HISTORICAL CASES OF RESTORATION FROM APPARENT DEATH.

From the time of Kornmann, Terilli, and Zacchia (see “Bibliography,” seventeenth century), certain notable instances, from old authors, of restoration from apparent death have been cited, with a good deal of uniformity, in essays or theses on this subject. One of the most convenient (to English readers) of these compilations is to be found in an anonymous essay, “The Uncertainty of the Signs of Death,” Dublin, 1748 (printed by George Faulkner), from which the following extracts are taken verbatim:—

Plutarch informs us that a certain person fell from an eminence, but did not show the least appearance of any wound, for, three days after, he suddenly resumed his strength, and returned to life as his friends were conveying him to the grave.

Asclepiades, a celebrated physician, on his return from his country seat, met a large company conveying a corpse to the grave. A principle of curiosity induced him to ask the name of the deceased person, but grief and sorrow reigned so universally that no one returned him answer; upon which, approaching the corpse, he found the whole of it rubbed over with perfumes, and the mouth moistened with precious balm, according to the custom of the Greeks; then carefully feeling every part, and discovering latent signs of life, he forthwith affirmed that the person was not dead, and the person was saved.—Celsus ii., 6, “De re Medica.”

In the tenth book of Plato’s Republic is related the story of one Er, an Armenian, who was slain in battle. Ten days after, when the surviving soldiers came with a view to inter the dead, they found all the bodies corrupted except his; for which reason they conveyed him to his own house in order to inter him in the usual manner. But two days after, to the great surprise of all present, he returned to life when laid on the funeral pile. Quenstedt remarks upon this case, which he took from Kornmann’s treatise “De Miraculis Mortuorum,” “That the soul sometimes remains in the body when the senses are so fettered, and, as it were, locked up, that it is hard to determine whether a person is dead or alive.” Pliny in his “Natural History,” book vii., chap. 52, which treats of those who have returned to life when they were about to be laid in the grave, tells us that Acilius Aviola, a man of so considerable distinction that he had formerly been honoured with the consulship, returned to life when he was upon the funeral pile; but, as he could not be rescued from the violence of the flames, he was burnt alive. The like misfortune also happened to Lucius Lamia, who had been praetor. These two shocking accidents are also related by Valerius Maximus. Celius Tubero had a happier fate than his two fellow-citizens, since, according to Pliny, he discovered the signs of life before it was too late. His state, however, was far from eligible, since, being laid on the funeral pile, he stood a fair chance of being exposed to the like misfortune. Pliny, from the testimony of Varro, adds that when a distribution of land was making at Capua, a certain man, when carried a considerable way from his own house in order to be interred, returned home on foot. The like surprising accident also happened at Aquinum. The last instance of this nature related by the author occurred at Rome, and Pliny must, no doubt, have been intimately acquainted with all its most minute circumstances, since the person was one Cerfidius, the husband of his mother’s sister, who returned to life after an agreement had been made for his funeral with the undertaker, who was probably much disappointed when he found him alive and in good health.

These examples drawn from Roman history greatly contribute to establish the uncertainty of the signs of death, and ought to render us very cautious with respect to interments.

Greece and Italy are not the only theatres in which such tragical events have been acted, since other countries of Europe also furnish us with instances of a like nature. Thus, Maximilian Misson, in his “Voyage Through Italy,” tome i, letter 5, tells us—

“That the number of persons who have been interred as dead, when they were really alive, is very great in comparison with those who have been happily rescued from their graves; for, in the town of Cologne, Archbishop Geron—according to Albertus KrantzÏus—was interred alive, and died for want of a seasonable releasement.”

It is also certain that in the same town the like misfortune happened to Johannes Duns Scotus, who in his grave tore his hands and wounded his head. Misson also relates the following:—

“Some years ago the wife of one, Mr. Mervache, a goldsmith of Poictiers, being buried with some rings on her fingers, as she had desired when dying, a poor man of the neighbourhood, being apprised of that circumstance, next night opened the grave in order to make himself master of the rings, but as he could not pull them off without some violence, he in the attempt waked the woman, who spoke distinctly, and complained of the injury done her. Upon this, the robber made his escape. The woman, now roused from an apoplectic fit, rose from her coffin, returned to her own house, and in a few days recovered a perfect state of health.”

