and went on to say: “ They expect me to 
 justify myself. I have no justification to make before 
 any one but God, the judge of hearts. I have only 
 here to acknowledge the truth, since my father exacts 
 it, and to declare my unalterable design, since destiny 
 commands it, and I am born to be unhappy. Faust, I 
 should be unworthy of your regard, could I not raise 
 myself above misfortune.” 
 
 She then turned to the prince, and said : “ I esteem 
 you, but I do not love you. My hand will never be 
 yours; nourish no further hopes. After what has just 
 passed, I must beg of you to avoid us forever. Do not 
 expect that my father can force me against my will. 
 Life is indifferent to me. His first act of power would 
 have no other consequences than that he must bury the 
 corpse of his daughter. To you I have nothing more 
 to say. But to you, my father, I must acknowledge 
 that I love—love this Faust. But it is not my fault. 
 He is hateful to you—he is not of our rank. He must 
 separate from us. I annul my earthly union with him. 
 You, my father, can make no change, since any en¬ 
 deavor to do so will be the end of my life. I say to you, 
 beforehand, I am prepared for my death, since that 
 only will terminate my miseries.” 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 44'J 
 
 She stopped. The count wished to speak—the prince 
 likewise. She motioned them to be silent. She ap¬ 
 proached me, drew a ring from her finger, gave it to 
 me, and said: “ My friend, I part from you, perhaps 
 forever. Take this ring in remembrance of me. This 
 gold and these diamonds shall become dust, sooner than 
 my love and truth shall cease. Do not forget me.” 
 
 As she said this, she laid her arms on my shoulders, 
 pressed a kiss on my lips—her countenance changed— 
 the blood forsook her cheeks—and pale and cold, she 
 sank with closed eyes to the floor. 
 
 The count gave a piercing, fearful shriek. The prince 
 called for assistance. I carried the beautiful body to a 
 couch. Women hurried in—physicians were called. I 
 sank, without consciousness, on my knees, before the 
 couch, and held the cold hand of the senseless one to 
 my cheek. The count tore me away. He was like a 
 madman. 
 
 “ Thou hast murdered her 1” thundered he to me. 
 '‘Fly, wretch, and never let me see thee again !” 
 
 He thrust me out of the door. Upon this sign, the 
 huntsmen seized me and dragged me down the stairs 
 before the castle. Sebald stood before the stable. There 
 I lost all power and sense. I lay, as Sebald afterward 
 said, a full quarter of an hour, senseless on the earth. 
 I had scarcely recovered, when he lifted me upon one 
 of the horses, and we hastened from the castle. I rode 
 as if in my sleep, and was often in danger of falling. 
 By degrees, I gained full consciousness and power. The 
 past was now clear before me. I became desperate, 
 and determined to return to the castle, and know Hor- 
 tensia’s fate. Sebald entreated me, by all the saints, 
 
450 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 to give up so frantic a design. It was in vain. I had 
 just turned my horse, when I saw a rider coming 
 toward us at full gallop, and heard some one cry, 
 “Cursed assassin.” It was Charles’ voice. At the 
 same time, some shot struck me. As I grasped my 
 pistols, my horse fell dead. I sprang up. Charles rode 
 toward me with a drawn sword, and as he was about 
 to cut me down, I shot him through the body. His at¬ 
 tendant caught him as he fell. Sebald pursued them 
 in their flight, and sent some balls after them. He then 
 returned, and took the portmanteau from the dead 
 horse; I mounted with him, and we hurried on at a 
 quick pace. 
 
 This murder had occurred in the vicinity of a little 
 wood, which was soon reached. The sun had already 
 set. We rode through the whole night, without know¬ 
 ing where. As we stopped at daybreak, at a village 
 inn, in order to give our horse some rest, we found him 
 so excoriated by the saddle, that we gave up all hope 
 of using him further. We sold him at a very low 
 price, and continued our flight on foot by a secure road, 
 carrying our baggage by turns. 
 
 NEW ADVENTURE. 
 
 The first rays of the setting sun, as we journeyed 
 on, fell on the diamonds of Hortensia’s ring. I kissed 
 it, and wept over the recollections it brought to my 
 mind. Sebald had already told in the night, that he 
 had heard from one of the servants, while I was lying 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 451 
 
 insensible near tbe horses in the yard, that Hortensia, 
 who had been considered dead, had returned to life. 
 This news had strengthened and consoled me. I was 
 perfectly indifferent about my own fate. Hortensia’s 
 greatness of soul had inspired me. I was proud of my 
 misery. My conscience, free from reproach, raised me 
 above all fear. I had but one sorrow—to be eternally 
 separated from one I must ever love. 
 
 When we reached Ravenna, we took our first day’s 
 rest. It was a long day’s rest—for I, shaken by the 
 late events, and exhausted hy my unusual fatigue and 
 exertion, was very ill. For two weeks I lay in a fever. 
 Sebald endured the most painful anxiety, since he 
 feared, and justly, the murder of the prince would 
 necessarily bring us into the hands of justice. He had 
 given us both feigned names, and bought other clothes. 
 My good constitution, more than the science of my 
 physician, at length preserved me, though great weak¬ 
 ness remained in my limbs. But as we had determined 
 to go by ship from Bimini to Trieste, I hoped to recover 
 my health on the way. 
 
 One evening, Sebald came to me in the greatest 
 fright, and said, “ Sir, we can remain here no longer. 
 A stranger stands without, and wishes to speak with 
 you. We are betrayed. Tie asked at first my name, 
 and I could not deny it. He then asked for you.” 
 
 “ Let him come in,” said I. 
 
 A well-dressed man entered, who, after the first ex¬ 
 change of politeness, inquired after my health. As 1 
 assured him that I was quite well again, he said, “ So 
 much the better. I may then give you some good advice. 
 You know what passed between Prince Charles and 
 
452 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 yourself. He is out of danger, but lias sworn to take 
 your life. You had, therefore, better leave immedi¬ 
 ately. You intend to go to Germany, by Trieste. Do 
 not do so. There is only a Neapolitan vessel that goes 
 back to Naples. When once at sea, you are safe ; 
 otherwise, in a few hours, death or a prison. Here is a 
 letter for the Neapolitan captain, he is my truest friend, 
 and will receive you with pleasure. Now go immedi¬ 
 ately to Rimini, and from thence to Naples.” 
 
 I was not a little embarrassed at seeing this stranger 
 so well informed. To my question how he acquired 
 his knowledge, he smiled, and only replied, “ I know- 
 nothing more, and can tell you nothing more; I reside 
 here in Ravenna; I am a clerk of the court. Save 
 yourself.” He then suddenly left us. 
 
 Sebald affirmed stoutly and firmly, that the man 
 must be possessed by a devil, or he could not have 
 known our secrets. As the stranger spoke with several 
 of the people of the hotel, we learnt afterward, that the 
 unknown so-called court’s secretary, was a good, honest 
 man, wealthy and married. It was incomprehensible 
 how our most carefully concealed plan of going to Ger¬ 
 many by Trieste, could be so exactly known, as no one 
 but ourselves was privy to it. The enigma was, how¬ 
 ever, soon served, when Sebald confessed to me that he 
 had, during my illness, written a letter to his former 
 comrade, Casper, at Battaglia, begging to know whether 
 the prince was dead or not. He expected the answer 
 in vain. Without doubt, the letter had fallen into the 
 hands of Charles or his people, or the contents were 
 betrayed to him. 
 
 Sebald was now in the greatest anxiety. He engaged 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 453 
 
 a carriage for Rimini without delay, and we set out 
 that same night. These untoward circumstances made 
 me not quite at ease. I knew not whether I was flying 
 from, or going to meet the danger. The justice’s clerk 
 might be an agent of the prince. In the mean while 
 we not only reached Rimini, but found there the Nea¬ 
 politan captain. I gave him the letter of the clerk— 
 though I do not deny that I had before opened and read 
 it. I soon agreed with him as to our voyage to Naples. 
 The wind became fair—the anchors were raised. Beside 
 ourselves, there were some other travelevs on board; 
 among others, a young man, whose sight at first was 
 not very agreeable to me, as I remembered to have 
 seen him once, though very transiently, at the baths of 
 Battaglia. I, however, became easy, as 1 judged from 
 his conversation, that he had not observed me, and that 
 I was completely a stranger to him. He had only left 
 Battaglia three days since, and was returning to Na¬ 
 ples, where he had carried on a considerable business, 
 lie mentioned the acquaintance he had made at the 
 baths, and spoke of the German countess, who was a 
 wonder of grace and beauty. How his remark made 
 my heart beat! He appeared to know nothing of the 
 wounding or death of the prince. The countess, whose 
 name was unknown to him, had gone four days before 
 him, but where, he had not troubled himself to inquire. 
 
