A striking instance of another kind of phantasm, which I can only conclude is an Elemental of the order of Clanogrians, occurred quite recently. In a work of mine entitled "The Haunted Houses of London," published last year, I narrated an instance of a lady who, prior to the death of her husband, heard a grandfather clock (there being no clock of that description in the house), first of all, strike thirteen, and then, at intervals, several other numbers, which were subsequently found to denote the exact date of her husband's death.
Some months after the appearance of this book, I went to see "The Blue Bird," and found myself seated next but one to the lady who experienced the phenomenon of the clock. In between the acts she leaned forward to speak to me, and said: "Isn't it odd, I have heard that clock again, Mr. O'Donnell, and it struck thirteen just as before? And what is still more strange, a few days ago, as I was sitting in my drawing-room, I heard a gong—I have no such thing in my house—very solemnly strike a certain number of times, quite close to me. Unfortunately, I did not count the strokes; but what do you think it means?"
I replied that I did not know; possibly, perhaps, the death of some relative. At the same time, I instinctively felt that the sounds foretold her own doom—a presentiment which, alas! was only too true, as Mrs. —— was killed a few days afterwards in a somewhat extraordinary taxi-cab collision in Portman Square. As Mrs. —— was a lady well known in Society, the accident was fully reported in several of the leading London dailies—in fact, that was how I first heard of it.
CHAPTER II.
PHANTASMS OF THE LIVING AND DEAD—DEATH WARNINGS AND DREAMS.
In one of my works I have alluded to the case of Miss D. (a signed account of which appeared in the October number, 1899, of the "Magazine for the Society of Psychical Research"), who unconsciously projected her superphysical body into the presence of four witnesses, including myself, and once when I was staying in Northampton a rather amusing incident with regard to projection happened to me. I went to Castle Street Station to see Mrs. W., a connection of mine, off, and as the train steamed out of the "bay," I was very much surprised to see her lean out of the window and wave to me. Of course, I waved back, but thinking such a proceeding on her part was most extraordinary, as I knew her to be extremely dignified, and averse to anything "tripperish," I made a note of the circumstance, and resolved to allude to it when next we met. I did so, but although I made use of all the tact I possess, Mrs. W. was intensely annoyed, and, of course, indignantly denied having done such a thing. Now, was this a case of unconscious projection, or merely of suggestion? I am inclined to think the former.
The same thing happened at Temple Mead Station, Bristol, when I was again seeing Mrs. W. off to her home. This time I rubbed my eyes, and still her phantom was at the window, waving vigorously until the train had travelled some distance!
In an article specially written for "Cassell's Magazine" last year, I described how, on certain nights in the year (New Year's Eve for example), I have seen the phantasms of people destined to play some more or less important rôle in my subsequent life. I have referred to this peculiar form of phenomenon, too, in my book, "The Haunted Houses of London," and I am now afforded the opportunity of quoting a third instance. One New Year's Eve a few years ago I was at a small country station in the Midlands, waiting for the Birmingham train. As the weather was very cold and wet, there were few travellers, and the platform, gloomy and streaming with water, presented a singularly forlorn and forbidding appearance. Having been confined indoors all day, I was glad to snatch any opportunity for stretching my limbs, and was pacing up and down in the rain, when I narrowly avoided collision with a very elegantly—though unseasonably—dressed lady. Apart from being pretty, she had a decidedly intellectual face, and I was so struck with her, that I admit I wheeled round with the intention of passing her again, when to my astonishment there was no one to be seen, and on my enquiring both of the station-master and solitary porter who the lady was, it was positively asserted that no such person had entered the station. Some months later, when taking tea at a club in Knightsbridge, I was introduced to Lady ——, whom I immediately recognised as the lady I had seen on New Year's Eve. I mentioned the incident to her, and she laughingly told me she had never been to such a place. Lady —— is now a great friend of mine.
Also the phantasms of people, who have at any time deeply impressed me, appear to me frequently. Some years ago I was always seeing the phantasm of H., a boy to whom I had the strangest aversion when I was at C. College. I recollect the first time I witnessed the phenomenon was in the High Street, Falmouth. I was walking with an old school friend, now Major F., of the —— Regiment. Seeing H. suddenly cross the road very slowly in front of us, I exclaimed, "Why, how extraordinary! If that isn't H.! You remember H. at school, don't you? He hasn't altered in the slightest."
F. laughed. "What are you talking about?" he said. "I certainly do remember H., but he's not here. Whatever makes you think of him?"
I looked again, and the figure of H. had completely disappeared. Within that year I saw the phantasm of H. five or six times, but always in different places, and always when my thoughts were far removed from him. The question now arises as to whether what I saw was subjective or objective; if the former, whether it was due to telepathy, suggestion, or hallucination; if the latter, whether it was superphysical or illusionary? And here again, I am inclined to attribute the phenomenon both to the objective and superphysical.