What induced Misson to relate these histories was a certain piece of painting preserved in the Church of the Holy Apostles at Cologne, in order to keep up the memory of a certain accident, which that traveller relates in the following manner:—

“In the year 1571, the wife of one of the magistrates of Cologne being interred with a valuable ring on one of her fingers, the grave-digger next night opened the grave in order to take it off, but we may readily suppose that he was in no small consternation when the supposed dead body squeezed his hand, and laid fast hold of him, in order to get out of her coffin. The thief, however, disengaging himself, made his escape with all expedition; and the lady, disentangling herself in the best manner she could, went home and knocked at her own door, where, after shivering in her shroud, after some delay she was admitted by the terror-stricken servants; and, being warmed and treated in a proper manner, completely recovered.”

Simon Goubart, in his admirable and memorable histories, printed at Geneva in 1628, relates the following accident:—“A lady, whose name was Reichmuth Adoloh, was supposed to fall a victim to a pestilence, which raged with such impetuous fury as to cut off most of the inhabitants of Cologne. Soon after, however, she not only recovered her health, but also brought into the world three sons, who, in process of time, were advanced to livings in the Church.”

“The town of Dijon, in Burgundy, was, in the year 1558, afflicted with a violent plague, which cut off the inhabitants so fast that there was not time for each dead person to have a separate grave; for which reason large pits were made and filled with as many bodies as they could contain. In this deplorable conjuncture, Mrs. Nicole Tentillet shared the common fate, and after labouring under the disorder for some days, fell into a syncope so profound that she was taken for dead, and accordingly buried in a pit with the other dead bodies. The next morning after her interment she returned to life, and made the strongest efforts to get out, but was held down by the weight of the bodies with which she was covered. She remained in this wretched condition for four days, when the grave-diggers took her out and carried her to her own house, where she recovered perfectly.” Following this case, that of a labouring man of CourÇelles, near NeuchÂtel, is narrated. He fell into so profound syncope that he was taken for dead; but the persons who were putting him into his grave without a coffin, perceived some motion in his shoulders, for which reason they carried him to his own home, where he perfectly recovered. This accident laid the foundation for his being called the ghost of CourÇelles.

“A lawyer of Vesoul, a town of Franche-ComtÉ, near BesanÇon, so carefully concealed a lethargy, to which he was subject, that nobody knew anything of his disorder, though the paroxysms returned very frequently. The motive which principally induced him to this secrecy was the dread of losing a lady to whom he was just about to be married. Being afraid, however, lest some paroxysm should prove fatal to him, he communicated his case to the Sheriff of the town, who, by virtue of his office, was obliged to take care of him if such a misfortune should happen. The marriage was concluded, and the lawyer for a considerable time enjoyed a perfect state of health, but at last was seized with so violent a paroxysm of the disease that his lady, to whom he had not revealed the secret, not doubting his death, ordered him to be put in his coffin. The Sheriff, though absent when the paroxysm seized him, luckily returned in time to preserve him; for he ordered the interment to be delayed, and the lawyer, returning to life, survived the accident sixteen years.”

Another case is that of a certain person who was conveyed to the church in order to be interred, but one of his friends sprinkling a large quantity of holy water on his face, which was covered, he not only returned to life, but also resumed a perfect state of health.

This writer subjoins other histories of persons who, being interred alive, have expired in their graves and tombs, as has afterwards been discovered by various marks made, not only in their sepulchres, but also in their own bodies. He in a particular manner mentions a young lady of Auxbourg, who, falling into a syncope, in consequence of a suffocation of the matrix, was buried in a deep vault, without being covered with earth, because her friends thought it sufficient to have the vault carefully shut up. Some years after, however, one of the family happened to die; the vault was opened, and the body of the young lady found on the stairs at its entry, without any fingers on the right hand.

It is recorded in “Tr. de Aere et Alim. defect.,” cap. vii., that a certain woman was hanged, and in all appearances was dead, who was nevertheless restored to life by a physician accidentally coming in and ordering a plentiful administration of sal ammoniac.

Another case of hanging is the story of Anne Green, executed at Oxford, December 14, 1650. She was hanged by the neck for half an hour, some of her friends thumping her on the breast, others hanging with all their weight upon her legs, and then pulling her down again with a sudden jerk, thereby the sooner to despatch her out of her pain. After she was in her coffin, being observed to breathe, a lusty fellow stamped with all his force on her breast and stomach to put her out of pain. But by the assistance of Dr. Petty, Dr. Willis, Dr. Bathurst, and Dr. Clark, she was again brought to life.

