WRAITHS.
Such instances as that of Lady Fanshawe, and other similar ones, certainly seem to favor the hypothesis that the spirit is freed from the body when the latter becomes no longer a fit habitation for it. It does so when actual death supervenes, and the reason of its departure we may naturally conclude to be, that the body has ceased to be available for its manifestations; and in these cases, which seem so nearly allied to death, that frequently there would actually be no revival but for the exertions used, it does not seem very difficult to conceive that this separation may take place. When we are standing by a death-bed, all we see is the death of the body—of the going forth of the spirit we see nothing: so, in cases of apparent death, it may depart and return, while we are aware of nothing but the reanimation of the organism. Certain it is, that the Scriptures countenance this view of the case in several instances; thus, Luke says, viii. 34: “And he put them all out, and took her by the hand, and called, saying, ‘Maid, arise!’ And her spirit came again, and she arose straightway,” &c., &c.
Dr. Wigan observes, when speaking of the effects of temporary pressure on the brain, that the mind is not annihilated, because, if the pressure is timely removed, it is restored, though, if continued too long, the body will be resolved into its primary elements: and he compares the human organism to a watch, which we can either stop or set going at will—which watch, he says, will also be gradually resolved into its original elements by chemical action; and he adds that, to ask where the mind is, during the interruption, is like asking where the motion of the watch is. I think a wind-instrument would be a better simile, for the motion of the watch is purely mechanical. It requires no informing, intelligent spirit to breathe into its apertures, and make it the vehicle of the harshest discords, or of the most eloquent discourses. “The divinely mysterious essence, which we call the soul,” he adds, “is not, then, the mind, from which it must be carefully distinguished, if we would hope to make any progress in mental philosophy. Where the soul resides during the suspension of the mental powers by asphyxia, I know not, any more than I know where it resided before it was united with that specific compound of bones, muscles, and nerve.”
By a temporary pressure on the brain, the mind is certainly not annihilated, but its manifestations by means of the brain are suspended—the source of these manifestations being the soul, or anima, in which dwells the life, fitting the temple for its divine inhabitant, the spirit. The connection of the soul and the body is probably a much more intimate one than that of the latter with the spirit,—though the soul, as well as the spirit, is immortal, and survives when the body dies. Somnambulic persons seem to intimate that the soul of the fleshly body becomes hereafter the body of the spirit, as if the imago or idolon were the soul.
Dr. Wigan and indeed psychologists in general do not appear to recognise the old distinction between the pneuma, or anima, and the psyches—the soul and the spirit; and, indeed, the Scriptures occasionally seem to use the terms indifferently. But still there are passages enough which mark the distinction; as where St. Paul speaks of a “living soul and a quickening spirit:” 1 Cor. xv. 45;—again, 1 Thess. v. 23: “I pray God your whole spirit, and soul, and body,” &c.;—and also Heb. iv. 12, where he speaks of the sword of God “dividing asunder the soul and spirit.” In Genesis, chap. ii., we are told that “man became a living soul;” but it is distinctly said, 1 Cor. xii., that the gifts of prophecy, the discerning of spirits, &c., &c., belong to the spirit. Then, with regard to the possibility of the spirit absenting itself from the body, St. Paul says, in referring to his own vision—2 Cor. xii.—“I knew a man in Christ, about fourteen years ago (whether in the body, I can not tell; or out of the body, I can not tell: God knoweth); such a one caught up to the third heaven:” and we are told, also, that to be “absent from the body is to be present with the Lord;” and that when we are “at home in the body we are absent from the Lord.” We are told, also, “the spirit returns to God, who gave it;” but it depends on ourselves whether or not our souls shall perish. We must suppose, however, that even in the worst cases, some remnant of this divine spirit remains with the soul as long as the latter is not utterly perverted and rendered incapable of salvation.
St. John also says, that when he prophesied, he was in the spirit; but it was the “souls of the slain” that he saw, and that “cried with a loud voice,” &c., &c.; souls, here, being probably used in the sense of individuals,—as we say, so many “souls perished by shipwreck,” &c.
