Autobiography of Emma Hardinge Britten

Dedication

TO TIE IMMORTALS WILO HAVE GUIDED

MY FOO'TSTEPS ON EARTH

THESE RECORDS OF MY LIFE THSTORY ARM GRATEPULLY

Preface

Tue latter half of the century, now almost at its close, has seen the rise and progress of many movements of thought that have had an appreciable influence in moulding the opinions of the world on many important themes. In Art, Science, Philosophy, Religion, and Morals we have seen the old give place to the new, and many an opinion considered as sacrosant has been dismissed as no longer tenable in the new light that has been shed upon the _ problems that have vexed the souls of men in the past. To-day chattel slavery is abhorrent. Philosophy is no longer perforce harnessed to the Juggernaut Car of Religious Bigotry; Art and Literature are the possession of the multitude. Political and Industrial Freedom has become a commonplace of thought, and Religion is rapidly escaping from the trammels of orthodox conventions. While Modern Spiritualism, that at one time was a “voice crying in the wilderness,” finds its acceptance assured and respectful consideration given to its facts, and their deductions. At the end of another fifty years who shall say what position “this stone rejected of the builders ” will occupy ?

Without here raising needlessly debatable matter, it is not too much to say that the progress and freedom of thought above referred to has to no inconsiderable extent been furthered, if not positively initiated, by what is generally to be described as Modern Spiritualism, for admitting its fundamental fact, that of intercourse between the living and the so-called dead, to be true, there must follow.a certain revolution of the world’s opinions upon the hitherto accepted conceptions of Science, Philosophy, and Religion. A revolution as important, and as far reaching in results as followed the acceptance of the theories of Copernicus vi. PREFACE.

concerning the physical universe, and of the Protestant Reformers as to the opinions previously accepted in the religious world. What Copernicus and Newton did for the science of their days, Huss, Ridley, and Knox accomplished in their times, aided by the Wesleys, Whitfield, and their co-workers. But it is not enough that the world should have been enlightened as to the nature of the physical universe on the one hand, or that religious thought should be measurably purified on the other hand ; a still further enlightenment was also required as to that ‘other world,” as well. Without this further illumination there still remained a state of uncertainty, not to say darkness, over that deepest of all problems, as expressed in that old time question, “if a man die shall he live again?”

The curious conjunction of Materialism and Mesmerism of fifty years ago forms to the student an instructive incident, reflecting as it did the despair of Rationalists on the one side, and the hunger of the seekers after a stable basis for man’s immortality. on the other hand; the one side being a revolt agaiust unprovable dogmas, as was the other an equal revolt from the cold conclusions of materialistic science, and both incontinently cursed by the very authorities they severally and jointly questioned by the facts they presented. Cahagnet and Alexis in Paris ; Reichenbach in Germany, Ashburner in England, Bovee Dodds in New York, and many others presented personal facts that could not be accounted for by science, but which, nevertheless, demanded answers, if science was to be complete. For such experiences marked the demolition of the old fanciful line between the Natural and so-called Supernatural, while the advent of the Hydesvillé Rappings still further accentuated the needful mingling of the two sides of Nature, if a satisfactory science was ever to be established, by which the entire of being was to be brought within the range of rational and orderly conception and discussion.

The history of all movements reveals the fact that when the hour comes the man arrives! The agent arises, from where least expected, at a time when no one realises it; but that agent, if called by the divine necessities of the case, sweeps triumphantly to the forefront, and irresistibly accomplishes the appointed task.

PREFACE. vii

Youth, age, or sex, matters not; race or colour is immaterial ; the Worker appears, and though the path may be strewn with thorns, and the martyr’s crown be the halo earned, yet, in spite of all, the task is accomplished, and the world is helped beyond all staying. The present may give but scant recognition, the future will make amends. To find one’s name on the world’s roll of honour is no mean reward for tears, wounds and death, suffered for the world’s well being. ;

To such honour came the subject of the Autobiography disclosed in the following pages. Unexpectedly—nay, almost unwillingly—called to her high office, as Embassadress to the Unseen World, Emma Hardinge Britten played her part in the world drama, and filled it nobly and well. And in the following pages she spenks to us in her own vlowing poriods, and tells us something of her life services, trials and triumphs, on behalf of that cause that has surely revolutionised the opinions of the world at large concerning “that bourne from which,” in spite of the Swan of Avon, “travellers” do “return,” to make glad the hearts of the bereaved and sorrowing ones of earth.

