Originally published in Fraser's Magazine (James Fraser) vol.2 #7 (Aug 1830).
"— I' the name of truth;
Are ye fantastical, or that, in deed,
Which outwardly ye show?"
Mr. Coleridge, being asked by a lady if he believed in ghosts, answered, "No, Madam. I have seen too many!" Paradoxical as this may at first sight appear, it is nevertheless good sense, and sufficiently explanatory. True it is, that the beneficial effects of modern science and modern wisdom have not been more interestingly exhibited than in explaining away old puzzling superstitions, and in accounting for the marvellous occurrence of mysterious events, by tracing them to a direct, tangible, physical cause. Chemistry, having escaped from the absurdities of its prototype, Alchemy, has opened our eyes to much wisdom, and taught us to look rather lower than the surface for the origin of our grandmothers' awful tales of ghosts and goblins—of "white spirits and black, red spirits and gray, with all their trumpery." Sir Humphrey Davy, in his pretty little book on Fly-fishing, has explained to us in a very simple manner, some abstruse points in meteorology. Thus, among others equally interesting, the reason why a red sunset, tinted with purple, portends a fine day is, that the air, when dry, refracts more red or heatmaking rays; and as dry air is not perfectly transparent, they are again reflected in the horizon. A copper or yellow sunset usually foretels rain; but as an indication of approaching wet weather, nothing is more certain than a halo round the moon. This is produced by the precipitated water, and the larger the halo, the nearer are the clouds, and consequently the more ready to fall. It is lucky in spring to see two magpies together; because it is an indication of fine warm weather, these birds never leaving the nest together when the weather is likely to be stormy. By the converse proposition of the same rule, one magpie is indicative of bad weather.
To approach nearer our present subject, we can now readily account for those dark and dismal forebodings, which are sometimes observed about the house of death. Who has not listened with horror and a sickening heart to the croaking of the raven, and the sharp flapping of its wings against the shuttered windows; the dull, doleful, and monotonous baying of dogs, a sound never to be mistaken; and the involuntary and untangible ringing of bells; when a beloved object is hovering between life and death, and we know not which is strongest in our bosoms, hope or despair? Our simple forefathers attributed these doleful omens to supernatural interposition, but we in this enlightened age of diffusible knowledge, well know, that they depend upon pure physical causes, without any intervention from the Evil One. As life is departing, the animal body emits a pungent gas, which the keen olfactories of the dog and the raven speedily sniff. The same subtle essence, probably by means of some electric influence, causes the bells to ring; and, occasionally, the doors to shut, with a loud and startling sound. Thus, these "awful sounds extraordinary," may be resolved into a little chemistry, and found to have their origin in—gas!
"In very early times," says Dr. Hibbert, "we find philosophers inclined to doubt, if apparitions might not be accounted for on natural principles, without supposing that a belief in them was either referable to hallucinations, to human imagination, or to impositions that might have been practised. At length Lucretius attacked the popular notion entertained of ghosts, by maintaining that they were not spirits returned from the mansions of the dead, but nothing more than thin films, pellicles, or membranes cast off from the surfaces of all bodies, like the exuviæ or sloughs of reptiles.
This is exceedingly curious, and deserving of particular attention, for, we find that this strange opinion prevailed among the Epicureans, and was revived in Europe about the middle of the 17th century. It had its origin in Palingenesy, or the resurrection of plants, a grand secret known to Sir Kenelm Digby, Kircher, Schot, Gafferel, Vallemont, &c. The operation of Palingenesy was no trivial one, and this was the order of its performance: a plant was selected, bruised, and burnt; its ashes were then collected, and the salt which their calcination produced, was carefully extracted. This salt was then put into a phial, and mixed with some peculiar substances, which were never disclosed. The compound thus formed was of a bluish colour, and easily reduced to powder. This powder was now submitted to a gentle heat, when its particles being instantly put into motion, there then gradually arose, as from the midst of the ashes, a stem, leaves, and flowers, or in other words, an apparition of the plant which had been submitted to this combustion. But as soon as the heat was abstracted, the form of the plant which had been thus sublimed, was precipitated to the bottom of the vessel. Heat was then re-applied, and the vegetable phœnix was resuscitated; it was withdrawn, and the form once more became latent among the ashes. This notable experiment was said to have been performed before the Royal Society, and it satisfactorily proved to this erudite body, that the presence of heat gave a sort of life to the vegetable apparition, and that the absence of heat, or caloric, caused its dissolution.