 However imperfect this news was, it served not a lit¬ 
 tle to tranquilize me. Hortensia lived — Hortensia was 
 in health. “ May she be happy !” was my sigh. 
 
 The voyage was tedious to all but myself. I sought 
 solitude. Upon the deck, I watched through many 
 uights, and dreamed of Hortensia. The young mer- 
 
454 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 chant, who called himself Tufaldini, remarked my 
 melancholy, and took much pains to enliven me. He 
 heard I was a painter; he passionately loved the art, 
 and constantly turned the conversation upon that sub¬ 
 ject, since nothing but that appeared to interest or 
 make me talkative. His sympathy and friendship went 
 so far, that he invited me to stay at his house in Naples, 
 which I was the less inclined to refuse, as I was an en¬ 
 tire stranger in that city, and my own and Sebald’s 
 joint stock of gold, particularly after the deduction of 
 traveling expenses, had considerably dwindled away. 
 
 NEW WONDEK. 
 
 The kindness and attention of the generous Tufal¬ 
 dini, in fact put me to the blush. From a traveling com¬ 
 panion he made himself my friend, though I had done 
 little or nothing to gain or merit his love. He intro¬ 
 duced me as his friend to his aged and respectable 
 mother, and his charming wife. They prepared the 
 best chambers for Sebald and myself, and treated me, 
 from the first day of our arrival, like an old family 
 friend. But Tufaldini did not rest here. He intro¬ 
 duced me to all his acquaintances, and orders soon 
 came for pictures. He was as eager to make me known 
 as if it were for his own advantage. He consented at 
 last to receive payment for my board and lodging, 
 though he was at first much mortified by my offering 
 it. But when he saw my determination to leave his 
 house, if he would not accept any remuneration, he 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 455 
 
 took the money, though more to gratify me than in¬ 
 demnify himself. 
 
 I was, above all expectation, fortunate in my works. 
 My pictures were liked, and I was paid what I 
 demanded. One finished order brought on another. 
 Even Sebald found himself so comfortable in Naples, 
 that he forgot his home-sickness. He thanked God for 
 having escaped from the service of the count with a sound 
 head, and would, as he expressed it, rather serve me for 
 bread and water, than the count for a whole bowl of gold. 
 
 My plan was to gain sufficient by my labors to enable 
 me to travel to Germany, and there settle myself. I 
 was industrious and economical. So passed one year. 
 The love which I enjoyed in Tufaldini’s house; my 
 quiet life in the dissipated city ; the charm of the soft 
 climate, and then, that I was without a vocation, with¬ 
 out friends in Germany, induced me to forget my first 
 design. I remained where I was. Joy bloomed for 
 me as little in Germany as in the Italian soil; only the 
 thought that perhaps Hortensia dwelt on the estate of 
 her father, that I might then have the consolation to 
 see her once more, though at a distance ; this thought 
 alone sometimes drew my desires toward the north. 
 But then I recollected the parting hour and the words she 
 spoke : I annul my earthly union with him ! as before 
 her father she soleraidy, and with such heroic greatness 
 renounced me : I again roused my courage, and deter¬ 
 mined to suffer all and cheerfully. I was an oak, 
 which the storm had shattered, without branches, with¬ 
 out leaves, solitary, unregarded, and dying in itself. 
 
 It is said that time’s beneficent hand heals all 
 wounds. I myself had believed the saying, but found 
 
456 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 it untr le. My melancholy continued the same—I 
 avoided the gay. Tears often gave me relief, and my 
 only joy was to dream of her—when I again saw her 
 in her greatness and loveliness. Her ring was my 
 holiest relic. Had it fallen into the depths of the sea, 
 nothing should have prevented my plunging in after it. 
 
 The second year passed, hut not my sorrow. A faint 
 gleam of hope sometimes refreshed me even in my 
 darkest hour, that perhaps an accident might bring me 
 in the vicinity of my lost chosen one, or that at least I 
 should have some news of her. 
 
 It is true, I did not see the possibility of it. How 
 could the distant one know, after years, where the soli¬ 
 tary one dwelt ? It was all the same. What has hope 
 to do with impossibilities ? 
 
 But at the end of the second year, I gave up this 
 hope. Hortensia was dead for me. I saw her no 
 longer in my dreams, except as a spirit shining in the 
 rays of a glorified being. 
 
 Tufaldini and his wife had often asked me, in our 
 confidential conversations, the cause of my melancholy. 
 I could never prevail on myself to violate my secret. 
 They no longer inquired, but they were the more care¬ 
 ful of my health. I felt that the powers of my life 
 were sinking—and the thoughts of the grave to me 
 were sweet. 
 
 All was suddenly changed. One morning Sebald 
 brought some letters from the post. Among them were 
 some new orders for pictures, and a little casket. I 
 opened it. Who can imagine my joyful fright ? I saw 
 Hortensia’s image— living, beautiful—but dressed in 
 mourning—the face softer, thinner, and paler than I 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 457 
 
 had actually seen it. On a small piece of paper, in 
 Hortensia’s hand, were written three words : “ My 
 Emanuel, hope.” 
 
 I reeled through the room like an intoxicated person. 
 I sank down speechless on a chair, and raised my hands 
 prayerfully to heaven. I shouted—I sobbed. I kissed 
 the picture and the little paper which her hand must 
 have touched. I knelt, and with my face bowed to the 
 floor, weeping, did I thank Providence. 
 
 Thus Sebald found me. He thought I was deranged. 
 He did not err. I feel that man is always stronger to 
 bear misfortune than happiness; while against the one 
 lie always approaches more or less prepared, the other 
 comes upon him without preparation or foresight. 
 
 Again my hopes bloomed out youthfully, and in 
 them my health and life. Tufaldini and all my ac¬ 
 quaintances were delighted at it. I expected from day 
 to day fresh news from my dearly beloved. There was 
 no doubt she knew my residence, though I could not 
 comprehend how she had acquired the intelligence. 
 But from what part of the world did her picture come ? 
 All my researches and inquiries on that subject were in 
 vain. 
 
 THE SOLUTION. 
 
 At the end of eight months, I received another letter 
 from her. It contained the following lines :— 
 
 “ I may see thee, Emanuel, only once more. Be in 
 Leghorn the first morning of May, where thou shalt 
 
 receive further information from a Swiss mercantile 
 20 
 
458 
 
 APPKNDTX. 
 
 house, it’ thou inqnircst for the widow, Marian 
 Schwartz. Tell no one in Naples where thou goest; 
 least of all speak of me. I belong no longer to any 
 one in this world, except, perhaps, for a few moments to 
 thee.” 
 
 This letter filled me with new delight, but at the 
 same time with an anxious foreboding, on account of 
 the sad secret which seemed to pierce through it. 
 Nevertheless, again to see the most perfect of her sex, 
 though only for a moment, was sufficient for my soul. 
 I left Naples in April, to the great sorrow of the Tufal- 
 dini family. Sebald and every one believed that I was 
 going back to Germany. 
 
 I arrived at Gaeta with Sebald. We had here an 
 unexpected pleasure. In passing by the garden door 
 of a villa, before the city, I observed, among many 
 other young ladies, Miss Cecilia. I stopped, sprang 
 down, and made myself known. She led me into the 
 circle of her relations. She had been married for three 
 months. I learnt from her that she had left Hortensia 
 about a year since. She knew nothing of the residence 
 of the countess, only that she had gone into a nunnery. 
 “ It is already a year,” said Cecilia, “ since Count Hor- 
 megg died. From the sudden contraction of his accus¬ 
 tomed expenditure, I soon remarked that he had left 
 his affairs in a sadly confused state. The countess 
 diminished her train of domestics to a very few per¬ 
 sons. I had the favor of remaining with her. As she 
 soon after, by an unfortunate lawsuit, lost all hopes of 
 preserving any thing from the paternal estates, we were 
 all discharged. She retained only one old attendant, 
 and declared she would end her days in a cloister. Oh, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 459 
 
 how many tears did this separation cost us! Hor- 
 tensia was an angel, and never more beautiful, never 
 more charming, never more exalted, than under the 
 heaviest blow of destiny. She resigned all her accus¬ 
 tomed splendor, and divided, like a dying person, 
 all the riches of her wardrobe among her dis¬ 
 missed servants—rewarded all with a princely gener¬ 
 osity, which must certainly have placed her in danger 
 of want, and only begged us to include her in our 
 prayers. I left her in Milan, and returned home here 
 to my family. She has declared her intention of trav¬ 
 eling to Germany, and there seeking the solitude of 
 a cloister.’* 
 
 This relation of Cecilia quickly solved the enigma in 
 Hortensia’s last letter. I also learnt from her that 
 Charles, who was severely but not mortally wounded, 
 had immediately on his recovery entered into the service 
 of the Order of Malta, and soon died. 
 
