Bertha. A romance of Easter-tide

Preface

. Kind Reader : I must beg of you to be very lenient with this, my first attempt to write a Spiritual Romance. In the following pages I have wandered far from the beaten track in which novelists usually run. I have not only written a novel with a purpose, but I have written one with the express purpose of introducing Spiritualism to the reading public, in a popular and taking form. How far I have succeeded, the public must decide. In throwing out to the world this, my first venture in this peculiar line of literature, I venture to believe I stand alone among the novel writers of the day, in that I have resolved to adopt the same style, that I have employed when writing anonymously, both in England and America. While I ask my readers to regard this little work in its true light, as a Spiritualistic Romance, I beg also, most earnestly and solemnly, to assure them, that wiiile I have altered names, and dates, and places, so as to make my7 story free from personalities ; while I have most studiously re frained from taking liberties with private persons, and their places of residence, I have faithfully inserted nothing as a spirit communication, wilich I have not the strongest reasons for believing really emanated from a disembodied spirit- Neither have I exaggerated one whit in my descriptions of seances, what I have actually, personally observed. I have

PREFACE.

. heard and seen phenomena fully as wonderful as any I here record. I have, it is true, made an ideal heroine, by putting three persons into one, therefore, Bertha is a veritable trinity in unity — three persons and one heroine. I have found in my experienees in life, which have been neither fewnor short, that it is next to impossible to find all the materials we need to constitute an ideal man or woman in one single human being, and while I have throughout my tale written history under the guise of romance, I have often found it needful to draw from more lives than one to make a model character. Mr. Howard Bruin has been formed after the manner of Bertha. One exception to the rule, how7ever, is introduced in Signor Victor Vulpi. I really did know a gentleman, in my younger days, who wras exactly the character I have here portrayed.

To him I could add nothing. I could only fail at every turn in giving expression to a tithe of his con spicuous traits and wonderful abilities. My readers will perceive that I have not written an ordinary love story7. Of these there are so manythousands in the world, that I scarcely felt called upon by any w7ant in the book-market, to add to their number, which is already legion ; and as I had materials in my possession for a narrative, en titled to some claim, at least, to originality, if nothing else, I resolved to create rather than imitate, and to lead rather than follow-. As I have written solely in the interests of truth ; as 1 have cloaked no conviction, glossed over no iniquity, held back nothing I felt constrained to give to the world ; not having written for fame, popularity or praise, the approval or condemnation of my work at the hands of the critics, whom some authors so devoutly fear and worship, has PREFA CE.

V been the farthest from my thoughts. Written at odd times, whenever my numerous engagements as a public speaker and correspondent for the press, enabled me to snatch a brief interval of leisure which I could devote to my book without neglecting other and more pressing duties, I can not lay the slightest claim for it to faultlessness of style, or polished literary finish. I hope no one will judge of my capabilities as a writer from this crude effort ; as this poor, little book has suffered innumerable disadvantages from having to be written when ever a few spare hours or minutes allowed me to add a fresh page to its slowly increasing size. My publisher, Mr. Burns, deserves great praise for the time and care he has bestowed upon my often almost illegible MSS. To him on the material side of life, as well as to my invisible helpers in the spheres of spirit which surround us, nearer than we oft imagine, I tender thanks for all that deserves praise in my story, or its outward dress.

Hoping that other anel abler pens than mine will take the initiative from this very humble effort, anel enrich the book market with records of the work of the spirits among men in this our century ; and that my little drop in the ocean of popular literature will bring to the front other drops of similar purpose and wider scope, — I beg to remain, the Friend of every honest Seeker after Truth, no matter what his creed or race may be, a willing Servant to my disembodied Prompters, W. J. COLVILLE. Manchester, England. Lady Day, 1884. CONTENTS. CHAPTER r-AOR Prepach . . . iii I. Bertha ... 1 II. The Village Easter . . 12 III. Who was the Tenor? . . 24 IV. Back to Silvern Terrace . 29 V. The Oratorio . . . 35 VI. The Long-lost Brother . 43 VII. A Strange Story. . . 53 VIII. A Modern Miracle . . 62 IX.