Cowley was quite delighted with this sage experiment; and his teeming imagination detected the same phenomenon in the letters written with the juice of lemons, which were rendered legible on the application of heat; and he celebrated the mystical influence of caloric after the following manner:
"Strange power of heat! thou yet dost show,
Like winter earth, naked, or cloth'd with snow;
But as quick'ning sun approaching near,
The plants arise up by degrees
A sudden paint adorns the trees,
And all kind nature's characters appear.
So nothing yet in thee is seen,
But when a genial heat warms thee within,
A new-born wood of various lines there grows;
Here buds an A, and there a B,
Here sprouts a V, and there a T,
And all the flourishing letters stand in rows!"
The famous metaphysician Kircher attempted the rationale of this famous experiment, made on the ashes of the rose. He imagined that the seminal virtue of every known substance was contained in its salt. This salt was concealed in the ashes of the rose. Heat put it in motion. The particles of the salt were quickly sublimed, and being moved about, vortex-like, in the phial, at length assumed their natural arrangement. It was evident, then, from this experiment, that these saline particles had a tendency to observe the same order of position which they held in the living plant. Thus, for instance, each saline corpuscle, which in its prior state was placed on the stem of the rose slip, sympathetically fixed itself in a corresponding position on the phial: other particles were subjected to the same influence, and thus, at length, the entire apparition of a plant was generated.
Having achieved this, it was easy enough to apply the rationale of this experiment to the elucidation of the popular belief in ghosts. No sooner was a body committed to the earth than the saline particles of which it was composed were exhaled by putrefaction: these particles, as in the case of the rose, resumed the relative situations which they held in the living body, and thus was manufactured "a horrid apparition, tall and ghastly," calculated to frighten and appal every one but a Palingenesist!
An accident revealed to the Alchemists this extraordinary discovery. Three of them, with the view of searching for the Philosopher's Stone, had obtained some mould from the church of St. Innocent, at Paris. While they were carefully distilling the precious dust, they suddenly perceived in their retorts the miniature forms of men, which caused them immediately to desist from their labours. An occurrence so wonderful soon reached the knowledge of the Institute of Paris, which, under the patronage of Louis XIV., took up the matter with much seriousness; and the result of its learned labours was duly recorded for the benefit of mankind, and is to be found properly authenticated in the Miscellania Curiosa. We must find room for one of these precious morsels:—
"A malefactor was executed, and his body obtained by a physician for dissection. After disposing of the other parts of the body, he ordered his assistant to pulverize part of the cranium, which was a remedy at that time used in medicine. The powder was left in a paper on a table in the museum, where the assistant slept. About midnight he was awakened by a noise in the room, which obliged him to rise immediately. The noise continued about the table, without any visible agent; and at length he traced it to the powder, in the midst of which he now beheld, to his unspeakable dismay, a small head with open eyes staring at him: presently two branches appeared, which assumed the forms of arms and hands; then the ribs became visible, which were soon clothed with muscles and integuments: next the lower extremities sprouted out, and when they appeared perfect, the puppet—for he was nothing more—reared himself on his feet: instantly his clothes came upon him(!) and he appeared in the very cloak he wore at his execution! The affrighted spectator, who stood hitherto mumbling his prayers with unceasing assiduity, now thought of making his escape from the resuscitated ruffian: but this was impossible, for the apparition planted himself in his way, and, after divers fierce looks and threatening gestures, opened the door and went out. No doubt the powder was missing the next day."
But these are among the most intricate and sublime solutions. If we come to consider the subject of apparitions, we shall find, with the aid of a little physical and metaphysical knowledge, that we shall be able to exorcise, lay, and drive away more spectres and hobgoblins than any magician or enchanter of ancient or modern times; from Zoroaster, Maugis, and Merlin, down to Michael Scot, and those worthy gentlemen of our own times, Messrs. Stiff and Nelson[1]—ever did, or ever could vanquish. But now—
"A thousand fantasies
Begin to throng into our memory,
Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire,
And airy tongues that syllable men's names
On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses—
These thoughts may startle well, but not astound."