Kornmann, in his treatise “De Miraculis Mortuorum,” relates the following history:—“Saint Augustine, from Saint Cirille, informs us that a Cardinal of the name of Andrew having died in Rome in the presence of several bystanders, was next day conveyed to the church, where the Pope and a body of the clergy attended service in order to do honour to his memory. But to their great surprise, after some groans, he recovered his life and senses. This event was at the time looked upon as a miracle, and ascribed to Saint Jerome to whom the Cardinal was greatly attached.”

The following account seems more to resemble a miracle, though we do not find that it was looked upon as such:—“Gocellinus, a young man, and nephew to one of the Archbishops of Cologne, falling into the Rhine, was not found for fifteen days after, but was discovered to be alive as he lay before the shrine of Saint Guibert.”

Persons curious or incredulous upon the dangers of precipitate burials may, for their satisfaction, have recourse to the medical observations of Forestus; those of Amatus Lusitanus; the chirurgical observations of William Fabri; the treatise of Levinus Lemnius on the secret miracles of Nature; the observations of Schenkins; the medico-legal questions of Paul Zacchias; Albertinus Bottonus’s treatise of the Disorders of Women; Terilli’s treatise on the Causes of Sudden Death; Lancisi’s treatise Concerning Deaths, and Kornmann’s treatise on the Miracles of the Dead. These authors furnish us with a great variety of the most palpable and flagrant instances of the uncertainty of the signs of death. As examples of the possibility of even great anatomists being imposed upon by these fallacious signs, the two following accidents are given:—

“Andreas Vesalius, successively first physician to Charles the Fifth and his son Philip the Second of Spain, being persuaded that a certain Spanish gentleman, whom he had under management, was dead, asked liberty of his friends to lay open his body. His request being granted, he no sooner plunged his dissecting-knife in the body than he observed signs of life in it, since, upon opening the breast, he saw the heart palpitating. The friends of the deceased, horrified by the accident, pursued Vesalius as a murderer; and the judges inclined that he should suffer as such. By the entreaties of the King of Spain, he was rescued from the threatening danger, on condition that he would expiate his crime by undertaking a voyage to the Holy Land.”

The account of the accident that befell the other anatomist is taken from Terilli, and runs as follows:—

“A lady of distinction in Spain, being seized with an hysteric suffocation so violent that she was thought irretrievably dead, her friends employed a celebrated anatomist to lay open her body to discover the cause of her death. Upon the second stroke of the knife she was roused from her disorder, and discovered evident signs of life by her lamentable shrieks extorted by the fatal instrument. This melancholy spectacle struck the bystanders with so much consternation and horror that the anatomist, now no less condemned and abhorred than before applauded and extolled, was forthwith obliged to quit not only the town but also the province in which the guiltless tragedy was acted. But though he quitted the now disagreeable scene of the accident, a groundless remorse preyed upon his soul, till at last a fatal melancholy put an end to his life.”

Physicians of the earlier ages knew that there were disorders which so locked up or destroyed the external senses that the patients labouring under them appeared to be dead. According to Mr. Le Clerc, in his “History of Medicine,” Diogenes Laertius informs us “that Empedocles was particularly admired for curing a woman supposed to be dead, though that philosopher frankly acknowledged that her disorder was only a suffocation of the matrix, and affirmed that the patient might live in that state (the absence of respiration) for thirty days.”

Mr. Le Clerc, in the work already quoted, tells us that “Heraclides of Pontus wrote a book concerning the causes of diseases, in which he affirmed that a patient is without respiration in certain disorders for thirty days, and that they appeared dead in every respect, except corruption of the body.”

To these authorities we may add that of Pliny, who, after mentioning the lamentable fate of Aviola and Lamia, affirms—“That such is the condition of humanity, and so uncertain the judgment men are capable of forming of things, that even death itself is not to be trusted to.”

Colerus, in “Oeconom.” part vi., lib. xviii., cap. 113, observes, “That a person as yet not really dead may, for a long time, remain apparently in that state without discovering the least signs of life; and this has happened in the times of the Plague, when a great many persons interred have returned to life in their graves.” Authors also inform us that the like accident frequently befalls women seized with a suffocation of the matrix (hysteria).

Forestus, in “Obs. Med.,” 1. xvii., obs. 9, informs us—“That drowned persons have returned to life after remaining forty-eight hours in the water; and sometimes women, buried during a paroxysm of the hysteric passion, have returned to life in their graves; for which reason it is forbidden in some countries to bury the dead sooner than seventy-two hours after death.” This precaution of delaying the interment of persons thought to be dead is of a very ancient date, since Dilberus, in “Disput. Philol.,” tome i., observes that Plato ordered the bodies of the dead to be kept till the third day, in order to be satisfied of the reality of death.