" Anastasis," or the Besurrection 69 X. An Evening with the Spirits . 81 XI. Testamentibus . . 89 XII. Our Heroine in Paris . . 101 XIII. Some Marvels in Psychology . 109 XIV. The Agnostic Satisfied . 123 XV. Spiritualism Philosophized . 134 XVI. A Heterodox Preacher . 144 CONTENTS. chapter tage XVII. In Tenebæ Lucis . . 156 XVIII. Who are the Heretics? . 1C5 XIX. Almost Incredible . . 176 XX. The Gathering of a Storm . 185 XXI. Bertha's Misery . . 195 XXII. Darkness before Daybreak . 204 XXII [. Sunrise of a New Day . 214 XXIV. A New Departure . . 224 XXV. Trance Speaking at St. Michael's Hall 236 XXVI. Genuine Philanthropy . 246 XXVII. A Happy Family . . 257 XXVIII. First Impressions of America . 268 XXIX. A Remarkable Seance . . 280 XXX. The Colony in Texas . . 292 XXXI. Conclusion . . BERTHA.

Chapter I

Bertha. CLEAR, bright morning in early spring introduces us to one of' the most delightful rural districts in the West of England. A pretty cottage overlooking the moor is rendered peculiarly attractive by the number and variety of sweet spring flowers which adorn the large garden in front of it. A young girl, apparently not more than sixteen years of age, is leaning against one ofthe old beech trees which give the name to the cottage, or villa, as it is usually called by way of compliment, " Beech-Tree Villa." Her mood is evidently a sober one, not to say sorrowful. She is very thinly attired for out of-door musings in March ; she is arrayed in a pretty but inexpensive morning-dress, evidently not a production of any far-famed London or Paris dressmaker ; a light fleecy shawl is thrown over her gracefully -rounded shoulders, her head is uncovered, save by its luxuriant w7ealth of golden hair, wiiich falls in unrestrained profusion down her back.

She is not large of her age, neither is she what all men would call beautiful, but there is an indescribable charm about her whole B BERTHA. manner and appearance, which renders her far more winsome than any stereotyped style of beauty can ever be. Her chief charm, however, is in her voice — she is a born artiste ; one of those sweet natural songstresses who pour forth their very souls in thrilling melodies, like unto the lark or nightingale. You can detect no professor's mannerisms in their inimitable style : they are nature's own vocalists, whom careful training may perhaps render yet more perfect in their art, but who are as far superior to the stagey actress who sings only for her living — caring naught for the soul ol music, and understanding the language of the soul as little as the piano on which her accompaniment is played, — as the sweet-voiced nightingale is superior to the mechanical singing bird, devoid of life, which warbles prettily when you wind up the clock-work, but has no feeling of its own to awake respon sive echoes in the listener's breast.

Bertha Thrushleigh, for such is the charming young songstress' appropriate name, is an orphan. Her mother, to whom she is still in spirit devotedly attached, left the material form (every one who knew her felt sure for realms of well-merited bliss) when Bertha was quite a little birdie, far too young to leave the nest and fly out into the cold world to gather crumbs let fall by kind or careless persons as best she might. Her father was wounded in battle, brought home insensible, and shortly after joined his wife in the unseen spheres, before Bertha was ten years of age. Naturally of a shrinking and sensitive disposition, though by no means devoid of spirit, it was no small trial to the tender-hearted girl, to be thus early deprived of home and loving care. Six years before our story opens, she was hus tled to London, there to reside till her coming of age with an aunt who had heartily disliked her father, — and could scarcely refrain from speaking of him cruelly, even during his last lingering illness, in which he suffered indescribably, but with heroic patience and fortitude.

