Seen and Unseen

Seen and Unseen, by E.
Katharine Bates

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Title: Seen and Unseen
Author: E. Katharine Bates
Release Date: April 12, 2007 [EBook #21041]
Language: English
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SEEN AND UNSEEN
BY E. KATHARINE BATES
NEW YORK DODGE PUBLISHING COMPANY 214-220 EAST
23RD STREET
1908

First Published July 1907
Second Impression October 1907
Third Impression March 1908
----------
Popular Edition 1908

To
C. E. B.
IN MEMORY OF
ONE WHO LOVED AND SUFFERED
AND IN THE SURE AND CERTAIN HOPE
OF A JOYFUL MEETING WITH
HIM, AND WITH OTHERS
WHO HAVE CROSSED
THE BAR

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTION ix I. EARLY RECOLLECTIONS 1 II.
INVESTIGATIONS IN AMERICA, 1885-1886 13 III. AUSTRALIA
AND NEW ZEALAND 49 IV. HONG KONG, ALASKA, AND NEW
YORK 71 V. INDIA, 1890-1891 80 VI. SWEDEN AND RUSSIA,
1892 97 AN INTERLUDE 129 VII. LADY CAITHNESS AND THE
AVENUE WAGRAM 144 VIII. FROM OXFORD TO WIMBLEDON
161 IX. 1896, HAUNTINGS BY THE LIVING AND THE DEAD 176
X. FURTHER EXPERIENCES IN AMERICA 195 XI. A HAUNTED
CASTLE IN IRELAND 218 XII. 1900-1901, ODDS AND ENDS 232
XIII. 1903, A SECOND VISIT TO INDIA 260 XIV. A FAMILY
PORTRAIT AND PSYCHIC PHOTOGRAPHY 274 APPENDIX 298

INTRODUCTION
Many years ago, whilst living at Oxford, I was invited by a very old
friend, who had recently taken his degree, to a river picnic; with
Nuneham, I think, as its alleged object.
Unfortunately, the day proved unfavourable, and we returned in open
boats, also with open umbrellas; a generally drenched and bedraggled
appearance, and nothing to cheer us on the physical plane except a
quantity of iced coffee which had been ordered in anticipation of a
tropical day.
Under these rather trying conditions I can remember getting a good
deal of amusement out of the companions in the special boat which
proved to be my fate. Our host, being a clever and interesting man
himself, had collected clever and interesting people round him, on the
"Birds of a Feather" principle, and I happened to sit between two ladies,
one the wife (now, alas! the widow) of a man who was to become later
on one of our most famous bishops; the other--her bosom friend and

deadly rival--the wife of an equally distinguished Oxford don.
The iced coffee combined with the pouring rain may have been partly
to blame, but certainly the conversation that went on between the two
ladies, across my umbrella, was decidedly Feline.
To pass the time we were valiantly endeavouring to play "Twenty
Questions" from the bottom of the boat, and the Bishop's widow was
asking the questions. She had triumphantly elicited the fact that we had
thought of a cinder--and an historical cinder--and the twentieth and last
permissible question was actually hovering on her lips. "It was the
cinder that Richard Coeur de Lion's horse fell upon," she said eagerly.
Of course, we all realised that this was a most obvious "slip" in the case
of so highly educated a woman; but the Bosom Friend could not resist
putting out the velvet paw: "A little confusion in the centuries, I think,
dear," she said sweetly. The unfortunate questioner practically "never
smiled again" during that expedition. But a still more crushing blow
was in store for her.
The conversation turned later upon questions of style in writing or
speaking, and with perhaps pardonable revenge, she said to her rival:
"I always notice that you say 'one' so often--'one does this or that,' and
so forth."
"Really, dear? That is curious. Now I always notice that you say 'I' so
continually!"
The cut and thrust came with the rapidity of expert fencers.
And this brings me to the real gist of my story.
It is considered the most heinous offence "to say I," and every
conceivable device is resorted to, no matter how clumsy, in order to
prevent the catastrophe of a writer being forced to speak of himself in
the first person.
To my mind, there is a good deal of affectation and pose about this, and

in anything of an autobiography it becomes insupportable.
"The writer happened upon one occasion to be present, etc." "He who
pens these unworthy pages was once travelling to Scotland, etc. etc."
Which of