 I left Gaeta in a pensive, yet happy mood. Horten¬ 
 sia’s misfortune and the loss of her father excited my 
 compassion, but at the same time gave birth to a bolder 
 hope than I had at any time ventured to conceive. I 
 flattered myself that I might be able to change her 
 determination for a cloister life, and, with her heart, 
 perhaps, win her hand. I was dizzy with the thought 
 of being able to share the fruits of my labors with 
 Hortensia. This was my only dream the whole way to 
 Leghorn, which I entered one fine morning, eight days 
 before the allotted time. 
 
 I did not delay a moment in seeking out the Swiss 
 commercial house to which I was directed. 1 ran 
 there in my traveling dress, and asked the address of 
 
460 
 
 APPKNDIX. 
 
 the widow Schwartz, in order that I might learn 
 whether the countess had yet arrived in Leghorn. A 
 menial servant conducted me to the widow, who lived in 
 an obscure street, and in a very simple private house. 
 How great was my vexation to learn that Mrs. 
 Schwartz was gone out, and that I must call in two 
 hours. Every moment of delay was so much taken 
 from my life. I returned again at the appointed hour. 
 An old servant woman opened the door, led me up 
 stairs and announced me to her lady. I was invited 
 to enter a simply furnished, hut neat room. Opposite 
 the room door, on a couch, sat a young lady, who did 
 not appear to notice my entrance, or to return my salu¬ 
 tation, but covering her face with both hands, en¬ 
 deavored to conceal her sobs and tears. 
 
 At this sight, a feverish shudder ran through me. 
 In the figure of the young lady, in the tone of her sobs, 
 I recognized the form and voice of Hortensia. With¬ 
 out deliberating or assuring myself of the fact, like one 
 intoxicated, I let hat and cane fall, and threw myself 
 at the feet of the weeping one. O God ! who can say 
 what I felt ? Hortensia’s arms hung round my neck— 
 her lips met mine. The whole past was forgotten—the 
 whole future seemed strewn with flowers. Never was 
 love more beautifully remunerated, or constancy more 
 blissfully rewarded. We both feared, simultaneously, 
 that this moment was merely a dream of felicity. In¬ 
 deed, on the first day of our meeting, so little was asked 
 or answered, that we separated without knowing more 
 of each other than that we had met. 
 
 On the following day, one may easily believe that I 
 was ready in good time to take the advantage of the 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 461 
 
 bewitching Iiortensia’s invitation to breakfast with her. 
 Her servants consisted of a cook, a housemaid, a wait¬ 
 ing-maid, coachman, and footman. All the table 
 service was of the finest porcelain and silver, although 
 no longer with the arms and initials of the old count. 
 This appearance of a certain opulence, which was quite 
 contrary to my first idea, and went far above the 
 powers of my own fortune, was very humbling to the 
 dreamy plans I had indulged in during my journey from 
 Gaeta to Leghorn. I expected, yes, I even wished to 
 find Hortensia in a more limited situation, in order to 
 give courage to offer my all. Now, I again stood 
 before her the poor painter. 
 
 I did not conceal, in our confidential conversations, 
 what I had heard at Gaeta from Cecilia, and what feel¬ 
 ings, what determinations, what hopes had been 
 awakened. I described to her all my destroyed dreams, 
 and hoped that she, perhaps, would give up her cruel 
 design of burying her youth and beauty in a cloister; 
 that she would choose me for her servant and true 
 friend ; that I would lay at her feet all that I had saved 
 and all that my future industry might gain. I de¬ 
 scribed to her, with the colors of loving hope, the bless¬ 
 edness of a quiet life, in some retired situation—the 
 simple house, the little garden near it, the work-room 
 of the artist, inspired by her presence. I hesitated— 
 I trembled—it was impossible to proceed. She threw 
 her bright eyes upon me, and a heavenly color flew 
 over and animated her countenance. 
 
 “ Thus have my fancies reveled,” added I, aftei 6omc 
 time, “ and shall they not be realized ?” 
 
 Hortensia arose, went to a closet, drew r out a little 
 
462 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 ebony casket, richly studded with silver, and handed 
 it to me, together with the key. 
 
 “In order to deliver you this, I requested your 
 presence in Leghorn. It belongs not in part, but in 
 completion of your dream. After the death of my 
 father, my first thought was to fulfill the duties of my 
 gratitude to you. I have never lost sight of you since 
 your flight from Battaglia. A fortunate accident 
 brought into my hands the letter of your servant, writ¬ 
 ten to one of his friends in my service, from Ravenna, 
 giving your traveling plans. Mr. Tufaldini, of Naples, 
 was persuaded by me, in a secret conference, to take 
 care of you himself, forever. He received a small 
 capital to defray all expenses, and even, if necessary, for 
 your support. I would, also, willingly have rewarded 
 him for his trouble, but it was with the greatest reluc¬ 
 tance the good man would accept from me the most 
 trifling present. Thus I had the pleasure of receiving, 
 every four weeks, news of your health. Tufaldini’s 
 letters were my only comfort after our parting. On 
 the death of my father, I separated myself, as regards 
 fortune, from my family. Our estates must remain in 
 the male line, all the rest I converted into gold. I 
 no longer thought of returning to my native country— 
 my last refuge should be a cloister. Under the pre¬ 
 tence of impoverishment, I avoided all the old vicinities 
 of my father, parted with my former domestics, and 
 took a private station and name, in order to live more 
 concealed. It was not until I had accomplished all 
 this, that I summoned you, in order to finish the work, 
 and redeem the vow which I had made to Heaven. 
 The moment is at hand. You have related to me your 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 463 
 
 beautiful dreams. Perhaps on yourself, more than on 
 any other, now depends their realization.” 
 
 She opened the casket, and drew out a packet of 
 papers, carefully secured and directed in my name ; she 
 broke the seal and laid before me a deed prepared by a 
 notary, in which, partly as a payment of a debt, partly 
 as accrued interest which belonged to me, and partly 
 as being heir to an inheritance, left by the widow 
 Marian Schwartz, an immense sum in bank-notes of dif¬ 
 ferent countries, was made over to me. 
 
 “This, dear Faust,” continued the countess, “ is your 
 property—your well-earned, well-deserved property. I 
 have no longer any share in it. A modest income i3 
 sufficient for me at present. When I renounce the 
 world and belong to a cloister, you will, also, be heir to 
 what I possess. If I am of any value to you prove it 
 by an eternal silence as regards my person, my sta¬ 
 tion, and my true name. Yet more, I desire you to 
 say not a syllable which can indicate refusal or thanks 
 for this, your own property. Give me your hands to it.” 
 
 I listened to her speech with surprise and pain, laid 
 down the papers with indifference, and replied : 
 
 “ Do you believe that these bank-notes have any 
 value for me? I may neither refuse, nor yet be thank¬ 
 ful for them. Be not fearful of either. AVhen you go 
 into a cloister, all that remains, the world itself, is super¬ 
 fluous to me. I need nothing. What you give is dust. 
 Ah 1 Hortensia, you once said that it was my soul 
 which animated you; were it still so, you would not 
 pause to follow my example. I would burn these notes. 
 What oh all I do with them ? — destroy you and your for¬ 
 tune Hgo ! Oh ! that you were mine ! Hortensia, mine 1’' 
 
464 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 She leant tremblingly toward me, clasped one of my 
 hands in both of hers, and said passionately, and with 
 tears in her eyes :— 
 
 “ Am I not so, Emanuel ?” 
 
 “ But the cloister ? Hortensia!” 
 
 “ My last refuge—if thou forsakest me!” 
 
 Then made we our vows before God. At the altar, 
 by the priestly hand, were they consecrated. We left 
 Leghorn., and sought the charming solitude, in which 
 we now dwell with our children. 
 
HISTORY 
 
 OF THE INTRODUCTION OF 
 
 THE HARMON IAL PHILOSOPHY 
 
 INTO GERMANY. 
 
 COMPILED BY MARY F. DAVIS. 
 
 While the truths of the New Dispensation were 
 making rapid strides in America, thoughtful and recep¬ 
 tive minds in the Old World also felt the throbbings 
 of “ the electric chain,” and awoke to action. Two 
 noble-spirited Germans undertook the work of trans¬ 
 lating American publications of a progressive character 
 —chiefly works on the Ilarmonial Philosophy — into 
 the German language. One of them, the distinguished 
 Botanist and Philosopher, Professor Christian G. Nees 
 von Esenbeck, devoted the closing years of his life to 
 the philanthropic laboi’, which was continued by his 
 friend and pupil, Gregor Constantin Wittig, of Breslau. 
 The following are extracts from the first letter received 
 by the author from the translator:— 
 
 20 * 
 
466 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 MR. WITTIG TO A. J. DAVIS. 
 