This woman had never for given her youngest and most beautiful sister for marrying the gay young officer, who refused to be caught in the tangled meshes of ambition she presumed to dignify with the name of love, two years previous to his marriage with her sister (Ber tha's mother), who was for many years the pet and darling of the concert-going elite of the Metropolis. Bertha, driven by the loss of both her parents, and the BERTHA. 3 breaking up of the dear old home in Dorsetshire, where her early childhood hael been so peacefully and happily spent, was suddenly introduced to a world of shams, artifices and intrigue, against which her very soul, young as she was, fiercely revolted. Mrs. Sweetgeese, the aunt with whom she was forced to reside, was very glad to receive Bertha into her second-rate lodging-house, which she always assured all her acquaintances was a strictly7 private residence, rather too large for her own occupancy, in the spare rooms of which she graciously allow7ed a few old and very dear friends to reside during their annual visit to the Metropolis.

The £200 per annum, which Bertha's father, Captain Thrushleigh, left for his daughter's maintenance and education, was very acceptable to the widow, whose husband had left her with an income far too slender to allow of her keeping up the appearances, which were to her all that was worth living for ; though her seat in church was never empty, and the Rev. Aloysius Dominic called frequently at 14, Silvern Terrace, to see if the devoted Mrs. Sweetgeese had received any more subscriptions to the fund for the new altar to be placed, as soon as the necessary amount, £2,000, was raised, in the church of the Perpetual Adoration. Bertha, who was naturally a bright and active child, soon grew accustomed to the hurry and bustle of her new home, if home it might be called. Her £200 per annum, being safely deposited in the bank which held Mrs. Sweetgeese's properties, her education was entirely neglected ; and had she been a penniless scullery-maid, she could not have been more completely the drudge of the kitchen.

But, somehow, with that unconquerable tenacity of life which true gentility seems always to possess, Bertha grew up unmistakably7 a lady, and when, at fourteen years of age, she joined the choir of the church of the Sacred Heart, no singer among the band of high-born maidens, who made the gorgeous sanctuary ring with their sweet-voiced praises, could vie with pretty little Miss Thrushleigh in purity of tone and perfection of execution. Her only happiness she found in song. She understood little or nothing of the dogmas of the church, at whose ceremonies she so efficiently assisted ; her whole being was absorbed in the contemplation of some ethereal glories, among which she fancied herself floating, while her magnificent voice poured BERTHA. forth in rapturous strains of melody, the grand old anthems of the Roman Catholic Church.

Often, the youthful singer would be taken to the manager of some great theatre, and be by him requested, if only for a night, to join the chorus in some grand opera, and whenever gold was offered, Mrs. Sweetgeese w7as only too glad to let her go ; and thus with scarcely as good clothing as an under housemaid in a second-rate family, and without any more education than she had picked up at the village preparatory school at Silkworn, Dorset, where her earliest years had been spent, this dreamy, beautiful, but eccentric girl, made her way so far into the hearts of the elite of church and concert room, that wherever she was known, no musicdle was con sidered complete without her presence. But how comes she at Beech-Tree Villa, in the charming little parish of Knaresbrook, in Devonshire ? How comes she in the garden, which is the greatest pride of Mrs. Maltravers Only, the great lady of the place, who rules the beau-monde of Knaresbrook and neighbourhood, by a simple gesture of her haughty, white hand, or a single lifting of those imperious eye-brows, which excite such admiring awe among the less well-connected and highly-born dames of Knaresbrook.

Mrs. Maltravers Only is not a rich woman, but she prides herself upon her birth and breeding. Her husband is a gentleman, in every sense in which that word is used by superficial people. His manners are as polished as any Frenchman's; his linen is of the finest and the whitest; his gloves are faultless ; his evening dress most exquisite ; but were he suddenly to drop out of existence, the world would hardly feel more loss than it experiences at the death of a summer insect. His wife is proud of him, but she rules him. He acquiesces in all her sayings and doings, echoes her even sentiment, and is really just the kind of husband needed by the frivolous, and yet very capable lady, w7ho as Agnes Montressor, at twenty-six years of age, having refused three offers because the gentlemen who had proposed to her were not above engaging in business, consented — without con sulting her heart, which troubled her very little — to become Mrs. Percival Maltravers Only.

