Amos Crum, Pastor Univ. Church.
If we may accept the details of this narrative, which seems to have been carefully and promptly investigated, we find that the phantasm communicates two sets of facts: one of them known only to strangers (the dress in which he was buried), and one of them known only to himself (the existence of the inside pocket and the money therein). In discussing from what mind these images originate it is, of course, important to note whether any living minds, known or unknown to the percipient, were aware of the facts thus conveyed.
There are few cases where the communication between the percipient and the deceased seems to have been more direct than here. The hard, prosaic reality of the details of the message need not, of course, surprise us. On the contrary, the father's sudden death in the midst of earthly business would at once retain his attention on money matters and facilitate his impressing them on the daughter's mind. One wishes that more could be learned of the daughter's condition when receiving the message. It seems to have resembled trance rather than dream.[229]
One other case in this group I must quote at length. It illustrates the fact that the cases of deepest interest are often the hardest for the inquirer to get hold of.
From the Proceedings S.P.R., vol. x. pp. 385-86.
The account of the percipient, Baron B. von Driesen, was written in November, 1890, and has been translated from the Russian by Mr. M. Petrovo-Solovovo, who sent us the case.
[Baron von Driesen begins by saying that he has never believed and does not believe in the supernatural, and that he is more inclined to attribute the apparition he saw to his "excited fancy" than to anything else. After these preliminary remarks he proceeds as follows:—]
I must tell you that my father-in-law, M. N. J. Ponomareff, died in the country. This did not happen at once, but after a long and painful illness, whose sharp phases had obliged my wife and myself to join him long before his death. I had not been on good terms with M. Ponomareff. Different circumstances, which are out of place in this narrative, had estranged us from each other, and these relations did not change until his death. He died very quietly, after having given his blessing to all his family, including myself. A liturgy for the rest of his soul was to be celebrated on the ninth day. I remember very well how I went to bed between one and two o'clock on the eve of that day, and how I read the Gospel before falling asleep. My wife was sleeping in the same room. It was perfectly quiet. I had just put out the candle when footsteps were heard in the adjacent room—a sound of slippers shuffling, I might say—which ceased before the door of our bedroom. I called out, "Who is there?" No answer. I struck one match, then another, and when after the stifling smell of the sulphur the fire had lighted up the room, I saw M. Ponomareff standing before the closed door. Yes, it was he, in his blue dressing-gown, lined with squirrel furs and only half-buttoned, so that I could see his white waistcoat and his black trousers. It was he undoubtedly. I was not frightened. They say that, as a rule, one is not frightened when seeing a ghost, as ghosts possess the quality of paralysing fear.
"What do you want?" I asked my father-in-law. M. Ponomareff made two steps forward, stopped before my bed, and said, "Basil Feodorovitch, I have acted wrongly towards you. Forgive me! Without this I do not feel at rest there." He was pointing to the ceiling with his left hand, whilst holding out his right to me. I seized this hand, which was long and cold, shook it, and answered, "Nicholas Ivanovitch, God is my witness that I have never had anything against you."
[The ghost of] my father-in-law bowed [or bent down], moved away, and went through the opposite door into the billiard-room, where he disappeared. I looked after him for a moment, crossed myself, put out the candle, and fell asleep with the sense of joy which a man who has done his duty must feel. The morning came. My wife's brothers, as well as our neighbours and the peasants, assembled, and the liturgy was celebrated by our confessor, the Rev. Father Basil. But when all was over, the same Father Basil led me aside, and said to me mysteriously, "Basil Feodorovitch, I have got something to say to you in private." My wife having come near us at this moment, the clergyman repeated his wish. I answered, "Father Basil, I have no secrets from my wife; please tell us what you wished to tell me alone."