MORE PHANTASMS OF THE DEAD--II.
The cases included in this chapter are also very well
authenticated--some of them being longer and more detailed than those
included in the last chapter. I shall begin with a group of so-called
"Pact" Cases--cases, that is, in which a Pact or Agreement was made
before death--to appear after death, if possible; when that promise
seems to have been kept. The first case of this character is short, and
merely illustrative of the kind of ghostly phenomena to be expected
in cases of this nature. The latter cases are better attested. I give
first the case of the Marquis of Rambouillet.
COMPACTS TO APPEAR AFTER DEATH
The story of the Marquis of Rambouillet's appearing after his death
to his cousin, the Marquis de Precy, is well authenticated. These two
noblemen, talking one day concerning the affairs of the next world, in
a manner which showed they did not believe much about it, entered into
an agreement that the first who died should come and give intelligence
to the other.
Soon afterwards the Marquis of Rambouillet set out for Flanders, which
was then the seat of war, and the Marquis de Precy remained in Paris,
being ill of a violent fever. About six weeks after, early one morning,
he heard someone draw the curtains of his bed, and turning to see who
it was, discovered the Marquis of Rambouillet in a buff coat and boots.
He instantly got out of bed, and attempted to shake hands with his
friend, but Rambouillet drew back, and told him he had only come to
perform the promise he had formerly made; that nothing was more certain
than another life; and that he earnestly advised him to alter his mode
of life, for in the first battle he would be engaged in, he would
certainly fall.
Precy made a fresh attempt to touch his friend, but he immediately
withdrew. Precy lay upon his bed wondering upon the strangeness of the
circumstances for some time, when he saw the same appearance re-enter
the apartment. Rambouillet, finding that Precy still disbelieved what
he was told, showed him the wound of which he had died, and from which
the blood still seemed to flow.
Soon after this, Precy received a confirmation of Rambouillet's death,
and was killed himself, according to the prediction, in the civil wars,
at the battle of Faubourg St. Antoine.
LORD BROUGHAM'S VISION
The promise to appear was given and kept in the case of the apparition
seen by Lord Brougham.
The story is given as follows in the first volume of "Lord Brougham's
Memoirs":
"A most remarkable thing happened to me, so remarkable that I must
tell the story from the beginning. After I left the High School I went
with G----, my most intimate friend, to attend the classes in the
University. There was no divinity class, but we frequently in our walks
discussed many grave subjects--among others the immortality of the soul
and a future state. This question, and the possibility of the dead
appearing to the living, were the subject of much speculation, and we
actually committed the folly of drawing up an agreement, written with
our blood, to the effect that whichever of us died the first should
appear to the other, and thus solve any doubts we had entertained of
the 'life after death.' After we had finished our classes at the
College, G---- went to India, having got an appointment there in the
Civil Service. He seldom wrote to me, and after a lapse of a few years
I had nearly forgotten his existence.... One day I had taken, as I have
said, a warm bath, and, while lying in it and enjoying the comfort of
the heat, I turned my head round, looking towards the chair on which
I had deposited my clothes, as I was about to get out of the bath. On
the chair sat G----, looking calmly at me! How I got out of the bath
I know not; but on recovering my senses, I found myself sprawling
on the floor. The apparition, or whatever it was that had taken the
likeness of G----, had disappeared. This vision had produced such a
shock that I had no inclination to talk about it, or to speak about it
even to Stewart, but the impression it made upon me was too vivid to
be easily forgotten, and so strongly was I affected by it that I have
here written down the whole history, with the date, December 19th, and
all the particulars, as they are now fresh before me. No doubt I had
fallen asleep, and that the apparition presented so distinctly before
my eyes was a dream I cannot for a moment doubt; yet for years I had
had no communication with G----, nor had there been anything to recall
him to my recollection. Nothing had taken place concerning our Swedish
travels connected with G----, or with India, or with anything relating
to him, or to any member of his family. I recollected quickly enough
our old discussion, and the bargain we had made. I could not discharge
from my mind the impression that G---- must have died, and that his
appearance to me was to be received by me as a proof of a future state.
This was on December 19th, 1799."
In October, 1862, Lord Brougham added as a Postscript:
"I have just been copying out from my Journal the account of this
strange dream. _Certissima mortis imago!_ And now to finish the story
begun about sixty years ago: Soon after my return to Edinborough there
arrived a letter from India announcing G----'s death, and stating that
he died on December 19th."
Lord Brougham attempts to account for this vision by stating that it
was probably a dream. But this is negatived by the fact that he was so
startled by it as to scramble out of the bath in a great hurry--which
would not be at all likely had it been a dream--for, as we know,
nothing surprises us in dreams, or seems unlikely. And even granting
that it were a dream, we still have the _coincidence_ to account for.
_Why_ should Lord Brougham have dreamed this particular dream at the
very moment his friend died? That fact has yet to be accounted for.
THE TYRONE GHOST
This is also known as the Beresford Ghost, and is one of the most
famous cases of its kind on record. The account, as herein given, is
that supplied by the granddaughter of Lady Beresford, to whom the
experience came; and hence may be considered as accurate as it can
be made. It furnishes us with a definite example of a "ghost that
touches," and leaves a permanent mark of its visit, ever afterwards.