 Breslau, June 28, I860. 
 
 Your Revelations reached me at Breslau, through a dear friend 
 and patron whom I can never forget—the President of the 
 Imperial Leopold Academy of Physicists, at Berlin—the celebrat¬ 
 ed botanist and natural philosopher, Christian G. N. Esenbeck— 
 having been sent to him, in the latter part of the year 1856, by 
 the hand of some unknown frind in Bremen. It was destined to 
 solace the last days of his laborious life with the fulfillment of his 
 anticipations and hopes for the progress of natural science and 
 the free religion of Humanity. The profound importance of 
 Magnetism, and its flower, Clairvoyance, for the future advance 
 of the mind—an importance which he had long before anticipated 
 and proclaimed—was in this work disclosed to him in all its full¬ 
 ness. Moreover, as a physician he was acquainted with your 
 Physician ; as an instructor he prized your Teacher; as a prophet 
 of a fairer future for the German people, through political and 
 religious unity, he appreciated your Seer; and his daily increas¬ 
 ing enthusiasm he shared with me, who enjoyed the confiding 
 intimacy of his last remaining days, and was his true disciple in 
 philosophy and religion. ... In the advanced years of this 
 gray-headed man of science, it had become impossible for him to 
 execute alone so great a work as the German translation of the 
 three volumes of your Great Harmonia , and he therefore chose 
 me for his assistant, and, dying, confided to me the completion 
 of the enterprise. Until the day when he retired to the couch of 
 his last sickness,with eyes dimmed with age, he labored upon his 
 portion of the sublime philosophy of God—when the Angel of 
 Death bore him to the higher vision of the Deity, on the sixteenth 
 of March, 1858. In this last period of his life, in consequence of 
 political persecution for my intercourse with the leaders of the 
 Free Religious movement in Breslau, 1 lived in banishment in the 
 town of Striegau, seven German miles from that city. 
 
 There I finished the manuscript left to my care by my friend, as 
 
APrEXDIX. 
 
 467 
 
 well ae my own translations, when, near the end of the year 1 858, 
 by marriage with a lady who is a free citizen of Breslau, I re¬ 
 gained my privilege of residence there. In my present situation, 
 as secretary of a judicial functionary, I still find leisure for the 
 performance of iny favorite and self-imposed task of translating 
 all your remaining writings, of which I may be able to become 
 the possessor. ........ 
 
 With feelings of unchangeable regard, I remain henceforth, 
 Your true and most devoted, 
 
 Gregob Constantin Wittig. 
 
 Among the friends of Spiritual Progress in New York 
 was a cultivated German, Heinrich Schlarbaum, who 
 felt a deep interest in the work of Mr. Wittig. Mr. 
 Schlarbaum corresponded directly with the translator, 
 offering his sympathy and aid, and in due time received 
 a reply from that earnest friend of truth. 
 
 MR. WITTIG’S LETTER TO II. SCHLARBAUM. 
 
 Breslau, August 10, 1862. 
 
 Esteemed Friend and Brother:— . . . Your friendly 
 
 letter has the old charm for me, as it brings me news of the 
 person who has for five years so deeply interested me, for whom 
 I have so strong a sympathy, and whose spiritual rays are destined 
 to bless all nations with light and knowledge. You are fortunate 
 that you are so near him. Do not imagine that the regard I feel 
 for him is a transient excitement, and therefore exaggerated in 
 expression. His Philosophy is that golden treasure of the 
 enchanted land of which I was wont to dream with such yearn¬ 
 ing, when a boy, among the hills of my native village, and with 
 which I longed to gladden the hearts of my poor parents. At 
 last I have found it. But I long to dispense it witn full hands to 
 
468 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 my friends and acquaintances and the German people. Of the 
 “Divine Revelations ” I have translated sections, which T have 
 styled “Cosmology” and “Geology,” and its “Principles.” 
 “The Physician,” “The Teacher,” “The Seer,” and “The Re¬ 
 former,” are translated and ready for the press. The smaller 
 works aro nearly so, viz. : “ The Philosophy of Special Provi¬ 
 dences,” and “Free Thoughts on Religion; or Nature versus 
 Theology.” The “ Chart of the Approaching Destiny of the 
 Human Race” is sketched out, and the “ Magic Staff ” begun. 
 Do you not think here is wealth to make the lasting happiness of 
 our German world? But, alas! I am in want of the gold and 
 silver in which to set my sparkling gems, and without such set¬ 
 ting I can not intrust them to the hands of others. Is it not hard 
 to think that the “ Ilarmonial Philosophy ” has been compelled 
 to go begging among German publishers for two years? But I 
 have adopted a plan which will, perhaps, meet with success. I 
 intend to prepare a Prospectus, at my own expense, of all of Mr. 
 Davis’s works which I have translated, and to circulate it among 
 all the principal establishments, through a dealer here. I may 
 thus obtain a publisher. I have also some faint hopes of making 
 a loan, that will enable me to publish them myself. This would 
 be the best plan, but it would, at the same time, be for me the 
 most difficult. Where can the generous heart be found that 
 would voluntarily tender thousands of dollars for so useful and 
 noble an enterprise! Such hearts there are, but how can they 
 be found? I would gladly renounce all reward for myself, if I 
 might but obtain a wide dissemination for these glorious truths. 
 
 September 4, 1862. 
 
 —I had written thus far, August 16, when I was prevented 
 from bringing my letter to a conclusion. I am still alone in my 
 enterprise for the publication of my translations. But the printed 
 Prospectus dispatched to you with this letter, will show you the 
 exertions I am making The time has come when I must find a 
 publisher at any cost. If I possessed the means, I would myself 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 469 
 
 have the teachings of the Harmonial Philosophy printed in 
 golden letters upon silken sheets. My views on this point I have 
 set forth at greater length in mv Prospectus, and also in an ar¬ 
 ticle for the Herald of Progress , sent with this letter to Mr. 
 Davis. It is full two years since I have written him. During 
 this period ten of his works have been translated, and the manu¬ 
 script is ready for the printer. “ The Philosophy of Spiritual 
 Intercourse” has already been taken in hand for the new series, 
 and will be ready in October. Thus I continue to labor at my 
 great and beautiful task, striving after my glorious ideal, though 
 I may never reach it. 
 
 Your valuable letter of September 3, 1860, contains so many 
 interesting particulars, that I can not but desire to hear further 
 from you. You say : “ To see the works of Davis, Edmonds, 
 Tuttle, and others, translated into German is my ardent desire ; 
 should your future labors take that direction, you may rely upon 
 my sympathy and assistance.” I accept this friendly offer, and 
 would thank you, in your next, to give me such information in 
 regard to the works mentioned as will enable me to obtain them. 
 Beside Davis’s works, I have taken up the excellent treatise of 
 Mr.Partridge on “Spiritualism,” and am not disinclined to trans¬ 
 late other good works into German, after completing those of 
 Mr. Davis. Every thing from the Beyond seems to me as home¬ 
 like as a greeting from some fairer German Fatherland. 
 
 And yet how much that is mournful has occurred within these 
 two years in your now <fis-United States! I await with trem¬ 
 bling and fearful expectation the final issue. Now, for the first 
 time, the disasters of war seem really to have fallen upon the armies 
 of the North. May the spirit of Freedom grant them the cour¬ 
 age and the power for a most glorious victory! It is for your 
 country to deal the death-blow to Slavery, and brutality, and the 
 old order of things generally. France has not sent her legions 
 to Mexico without a purpose, and if the Union fall, the new 
 French Emperor would in Europe tread us, too, beneath his feet. 
 Yet I know that the Redeemer for the people of Freedom is al¬ 
 ready born, and that he will rule over all nations! Wisdom, the 
 flower of Reason, by means of this terrible stnggle of humar 
 
470 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 passions, will prescribe the laws of her eternal state to the puri¬ 
 fied Union. Unity is the fundamental principle of all natural 
 and political life, and this unity is the Divine law of movement 
 for all struggling forces. The thought of unity with us in Ger¬ 
 many, too, is again awakened, and finds expression in the Schiller 
 and Fichte Festivals, and the Rifle and Turner Unions. Whe 
 knows what may happen here among us, even in the course of 
 one short year?.Your friend, 
 
 G. C. Wittig. 
 
 In another letter of the same date, addressed to A. 
 J. Davis, Mr. Wittig said that he had sent his Pros¬ 
 pectus to the publishing house of F. F. Weber, Leipsic, 
 and that he should continue his efforts to find a pub¬ 
 lisher. He had even taken some steps toward under¬ 
 taking the publication of the Harmonial works on his 
 own account, in the event of being disappointed in 
 all his expectations. He had sent a letter, with the 
 Prospectus, to Weber, giving a brief survey of the 
 tendency and bearings of the Harmonial Philosophy. 
 Comparing it with German speculation, he wrote:— 
 
 A new Philosophy opens its victorious career in the writings 
 of Mr. A. J. Davis, which, in the consciousness of its own har¬ 
 mony, does by no means seek to exalt itself by pride and con¬ 
 tempt over the philosophic systems of other nations, but seeks to 
 render them all fruitful, falling upon their closed calices like the 
 pollen of flowers. That this is true, that this Philosophy really 
 possesses the sublime quality of universality, is shown by its se¬ 
 vere and beautiful simplicity, and its endeavor to give to Nature, 
 Reason , and Intuition their highest scientific value, thus securing 
 to itself the stamp of the standard system for all time. In order, 
 however, to reveal this character of spiritual perfection, it was 
 necessary that its expounder should bring to bear more improved 
 
Appendix. 
 
