OUT OF THE BODY.

Southland Times, Volume 2, Issue 104, 21 October 1863, Page 5 (Supplement)

OUT OF THE BODY.

{From Oit«-a-WV«i.) jj a room in the Great Quadrangle of t College of Holy Bottle some dozen „sat. It was after " hall" (tbat is pvJinner), and we were " wining" jtf&r uncouth University expression) t_ my friend Alien. Undergraduates [0 f us, and a'i members of tbe aforejtl college, which I have chosen to U (stealing from *' Rabelais") by the jje " Holy Bottle. 1 * lam noting to describe a wine-party, or to ' B lge in boyish slang. In the first f e, we were not freshmen, and that uer verb " to wine* expresses, when e »<*e_4s have overpassed the freshs stage, *no extraordinary or nnjsonable process^ port, and sherry & claret, with a few dry bisi U —a jar of tobacco and a box tolerable cigars— only these and itbi'ig niere. When the -delights too much wine and a surfeit of ,eets have been proved to be no longer they so<jn lose their stations. In the second place, I write 0 memory af a distant period-; and -Jang was talked on that evening, it jflld be slang which has now ceased ' ,be current. How soon those choice; 51-ers of speech die away ! The -very [les of the utterers of those flash notes jin^e every few years— -Macaronies, loods, bucks, dandies, fast men. Ido D t remember what women were the mt?, or what horses were the iwrites, or where the hounds used ; meet *, or, if I do, all is changed then. The women are no longer lr; the horses, if any survive, are srhaps cab- horses; and the hunting, hear, is by no m°ans what it was. ;e Dean, Avhom we then execrated is „j; the tutors have disappeared into lesec'usion of fat -country livings ; the [liter— well, everybody who knows -ly Bottle knows that the Master of |/y Bottle is unassailable by time as j all other ills of life. He still rules i^rerne in his ancient seat, and if need t can vouch for and confirm the truth ( my story. ' My readers will perceive that the enrersation which follows was not taken fcwn verbatim— is, in fact, a mere ge--traiisation from memr-ry. I may have ; al speeches into -wrong mouths, or 1:0 the mouths of interlocutors not resent or non-existent. But the bear- . 12 and tone of the conversation is; jren truly. I have cause to re nae mtr that evening, and fhe talk in which pined in Allen's rooms was prepara'si to — nay, the cause which -led to ; _ experiences which follow. It was a Saturday in the October bn, aiid evening was already settling own. A dull heavy mist filled the cadrangle and quite hid its opposite ide. We were gathered round the | lazing fire, which gave iorth that tabbing vital kind of light which ■to-asts so forcibly and pleasantly with j ■bdeadness of winter twilight. Other ' »ht there was none, -save such as iakled from red cigar ends, or glow\r p ; pe-bowls. Smoke within and est without. The party of ten or a »zen young men felt, I have no doubt, nt sense of snu;; isolation from outer bcomforts which the limited radius of re-light, especially when hounded by Dote wreaths, is apt to impress on us. t exatious for those who would have to im out into the cold, raw, damp night ir" evening chapel." "A strange fellow," said Hawkins. He never does anything. He never cats, nor rides, nor walks — or if he tes walk, it is at night. I met him le other night at 12 o'clock coming "and the corner of Auteole-street, id he gave me much the same sort f impression that I fancy a ghost 'ould do, though I never tried it. low he manages to come over the fcos I cannot think. He cuts lectures id chapels from week's end to week's id, and seems to be out of college at 2 hours of the nightY " He is a queer fellow," said Graham. the deuce doesn't he have his lircut? I never saw a more, barirons figure in my life." "Does anybody know anybody that Sosrshim?" asked Allen. " I never i* him speak to a soul yet. I pity X* poor devil. He se«ms quite friend's and alone." " You are talking of Mauleverer, I ■Ppose,' I said. "Yes, I may say ■t / know him. A neighbor of mine ■ie country asked me to look him up, *• I did so on his first arrival." ! ''Did you find him in?" " Yes, and stayed chatting with him 'some time. He is by no means a "i— though strange, as you say. He *a»ed to me to be a little wrong in the B( *; and from what I remember of J friend's letter, there was some hint the kind dropped in it. He spoke Mauleverer being eccentric, havin<? £ a long illness, and so forth, and Mit would be a kindness to do what ftnld for him.'* A little cracked, you think ? " said **luns. " Can he talk. I spoke to "•near the corner of Anreole-street «nl met him, as I told you, and he ! 'not answer a word." Oh yes, he can talk, though he is "We shy and absent. He reads hard, 'Wld think from his books. He has * cr 7 extensive library. He seems fS7« as hard readers always do. The Jef thing about him that struck me, wnk, was tbe shaking hands with *■ I never felt such a cold damp _Bll \? m J c'e ' **" 8* yes one lu,te1 u,te a *± fishy kind of hand," said some /The very same thing struck me,*' "yatt, the only freshman of our JPany. " Mauleverer is a friend of „ e * We are on quite intimate terms." By Jove ! '' cried one. "hat sort of a fellow is he?" asked other. The way I became acquainted with ** w *w this. 1 was up the river the

