The Mastery of Success. Thorstein Veblen
by those in the “circle.” They thumped time to lively tunes, and seemed to have a decidedly good time of it in their particular way. When the séance was concluded, Mr. Paine freely permitted an examination of his table.
In the Sunday Spiritual Conferences, then held in Clinton Hall, leading spiritualists gave an account of the “manifestations of the spirits” through Mr. Paine, and, as believers, congratulated themselves upon the existence of such “indubitable facts.” The spiritualist in whose house this exhibition of table-moving “without contact” took place, was well known as a man of strict honesty; and it was reasonably presumed that no mechanical contrivance could be used without his cognizance, in thus moving a piece of his furniture—for the table belonged to him—and that he would countenance a deception was out of the question.
There were in the city three gentlemen who had, for some time, been known as spiritualists; but they were, at the period of Paine’s début as a medium in New York, very skeptical with regard to “physical manifestations.” They had, a short time before, detected the Davenports and other professed mediums in the practice of imposture; and they determined not to accept, as true, Paine’s pretence to mediumship, till after a thorough investigation of his “manifestations,” they should fail to find a material cause for them. After attending several of his séances, these gentlemen concluded that Paine moved the table by means of a mechanical contrivance fixed under the floor. One of this trio of investigators was a mechanic, and he had conceived a way—and it seemed to him the only way—in which the “manifestation” could be produced under the circumstances that apparently attended it. Paine was a mechanic, and these parties were aware of that fact. They made an appointment with him for a private séance. The evening fixed upon, having arrived, they met with him at his room. The table was raised and raps were made upon it, as had been done on previous occasions. One of the three investigators stepped to the door of the room, locked it, put the key in his pocket, took off his coat, and told Mr. Paine that he was determined to search his (Paine’s) person, and that if he did not find about him a small short iron rod, by means of which, through a hole in the floor, a lever underneath was worked in moving the table, he (the speaker) would beg his (Mr. Paine’s) pardon, and be forever after a firm believer in the power of disembodied spirits to move ponderable bodies. This impressive little speech had a decided and instant effect upon the “medium.” “Gentlemen,” said the latter, “I might as well own up. Please to be quietly seated, and I will tell you all about it.” And he did tell them all about it; subsequently repeating his confession before quite a number of disgusted and cheaply sold spiritualists at the “New York Spiritual Lyceum.” The theory formed by one of the three investigators referred to, as to Paine’s method of moving the table, was singularly correct.
Whilst the family with whom Paine boarded was away, one day, in attendance at a funeral, he took up several of the floor boards of the back parlor, and on the under side of them affixed a lever, with a cross-piece at one end of it; and, in the ends of the cross-piece, bits of wire were inserted, the wire being just as far apart as the legs of the table to be moved. Small holes were made in the floor-boards for the wire to come through to reach the table-legs. The other end of the lever came within an inch or two of the wall. When all the arrangements were completed, and the table being properly placed in order to move it, Mr. Paine had only to insert one end of a short iron rod in a hole in the heel of his boot, put the other end of the rod through a hole in the floor, just under the edge of the carpet near the wall, and then press the rod down upon the end of the lever.
The movements necessary in fixing the iron rod to its place were executed while he was picking up his handkerchief, that he had purposely dropped.
The middle of the lever was attached to the floor, and the end with the cross-piece, being the heavier, brought the other end close up against the floor, the wires in the cross-piece having their points just within the bottom of the holes in the floor. The room was carpeted, and there were little marks on the carpet, known only to Paine, that enabled him to know just where to place the table. Pressing down the end of the lever nearest the wall, an inch would bring the wires in the cross-piece on the other end of the lever against the legs of the table, and slightly raise the latter. One of the wires would strike the table-leg a very little before the other did, and that enabled the “medium” to very nicely rap time to the tunes that were sung or played. Of course, no holes that any one could observe would be made in the carpet by the passage of the wires through it.
For appearance’ sake, Paine, before his detection, visited, by invitation, the houses of several different spiritualists, for the purpose of holding séances; but he never got a table to move “without contact” in any other than the place where he had properly prepared the conditions.
CHAPTER XVI.
SPIRITUALIST HUMBUGS WAKING UP.—FOSTER HEARD FROM.—S. B. BRITTAN HEARD FROM.—THE BOSTON ARTISTS AND THEIR SPIRITUAL PORTRAITS.—THE WASHINGTON MEDIUM AND HIS SPIRITUAL HANDS.—THE DAVENPORT BROTHERS AND THE SEA-CAPTAIN’S WHEAT-FLOUR.—THE DAVENPORT BROTHERS ROUGHLY SHOWN UP BY JOHN BULL.—HOW A SHINGLE “STUMPED” THE SPIRITS.
I hear from spiritualists sometimes. These gentry are much exercised in their minds by my letters about them, and some of them fly out at me very much as bumblebees do at one who stirs up their nest. For instance, I received, not long ago, from my good friends, Messrs. Cauldwell & Whitney, an anonymous letter to them, dated at Washington, and suggesting that if I would attend what the latter calls “a séance of that celebrated humbug, Foster,” I should see something that I could not explain. Now, this anonymous letter, as I know by a spiritual communication, (or otherwise,) is in a handwriting very wonderfully like that of Mr. Foster himself. And as for the substance of it, it is very likely that Foster has now gotten up some new tricks. He needs them. The exhibiting mediums must, of course, contrive new tricks as fast as Dr. Von Vleck and men like him show up their old ones. It is the universal method of all sorts of impostors to adopt new means of fooling people when their old ones are exposed. And Mr. Foster shall have all the attention he wants if I ever find the leisure to bestow on him, though my time is fully occupied with worthier objects.
I have also been complimented with a buzz and an attempt to sting from my old friend S. B. Brittan, the ex-Universalist minister—the very surprisingly efficient “man Friday” of Andrew Jackson Davis, in the production of the “Revelations” of the said Davis, and also ghost-fancier in general; who has gently aired part of his vocabulary in a communication to the “Banner of Light,” with the heading “Exposed for Two Shillings.” I can afford very well to expose friend Brittan and his spiritualist humbugs for two shillings. The honester the cheaper. It evidently vexes the spiritualists to have their ghosts put with the monkeys in the Museum. They can’t help it, though; and it is my deliberate opinion that the monkeys are much the most respectable. I have no wish to displease any honest person; but the more the spiritualists squirm, and snarl, and scold, and call names, the more they show that I am hurting them. Or—does my friend Brittan himself want an engagement at the Museum? Will he produce some “manifestations” there, and get that $500?—the money is ready!
A valued friend of mine has furnished me a pleasant and true narrative of a fine “spiritual” humbug which took place in a respectable Massachusetts village not very long ago. I give the story in his own graphic words:
“Two artists of Boston, tired of the atmosphere of their studios, resolved themselves, in joint session, into spiritual mediums, as a means of raising the wind—or the devil—and of getting a little fresh air in the rural districts. One of them had learned Mansfield’s trick of answering communications and that of writing on the arms. They had large handbills printed, announcing that “Mr. W. Howard, the celebrated test-medium, would visit the town of –-, and would remain at the –- Hotel during three days.” One of the artists preceded the other by a few hours, engaged rooms, and attended to sundry preliminaries. “Mr. Howard” donned a white choker, put his hair behind his ears, and mounted a pair of plain glass spectacles; and such was his profoundly spiritual appearance on entering his apartments at the hotel, that he had to lock the door and