Here is the account:
"In the month of October, 1693, Sir Tristram and Lady Beresford went
on a visit to her sister, Lady Macgill, at Gill Hall, now the seat of
Lord Clanwilliam.... One morning Sir Tristram arose early, leaving Lady
Beresford asleep, and went out for a walk before breakfast. When his
wife joined the table very late, her appearance and the embarrassment
of her manner attracted general attention, especially that of her
husband. He made anxious inquiries as to her health, and asked her
apart what had happened to her wrist, which was tied up with black
ribbon tightly bound round it. She earnestly entreated him not to
inquire more then, or thereafter, as to the cause of her wearing or
continuing afterwards to wear that ribbon; 'for,' she added, 'you will
never see me without it.' He replied: 'Since you urge it so vehemently,
I promise you not to inquire more about it.'
"After completing her hurried breakfast, she made inquiries as to
whether the post had yet arrived. It had not yet come in, and Sir
Tristram asked: 'Why are you so particularly eager about letters
to-day?' 'Because I expect to hear of Lord Tyrone's death, which took
place on Tuesday.' 'Well,' remarked Sir Tristram, 'I never put you
down for a superstitious person, but I suppose that some idle dream
has disturbed you.' Shortly after, the servant brought in the letters;
one was sealed with black wax. 'It is as I expected,' she cried, 'he
is dead.' The letter was from Lord Tyrone's steward to inform them
that his master had died in Dublin, on Tuesday, 14 October, at 4 p.m.
Sir Tristram endeavored to console her, and begged her to restrain her
grief, when she assured him that she felt relieved and easier, now
that she knew the actual fact. She added, 'I can now give you a most
satisfactory piece of intelligence, _viz._, that I am with child, and
that it will be a boy.' A son was born the following July.
"On her forty-seventh birthday, Lady Beresford summoned her children
to her side, and said to them: 'I have something of deep importance
to communicate to you, my dear children, before I die. You are no
strangers to the intimacy and affection which subsisted in early life
between Lord Tyrone and myself.... We had made a solemn promise to
one another, that whichever died first should, if permitted, appear
to the other.... One night, years after this interchange of promises,
I was sleeping with your father at Gill Hall, when I suddenly awoke
and discovered Lord Tyrone sitting visibly by the side of the bed. I
screamed out and vainly tried to arouse Sir Tristram. "Tell me," I
said, "Lord Tyrone, why and wherefore are you here at this time of the
night?" "Have you then forgotten our promises to each other, pledged
in early life? I died on Tuesday, at 4 o'clock. I have been permitted
thus to appear.... I am also suffered to inform you that you are with
child, and will produce a son, who will marry an heiress; that Sir
Tristram will not live long, that you will marry again, and you will
die in your forty-seventh year." I begged from him some convincing sign
or proof so that when the morning came I might rely upon it, and that
it was not the phantom of my imagination. He caused the hangings of
the bed to be drawn in an unusual way and impossible manner through
an iron hook. I still was not satisfied, when he wrote his signature
in my pocketbook. I wanted, however, more substantial proof of his
visit, when he laid his hand, which was cold as marble, on my wrist;
the sinews shrunk up, the nerves withered at the touch. "Now," he said,
"let no mortal eye while you live ever see that wrist," and vanished.
While I was conversing with him my thoughts were calm, but as soon as
he disappeared I felt chilled with horror and dismay, a cold sweat came
over me, and I again endeavored, but vainly, to awaken Sir Tristram; a
flood of tears came to my relief, and I fell asleep....'
"That year Lady Beresford died. On her deathbed, Lady Riverson unbound
the black ribbon and found the wrist exactly as Lady Beresford had
described it--every nerve withered, every sinew shrunk...."
"DEAD OR ALIVE"
In the following case the ghost kept its promise to appear--doing
so, to all appearances, in spite of great obstacles. The incident is
reported in Mr. W. T. Stead's _Real Ghost Stories_, pp. 205-8:
"The following incident occurred to me some years ago, and all the
details can be substantiated. The date was August 26, 1867, at
midnight. I was then residing in the neighborhood of Hull, and held an
appointment under the crown which necessitated my repairing thither
every day for a few hours duty. My berth was almost a sinecure; and I
had for some time been engaged to a young north country heiress, it
being understood that on our marriage I should take her name and 'stand
for the county' or rather for one of its divisions.
"For her sake I had to break off a love affair, not of the most
reputable order, with a girl in Hull. I will call her Louise. She was
young, beautiful, and devoted to me. On the night of the 26th of August
we took our last walk together, and a few minutes before midnight
paused on a wooden bridge running across a kind of canal, locally
termed a 'drain.' We paused on the bridge, listening to the swirling
of the current against the wooden piles, and waiting for the stroke
of midnight to part forever. In the few minutes interval she repeated
_sotto voce_, Longfellow's 'Bridge,' the words of which, 'I stood on
the bridge at midnight,' seemed terribly appropriate. After nearly
twenty-five years I can never hear that piece recited without feeling
a deadly chill, and the whole scene of two souls in agony again rising
before me. Well! Midnight struck and we parted; but Louise said: 'Grant
me one favor, the only one that I shall ever ask you on this earth;
promise to meet me here twelve months from to-night at this same hour.'
I demurred at first, thinking it would be bad for both of us, and only
re-open partially-healed wounds. At last, however, I consented, saying,
'Well, I will come if I am alive.' But she said, 'Say alive or dead.' I
said, 'Very well, then, we will meet, dead or alive.'
"The next year I was on the spot a few minutes before the time; and,
punctual to the stroke of midnight, Louise arrived. By this time I had
begun to regret the arrangement I had made; but it was of too solemn a
nature to put aside. I therefore kept the appointment; but said that
I did not care to renew the compact. Louise, however, persuaded me to
renew it for one more year; and I consented, much against my will; and
we again left each other, repeating the same formula, 'Dead or Alive.'