other day, and, not being a swell at pulling, I managed to get an upset. This was not far from the ' Harrow.' I wen* in there to c-ry myself, and to get some egg-flip, which seemed necessary under the circumstances. There was a crowd in the left-hand room, and upon inquiry I found that a University man had been taken suddenly ill. I went into the left-hand room. The sick man was Mauleverer. He was in a fit— a strange kind of fit. He was perfectly stiff — he had been struck standing, they said — and was propped, not sitting, against the bench and against the wall. One arm, from the elbow, was stretched out horizontally. He was bluish white in the face, his eye 3 open and glazed. You Were nevt-r at the Morgue ou Mount St. Bernard, were you ? Well, he was very much like one of the figures there. I took hold of his outstretched hand — why, I don't know — and the freezing stiff fingers closed topon mine. By Jove! I didn't get over it for days. My hand became quite dead, white in the flesh and purple in the nails, and all the sensation I bad in it for a week was that of what they call pins and needles. I have seen men in fits before, but never a fit like that. He looked exactly like a corpse." 41 Catalepsy? " said Allen. " Oh, bless you, he's quite used to it," said Wyatt. ** I know how to manage him now, though I did not then. He came round after a time, and I saw him back to his rooms. There happened to be a dog-cart at the ' Harrow,' and the men who had come in.it gave it up to us, and vent back in my boat. Anybody else would have done as much, of course ; but you cau't think how grateful the poor fellow was to me. m We struck up a friendship there and then, and since that I* see him almost every day." " He is subject to fits then V I asked. *' Yes. Has been subject to them, he says, ever since a severe fall which he got out hunting. His spine was injured, and he lay for weeks insensible. He has had fits from that time. Cataleptic, I suppose they are — no convulsions—only a sudden swooning and stiffeniug of the whole body. But the strangest thing is, that he can bring on these "fits whenever he pleases.*' " How do you mean ? " "" Well, he himself makes a distinction. He says that the fits, which came upon him against his will, areordinary cataleptic fits; but, over and above thisaffliction, he lays claim to a power of putting himself into a trance whenever he pleases. For myself, I don't see much difference between the two. He declares that the trances into which he throws him- J self are absolutely a separating o( the soul from the body. lie talks iv the most mysterious raanuer about this power that he possesses. He asserts most solemnly that when be uses this power he is consciously out of aud separate from his body, which is to all intents and purposes dead. I can't express myself clearly — but you uudersta*ad what I mean,'' There were exclamations of surprise. "He only fancies this, I suppose/ said Allan; "it is a hallucination. He cannot really bring ou these fits when he likes, can he?". ** He certainly can, though." " Have you ever seen him do it?'* \ " Yes ; once only. That was enough for me.'' "By Jove ! tell us about it," cried a chorus of voices. " There is not much to tell. He had been talking about these trances of his, and I was curious, and not a little sceptical. I challenged him to do it, and, by Heaven, in five minutes he lay before me seemingly quite dead. J don't like to talk of it!" Wyatt shuddered. " You don't mean to say that he really did go off in this way, of his own will and act ?" "Not a doubt of it." " And how did he do it ?" — "How long did he remain so ?