The burial customs of the ancients often included steps that were taken as a precaution against mistaking the living for the dead. Indeed the fear of such an accident seems to have always been entertained as a thing liable to occur in every case of seeming death. The embalming process employed by the Egyptians was a surgical test of the kind. The abdomen was first opened in order to remove the intestines, and some startling experiences must have been had in consequence of the incisions required for this operation, because it was customary for the friends and relatives of the deceased to throw stones at the persons employed in embalming as soon as the work was over, owing to the horror with which they were struck upon witnessing what must have been at times a cruel proceeding.

The funeral ceremonies used in the Caribbee Islands are, in a great measure, conformable to reason. They wash the body, wrap it up in a cloth, and then begin a series of lamentations and discourses calculated to recall the deceased to life, by naming all the pleasures and privileges he has enjoyed in the world, saying over and over again, “How comes it, then, that you have died?” When the lamentations are over, they place the body on a small seat, in a grave about four or five feet deep, and for ten days present aliments to it, entreating it to eat. Then, convinced that it would neither eat nor return to life, they, for its obstinacy, throw the victuals on its head, and cover up the grave. It is evident from the practices of this people that they wait so long before they cover the body with earth, because they have had instances of persons recalled to life by these measures.

Lamentations of a similar kind were employed by the Jews and Romans, as well as by the ancient Prussians and the inhabitants of Servia, founded doubtless upon similar experiences.

The Thracians, according to Herodotus, kept their dead for only three days, at the end of which time they offered up sacrifices of all kinds, and, after bidding their last adieu to the deceased, either burned or interred their bodies.

According to Quenstedt, the ancient Russians laid the body of the dead person naked on a table, and washed it for an hour with warm water. Then they put it into a bier, which was set in the most public room in the house. On the third day they conveyed it to the place of interment, where the bier, being opened, the women embraced the body with great lamentations. Then the singers spent an hour in shouting and making a noise in order to recall it to life; after which it was let down into the grave and covered with earth. So that this people used the test of warm water, that of cries, and a reasonable delay, before they proceeded to the interment.

In the laws and history of the Jews, there is but one regulation with respect to interment (in the twenty-first chapter of Deuteronomy), where the Jewish legislator orders persons hanged to be buried the same day. From this, one is led to infer that the funeral ceremonies, as handed down from Adam, were otherwise perfect and unexceptionable. The bier used by the Jews, on which the body was laid, was not shut at the top, as our coffins are, as is obvious from the resurrection of the Widow of Nain’s son, recorded in the seventh chapter of Luke, where these words occur:—“And he came and touched the bier, and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise; and he that was dead sat up and began to speak.”

Gierus and Calmet inform us that the body, before its interment, lay for some days in the porch or dining-room of the house. According to Maretus, it was probably during this time that great lamentations were made, in which the name of the deceased was intermixed with mournful cries and groans.

Mr. Boyer, member of the Faculty at Paris, observes that such lamentations are still used by the Eastern Jews, and even by the Greeks who embrace the articles of the Greek Church. These people hire women to weep and dance by turns round the body of the dead person, whom they interrogate with respect to the reasons they had for dying.

Lanzoni, a physician of Ferrara, informs us that “when any person among the Romans died, his nearest relatives closed his mouth and eyes, and when they saw him ready to expire, they caught his last words and sighs. Then calling him aloud three times by his name, they bade him an eternal adieu.” This ceremony of calling the name of the dying person was called Conclamation, a custom that dates prior to the foundation of Rome, and was only abolished with paganism.

Propertius acquaints us with the effect they expected from the first Conclamation—since there were several of them. He introduces Cynthia as saying, “Nobody called me by my name at the time my eyes were closing, and I should have enjoyed an additional day if you had recalled me to life.”

Conclamations were made also by trumpets and horns, blown upon the head, into the ears, and upon neck and chest, so as to penetrate all the cavities of the body, into which, as the ancients imagined, the soul might possibly make her retreat.

Quenstedt and Casper Barthius, in “Advers.,” lib. xxxvii., ch. 17, tell us that it was customary among the ancients to wash the bodies of their dead in warm water before they burned them, “that the heat of the water might rouse the languid principle of life which might possibly be left in the body.”

By warm water we are to understand boiling water, as is obvious from the copious steam arising from the vessel represented in pieces of statuary in such instances: as also from the Sixth Book of Virgil’s “Æneid”—“Some of the companions of Æneas, with boiling water taken from brazen vessels, wash the dead body, and then anoint it.”

