This story is not so painful as the one entitled "What Uncle Saw." How we wish that uncle had seen something else, but all the same how glad we are that uncle did not see what the professor saw. The professor is an M.A. of the University of Calcutta, in Chemistry, and is a Lecturer in a big college. This, of course, I only mention to show that this is not the invention of a foolish person.
I shall now tell the story as I heard it from the professor.
"I was a professor of chemistry in a Calcutta college in the year 18—. One morning I received a letter from home informing me that my eldest brother was ill. It was a case of fever due to cold. Of course, a man does sometimes catch cold and get fever too. There was nothing extraordinary about that.
"In the evening I did not receive any further news. This meant that my brother was better, because in any other case they would have written.
"A number of friends came to my diggings in the evening and invited me to join their party then going to a theatre. They had reserved some seat but one of the party for whom a seat had been reserved was unavoidably detained and hence a vacant seat. The news of my brother's illness had made me a little sad, the theatre, I thought, would cheer me up. So I joined.
"We left the theatre at about one in the morning. Coming to my house along the now deserted but well-lighted "College Street" of Calcutta I saw from a distance a tall man walking to and fro on the pavement in front of the Senate Hall. When I approached nearer I found that it was my brother of whose illness I had heard in the morning. I was surprised.
"'What are you doing here—brother.' I asked.
"'I came to tell you something.'
"'But you were ill—I heard this morning—by what train did you come?' I asked.
"'I did not come by train—never mind—I went to your "Basa" (lodgings) and found you were out—gone to the theatre, so I waited for you here as I thought you would prefer walking home instead of taking a hackney carriage—'
"'Very fortunate I did not take one—'
"'In that case I would have seen you at your quarters.'
"'Then come along with me—' I said.
"'No' he said 'I shall stay where I am—what I have come to tell you is this, that after I am gone you will take care of the mother and see that she has everything she wants—'
"'But where are you going—' I asked puzzled.
"'Never mind where I am going—but will you promise—'
"'Promise what—?' I asked.
"'That you will see that the mother has everything she wants.'
"'Certainly—but where on earth are you going—' I asked again.
"'I can depend upon your promise then' he said and vanished.
"He vanished mysteriously. In what direction he went I could not say. There was no bye-lane near. It was a very well-lighted part of the city. He vanished into the thin air. I rubbed my eyes and looked round.
"A policeman was coming along. He was about 50 feet away.
"I inquired him if he had seen the gentleman who was talking to me.
"'Did you see the other gentleman, officer?' I asked.
"'Yes' he said looking around 'there were two of you—where is the other—has he robbed you of all you had—these pickpockets have a mysterious way of disappearing—'
"'He was my brother' I said 'and no pickpocket.'
"The policeman looked puzzled too.
"I shouted aloud calling my brother by name but received no reply. I took out my gold watch. It was half past one. I walked home at a brisk pace.
"At home I was informed by the servant that my brother had come to look for me an hour ago but on being informed that I was out, had gone away.
"Whenever he came to Calcutta from the suburbs he put up with a friend of his instead of with me. So I decided to look him up at his friend's house in the morning. But I was not destined to carry out that plan.
"Early the next morning I received a telegram that my brother was dead. The telegram had been sent at 1.20 a.m. He must have died an hour before. Well—there it was.
"I had seen him and so had the policeman. The servant had seen him too. There could be no mistake about that.
"I took an early train and reached my suburban home at 10 a.m. I was informed that my brother had died at midnight. But I had seen him at about half past one and the servant had seen him at about 12.30. I did not tell anybody anything at that time. But I did so afterwards. I was not dreaming—because the conversation we had was a pretty long one. The servant and the police constable could not have been mistaken either. But the mystery remains."
This was the exact story of the professor. Here is something else to the point.
Suicidal Telepathy.
A remarkable case of what may be called suicidal telepathy has occurred near Geneva. Mme. Simon, a Swiss widow aged fifty, had been greatly distressed on account of the removal of her sister, who was five years younger, to a hospital. On Monday afternoon a number of persons who had ascended the Saleve, 4299 feet high, by the funicular railway, were horrified to see a woman walk out on to a ledge overlooking a sheer precipice of three hundred feet, and, after carefully wrapping a shawl round her head and face jump into space. The woman was Mme. Simon, says the Times of India, and she was found on the cliffs below in a mangled condition.
