Another case, which occurred in this town, I mention—although I know it is liable to be called a spectral illusion—because it bears a remarkable similarity to one which took place in America. A respectable woman lost her father, for whom she had a great affection; she was of a serious turn, and much attached to the tenets of her church, in which particulars she thought her father had been deficient. She was therefore very unhappy about him, fearing that he had not died in a proper state of mind. A considerable time had elapsed since his death, but her distrust of his condition was still causing her uneasiness; when one day, while she was sitting at her work, she felt something touch her shoulder, and on looking round she perceived her father, who bade her cease to grieve about him, as he was not unhappy. From that moment she became perfectly resigned and cheerful. The American case—I have omitted to write down the name of the place, and forget it—was that of a mother and son. She was also a highly respectable person, and was described to me as perfectly trustworthy by one who knew her. She was a widow, and had one son, to whom she was extremely attached. He however disappeared one day, and she never could learn what had become of him; she always said that if she did but know his fate she should be happier. At length, when he had been dead a considerable time, her attention was one day, while reading, attracted by a slight noise, which induced her to look round, and she saw her son, dripping with water, and with a sad expression of countenance. The features, however, presently relaxed, and they assumed a more pleasing aspect before he disappeared. From that time she ceased to grieve, and it was subsequently ascertained that the young man had run away to sea; but no more was known of him. Certain it was, however, that she attributed her recovered tranquillity to having seen her son as above narrated.
A lady with whom I am acquainted was one day, when a girl, standing at the top of the stairs, with two others, discussing their games, when they each suddenly exclaimed: “Who’s that?” There was a fourth among them—a girl in a checked pinafore; but she was gone again. They had all seen her. One day a younger brother, in the same house, was playing with a whip, when he suddenly laughed at something, and cried “Take that;” and described having seen the same girl. This led to some inquiry, and it was said that such a girl as they described had lived in that house, and had died from the bite of a mad dog; or, rather, had been smothered between two feather-beds: but whether that was actually done, or was only a report, I can not say. Supposing this to have been no illusion, and I really can not see how it could be one, the memory of past sports and pleasures seems to have so survived as to have attracted the young soul, prematurely cut off, to the spot where the same sports and pleasures were being enjoyed by the living.
A maid-servant in one of the midland counties of England, being up early one morning, heard her name called in a voice that seemed to be her brother’s, a sailor then at sea; and running up, she found him standing in the hall; he said he was come from afar, and was going again, and mentioned some other things; when her mistress, hearing voices, called to know who she was talking to: she said it was her brother from sea. After speaking to her for some time, she suddenly lost sight of him, and found herself alone. Amazed and puzzled, she told her mistress what had happened, who being led thus to suspect the kind of visiter it was, looked out of the window to ascertain if there were any marks of footsteps, the ground being covered with snow. There were, however, none,—and it was therefore clear that nobody could have entered the house. Intelligence afterward arrived of the young man’s death.
This last is a case of wraith, but a more complicated one, from the circumstance of speech being superadded. But this is not by any means an isolated particular; there are many such. The author of the book called “Accredited Ghost Stories”—whose name I at this moment forget, and I have not the book at hand—gives, on his own authority, the following circumstance, professing to be acquainted with the parties. A company were visiting York cathedral, when a gentleman and lady, who had detached themselves from the rest, observed an officer wearing a naval uniform approaching them; he walked quickly, saying to the lady, as he passed, “There is another world.” The gentleman, seeing her greatly agitated, pursued the stranger, but lost sight of him, and nobody had seen such a person but themselves. On returning to his companion, she told him that it was her brother, who was then abroad with his ship, and with whom she had frequently held discussions as to whether there was or was not a future life. The news of the young man’s death shortly reached the family. In this case the brother must have been dead; the spirit must have passed out of this world into that other, the existence of which he came to certify. This is one of those cases which—happening not long ago—leads one especially to regret the want of moral courage which prevents people giving up their names and avowing their experience. The author of the abovementioned book, from which I borrow this story, says that the sheet had gone to the press with the real names of the parties attached, but that he was requested to withdraw them, as it would be painful to the family. My view of this case is so different, that, had it occurred to myself, I should have felt it my imperative duty to make it known and give every satisfaction to inquirers.