How euphonious the name to ears polite ! How distingue the appellation Only : so uncomon, so noblesse ; she was so charmed with the euphony, that even her beloved ancestral BERTHA. 5 Montressor might safely yield to three such unapproachable substitutes: as Percival Maltravers Only. Bertha was patronized by this really good-natured, but insufferably conceited lady, much as a little silken puppy of a smaller breed is sometimes patronized by some large and .stately mastiff or retriever ; with this difference, that the patronizing lady was bent on making capital out of the charming orphan she invited to her " country seat," — as she always styled Beech-Tree Villa, which was always a '" cottage " till she leased it of a widow7 for fourteen years, at a lower rental than supplied the amount annually expended by the said widow in repairs ; — while the dog apparently has no other object in view7 than gratifying the very laudable and dogly instinct (which by courtesy to bipeds we call " manly"), which prompts the more successful and exalted to take under their protecting wings the poor little waifs who mutely appeal to them for sympathy.

Bertha, whom we have left all this time standing alone in the garden, leaning against the trunk of the stately, grand old breech-tree, has been invited to Knaresbrook to add attractions to Mrs. Maltravers Only's rather stupid, but very correct, drawing-room. The Misses Only are in the room at the time when our narrative commences. One of whom, a pale, languid maiden of seventeen summers, aspires to æstheticism, and is nowpainting- very7 watery -looking sunflowers upon the newembossed note paper, which is ornamented with the figure of a very insipid youth, eating lilies, and playing a harp with one finger. The other Miss Only is performing a similar operation upon an old harpsichord, which for economy's sake. takes the place of a modern piano, but which is ostensibly retained in its post of honour in the Only drawing-room, because its keys were once struck by the immaculate fingers of George IV., who, as Prince Regent, bad once been at Knaresbrook, and refreshed himself with ale, cheese, and mince-pie in the widow's cottage, when she was a young anel blooming school-girl.

The piano ceases its dreary monotone, and Ciarrissa Only rises from her music-stool, arranges her music with au absent air, and then heaving an impatient sigh, walks leisurely to the table where her sister is still painting sunflowers, and addresses her in these words : — BERTHA. " Oh, my darling Adie, you cannot think how shattered my poor nerves are: ! That terrible Bertha has absolutely told our Vicar that she doesn't believe God intended the nobility to possess the broad acres their sainted forefathers purchased with their life-blood, in the clays when those dear Crusaders won them from the Assyrians, who had defiled Jerusalem." " Don't notice her, darling," says the dreamy Adelaide, contemplating a sunflower as though it were an angel ; ■' think how sadly ber education has been neglected.

And she is not æsthetic, as we are, neither has she history at her tongue's end, like you have, dearest. Let us go out, and see where she's been hiding herself all this fair morning. Don't encourage her to talk about what she knows nothing of. You know7, Mama cannot sing, neither can you, nor I ; anel the Rev. Francis Creamcheese, one of the most popular London preachers, is to preach for our Vicar on Easter Sunday ; and Dr. Kneeswell has offered Mama the services of two of his best pupils for her concerts in London during May, if she will only make Bertha stay over the Easter services here, and sing the Sanctus, as she did at St. Chad's last Christmas. The Rev. Thurifer Chasuble almost went wild over her, and you know, dear, the Rev. Francis Cream cheese is unmarried, and not so ascetic as the priests at St Chad's ; and who knows what may be in store for us if we get him here, and show him our paintings, and talk to him of our visits to Switzerland, while he comes avowedly to direct Bertha how to sing the Easter anthem.

You know he's so musical, and so artistic — I mean to set to work at once anel embroider him a dozen of those elegant handkerchiefs Mama brought for Par_i from Paris. ' F. C.,' what pretty letters ! so suggestive of the dear fellow who is a living poem ; and then think of this — he has £1,000 a year, besides his living." By the time this charming dialogue is ended, both girls are out in the garden looking for Bertha, who, in her statuesque loveliness, her beautiful tresses lighted up with the noontide sunbeams, until an aureole seems shimmering round her head, is a very fair picture indeed to gaze upon. The ruby lips are slightly parted, as though in silent prayer ; the clear, blue eyes seem to be gazing into the far-off clouds, as though they saw visions of a brighter clime ; her simple BERTHA. 7 dress of soft, pink cashmere, with white tulle raffles at the neck and wrists, sets off to perfection a countenance, which, though tender aud dreamy, yet displays capabilities for loving and for suffering exceeded by few.