"The next year after passed rapidly until the first week in July,
when I was shot dangerously in the thigh by a fisherman named Thomas
Piles, of Hull, a reputed smuggler. A party of four of us had hired
his ten-ton yawl to go yachting round the Yorkshire coast, and amuse
ourselves by shooting sea-birds amongst the millions of them at
Flamborough Head. The third or fourth day out I was shot in the right
thigh by the skipper Piles; and the day after, one and a quarter ounce
of number 2 shot were cut out therefrom by the coastguard surgeon at
Bridlington Quay (whose name I forget for the moment), assisted by Dr.
Alexander Mackey, at the Black Lion hotel. The affair was in all the
papers at the time, about a column of it appearing in the _Eastern
Morning News_, of Hull.
"As soon as I was able to be removed (two or three weeks) I was taken
home, where Dr. Melburne King, of Hull, attended me. The day--and the
night--(the 26th of August) came. I was then unable to walk without
crutches, and that for only a short distance, so had to be wheeled
about in a Bath chair. The distance to the trysting place being rather
long, and the time and the circumstances being very peculiar, I did
not avail myself of the services of my usual attendant, but specially
retained an old servant of the family, who frequently did confidential
commissions for me, and who knew Miss Louise well. We set forth
'without beat of drum' and arrived at the bridge about a few minutes
to midnight. I remember that it was a brilliant starlight night, but I
do not think that there was any moon--at all events, at that hour. 'Old
Bob,' as he was always affectionately called, wheeled me to the bridge,
helped me out of the Bath chair, and gave me my crutch. I walked on to
the bridge, and leaned my back against the white painted rail top, then
lighted my briar-root, and had a comfortable smoke.
"I was very much annoyed that I had allowed myself to be persuaded to
come a second time, and determined to tell Louise positively that this
should be our last meeting. Besides, _now_, I did not consider it fair
to Miss K., with whom I was again 'negotiating.' So, if anything, it
was in rather a sulky frame of mind that I awaited Louise. Just as the
quarters before the hour began to chime I distinctly heard the 'clink,
clink' of the little brass heels, which she always wore, sounding on
the long flagged causeway, leading for 200 yards up to the bridge.
As she got nearer, I could see her pass lamp after lamp in rapid
succession, while the strokes of the large clock at Hull resounded
through the stilly night.
"At last the patter, patter of the tiny feet sounded on the woodwork
of the bridge, and I saw her distinctly pass under the lamp at my
side. When she got close to me I saw that she had neither hat nor cape
on, and concluded that she had taken a cab at the further end of the
flagged causeway, and (it being a very warm night) had left her wraps
in the cab, and, for purposes of effect, had come the short distance in
evening dress.
"'Clink, clink,' went the brass heels, and she seemed about passing me,
when I suddenly, urged by an impulse of affection, stretched out my
arms to receive her. She passed _through_ them, intangible, impalpable,
and as she looked at me I distinctly saw her lips move, and form the
words 'Dead or Alive.' I even heard the words, but not with my outward
ears, with something else, some other sense--what, I know not. I felt
startled, surprised, but not afraid, until a moment afterwards, when I
_felt_, but could not see, some other presence following her. I could
_feel_, though I could not _hear_, the heavy, clumsy thud of feet
following her; and my blood seemed turned to ice. Recovering myself
with an effort, I shouted out to Old Bob, who was safely ensconsed
with the Bath chair in a nook out of sight round the corner: 'Bob, who
passed you just now?' In an instant the old Yorkshire-man was by my
side. 'Ne'er a one passed me, sir.' 'Nonsense, Bob,' I replied, 'I told
you that I was coming to meet Miss Louise, and she just passed me on
the bridge, and _must_ have passed you, because there is no where else
she _could_ go. You don't mean to tell me you didn't see her?' The old
man replied solemnly: 'Maister Rob, there's something uncanny about it.
I heered her come on the bridge, and off it, and I knaw them clickety
heels onywhere! but I'm domned, sir, if she passed me! I'm thinking
we'd better gang.' And 'gang' we did; and it was the small hours of the
morning (getting daylight) before we left off talking over the affair,
and went to bed.
"The next day I made inquiries from Louise's family about her, and
ascertained that she had died in Liverpool three months previously,
being apparently delirious for a few hours before her death, and, our
parting compact evidently weighing on her mind, as she kept repeating,
'Dead or Alive--shall I be there?'--to the utter bewilderment of her
friends, who could not divine her meaning--being, of course, entirely
unaware of our agreement."
* * * * *
This completes the examples of the so-called "Pact" cases. In the
following example, the phantasmal form conveyed a piece of information
to the percipient which he could not well have known by any normal
means.
THE SCRATCH ON THE CHEEK
The case appeared in the _Proceedings_ of the Amer. S. P. R., and the
high character of the witnesses was vouched for by Dr. Hodgson and
Prof. Royce. It is to the following effect:
"_January 11, 1888._
"Sir: Replying to your recently published request for actual
occurrences of psychical phenomena, I respectively submit the following
remarkable occurrence to the consideration of your distinguished
Society, with the assurance that the event made a more powerful
impression upon my mind than the combined incidents of my whole
life.... I was never in better health or possessed a clearer head and
mind than at the time the incident occurred.
"In 1867, my only sister, a young lady of eighteen years, died suddenly
of cholera, in St. Louis, Mo. My attachment for her was very strong,
and the blow a severe one to me. A year or so after her death, I became
a commercial traveller, and it was in 1876, while on one of my Western
trips that the event occurred.