In the Revue de Paris, 29th July, 1838, it is related that a child saw the soul of a woman, who was lying insensible in a magnetic crisis in which death nearly ensued, depart out of her; and I find recorded in another work that a somnambule, who was brought to give advice to a patient, said: “It is too late—her soul is leaving her: I see the vital flame quitting her brain.”
From some of the cases I have above related, we are led to the conclusion that in certain conditions of the body, the spirit, in a manner unknown to us, resumes a portion of its freedom, and is enabled to exercise more or less of its inherent properties. It is somewhat released from those inexorable conditions of time and space which bound and limit its powers, while in close connection with matter, and it communes with other spirits who are also liberated. How far this liberation (if such it be), or reintegration of natural attributes, may take place in ordinary sleep, we can only conclude from examples. In prophetic dreams, and in those instances of information apparently received from the dead, this condition seems to occur; as also in such cases as that of the gentleman mentioned in a former chapter, who has several times been conscious, on awaking, that he had been conversing with some one, whom he has been subsequently startled to hear had died at that period, and this is a man apparently in excellent health, endowed with a vigorous understanding, and immersed in active business.
In the story of the American, quoted in a former chapter from Jung Stilling, there was one point which I forebore to comment on at the moment, but to which I must now revert: this is the assertion that the voyager had seen the man, and even conversed with him, in the coffeehouse in London whence the desired intelligence was brought. Now, this single case, standing alone, would amount to nothing, although Jung Stilling, who was one of the most conscientious of men, declares himself to have been quite satisfied with the authority on which he relates it; but, strange to say—for undoubtedly the thing is very strange—there are numerous similar instances recorded; and it seems to have been believed in all ages of the world, that people were sometimes seen where bodily they were not—seen, not by sleepers alone, but by persons in a perfect state of vigilance; and that this phenomenon, though more frequently occurring at the moment that the individual seen is at the point of death, does occasionally occur at indefinite periods anterior to the catastrophe, and sometimes where no such catastrophe is impending. In some of these cases, an earnest desire seems to be the cause of the phenomenon. It is not very long since a very estimable lady, who was dying in the Mediterranean, expressed herself perfectly ready to meet death, if she could but once more behold her children, who were in England. She soon afterward fell into a comatose state, and the persons surrounding her were doubtful whether she had not already breathed her last; at all events, they did not expect her to revive. She did so, however, and now cheerfully announced that, having seen her children, she was ready to depart. During the interval that she lay in this state, her family saw her in England, and were thus aware of her death before the intelligence reached them. As it is a subject, I understand, they are unwilling to speak of, I do not know precisely under what circumstances she was seen;—but this is an exactly analogous case to that already recorded of Maria Goffe, of Rochester, who, when dying away from home, expressed precisely the same feelings. She said she could not die happy till she had seen her children. By-and-by she fell into a state of coma, which left them uncertain whether she was dead or alive. Her eyes were open and fixed, her jaw fallen, and there was no perceptible respiration. When she revived, she told her mother, who attended her, that she had been home and seen her children; which the other said was impossible, since she had been lying there in bed the whole time. “Yes,” replied the dying woman, “but I was there in my sleep.” A widow woman, called Alexander, who had the care of these children, declared herself ready to take oath upon the sacrament, that, during this period, she had seen the form of Maria Goffe come out of the room where the oldest child slept, and approach the bed where she herself lay with the younger beside her. The figure had stood there nearly a quarter of an hour, as far as she could judge; and she remarked that the eyes and the mouth moved, though she heard no sound. She declared herself to have been perfectly awake, and that, as it was the longest night in the year, it was quite light. She sat up in bed, and while she was looking on the figure the clock on the bridge struck two. She then adjured the form in the name of God, whereupon it moved. She immediately arose and followed it, but could not tell what had become of it. She then became alarmed, and throwing on her clothes, went out and walked on the quay, returning to the house ever and anon to look at the children. At five o’clock she knocked at a neighbor’s door, but they would not let her in. At six she knocked again and was then admitted, and related to them what she had seen, which they, of course, endeavored to persuade her was a dream or an illusion. She declared herself, however, to have been perfectly awake, and said that if she had ever seen Maria Goffe in her life she had seen her that night.