Arduous as were her platform duties, nevertheless she was just as active in the use of her pen. Articles without number were contributed to our Press in all parts of the world, sometimes on questions other than those with which she was most identified. Politics, Social Reform, Music, Education, History, Travel—she wrote with ability and facility on each, while her permanent contributions to the literature of Spiritualism were numerous and valuable. Among these were: “ A History of Modern American Spiritualism,” ‘Nineteenth Century Miracles,” “The Faiths, Facts, and Frauds of Religious History,” “The Wildfire Club,” “The Magnetic and Electric Physician,” and as the Editor, “ Art Magic” and ‘“ Ghost Land ” must also be credited to her industry. There were also Editorial contributions and direction to American Spiritual journals, including her own magazines, “The Western Star,” in America and “The Unseen Universe” in England. Work enough to occupy a less energetic person entirely without. the additional duties of exhaustive travel and continuous lecturing.

viii. PREFACE.

The} closing scenes of this busy life were passed in her own land, but-the same tireless energy characterised her then as ever. Foi five ‘years her abilities were unstintedly expended in the Editorial chair of “The Two Worlds,” which paper rapidly sprang into public favour under her care. Her severance from that connection was admittedly a matter of pain to her, and doubtless was also a cause of ‘continued regret, because of the untoward circumstances that induced it. She herself summed it up in her memorable phrase that “Spiritualism is Divine, but Spiritualists are human!” It is pleasing to record, however, that the wound was in great part healed before she departed hence. As of the departed, so of misunderstandings that are past, the old proverb de mortuis nil nisi bonum may be the epitaph of things to be forgotten.

Whoso peruses the following pages, from her own pen, may now do so the more clearly from what has gone before. The matters relatedthave been culled from the personal diaries of the subject in hand, and so far can be accepted as a faithful, if limited, statement of the career of her whom we all delight to honour. The task committed to the writer has been, truly, a labour of love. Othershands could have done it with greater claims to ability and - merit, but none could have done it with worthier motives. It is the tribute of one who knew her for nearly thirty years, who was glad to be her co-worker, and proud to be.her friend. One, too, who gladly recalls many an encouraging word spoken in the days when he was unknown and struggling, and who is not ashamed to say he is still grateful for the unswerving friendship of the past. In this he is not singular, for thousands can assuredly say the same, and remember her as a wise counseller and faithful friend.

The curtain falls on the earthly drama, the chief performer has left the stage. he lights are out, and the audience has scattered, but the memory of the scenes remain. It was a noble life, and a useful one, too. Its effect on millions cannot be told in words, Its ringing pleas for Truth, Liberty, and Progress yet sound in our ears, and the inspirations of those tones remain with us as an undying encouragement to go on in the great work her hands never tired in doing. If the modern Spiritual dispensation ever

PREFACE. ix, recognises Saints, Heroes, or Prophets she will, without doubt, be canonised, and placed with honour in our Pantheon, for she spared not energy, faithfulness or any service, in aiding the present day to a larger knowledge of that Gospel of Angel ministry that has done so much to banish the fear of death from our minds, and the bitter load of tears and grief from heart and cheek of the sad, the sorrowing and despairing.

Truly we can say that being “dead” she still speaketh. For there can be no question to the Spiritualists that she is as ever a worker from within the veil as she was while this side thereof. We hail thee then still, Emma Hardinge Britten, noble woman, faithful worker, and nobler title than all, faithful friend of mankind and true fellow worker with the unseen Angel hosts, to whom, for our emancipation she gave her all. My loving task is done ; accept it, dear friend, “with all its imperfections on its head,” for none may esteem you more than he who is still your fellow worker.

