The conclusion drawn by the committee from these mixed results was that sounds and movement of objects did occur without having been produced by muscular or mechanical action, and the ability to spell out answers to questions showed that the phenomena were directed by an intelligence.
Further reports revealed that while many members of the society suspected fraud they had been unable to offer any proof. This was unsurprising since once an observer was suspected of being a sceptic who was bent on exposing imposture, the false medium, on being alerted to the danger, quickly arranged matters so as to avoid detection. This was done in a number of ways, the simplest being to produce no phenomena at the séance and then announce that his or her powers were exhausted that day, or that the spirits were being capricious, or even attributing the failure to a hostile influence in the circle. The hostile influence was of course the sceptic, who was thereafter persona non grata in the company, since both the medium and the circle of believers would not want that person disrupting their sittings in future.
It was with particular interest, and some amusement, that Mina read a letter written by the chairman of the Dialectical Society’s special committee, a Dr James Edmunds. Fending off earnest attempts by spiritualists to persuade him that he himself could be a powerful medium if he would only open his eyes and recognise the fact, he remained unconvinced by the committee’s conclusions, and had submitted his personal observations.
In May 1868 Dr Edmunds had attended a public exhibition at St George’s Hall, London, given by the Davenport brothers, Americans who were touring England giving demonstrations of phenomena which they attributed to spirits but which many who had seen their performances had denounced as little more than clever, albeit entertaining, conjuring. Mina recalled the Davenports’ tour, which had been widely reported and discussed in the London newspapers. The two young men had a large wooden cabinet specially constructed for their performances, which they carried about with them on their tour. Volunteers from the audience were first invited to make a thorough examination of the apparatus, after which two chairs were placed inside the cabinet, to which the brothers were securely bound. A collection of musical instruments, such as tambourines, bells, violins and guitars, joined them in the cabinet and the door was closed. Almost at once the instruments produced a perfect babel of sound, while spirit arms and hands were seen protruding through an overhead aperture. Every so often the door of the cabinet burst violently open and an instrument was tossed out on to the floor. Their most remarkable feat used a coat borrowed from a member of the audience, which was placed inside the cabinet and was later found on the person of one of the brothers, yet when they were examined after the performance the knots and ligatures were found to be as sound and tight as before.
Dr Edmunds was unable to explain away what he had seen that night, which had involved flying violins and the use of his own coat in the famous trick. Later the same month he was invited to attend a private séance, which was to be followed by the Davenports giving their acclaimed cabinet performance. Edmunds, though a natural sceptic, determined to approach the evening with an open mind, anticipating that in a private room he would have a better opportunity to observe and investigate the phenomena. Perhaps his reputation had preceded him, or the company was wary of any newcomer, for when the sitters were conducted to their places he found himself at a large round table that had been pushed close to a corner of the room so trapping him in his place. Had he been inclined to slip off his shoes and creep silently about the darkened room looking for evidence of imposture, something he had thought of doing, he would have been quite unable to do so. The part of the table towards the centre of the room, and thus allowing sitters free movement, was, he noticed, occupied by avowed spiritualists. Edmunds wisely decided not to protest about this arrangement in case he was held to be hostile, in which case he felt sure that no phenomena would occur.
The sitting proceeded in complete darkness for some little time. A few raps were heard but nothing of note occurred, and the company was finding the occasion somewhat disappointing, when it was decided to try and obtain a spirit drawing. The gas was relit and a portfolio case was placed on the table and opened to demonstrate that it contained nothing but a sheet of plain paper, then the case was closed again and a pencil placed nearby. The gas was about to be turned out when Edmunds suggested to a friend, who was also a newcomer to the gathering, that as a further test they should first initial the paper. He opened the case and saw that the paper was not, as he had at first supposed, a plain quarto sheet but a much larger sheet that had been folded. On unfolding it he saw on the interior of one flap a detailed pencil drawing of an angel. He tore off the portion with the drawing and he and his friend wrote on the remaining part of the sheet, which was returned to the case. The gas was turned off and he heard the sound of loud rustling, which led him to suspect that one of the spiritualists at the table had opened the case, and was handling the paper. When the gas was relit there were only a few ambiguous marks on the sheet and the test was declared to be a failure. The spirits, it was explained, were ‘capricious’. The sitters were not wholly disappointed by the séance, however, for a basket of fresh flowers was then produced under cover of darkness, which a Mrs Guppy claimed had flown through the walls but which Edmunds thought had travelled from no greater distance than the sideboard. Dr Edmunds was by now finding himself unable to conceal the fact that he thought the whole performance was a deception and was unsurprised to be told soon afterwards that the Davenports would not be performing their miracles as they had no spiritual power that evening.
A Mr Samuel Guppy had later written to the committee to deny that Dr Edmunds’s account was correct, but a diligent search through the papers enabled Mina to establish not only that Mr Guppy was the husband of Mrs Guppy but that he was an ardent spiritualist, and his wife professed to be a powerful medium who could shower her devotees with fresh flowers, and even rise up and fly about the room.