The following story has been currently related in Rome, and is already in print. I take it from a German work, and I do not know how far its authenticity can be established. It is to the effect that two friends having agreed to attend confession together, one of them went at the appointed time to the Abbate B——, and made his confession; after which the priest commenced the usual admonition, in the midst of which he suddenly ceased speaking. After waiting a short time, the penitent stepped forward and perceived him lying in the confessional in a state of insensibility. Aid was summoned and means used to restore him, which were for some time ineffectual; at length, when he opened his eyes, he bade the penitent recite a prayer for his friend, who had just expired. This proved to be the case, on inquiry; and when the young man, who had naturally hastened to his friend’s house, expressed a hope that he had not died without the last offices of the church, he was told in amazement, that the Abbate B—— had arrived just as he was in extremis, and had remained with him till he died.
These appearances seem to have taken place when the corporeal condition of the person seen elsewhere, permits us to conceive the possibility of the spirit’s having withdrawn from the body; but the question then naturally arises, what is it that was seen; and I confess, that of all the difficulties that surround the subject, I have undertaken to treat of, this seems to me the greatest; for we can not suppose that a spirit can be visible to the human eye, and both in the above instances and several others I have to narrate, there is nothing that can lead us to the conclusion, that the persons who saw the wraith or double, were in any other than a normal state; the figure, in short, seems to have been perceived through their external organs of sense. Before I discuss this question, however, any further, I will relate some instances of a similar kind, only with this difference, that the wraith appearing as nearly as could be ascertained at the moment of death, it remains uncertain whether it was seen before or after the dissolution had taken place. As in both these cases above related and those that follow, the material body was visible in one place, while the wraith was visible in another, they appear to be strictly analogous; especially, as in both class of examples, the body itself was either dead or in a state that closely resembled death.
Instances of people being seen at a distance from the spot on which they are dying, are so numerous, that in this department I have positively an embarras de richesse, and find it difficult to make a selection; more especially as there is in each case little to relate, the whole phenomenon being comprised in the fact of the form being observed and the chief variations consisting in this, that the seer, or seers, frequently entertain no suspicion that what they have seen is any other than a form of flesh and blood; while on other occasions the assurance that the person is far away, or some peculiarity connected with the appearance itself, produces the immediate conviction that the shape is not corporeal.
Mrs. K——, the sister of Provost B——, of Aberdeen, was sitting one day with her husband, Dr. K——, in the parlor of the manse, when she suddenly said, “Oh! there’s my brother come! he has just passed the window,” and, followed by her husband, she hastened to the door to meet the visiter. He was however not there. “He is gone round to the back door,” said she; and thither they went; but neither was he there, nor had the servants seen anything of him. Dr. K—— said she must be mistaken, but she laughed at the idea; her brother had passed the window and looked in; he must have gone somewhere, and would doubtless be back directly. But he came not; and the intelligence shortly arrived from St. Andrew’s, that at that precise time, as nearly as they could compare circumstances, he had died quite suddenly at his own place of residence. I have heard this story from connections of the family, and also from an eminent professor of Glasgow, who told me that he had once asked Dr. K——, whether he believed in these appearances. “I can not choose but believe,” returned Dr. K——, and then he accounted for his conviction by narrating the above particulars.
Lord and Lady M—— were residing on their estate in Ireland: Lord M—— had gone out shooting in the morning, and was not expected to return till toward dinner-time. In the course of the afternoon, Lady M—— and a friend were walking on the terrace that forms a promenade in front of the castle, when she said, “Oh, there is M—— returning!” whereupon she called to him to join them. He, however, took no notice, but walked on before them, till they saw him enter the house, whither they followed him;—but he was not to be found: and before they had recovered their surprise at his sudden disappearance, he was brought home dead, having been killed by his own gun. It is a curious fact, in this case, that while the ladies were walking behind the figure on the terrace, Lady M—— called the attention of her companion to the shooting-jacket, observing that it was a convenient one, and that she had the credit of having contrived it for him herself.