"I had 'drummed' the city of St. Joseph, Mo., and had gone to my room
at the Pacific House to send in my orders, which were unusually large
ones, so that I was in a very happy frame of mind indeed. My thoughts,
of course, were about these orders, knowing how pleased my house would
be at my success. I had not been thinking of my late sister, or in
any manner reflecting on the past. The hour was high noon, and the
sun was shining cheerfully into my room. While busy smoking a cigar,
and writing out my orders, I suddenly became conscious that some one
was sitting on my left, with one arm resting on the table. Quick as a
flash I turned, and distinctly saw the form of my dead sister, and for
a brief second or two looked her squarely in the face; and so sure was
I that it was she, that I sprang forward in delight, calling her by
name, and, as I did so, the apparition instantly vanished. Naturally I
was startled and dumbfounded, almost doubting my senses; but the cigar
in my mouth, and pen in hand, with the ink still moist on my letter,
I satisfied myself I had not been dreaming and was still awake. I was
near enough to touch her, had it been a physical possibility, and noted
her features, expression, and details of dress, etc. She appeared as
if alive. Her eyes looked kindly and perfectly naturally into mine.
Her skin was so perfectly life-like that I could see the glow or
moisture in the surface, and, on the whole there was no change in her
appearance, otherwise than when alive.
"Now comes the most remarkable confirmation of my statement, which
cannot be doubted by those who know what I state actually occurred.
This visitation, or whatever you may call it, so impressed me that I
took the next train home, and in the presence of my parents and others
I related what had occurred. My father, a man of rare good sense and
very practical, was inclined to ridicule me, as he saw how earnestly
I believed what I stated; but he, too, was amazed when later on I
told them of a bright red line or _scratch_ on the right-hand side of
my sister's face, which I distinctly had seen. When I mentioned this
my mother rose trembling to her feet and nearly fainted away, and
as soon as she had sufficiently recovered her self-possession, with
tears streaming down her face, she exclaimed that I had indeed seen
my sister, as no living mortal but herself was aware of that scratch,
which she had actually made while doing some little act of kindness
after my sister's death. She said she well remembered how pained she
was to think she should have, unintentionally, marred the features
of her dead daughter, and that, unknown to all, she had carefully
obliterated all traces of the slight scratch with the aid of powder,
etc., and that she had never mentioned it to a human being, from that
day to this.... Yet I saw the scratch as bright as if just made...."
[Confirmatory statements were obtained from the narrator's father and
brother; his mother having died in the interval.]
A GHOST IN HAMPTON COURT
Miss X. (Mrs. Hans Spoer) relates the following interesting case, as
occurring to herself, on a visit to the well-known Hampton Court.
(_Essays in Psychical Research_, pp. 31-34):
"I recently found myself the guest of a lady occupying a pleasant suite
of rooms in Hampton Court Palace. For obvious reasons I cannot specify
the name of my hostess, the exact date of my visit, or the precise
whereabouts of her apartment.
"Of course I was familiar with the Hampton Court ghost legend.... I
examined the scene of the occurrences, and was allowed to ask questions
at will. The ghost, I was told, visited habitually in a dozen different
rooms--not, however, in the bright, dainty drawing room in which we
were chatting, and where it was difficult to believe that we were
discussing recent history.
"As a matter of fact, it was very recent, indeed. But a few nights
earlier, in a certain small but cheerful bedroom, a little girl had
been awakened out of her sleep by a visitant so dramatic that I
wondered whether the child had possibly gone to sleep again, after her
original fright, and dreamed the later and more sensational part of the
story.
"My room was quaintly pretty, but somewhat peculiar in arrangement, and
lighted only from the roof. I have seen 'ghosts' before, have slept for
months together in haunted houses; and, though I find such visitants
somewhat exciting, I cannot say that my prospects for the night filled
me with any degree of apprehension.
"At dinner and during the evening ghostly topics were avoided; there
were other guests, and music and chat occupied us till 11 o'clock,
when my hostess accompanied me to my room. I asked various questions
as to my neighbours above and below, and the exact position of other
members of the household, with a view to knowing how to interpret any
sounds which might occur. About a third of the ceiling of my room was
skylight; the servant's bedroom being situated over the remainder. Two
sides of the room were bounded by a corridor, into which it opened;
a third of the wall by the state apartments, while the fourth opened
by folding doors upon a room for the time unoccupied (except by a cat,
asleep upon a chair) out of which there opened a door, leading by a
secret passage to the bank of the river.
"I ascertained that the folding doors were locked; moreover, a heavy
table stood against them on the outer side, and a wardrobe on the
inner. The bedstead was a small one, without curtains; indeed, the room
contained no hangings whatever. The door into the room opened so nearly
to the head of my bed that there was space only for a small table, upon
which I took care to place two long candles, and a plentiful supply of
matches, being somewhat addicted to late and early reading.
"I was tired, but a sense of duty demanded that I should not sleep
through the 'witching hours,' so I sat up in bed, and gave my best
attention to Lord Farrer's problem, 'Shall We Degrade our Standard
of Value?' in the current number of the _National Review_, and, on
the principle of always trying to see both sides of a question,
thought of several reasons why we should not, with the author, come
to a negative conclusion. The matter did not, however, excite me to
the pitch of wakefulness; and when I finished the article, as the
clock struck half-past one, I considered myself absolved from further
responsibility, put out my lights, and was asleep before the next
quarter sounded.
"Nearly three hours later I was suddenly awakened from dreamless
slumber by the sound of the opening of a door against which some piece
of furniture was standing, in, as it seemed, the empty room to my
right. I remembered the cat, and tried to conceive by what kind of
'rampaging' she could contrive to be so noisy. A minute later there
followed a thud apparently on _this_ side of the folding doors, and too
heavy for even the prize animals of my home circle, not to speak of a
mongrel stray, newly adopted and not yet doing credit to her keep! 'A
dress fallen in the wardrobe,' was my next thought, and I stretched out
my hand for the match-box, as a preliminary to enquiry.