 471 
 
 means and instruments of thought than had hitherto been within 
 the reach of philosophic minds. With the German mind, specu¬ 
 lation had already won its highest triumphs in Kant, Fichte, 
 Schelling and Hegel. The power of the merely logical faculty had 
 in the last-mentioned philosopher attained its most varied cul¬ 
 ture, and the materialism of the seuses had thus reached its 
 highest development. German speculation also had already 
 reached the limits of the profoundest problems, and the search 
 for the interior essence of things — the so-called things in them¬ 
 selves — had been pushed to the utmost in their investigations. 
 But the speculation of logic and the senses could not pass its own 
 sensuous limit; it was like the unarmed eye, to which the won¬ 
 ders of the universe, of great and little magnitudes, that are uu- 
 vailed only by the telescope and microscope, remained concealed 
 from deficiency of vision and a lack of the power of discrimina¬ 
 tion. 
 
 This philosophic telescope and microscope of a faculty that 
 penetrates the innermost being , deeper than the senses, is now 
 found in the gift of magnetic clairvoyance , and in that spiritually- 
 perfect rational intuition and illumination which have raised 
 the author of the works named to be the philosophical Gallileo 
 
 of our day.These books form, as it were, a new 
 
 Gospel of Wisdom , the teachings of which will be seized upon 
 with avidity, and even with transport; for they are addressed to 
 the most interior and secret thoughts and emotions of the human 
 mind, and stir with quiet power that endless yearning for knowl¬ 
 edge, which we see so gloriously embodied in Goethe's “Faust.” 
 
 Responsive to the enthusiasm of his gifted country¬ 
 man, and inspired with like ardor in the service of 
 Truth, Mr. Schlarbaum wrote the following timely ap¬ 
 peal, which was published in the Herald of Progress :— 
 
172 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 MR. SCHLARBAUM’S LETTER TO A. J. DAVIS. 
 
 New York, September 26 , 1862 . 
 
 Dear Sir: — I have translated for yon the letters of Mr. Wittig. 
 He is full of energy for a good cause. Our duty, it seems to me. 
 would be to take hold of the facts as they present themselves, 
 and make the best out of them for the good of our German 
 brethren. Wittig is thoroughly imbued with the importance of 
 your writings. And the opposition he everywhere meets has 
 made him earnest and anxious. ..... 
 
 Two years ago, when I got the first letter from Wittig, the 
 thought struck me that the dissemination of works like yours 
 should not be made to depend on the motives of mere tradesmen ; 
 the society of generous Americans should lend a helping hand, 
 and bless the rising and future generations with them. Human¬ 
 ity needs it. 
 
 I think your Herald should lay the matter before American 
 men of Progress. Let an “ European Publishing Association ” for 
 these works be formed; let its committee regulate and prepare 
 matters; let a call for means—$1,000 to $1,500 is enough to be¬ 
 gin with—go through the world ; let us do our best; then the 
 poor, hard-working Wittig can be assisted just in such a way as 
 
 will serve best for a happy issue.It is admitted 
 
 that one-quarter of our army is of German descent! Much hard, 
 bloody work, is done by the immigrated people; let us, therefore, 
 make a glorious gift to that freedom-loving nation—the people 
 of Germany. 
 
 Truly yours, 
 
 H. SoHLARBAUM. 
 
 In accordance with the suggestion an informal meet¬ 
 ing was held in New York, and a committee was 
 chosen, of which the members were William Green, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 473 
 
 Eliza W. Farnhara, Mary F. Davis, H. Schlarbaum, 
 and C. M. Plumb. A Circular was issued, asking con- 
 tributions to “ The European Harmonial Publishing 
 Fund,” which, in addition to the appeals of the 
 Herald, was circulated far and wide among American 
 Spiritualists. Tidings of the movement brought re¬ 
 sponsive words from progressive Germans in our midst; 
 and, among others, the following communication found 
 way to the editorial sanctum :— 
 
 LETTER FROM DR. PHILIP SCHULHOF.* 
 
 New Yoke, March 30, 1863. 
 
 A. J. Davis—Dear Sir : — My heart leaps for joy, for I see in 
 the Herald of Progress, of March 28, an article headed: “The 
 European Harmonial Publishing Fund.” My soul responds in 
 anticipation of the diffusion of light and happiness by means of 
 publishing a translation of the works of Mr. A. J. Davis, and 
 other Spiritual writings, by Herr G. C. Wittig, of Breslau, Ger¬ 
 many, a gentleman of enthusiasm, love, and knowledge. 
 
 I see already not only the millions of inhabitants of Germany, 
 but also the German population of our beloved United States, 
 and of every inhabited part of this globe, imbibing the principles 
 of the Harmonial Philosophy, through the simple medium of lay¬ 
 ing before them these very principles in their native tongue, and 
 such teachings will obtain an easy entrance into their hearts, as 
 they are mostly prepared for the reception of truth. 
 
 I am able to testify from my experience that Germans, as a 
 whole, are industrious, sober, honest, charitable, freo from bigot¬ 
 ry, cheerful, and art and science-loving. See their May-feasts, 
 Sangerbunds, Turner Societies, and Operas. Song, music, gym- 
 
 * This spiritual-minded and steadfast friend of the Harmonial 
 Philosophy, passed on to his home in the Summer Land, in June, 1867. 
 He was a cordial supporter of, and leader in, the Children’s Progressiva 
 Lyceum of New York. 
 
474 
 
 APPKNDIX. 
 
 nasties, and order prevail tliere. They not only practice, but 
 love science, art, music, and, above all, liberty and full freedom 
 of thought. They will and do fight for it. They showed their 
 appreciation of human rights in emancipating the women—their 
 mothers, wives, and daughters—from the thralldorn of slavery, at 
 a time of barbaric darkness. At a time when the most enlight¬ 
 ened nations of the world lived in bigamy, the followers of 
 Herman would not countenance the multiplicity of wives. 
 
 Volumes could be written on this subject, but I can not tres¬ 
 pass on your time and patience to indulge in further elucidations 
 in respect to the German nation, since all of this is known to you 
 as well. 
 
 But of one thing I am certain, and that is, the great monu¬ 
 mental benefit such a publication will be to the progress of the 
 people of America; for there are multitudes of Germans living in 
 this country who will, with open hearts, accept any thing good 
 coming from the beloved Fatherland. Why? It is recognized 
 by German scientific men and published by celebrated book-sell¬ 
 ing houses there; wherefore they will put more trust in it, and 
 consequently read it. And how vastly will our dear country 
 gain by the awakening of such an increase of Spiritual elements, 
 which at present lie hidden and latent, scarcely perceived or sup¬ 
 posed, in those hearts, an inheritance from their ancestors. But 
 yon can see its manifestations in their tenderness of feeling, hos¬ 
 pitality, and kind friendship. Oh ! what a foundation for Harmo- 
 nial development! Therefore, I do wish you God speed. Go on; 
 arouse our friends and brothers in Progress; have them con¬ 
 tribute their material aid ; it requires but a little money to effect 
 such a great and sublime end. 
 
 I, for one, do pledge my hearty co-operation as far as my means 
 will allow, and when we unitedly put our shoulders to the wheel 
 success will crown the effort, and happiness be diffused over the 
 world at large. 
 
 I see by intuition how this New Dispensation spreads like 
 wildfire over the continent of Europe, from plain to hill, from 
 hill to mountain, there to shine as a beacon to the world. It 
 spreads from the Hartz to the Alps—over the Giant Mountain to 
 
APPKNDIX. 
 