"I freely offer," says the jocose Dr. Ferriar, "to the manufacturers of ghosts, the privilege of raising them in as great numbers, and in as horrible a guise as they may think fit, without offending against true philosophy, and even without violating probability. The highest flights of imagination may now be indulged on this subject, although no loop-hole should be left for mortifying explanations, and for those modifications of terror which completely baulk the reader's curiosity, and disgust him with a 'second reading.' Another great convenience will be found in my system, apparitions may be evoked in open day, at noon, if the case should be urgent, in the midst of a field, on the surface of water, or in the glare of a patent lamp, quite as easily as in the 'darkness of chaos and old night.' Nay, a person rightly prepared, may see ghosts while seated comfortably by his library fire, in as much perfection as amidst broken tombs, nodding ruins, and awe inspiring ivy."
In a work on the duties of a Justice of the Peace, published, and, we believe, edited by Nelson, we have a proof of the existence of witches and witchcraft, which the learned Theban of an editor seems to have considered impenetrable. "It appears," quoth he, "that there must formerly have been such a crime as witchcraft, because (oh! this brave logician!) divers statutes have been made against it." Were we to adopt a similar style of argument, we might readily enough prove the existence of demoniacal agency in former times, by citing sundry medical cases; in which, by the way, the old German physicians most copiously abounded; where we should see that medicines had been administered for the purpose of expelling the devil from the body, just as we should now proceed to expel the evils of a good feed, undigested turtle, viscid bile, or any other abominable obstruction.
But to be serious: That people of excellent credibility and unimpeachable integrity have seen ghosts or spectres, or whatever they may be termed, is a fact which no one can dispute. The forms of dead and absent persons have been seen, and their voices heard by individuals, whose veracity we have no reason and no right to question. The apparition of the Genius to Brutus, and of the Fury to Dion, are no fables. Both saw them, spoke to them, heard them speak, and were convinced. But we need not ransack ancient history for examples of this illusion. In a very interesting narrative, written by Nicolai, the celebrated printer of Berlin, we have a remarkable instance of spectre-seeing, although he was perfectly aware at the time of the delusion.
"I have myself," he says, "experienced a case of this nature, which to me appears highly remarkable, both psychologically and medically. I saw, in a state of mind completely sound, and after the first terror was over, with perfect calmness, for nearly two months, almost continually and involuntarily, a vast number of human and other forms; I even heard their voices, though I knew all this to be merely the effect of a high degree of nervous irritability, and of a disordered state of the circulation of my blood."
"It being a matter of some importance that the strictest attention should be paid to an incident of this nature, and that it should be related with the most conscientious fidelity, I shall not omit any thing, of which I retain a clear recollection. During the last ten months of the year 1790, I had experienced several melancholy incidents which deeply affected me. September was a sad and sorrowful month to me, for I suffered an almost uninterrupted series of misfortunes, that afflicted me with the most poignant grief. In the January and February following, I had the additional misfortune to experience several extremely unpleasant circumstances, which ended on the 24th of February in a most violent altercation. My wife and a friend came into my room in the morning to console me, but I was too much agitated by a series of incidents, which had most powerfully affected my moral feeling, to be capable of attending to them. Suddenly, I perceived, at about the distance of ten steps from me, a form, resembling that of a deceased person; and, pointing at it, I asked my wife if she did not see it? My wife, who, of course, saw nothing of the kind, felt very much alarmed, and sent immediately for a physician; who came and ascribed the apparition, which lasted about eight minutes, to violent mental emotion; and hoped, as I was then more composed, there would be no return. But this dreadful agitation of my mind had so disordered my nerves, that it produced farther consequences, which deserve a more minute description.
"At four in the afternoon, the form which I had seen in the morning reappeared. I was alone when this happened, and being rather uneasy at the incident, went to my wife's apartment; but there, likewise, I was haunted by the apparition; which appeared, as it had done before, in a standing posture. About six o'clock there appeared, also, several walking figures, which had no connexion with the first.