"I did not reach the matches. It seemed to me that a restraining
hand was laid upon mine; I withdrew it quickly, and gazed around me
in the darkness. Some minutes passed in blackness and silence. I had
the sensation of a presence in the room, and finally, mindful of the
tradition that a ghost should be spoken to, I said gently: 'Is anyone
there? Can I do anything for you?' I remembered that the last person
who entertained the ghost had said: 'Go away, I don't want you!' and I
hoped that my visitor would admire my better manners and be responsive.
However, there was no answer--no sound of any kind; and returning to
my theory of the cat and the fallen dress, though nevertheless so far
influenced by the recollection of those detaining fingers as not to
attempt to strike a light, I rose and walked round my bed, keeping
the right hand on the edge of the bedstead, while, with my left arm
extended, I swept the surrounding space. As the room is small, I thus
fairly well satisfied myself that it contained nothing unusual.
"I was, though somewhat perplexed, about to grant myself license to
go to sleep again, when in the darkness before me there began to glow
a soft light. I watched it increase in brightness and in extent. It
seemed to radiate from a central point, which gradually took form
and became a tall, slight woman, moving slowly across the room from
the folding doors on my right. As she passed the foot of my bed I
felt a slight vibration of the spring mattress. At the further corner
she stopped, so that I had time to observe her profile and general
appearance. Her face was insipidly pretty; that of a woman from thirty
to thirty-five years of age, her figure slight, her dress of a soft
dark material, having a full skirt and broad sash or soft waist-band
tied high up, almost under her arms, a crossed or draped 'kerchief over
the shoulders, sleeves which I noticed fitted very tight below the
elbow, and hair which was dressed so as not to lie flat to the head,
either in curls or bows, I could not tell which. As she appeared to
stand between me and the light, I cannot speak with any certainty as
to the color, but the dress, though dark, was, I think, not black. In
spite of all this definiteness, I was, of course, conscious that the
figure was unsubstantial, and I felt guilty of absurdity in asking once
more: 'Will you let me help you? Can I be of use to you?'
"My voice sounded preternaturally loud, but I felt no surprise at
noticing that it produced no effect upon my visitor. She stood still
for perhaps two minutes--though it is very difficult to estimate time
on such occasions. She then raised her hands, which were long and
white, and held them before her as she sank upon her knees and slowly
buried the face in her palms, in the attitude of prayer--when, quite
suddenly, the light went out, and I was alone in the darkness.
"I felt that the scene was ended, the curtain down, and had no
hesitation in lighting the candle at my side.
"I tried to examine the impression the vision conveyed. I felt that it
was definitely that of reproach, yet of gentle resignation. There was
no force, no passion; I had seen a meek, sad woman who had succumbed. I
began to turn over in my mind the illustrious names of former occupants
of the chamber. I fixed on one--a bad man of the worst kind, a mad
fool of that time of wickedness and folly, the Regency--I thought of
the secret passage in the next room, and began to weave an elaborate
romance.
"'This will not do here and now,' I reflected, as the clock struck
four; and, as an act of mental discipline, I returned to my _National
Review_.... I turned to Mr. Myers' article on 'The Drift of Psychical
Research,' which I had already seen. I read:
"'... Where telepathy operates, many intelligences may affect our
own. Some of these are the minds of living persons, but some appear
to be discarnate, to be spirits like ourselves, but released from the
body, although still retaining much of the personality of earth. These
spirits appear still to have some knowledge of our world, and to be in
certain ways able to affect it.'
"Here was, so to speak, the text of my illustration. I had quite enough
to think about--more than I needed for that occasion. I never heard the
clock strike five!
* * * * *
"Let us try to examine this, a type of many ghost stories.
"Elsewhere I have classified visions of persons, whether seen in the
crystal or otherwise, as:
"1. Visions of the living, clairvoyant or telepathic, usually
accompanied by their own background, or adapting themselves to mine.
"2. Visions of the departed, having no obvious relations to time and
space.
"3. Visions which are more or less of the nature of pictures, such
as those which I voluntarily produce in the crystal from memory or
imagination, or which appear in the background of real persons as
illustrative of their thoughts of history. This is very often the case
when an impression reaches me in visual form from the mind of a friend
who, it may be, imperfectly remembers or is imperfectly informed as to
the form and color of the picture his mind conveys.
"Again I emphasize the fact that I am speculating, not
dogmatizing--that I am speaking from internal evidence, with no
possibility of corroboration, and that I am perfectly aware that
each reader must take this for what it seems to him worth. Such being
the case, I venture to classify the vision under Class III. Again,
to borrow from Mr. Myers, I believe that what I saw may have been
a _telepathic impression of the dreams_ (or I should prefer to say
'_thoughts_') _of the dead_. If what I saw were indeed veridical or
truth-telling--if my readers will agree to admit that what I saw was
no mere illusion, or morbid hallucination, or imagination (taking the
word in its commonly-accepted sense)--then I believe that my visitor
was not a departed spirit, such as it has before now, perhaps, been
my privilege to meet, but rather an image as such--just as the figure
which, it may be, sits at my dining table is not _really_ the friend
whose visit a few hours later it announces, but only a representation
of him, having no objective existence apart from the truth of the
information it conveys--a thought which is personal to the brain which
thinks it.
"I have already said that, preconceived notions apart, I had no
impression of reality. I recognized that what I saw and felt was an
externalization of impressions unconsciously received, possibly from
some discarnate mind...."