 475 
 
 the Carpats—and a host of warriors for the truth it will awaken 
 from their slumbers, and rouse laborers in the vineyard of Har¬ 
 mony by thousands and hundreds of thousands. Wherefore my 
 heart rejoices, and I thank you for the taking in hand of such an 
 important enterprise as the support and aid of publishing Spirit¬ 
 ual writings in the German tongue. 
 
 Yours, for Progress, 
 
 I)r. Ph. Schuliiof. 
 
 Encouraging words came also from many warm and 
 earnest American hearts, accompanied, in some in¬ 
 stances, by contributions for the work. Hudson Tuttle, 
 who had dune noble service in the production and dis¬ 
 semination of spiritual literature, and whose “Arcana” 
 was already translated into German, wrote a letter to 
 the Banner of Light , urging Spiritualists to give 
 their aid and influence to the good cause. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM HUDSON TUTTLE’S LETTER. 
 
 Walnut-Grove Farm, April 12, 1863. 
 
 The German world is as yet almost ignorant of the blessed 
 literature of Spiritualism. They are only acquainted with the 
 physical phenomena, and but partially even with them. The first 
 volume of the Arcana was the first ray of light they received. 
 It was not, however, published ostensibly as a spiritual work, but 
 as a new and scientific exposition of the system of Nature, and 
 was in this manner, and by the high standing of its translator, 
 borne into favor. 
 
 It is now proposed to raise a fund by which the glorious writ¬ 
 ings of Davis and others can be at once presented to the thinkers 
 of Germany. The Germans are proverbial for their belief in 
 spiritual mysteries, and for a century have been laying the founda¬ 
 tions of Spiritualism. There is no doubt if the new philosophy 
 
476 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 is presented to them, they will seize it with avidity, and tha 
 greatest good will grow out of it.. 
 
 The directors of the movement are men noble and generous, 
 who have their whole hearts in the glorious work, and will at 
 once receive the entire confidence of the friends of the cause. 
 Than H. Sehlarbaum, a more devoted Spiritualist, a more generous 
 and noble-souled man, does not exist. A German, he has the 
 deep spiritual nature of the Teuton, sharpened and Americanized 
 by a long residence in our country. He has not, however, for¬ 
 gotten Germany and the millions of brothers he has left, and 
 with an energy and devotion worthy of the object, he has de¬ 
 termined to send light into their darkness. 
 
 The eminent scholar, Herr Wittig, with indefatigable industry, 
 has translated all of Davis’s works, and is now going on trans¬ 
 lating other works on Spiritualism. Patiently he awaits the 
 response of the New World, asking no other pay for his labor 
 but the diffusion of the truths he so dearly loves. 
 
 Personally, I have no interest at stake; but as a believer in 
 the Divine Philosophy of spiritual intercourse, I can but feel 
 deeply anxious for the success of this movement, which I con¬ 
 sider of more consequence than all the tracts and bibles dis¬ 
 tributed to the heathen for the last hundred years—of more 
 consequence, because a great and enlightened nation are to be 
 convinced and brought to the knowledge of the light. It is not 
 savages whom we wish to enlighten, savages who are not as well 
 off with a book as a fishing-net, but a nation of the deepest 
 thinkers, the most scientific and spiritual of the Old World. 
 
 Hudson Tuttle. 
 
 While these events were transpiring in America, in 
 spirations were ripening to purposes in a European 
 mind, which were destined to bring great results. In 
 distant Russia, a lonely student, “ a child of that great 
 Slavonian race, which is so highly distinguished for 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 477 
 
 its mystical tendencies, and its fondness for spiritual 
 facts and questions,” was earnestly seeking avenues for 
 the promulgation of spiritual truth, and longing for 
 association with kindred minds. This was Alexander 
 Aksakof, a nobleman of St. Petersburg. Tiie following 
 letter, which failed of its destination, but of which a 
 copy has been lately received, will show better than 
 any description some of the beautiful qualities and 
 divine impulses of this truth-inspired nature :— 
 
 LETTER FROM ALEXANDER AKSAKOF. 
 
 Moscow, April 12, 1864. 
 
 Mr. Andrew Jackson Davis:— 
 
 My Weli.-beloved Brother and Friend:— You wish to ob¬ 
 tain the name, residence, and occupation of every individual who 
 identifies himself, in public and practice, witli the cause of spir¬ 
 itual and material progress. (Progressive Annual, 1862, page 43.) 
 
 I could not satisfy your demand before, for I obtained that 
 Annual only in January, 1864. Since my youth, I always felt 
 attracted to researches of truth concerning the internal nature of 
 man ; or, in other words, Philosophy and Theology were studies of 
 my decided predilection. In 1831, at nineteen years of age, having 
 completed my studies at the Imperial Lyceum, at St. Petersburg, 
 I became acquainted with the doctrines of Swedenborg, your 
 guide and friend in the spirit-world. Dazzled by the light of his 
 writings, and young yet, I accepted his doctrines with grateful 
 enthusiasm, for they were to me the highest expression of re¬ 
 ligion. To perfect myself in the science of correspondences, 1 
 studied Hebrew, occupying myself afterward to read the internal, 
 spiritual sense of the Evangel of St. John. A work resulting 
 therefrom was published in 1864, at Leipsic, under the title : 
 “ Five Chapters of the Evangel of St. John, with an Exposition of 
 the Spiritual Sense, accor.ling to the Science of Correspondences.” 
 
 But the study of Hebrew was only a philosophical recreation, 
 
478 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 but no progress; and the more I advanced in the exegesis of St. 
 John, the more weaknesses I perceived ; that is to say, the pov¬ 
 erty and arbitrariness of the internal sense by correspondences 
 became more and more apparent. Following my researches in 
 the domain of unknown forces in Nature, I occupied myself with 
 assiduity in homeopathy and magnetism, and in order to use to 
 better advantage the attained convictions, I studied medicine and 
 kindred sciences. At this time, I translated into Russian the 
 “ Magneto-therapy ” of Count Szapary, which was published at 
 St. Petersburg, in 1860. 
 
 The great news of the facts of American Spiritualism did not 
 fiud me skeptical or indifferent. Notwithstanding the difficulties 
 caused by the Russian Censure, I obtained the majority of the 
 books and journals that treated of the great question. I read 
 the “Principles of Nature” in 1855, and afterward all your 
 other works as fast as I obtained them. I enjoyed with delight 
 the perfume of truth. I had loved Swedenborg. I had much 
 studied him. I had made him disciples that became my friends. 
 But in proportion as I studied your writings the weak sides of 
 his doctrines came more and more to light; by degrees the rest 
 of religious dogmatism left me, and to-day I belong with body 
 and soul to Spiritualism and the Harmonial Philosophy. 
 
 After ten years of study I got ready for the work. But how 
 was I to act? What was to be done? You know that we have 
 here no freedom of the press—no public speech ! 
 
 In 1860, I made a voyage to Paris. I hastened to make the 
 acquaintance of the French Spiritualists, but found myself greatly 
 disappointed. The accredited system was the Spiritism of Mr. 
 Kardec, that teaches the reincarnation of the soul. Their re¬ 
 searches went more after facts than for doctrine; and respecting 
 the things that transpired outside of France, they were simply not 
 informed. Poverty in facts, in science, and in ideas—this is what 
 I found in Paris. They knew your name, it is true, but no¬ 
 body had read your works. I knew that their translation in 
 Russian was forbidden at home, but as French books can circu¬ 
 late there with more facility, I resolved to publish in Paris a 
 French translation of your works. Popularizing your doctrines in 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 479 
 
 France, I expected to transplant them to my own country. I 
 found a good translator, but could not procure a single copy of 
 the works, either in Paris or in London! I had to return to 
 Russia, finding myself compelled to abandon my project. At the 
 present time, Miss Guerin, in Paris, and Mr. Petters, at Frond, 
 in Belgium, are occupied in translating yon into French. 
 
 After my return to Russia, I resolved to print a Russian trans¬ 
 lation that I had made of Swedenborg’s “ Heaven and Hell.” 
 This being a very systematic and nearly orthodox book, I thought 
 it useful to serve as a transition to the novel ideas. The book 
 was published, 1863, in Leipsic, with a preface that contained a 
 rapid glance at Spiritualism and its doctrines. I presented Swe¬ 
 denborg in it, not as the founder of a Church, but as a Spiritual¬ 
 ist and medium. Among other things, I said in that Preface, 
 “that modern facts have proved the truth, though relatively, of 
 his revelations to the world, and therefore his work, ‘Heaven 
 and Hell,’ can be read to-day with so much the more confidence 
 and profit.” You must remember that the works of Swedenborg 
 are forbidden here. My translation experienced the same fate. 
 It circulates through my hands, but the public at large can not 
 obtain it. Tbe printing of the work has, therefore, not given me 
 any result whatever. Its Preface directed against me the most 
 violent recriminations from the small number of New Jerusalem¬ 
 ites that live here, who did imagine that I had thrown stones 
 against Swedenborg; that I had poisoned his book; that I gave 
 myself over to Satan, &c.; and some that called themselves 
 my friends did abandon me. I had to endure, in the circle of my 
 intimate affections, very painful sacrifices. 
 