The Romans, as Lanzoni informs us, kept the bodies of the dead seven days before they interred them; and Servius, in his commentary on Virgil, tells us “that on the eighth day they burned the body, and on the ninth put its ashes in the grave.” Polydorus and Alexander ab Alexandro are also of opinion that the Romans kept the dead seven days; and Gierus affirms that they sometimes did not bury them till the ninth; but it is easy to believe that they deviated from the most universal custom when evident and incontestable marks of death rendered it safe to inter before the usual time. Alexander ab Alexandro also observes that it was customary among the Greeks to keep the bodies of their dead seven days before they put them on the funeral pile.

It would have, perhaps, been sufficient to have kept the bodies of the dead seven days, or nine, or till putrefaction evinced the certainty of death; but the Romans carried their circumspection farther, since, to use the words of Quenstedt, “Those who were employed in watching the dead now and then began their conclamations, and all at once called the dead person aloud by his name, because, as Celsus informs us, the principle of life is often thought to have left the body when it still remains in it; for which reason conclamations were made, in order, if possible, to rouse it and excite it.”

If our senses are so imperfect that the signs of life may escape them; if the languid state of the sensitive powers, or the origin of the nerves, is such that the most painful chirurgical operations are sometimes insufficient to put the spirits in motion; if the duration of a perfect insensibility for a considerable number of days is a precarious and uncertain mark of death; and if situations, apparently the most inconsistent with life, for a considerable time amount only to strong presumptions that life is destroyed, we ought, with Mr. Winslow and a great many other celebrated authors, to conclude that a beginning of putrefaction is the only certain sign of death.

Mr. Winslow evidently proves that the most cruel chirurgical operations are sometimes insufficient to ascertain death. From these observations we can but conclude—(1) That it is to no purpose to use the most cruel chirurgical operations; and (2) that it is necessary to abstain from such as may prove mortal to the patient. Mr. Winslow is indeed so far from recommending operations of the last mentioned kind, that he calls it rash to plunge a long needle under the nail of an apoplectic patient’s toe.

But if Mr. Winslow thinks it rash to make a simple puncture in a nervous part, we ought, surely, not to entertain a favourable notion of the large and enormous incisions made in dissections. Those, indeed, who are dissected run no risk of being interred alive. The operation is an infallible means to secure them from so terrible a fate. This is one advantage which persons dissected have over those who are without any further ceremony shut up in their coffins.

In the appendix to the second edition of Dr. Curry’s “Observations on Apparent Death” several instances of a similar kind are added, and amongst others the case of William Earl of Pembroke, who died April 30, 1630. When the body was opened in order to be embalmed, he was observed, immediately after the incision was made, to lift up his hand. This is capped by the incident of Vesalius already given.

“A correspondent of the late Dr. Hawes assures us that there was then living in Hertfordshire a lady of an ancient and honourable family whose mother was brought to life after interment by the attempt of a thief to steal a valuable ring from her finger. (See Reports of the Royal Humane Society for 1787-88-89, p. 77.) Whether it was the same or not I cannot say, but Lady Dryden, who resided in the southern part of Northamptonshire, in consequence of some such event having occurred in her family expressly directed in her will that her body should have the throat cut across previous to interment; and to secure this bequeathed fifty pounds to an eminent physician, who actually performed it.”—Ibid., p. 106.

Dr. Elliotson refers to a case of a female who was pronounced to be dead. Her pulse could not be felt, and she was put into a coffin; and, as the coffin lid was being closed they observed a sweat break out, and thus saw that she was alive. She recovered completely, and then stated that she had been unable to give any signs of life whatever; that she was conscious of all that was going on around her; that she heard everything; and that when she found the coffin lid about to be put on,the agony was dreadful beyond all description, so that it produced the sweat seen by the attendants.

DEATH-TRANCE.