Some years ago, during the war, when Sir Robert H. E—— was in the Netherlands, he happened to be quartered with two other officers, one of whom was despatched into Holland on an expedition. One night, during his absence, Sir R. H. E—— awoke, and, to his great surprise, saw this absent friend sitting on the bed which he used to occupy, with a wound in his breast. Sir Robert immediately awoke his companion, who saw the spectre also. The latter then addressed them, saying that he had been that day killed in a skirmish, and that he had died in great anxiety about his family, wherefore he had come to communicate that there was a deed of much consequence to them deposited in the hands of a certain lawyer in London, whose name and address he mentioned, adding that this man’s honesty was not to be altogether relied on. He therefore requested that, on their return to England, they would go to his house and demand the deed, but that, if he denied the possession of it, they were to seek it in a certain drawer in his office, which he described to them. The circumstance impressed them very much at the time, but a long time had elapsed ere they reached England, during which period they had gone through so many adventures and seen so many friends fall around them, that this impression was considerably weakened, insomuch that each went to his own home and his own pursuits without thinking of fulfilling the commission they had undertaken. Some time afterward, however, it happened that they both met in London, and they then resolved to seek the street that had been named to them, and ascertain if such a man lived there. They found him, requested an interview, and demanded the deed, the possession of which he denied; but their eyes were upon the drawer that had been described to them, where they asserted it to be, and being there discovered, it was delivered into their hands. Here, also, the soul had parted from the body, while the memory of the past and an anxiety for the worldly prosperity, of those left behind, survived; and we thus see that the condition of mind in which this person had died, remained unchanged. He was not indifferent to the worldly prosperity of his relatives, and he found his own state rendered unhappy by the fear that they might suffer from the dishonesty of his agent. It may here be naturally objected that hundreds of much-loved widows and orphans have been ruined by dishonest trustees and agents, where no ghost came back to instruct them in the means of obviating the misfortune. This is, no doubt, a very legitimate objection, and one which it is very difficult to answer. I must, however, repeat what I said before, nature is full of exceptional cases, while we know very little of the laws which regulate these exceptions; but we may see a very good reason for the fact that such communications are the exception, and not the rule; for if they were the latter, the whole economy of this earthly life would be overturned, and its affairs must necessarily be conducted in a totally different manner to that which prevails at present. What the effects of such an arrangement of nature would be, had it pleased God to make it, he alone knows; but certain it is, that man’s freedom, as a moral agent, would be in a great degree abrogated, were the barriers that impede our intercourse with the spiritual world removed.
It may be answered, that this is an argument which may be directed against the fact of such appearances being permitted at all; but that is a fallacious objection. Earthquakes and hurricanes are occasionally permitted, which overthrow the work of man’s hands for centuries; but if these convulsions of nature were of every-day occurrence, nobody would think it worth their while to build a house or cultivate the earth, and the world would be a wreck and a wilderness. The apparitions that do appear, are not without their use to those who believe in them; while there is too great an uncertainty attending the subject, generally to allow of its ever being taken into consideration in mundane affairs.
The old, so-called, superstition of the people, that a person’s “dying with something on his mind” is one of the frequent causes of these revisitings, seems, like most other of their superstitions, to be founded on experience. I meet with many cases in which some apparently trivial anxiety, or some frustrated communication, prevents the uneasy spirit flinging off the bonds that bind it to the earth. I could quote many examples characterized by this feature, but will confine myself to two or three.
Jung Stilling gives a very curious one, which occurred in the year 1746, and for the authenticity of which he vouches. A gentleman of the name of Dorrien, of most excellent character and amiable disposition, who was tutor in the Carolina Colleges, at Brunswick, died there in that year; and immediately previous to his death he sent to request an interview with another tutor, of the name of Hofer, with whom he had lived on terms of friendship. Hofer obeyed the summons, but came too late, the dying man was already in the last agonies. After a short time, rumors began to circulate that Herr Dorrien had been seen by different persons about the college; but as it was with the pupils that these rumors originated, they were supposed to be mere fancies, and no attention whatever was paid to them. At length, however, in the month of October, three months after the decease of Herr Dorrien, a circumstance occurred that excited considerable amazement among the professors. It formed part of the duty of Hofer to go through the college every night, between the hours of eleven and twelve, for the purpose of ascertaining that all the scholars were in bed, and that nothing irregular was going on among them. On the night in question, on entering one of the ante-rooms in the execution of this duty, he saw, to his great amazement, Herr Dorrien, seated, in the dressing-gown and white cap he was accustomed to wear, and holding the latter with his right hand, in such a manner as to conceal the upper part of the face; from the eyes to the chin, however, it was distinctly visible. This unexpected sight naturally startled Hofer, but, summoning resolution, he advanced into the young men’s chamber, and, having ascertained that all was in order, closed the door; he then turned his eyes again toward the spectre, and there it sat as before, whereupon he went up to it, and stretched out his arm toward it; but he was now seized with such a feeling of indescribable horror, that he could scarcely withdraw his hand, which became swollen to a degree that for some months he had no use of it. On the following day he related this circumstance to the professor of mathematics, Oeder, who of course treated the thing as a spectral illusion. He, however, consented to accompany Hofer on his rounds the ensuing night, satisfied that he should be able either to convince him it was a mere phantasm, or else a spectre of flesh and blood that was playing him a trick. They accordingly went at the usual hour, but no sooner had the professor set his foot in that same room, than he exclaimed, “By Heavens! it is Dorrien himself!” Hofer, in the meantime, proceeded into the chamber as before, in the pursuance of his duties, and, on his return, they both contemplated the figure for some time; neither of them had, however, the courage to address or approach it, and finally quitted the room, very much impressed, and perfectly convinced that they had seen Dorrien.
