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.”