A Spirit who does not believe himself dead.

— One of our subscribers from the department of the Loiret, an excellent writing medium, writes to us the following, regarding several apparitions he witnessed:

“Not wishing to leave in oblivion any of the facts that come to support the Spiritist Doctrine, I come to communicate the new phenomena of which I am witness and medium and which, as you will recognize, agree perfectly with all that you have published in your Review, regarding the various states of the Spirit after it separates from the body.

“About six months ago I was occupied with Spiritist communications with several persons, when the idea came to me to ask whether, among those present, there was a seeing medium. The Spirit answered affirmatively, designated me, and added: “You already are one, but to a small degree and only during sleep; later your temperament will be modified in such a way that you will become an excellent seeing medium, but little by little and, at first, only during sleep.”

“In the course of this year we experienced the sorrow of losing three of our relatives. One of them, who was my uncle, appeared to me in a dream some time after his death; we had a long conversation and he led me to the place he inhabits, telling me that it was the last degree leading to the mansion of eternal happiness. It was my intention to give you the description of what I admired in that incomparable abode, but having consulted my familiar Spirit about it, he answered me: “The joy and the happiness you experienced could influence the description of the marvelous beauties you admired, and your imagination could create nonexistent things. Wait until your Spirit is calmer.” I stop, then, in obedience to my guide, occupying myself only with two other more positive visions. I shall relate only the last words of my uncle. After having admired what I was permitted to see, he said to me: “Now you are going to return to Earth.” I begged him to grant me a few more moments and he answered: “No; it is five o’clock and you must resume the course of your existence.” At that very instant I awoke, at the sound of my clock striking five o’clock. “My second vision was of one of the two other relatives who died during the year. He was a virtuous man, amiable, a good father of a family, a good Christian and, although ill for a very long time, he died almost suddenly and perhaps at the moment when he least expected it. His countenance had an indefinable expression, serious, sad and, at the same time, happy. He said to me: “I expiate my faults; I have, however, one consolation: that of being the protector of my family. I continue to live near my wife and my children and I inspire good thoughts in them. Pray for me.”

“The third vision is more characteristic and was confirmed to me by a material fact: it is that of the third relative. He was an excellent man, although lively, hot-tempered, imperious with the servants and, above all, immoderately attached to the goods of this world. Besides being a skeptic, he occupied himself with this life more than with the future life. Some time after his death he came at night and set about shaking the curtains with impatience, as if to awaken me. When I asked him whether it was really he, he answered me: “Yes; I came to seek you because you are the only person who can answer me. My wife and my son have left for Orléans; I wished to accompany them, but no one will obey me. I told Pierre to pack my trunks, but he does not listen to me. No one pays me any attention. If you could come hitch the horses to the other carriage and arrange my equipage, you would render me a great service, for I could go join my wife in Orléans.” — But can you not do it yourself? — “No. I cannot lift anything. After the sleep I experienced during the illness, I am completely changed; I no longer know where I am. I have nightmares.” — Where do you come from? — “From B…” — From the castle? — “No!”, he answered me with a cry of horror, raising his hand to his brow; “I come from the cemetery!” — After a gesture of despair, he added: — “Look, my dear friend, tell all my relatives to pray for me, because I am very unhappy.” — At these words he fled and I lost sight of him. When he came to seek me and shake the curtains with impatience, his face expressed terrible hallucination. When I asked him how he had been able to shake the curtains, he who told me he could lift nothing, he answered me abruptly: “With my breath!” “The next day I learned that his widow and his son had indeed left for Orléans.”

