EVIDENCE FROM SCOTLAND

My friend Mr. James Robertson, of Glasgow, is a bicycle manufacturer. He is seventy years of age, a spiritist of some thirty-five years’ standing, and author of Spiritualism : The Open Door to the Unseen Universe. Although he leaves it to my discretion to “cut and carve” as much as I like, I prefer to leave his narrative just as he wrote it. It reveals the man better than anything I can say of him. His letter is appended :—

5 Granby Terrace,

Glasgow, W.

November 11, 1912

Dear Admiral Moore,—I now send you some pages I have penned, and, though they may lack the direct point which your own articles have conveyed, still I hope you will be able to make some use of them. I cannot say that I am at all pleased with what is sent, and had some thoughts of beginning again, but have resolved to let them go as they are. The beginning you will think perhaps out of place. One of my daughters to whom I handed the pages for perusal said: “Cut all that out”; but I will leave you to cut and carve as much as you like, and if you should think of sending them back to me with any hints I will do what you may desire. With all kind regards and appreciation of your grand work.—Yours most sincerely,

James Robertson.

Carlyle has said; ”Men have lost their faith in the invisible, and believe and hope and work only in the Visible.” The belief in another world, whose inhabitants could take cognisance of this sphere, has been a very vague and shadowy faith. Only the material, the immediately practical, has been of import to us. Of course we had traditions, which we thought we believed in; but no feeling of certainty came into our lives. The wisest and best of men, with the largest culture of the intellect, found nothing in their investigations of external nature which gave the slightest hint of this invisible world of which ancient books had somewhat feebly spoken. That the world could become possessed of such new phenomena, a new power and knowledge that could relate to us an invisible world, was thought to be the rudest conception that could be offered. Neither the men of accomplished minds nor the custodians of religious verities would admit for a long time that nature had such possibilities to unfold. It has to be admitted that this new phenomena, which claimed to relate us to this unseen universe, did not show their best face at first. It seemed crude and rude that a revelation of such transcendent importance as the opening of the gates of that other world should be ushered in by noises, which naturally clashed with our prepossessions regarding that hidden realm. It was an appeal only to our external senses. But, like every new thing, it gradually presented to the world a more varied programme; the same power which caused the rappings claimed to move the pen and lips of those who first paid attention to the matter, and soon there were great numbers who spoke out messages that bore evidence of being prompted by those whom we had talked about as dead. A light began to shine in the darkness; scientific and scholarly minds were attracted to the subject, and found that the messages poured out were neither unintelligible nor obscure, but bore the stamp of reason, of wisdom, and were in accord with the principles of nature. How the light spread at first over the continent

of Europe, and eventually found a footing in England, it is not my province to dwell upon. That such men as D. D. Home raised the temperature of many thinking minds is undoubted. The phenomena which transpired in his presence dissipated much of the materialism which abounded, and gave an elevation of soul to many who were made to feel that religion might be a tangible thing after all. That such men as Crookes, Wallace, and Robert Chambers were attracted to this man evidences that there was a current of noble quality running through him. Thackeray was brave enough to admit intro the columns of the Cornhill Magazine (then in its palmy days) an article which described the phenomena which transpired in Home’s presence. Society invariably shows small favours to its guides and teachers, and so Home, with all his striking gifts, which brought consolation to weary hearts, had to run the gauntlet of fierce opposition. Many a poisoned arrow was aimed at him, but he left behind a record which is unassailable. It is quite thirty-six years since I was drawn into contact with this modern spiritual movement, at a time when I utterly disbelieved in the possibility of any light on the subject of a future life being possible. It is said that to become thoroughly acquainted with a truth we must first have disputed it. I held the idea in such contempt that I could not calmly listen to its claims; and yet, when I did open my mind and viewed the facts, these facts beat me, and I have never had cause to retrace my steps. I was illuminating throwing a light for me on every realm of thought. Vague yearnings were satisfied, dreamy fancies became realities. It became a fountain whose waters refreshed with gladness my whole being. It was crude phenomena, which the world would laugh at, that brought the conviction that unseen beings could act on matter, that they could see us, read our minds, and reveal an intelligence outside the knowledge of the sitters. It has been my privilege to come into close contact with nearly all the phenomenal mediums, whose powers make evident that they are but the servants of those who are wiser than themselves. Light has been shed through every form of mediumship. I have looked at faces I had known on earth; I have heard descriptions given by clairvoyants which were photographic of the person described; I have had messages hundreds of times which could only bear one interpretation—that is, they were the thoughts of those we called dead. I knew intimately for years the three brothers Duguid, who were most plastic in the hands of the spirit operators. I became intimate with their inspirers and helpers, and I have the conviction that these spirit workers were all they claimed to be—simple-minded Indians, or philosophers, or painters such as Jan Steen and Ruisdael. This other world has a mission to bring home to earth-dwellers that immortality is a natural fact, and that the real salvation of the world will be brought about when humanity realises its truth. I have had close acquaintanceship with the workers whose mental phenomena have produced a literature which cannot die away into insignificance and oblivion, for the writings of Davis and Tuttle are a perennial well from which the most useful knowledge comes forth. Years of friendly converse with the inspirers of Mr. J. J. Morse and Mr. E. W. Wallis have built up a conviction which nothing can destroy. It has been in my own home—perhaps sitting with my own family—that my inmost heart has been reached, and all doubt of the loving friendship of spirit people has been dissipated for ever.