A person in Edinburgh, busied about her daily work, saw a woman enter her house, with whom she was on such ill terms that she could not but be surprised at the visit; but while she was expecting an explanation, and under the influence of her resentment avoiding to look at her, she found she was gone. She remained quite unable to account for the visit, and, as she said, “was wondering what had brought her there,” when she heard that the woman had expired at that precise time.
Madame O—— B—— was engaged to marry an officer who was with his regiment in India; and, wishing to live in privacy till the union took place, she retired to the country and boarded with some ladies of her acquaintance, awaiting his return. She at length heard that he had obtained an appointment, which, by improving his prospects, had removed some difficulties out of the way of the marriage, and that he was immediately coming home. A short time after the arrival of this intelligence, this lady, and one of those with whom she was residing, were walking over a bridge, when the friend said, alluding to an officer she saw on the other side of the way, “What an extraordinary expression of face!” But, without pausing to answer, Madame O—— B—— darted across the road to meet the stranger—but he was gone: where? they could not conceive. They ran to the toll-keepers at the ends of the bridge, to inquire if they had observed such a person, but they had not. Alarmed and perplexed—for it was her intended husband that she had seen—Madame O—— B—— returned home; and in due time the packet which should have brought himself, brought the sad tidings of his unexpected death.
Madame O—— B—— never recovered the shock, and died herself of a broken heart not long afterward.
Mr. H——, an eminent artist, was walking arm in arm with a friend in Edinburgh, when he suddenly left him, saying, “Oh, there’s my brother!” He had seen him with the most entire distinctness; but was confounded by losing sight of him, without being able to ascertain whither he had vanished. News came, ere long, that at that precise period his brother had died.
Mrs. T——, sitting in her drawing-room, saw her nephew, then at Cambridge, pass across the adjoining room. She started up to meet him, and, not finding him, summoned the servants to ask where he was. They, however, had not seen him, and declared he could not be there; while she as positively declared he was. The young man had died at Cambridge quite unexpectedly.
A Scotch minister went to visit a friend who was dangerously ill. After sitting with the invalid for some time, he left him to take some rest, and went below. He had been reading in the library some little time, when, on looking up, he saw the sick man standing at the door. “God bless me!” he cried, starting up, “how can you be so imprudent?” The figure disappeared; and, hastening up stairs, he found his friend had expired.
Three young men at Cambridge had been out hunting, and afterward dined together in the apartments of one of them. After dinner, two of the party, fatigued with their morning’s exercise, fell asleep, while the third, a Mr. M——, remained awake. Presently the door opened, and a gentleman entered and placed himself behind the sleeping owner of the rooms, and, after standing there a minute, proceeded to the gyp-room—a small inner chamber, from which there was no egress. Mr. M—— waited a little while, expecting the stranger would come out again; but, as he did not, he awoke his host, saying, “There’s somebody gone into your room: I don’t know who it can be.”
The young man rose and looked into the gyp-room; but, there being nobody there, he naturally accused Mr. M—— of dreaming; but the other assured him he had not been asleep. He then described the stranger—an elderly man, &c., dressed like a country squire, with gaiters on, &c. “Why that’s my father,” said the host, and he immediately made inquiry, thinking it possible the old gentleman had slipped out unobserved by Mr. M——. He was not, however, to be heard of; and the post shortly brought a letter announcing that he had died at the time he had been seen in his son’s chamber at Cambridge.
Mr. C—— F—— and some young ladies, not long ago, were standing together looking in at a shop window at Brighton,—when he suddenly darted across the way, and they saw him hurrying along the street, apparently in pursuit of somebody. After waiting a little while, as he did not return, they went home without him; and, when he was come, they of course arraigned him for his want of gallantry.
“I beg your pardon,” said he; “but I saw an acquaintance of mine that owes me money, and I wanted to get hold of him.”
“And did you?” inquired the ladies.
“No,” returned he; “I kept sight of him some time; but I suddenly missed him—I can’t think how.”
No more was thought of the matter; but, by the next morning’s post, Mr. C—— F—— received a letter enclosing a draft, from the father of the young man he had seen, saying that his son had just expired, and that one of his last requests had been that he would pay Mr. C—— F—— the money that he owed him.