*' "Did he come to again, all right?" There was a shower of questions. " He seemed to me to remain in the trance a long time, but, I confess, I was desperately frightened, and the time would seem long. He says himself that he cannot continue so for more than two or three minutes — that it is great labor to keep body and soul apart. He describes the connection between them as something like an elastic string at full stretch. If the tension is relaxed, they fly together again.'' "And how did he gooff? Tell us about it V " He cautioned me at first not to speak, and on no account to touch him. Then he fixed his eyes, and seemed to hold his breath. After a few moments he began to grow pale. This pallor increased rapidly till he was quite white. Then there was a bubbling sound in his throat, and he gave a long expiration. The breath came out of his mouth like a bluish stream. Then all was over — he lay quite dead. It was perfectly awlul. The first sign of his coming to was a rush of color into his face : from white it became crimson. He awoke up as from a dream, seeming a little bewildered at first, and much exhausted. He says it is very hard work. He describes the soul— or the life principle, or the breath, or whatever it is— as first collecting in the heart, and then passing from that up the spine, and so out from the body at the top of the head. He says an aperture is formed in the head, through which the soul goes out, and that it is very difficult to keep this aperture open while the soul is absent. I suppose if it closed he would never revive. He assured me that he was perfectly conscious of existing apart from his body, and of the presence of the body as a thing separate and distinct from himself. I asked whether his soul went far away from the body, and he said, *No ; that the separation

was not absolutely complete ; that there was some link of connection,' wliich he likened to an elastic string, as I said before. He distinguishes between his fits and the voluntary exercise of his power. He did not possess the power previous to his fall. Thus he allows it to be in some way counected with the fits, though he says that the symptoms of the two are quite different.** " I never heard such an extraordinary story in my life !'' said Allen. I confess that I (the writer) had listened to Wyatt with an absorbing interest. Unhappily the case of Mauleverer aroused in me an unquenchable curiosity. I resolved on the instant to use my slight acquaintance with him to put this strange preternatural power of his to the test. I had some dim remembrance of having read of cases of the kind before. Marvellous instances of cataleptic trances were on record. I mingled remembrances of accounts of such physical wonders with remembrances of more mysterious legends of- ancient philosophers and mystics. All my notions on the subject were vague, and for that reason, probably, my curisity was the stronger. Oue point, however, in Wyatt's account seemed familiar to me. Of the aperture in the head, through which the vital principle issued from the body, I had certainly heard before. Where, I could not tell ; but this one point coming clearly before me as a fact known before, impressed me forcibly. **• is Mauleverer ashamed of exhibiting this power which he possesses * " I asked-. " 1 suppose he does not wish ! it to be known or talked of." "On the contrary," said Wyatt, " I , think he is rather proud of it. He is fond of obtruding the subject, and has several times, since that first, .proposed to exhibit, as you call it, before me. That one exhibition, however, was quite enough-. I never will submit to another. It must be awfully dangerous to himself; and the sight of it is not entertaining. It is a kind of thing that one dreams about after wai ds." " I should very mubh like to See the performance, nevertheless/ I said. "As to danger, I should think there could be little, if it is a habitual thing with him." " Nothing easier than to see it, if you are so inclined. You know him. Call on him, and just introduce the subject, and I bet that he will at once offer to gratify your curiosity. He has a morbid kind of pride in the possession of this gift." " Will you go with me ? " ! " Yes, any day you please." { looked at my watch. " Why not at once ?" I said. "Are 3*ou going to chapel? There will just be time before it begins." Wyatt gave a glance towards the darkening windows, and shrugged his shoulders. " I will go with you," he ssid, "on condition that I am not to stay for the performance. I wiil introduce the subject, and put matters in proper train, and then you shall have your seance to yourself.'