"After the first day the form of the deceased person no more appeared, but in its place, there appeared many other phantasms, sometimes representing acquaintances, but more commonly strangers. Those whom I knew were composed of living and dead persons, but the number of the latter was comparatively small. I remarked that the persons with whom I daily conversed did not appear as phantasms, these representing persons who lived at some distance from me. I attempted to produce at pleasure the appearance of persons whom I knew, by intensely reflecting on their features, forms, dress, &c. But, distinctly as I called to my imagination the respective resemblances of three of these individuals, I could not succeed in making them appear to me as phantasms, although I had before involuntarily seen them in that manner, and perceived them some time after, when I least thought of them. The phantoms appeared to me contrary to my inclination, as if they were presented to me from without, like the phenomena of external nature, although, in reality, they existed only in my own mind. I could readily distinguish between phantoms and real, tangible objects; and the calmness with which I examined them, enabled me to avoid the commission of the slightest mistake. I knew exactly the difference between the opening of the door and the entrance of a phantom, and the same thing and the entrance of a real person.
"The phantoms appeared equally clear and distinct at all times and under all circumstances, both when I was alone and when I was in company; as well in the day as at night; in my own house as well as abroad; they were, however, less frequent when I was in the house of a friend, and seldom appeared to me in the street. When I closed my eyes they would sometimes totally disappear, although I occasionally beheld them when I shut my eyes; yet when they disappeared on such occasions, they were generally visible again when I opened my eyes. I usually saw human forms of both sexes; but they generally appeared not to take the slightest notice of each other, moving as in a market-place, where all are eager to press through the crowd ; at times, however, they seemed to be transacting business with each other. I also saw several times, people on horseback, dogs, and birds. All these phantoms appeared to me in their natural size, and as distinct and perfect as if alive, exhibiting different shades of carnation in the uncovered parts; as well as different colours and fashions in their dresses, though the colours seemed somewhat paler than in real nature. None of the figures appeared particularly terrible, grotesque, or disgusting; most of them being of an indifferent shape, and some having even a pleasing aspect."
It is very evident that this extraordinary delusion was dependent altogether upon indigestion, occurring in a frame irritated, unstrung, and rendered morbidly sensitive by a distressing degree of nervous irritability. It was a curious fact, that these phantoms were more particularly gamesome and intrusive at the time that the food remained in the stomach undigested, and unacted upon by the peculiar functions of that organ; as soon as digestion commenced they began to disappear, and when the function was completed, they had totally vanished. It was a fortunate circumstance for Nicolai that he was a man of strong nerves and of enlarged information; had he not been so, he must have been irrecoverably maddened by these spectral visitants. His own remarks on such cases are admirable:—
"Those who pretend to have seen and heard ghosts, obstinately maintain, that they perceived these apparitions by the usual agency of their senses. In order to defeat that belief, we generally desire them to consider how many people have been imposed upon by artful novices, and how liable we are to deceive ourselves. We advise them to lay hold of the supposed spectres, assuring them that they are generally found to be of a very corporeal nature. But those who have a predilection for the miraculous, pay no attention to these objections; insisting that the productions of their morbid imaginations are real beings. We cannot, therefore, collect too many of such well substantiated facts, as shew how easily our imagination imposes on us erroneous notions, and deludes not only delirious persons, but even those who are in full possession of their faculties, by causing them to see phantasms, which can scarcely be distinguished from real appearances."
Then follows the narration we have quoted, with these sensible observations: "I cannot assign any other cause for these illusions, then a continued rumination on the vexations I had suffered, which, I could not forget, and the consequence of which I meditated to counteract. These meditations always occupied my mind three hours after dinner, just when my digestion commenced. . . . . All that 1 could infer was, that while my nervous system was in such an irregular and irritable state, the phantasms would appear to me as if I actually saw and heard them; that these illusions were not modified by any known laws of reason, imagination, or the common association of ideas, and that, probably, other people, who may have seen similar apparitions, were exactly in the same predicament."
