Miss Porter might have been in a dream all through the night--granted.
But in these cases it is the "morning that brings counsel." We are all aware of the extraordinary lifelike dreams which, with the return of normal memory, we recognise as dream visions, no matter how vivid and credible they may have appeared to us in the night.
But with Miss Porter this normal process was reversed. She went to sleep quite calmly, and first realised, upon waking in the morning, how thoroughly _abnormal_ her experiences had been.
I pa.s.s on to the next criticism, which a little "editing" on my part could have averted:
"Is it credible that a woman, only just recovering from the surprise and marvel of such an experience, should write about it, within a few hours, to a favourite cousin, as if she were preparing a story for _The Family Herald_?"
I confess that this was my own feeling when the record was placed in my hands.
We must, however, remember--first, that the percipient was obviously a lady of great courage, or she would not have followed her ghost into the garden; secondly, that she was a keen observer and very accurate in details. Probably, many generations of schoolboys, pa.s.sing through her hands, may have quickened her perceptions in both these ways.
As for the stilted style, that presents little difficulty, when one remembers that people of a certain rank in life never use a short word when a long one will answer the purpose!
I claim nothing for the story, beyond the points already mentioned.
These are matters of _fact_.
Each one must interpret it according to his own views and prejudices.
It is quite enough for me to be responsible for the truth and accuracy of _my own_ experiences, to which we will now return.
_Note._--Since writing the above I have consulted the "Century Encyclopaedia," and find there:
"Oglethorpe--James Edward, born in London, December 21st, 1696, died at Cranham Hall, Ess.e.x, England, 1785. An English General and Philanthropist. He projected the Colony of Georgia for insolvent debtors, and persecuted Protestants; conducted the expedition for its settlement, 1733, and returned to England, 1743."
The apparent discrepancy between the date 1733 given in the Encyclopaedia, and the 1738 of Captain Carbury"s ghostly narrative, may be due to one of two causes:
The young girl copying Miss Porter"s letter may have mistaken a three for an eight rather easily.
Again, Captain Carbury did not state that he landed _with_ General Oglethorpe, 19th September 1738, but with General Oglethorpe"s regiment.
This latter may have been a reinforcement sent out to the General after his first landing in the Colony.
CHAPTER VII
LADY CAITHNESS AND AVENUE WAGRAM
Having spent the winter months of 1894 (from January to April) in Egypt, I was returning thence in the latter month with my friend Mrs Judge of Windsor. Our route was _via_ Paris, and I had arranged to spend a week there in the same hotel as the young Swedish lady whom I first met in India, and who has been referred to more than once in this record.
She told me she had made the acquaintance that winter of the famous "Countess of Caithness and d.u.c.h.esse de Pomar," and thinking it would interest me to meet this lady, she had asked for permission to introduce me to her.
As it turned out, Madame Brugel was unable to accompany me to the house, having several engagements for the afternoon, but she promised to "put in an appearance" later. So Mrs Judge and I drove off to the well-known mansion in the Avenue de Wagram, and were received very cordially by Lady Caithness.
I had once tried to read a very abstruse and mystic book by this lady, and had heard her spoken of as a more or less hopeless lunatic, "who imagined herself Mary Queen of Scots," and so forth.
Otherwise I went without prejudice, and being accustomed to judge for myself in such matters, came to the conclusion that Lady Caithness was an extremely shrewd woman, with her head remarkably "well screwed on,"
as the saying is. As regards her claims to be Mary Queen of Scots, I never heard these from her own lips, although I saw her daily for a week, and we had many interesting talks.
She certainly _did_ claim to be in very close relations with the ill-fated Queen of Scotland, but I do not know what views she may have held privately as to varied manifestations of the one spirit. I have heard Lord Monkswell propound an interesting theory, with Archdeacon Wilberforce in the chair, to the effect that as one short earth life gave small scope for spiritual experience and development, he thought it quite possible that the same spirit might have several bodily manifestations simultaneously, and that the judge and the criminal might conceivably be one and the same individual in two personalities!
It is possible that Lady Caithness may have had some such view, not theoretically (as was the case with Lord Monkswell), but as a matter of conviction, and apart from the limits of Time and s.p.a.ce involved in the conception of the latter.
I can only say that I never heard her speak of Mary Queen of Scots except as an ent.i.ty, quite distinct from herself. But that she carried the "Marie" _culte_ to great extremes is an undoubted fact. The hall and rooms on the ground floor of the Avenue Wagram House were arranged and furnished in close imitation of Holyrood Palace. I counted over fifty miniatures and other pictures of the Scottish Queen in the Countess"s beautiful bedroom alone, and later on shall have to speak more definitely of one life size and exquisitely painted portrait of the Queen.