 During this winter, I have written a critique of Swedenborg’s 
 system. In the shape of objections and contradictions, I have 
 exposed not only the weak sides of his doctrines respecting the 
 origin of evil and the freedom of man, but also the internal 
 sense of the word as a proof of his divine inspiration. By this 
 means I hope to revive the research for truth. If the disciples 
 of Swedenborg begin to doubt the infallibility of their master, 
 they may, perhaps, leave that enchanting circle which blocks up 
 their intellectual progress and leads them to fanaticis n. But as 
 
4S0 
 
 ATPKNDIX. 
 
 tliis critique is but, a polemical work, it is only negative, and can 
 not produce much positive good. A system can only be assailed 
 by a system, and evil should be overcome by good. 
 
 In view of all this the translation of your writings into Rus- 
 sian has the greatest interest for me. You know that Russia 
 is just now on the highway to reform, and we may soon 
 get even the freedom of the Press! (Remark in 1867: this 
 hope has not been realized.) The materialism of the German 
 school, preached by Yoigt and Buckner, makes, under the garb 
 of science, rapid progress here. Lately the English book— 
 “ Vestiges of Creation ”—has been translated into Russian. I 
 will try to use it as a kind of pedestal to introduce the translation 
 of the “Principles of Nature.” Next winter I expect to go to 
 work. Meanwhile the publication of your works in French or 
 German is of equal interest to me. In the Annual of 1863, you 
 say, page 74, “ Several volumes of the Harmonial Philosophy 
 have been already translated in Germany, and await the advent 
 of a publisher.” Inform me of the name and address of the 
 translator, and I will immediately open correspondence with him, 
 proposing with pleasure to be the editor of his translations. It 
 is partly this news that prompted me to address you to-day. The 
 Revue Spirite of 1861, page 153, announces nearly the same fact, 
 naming Mr. Wittig, of Breslau. I have written under that direc¬ 
 tion, but no such person has been found. Mr. Hornung (who 
 wrote the German book, “New Secrets of the Day,” on Spiritu¬ 
 alism) whom I saw in Berlin, in 1862, and who died since, could 
 not tell me any thing positive respecting a German translation of 
 your works. 
 
 In general, Spiritualism is very little known in Russia. The few 
 that claim it received it as the Spiritism of Kardec, which fact 
 explains itself, as the French literature being so poor on the sub¬ 
 ject leaves only the books of Kardec. I am not aware of a 
 single person here who occupies himself with Spiritualism as a 
 means of reform and progress. From the bookstores of Moscow 
 and St. Petersburg I know that I am the only person that re¬ 
 ceived your books and others of the spiritualistic literature of 
 America. Thus in tins immense country I am alone stulying 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 481 
 
 and loving your doctrines—alone in this large field of labor, 
 hoping for better days when freedom of press and speech shall 
 prevail. ........ 
 
 You will greatly oblige me by answering this in the columns 
 of the Herald ; but not being very sure of always receiving it, it 
 would make me very happy indeed to have your direct answer. 
 I thank you from the deptli of my soul for all the good, moral 
 and intellectual, that you have done me, and for the freedom 
 that I attained through you. I greet you as a brother and friend. 
 
 Alexander Aksakof. 
 
 Unfortunately, as tlie above communication mis¬ 
 carried, the writer was for two years longer baffled in 
 his efforts to find the devoted Wittig. At last, how¬ 
 ever, the following letter reached the translator, and 
 opened the way to welcome association, mutual interest, 
 and joint fraternal labors for the advancement and ele¬ 
 vation of Humanity:— 
 
 FROM ALEXANDER AKSAKOF TO CL 0. WITTIG. 
 
 Dresden, Saxony, January 15, I860. 
 
 Dear Sir: —From the Journal Psyche, edited by Dr. C. A. Ber- 
 thelen, at Zettau, a German publication devoted to science and 
 spiritual knowledge, and from the editor’s letters to me, I learn 
 that you have translated three volumes of A. J. Davis’s “ Great 
 Harmonia,” without finding a publisher for them. 
 
 l am a Russian Spiritualist, and an admirer of Mr. Davis’s 
 writings. I perceive with great satisfaction that Germany will 
 soon have facilities for becoming acquainted with the Philosophy 
 of Spiritualism. Please inform me what you have already trans¬ 
 lated, what you are going to take in hand, and what the prospects 
 of publication are. I am connected with the publisher, Franz 
 21 
 
482 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Wagner, in Leipsic, who issued my Russian translation of 
 Swedenborg’s “Heaven and Hell,”in 1863, and will shortly pub¬ 
 lish my translations of Hare’s and Edmonds’s works. It might 
 be arranged that Mr. Wagner would also publish your transla¬ 
 tions. Please inform me what conditions you propose for it. 
 Inform me, also, respecting Professor Nees von Esenbeck, who 
 translated, with you, some of Mr. Davis’s writings. Have you 
 the third volume of “Great Hannonia,” the “Seei - ,” completely 
 and literally translated, or merely parts of it? Expecting your 
 earliest answer, 
 
 I remain, with much esteem, 
 
 A. Aksakof. 
 
 New hope thrilled the heart of the translator on the 
 reception of this letter. He had placed the precious 
 manuscripts, over which he had so long and patiently 
 toiled, in the hands of a publisher. But the results of 
 red-handed war were pressing on the American people. 
 Contributions for the “ European Publishing Fund ” 
 came in slowly, and enthusiasm declined when the 
 TIerald of Progress was no more. Then came from a 
 distant, despotic realm, a liberty-loving, truth-adoring 
 Brother, who, in the spirit of noblest beneficence, 
 pledged his pecuniary aid for the publishing of all the 
 German translations ! Alexander Aksakof became the 
 bosom friend and wise counselor of the loving-hearted, 
 noble-minded Wittig. The manuscripts were rescued, 
 much defaced and mutilated, from the publishing office 
 where first deposited, revised, and placed in the hands 
 of Franz Wagner, of Leipsic, Mr. Aksakofs faithful 
 publisher. 
 
 In the Religio-Philosophical Journal of August 4, 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 483 
 
 1866, appeared the following communication from Mr. 
 Sclilarbaum, announcing these changes and encourag¬ 
 ing prospects:— 
 
 MR. SOHLARBAUM’S REPORT. 
 
 Many of your readers will remember the attempt made in 1862, 
 by the Herald of Progress , to raise funds for the publication of 
 Harmonial works in German. A number of noble souls responded 
 to the calls made, and contributions were handed over to the 
 Treasurer of the German Publishing Fund, by which the committee 
 was enabled to assist the translator of Mr. A. J. Davis’s works in his 
 arduous labors. The amounts raised were not sufficient, however, 
 to go forward very energetically, mainly, perhaps, on account of 
 our war, which disheartened and encumbered so many of us; and 
 when, finally, the Herald of Progress was discontinued, the Fund 
 lost its organ, and the committee was compelled to restrict its 
 labors to what little it could do. All the funds, however, have 
 been sacredly devoted to the ends contemplated by the donors. 
 Encouraged and strengthened by the assistance from America, Mr. 
 Wittig, in Breslau, in Prussia, the translator, has persevered in 
 his exertions for the good cause. lie has lately had the good 
 fortune to become acquainted with a Russian gentleinanof wealth 
 and distinction, a true nobleman, who could not help making the 
 Harmonial Philosophy his own in word and action, and with his 
 munificent help the publication of all of Davis’s works seems 
 now to be secured to the German nation. The first eight 
 proof sheets of the fourth volume (The Reformer) of the Great 
 Harmonia, printed at Leipsic, by Wagner, are in my hands. Our 
 German friends concluded to begin with this fourth volume, as 
 being better calculated to secure the attention of the German people. 
 “The Magic Staff,” adorned with Mr. Davis’s steel engraving, the 
 ‘‘Divine Revelations of Nature,” and all the other parts of the 
 “Great Harmonia,” will follow in quick succession, being ready 
 for the printer these last three years. Steps are now being 
 taken to secure the extensive sale of this German edition here. 
 If many educated Germans residing among us felt attracted to 
 
484 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 the principles of the Harraonial Pliilosopliy, even if presented to 
 them in the dress of the English language, the ability to bring it 
 home to their searching minds in their own mother tongue will 
 greatly facilitate the widest dissemination of it. The peculiar 
 organization of the German book-trade will serve a like end. 
 All the publishers in the “ Fatherland ” are united in a certain 
 manner, and whatever book is published in any large or small 
 German city is sent broadcast all over the land “for inspection,” 
 and finds its way to the study of every inquiring mind, before 
 even a purchase of the book is made. This German publication 
 will do a great deal for the proper appreciation of Ilarmonial 
 views in Europe; and just now, this time of commotion, war, 
 and future reconstruction, seems to be the best moment for it. 
 