HALF-PAST ONE O'CLOCK
The following case is in many ways classical. Mrs. Claughton, to whom
the experience came, was a widowed lady, living in good social circles.
The full account of her experience is to be found in the _Proceedings_
of the Society for Psychical Research (Vol. XI., pp. 547-59), and
contains statements and personal investigations by Dr. Ferrier, Andrew
Lang, Mr. Myers and the Marquis of Bute as well as corroborative
testimony from the Clerk at Meresby, Mrs. Claughton's governess, copies
of letters, diaries, memoranda, etc. The whole case is very complicated
and impressive; and embodies a combination of apparent spirit
communication, clairvoyance, telepathy, precognition, apparitions,
and supernormal dreams. The chief and most interesting account is the
statement made by Mrs. Claughton to the Marquis of Bute, and recorded
by him as follows:
"She was staying in 1893 with her two children at 6 Blake St., a house
belonging to Mrs. Appleby, daughter of the late Mrs. Blackburn ...
but let to Mrs. Buckley. She had heard the house was haunted, and may
have heard that the ghost was Mrs. Blackburn's. She had been told also
that water was spilt on the floors inexplicably. They arrived on
October 4th. About 1.15 a.m., Monday, October 9th, Mrs. Claughton was
in bed with one of her children, the other sleeping in the room. Mrs.
Claughton had offered to be of any use she could to Miss Buckley, who
had arrived from London on the Saturday, not feeling very well. She
had been asleep, and was awakened by the footsteps of a person coming
downstairs, whom she supposed to be a servant coming to call her. The
steps stopped at the door. The sounds were repeated twice more at the
interval of a few moments. Mrs. Claughton rose, lit the candle, and
opened the door. There was no one there. She noticed the clock outside
pointed to 1.20 a.m. She shut the door, got into bed, read, and,
leaving the candle burning, went to sleep. Woke up, finding the candle
spluttering out. Heard a sound like a sigh. Saw a woman standing by
the bed. She had a soft white shawl round the shoulders, held by the
right hand towards the left shoulder, bending slightly forwards. Mrs.
Claughton thinks the hair was lightish brown, and the shawl partly
over the head, but does not remember distinctly, and has no impression
of the rest of the dress; it was not grave-clothes. She said: 'Follow
me.' Mrs. Claughton rose, took the candle, and followed her out of
the room, across the passage, and into the drawing-room. She had no
recollection as to the opening of the doors. The house maid next day
declared that the drawing-room door had been locked by her. On entering
the drawing-room, Mrs. Claughton, finding the candle on the point of
extinction, replaced it by a pink one from the chiffonier near the
door. The figure nearly at the end of the room, turned three-quarters
round, said 'to-morrow,' and disappeared. Mrs. Claughton returned to
the bedroom, where she found her elder child (not the one in the bed)
sitting up. It asked: 'Who is the lady in white?' Mrs. Claughton thinks
she answered the child: 'It's only me--mother; go to sleep,' or the
like words, and hushed her to sleep in her arms. The baby remained fast
asleep. She lit the gas and remained awake for some two hours, then put
out the lights and went to sleep. Had no fear while seeing the figure,
but was upset after seeing it. Would not be prepared to swear that she
might not have walked in her sleep. Pink candle, partly burned, in her
room in morning. Does not know if she took it burnt or new.
"In the morning she spoke to Mr. Buckley, on whose advice she went to
ask Dr. Ferrier as to the figure about 3 p.m. He and his wife said
the description was like that of Mrs. Blackburn, whom Mrs. Claughton
already suspected it to be. Thinks Dr. Ferrier already told her that
Miss Blackburn (Mrs. Appleby) had seen her mother in the same house.
Mrs. Claughton cannot recognize the photograph of Mrs. Blackburn shown
to her by Mr. Y. (who got it from Mrs. M.). She says the figure seemed
smaller, and the features were more pinched and attenuated, like those
of a person in the last stages of consumption, which was also the
general appearance. By his advice, Mr. Buckley put an electric bell
under Mrs. Claughton's pillow, communicating with Miss Buckley's room,
as Mrs. Claughton determined to sit up that night and watch.
"That night Mrs. Claughton sat up dressed, with the gas burning. About
12 she partly undressed, put on a dressing gown, and lay down outside
the bed, gas still burning, and fell asleep reading. Woke up and found
the same woman as before, but the expression even more agitated. She
bent over Mrs. Claughton and said: 'I have come, listen.' She then made
a certain statement and asked Mrs. Claughton to do certain things.
Mrs. Claughton said: 'Am I dreaming, or is it true?' The figure said
something like: 'If you doubt me, you will find that the date of my
marriage was * * *.' (This was the date of the marriage, which took
place in India, of Mrs. Blackburn to Mr. Blackburn, who is alive and
married again. Mrs. Claughton first learned the corroboration of the
date from Dr. Ferrier on the following Thursday). After this Mrs.
Claughton saw a man standing on Mrs. B.'s left hand--tall, dark, well
made, healthy, sixty years old, or more, ordinary man's day clothes,
kind, good expression. A conversation ensued between the three, in
course of which man stated himself to be George Howard, buried in
Meresby Churchyard (Mrs. Claughton had never heard of Meresby or of
George Howard) and gave the date of his marriage * * * and death * * *.
[Entries of these dates seen by me in Mrs. Claughton's pocketbook, as
torn out and lent to me. F. W. H. Myers.] He desired Mrs. Claughton to
go to Meresby and verify these dates in the registration, and, if found
correct, to go to the church at the ensuing 1.15 a.m. and wait at the
grave therein (S. W. corner of S. aisle) of Richard Hart, died * * *,
ætat * * *. She was to verify this reference also in the registers.
