St. Louis April 1899
It was rare for Adolphe to speak at one of our meetings, but he said he wanted to address the group with something on his mind. Our schedule was packed all year with Millennial fervor, and there was much speculation about the role of Spiritualism in this coming age. Adolphe didn’t share the topic of his talk with me, which was unusual.
That Sunday night at Howard’s Hall, he asked the assemblage, “Many of you tonight share my foreboding about what the new century will bring us. In my lifetime, I have seen war, disease, unrest, and the exploitation of the poor and vulnerable. What shall we do if our trials grow? If, in the new century, the lone dim light that sustains us should fade, what then? If we cannot find our way out of the dark forest of ignorance, whose hand will reach out to guide us?
“For decades we were told that the priesthood had these answers. Certainly, to be religious is a natural impulse, and many Christian values are to be commended. But the Spiritualists in this room know that priests are not the guides we are longing for. It is instead the continuity of existence—in life and through death— that will sustain us. We are all basking in the unseen grace of our forebears and loved ones. As Spiritualists, we seek to illuminate this grace, so that we can follow them into the Light, and not wander into the darkness of superstition—”
“Stop that, sir! I am a good Catholic, and I won’t permit it!” The voice came from a woman seated towards the back. Adolphe squinted and peered into the audience, and those of us seated in front turned to see who had caused the disturbance. Two of her companions were attempting to pull her back into her seat, but she shrugged them off. She raised her fist towards Adolphe: “I won’t allow you to proceed!”
Adolphe hesitated, looked down at his notes, and then continued to speak: “—our duty is to those multitudes who are held in the bonds of ecclesiastical legends and dogmas which obscure these truths.” This utterance induced the woman to further object and push her way into the aisle.
Adolphe waved Rev. Grimshaw to the podium. The reverend is a fiery orator, and he began to address the woman directly while Adolphe made his way towards her with grim determination. “Madame,” Rev. Grimshaw said, “Spiritualism is a doctrine of doing good and acting honestly toward one another. We profess not forms and ceremonies, nor long prayers and longer faces, but kindness, justice, and good works. Surely your priests could not object to our goals, even if you object to our beliefs?”
“Sinner! You should be ashamed!” the woman retorted. Someone had raised the lights and Adolphe attempted to guide her towards the door. She responded by kicking him in the shins.
“Madame, I really must ask you to leave before the police are called.”
“I defy you to stop me!” the woman cried.
Adolphe finally tossed his hands in the air and swore in German. “Then we are at an impasse!” he said, and stalked back up to the aisle to sit beside me.
“At least you tried,” I said, adjusting his cravat for him.
Someone must have sent for the police anyway, because two very large men in uniform arrived. “You can’t arrest me!” she insisted, but the larger of the two disagreed. She resisted by going completely limp, arms and legs akimbo on the ground, like a dog who does not want to return home after its walk. The second officer picked her up by her feet and they carried her out to the pavement and stood over her until she agreed to put up no further resistance and go quietly to the station.
Naturally, we abandoned all attempts to resume the meeting, and at home over some warm milk and nutmeg, Adolphe and I considered what had happened—resistance to Spiritualism was not uncommon, but it rarely took such a dramatic form.
“I’m sorry this ruined your grand oration,” I said.
He shrugged in his usual carefree way. “At least this night will not soon be forgotten.”
“What would you have said if you had been able to continue your lecture?”
He did not answer me for a time, only gazing at the glowing coals in the hearth. When Vena peeked in to say goodnight, he neglected his usual wish for a good night’s rest. We kept whisky in the house for guests and I thought this might be a conversation needing stronger stuff, so I topped up our nightcaps and waited for him to collect his thoughts.
“I’m having my doubts about our faith,” he said finally.
This shocked me, as we had witnessed so many of the same “proofs” over the years. No matter how shabby the manifestations seemed to me, he had never wavered in his beliefs. “What has happened to shake your certainty?”
“I have been brooding over all the calamities that befall us as a people—the wars, the famines, the fear of the other. If our loving dead watch over us, where are they in these times of great need? Why are they only satisfied to visit us in our comfortable parlors, and amuse us with strumming guitars and wobbling tables?”
I smiled. “Similar questions are asked of the gods in every faith, I think.”
He put his drink down and turned to face me. “I have cared so much about proof, but what good is proof if the outcome does not matter? Humanity suffers all the same whether the spirits are among us or in heaven or have gone into the void. I’m afraid that if our suffering escalates, and neither Spiritualism nor religion can bring comfort, I won’t know where to turn.”
“Adolphe, I have never seen you so beset—your optimism has always been the bedrock which sustains our marriage.”
He saw the alarm in my countenance and shook his head, taking my hands. “I do not wish to upset you, my love. I was hoping the fellowship of the Association would restore my good cheer once I confessed my misgivings.”
“Rev. Grimshaw would no doubt have turned the full force of his rhetoric on you instead of that poor woman,” I laughed.
“Yes, and it ought to be one like him, and not my wife, who sets me right. I value your sensible nature, even when you downplay your own experiences. I do not expect you to shepherd me back into the Spiritualist fold.” He brushed some stray hairs out of my face. “But I need you in my life for everything else.”
I worried when he said that. My remaining siblings had died in the last year; I was the last of us left. Adolphe was only 55, but I was already much older, and increasingly unwell.