As the girls approach her, she heeds them not. Once, twice, thrice have they called her name, before she answers, or even notices their presence ; and when she does so, the fair, blue eyes open widely, with a kind of dazed expression of disappointment in them, as though she had suddenly been called from brighter regions to gaze upon the dull realities of earthly dress and fashion once again. Her voice, however, was w7ell modulated, and her smile inviting, as she wished the young ladies good morning (she had not seen them previously, as they had not risen till after ten o'clock, while she awoke at seven, and breakfasted at eight).

Her words in answer to their queries as to where she had been, and what she had been doing with herself, only strengthened them in their conviction that she was a strange creature, fonder of animals and birds than of well-dressed and faultlessly educated ladies and gentlemen ; anel altogether far more fit to lead a gipsy's life in Bohemia, than to adorn the perfectly-appointed drawing-room, where her voice, however, was the chief attraction to the county Squire, the Vicar, and above all, to Dr. Frobisher Kneeswell, the haughty anel aristocratic organist and director of the choir at St. Cyprian's. Belgravia, who, being a personal friend of the Vicar of Knaresbrook, and on terms of intimacy with the Rev. Francis Creamcheese, had been prevailed upon to rusticate during Holy Week and Easter Week, that the services at the old Parish Church might be unusually imposing ; especially as the Bishop of Heliopolis was to officiate on Easter Mon day at a special choral service, when the offertory would be devoted to a foreign missionary society, which employed ten thousand Uttle boys in Palestine, to throw banana skins on the pavements in front of the Jewish temples, that the idol worshippers might break their limbs and be carried to the hospital of the Sainted Judas, where they could have their souls secured for heaven on payment of £150 a year to the establishment of the Episcopate in Smyrna.

" My dear Bertha ; what a strange child you are ! " said the elder Miss Only to her young visitor. " You seem to take no interest whatever in anything except your music, BERTHA. 8 and for one so young, I should hardly have expected such devotion to a profession." " Profession ! " exclaimed Bertha. " What is a professional singer ? Do y7ou mean one who sings for a living ? Well, I suppose I am a professional then, as I get money tor my services at the theatres, though not in church. But my music is my life. I should die if I did not sing; and all the money Professor Karl Herrin paid me last year at Covent Garden, my aunt spent in port wine and a new7 wig ; and you know I hate wine and don't wear other people's hair, so it didn't do me much good." " My darling little Birdie ! " said the æsthetic Adie, re provingly ; " What would Mama say if she heard you talk of your aunt in that way ?

Why, do you know it is posi tively sinful. Haven't you learnt the fifth commandment ? " " Mrs. Sweetgeese isn't my mother, thank heaven," replied Bertha ; " and I'm sure she's not my father : and what honouring one's parents can have to do with talking about a hypocritical old woman, who tries to look young, and tells lies, and beats the servant as a kind of desert to the com munion service, to which she goes twice a week regularly, is more than I can understand." Then coaxingly, laying her soft, little, dimpled hands upon the two girls, and looking up wistfully into their regular but not attractive features, she said softly, in her sweetest accents, with one of her rare and almost angelic smiles — " Do try and love me ! Do keep me here with you for a month or two, at least, and try me, as you want a maid.

I will try and do all you ask of me, if you w7on't send me back again to Silvern Terrace, and that horrible old woman." Having said this, she burst into a flood of tears, and looked so utterly dejected that the very trees and flowers must have pitied her. The Misses Only seeing the Vicar approaching, whispered a few kindly words hurriedly into her ear, and telling her to dry her tears and look cheerful, introduced Bertha to the Vicar of Knaresbrook, who was just about to start for Lon don to officiate at St. Chad's during Holy Week and Easter. The Vicar, the Rev. Pusey Kingscroft, was a middle-aged man, of a rather imposing appearance. No one could see him once, without feeling sure that he was a man who was duly impressed with the nature of holy orders, but though an BERTHA. 9 austere bachelor, he was not an unkind or unfatherly man.