At the same time Mme. Simon's sister, who had not seen or communicated with the former for a week, became hysterical saying her sister was dead and that she did not want to survive her. During the temporary absence of the nurse the woman got out of her bed—opened the window and jumped into the road from the first floor. She is seriously injured and her recovery is doubtful.
The news of the death of Mme. Simon was only known at the hospital nine hours later.
The Leader—Allahabad, 12th February 1913.
Much more wonderful than all this is the story of "The Astral Lady" which appeared in one of the English Magazines a few months ago. In that case an English medical gentleman saw the Astral Lady in a first class railway compartment in England. Only accidentally he discovered the body of a lady nearly murdered and concealed under one of the seats. His medical help and artificial respiration and stimulants brought her round, and then the doctor saw the original of the Astral Lady in the recovered girl. Well—well—wonderful things do happen sometimes.
The phenomenon mentioned in this chapter as the professor's experience is not new. Mr. Justice Norman of the Calcutta High Court saw his mother while sitting in court one day and others saw her too. A few hours later his Lordship received a telegram informing him of her death at the moment when he had seen her in court. This was in broad daylight. Unlike the professor the judge did not even know that his mother was ill.
The fact that immediately after death the dead person appears to some one near and dear to him has been vouched for by others whose veracity and intelligence cannot be questioned.
The appearance of Miss Orme after her death at Mussoorie to Miss Mounce-Stephen in Lucknow was related in the Allahabad High Court during the trial of the latter lady for the murder of the former. This is on the record of the case. This case created a good deal of interest at the time.
Similar to what has been described above is the experience of Lord Brougham.
An extract from his memoirs is as follows:—"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.e. Edinburgh) I went with G—— my most intimate friend, to attend the classes of 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 subjects 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 the 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 in the Civil Service there. He seldom wrote to me and after the lapse of a few years, I had nearly forgotten his existence. One day I had taken a warm bath, and, while lying in it enjoying 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. The 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 forgotten easily, and so strongly was I affected by it that I have here written down the whole history with the date, 19th December, and all particulars as they are fresh before me now. No doubt I had fallen asleep and that the appearance presented so distinctly before my eyes was a dream I cannot doubt, yet for years I had no communication with G—nor had there been anything to recall him to my recollection. Nothing had taken place concerning our Swedish travel 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 his appearance to me was to be received by me as a proof of a future state."
This was on the 19th December 1799.
In October 1862 Lord Brougham added 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 60 years ago. Soon after my return to Edinburgh there arrived a letter from India announcing G's death, and that he died on the 19th December 1799."—The Pall Mall Magazine (1914) pp. 183-184.
Another very fine story and one to the point comes from Hyderabad.
A certain Mr. J—— who was an Englishman, after reading the memoirs of Lord Brougham, was so affected that he related the whole story to his confidential Indian servant. We need not mention here what Mr. J's profession was, all that we need say is that he was not very rich and in his profession there was no chance of his getting up one morning to find himself a millionaire.
The master and servant executed a bond written with their blood that he who died first would see the other a rich man.
As it happened the native servant died first, and on his death Mr. J—— who was then a young man retired altogether from his business, which business was not in a very flourishing condition. Within a couple of years he went to England a millionaire. How he came by his money remains a secret. People in England were told that he had earned it in India. He must have done so, but the process of his earning he has kept strictly to himself. Mr. J—— is still alive and quite hale.
A different event in which another friend of mine was concerned was thus described the other day. He had received a telegram to the effect that a very near relation of his was dying in Calcutta and that this dying person was desirous to see him. He started for Calcutta in all haste by the mail. The mail used to leave his station at about 3 P.M. in the afternoon and reach Calcutta early the next morning. It was hot weather and in his first class compartment there was no other passenger. He lay down on one of the sleeping berths and the other one was empty. All the lamps including the night light had been switched off and the compartment was in total darkness, but for the moonlight. The moon beams too did not come into the compartment itself as the moon was nearly overhead.