The patient was right with regard to the cause of these capricious visitors; for as his nervous irritability subsided, their visits became less frequent, until they were wholly discontinued; not, perhaps, without some degree of regret on the part of the recovering hypochondriac, for he tells us, "At different times there appeared to me both dear and sensible friends of both sexes, whose addresses tended to appease my grief. These consolatory speeches were in general addressed to me when I was alone, and most needed them; sometimes I was accosted by these consoling friends while in company, and frequently while real persons were speaking to me. These addresses consisted sometimes of abrupt but impressive phrases, and at others they were regularly and eloquently connected." We can readily believe that these addresses were, indeed, "consolatory." Let us picture to ourselves a man of a quick, irritable, sensitive disposition—a true specimen of the genus irritabile, plunged in grief and anger at the base ill usage and ingratitude, real or imaginary, of an unfeeling world: let us imagine such a person shutting himself in his own chamber, disgusted, and sorrowful, smarting moreover under the sharp sting of his assumed wrongs, calling to his aid, with the air and solemnity of an enchanter, his attendant genii, and receiving from them that sympathy and consolation which every one else withholds. Such was Nicolai's case, who, conscious though he was of the delusion and its cause, must, nevertheless, have yielded somewhat to the strange and vivid impression of the moment.
But a more palpable physical cause has produced an effect equally extraordinary. Persons subject to gout have experienced these strange hallucinations, particularly in that form of the disease which the learned called recedent. Although generally a disease of the joints of the extremities, gout has occasionally attacked the stomach, and the brain; and in the latter case violent pains have been produced, which have been followed by the most vivid and painful ideas. To these symptoms spectral illusions have sometimes supervened, as in the following case, recorded by Dr. Alderson:—
"I was called to visit Mrs. B., a fine old lady, about eighty years of age, whom I have frequently visited in fits of the gout. At a period when, from her general feelings, she rather expected the gout, she was seized with an unusual deafness, and great distention in the organs of digestion. From this time she was visited by several of her friends, whom she had not invited, and whom she at first so far considered as actually present, that she told them she was very sorry she could not hear them speak, nor keep up conversation with them; she would, therefore, order the card-table, and rang the bell for that purpose. Upon the entrance of the servant, the whole party disappeared: she could not help expressing her surprise to her maid that they should all go away so abruptly, but she could scarcely believe her when she told her there had been nobody in the room. She was so ashamed, that she suffered for many days and nights together, the intrusion of a variety of phantoms, and had some of her finest feelings wrought upon by the exhibition of friends long lost, and who only came to cheat her fancy, and revive sensations that time had almost obliterated. She determined, however, for a long time not to complain, and contented herself with merely ringing her bell, finding that she could always get rid of the phantoms by the entrance of her maid, whenever they became distressing. It was not till some time after that she could bring herself to relate her distresses to me. She was all this time concerned of her own rationality, and so were those friends who really visited her; for they never could find any one circumstance in her conduct and conversation to lead them to suspect her in the smallest degree deranged, though unwell. This complaint was entirely removed by cataplasms to the feet and gentle purgatives, and terminated a short time afterwards in a regular slight fit of the gout. She has remained ever since, now somewhat more than a year, in the perfect enjoyment of her health and faculties."
From these examples—and we could adduce many others—we are led to infer that the production of spectral illusions is necessarily connected with certain affections of the body, caused by some derangement of the nervous or circulating system. Of such affections Reginald Scot, the resolute opposer of witchcraft and demonology, has well remarked, that—
"Though they appear in the mind of man, yet they are in the bodie, and proceed from this humour, which is the very dregs of blood, nourishing and feeding these places; from whence proceed fears, cogitations, superstitions, fastings, labours, and such like. This maketh sufferance of torments, and (as some saie,) foresight of things to come."