In two cases related by the late Mr. Braid, of Manchester, “the patients remained in the horrible condition of hearing various remarks about their death and interment. All this they heard distinctly without having the power of giving any indication that they were alive, until some accidental abrupt impression aroused them from their lethargy, and rescued them from their perilous situation. On one of these occasions, what most intensely affected the feelings of the entranced subject, as she afterwards communicated to my informant, was hearing a little sister, who came into the room, where she was laid out for dead, exulting in the prospect, in consequence of her death, of getting possession of a necklace of the deceased.” In another instance, the patient remained in a cataleptic condition for fourteen days. During this period, the visible signs of vitality were a slight degree of animal heat and appearance of moisture when a mirror was held close to her face. But although she had no voluntary power to give indication by word or gesture, nevertheless she heard and understood all that was said and proposed to be done, and suffered the most exquisite torture from various tests applied to her.... There is hardly a more interesting chapter in the records of medical literature than the history of well-authenticated cases of profound lethargy or death-trance. Most of the reported cases in which persons in a state of trance are stated to have been consigned to the horrors of a living burial may possibly be apocryphal. Still, on the other hand, there are unquestionably too many well-substantiated instances of the actual occurrence of this calamity, the horrors of which no effort of the imagination can exaggerate, and for the prevention of which no pains can be excessive and no precaution superfluous.

The following is taken from “Memorials of the Family of Scott, of Scott’s Hall, in the County of Kent, with an Appendix of Illustrative Documents,” by James Benat Scott, F. S. A., London, 1876, page 225:—

“Robert Scott, Esq., tenth (but sixth surviving) son of Sir Thomas Scott, of Scot’s-Hall, Knight, married Priscilla, one of the daughters of Sir Thomas Honywood, of Elmsmere, Knight, by whom he had nine children. Remarkable accidents happened to the said Robert Scott and Priscilla, his wife, before their marriage, at their marriage, and after their marriage, before they had children. At their marriage, which was in or about the year 1610, the said Robert Scott having forgot his wedding ring when they were to be married, the said Priscilla was married with a ring with death’s head upon it.

“Within a short time after they were married, the said Robert Scott, and Priscilla, his wife, sojourning with Sir Edward at Austenhanger, the said Robert Scott, about Bartholomewtide, fell sick of a desperate malignant fever, and was given over for dead by all, insomuch as that he was laid forth, the pillows pulled from under him, the curtains drawn, and the chamber windows set open, and ministers spoke to to preach the funeral service, and a book called for his funeral that was to have been kept at Scott’s Hall, where Sir John Scott the eldest brother then lived. At night he was watched with by his own servant, named Robins, and another servant in the house, and about midnight they, sitting together by the fire in the chamber, the said Robins said to the other, ‘Methinks my master should not be dead, I will go and try,’ and presently starting up went to the bedside where his master laid, and hallooed in his ear, and laid a feather to his nostrils, and perceived that he breathed, upon which he called them up in the house, and they warmed clothes and rubbed him, and brought him to life again. He lived afterwards to be upwards of seventy-two years of age, and to have nine children.

“Another remarkable passage was that his wife, Priscilla, being then very sick also, they told her that he was dead. She answered that she did not believe that God would part them so soon. The said Priscilla, when born, was laid for dead, no one minding her, but all the women went to help her mother, who was then like to die after her delivery; but at last an old woman, taking the child in her arms, carried it downstairs, and using means, brought her to life. The other women, missing the child, and hearing the old woman had carried her down to get life in her, laughed at her, as thinking it impossible to bring the child to life; but in a little time she brought it into the chamber, to the amazement of them all, and said she might live to be an old woman; and so she did to the age of fifty-two, and had nine children.”

The following cases are from Mrs. Crowe’s “Night Side of Nature,” pp. 133-136:—

“Dr. Burns mentions a girl at Canton, who lay in a trance, hearing every word that was said around her, but utterly unable to move a finger. She tried to cry out, but could not, and supposed that she was really dead. The horror of finding that she was about to be buried at length caused a perspiration to appear on her skin, and she finally revived. She described that she felt that her soul had no power to act upon her body, and that it seemed to be in her body and out of it at the same time.”

“Lady Fanshawe related the case of her mother who being sick of a fever, her friends and servants thought her deceased, and she lay in that state for two days and a night; but Mr. Winslow, coming to comfort my father, went into my mother’s room, and looking earnestly into her face, said, ‘She was so handsome, and looked so lovely, that he could not think her dead,’ and, suddenly taking a lancet out of his pocket, he cut the sole of her foot, which bled: upon this he immediately caused her to be removed to the bed again, and she opened her eyes, after rubbing and other restorative means, and came to life.”

“On the 10th of January, 1717, Mr. John Gardner, a minister at Elgin, fell into a trance, and being to all appearances dead, he was put into a coffin and on the second day was carried to the grave. But fortunately a noise being heard, the coffin was opened, and he was found alive and taken home again, where, according to the record, ‘he related many strange and amazing things which he had seen in the other world.’”