Two young ladies, staying at the Queen’s Ferry, arose one morning early to bathe; as they descended the stairs, they each exclaimed: “There’s my uncle!” They had seen him standing by the clock. He died at that time.
Very lately, a gentleman living in Edinburgh, while sitting with his wife, suddenly arose from his seat and advanced toward the door with his hand extended, as if about to welcome a visiter. On his wife’s inquiring what he was about, he answered that he had seen so-and-so enter the room. She had seen nobody. A day or two afterward, the post brought a letter announcing the death of the person seen.
A regiment, not very long since, stationed at New Orleans, had a temporary mess-room erected, at one end of which was a door for the officers, and at the other, a door and a space railed off for the messman. One day, two of the officers were playing at chess, or draughts, one sitting with his face toward the centre of the room, the other with his back to it. “Bless me! why, surely that is your brother!” exclaimed the former to the latter, who looked eagerly round, his brother being then, as he believed, in England. By this time the figure, having passed the spot where the officers were sitting, presented only his back to them. “No,” replied the second, “that is not my brother’s regiment; that’s the uniform of the rifle-brigade. By heavens! it is my brother, though,” he added, starting up and eagerly pursuing the stranger, who at that moment turned his head and looked at him, and then, somehow, strangely disappeared among the people standing at the messman’s end of the room. Supposing he had gone out that way, the brother pursued him, but he was not to be found; neither had the messman, nor anybody there, observed him. The young man died at that time in England, having just exchanged into the rifle-brigade.
I could fill pages with similar instances, not to mention those recorded in other collections and in history. The case of Lord Balcarres is perhaps worth alluding to, from its being so perfectly well established. Nobody has ever disputed the truth of it, only they get out of the difficulty by saying that it was a spectral illusion! Lord Balcarres was in confinement in the castle of Edinburgh, under suspicion of Jacobitism, when one morning, while lying in bed, the curtains were drawn aside by his friend, Viscount Dundee, who looked upon him steadfastly, leaned for some time on the mantel-piece, and then walked out of the room. Lord Balcarres, not supposing that what he saw was a spectre, called to Dundee to come back and speak to him, but he was gone; and shortly afterward the news came that he had fallen about that same hour at Killicranky.
Finally, I have met with three instances of persons who are so much the subjects of this phenomenon, that they see the wraiths of most people that die belonging to them, and frequently of those who are merely acquaintance. They see the person as if he were alive, and unless they know him positively to be elsewhere, they have no suspicion but that it is himself, in the flesh, that is before them, till the sudden disappearance of the figure brings the conviction. Sometimes, as in the case of Mr. C—— F——, above alluded to, no suspicion arises till the news of the death arrives; and they mention, without reserve, that they have met so and so, but he did not stop to speak, and so forth.
On other occasions, however, the circumstances of the appearance are such that the seer is instantly aware of its nature. In the first place, the time and locality may produce the conviction.
Mrs. J—— wakes her husband in the night, and tells him she has just seen her father pass through the room—she being in the West Indies and her father in England. He died that night. Lord T—— being at sea, on his way to Calcutta, saw his wife enter his cabin.
Mrs. Mac——, of Skye, went from Lynedale, where she resided, to pay a visit in Perthshire. During her absence there was a ball given at Lynedale, and when it was over, three young ladies, two of them her daughters, assembled in their bed-room to talk over the evening’s amusement. Suddenly, one of them cried, “O God! my mother.” They all saw her pass across the room toward a chest of drawers, where she vanished. They immediately told their friends what they had seen, and afterward learned that the lady died that night.
Lord M—— being from home, saw Lady M——, whom he had left two days before, perfectly well, standing at the foot of his bed; aware of the nature of the appearance, but wishing to satisfy himself that it was not a mere spectral illusion, he called his servant, who slept in the dressing-room, and said, “John, who’s that?” “It’s my lady!” replied the man. Lady M—— had been seized with inflammation, and died after a few hours’ illness. This circumstance awakened so much interest at the time, that, as I am informed by one of the family, George the Third was not satisfied without hearing the particulars from Lord M—— and from the servant also.
