This section is from the book "A History Of Dreams, Visions, Apparitions, Ecstasy, Magnetism, And Somnambulism", by A. Brierre De Boismont. Also available from Amazon: History of Dreams, Visions, Apparitions, Ecstasy, Magnetism and Somnambulism.
The first wife of Charles Lee died in giving birth to a little girl. Lady Everard, a sister of the deceased, undertook to bring up and educate the child, a task which she faithfully performed. The young lady having arrived at a marriageable age, was betrothed to Sir William Perkins, but the marriage was blighted by a most extraordinary circumstance. One night, Miss Lee observed a light in her chamber; she immediately called to a servant, and inquired why she had left a lamp burning. The servant replied that there was no other light in the room than the one she had just brought; that the fire was entirely out, and probably her young mistress had been dreaming. Persuaded that such was the case, she again went to sleep. Towards two in the morning, she awoke, and saw a little woman, who told her that she was her mother; that she was destined to happiness, and that she would visit her again the same day at noon. Miss Lee again called her servant, whom she desired to assist in dressing her, and passed into her boudoir. There she remained until nine o'clock, bringing out with her a sealed letter for her father. This she gave to her aunt, Lady Everard, related what had occurred, and requested her, when she was dead, to give the letter as it was addressed. The aunt, imagining her niece to have suddenly gone mad, sent off instantly to Chelmsford for a physician and a surgeon, who hastened to attend. They could not discover any signs of mental alienation; but Lady Everard, nevertheless, desired that her niece should be bled. The young lady having allowed them to act as they thought fit, requested that the chaplain might be sent for to recite prayers; on the conclusion of which, she took her guitar and book of psalms, and played and sang with such perfect melody, that her music-master, who was present, was both astonished and delighted.
Towards noon, she arose, desired to be placed in a large arm-chair, and heaving one or two sighs, expired. She grew cold so rapidly that the surgeon and physician were astonished. She died at Waltham, in the county of Essex, three miles from
Chelmsford. The letter was sent to Sir Charles, in the county of Warwick; but he was so grieved at the distressing event, that he did not arrive until after the funeral. He had the body exhumed and placed by the side of his wife, at Edmonton, according to the request of his daughter.*
This case appears to us to be very readily explained; imagination, in an impressible young girl, would be much over-excited as the fatal hour approached. The exaltation of the nervous system, in an organization probably delicate, was raised to so high a pitch that vital force was exhausted. As to the revelation, sensible minds will see but a fortunate coincidence, without which, the history would never probably have found a recorder.
In the mountains of Scotland, and in some parts of Germany, a belief still exists in the reality of a wonderful apparition which appears, it is said, as the presage of an approaching death. The person under the hallucination sees another self, a figure in every respect similar in form, feature, action, and dress. We have already mentioned this phenomenon, which the Germans call Deuteroscopie.†
In a very clever recent publication, we find an anecdote relative to the famous Buckingham. Three times did Sir George Villiers, father of the duke, appear to an officer of the wardrobe, to warn him of the fate that threatened his son. But this officer was too low in rank to acquit himself conveniently of his mission, and neglected to make the warning known until the third appearance; he then applied to a gentleman with whom he was on intimate terms, Sir Ralph Freeman, Master of the Requests, and persuaded him to demand an audience of his Grace, in which, if granted, he promised to reveal matters of the highest importance. The officer entered into the minutest details, which had been communicated by the spirit, to prove to the duke that he was no impostor; and it was noticed that he (the duke) was very melancholy after the interview. But of what use was the warning? To create a vague uneasiness about a danger, against which it was impossible to guard, since the warning was too mysterious to enable the duke to take suitable precautions.‡
* Hibbert, op, cit.
‡ Walter Scott. A Legend of Montrose, ch. xvii. note Wraiths.
‡ George Brodie, Esq., History of the British Empire, vol. xi.
 
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