J. J. Morss.

Dedication.

TO THE IMMORTALS WHO HAVE GUIDED | MY FOOTSTEPS ON EARTH THESE RECORDS OF MY LIFE HISTORY ARE GRATEFULLY INSCRIRED BY THE AUTHOR,

EMMA HARDINGE BRITTEN.

Contents

CHAPTER I. ns

CHAPTER IV.

“Hr pone DEaD, Yer SPEAKBTH” 20. .o....c cc ce eee eeeeeceeeees 31 CHAPTER V.

Chapter I

“There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.” —Shakespeare.

PERHAPS amongst the most devoted and indefatigable of the Propagandists, included in the ranks of modern Spiritualism, not one has enjoyed or suffered, as the case might be, a larger amount of “ biographical press” notice, both from friends and enemies, than the writer of the following pages.

The truth is, that my own time has been so constantly occupied, that, whilst it has been a part of my public duty to answer, and not unfrequently to debate with, my enemies, I have been compelled to pass by, unnoticed, the occasional mistakes and not unfrequently the all too lavish eulogies of my friends, hoping to be able to correct the same, some day in “the good time coming.”

As autobiographical publications sometimes seem to imply a self-sufficient idea of the writer’s own importance, a sentiment which would be wholly foreign to my mind or intention, I may preface my experiences by stating, in the first place, the sources from which my record has been drawn, and next, the reasons which induce me to think the references I shall have to make to many notable Pioneers of the early Spiritual movement may compensate for any lack of interest, in an otherwise merely personal narrative.

In the desire to cheer the heart of a beloved and lonely mother, from whose dear side my world-wide travels continually called mo away, T never failed to send her, at least once a week, written and printed accounts of my whereabouts and doings.

Now that the dear mother has become a watching Angel of the higher life, I have had occasion to examine her piles of literary treasures, and excising from the dramatic records of the past all but such as may serve to beat down waymarks for the information of those that shall come after me, I proceed to comply with the reiterated demands of the many sympathising friends who have cheered my toilsome path, by selecting such portions of my biographical memoranda as may illustrate the life and work of a Pioneer Nineteenth Century “ Spirit Medium.”

Cornelius Agrippa and other Medisval Mystics have affirmed, that a Magician to attain to successful achievement “must be born a Magician.”

Reviewing my own youthful experiences, I am perfectly convinced that this remark applies as surely to “Spirit Mediums” as to Magicians—indeed to my apprehension the two terms are synonymous.

The Spiritual gifts that are normal to mediumistic individuals from birth may change and alter during earth life, but never wholly depart, and as this was happily my own case, and I was “born a witch,” as some of my public opponents have politely informed the world, I have experienced many changes, though no actual. loss of mediumistic unfoldment, throughout a long and busy career.

Referring briefly to my early childhood I can now understand those problematical points in my young life which puzzled alike my parents and teachers. Being gifted with a fine voice and a passionate love for music, even as a little child, I was a centre of attraction, and the subject of extravagant prophecies of future distinction.

Looking back upon my own earliest recollections, I fancy that I was never young, joyous or happy, like other children ; my delight was to steal away alone and seek the solitude of woods and fields, but above all to wander in churchyards, cathedral cloisters, and old monastic ruins.

Here strange sounds would ring in my ears, sometimes in the form of exquisite music, suggesting new compositions and pathetic songs, sometimes in voices uttering dim prophecies of future events, especially in coming misfortunes. At times forms of rare beauty or appalling ugliness flitted across my path, wearing the human form, and conveying impressions of identity with those who had once lived on earth.

At the time of these unchildlike experiences, no one around understood me, though the servants of the family would often say in low tones amongst themselves, that, the child had described some of their dead relatives, also that whatever I prophesied was swre to come to pass.