But, besides time and locality, there are very frequently other circumstances accompanying the appearance, which not only show the form to be spectral, but also make known to the seer the nature of the death that has taken place.
A lady, with whose family I am acquainted, had a son abroad. One night she was lying in bed, with a door open which led into an adjoining room, where there was a fire. She had not been asleep, when she saw her son cross this adjoining room and approach the fire, over which he leaned, as if very cold. She saw that he was shivering and dripping wet. She immediately exclaimed, “That’s my G——!” The figure turned its face round, looked at her sadly, and disappeared. That same night the young man was drowned.
Mr. P——, the American manager, in one of his voyages to England, being in bed one night, between sleeping and waking, was disturbed by somebody coming into his cabin, dripping with water. He concluded that the person had fallen overboard, and asked him why he came there to disturb him, when there were plenty of other places for him to go to. The man muttered something indistinctly, and Mr. P—— then perceived that it was his own brother. This roused him completely, and feeling quite certain that somebody had been there, he got out of bed to feel if the carpet was wet on the spot where his brother stood. It was not, however; and when he questioned his shipmates, the following morning, they assured him that nobody had been overboard, nor had anybody been in his cabin. Upon this, he noted down the date and the particulars of the event, and, on his arrival at Liverpool, sent the paper sealed to a friend in London, desiring it might not be opened till he wrote again. The Indian post, in due time, brought the intelligence that on that night Mr. P——’s brother was drowned.
A similar case to this is that of Captain Kidd, which Lord Byron used to say he heard from the captain himself. He was one night awakened in his hammock, by feeling something heavy lying upon him. He opened his eyes, and saw, or thought he saw, by the indistinct light in the cabin, his brother, in uniform, lying across the bed. Concluding that this was only an illusion arising out of some foregone dream, he closed his eyes again to sleep; but again he felt the weight, and there was the form still lying across the bed. He now stretched out his hand, and felt the uniform, which was quite wet. Alarmed, he called out for somebody to come to him; and, as one of the officers entered, the figure disappeared. He afterward learned that his brother was drowned on that night in the Indian ocean.
Ben Jonson told Drummond, of Hawthornden, that, being at Sir Robert Cotton’s house, in the country, with old Cambden, he saw, in a vision, his eldest son, then a child at London, appear to him with a mark of a bloody cross on his forehead; at which, amazed, he prayed to God; and, in the morning, mentioned the circumstance to Mr. Cambden, who persuaded him it was fancy. In the meantime, came letters announcing that the boy had died of the plague. The custom of indicating an infected house by a red cross is here suggested, the cross apparently symbolizing the manner of the death.
Mr. S—— C——, a gentleman of fortune, had a son in India. One fine, calm summer’s morning, in the year 1780, he and his wife were sitting at breakfast, when she arose and went to the window; upon which, turning his eyes in the same direction, he started up and followed her, saying, “My dear, do you see that?”—“Surely,” she replied, “it is our son. Let us go to him!” As she was very much agitated, however, he begged her to sit down and recover herself; and when they looked again, the figure was gone. The appearance was that of their son, precisely as they had last seen him. They took note of the hour, and afterward learned that he had died in India at that period.
A lady, with whose family I am acquainted, was sitting with her son, named Andrew, when she suddenly exclaimed that she had seen him pass the window, in a white mantle. As the window was high from the ground, and overhung a precipice, no one could have passed; else, she said, “Had there been a path, and he not beside her at the moment, she should have thought he had walked by on stilts.” Three days afterward, Andrew was seized with a fever which he had caught from visiting some sick neighbors, and expired after a short illness.
In 1807, when several people were killed in consequence of a false alarm of fire, at Sadler’s Wells, a woman named Price, in giving her evidence at the inquest, said that her little girl had gone into the kitchen about half-past ten o’clock, and was surprised to see her brother there, whom she supposed to be at the theatre. She spoke to him, whereupon he disappeared. The child immediately told her mother, who, alarmed, set off to the theatre, and found the boy dead.