He had fallen into a disturbed sleep when on waking up he found there was another occupant of the compartment. As thefts had been a common incident on the line specially in first class compartments, my friend switched on the electric light, the button of which was within his reach. This could be done without getting up.
In the glare of the electric light he saw distinctly his dying relation. He thought he was dreaming. He rubbed his eyes and then looked again. The apparition had vanished. He got up and looked out of the window. The train was passing through a station, without stopping. He could read the name of the station clearly. He opened his time table to see that he was still 148 miles from Calcutta.
Then he went to sleep again. In the morning he thought he had been dreaming. But he observed that the railway time table was still open at the place where he must have looked to ascertain the distance.
On reaching Calcutta he was told that his relation had died a few hours ago.
My friend never related this to anybody till he knew that I was writing on the subject. This story, however, after what the professor saw loses its interest; and some suggested that it had better not be written at all. I only write this because this friend of mine—who is also a relation of mine—is a big Government servant and would not have told this story unless it was true.
To the point is the following story which was in the papers about March 1914.
'In 1821 the Argyle Rooms were patronised by the best people, the establishment being then noted for high-class musical entertainments. One evening in March, 1821, a young Miss M. with a party of friends, was at a concert in Argyle Rooms. Suddenly she uttered a cry and hid her face in her hands. She appeared to be suffering so acutely that her friends at once left the building with her and took her home. It was at first difficult to get the young lady to explain the cause of her sudden attack, but at last she confessed that she had been terrified by a horrible sight. While the concert was in progress she had happened to look down at the floor, and there lying at her feet she saw the corpse of a man. The body was covered with a cloth mantle, but the face was exposed, and she distinctly recognised the features of a friend, Sir J.T. On the following morning the family of the young lady received a message informing them that Sir J.T. had been drowned the previous day in Southampton Water through the capsizing of a boat, and that when his body was recovered it was entangled in a boat cloak. The story of the Argyle Rooms apparition is told by Mr. Thomas Raikes in his well-known diary, and he personally vouches for the truth of it.'
In this connection the following cutting from an English paper of March, 1914, will be found very interesting and instructive.
'TALKS' WITH Mr. STEAD.
Sir A. Turner's Psychic Experiences.
General Sir Alfred Turner's psychic experiences, which he related to the London Spiritualist Alliance on May 7, in the salon of the Royal Society of British Artists, cover a very wide field, and they date from his early boyhood.
The most interesting and suggestive relate to the re-appearance of Mr. Stead, says the Daily Chronicle. On the Sunday following the sinking of the Titanic, Sir Alfred was visiting a medium when she told him that on the glass of the picture behind his back the head of a man and afterwards 'its' whole form appeared. She described him minutely, and said he was holding a child by the hand. He had no doubt that it was Mr. Stead, and he wrote immediately to Miss Harper, Mr. Stead's private secretary. She replied saying that on the same day she had seen a similar apparition, in which Mr. Stead was holding a child by the hand.
A few days afterwards (continued Sir Alfred) at a private seance the voice of Stead came almost immediately and spoke at length. He told them what had happened in the last minutes of the wreck. All those who were on board when the vessel sank soon passed over, but they had not the slightest notion that they were dead. Stead knew however, and he set to work to try and tell these poor people that they had passed over and that there was at any rate no more physical suffering for them. Shortly afterwards he was joined by other spirits, who took part in the missionary work.
Mr. Stead was asked to show himself to the circle. He said 'Not now, but at Cambridge House.' At the meeting which took place there, not everybody was sympathetic, and the results were poor, except that Mr. Stead came to them in short sharp flashes dressed exactly as he was when on earth.
Since then, said Sir Alfred, he had seen and conversed with Mr. Stead many times. When he had shown himself he had said very little, when he did not appear he said a great deal. On the occasion of his last appearance he said: 'I cannot speak to you. But pursue the truth. It is all truth.'
I am confident, Sir Alfred declared, that Mr. Stead will be of the greatest help to those of us who, on earth, work with him and to others who believe.