Other exhibitions carefully observed by the tireless Dr Edmunds had attributed the sound of spirit raps to nothing more supernatural than the medium’s foot. He concluded that during all his investigations he had never seen anything that could not be accounted for by unconscious action, delusion or imposture.
There were other statements in the report, some from gentlemen convinced of the reality of what they had observed, and some from those who felt sure that they had observed something of note but did not believe that spirits of the dead were directing events. The consensus, if such a mixture of differing opinions could be termed such, was that there was something occurring which was worthy of further cautious investigation, a conclusion with which Mina could only agree. She would not wish to prejudge the outcome of such an investigation, but her own feeling was that she was more inclined to believe that a bunch of flowers could be carried across a room by human hands than fly through a wall by spirit power. If that made her a sceptic or even a materialist then so be it.
The difficult question was what she should do next. On the one hand she could not begrudge her mother the pleasure and diversion she gained from the gatherings with Miss Eustace, but on the other it seemed to her that there was a very real possibility that Miss Eustace was a criminal who made money from deceiving the vulnerable. She determined after some thought to discuss the question with the one person she knew who had attended the séances and appeared to have some doubts – Dr Hamid.
Louisa Scarletti was now, in her own estimation at least, well on her way to becoming the hostess of a fashionable salon, and all her talk was of who she might invite to Mr Bradley’s healing circle in future, and, more importantly, who should not be invited, and who had attended in the past who ought never to be invited again. She spent much of her time studying the newspapers and directories of Brighton, making lists of her approved guests, and giving orders to the cook.
In one area, however, she remained sorely disappointed. Her efforts, even combined with those of Mr Bradley, to persuade Reverend Vaughan of Ch
rist Church that the healing circle was not irreligious had met with failure. On the Sunday after the first gathering the reverend had taken as his text Matthew 24.11: ‘And many false prophets shall rise, and shall deceive many.’ While he did not mention Mr Bradley by name, his meaning could not have been clearer, and during his sermon, the reverend cast some very severe looks not only at that gentleman, but at Louisa, Mina and any others whom he had been informed might be members of the circle. Mr Bradley sat throughout with a fixed smile on his face and pretended that the sermon was nothing to do with him, but Louisa made no secret of her increasing fury. According to St Matthew, the false prophets would arrive in sheep’s clothing and perform great signs and miracles, but inwardly, they would be ravening wolves. Mina did not think either Mr Bradley or Miss Eustace looked like ravening wolves, but then, on reflection, she realised that this was the very point that St Matthew was making.
When Mr Bradley’s healing circle met again, the sceptical Mr Jordan was not present, whether by his own intention or Louisa’s Mina did not know, but the two widowed sisters Mina had met at the séance, Mrs Mowbray and Mrs Peasgood, had been added to the company. Mrs Bettinson, Miss Whinstone, Mrs Phipps and Mr Conroy were early arrivals, and to Mina’s surprise when she entered the parlour, she saw her tenant, the normally energetic Mrs Parchment, sitting there looking very stiff and uncomfortable, and staring at a platter of iced cakes with extreme disfavour. How Louisa had persuaded her to attend, Mina could not imagine and why she would have wanted her there was an even greater mystery. Mrs Parchment appeared to be labouring under a similar sense of amazement.
Before the proceedings commenced, several more ladies and two gentlemen crowded into the parlour, which was starting to resemble a crush at a society drawing room. Mr Bradley started by greeting all those present with an equal distribution of his charm, although he swiftly moved on to an oleaginous appreciation of his hostess, and an especial welcome to those new to the circle. The ladies and gentlemen present, he declared, might or might not know this, but it was to Mrs Scarletti that he owed the great success of the little circle, which he anticipated might even in time become a very large circle, or even several circles. Throughout the encomium to her mother, Mina could only feel grateful that his attention was thereby diverted from herself. All then proceeded as before, with Mina allowing the peaceful atmosphere devoid of all interruptions to concentrate her mind on completing the composition of her tale of the jewel in the fish.
It was as Mr Bradley conducted the individual healing that Mina’s mind came back to what was before her, for when he paused in front of Mrs Parchment he did not, as he had done with the other ladies, touch her hand. Instead he knelt, and rested his palm on her right foot. She started, and almost withdrew the foot, then submitted to the touch with a faint frown.
Mina looked at her mother, and saw her lips curve knowingly. It was too transparent, of course. Mina deduced that the reason Mrs Parchment had not gone on her usual brisk walk that day was because she had some small injury to her foot, something that her mother knew about, and had doubtless communicated privately to Mr Bradley. There was no point in Mina suggesting that there had been any complicity since there was no proof, and both parties would deny it vehemently. The point of the dissimulation was clearly to add to Mr Bradley’s fame by demonstrating that his knowledge of Mrs Parchment’s injury should be attributed to his special insight. Mina felt disgusted at the imposture, but it appeared trivial enough. If her mother and Mr Bradley thereby felt some enhancement of their status then they should be left to enjoy their shallow delights, and if Mrs Parchment imagined her foot to feel better, why then she had received a benefit. Mr Bradley’s healing touch was no worse than the coloured water sold by quack doctors, which so many of their patients declared had cured them.