I thought after thirty-five years close observation that I had been brought as close to the spirit people as ever I would likely get; but in this I have been mistaken. I had clear memories of Lottie Fowler’s mediumship, which perhaps was the most striking of my experience. A fragile woman, yet one who forced conviction on you, your whole life and its circumstances being opened out. I have always thought of her as being the high-water mark of mediumistic development. It was a vision which could

not be disputed, but it was fitful and erratic, becoming cloudy at intervals, the woman herself giving little idea of spiritual development. She was a machine through which spirit people found they could carry conviction of their presence and power. I have met with many who, through her gifts, have been brought from the depths of their grief to participate in a pure joy.

I had thought, as I have said, till the autumn of 1911 that the channel of communication had been opened as wide as it would ever be in my day. I had read Admiral Moore’s clear-cut descriptions in Light and Reason of his experiences with Mrs. Wriedt of Detroit and had perhaps the feeling that the statements made were coloured, or that America gave conditions which were not available in this country. This doubt, however, had soon to be dissipated. My friend Councillor Appleyard, of Sheffield, wrote me that he had Mrs. Wriedt as a guest staying with him, that he proposed bringing her north on a holiday jaunt, and that she would be pleased to give me a sitting, with liberty to invite such friends as I desired. I spent the evening of her arrival at her hotel, and the next morning, with Mr. And Mrs. Appleyard, we went on an excursion to Loch Long and Loch Lomond. I had a whole day’s converse with her, and found her clear, simple, and true, glittering with no lustre but that of common sense. At night there were gathered together in my library the friends and relatives whom I had invited—a company of fifteen persons in all. The place in which we sat had oft-times been used for such gatherings, while the group of persons assembled had all seen something of the subject except one man, a minister of the Church of Scotland. I had met this gentleman on board a steamer while on a trip to the Canary Islands a short time before; I had given him a promise that if, at any time, I had any satisfactory evidence to offer which would substantiate the truth of what we had spoken so much about, I would invite him to be present.

We sat in the darkness, the trumpet having before this been brought out of its case and handed round for inspection, being afterwards set on the floor in the middle of the room. I was not anxious for any tests of spirit identity personally; my wish being that the others who needed it more might get the full assurance that had been mine for so many years. My desires, however, did not rule. We had been conversing together for only a few minutes when a loud and clear voice was heard speaking, Mrs Wriedt informed us that this was Dr. Sharp, whose work it was to manage matters from his side of life. I heard voices speaking, faintly, close to me but could not well make out what was said. “Did I not know Harry Smith?” I was asked by the Doctor. “Yes,” I said, and then Harry related his story, which was not of any deep import to me beyond the great fact it demonstrated that here was one I had known on earth who could still interest himself in me. Harry Smith was a mechanic who had been in my employment for many years. Of course he knew of my devotion to Spiritualism, and had heard me speak at our hall. Not only had he come, but he had brought with him several other old servants who were determined to speak, and would only resign the trumpet when they were fully recognised. I confess that, while this talk was going on, I was anxious it would end; I felt I was monopolising the power, while the stories of these old mechanics were not of the first importance to me. There they were, however, and left quite happy when I had admitted the truth of some trifling incident they brought to my memory. A most interesting feature in all this was the part played by Dr. Sharp. You felt here was a strong robust nature who was guiding a team, pulling up this one and letting some other go in front, determined that those he let come to the front should be understood; While Mrs. Wriedt came in now and again with a word to straighten out matters when they were apt to get confused. The form of mediumship I was now