Jerome Cardan, the most wholesale visionary that ever existed, began early in life to see strange sights. Before he left his bed in the morning he saw a succession of figures, composed of brazen rings, like links of mail, (though he had never seen mail armour at that time,) moving in a circular direction upwards, from the left to the right, till they disappeared. This was but the prelude to more extensive and more magnificent visions. "Videbam ego imagines diversas quasi areium, demonum, animalium, equorum cum equitibus, herbarum, arborum, instrumentorum musicorum, hominum diversorum habituum vestiumque variarum, tubicines præcipuè cum tubis quasi sonantibus, nulla tamen vox aut sonus exaudiebatur: preterea milites, populos, arva, formasque corporum usque ad hunc diem mihi invisas: lucos et sylvas, aliaque quorum non memini, quandoque multarum rerum congeriem simul irruentium, non tamen ut se confunderunt sed ut properarent. Erant autem perspicua illa, sed non ita ut proinde esset, ac si non adessent, nec densa ut oculo pervia non essent."[2]
These "phantasms," as Nicolai calls them, were common to other geniuses beside Cardan. Ben Jonson was gifted with similar spectral powers. In the "Heads of Conversation," published by the executors of Drummond of Hawthornden, Jonson "is made to have told his friend, that—
"When the King came to England, about the time that the plague was in London, he being in the country at Sir Robert Cotton's house with old Camden, he saw, in a vision, his eldest son, then a young child and at London, appear unto him with the mark of a bloody cross on his forehead, as if it had been cut with a sword; at which being sore amazed, he prayed unto God, and in the morning he came into Mr. Camden's chamber to tell him, who persuaded him it was but an apprehension, at which he should not be dejected. In the mean time there came letters from his wife of the death of that boy in the plague. He appeared to him of a manly shape, and of that growth he thinks he shall be at the resurrection."
This by itself would have been somewhat marvellous, although to be accounted for by the anxiety which the poet must have felt for his son, exposed as he was to that desolating disease, the plague; and the coincidence of his death was certainly remarkable. But the poet was extremely excursive and somewhat extravagant in his visions, for he "spent a whole night in looking to his great toe, about which he saw Tartars and Turks, Romans and Carthaginians, fighting most manfully."[3]
It would really be a most interesting pursuit to follow up this subject; and to show how that peculiar temperament, which constitutes the highest grade of sensibility and genius contributes, to render its possessors so susceptible of these curious impressions. It was this temperament, excited by an accidental circumstance, that produced the well-known vision of Dr. Donne; who, while he was residing at Paris, saw the figure of his wife, then in London, pass through the room, with her hair dishevelled, and carrying a dead child in her arms. The poem which he wrote, previously to their separation, will afford a sufficient clue for the appearance of such a vision.
It is under circumstances similar to these that the "Scottish Second Sight" is produced. Much has been written about this very extraordinary quality; and many proofs of its effect have been adduced. The following instances, related by Dr. Ferriar, in his interesting little work on Apparitions, are so well authenticated, and so striking, that we shall narrate them in his own words:—
"A gentleman connected with my family, an officer in the army, and certainly addicted to no superstition, was quartered early in life in the middle of the last century, near the castle of a gentleman in the north of Scotland, who was supposed to possess the second sight. Strange rumours were afloat respecting the old chieftain. He had spoken to an apparition which ran along the battlements of the house, and had never been cheerful afterwards. His prophetic visions excited surprise, even in that region of credulity; and his retired habits favoured the popular opinion. My friend assured me, that one day, while he was reading a play to the ladies of the family, the Chief, who had been walking across the room, stopped suddenly, and assumed the look of a seer. He rang the bell, and ordered the groom to saddle a horse; to proceed immediately to a seat in the neighbourhood, and to inquire after the health of Lady —. If the account was favourable, he then directed him to call at another castle, and to ask after another lady whom he named.
"The reader immediately closed his book, and declared that he would not proceed till these abrupt orders were explained, as he was confident that they were produced by the second sight. The Chief was very unwilling to explain himself, but at length he owned that the door had opened, and that a little woman without a head had entered the room; that the apparition indicated the sudden death of some person of his acquaintance; and the only two persons who resembled the figure, were those ladies after whose health he had sent to inquire. A few hours afterwards the servant returned, with an account that one of the ladies had died of an apoplectic fit, about the time when the vision appeared."
"At another time the Chief was confined to his bed by indisposition, and my friend was reading to him, on a stormy winter night, while the fishing boat belonging to the castle was at sea. The old gentleman repeatedly expressed much anxiety respecting his people, and at last exclaimed, "My boat is lost!" The colonel replied, "How do you know it, sir?" He answered, "I see two of the boatmen bringing in the third, drowned, all dripping wet, and laying him down close beside your chair." The chair was shifted with great precipitation. In the course of the night the fishermen returned with the corpse of one of the boatmen."
These death-tokens are very curious, but they may be physically accounted for by the great and intense anxiety of the seers, directed in most instances towards the objects whose dissolution is portended. But, connected with this subject "there are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in our philosophy."