The happiest period .of these immature years was, strange to say, when I was, as frequently happened, laid on a bed of sickness. To pass away in dreams, as I then believed, into lovely green fields amidst strange and most beautiful people, was such rapture to me, that I was wilful enough to try and take cold, so that I might be laid up and go off to my unknown and fascinating fairy land.

Never understood by those around me, it was only in

_after years and when I became called and associated with a secret society of Occultists and attended their sessions in London as one of their clairvoyant and magnetic subjects, that I myself began to comprehend why a young girl fairly educated, and blessed with many advantages, should be branded with such peculiarities of disposition as must inevitably shut her off from all companionship with children of her own age and standing.

The society of Occultists to whom I can now only allude, and who are named in “Ghost-Land” as the “Orphic Circle,” obtained knowledge (by means I am not at liberty to mention) of those persons whose associations they desired.

None of the members were known as such outside their circles, the existence of the society was undreamed of, and those whom they chose to affiliate with they knew of and called. I having been thus favoured obtained a clue to my own exceptional early experiences, which the subsequent developments of Spiritualism stamped as natural Seership. ;

As the powers so mystical in my own person were thoroughly comprehended by the “ Adepts” of the “Orphic Society,” as I may venture to call them, I shall sum up this portion of my early life by quoting a few lines of an article written by one of my occult associates, and published in the Medium somo years ago.

“ A ghost seeress, somnambulist, improvisatrice in music, and o

prophetess, the strange weird child, ‘Emma Floyd,’ was the terror - of her nursery attendants, and the problem of all who knew her. It seems probable that hereditary influences were prevalent in this child’s nature. Descended from the renowned ‘Welsh wizard,’ Owen Glendower, little Emma also partook of the characteristics of her father, a sea captain, and a man of phenomenal powers of prevision, and other qualities of a Spiritualistic order. There were many circumstances in Emma’s early life which, as a thoughtful woman, she now considers to have been instrumental in preparing her for her present mission. Being deprived of her good father’s care at a very tender age, the young girl, like the rest of her family, was compelled to depend upon her own talents for subsistence. Her phenomenal musical endowments determined her friends to educate her for the operatic profession. The exercise of her musical powers, and other circumstances, threw her into the society of persons far above her in rank and educational culture, and thus, as she herself modestly alleges, she derived certain advantages which she never could have enjoyed as a humble musical student, and which she now finds have been of incalculable value in preparing her as an instrument for the Spiritual rostrum.

lt was during the time that the young girl enjoyed the fairest prospects of achieving eminence as an opera singer that she found all those prospects blighted by her irrepressible somnambulic tendencies,

During the progress of her studies at Paris she became impelled to rise from her bed in profound sleep, climb tremendous heights, traverse the wintry streets, preach, recite, and enact fearful scenes ; . very often the somnambulist would utter wild cries and screams, the result of which was to create so violent: an irritation of the vocal chords that she ultimately lost her fine soprano voice, and was compelled to relinquish her operatic pursuits.

It has been a favourite theory with me, and with some others much wiser than myself, that in our one earthly career we may live many lives, and, without ever losing our porsonal idontity, undergo changes analogous to many deaths and new lives. I am quite sure I suffered the bitterness of death when my good father, to whom I was passionately attached, passed away from earth. With a breaking heart, I, a little eleven-years-old child, was sent out to earn my bread as a pupil-teacher of music. Hating my life, and longing to join my father—somewhere, anywhere with him—TI resolved to follow him, and thus I stood one dark night by the river's brink, and was only saved from seeking a winding sheet in the Avon’s depths at Bristol, by the sound of my dead father’s voice bidding me return to school, and leading me back, as I distinctly felt, by the hand. To me it seemed as if I had died then, and shortly afterwards commenced a new life in musical studies in Paris. But here it was that my unconquerable somnambulic tendencies impelled me to midnight wander ings, wild screams, and ultimate loss of my promising voice. At that time, in my grief and blighted prospects, I died to the lyric stage and tried to commence a new life as a pianiste and composer. Dear good Pierre Erard, the venerable founder of the grand pianoforte magasin in Paris, gave me the loan of a lovely instrument on condition of my coming every day to the warehouse and practising there for the behoof of buyers. .