In the year 1813, a young lady in Berlin, whose intended husband was with the army at Dusseldorf, heard some one knock at the door of her chamber, and her lover entered in a white negligé, stained with blood. Thinking that this vision proceeded from some disorder in herself, she arose and quitted the room, to call a servant; who not being at hand, she returned, and found the figure there still. She now became much alarmed, and having mentioned the circumstance to her father, inquiries were made of some prisoners that were marching through the town, and it was ascertained that the young man had been wounded, and carried to the house of Dr. Ehrlick, in Leipsic, with great hopes of recovery. It afterward proved, however, that he had died at that period, and that his last thoughts were with her. This lady earnestly wished and prayed for another such visit, but she never saw him again.
In the same year, a woman in Bavaria, who had a brother with the army in Russia, was one day at field-work, on the skirts of a forest, and everything quiet around her, when she repeatedly felt herself hit by small stones, though, on looking round, she could see nobody. At length, supposing it was some jest, she threw down her implements, and stepped into the wood whence they had proceeded, when she saw a headless figure, in a soldier’s mantle, leaning against a tree. Afraid to approach, she summoned some laborers from a neighboring field, who also saw it; but on going up to it, it disappeared. The woman declared her conviction that the circumstance indicated her brother’s death; and it was afterward ascertained that he had, on that day, fallen in a trench.
Some few years ago, a Mrs. H——, residing in Limerick, had a servant whom she much esteemed, called Nelly Hanlon. Nelly was a very steady person, who seldom asked for a holy-day, and consequently Mrs. H—— was the less disposed to refuse her when she requested a day’s leave of absence for the purpose of attending a fair that was to take place a few miles off. The petition was therefore favorably heard; but when Mr. H—— came home and was informed of Nelly’s proposed excursion, he said she could not be spared, as he had invited some people to dinner for that day, and he had nobody he could trust with the keys of the cellar except Nelly, adding that it was not likely his business would allow him to get home time enough to bring up the wine himself.
Unwilling, however, after giving her consent, to disappoint the girl, Mrs. H—— said that she would herself undertake the cellar department on the day in question; so when the wished-for morning arrived, Nelly departed in great spirits, having faithfully promised to return that night, if possible, or, at the latest, the following morning.
The day passed as usual, and nothing was thought about Nelly, till the time arrived for fetching up the wine, when Mrs. H—— proceeded to the cellar-stairs with the key, followed by a servant carrying a bottle-basket. She had, however, scarcely begun to descend, when she uttered a loud scream and dropped down in a state of insensibility. She was carried up stairs and laid upon the bed, while, to the amazement of the other servants, the girl who had accompanied her said that they had seen Nelly Hanlon, dripping with water, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Mr. H—— being sent for, or coming home at the moment, this story was repeated to him, whereupon he reproved the woman for her folly; and, proper restoratives being applied, Mrs. H—— at length began to revive. As she opened her eyes, she heaved a deep sigh, saying, “Oh, Nelly Hanlon!” and as soon as she was sufficiently recovered to speak, she corroborated what the girl had said: she had seen Nelly at the foot of the stairs, dripping as if she had just come out of the water. Mr. H—— used his utmost efforts to persuade his wife out of what he looked upon to be an illusion; but in vain. “Nelly,” said he, “will come home by-and-by and laugh at you;” while she, on the contrary, felt sure that Nelly was dead.
The night came, and the morning came, but there was no Nelly. When two or three days had passed, inquiries were made; and it was ascertained that she had been seen at the fair, and started to return home in the evening; but from that moment all traces of her were lost till her body was ultimately found in the river. How she came by her death was never known.
Now, in most of these cases which I have above detailed, the person was seen where his dying thoughts might naturally be supposed to have flown, and the visit seems to have been made either immediately before or immediately after the dissolution of the body: in either case, we may imagine that the final parting of the spirit had taken place, even if the organic life was not quite extinct.