In a wild and retired district in North Wales, that namely which extends from Dolgelly westward to Barmouth and Towyn, where there is certainly as much superstition as in any other district of the same extent, and where there are many individuals who lay claim to the title and capabilities of seers, the following occurrence took place, to the great astonishment of the mountaineers. We can vouch for the truth of the statement, as many members of our own teulu, or clan, were witnesses of the fact. On a dark evening, a few winters ago, some persons with whom we are well acquainted, were returning to Barmouth on the south or opposite side of the river. As they approached the ferry-house at Penthryn, which is directly opposite Barmouth, they observed a light near the house, which they conjectured to be produced by a bonfire, and greatly puzzled they were to discover the reason why it should have been lighted. As they came nearer, however, it vanished, and when they inquired at the house respecting it, they were surprised to learn that not only had the people there displayed no light, but they had not even seen one; nor could they perceive any signs of it on the sands. On reaching Barmouth, the circumstance was mentioned, and the fact corroborated by some of the people there, who had also plainly and distinctly seen the light. It was settled, therefore, by some of the old fishermen, that this was a "death-token," and, sure enough, the man who kept the ferry at that time, was drowned at highwater a few nights afterwards, on the very spot where the light was seen. He was landing from the boat, when he fell into the water, and so perished.
The same winter the Barmouth people, as well as the inhabitants of the opposite banks, were struck by the appearance of a number of small lights, which were seen dancing in the air at a place called Borthwyn, about half a mile from the town. A great number of people came out to see these lights; and, after a while, they all but one disappeared, and this one proceeded slowly towards the water's edge, to a little bay where some boats were moored. The men in a sloop which was anchored near the spot, saw the light advancing—they saw it also hover for a few seconds over one particular boat, and then totally disappear. Two or three days afterwards, the man to whom that particular boat belonged, was drowned in the river, while he was sailing about Barmouth harbour in that very boat. We have narrated these facts just as they occurred: we must leave the solution of the mystery to the ingenuity of our readers.
Considering this as a digression, we return to the spectral illusions; and there can be no difficulty in attributing them to a particular physical condition of the brain, which may be termed a disease, and called Hallucinatio. The physician well knows, that, in certain diseases of the brain, such as insanity, and even simple delirium, spectral illusions occur, and continue, as in Nicolai's case, for many days. It is true that Nicolai was neither mad nor delirious; but his brain was, nevertheless, deranged, and excited by his misfortunes, and thus were engendered those visions which haunted him so long. In all nervous maladies the brain must be more or less affected; and it is curious to observe what a strange confusion of ideas and perception occurs in such cases. The senses either lose their powers altogether, or, so distort and alter impressions, as to create the most extraordinary perplexity. Persons have imagined themselves converted into stones and statues—into glass or china ornaments, and have been afraid of moving, lest they should be dashed to pieces by any unlucky fall, or an unfortunate collision. Some patients have conceived themselves so hugely enlarged in bulk, as to be unable to enter a room, or a carriage, or a gate; while others, carrying about with them an immense "mountain of flesh," have fancied themselves as lean as the "living skeleton." But all these illusions, as well as others too numerous to mention, arise, of course, from physical causes, and may be traced to some derangement of the brain, changing, disordering, and reversing the action of the external senses.
In addition to this explanation of the appearance of apparitions, it has frequently occurred that the mind has magnified or distorted harmless and even inanimate objects, into the most horrible spectres. Fear and terror are wonderfully creative, and the scathed and withered branches of an old tree have caused more alarm and consternation than a band of robbers, or a legion of warlike plunderers. This species of spectres carries with it its own detection; but, with regard to the more abstruse illusions, ¢heir origin may be always discovered by a calm, candid, and careful examination. We might have extended our illustrations to a greater length, but our limits forbid us to indulge in the exposition; and we have already said sufficient, perhaps, to induce the reflecting reader to "ponder upon our words and be wise."
1. It is not, perhaps, known to every one that a firm of fortune-tellers, under this title, exercises its honourable vocation in the vicinity of Blackfriars Bridge. The fee is two shillings and sixpence, and many a buxom civic dame has visited the laboratory of these dealers in destinies.
2. Cardanus de Vitâ Propriâ, cap. 37.
3. Drummond's Works, p. 224. fol. ed.