When Mrs Parchment had limped back to her room, Louisa announced to the remaining company that Mr Bradley had not seen the lady walk before he had arrived, and had not known about the injury to her foot. Nevertheless he had sensed at once that she required a healing and also the precise location of the pain. It was a wonderful proof of his astonishing perception. She also confided that her tenant had barely been able to move at all before the healing, and was therefore now almost cured. Everyone agreed that they had been most privileged to witness the demonstration.
No sooner had the last guest departed than Louisa was busy drawing up a new list of names. Mina had earlier advised her mother that her visit to Dr Hamid’s baths had brought her some relief from her accustomed discomfort, and Louisa had initially shown no great interest in this fact, but now she asked Mina if at the next gathering she might take a turn about the room, and say how her pain had diminished.
‘But the company will surely form the impression that any benefit I gained was due not to Dr Hamid’s establishment but Mr Bradley,’ Mina protested.
‘Really, Mina, how can you even know that that is not the case?’ said her mother dismissively. ‘And I do not ask you to do it for Mr Bradley, I ask you to do it for me. Is that too great a trouble for you? It seems so.’
‘Of course, I will do as you ask,’ said Mina, resignedly, wondering how she could possibly avoid it.
‘And if Dr Hamid is so very clever,’ added Louisa, ‘then how has he not healed his own sister, who is, so I have been informed, in a great state? Perhaps I should send Mr Bradley to see her.’
Mina clamped her lips shut before she said anything unwise and decided not to mention her invitation to take tea with the Hamids on the following day.
Seven
Dr Hamid and his family lived in a pleasant villa in Charles Street, not far from the Marine Parade. A maid conducted Mina to a parlour where she was greeted by Anna and her brother. It was a house of mourning, but there was a tasteful restraint about the display, which Mina thought was not about outward show or fashion but deep and privately held feeling. The mantelpiece was simply draped in black, and a framed memorial card was placed beside a black-bordered portrait of a lady, undoubtedly the late Jane Hamid, who looked out across the room with a serene and intelligent expression. Other pictures, also in black frames, showed a venerable gentleman of Indian extraction, with a round face and kindly eyes, and an elderly lady, dignified and handsome; undoubtedly Dr Hamid’s parents.
On a small table was a collection of pictures in pretty silver frames of three young people at various ages, the most recent one being of two fine-looking youths and a girl.
‘I see you are admiring our portraits,’ said Anna with a smile, when the usual politenesses had been exchanged, and refreshments served.
‘These are very charming young people,’ said Mina.
‘Jacob is twenty, now,’ said Dr Hamid. ‘He is in Edinburgh studying to be a surgeon. My two youngest are at school in London. Nathan is eighteen and will soon join his brother in the study of medicine. My daughter Davina is fifteen and, if her wishes can be met, she will also take a medical degree at Edinburgh. There is at present a most unwarranted prejudice in England against women practising medicine, which I hope will be overcome in time.’ He looked proudly at the pictures, his eyes naturally moving on to cloud over as they gazed at the portrait of his late wife.
‘You are very advanced in your thinking,’ said Mina.
He smiled. ‘How could I not be with such examples before me? My mother was a very wise and educated lady, as was my late wife, as are both my sisters. I cannot ignore what is plain to see.’
‘I am very happy that you have agreed to call on Eliza,’ said Anna, warmly. ‘She is normally solitary and, although she will protest that she prefers to be so, I am not altogether convinced of it. She hardly ever ventures downstairs but keeps to her room. Of course we spend as much time as we can with her, and there is a maid to see to her wants, but she really has no friends.’
Mina put her teacup down. ‘I would be delighted to see her.’
‘She has just taken her afternoon nap, and is now expecting you. I will take you to her.’ Anna conducte
d Mina upstairs, and knocked on a door. ‘Eliza, here is Miss Scarletti to see you.’
There was a brief wait then the door opened. Mina had prepared herself with a determination to show neither pity nor cloying kindness, both of which she abhorred, guessing that any sister of Dr and Anna Hamid would feel the same. In a moment she realised that whatever the expression on her face, it would have made no difference to the woman who stood before her. Eliza, leaning heavily upon a stout stick, was the only adult Mina had ever seen who was smaller than herself. The little woman’s body was so distorted that the curve of her spine had lifted her right shoulder higher than her head, which was forced forward on a downward sloping neck so that its normal position was with the face looking down to the floor. The left shoulder was rotated so that it rested several inches below the right and, while the necessarily loose and shapeless gown concealed it, Mina knew that the left side of Eliza’s body must be collapsed and atrophied to a degree that she herself would hopefully never experience. The unfortunate woman’s ribs were almost certainly pressing into her lungs and possibly even constricting the action of her heart. Suddenly Mina saw that her own body, her young strong body in which she could achieve all that she wanted to do in life, was a wonderful blessing to her, and that her inconsequential S of a spine could only mock with its comparatively mild displacement the crushed form of Eliza Hamid. Mina had never intended it, but tears started in her eyes. Anna glanced at her, concerned, and Mina knew that if she faltered now she had failed everyone. She took a deep breath. ‘Miss Hamid, I am most delighted to meet you.’
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