witnessing was quite new to me. I felt I was being brought closer than ever before to the dead; there was a sense of face-to-face conversation, a steady, continuous stream of speech, not fugitive and streaky, but robust and direct. The unseen friends seemed determined that I should be saturated with evidence, whether I desired it or not. My Son-in-law, who was accidentally killed in Italy some years ago, came and revealed a personality about which there could be no mistake. Evidently Dr. Sharp had no trouble in teaching him how to use the trumpet; he was a man of quick intelligence, scientific to the finger-tips. He spoke of the past so clearly, and of the present position of his wife and children, naming them without hesitation, and showing that he had the most complete knowledge of things as they were. It was among the finest bits of evidence I ever had that the veil which separated human hearts was a very thin one. Some things which were not detailed, but suggested, carried as much to my mind as his other narrative; the subtle hints were a revelation of character which could scarcely have been more complete. That the members of the family were deeply moved is only a prosaic expression; there was a stirring up of the whole nature, a confidence which no time can weaken; a knowledge which will warm life, and a light borne in which is real sunshine.

My dear old mother, who in the earth life had so many regrets that I had drifted to what she called “unbelief,” came and expressed her gladness that I had followed the light that had come. Of her presence in our midst I had oft-times been made familiar, but here she was again, if not in the body at least in the heart. She spoke to my girls, who were present, as only she and no other would speak, calling them by the pet names she used while on earth, and which had been forgotten, made reference by name to other members of the family, and revealed an identity about which there could be no mistake.

The voice of my mother was the voice I was familiar with, the same broad Doric speech, as if she had never gone from us. The Scotch idioms were never departed from for a moment; if we did not see her in the habit in which she lived, we, at least, felt she was unchanged in manner; the girls present were still children to her, and her memory of the earth life and its people quite keen. She spoke to me as if we had but parted yesterday, called me “Jeems” as she had always done while in the body, and as she had often done since when influencing other mediums to speak to me. Here, it was speaking direct as it were without using another’s voice. Mrs. Wriedt could not by any possibility have given a replica of the Scotch tones I heard, for while my mother was conversing with my daughters the medium was talking in her usual Yankee tones.

It was not my mother alone who spoke in true Scotch; each one of the spirit visitors who had been natives alike spoke in the vernacular in which they had been reared, without a tinge of anything foreign. My friend, Mr. Peter Galloway, a Glasgow merchant, held communication with his two sons, who had been drowned in the Atlantic, in the purest Scotch; and marvellous was the knowledge they seemed to have of their father’s going-out and coming-in in his daily life. A clever imitator could not keep up the Scottish dialect beyond a few words; he could not deceive a native who had been used to our lowland Scotch. Dr. Sharp, the controlling intelligence, who claimed to have been a native of Glasgow, used many Scotch words, quite like one of ourselves, but he did not keep this up for long. Once, when he asked us to sing together an old Scotch song, which he named with a true accent, I asked him where he could have heard it; he at once said, ”I learned it at my mother’s knee.”

All of this conversing with the so called dead, however regarded by those who have not come in touch with spiritual phenomena, had no relation to miracle, magic, or monkish legends, but was a plain, natural fact, proving that the world of spirit and the world of matter were no longer Twain, but looked into one. As Milton said long ago; “Man is one world, and hath another to attend him”; and here was the evidence.