I have met with some cases in which we are not left in any doubt with respect to the last wishes of the dying person. For example: a lady, with whom I am acquainted, was on her way to India; when near the end of her voyage, she was one night awakened by a rustling in her cabin, and a consciousness that there was something hovering about her. She sat up, and saw a bluish, cloudy form moving away; but persuading herself it must be fancy, she addressed herself again to sleep; but as soon as she lay down, she both heard and felt the same thing: it seemed to her as if this cloudy form hung over and enveloped her. Overcome with horror, she screamed. The cloud then moved away, assuming distinctly a human shape. The people about her naturally persuaded her that she had been dreaming; and she wished to think so; but when she arrived in India, the first thing she heard was, that a very particular friend had come down to Calcutta to be ready to receive her on her landing, but that he had been taken ill and died, saying he only wished to live to see his old friend once more. He had expired on the night she saw the shadowy form in her room.
A very frightful instance of this kind of phenomenon is related by Dr. H. Werner, of Baron Emilius von O——. This young man had been sent to prosecute his studies in Paris; but, forming some bad connections, he became dissipated, and neglected them. His father’s counsels were unheeded, and his letters remained unanswered. One day the young baron was sitting alone on a seat, in the Bois de Boulogne, and had fallen somewhat into a revery, when, on raising his eyes, he saw his father’s form before him. Believing it to be a mere spectral illusion, he struck at the shadow with his riding-whip, upon which it disappeared. The next day brought him a letter, urging his return home instantly, if he wished to see his parent alive. He went, but found the old man already in his grave. The person who had been about him said that he had been quite conscious, and had a great longing to see his son; he had, indeed, exhibited one symptom of delirium, which was, that after expressing this desire, he had suddenly exclaimed, “My God! he is striking at me with his riding-whip!” and immediately expired.
In this case, the condition of the dying man resembles that of a somnambulist, in which the patient describes what he sees taking place at a distance; and the archives of magnetism furnish some instances, especially that of Auguste Müller, of Carlsruhe, in which, by the force of will, the sleeper has not only been able to bring intelligence from a distance, but also, like the American magician, to make himself visible. The faculties of prophecy and clear or far seeing, frequently disclosed by dying persons, is fully acknowledged by Dr. Abercrombie and other physiologists.
Mr. F—— saw a female relative, one night, by his bedside. Thinking it was a trick of some one to frighten him, he struck at the figure; whereon she said: “What have I done? I know I should have told it you before.” This lady was dying at a distance, earnestly desiring to speak to Mr. F—— before she departed.
I will conclude this chapter with the following extract from “Lockhart’s Life of Scott:”—
“Walter Scott to Daniel Terry, April 30, 1818. (The new house at Abbotsford being then in progress, Scott living in an older part, close adjoining.)
“ ‘.....The exposed state of my house has led to a mysterious disturbance. The night before last we were awakened by a violent noise, like drawing heavy boards along the new part of the house. I fancied something had fallen, and thought no more about it. This was about two in the morning. Last night, at the same witching hour, the very same noise occurred. Mrs. Scott, as you know, is rather timbersome; so up I got, with Beardie’s broadsword under my arm—
“Bolt upright,
And ready to fight.”
But nothing was out of order, neither can I discover what occasioned the disturbance.’ ”
Mr. Lockhart adds: “On the morning that Mr. Terry received the foregoing letter, in London, Mr. William Erskine was breakfasting with him, and the chief subject of their conversation was the sudden death of George Bullock, which had occurred on the same night, and, as nearly as they could ascertain, at the very hour when Scott was roused from his sleep by the ‘mysterious disturbance’ here described. This coincidence, when Scott received Erskine’s minute detail of what had happened in Tenterdon street (that is, the death of Bullock, who had the charge of furnishing the new rooms at Abbotsford), made a much stronger impression on his mind than might be gathered from the tone of an ensuing communication.”
It appears that Bullock had been at Abbotsford, and made himself a great favorite with old and young. Scott, a week or two afterward, wrote thus to Terry: “Were you not struck with the fantastical coincidence of our nocturnal disturbances at Abbotsford, with the melancholy event that followed? I protest to you, the noise resembled half a dozen men hard at work, putting up boards and furniture; and nothing can be more certain than that there was nobody on the premises at the time. With a few additional touches, the story would figure in Glanville or Aubrey’s collection. In the meantime, you may set it down with poor Dubisson’s warnings, as a remarkable coincidence coming under your own observation.”