Under the head of “Suspended Animation: Cases of Recovery, etc.,” the Report of the Royal Humane Society for 1816-17, pp. 48-50, copies the following:—“A young lady, an attendant on the Princess of——, after having been confined to her bed for a great length of time with a violent disorder, was at last to all appearances deprived of life. Her lips were quite pale, her face resembled the countenance of a dead person, and her body became cold.

“She was removed from the room in which she died, was laid in a coffin, and the day of her funeral was fixed on. The day arrived, and, according to the custom of the country, funeral songs and hymns were sung before the door. Just as they were about to nail on the lid of the coffin, a slight perspiration was observed to appear on the surface of her body. It grew greater every moment, and at last a kind of convulsive motion was observed in the hands and feet of the corpse. A few moments after, during which time fresh signs of returning life appeared, she at once opened her eyes, and uttered a pitiable shriek. Physicians were quickly procured, and in the course of a few days she was considerably restored, and is probably alive at this day.”

The description which she herself gave of her situation is extremely remarkable, and forms a curious and authentic addition to psychology:—

“She said it seemed to her, as if in a dream, that she was really dead; yet she was perfectly conscious of all that happened around her in this dreadful state. She distinctly heard her friends speaking, and lamenting her death at the side of her coffin. She felt them pull on the dead-clothes and lay her in it. This feeling produced a mental anxiety which was indescribable. She tried to cry, but her soul was without power and could not act on her body. She had the contradictory feeling as if she were in her body, and yet not in it, at one and the same time. It was equally impossible for her to stretch out her arms, or to open her eyes, or to cry although she continued to do so. The internal anguish of her mind was, however, at its utmost height when the funeral hymns began to be sung, and when the lid of the coffin was about to be nailed on. The thought that she was to be buried alive was the first one which gave activity to her soul, and caused it to operate on her corporeal frame.”

Related by Dr. Herz in the “Psychological Magazine,” and transcribed by Sir Alexander Crichton in the introduction to his essay on “Mental Derangement.” [2 vols., Lond., 1798.]

“One of the most frightful cases extant is that of Dr. Walker, of Dublin, who had so strong a presentiment on this subject, that he had actually written a treatise against the Irish custom of hasty burial. He, himself, subsequently died, as was believed, of a fever. His decease took place in the night, and on the following day he was interred. At this time, Mrs. Bellamy, the once-celebrated actress, was in Ireland; and as she had promised him, in the course of conversation, that she would take care he should not be laid in the earth till unequivocal signs of dissolution had appeared, she no sooner heard of what had happened than she took measures to have the grave reopened; but it was, unfortunately, too late. Dr. Walker had evidently revived, and had turned upon his side; but life was quite extinct.”

Mr. Horace Welby, in a chapter on “Premature Interment,” says that “the Rev. Owen Manning, the historian of Surrey, during his residence at Cambridge University, caught small-pox, and was reduced by the disorder to a state of insensibility and apparent death. The body was laid out and preparations were made for the funeral, when Mr. Manning’s father, going into the chamber to take a last look at his son, raised the imagined corpse from its recumbent position, saying, ‘I will give my poor boy another chance,’ upon which signs of vitality were apparent. He was therefore removed by his friend and fellow-student, Dr. Heberden, and ultimately restored to health.”—The Mysteries of Life and Death, pp. 115-116.

A most conspicuous and interesting monument in St. Giles’s Church, Cripplegate, London (where Cromwell was married and John Milton buried), is associated with a remarkable case of trance or catalepsy. In the chancel is a striking sculptured figure in memory of Constance Whitney, a lady of remarkable gifts, whose rare excellences are fully described in the tablet. She is represented as rising from her coffin. Welby, at p. 116, relates the story that she had been buried while in a state of suspended animation, but was restored to life through the cupidity of the sexton, which induced him to disinter the body to obtain possession of a valuable ring left upon her finger, which he concluded could be of no use to the wearer. A study of the facts of premature burial shows that the rifling of tombs and coffins to obtain valuables has in other instances revealed similar tragic occurrences.