He was, indeed, a good specimen of the ritualistic country clergyman, who keeps the villagers pretty completely under his ecclesiastical thumb. " So, you are going to sing in my church at Easter, Miss Thrushleigh ; I have heard great things of your talent; they are in raptures over you at St. Chad's, and I hope w7e may be able to form as good an opinion of you here. I am sorry I have to leave for London this afternoon, but my assistance is much needed at St. Chad's, during this week and next, and you will be quite delighted with Mr. Creamcheese, who is a great musical critic." " Mr. Kingscroft ! " whispered the elder Miss Only, into the Vicar's ear. " Do, please, speak a warning word to Bertha about her behaviour. We are so afraid she will say something awful in company. She actually told Mama the other day aloud at the table, that her hair was not all of the same colour.

I can tell you, we are afraid of her. And then she actually told me this morning, that she thought it waste of time to send missionaries to the Jews, because Christianity was no better than Judaism. She has been reading some of those terrible tracts Mrs. Bombshell circulated at St. Gregory's Hall last winter when we were in London ; and you know her aunt, Mrs. Sweetgeese, is devoted to the Church, and would cry her eyes out if she thought Bertha was undutiful to her spiritual superiors." " My dear young lady," said Mr. Kingscroft, addressing Miss Thrushleigh ; " I am deeply grieved to hear what Miss Only has been telling me. She has positively asked me to impress upon you the need of keeping a bridle upon your unruly tongue. I am too shocked for utterance, to think that a girl of your age, brought up by so pious a woman as your dear aunt, Mss.

Sweetgeese, should dare to speak disrespectfully of God's appointed servants and their work. Let me hear no more of this, or, as you are in my parish now, I shall give you a severe penance. I shall ask these young ladies, very particularly, how you have behaved on my return, and I trust the report may be favourable." " Sneaks ! " hissed Bertha, turning upon the Misses Only, like a young tigress. I thought you were ladies, but if your conceited, patronizing mama has taught you to gossip about c BERTHA. guests in this way, I am glad my aunt did appropriate my father's money instead of educating me with it." Then with eyes, flashing like a young fury, she turned to the Vicar, saying : — "Now, Sir: if that's religion, I don't want any; and if you like my aunt, you'd better marry her : I'm sure she'd have you if you asked her.

And if Mrs. Only thinks I'm not good enough to associate with her stuck-up daughters, she can send me back with you to London." " Goodness me ! What's all this fuss about ? " says a clear, haughty voice, close beside them. " My daughters stuck up ! Bertha not good enough to associate with them ! I send her back with you, Mr. Kingscroft ! I don't understand. Clarissa ; Adie ; What's all this about ? Explain yourselves instantly," and Mrs. Maltravers Only, evidently not in the best. of humours, opened and shut her ivory fan several times during tbe next minute, awaiting her daughters' responses, which, however, were not immediately forthcoming. At length, after several impatient gestures from her mother, Clarissa said sweetly, in her subdued, dulcet notes : — " Mama, dear, I was only asking Mr. Kingscroft to give Bertha a little good advice.

She frightens us so ; and you know what awful things sbe says. Why, only last night she told me she thought murderers ought not to be hung, and w7e ought to be kind to criminals and not transport them ; and a lot of other revolutionary nonsense, like one reads in the Infidel Truespade." "' Clarissa ! you astonish me. And where, I shoulel like to know, can either Bertha or you have seen infidel newspapers ? People in our set don't read such trash. We all think alike. It is vulgar in the extreme for ladies to discuss politics." Then drawing herself up, like a peacock with tail out spread, this representative of brainless gentility taps Bertha on the shoulder, and says to her : — " My dear girl : you must reallybe more careful. But, come, don't look so angry ; my girls only wanted to put you on your guard.