He said her railway ticket would not be taken, and she was to send it
along with a white rose from his grave to Dr. Ferrier. Forbade her
having any previous communication with the place, or going in her own
name. Said Joseph Wright, a dark man, to whom she should describe him,
would help her. That she would lodge with a woman who would tell her
that she had a child (drowned) buried in the same churchyard. When Mrs.
Claughton had done all this, she should hear the rest of the history.
Towards the end of the conversation, Mrs. Claughton saw a third
phantom, that of a man whose name she is not free to give, in great
trouble, standing, with hands on face (which he afterwards lowered,
showing face) behind Mrs. Blackburn's right. The three disappeared.
Mrs. Claughton rose and went to the door to look out at the clock, but
was seized with faintness, returned and rang the electric bell. Mr.
Buckley found her on the ground. She was able to ask the time, which
was about 1.20 a.m. Then fainted, and the Buckleys undressed her and
put her to bed.
"That morning, Tuesday, Mrs. Claughton sent for Dr. Ferrier, who
corroborated certain matters so far as she asked him, and ascertained
for her the date of Mrs. Blackburn's marriage (she received his note
of the date on Thursday). She went to the Post Office, and found that
Meresby existed. Returned, and ascertained that it was in Suffolk,
and so wrote that evening to Dr. Ferrier, and went to London with her
daughters that (Thursday) evening.
"Friday night, Mrs. Claughton dreamt that she arrived at 5, after
dusk, that a fair was going on, and that she had to go to place after
place to get lodgings. Also, she and her eldest daughter dreamt that
she would fail if she did not go alone. Went to Station for 12 noon
train on Saturday. Went to refreshment room for luncheon, telling
porter to call her in time. He went by mistake to waiting room, and
she missed train and had to wait (going to the British Museum, where
she wrote her name in Jewel room) until 3.5, as stated. House where
she finally found lodgings was that of Joseph Wright, who turned out
to be the parish clerk. She sent for the curate by porter, to ask as
to consulting registers, but as he was dining out he did not come till
after she had gone to bed. Sunday morning, Mrs. Wright spoke to her
about the drowned child buried in the churchyard. Went to forenoon
service, and immediately afterwards went into vestry and verified the
registers; described George Howard to Joseph Wright, who had known him
and recognized description; then was taken by Joseph Wright to the
graves of Richard Hart and George Howard. On the latter there is no
stone, but three mounds surrounded by a railing overgrown with white
roses. She gathered rose for Dr. Ferrier, as had been directed. Walked
and talked with curate, who was not sympathetic. After luncheon went
with Mrs. Wright and walked round Howard's house (country house in
park). Attended evening service, and afterwards, while, watching the
lights put out and the church furniture covered up, wondered if she
would have the nerve to go on. Back to supper; afterwards slept and had
dream of a terrorizing character, whereof has full written description.
Dark night, hardly any moon, a few stars. To church with Joseph Wright
at 1 a.m., with whom searched interior and found it empty. At 1.20
a.m. was locked in alone, having no light; had been told to take
Bible, but had only church-service, which she had left in vestry in
the morning. Waited near grave of Richard Hart; felt no fear. Received
communication, but does not feel free to give any detail; no light.
History begun at Blake street then completed. Was directed to take
another white rose from George Howard's grave and gathered rose for
Miss Howard, as had been directed. Home and bed, and slept well for the
first time since first seeing Mrs. Blackburn.
"Next day went and sketched church and identified grave of Mrs. Rose,
on whose grave, she had been told in church, she would find a message
for herself. The words engraved were * * *.
"Then called on Miss Howard and recognized strong likeness to her
father. Carried out all things desired by the dead to the full, as
had been requested. Has had no communication from any of them since.
Nothing since has appeared in Blake street. The wishes expressed to
her were not illogical or unreasonable, as the ratiocination of dreams
often appears, but perfectly rational, reasonable, and of natural
importance."
MY OWN TRUE GHOST STORY
The following narrative was told to me by a very well-known artist; who
maintains the strict accuracy of every word in his account, as given
below:
"I had been living in Paris for some months when I decided to change
my quarters, and move into a studio more in keeping with my present
allowance. After a brief search, I saw one which exactly suited me. It
was a large room, at the end of a long, dark rambling passage, with
doors leading into other studios on either side all the way down. As my
neighbours turned out to be a very jolly, happy crew, I liked the life
immensely, and everything promised well for the new abode.
"I had been there for, perhaps, two weeks when I had my first 'ghostly'
adventure. I had been out rather late, having had late supper, and
perhaps a little too much wine for my best health. At the same time, I
was absolutely sober, and in full possession of all my senses. I felt a
little happy and convivial--that was all.
"Walking along the passage, I was approaching my door when I distinctly
heard the rustle of a silk skirt walking down the passage ahead of
me. As the hallway was dark, I could not see whether or not the girl
was just in front of me, or some distance away. It never for a moment
struck me that it was not a flesh-and-blood visitant. My only thought
was: One of the boys has been having a little supper, and this must
be one of his visitors going home. I called aloud: 'Mayn't I strike
a light and show you the way along this dark hall?' And, suiting the
action to the word, I struck a match, and held it up over my head.
Nothing was visible! I peered into vacancy; no female figure could
I see. I listened for the sound of steps, or the swish of a silken
petticoat; but not a sound could I hear. I walked along the passage;
not a sign of life was anywhere manifest. Everything was dark, lonely
and deserted.
"I came to the conclusion that I must have been deceived; and thought
no more about it. I went to bed and to sleep.