 II. SonLAKBAUM. 
 
 It is with wonder and admiration that we trace the 
 life-lines of these two European Reformers, now united 
 to the vanguard of Progress in this country by all 
 spiritual and imperishable ties. Each struggled in 
 loneliness for many years, hemmed in by obstacles that 
 would have been insurmountable to any but heroic 
 souls. To both Heaven sent an inestimable blessing in 
 the sympathy, kindred faith, and loving co-operation 
 of those who bear the sacred name of wife; but aside 
 from that, each toiled on in utter social isolation, until 
 the happy moment came which united their lofty en¬ 
 deavors. We who have the utmost freedom of expres¬ 
 sion by tongue and pen; who have unlimited access to 
 books, periodicals, and free platforms; who have the 
 advantage of gathering en masse for free Conventions; 
 and who enjoy the high privilege of social converse 
 with multitudes possessing kindred ideas and faith, may 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 485 
 
 well summon our powers anew when we behold the 
 moral energy, love, patience, trust, and devotion of 
 these transatlantic brethren under the weight of social 
 and governmental restrictions. The following letter, 
 received during the past year, shows the present animus 
 of the movement:— 
 
 ALEXANDER AKSAKOF TO A. J. DAYIS. 
 
 No. 6 Nevsky Prospect, 
 
 St. Petersburg, October 13, 1867. 
 
 Beloved Brother and Friend:— I am happy that I have now 
 a letter from you, doubly happy at the idea that it will not be the 
 last one, and that a more or less animated correspondence may 
 be established between us. All my past efforts to reach you 
 have failed. In 1858 I wrote you my first letter, dated from 
 Nizney Novgorod; in 18G4 I dated my second from Moscow, and 
 here now I am writing my third, which I am sure will reach you 
 sooner or later. 
 
 Your letter of July 26, N. Y., reached me September 16, 
 nearly on the borders of Asia, at the village of Alexfindrofka 
 (Government of Samara, near the city of Boogoolma), where, 
 having an estate, I ordinarily spend my summers. I did not 
 come home to St. Petersburg till September 30, which explains 
 the lateness of my answer. Now, my friend, as my words finally 
 have reached you, let me press you to my heart; let me thank 
 you from the bottom of my soul for the good that you have done 
 me. You have made me free in the whole immense signification 
 of this word, by teaching me how I was not free. You have 
 taught me to make my peace with myself and my fellow-man. You 
 made it impossible for me to complain against Providence, by 
 giving me an understanding of the stern justice of the cause and 
 its effect. I learned from you what evil is, and how to enjoy the 
 present day. I have experienced heavenly joys and earthly griefs 
 also. After many temptations and defeats, happy days, days of 
 
486 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 glory have come; and Truth, after having commenced on me 
 its work of redemption, brings me every day new joys and conso¬ 
 lations. 
 
 As Swedenborg had formerly effected his work of intellectual 
 and moral emancipation in me—having translated his works, 
 prompted by a feeling of deep thankfulness and an ardent desire 
 to let all humanity participate in the boon of possessing truth—so 
 it is in the present days. While, to my present convictions, the 
 Ilarmonial Philosophy comes nearest to the truth, I feel myself 
 prompted by the same desire to return my tribute of thankfulness 
 by disseminating its teachings, if not in my own country, at least 
 among another European people. I try to be free from illu¬ 
 sions. I do not expect to see, while I live here, that enthusiasm 
 in others which I have for the source of happiness—the adequate 
 solution of the profoundest aspirations of my soul. I know very 
 well that the negative side of your teachings may not be quite 
 new for the German rationalist, while the positive side of them, 
 connecting the external intuition with the internal, and thus re¬ 
 constructing a system of natural religion that might be called a 
 spiritualistic rationalism, will be treated by men of scienco with 
 sarcasm and disdain, almost as if they were offended by speaking 
 of their own immortality. But this does not intimidate me. 
 Happily we have to do, not alone with men of science, but with 
 men in general; we offer them not a new science alone, but a new 
 life; and if among them there is found one single soul that 
 understands and heeds your writings—a soul that derives the 
 same amount of good from them as I have done, and is thus born 
 to new life, my efforts will be amply rewarded, and I shall have 
 tno consolation of not having been ego'iste in my happiness. 
 
 No, my friend, I will not hesitate to pursue the work that we 
 have begun. What is commenced we expect to finish at an early 
 day; for, although yet young, my health is not firm, and I dis¬ 
 like to close my existence here without the conviction of having 
 been of some good on earth. . . . ... 
 
 It is sad, that, in serving the cause of Spiritualism and the 
 Harmonial Philosophy, I have to operate on a foreign soil. All 
 that treats of Spiritualism, including your works, is proscribed 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 487 
 
 here; the books of Kardec alone enjoy an exception. Thus all 
 niy efforts in this line are in vain. But I do not lose courage. I 
 understand very well that the state of affairs in Russia does not 
 accord with the publication of the religious and philosophical 
 works of Spiritualism. As a movement of general reform it is 
 too radical; it can only have its right “ to be ” in a free country. 
 Our public press, and speech, and action, being under the control 
 of the Government, it can not take root, nor have any effect 
 whatsoever. I submit to these circumstances, seeing clearly 
 that it would be labor lost to act in opposition to the conditions 
 of time. 
 
 But there is no reason, I think, why the phenomenal part of 
 Spiritualism should remain unknown. The sensuous demonstra¬ 
 tion of the immortality of the human soul, this decisive victory 
 won over materialism, is a fact that can not but do service to any 
 Christian doctrine. From this point of view, I will continue to 
 battle against all opposition, using every effort to give the de¬ 
 served publicity at least to the facts of Spiritualism. After the 
 defense of the doctrine, the history of the doctrine can and 
 should be known also. 
 
 In 1805, I laid before the public censors the manuscript of my 
 translation of the experimental part of Prof. Hare’s work, but 
 they forbade the printing of it. In 1800, I had it printed at 
 Leipsic, in Germany, and did all that lay in my power to enter it 
 into the Russian book-trade, but all in vain. They found in it a 
 few sentences which Russian Orthodoxy could not tolerate. But 
 I will repeat my efforts with Hare’s, Edmonds’s, and De Mor¬ 
 gan’s works, taking care to dwell strictly on facts, without en 
 tering at all the domain of doctrine. 
 
 Do you approve, dear friend, my reasoning and projects? 
 Could you advise me how to serve our cause in any other way in 
 a country that is strictly orthodox, and void of all public free¬ 
 dom ? What I painfully regret, besides, is that I am quite alone 
 here in my interest for Spiritualism and its works. We have, it 
 is true, a small number of Spiritists, of A. Kardec’s school, but 
 I am very little acquainted with them, and, besides, Spiritism dif¬ 
 fers from Spiritualism, and still more from the Ilarmonial Philoso- 
 
488 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 phy. Among the members of that circle, I met but one person 
 who reads and understands English. What chances, then, are 
 left me to be united with others, or to live and act in this com¬ 
 munity, while all my interests concentrate in the grand move¬ 
 ment of universal reform in America? Among men of science, 
 I know only the Professor of Philosophy of the University of 
 Moscow, who is interested in the subject. He understands the 
 whole bearing of this Spiritualistic movement, and takes the 
 aiost lively interest in the publication of your works, being fully 
 .mpressed with their full value. He is the only person with 
 whom I may seriously speak on the subject, and yet, all he has 
 read is the “Reformer,” in German. .... 
 
 Accept, my friend, the sentiments of deep gratitude, esteem, 
 and affection, which unite me to you. 
 
 Alexander Aksakof. 
 
 The “ Reformer” and the “ Magic Staff” have been 
 issued in excellent style, in the German language, by 
 the enterprising publisher, Wagner; and Mr. Wittig 
 writes, under date of December, 1867, from St. Peters¬ 
 burg, where he was enjoying a visit with Mr. Aksakof: 
 “ With the greatest satisfaction I am enabled to send 
 you the joyful news that the munificence of our friend 
 will help along the publication of ‘ISTature’s Divine 
 Revelations’ in such a wise, that the printing will 
 begin soon after my return.” The Spiritualists of 
 America will enshrine in their heart of hearts the 
 names of those who have proclaimed to the German 
 nation the “glad tidings of great joy,” thus opening 
 for the European continent the golden gateway tc 
 Light, Love, Wisdom, and Liberty. 
 
 THE END.