Endless were the great and notable personages who came to Erard’s to hear the child pianiste, but when it was found that I was also a magnetic subject, and by a wave of the hand above my head, and even an unspoken wish on the part of my audience, that I could play any air desired, my poor mother became astonished and frightened at this new and unusual accomplishment, anxiously consulting a medical man on the subject—then so rare and illunderstood—she and others of my best friends were assured that I was under some evil, perhaps Satanic, influence, and that unless I was stopped in this mad career it would either end in permanent lunacy or death. Stopped, of course, my career as a musician was, and thus. I returned to England, adopted the stage as my profession, and became an actress. Of some years of strange and varied experiences at the Adelphi and other London theatres I do not propose to speak in detail; as a curious indication, however, of how the web of human life destiny may be spun out without either the volition or agency of the individuals most concerned, I will come to the closing chapter of my English theatrical experiences, only premising, in justice to others, what more than one living witness could, if they would, confirm, and that is that _ perhaps few young girls in narrow circumstances, leading a busy struggling life, were ever subject to more sore

EMMA HARDINGE - BRITTEN. ?

temptations from a vicious aristocracy than myself. With a few good steady friends, and an angel mother ever by my side, I steered my way through the Scylla and Charybdis of London stage life for a time, but with a closing story to tell, all too well known to many of my companions of that period, but one which has never before been made public, and one, it may be hoped, as rarely enacted as it may seem strange and incredible. By one cruel and remorseless persecutor, in the person of a baffled sensualist, several of the theatrical entrepreneurs by whom I was engaged or in treaty with, were induced by specially prepared golden arguments to cancel any engagements with me, so that I might be driven to the last necessity of placing myself under my millionaire enemy’s kind protection. Burning with rage rather than the despair so coolly relied upon; buoyed up, too, by youth and the everpresent unseen powers that I now so well know shaped my destiny, I endured this terrible taboo for a time, but under my good and beloved mother’s counsel I determined at length to baffle it. Having at that time in a great measure recovered my vocal powers, and having also been at one time strongly urged to pursue an Italian operatic career by Sir Michael Costa, I formed the sudden resolution of calling on him, telling him the almost incredible history which -was aiming to drive me from the London histrionic stage, and, under another name, offering to adopt an Italian operatic career. On calling at Sir Michael’s former residence, I found he had left it, and I could only learn that he had gone to reside in some one of the roads leading out of St.

John’s Wood. Proceeding at once in that direction, I became confused by the number of roads which invited attention, and whilst I was considering which path to choose, I noticed a crowd of persons standing around an open garden-gate half way along a quiet street, and I determined in my own mind to enquire of them, believing that I should there find the party I sought. As I neared the throng one of their. number, an actor I well knew—a Mr. G. H.—ran up to me, shook my hand warmly, and before I could utter a word, declared he was delighted to see me there, and that I was just the very person that was wanted. ‘“ Wanted; where, what, why, and by whom?” I gasped out. G. H. replied, all in a breath, that Mr. J. W. Wallack had advertised for an English company to take to the Imperial Theatre, at Paris, for high-class Shakesperian drama; that I was wanted, must come. Of course, he said I had come for that purpose, and he was sure I should be at once engaged. Before I could utter a word, either of enquiry or remonstrance, I was led up a long garden walk by my chattering enthusiastic friend, briefly presented to Mr. and Mrs. Wallack, who stood on the terrace of their house, shaken hands with, welcomed, and, in about less time than it has taken me to write this account, I had signed an engagement for so many weeks to play in the Imperial Theatre, Paris, with the J. W. Wallack Company, to start in four days, whilst the only stipulation that I was enabled to squeeze in, amidst a clamour of voices, explanations, and no explanations, was that the managers should permit me to take with me, and pay the passage of, my angel guardian, my ever faithful mother. ;