The often-cited case of Mrs. Goodman, one of those recalled to life by the sexton’s attempt to remove a ring from the finger, is thus related in the “History of Bandon,” by George Bennett:—

Hannah, wife of Rev. Richard Goodman, vicar of Ballymodan, Bandon, from 1692 to 1737, fell into ill-health, and apparently died. Two or three days after her decease, the body was taken to Rosscarbery Cathedral, and there laid in the family vault of the Goodmans. The attempt of the sexton to recover a valuable diamond ring from the finger is said to have been made at an early hour the next morning. Much violence was used, so that the corpse moved, yawned, and sat up. The sexton having fled in terror, leaving his lantern behind and the church door open, the lady in her shroud made her way out of the vault and through the church to the residence of her brother-in-law, the Rev. Thomas Goodman, which was just outside the church-yard. Having been admitted after some delay and consternation, she was put to bed, and fell asleep soon after, her brother-in-law and his man-servant keeping watch over her until mid-day, when she awoke refreshed. She is said to have shown herself in the village in the afternoon, to have supped with the family in the evening, and to have set out for home on horseback next morning. She is said to have survived this episode for some years, and to have borne a son subsequent to it, who died at an advanced age at Innishannon, a village near Bandon.

In Smith’s “History of Cork,” vol. ii., p. 428, the same incident is thus mentioned:—“Mr. John Goodman, of Cork, died in January, 1747, aged about four score; but what is remarkable of him, his mother was interred while she lay in a trance, having been buried in a vault, etc.... This Mr. Goodman was born some time after.”

Mr. Peckard, Master of Magdalen College, Cambridge, in a work entitled “Further Observations on the Doctrine of an Intermediate State,” mentions that Mrs. Godfrey, Mistress of the Jewel Office, and sister of the great Duke of Marlborough, is stated to have lain in a trance, apparently dead, for seven days, and was declared by her medical attendants to have been dead. Colonel Godfrey, her husband, would not allow her to be interred, or the body to be treated in the manner of a corpse; and on the eighth day she awoke, without any consciousness of her long insensibility.

The daughter of Henry Laurens, of South Carolina, the first President of the American Congress during the Revolutionary War, died when young of small-pox. At all events a medical certificate pronounced her dead, and she was shrouded and coffined for interment. It was customary in those days to confine the patient amidst red curtains with closed windows. After the certificate of death had been duly made out, the curtains were thrown back and the windows opened. The fresh air revived the patient, who recovered and lived to a mature age. This circumstance occasioned on her father so powerful a dread of living interment, that he directed by will that his body should be burnt, and enjoined on his children the performance of this wish as a sacred duty.

Bouchut in his “Signes de la Mort,” p. 58, relates that the physician of Queen Isabella of Spain was treating a man during a dangerous illness, and as he went to see his patient one morning he was informed by the assistants that the man had died. He entered, and found the body, in the habit of the Order of St. Francis, laid out upon a board. Nothing daunted, he had him put back to bed in spite of the ridicule of those present, and the patient soon revived and fully recovered.

The following cases are from KÖppen (see Bibliography, 1799):—

Vienna. 1791.—A castle guard (portier) was in a trance for several days. His funeral was prepared, and he was placed in a coffin. All at once he unexpectedly opened his eyes and called out, “Mother, where is the coffee?”

Halle, 1753.—In the register of deaths, at St. Mary’s Church, is the following entry:—“Shoemaker Casper Koch was buried, aged eighty-one years. Thirty years ago he had died, to all appearances, and was put in a coffin, when suddenly, when they were about to bury him, he recovered his consciousness.”

Haag, Holland, 1785.—The son of a cook died, and while the coffin was being carried to the grave-yard, he was heard to knock. On opening the coffin he was found alive. He was taken home and was restored.

In the “CyclopÆdia of Practical Medicine,” edited by John Forbes, M.D., F.R.S., and others, 1847, vol. i., pp. 548-549, is the following:—“A remarkable instance of resuscitation after apparent death occurred in France, in the neighbourhood of Douai, in the year 1745, and is related by Rigaudeaux, (Journal des SÇavans, 1749,) to whom the case was confided. He was summoned in the morning to attend a woman in labour, at a distance of about a league. On his arrival, he was informed that she had died in a convulsive fit two hours previously. The body was already prepared for interment, and on examination he could discover no indications of life. The os uteri was sufficiently dilated to enable him to turn the child and deliver by the feet. The child appeared to be dead also; but, by persevering in the means of resuscitation for three hours, they excited some signs of vitality, which encouraged them to proceed, and their endeavours were ultimately crowned with complete success. Rigaudeaux again carefully examined the mother, and was confirmed in the belief of her death; but he found that, although she had been in that state for seven hours, her limbs retained their flexibility. Stimulants were applied in vain; he took his leave, recommending that the interment should be deferred until the flexibility was lost. At five p.m. a messenger came to inform him that she had revived at half-past three. The mother and child were both alive three years after.”