In the first volume of the Causes Célèbres, a popular French work, is the following extraordinary story, which occasioned a serious law-suit.
Two men in trade, who lived in the street St. Honoré in Paris, nearly equal in circumstances, both following the same profession, and united in the closest friendship, had each of them a child, much about the same age. These children were brought up together, and conceived a mutual attachment, which, ripening with years into a stronger and more lively sentiment, was approved by the parents on both sides. This young couple was upon the point of being made happy, by a more solemn union, when a rich financier, conceiving a passion for the young maiden, unfortunately crossed their inclinations by demanding her in marriage. The allurements of a more brilliant fortune seduced her father and mother, notwithstanding their daughter's repugnance, to consent to the change. To their entreaties, however, she was obliged to yield, and sacrificed her affections by becoming the wife of the financier. Like a woman of virtue, she forbade her earlier lover the house. A fit of melancholy, the consequence of this violence done to her inclinations by entering into an engagement of interest, brought on her a malady, which so far benumbed her faculties, that at length she was given over by the faculty, apparently died, and was accordingly laid out for burial.
Her former lover, who had once before beheld her in a similar situation, flattered himself that he might possibly again find her in a trance. This idea not only suspended his grief, but prompted him to bribe the grave-digger, by whose aid he dug up the body in the night-time, and conveyed it home. He then used every means in his power for recalling her to life, and was overjoyed on discovering that his endeavours were not ineffectual.
It is not easy to conceive the surprise of the young woman on her resuscitation, when she found herself in a strange house, and, as it were, in the arms of her lover, who soon informed her of what had taken place on her account. She then comprehended the extent of her obligation to her deliverer; and love, more pathetic than all his persuasions to unite their destinies, determined her, on her recovery, to escape with him into England. This was effected; and they lived for some years in the closest union.
At the end of ten years, they conceived the natural wish of revisiting their own country, and at length returned to Paris, where they took no precaution whatever of concealing themselves, being persuaded that no suspicion would attach to their arrival. It happened however, by chance, that the financier met his wife in one of the public walks. The sight of her made so strong an impression on him, that for some time he imagined it must be her apparition; and, being fully persuaded of her death, he could not for a long time efface that idea. However, he so contrived it as to join her; and, notwithstanding the language she made use of to impose upon him, he left her with the conviction that he was not deceived at finding her a living substance.
The singularity of this event gave more charms to the woman in the eyes of her former husband than she before possessed. He therefore acted with such address, that he discovered her abode, notwithstanding all her precautions, and reclaimed her with all the regular formalities of justice.
It was in vain that the lover maintained the right which his cares for his mistress gave him to the possession of her; that he represented her inevitable death but for him; that his adversary divested himself of all his own rights, by causing her to be buried; that he ought even to be accused of homicide, for want of having taken proper precautions to assure himself of her death; and a thousand other ingenious reasons, which love suggested to him. But, finding that the judicial ear was unfavourable, and not thinking it expedient to wait the result of a definitive judgment, he fled with his mistress into a foreign country; where they passed the remainder of their days without further molestation.
THE
CREDULOUS BISHOP.
A few years since, a memorable conference took place between Dr. Fowler (then Bishop of Gloucester) and a Mr. Justice Powell: the former, a zealous defender of ghosts; and the latter, somewhat sceptical about them. They had several altercations upon the subject; and once, when the Bishop made a visit to the Justice, the latter, contracting the muscles of his face into an air of more than usual severity, assured the Bishop, that, since their last disputation, besides his Lordship's strong reasons, he had met with no less proof than ocular demonstration, to convince him of the real existence of ghosts. "How!" says the Bishop, "ocular demonstration! Well, I have preached, I have printed, upon the subject; but nothing will convince you sceptics but ocular demonstration. I am glad, Mr. Justice, you are become a convert. But pray, Sir, how went this affair? I beseech you, let me know the whole story." "My Lord," answered the Justice, "as I lay one night in my bed, and had gone through the better half of my first sleep, it being about twelve o'clock, on a sudden I was awakened by a very strange and uncommon noise, and heard something coming up stairs, and stalking directly towards my room. I had the courage to raise myself upon my pillow, and to draw the curtain, just as I heard my chamber-door open, and saw a glimmering light enter my chamber." "Of a blue colour, no doubt," says the Bishop. "Of a pale blue," answers the Justice. "But, permit me, my good Lord, to proceed. The light was followed by a tall, meagre, and stern personage, who seemed to be of the age of seventy, in a long dangling rug gown, bound round his loins with a broad leathern girdle; his beard was thick and grizzly; he had a large fur cap on his head, and a long staff in his hand; his face was full of wrinkles, and seemed to be of a dark and sable hue. I was struck with the appearance of so surprising a figure, and felt some shocks which I had never before been acquainted with. Soon after the spectre had entered my room, with a hasty, but somewhat stately pace, it drew near my bed, and stared me full in the face." "And did you not speak to it?" interrupted the Bishop, with a good deal of emotion. "With submission, my Lord," says the Justice, "please only to indulge me in a few words more." "But, Mr. Justice, Mr. Justice," replies the Bishop still more hastily, "you should have spoken to it; there was money hid, or a murder committed; and give me leave to observe that murder is a matter cognizable by law, and this came regularly into judgment before you." "Well, my Lord, you will have your way; but, in short, I did speak to it." "And what answer, Mr. Justice, I pray you—what answer did it make you?" "My Lord, the answer was, not without a thump with the staff, and a shake of the lanthorn, that he was the watch-man of the night, and came to give me notice, that he had found the street-door open, and that, unless I arose and shut it, I might chance to be robbed before break of day."
The moment these words were out of the good Justice's mouth, the Bishop vanished with much more haste than did the supposed ghost, and in as great a surprise at the Justice's scepticism, as the Justice was at the Bishop's credulity.