— This last apparition is remarkable, for the illusion that leads certain Spirits to believe themselves still alive and, above all, because in the present case this illusion was prolonged for much longer than in analogous cases. Very commonly it lasts only a few days, whereas he did not judge himself dead despite more than three months having already elapsed since his passing. Moreover, the situation is perfectly identical to the one we have observed many times. He sees everything as if he were alive; he wishes to speak and is surprised at not being heard. He occupies himself, or believes he occupies himself, with his habitual tasks. The existence of the perispirit is here demonstrated in an admirable manner, leaving aside the vision. Since he sees himself alive, it is because he sees a body similar to the one he left; this body acts as the other would have acted; for him nothing seems to have changed: only he has not yet studied the properties of his new body. He judges it dense and material like the first, and is astonished, because he can lift nothing. Nevertheless, in his situation he perceives something strange, which he does not understand. He supposes himself dominated by a nightmare; he takes death for a sleep: it is a mixed state between corporeal life and Spirit life, a state always painful and full of anxiety, and which has a little of both lives. As we have said elsewhere, this is what occurs in a more or less constant manner in instantaneous deaths, such as those that occur through suicide, apoplexy, execution, combat, etc. We know that the separation between the body and the perispirit operates gradually and not abruptly; it begins before death, when this supervenes through the natural extinction of the vital forces, whether through age or through illness, above all in persons who in life foresee their end and in thought identify themselves with the future existence, in such a way that, on exhaling the last breath, the separation is more or less complete. When death surprises a body full of life, the separation does not begin until that moment, to finish little by little. As long as a link exists between the body and the Spirit, the latter will be disturbed and, should it enter abruptly into the world of Spirits, it will experience a shock that will not permit it to recognize immediately its situation, as well as the properties of its new body. It is necessary to make trials in some manner, and it is this that makes it think it still belongs to this world.

Besides the circumstances of violent death, there are others that make the ties between the body and the Spirit more tenacious, because the illusion of which we speak is observed equally in certain cases of natural death: it is when the individual lived the material life more than the moral life. It is conceivable that his attachment to matter retains him still after death, thus prolonging the idea that nothing has changed for him. Such is the case of the person of whom we have just spoken.

Let us note the difference existing between the situation of this individual and that of the second relative: one still wishes to command; he judges that he needs his trunks, his horses, his carriage, to go meet his wife; he does not yet know that, as a Spirit, he can do it instantaneously or, better said, his perispirit is still so material that he judges himself subject to all the necessities of the body. The other, who lived the moral life, who had religious sentiments, who identified himself with the future life, although surprised in a more unexpected manner than the first, is already detached: he says that he lives in the midst of the family, but he knows that he is a Spirit; he speaks to his wife and to his children, but he knows that he does it through thought. In a word, he no longer has illusions, whereas the other is still disturbed and anguished. He possesses the sentiment of real life to such a degree that he saw the wife and the son who were leaving, as they really did leave on the indicated day, a fact unknown to the relative to whom he appeared. Let us note, moreover, a very characteristic expression on his part, which well describes his position. To the question: “Where do you come from?” he answered at first with the name of the place he inhabited; then, to this other question: “From the castle?” No! I come from the cemetery — he answered with terror. Now, this proves one thing: that the detachment not being complete, a kind of attraction still existed between the Spirit and the body, which led him to say that he came from the cemetery. But at that moment it seems that he began to understand the truth. The question itself seems to set him on the path, calling his attention to his remains. This is why he pronounced the word cemetery with terror.

Examples of this nature are very numerous. One of the most admirable is that of the suicide of the Samaritaine, which we related in our issue of June 1858. Evoked several days after his death, this man also affirmed that he was still alive, although he said: “Meanwhile, I feel the worms gnawing at me.” As we made it observed in our account, it was not a matter of a remembrance, since in life he was not gnawed by worms. It was, then, a present sentiment, a kind of repercussion, transmitted from the body to the Spirit by the fluidic communication still existing between the two. This communication is not always translated in the same manner, but it is always more or less painful, as if it were a first punishment for the one who in life identified himself too much with matter.

What a difference from the calm, the serenity, the sweet quietude of those who die without remorse, with the consciousness of having well employed their time of sojourn on Earth, of those who did not let themselves be dominated by the passions! The passage is short and without bitterness; death, for them, is the return from exile to the true homeland. Is there in this a theory, a system? No; it is the picture that our communications from beyond the tomb offer us every day, a picture whose aspects vary to infinity, and where each one can gather a useful teaching, because he finds examples that he will be able to profit from, should he take the trouble to consult them. It is a mirror in which everyone can recognize himself who is not blinded by pride.