"It was, perhaps, two nights later when the same thing occurred. Coming
home, about 10 o'clock at night, I heard the same swish of the skirt;
the same soft, feminine footsteps. This time the hall was light, and I
could _see_ that no one was there. I recalled the incident of the other
evening, and a cold chill began to creep up my backbone. I entered my
room, however, lit the lamp, leaving my door open. 'Now,' thought I,
'if anyone passes that door again, I shall surely see them.' I put on a
dressing gown and a pair of slippers, and sat down to read--facing the
door.
"Perhaps five minutes had elapsed when I saw the door very slowly
open still further on its hinges. A moment later I felt in the room a
'Presence,' which I distinctly felt to be that of a young woman, about
twenty years of age. So vivid was the mental picture I formed of this
person that her very features and coloring were sensed by me--though,
of course, I had no means of knowing whether or not I was right.
"The Presence glided across the room, and sat itself upon the edge of
my sofa, about three feet distant from where I sat. I looked at the
spot intently, and felt that the eyes of my invisible visitor were
upon me, regarding me intently, as though studying my character to the
best of her ability. She had a comfortable sort of feeling about her,
which made me seem at once at home with her; so that, without further
ceremony, I said to the Presence: 'Pray make yourself at home. If I can
do anything for you, let me know.'
"I waited, but of course there was no response. Only I thought I caught
again the faintest rustle of silk, as the figure seated itself in a
more comfortable position. I put down my book, and began to paint. The
feeling of loneliness, which I had experienced ever since my removal
into the new studio, vanished immediately. I felt that a living,
human--if invisible--being was with me, watching my work and keeping me
company during the long hours of discouragement and unproductive effort.
"Several times, during the course of the evening, I spoke to the
Presence; but received no reply. Only I felt its proximity, and knew
when the figure changed its position, as it did once or twice. Once it
came over and stood by my side, as though looking at the canvas, and
criticising it with me. Then it went back to its seat at the end of
the sofa.
"Bed time came. I felt almost abashed to go to bed with this feminine
presence in the room! However, as there was nothing left for me to do,
I undressed, got into bed, and blew out the light. The Presence came
over and sat on the side of my bed. When I went to sleep, it was still
sitting there.
"The next morning it had gone. I felt inexpressibly lonely. I missed
the Presence, whom I now began to call 'Her' instead of 'It,' and
wished she would return and keep me company! It did not do so, however,
until the following evening, when, about nine o'clock, I again felt her
approach, felt her entrance through my studio door, and felt her seat
herself in my easy chair, and turn her eyes upon me. I knew that she
was regarding me intently--perhaps critically--and I felt almost angry
that I, in turn, could not see her. I gazed at the chair _determined_
to see her; but nothing save empty space met my gaze! With a gesture of
impatience and irritation, I turned away, and went on with my painting.
"Presently, I was aware that She was standing beside me, examining
the painting upon the easel. 'Well, do you like it?' I said almost
caustically. The Presence immediately returned and sat in the chair,
and I knew that I had offended Her. I threw my brush and pallet aside
and apologized. So she came and stood by me again; and again she
remained with me until I closed my eyes in sleep.
"This sort of thing went on for several weeks. Every evening the
Presence visited me, kept me company, making the day seem long and
dreary until she came. I waited for her appearance with growing
impatience. I could never see or feel anything; my spoken words
brought no response; yet there she was; and I felt just as assured of
the presence, in my studio, of a feminine spiritual being as of my
own existence. Every evening the Presence was with me when I went to
sleep; every morning it had vanished. The sense of friendliness and
companionship was complete and unmistakable.
"One evening my visitor failed to appear! I could do no work; I
paced the floor, I could do nothing, think of nothing! The sense of
desolation and loneliness was absolute. I hardly realized, until then,
how completely I had grown accustomed to the presence of my invisible
visitor. I missed her more than I ever dreamed I could miss anyone in
life. Forlorn and forsaken, I went to bed, and finally dropped into a
fitful and broken sleep.
"For about a week things went on in this way. I had grown gradually
reconciled to my lonely life, and was painting hard for an exhibition
which was near at hand. One evening I came into the studio, and I found
the Presence waiting for me--seated in the easy chair, by the fire.
"I felt my heart and whole being give a throb of joy and
recognition--just as it would at the sight of an old and very dear
friend. I knew how much I had missed her! I knew that She had risen,
and was standing, facing me, as I entered. Before I had time to check
myself, or think what I was doing, I had rushed forward, crying
'Dearest,' with outstretched arms, and had embraced the spot where I
knew her to be standing! I grasped the empty air, but I somehow felt
two hands placed upon my shoulders, and the imprint of a delicate kiss
upon my lips.
"I no longer felt lonely. I whistled, I sang, I took off my coat,
and, donning jacket and slippers, set to work with joy upon my
picture. I painted hard, and all the while the Presence stood by me,
criticising--approving or disapproving--and in every instance I felt
Her criticism and judgment to be right.
"A year went by. I had to give up my studio, and return to America, on
my father's sudden death. The parting with the Presence I shall never
forget. Had two lovers in the flesh parted from one another, it could
not have been more real, more touching, more sincere. For my own part I
was heartbroken. The Presence, too, I knew to be weeping. The parting
was long and sorrowful. Finally, I tore myself away.
"I have never seen or felt anything from that day to this. But of
the reality and objective existence of that Presence I am as assured
as I am of any event in my life. No one can tell me that it was a
trick of the imagination--I know better! She was as real to me as any
personality I have ever known. Yes, the Unreal is Real, of that I have
no doubt whatever. My own experience with the Ghostly world has proved
that to _my_ satisfaction!"