Perhaps as striking as my own experiences were those of the clergyman who had not come close to the subject before. He had at one time had a charge in Canada, and quite a number of his old parishioners came and spoke to him. It was amusing to hear some of the quaint names, which the minister recognised at once, and the incidents which were recalled to his mind. “I don’t remember that, Jerry,” the minister would say; but Jerry would go on bringing out something more which had to be admitted. Incidents of his Canadian career were told out and accepted without difficulty. A brother also came to him and spoke about the members of his family. The minister evidently felt that what we were participating in was the common daily food with which spiritualists were regaled at their gatherings. He had no idea of the patient efforts by which many had drawn together the accumulated bits that had brought conviction. It is not often that anyone at once has the evidence of the unseen world brought home conclusively. But something of more importance was to follow. A personality of more importance now came upon the scene, a voice unlike all the others which preceded it—that of Andrew Jackson Davis. The great seer had been very close to me for years; while in the body our correspondence was frequent, and he unburdened himself to me about many things which were unknown to the world. After his death he gave me a message to send to his wife through the mediumship of Miss McCreadie and asked her to send me the skullcap he wore at home, which his wife, accepting the message as valid, at once did; so that it will be seen that there was a link formed between Davis and myself which would naturally bring me into my surroundings.

It was not to me, however so much as the clergyman to whom Davis spoke. He had evidently read his mind, and seen the wavering between the wish to believe and the ability to do so. With a lofty eloquence and clear, calm enthusiasm for truth, he gave a reading of the inner side of his nature, and urged him to follow the light that had come to him, at whatever cost. It was a magnificent piece of rhetoric, burning with the loftiest ideals. It was purely spiritual, the mundane being cast aside. Scarcely ever before have I listened to an address from the spirit side that conveyed so much, compressed into such a short space. It did not go beyond the senses’ comprehension; there was nothing suffuse, but a simple sublimity that touched all. The seer who had given himself to the discovery of truth seemed bent on its diffusion. The minister said but little, he recognised that the person who spoke had read his heart, knew all his doubts and fears, and how his mind had been swaying to and fro. When he had returned to his parish he at once wrote me that, while he never doubted the reality of the unseen world, what had been given at that séance was most extraordinary. “It is cheering and assuring.” He continued, “That the communication can be so clearly established. Andrew Jackson Davis’s address to me will remain vivid and impressive, and I hope inspiring during my earth life.” That some chord was struck and kept vibrating is evidenced from the fact that, a few weeks afterwards, I was surprised to hear from him that he had resigned his charge, where he was loved and respected. Davis had evidently given his mental struggles some power to come to a decision as to his attitude towards truth as it was now presented to him. I do not know that what he wrote me revealed to the full the influence the séance had upon him. He wrote:

“Lest you attach any blame to yourself” (I had advised him to hold on to his work, as, situated as he was, his sympathy and tenderness would be an influence for good, more perhaps than in the open field), “I hasten to say that, perhaps for twelve years, I have thought as I now think, and have fought against the thought, compromised, and did as well as I could. I will confess, however, that Mr. Davis’s words at the séance thrilled me.” I need not add more on this point, but return to other incidents of the séance. Dr. Sharp explained the difficulty he had in teaching the crowd who were around us how to form the vocal chord, so that we might hear the voices clearly, One old friend of mine, who was present, is a lady who had waded through a sea of troubles, many of a very tragic nature, yet ever feeling strengthened through the blessed light of spirit communion. There are some persons who find no difficulty in their quest for light. I have met with those who, I was apt to think, were credulous, so readily did spiritual communications reach them; but I have learned to recognise that there is a receptivity in the nature of some which is not in others; that, while many have to wait outside the gates for long before conviction comes, there are others who in a moment recognise the reality of the spirit’s presence. To this lady there came messages which touched and reached her inmost heart. All flowed to her so naturally, the messages from husband and family gone on. There was only one conviction that could be borne in— that a door was actually open through which the inhabitants of another world came and gave us glimpses of their continued affection, and of their active, earnest, natural life. I know that such gatherings as I am seeking to chronicle are rare. With us there was the most complete harmony—each was calm and confiding. With one accord and mind we sat in a room which had been oft-times magnetised with the spirit’s presence, so that what might be called perfect conditions prevailed. If what transpired among us, the many bits of spirit identity, could only have been realised by the outside world, then the great question had been conclusively settled. Doubt could no more prevail; gloom and darkness would disappear, for we had the certainty that our dead (so-called) were alive. I have not given a garbled description of what transpired, yet I have left untold many bits of deep interest which concerned the several sitters, all of whom had some conclusive evidence. Wonderful was the playing on an unseen cornet and the melodious voices which sang at intervals. We sat for over two hours amid this ameliorating and uplifting influence. How much more of evidence regarding a future state must needs be given before the minds of men will be conquered? Will humanity continue to envelop themselves in the shadows of tradition while this real light is showing itself in their midst? Sir Oliver Lodge once said: We were so conservative in our temperament that it took three generations before a proved fact, if it was a novel one, could enter into the minds of the people, with the view of its being incorporated into the daily life. Three generations have now gone since the advent of modern spiritualism, so that the ripened period is at hand when across the doorway the greetings of the unseen will be gratefully accepted. Mrs. Wriedt, unlike others who have carried the torch of truth, makes no claim to be a superior person, but only an instrument who helps to reveal, in measure, the possibilities that belong to our human nature. It was admirable to see the calm, unaffected manner with which she sat through the proceedings—a spectator seemingly outside it all, nothing seemingly abnormal. There was no show of vanity or conceit, only a sense of gladness that so much consolation had come to those who had gathered together. All the marvels I had witnessed before were a prophesy of what had now come before me, and I saw in the future time a still further evolution of spiritual gifts springing forth which would remove the last tinge of doubt regarding an after death state. Never before was I so deeply affected by the great possibilities the future had in store. I saw the crust of