This incident soon got spread abroad, and many people came in hopes of satisfying their own eyes of the fact, but their pains were fruitless; and even Professor Oeder, who had made up his mind to speak to the apparition, sought it repeatedly in the same place in vain. At length, he gave it up, and ceased to think of it, saying, “I have sought the ghost long enough; if he has anything to say, he must now seek me.” About a fortnight after this, he was suddenly awakened, between three and four o’clock in the morning, by something moving in his chamber, and on opening his eyes, he beheld a shadowy form, having the same appearance as the spectre, standing in front of a press which was not more than two steps from his bed. He raised himself, and contemplated the figure, the features of which he saw distinctly for some minutes, till it disappeared. On the following night he was awakened in the same manner, and saw the figure as before, with the addition that there was a sound proceeded from the door of the press, as if somebody was leaning against it. The spectre also stayed longer this time, and Professor Oeder, no doubt frightened and angry, addressing it as an evil spirit, bade it begone, whereon it made gestures with its head and hands that alarmed him so much, that he adjured it in the name of God to leave him, which it did. Eight days now elapsed without any further disturbance, but, after that period, the visits of the spirit were resumed, and he was awakened by it repeatedly about three in the morning, when it would advance from the press to the bed, and hang its head over him in a manner so annoying, that he started up and struck at it, whereupon it would retire, but presently advance again. Perceiving now, that the countenance was rather placid and friendly than otherwise, the professor at length addressed it, and, having reason to believe that Dorrien had left some debts unpaid, he asked him if that were the case, upon which the spectre retreated some steps, and seemed to place itself in an attitude of attention. Oeder reiterated the inquiry, whereupon the figure drew its hand across its mouth, in which the professor now observed a short pipe. “Is it to the barber you are in debt?” he inquired. The spectre slowly shook its head. “Is it to the tobacconist, then?” asked he, the question being suggested by the pipe. Hereupon the form retreated, and disappeared. On the following day, Oeder narrated what had occurred to Councillor Erath, one of the curators of the college, and also to the sister of the deceased, and arrangements were made for discharging the debt. Professor Seidler, of the same college, now proposed to pass the night with Oeder, for the purpose of observing if the ghost came again, which it did about five o’clock, and awoke Oeder as usual, who awoke his companion, but just then the form disappeared, and Seidler said he only saw something white. They then both disposed themselves to sleep, but presently Seidler was aroused by Oeder’s starting up and striking out, while he cried, with a voice expressive of rage and horror, “Begone! You have tormented me long enough! If you want anything of me, say what it is, or give me an intelligible sign, and come here no more!”
Seidler heard all this, though he saw nothing; but as soon as Oeder was somewhat appeased, he told him that the figure had returned, and not only approached the bed, but stretched itself upon it. After this, Oeder burned a light, and had some one in the room every night. He gained this advantage by the light, that he saw nothing; but about four o’clock, he was generally awakened by noises in his room, and other symptoms that satisfied him the ghost was there. At length, however, this annoyance ceased also; and trusting that his unwelcome guest had taken his leave, he dismissed his bedfellow, and dispensed with his light. Two nights passed quietly over; on the third, however, the spectre returned; but very perceptibly darker. It now presented another sign, or symbol, which seemed to represent a picture, with a hole in the middle, through which it thrust its head. Oeder was now so little alarmed, that he bade it express its wishes more clearly, or approach nearer. To these requisitions the apparition shook its head, and then vanished. This strange phenomenon recurred several times, and even in the presence of another curator of the college; but it was with considerable difficulty they discovered what the symbol was meant to convey. They at length, however, found that Dorrien just before his illness, had obtained, on trial, several pictures for a magic lantern, which had never been returned to their owner. This was now done, and from that time the apparition was neither seen nor heard again. Professor Oeder made no secret of these circumstances; he related them publicly in court and college; he wrote the account to several eminent persons, and declared himself ready to attest the facts upon his oath.