Once again, between the straits of Dover and Calais, I died to the London stage and arrived in Paris a new being. We had friends and acquaintances in the gay city, and though the Wallack Company was a total financial failure, and paid nobody, we spent many pleasant weeks in Paris when not busy at the theatre amongst my musical associates. I had nothing to regret, but still another new experience to learn, whilst another note of preparation rung out, in anticipation of my approaching future— magnetism and magnetic experiment were just then the

LEMMA WARDINGE BRITTEN. 9 rage in Paris. Again invited to morning séances at Erard’s pianoforte rooms, my intense susceptibility to occult powers brought me prominently under the notice of the magnetisers, amongst whom were not a few of the highest personages in the land. Tempting offers of engagements as a magnetic subject were made, but these were determinately rejected by my good mother, whose aversion to my participation in such experiments was equally steadfast and unconquerable. The last night of the English Wallack Company’s performances had arrived ; on that occasion I played in a little character piece of my own writing, and at its close, our most intimate friend in Paris. being, as was his custom, behind the scenes, introduced me to a gentleman whom I found talking with this friend and my mother, and endeavouring to convince her that the best and most attractive spot on earth for the display of my peculiar talents, etc., etc., was the B—— Theatre, of New York, of which he himself was the manager. He had watched me playing various parts many nights, he alleged, and had determined to engage me, and go to New York I must, and that immediately.

Looking through the dim haze of the future, as I had of late repeatedly done, all seemed impenetrably dark, utterly veiled from mortal sight in the direction of my native city of London—yet still there ever seemed to be looming up before me a new life, somewhere and somehow, one that gleamed like a prophetic vision, but the shape or nature of which I could not clearly discern. Was it, I often asked myself, in the magnetic flights to other and far distant worlds of being that these prophetic monitions were to be realised? My good mother’s positive veto had closed my chances of being a professional somnambulist. Was it to bein the New World then that T was to find the fresh path of discovery, of which, as yet, distant gleams alone had broken in upon my sight ?

Yet I shared the common and at one time vulgar prejudice of my country against America, and coldly tried to crush the enthusiasm of the American manager by promising to think of his offer, and let him know what we— that is, my mother and I—thought about it. “That would not do,” replied the gentleman, whom I at once mentally stamped as a “presumptuous Yankee.”

My mother did favour his offer, and as he was about. to embark on his return to New York immediately, my answer must be given at once—I must come. He would pay my mother’s passage out with my own, and engage me for nine months, at what seemed, to a young struggling girl like me, an excellent salary. An adjournment to an office room, a hastily drawn-up agreement, carefully written out instructions for the voyage, promised settlements for our passage, and final signatures on my part and that of my new manager, with any number of witnesses to documents on both sides ensued, and my future path in life and entrance upon a New World’s series of adventures was all concluded before the clocks of Paris struck twelve on that—to me—most momentous night.

Reviewing this hurried panorama of events, the next morning on first awakening, I concluded that the repeated assertion of my occult associates was correct, to wit—I was a good magnetic subject, and my new manager was a good magnetiser. Nevertheless, as I sprang from my bed with the question ringing in my ears “To be or not to be,” another and still clearer voice seemed to solve all my doubts and difficulties with the o’ertrue words, “There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.”

Chapter II

A MUCH greater and wiser writer than the one that dictates this chapter has said :—

“The foundations of Heaven are laid in Hell.”

And another—the renowned Dante—farther illustrates some of the special experiences of which I am about to write by remarking that “Out of the way of darkness cometh the path of light.”

It may be that I am destined to illustrate both these renowned sayings even in the humble footprints of her who traces out her own life memoirs in these (at present) unknown pages.

If I have abstained from dwelling upon the details of my early life and education, except in their general features and occupations, it is because I could not do justice to their many sad, strange, and even startling events without recalling names that I should now be reluctant to involve with my own, and mention personages who have played out their parts in life’s fitful drama, and passed on to scenes far removed from the paths which I have been called upon to tread.