prejudice being broken through and a new brighter colour given to human life through the certainty that death does not put an end to the co-operation which had existed. Other voices will be heard which will win their way to the world’s recognition that there has been found a pathway to another world.

However doubtful be the welcome they may receive now, there is no cause for fear; they will stay in our midst till recognition has come. And it is certain that, even as the evidence has become more clear, and science has begun to give attention to the subject in our day, the doorway will open wider all the time. The volume of well­attested facts which Admiral Moore has brought together cannot be sneered at nor ignored; they are in line with what Crookes and Wallace had previously attested, and in harmony with the natural world in which we live.

During the summer of 1912 I have been privileged to be present at several other gatherings at which Mrs. Wriedt has been present. At all of these there have been similar revealments of the presence of my dead friends, and messages given in languages of which the medium could have no knowledge. I have realised more fully than ever that we do not need to wait till death before we can come into touch with the spirit world. As Gerald Massey has said: “Instead of the other world remaining dim and helplessly afar off—a possibility to some; a doubt to others; a perplexity to many, and an abstraction to most—it will be made a living verity, visible to many, audible to more, present with and operant through all.”

By Mr. Thomson

An account of two sittings with Mrs. Wriedt, the American trumpet medium, held in the house of James Robertson, 5 Granby Terrace, Glasgow :—

For some months back I had been much interested in an account of séances held with the above medium by Vice-Admiral Usborne Moore; and one day, before going off to Fife for my holidays, I called on Mr. Robertson, when he told me that he had just got a letter from Councillor Appleyard, of Sheffield. It was to the effect that Mrs. Wriedt was staying with him as his guest, and that he intended to bring her to Scotland for a holiday, and would be delighted to give Mr. Robertson the opportunity of arranging for a sitting or two.

We arranged there and then that I would be present, and I was delighted to get the chance of studying this, to me, new phase of mediumship.

At the first sitting there were fifteen of us, and it was held in absolute darkness, the window-shutters being closed, and then covered over with heavy curtains. Mrs. Wriedt we found to be quite American in her style, with the usual smart, confident, and assertive manner of talking which is peculiar to the U.S.A.

Her visible stage property was an aluminium trumpet, which I think was in three sections, and could be drawn out in telescopic fashion to about two feet. She explained that, usually, the trumpet would touch the party who was to be spoken to.

The library table had been removed from the room, and we sat in the circle with the trumpet standing upright in the middle of the floor. After the light was switched off, it was not long before a number of friends and relations of Mr. Robertson’s family spoke through the trumpet and gave to them satisfactory proof of identity.