But to return to this first reception.
I must confess that a somewhat inconveniently keen sense of humour found only too much nourishment on this occasion.
The Countess was magnificently dressed, as was usual with her, in priceless lace, falling over head and shoulders, and a beautiful tiara of various coloured jewels arranged over the lace. This was eccentric perhaps, considering the occasion, but not laughable. Lady Caithness, in addition to geniality, had enough quiet dignity to carry off the lace and jewels with success. I was chiefly amused by the att.i.tude of adoring humility and flattering appreciation shown by the numerous ladies already a.s.sembled when we arrived. Only one man was present, and he was a priest. Later I learned to appreciate the friendliness of the Abbe Pet.i.t and to admire his intellectual courage and manliness.
For the moment, seeing him surrounded by these female worshippers, hanging upon his lips as he discoursed to us about new readings of old truths, one was irresistibly reminded of certain scenes in Moliere"s "_Femmes Savantes_."
A lively little American lady (married to an Italian count) plied him with numerous questions in fluent French, spoken with an atrocious accent. Finally, she wished to hear the Abbe"s views upon _Melchisedech!_ In the midst of other questions and answers, the kindly little man managed to turn round to her with a cheery "_Ah, Madame la Comtesse! pour le Melchisedech--nous reviendrons tout de suite a Melchisedech!_" All the affairs of the religious universe were being wound up at a similar pace and in like fashion, and this final word of cheerful a.s.surance would have proved absolutely disastrous to me had I not been sitting close to my friend and able to whisper to her: "_Please dig your nails into my wrist--hard._" Any bodily pain was preferable to the hysterical laughter which had been so long suppressed and seemed now imminent.
But there was worse to come!
An Englishwoman, the very type of the characteristic British spinster, turned round, and addressed M. l"Abbe in laboured and extremely British French (I must leave the accent to be imagined and supplied by my reader):
"Mais, Monsieur l"Abbe! c"est le Protestantisme que vous nous enseignez la."
He turned round upon her in his wrath:
"Mais, Madame--ou MADEMOISELLE." (No print can convey the utter scorn and contempt of this last word.)
The rest of the sentence was lost to us in the loud laugh of the genial, good-tempered woman: "_Moi_, Mademoiselle! J"ai ete mariee vingt ans et j"ai six enfants!"
The whole scene was too funny for words, and, with the exception of this good lady, all present took themselves as seriously as a University don!
It was a real relief when the solemnity of the reception broke up and we were ushered into the adjoining dining-room for an excellent tea. Here I came upon my Swedish friend, who had only just arrived, and "missed all the fun." She told me there was to be a _seance_ held in the house next day, and that she had been asking the Countess if I might not be present. "_It might amuse you, Kat!_" was her irreverent way of putting it. "_Unfortunately, there seems to be some difficulty about it._"
At this moment Lady Caithness came up, and cordially expressed her regrets that she could not accede to Madame Brugel"s suggestion.
"Had you been staying until next week, Miss Bates, I would gladly have arranged for it, but to-morrow is a very special occasion. As a matter of fact, I have promised M. Pet.i.t that no one shall be present except himself and me, and the two female mediums, of course. On Wednesday we are to have a crowded meeting here--all the well-known people in Paris will come--and M. l"Abbe will read his paper explaining that he can no longer blind his eyes to the new light breaking upon the world through scientific discovery, etc., but that he remains a loyal son of the Church, if the Church will allow him to do so. It is, of course, a very trying and anxious ordeal; for many priests will be present, also a cardinal and one or more of our bishops. So the _seance_ to-morrow will be specially devoted to receiving last instructions for the paper he is about to read, and some words, we trust, of encouragement and hope."
Of course, I hastened to a.s.sure Lady Caithness of my full comprehension of her point, and added that I was only sorry she should have been asked to alter her arrangements on my account.
"But you will join us on Wednesday at the meeting, I trust? It will be held at three P.M., in a large room on the ground floor, which is arranged for such gatherings. I shall expect you then, so we will not say good-bye."
This was heaping coals of fire on my head; for so observant a woman as Lady Caithness must have noticed my difficulty in keeping a grave face earlier in the afternoon!
Now comes a curious point. As we left the house Madame Brugel in expressing disappointment about the next evening, added: "And yet somehow I think you will go after all."