* "Don't go to-night," said Allen; *' it only want's half-an hour of chapel time. I know you will not give up the anthem for Mauleverer." However, I was determined to satisfy my curiosity at once. Even the anthem (a nuisance to most men, from the fact of its lengthening the service), to which I always looked forward as a pleasure, became of secondary importance to the gratification of my sudden whim. Wyatt swung his surplice across his shoulders, and we descended from Allen's rooms. Mauleverer "kept" (another University word) on the opposite side of the court, between the great gateway which opened on Holy Bottle-street and the chapel. As we crossed the court the moon was struggling through the thick damp mists. The fountain in the centre of the open space, the lantern of the Hall and the tower qf the chapel loomed large and vague through the white fo^ " It is a hundred to one if his o»| is not sported, '' said Wyatt, "andth^H you will be disappointed. I half j^^H you will. You will never wish to r^^H the experiment.'' When we had ascended the^^^^| however, Mauleverer had just^^^^^f his door, and was Standing -nj^^^^H Of course we entered. dampness of Mauleverer's struck me with a kind °_^^^^^^| seemed shy and absent, a^^^^^^^^M him on my first ; b^^^^^^^^H made to tal^^^^^^^^H us a friendly manner^^^^^^^^^H necessary was lamn^^^^^^^^^^H our *ig_^^^^^^^^^H a doorway one C _^^^^^^^^^^^H as andj^^^^^H^^^^J tkt^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H The door led *^^^^^^^^^^H groined, roof^^^^^^^^^H traces of cc^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H above the t^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H lamp, was paiij^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H " You ha-^^^^^^^^^H snuggery befc^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H they and oratory.'* As he spoke^^^^^^^^H^^^^^^J ben^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H outlines HttlJ^^^^^^^^^l one oi^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^l gate w^^^^^^^^^^^^^H We ba<^^^^^^^^^^^^^H Mauleverer bri^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^J room, as^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H with'^^^^^^^^^^^^^l

only point remarkable in it. There were no pictures, no whips, or fishingtackle, or gun-cases, or fencing foils — the ordinary furniture of a young man's sanctum — books, and books only. " You are a great reader?" I asked. " Classics or mathematics — which do you take to ? " " To neither,'' he answered, laughing. " I read only for my own amusement. I have read a great deal more astrology than mathematics proper ; and I understand mediaeval Latin much better than classical. *' I gave a glance round his bookshelves. Of the names ranged there I then knew nothing — a strange collection of folios, big and little, in decayed bind*ings, and with a decidedly musty odoar. Wyatt, apropos of the turn of conversation, cleverly managed to lead up to the subject of my curiosity. Mauleverer was silent and grave at first. He blushed, pad -appeared uneasy. I feared that the subject was ' painful to him, and that he would* shrink from discussing it. " lam afraid you must think me a . a very strange sort of fellow ?*' he at length said to me, in a tone that was apologetic. ** But I expect, if the truth were known, other people could dojust the same as — as — as this that I can do, if they were to try. I daresay it appears to you a very eerie proceeding, but really there is not much in it. It is no more unnatural after the first time or two than simply going to sleep.'' His uneasiness seemed to be caused only by fear lest I should look upon his, peculiarity with horror and disgust. " My dear Mauleverer,''! said, I taka the greatest interest in the matter. I heard Cor the first time, half an hour ago, that you had this power. I hope you will forgive my feeling what I suppose I cm ca 1 by no better name than au intense curiosity. If to talk of the subject is disagreeable to you, pray let us drop it at once ; but if it is not so, I shall be very much obliged to you to satisfy the interest which I feel." " Oh no, it is not disagreeable to me. I am so used to it, that I suppose I lo >k upon it in a different light to what other people do." Tbe chapel bell had been ringing for some minutes. Wyatt put on his surplice and left us. Mauleverer, who seemed a little flushed and excited, walked to one of the Windows, and, . throwing it open, sat down on the win dow seat. I leaned against the shutter case, and listened as he spoke. Through the window the court, full of mist, rendered semi-transparent by faint moonlight, lay before us. 1 can sec the scene at this moment. The men were pouring into chapel, rushing along from all directions, their wide white surplices floating behind them as they ran. Now a flock came together, now a single figure; and as the time for closing the chapel gates drew nigh, the whole quadrangle became aliVe with the fluttering white draperies. Through the moonlit mist these figures assumed an indefiniteness mysterious and solemn. Light slanted down through the long . array of chapel windows, showing the wavering movement of the vapor; and the music of the organ was audible, now reaching us in a gush of tumultuous sounds, now dying away, till only the tremor of it was felt, rather thau heard. (To be continued.)