Observations placeholder

Death and its Mystery – After Death – Camille Flammarian

This is from a Russian magistrate, Monsieur Mamtchitch: St. Petersburg, April 29, 1891

Palladia was the daughter of a rich Russian landowner, who died one month before she was born. Her mother, in despair, dedicated her unborn child to life in a convent. The girl's name owed its origin to this circumstance; it was what the nuns called her.

Two years afterward her mother died, and the orphan was brought up until the age of fourteen, in a Moscow convent, by her aunt, who was the mother superior. ln 1870, when I was still a student in the University of Moscow I made the acquaintance of Palladia's brother, a student like myself, and we often talked of giving back to the world, this girl who was a nun, though not by her own choice.

 But our plan was not realized until 1872.

 I had gone to Moscow in the summer, to see the exposition, and I met Palladia's brother there, by chance. I learned that he was preparing to send her to the Crimea for her health, and I seconded this project as earnestly as I could. It was then that I saw Palladia for the first time. She was fourteen; though tall, she was very timid, and she already had tuberculosis.

On her brother's request, I accompanied her and her sister to the Crimea, where they spent the winter. In the summer of 1873 I happened to meet Palladia and her sister in Odessa, where they had gone to consult physicians. On August 27th, while I was reading to the two sisters, Palladia died, suddenly, of an aneurism. She was fifteen years old.

Two years afterward, in 1875, when I was in Kieff, I happened, one December evening, to be at a spiritistic seance for the first time. I heard blows inside the table, but this did not astonish me in the least, for I was convinced that it was a joke. When I got back home, I wished to see if I could produce any rapping; I assumed the same position, with my hands on the table. Soon I heard blows. Imitating the procedure which I had witnessed, I began to recite the alphabet.

Palladia's name was dictated. I was astonished and almost frightened.

Not being able to calm myself, I again took up my position near the table, and asked Palladia what she had to say to me. The reply was, “Set the angel up; it is falling down"

 I did not understand what she was talking about. She is buried in Kieff, and I had heard it said that they wished to put up a monument on her grave, but had never been to the spot where she was buried and did not know what sort of tombstone it was. I did not go back to bed, and as soon as dawn came I went to the cemetery. With the superintendent's assistance, and not without difficulty, I discovered the grave, buried under the snow. I halted, astounded: the marble statue of the angel, with a cross, was tilted, markedly, to one side.

From this I concluded that there is another world, with which we can enter into relations.

In October, 1876, I was moving into my new dwelling (rue Drores- naya) with Potolof, my colleague in the Department of Justice. I was in a very good humour, and was playing on a small, upright piano; it was about eight o'clock in the evening.

On one side of me was my study; it, too, was lighted by a lamp. My comrade was busy at his desk, at the other end of these adjoining rooms. All the doors were open, and from where he sat he could see the study very distinctly, and the room in which I was.

Suddenly I saw Palladia! She was standing in the middle of the doorway, her form turned a little to one side. Her face was toward me; she was looking at me calmly. She had on the same dark dress which she had worn when she died in my presence. Her right hand hung free. I saw her shoulders and her waist distinctly. I was looking into her eyes the whole time, queerly enough, without thinking that a dead person stood before me. She was lighted up on both sides, and my eyesight is very good. But I admit that at once I felt a shiver run down my spine, and was as though petrified! It was not fear, it was something else, such as the feeling I have when I look down from a great height ; at such times I experience a terrible, giddy qualm.

I could not say how long Palladia remained there before me, but I remember that she moved to the right and vanished behind the door of the study. I rushed toward her.

 Only then did I remember that she was dead.

At that moment my comrade came up to me and asked me what was the matter? I told him what had just happened then we went into the study, where we found no one. My comrade, who had heard me suddenly stop playing, had lifted his head and, so far as I can remember, he told me that he, too, had seen some one pass before the door. Because of my excitement he told me, to calm me, that it was probably my servant, who had come to attend to the lamp. But this servant was downstairs, in the kitchen.

That was how I saw Palladia for the first time, three years after her death. I have often seen her since. Sometimes she appears to me three times in a week or twice on the same day; or even a month may go by without my seeing her. Palladia always appears unexpectedly, taking me by surprise at a time when I am least anticipating it. Never do I see her in my dreams. I see her both when I am alone and with a great many people. She always appears to me with the same serene expression in her eyes; sometimes with a slight smile. I always see her in the dark dress which she wore when she died before my eyes. I see, distinctly, her face, her head, her shoulders and her arms, but I do not see her feet, or, rather, do not think of looking at them.

On these occasions, when I see Palladia unexpectedly, I grow dumb, I have a feeling of coldness in my back, I turn pale, I utter a feeble cry, and my breathing stops (this is what I am told by those who have by change seen me at such moments). The apparitions of Palladia last one, two, or three minutes, then gradually vanish and dissolve.

In 1879, at the end of November, I was in Kieff, seated at my desk, writing out an indictment. It was eight o'clock in the evening; my watch was before me on the table. I was hurrying to finish my work, for at nine o'clock I was to go to an evening party.

Suddenly I saw Palladia seated in an arm-chair before me I her right elbow was on a table and her head was in her hand. When I had recovered from the shock, I looked at my watch, following with my eyes the movement of the second-hand. Then I lifted my gaze to Palladia. I saw, that she had not changed her position, and I could see her elbow, clearly, on the table. Her eyes gazed at me with joy and serenity. Then, for the first time, I decided to speak to her.

“How do you feel, now?" I asked. Her face remained. impassive; her lips, so far as I can remember, did not move, but I distinctly heard her voice utter the word

“Calm"

"I understand," I answered. And, as a matter of fact, I understood at that moment all the meaning she had put into the word. That I might be still more certain that I was not dreaming, I looked at the watch again, and the second-hand. When I looked at Palladia once more I noted that she had begun to melt away and vanish.

In 1885 I was living with my parents on an estate in the Province of Poltava. One day, when I woke up at dawn, I saw Palladia. She was standing before me, about five paces away, gazing at me with a joyful smile. Drawing near me, she spoke these words:

“I have been, I have seen," and, still smiling, she disappeared.

What did these words mean? I could not understand them.

In my room my dog was sleeping near me. As soon as I saw Palladia, the dog's hair bristled. With a yelp, he jumped up on my bed, pressed against me, and looked in the direction in which I was gazing. He did not bark, though ordinarily he let no one enter my room without barking and growling. Whenever my dog saw Palladia he pressed against me, as though seeking a refuge. I spoke to no one about the incident.

The evening of that same day, a young girl who was stopping with us told me that something strange had happened to her that morning. "When I waked up early this morning," she said, “I had a feeling that someone was standing at the head of my bed, and I heard a voice saying to me, distinctly, ‘Don't be afraid of me; I'm good and loving.' I turned, my head, but saw nothing."

A year later, I was engaged to this girl. I must add that on the previous occasion I had met the young lady for the first time, and was not thinking in the least of a future marriage. Five years afterward, in 1890, I was with my wife and my son, aged two. We were staying with my old friends the Strijewskys, on their estate in the Province of Woroneje. One day, about seven o'clock in the evening, I was returning from a hunting expedition. I went into the wing in which we were living, in order to change my clothes. I was seated in a room lighted by a large lamp. The door opened and my son Oleg hurried to where I sat in an armchair. Then, suddenly, Palladia appeared before me. I noticed that he did not take his eyes from her. He turned to me; pointing at her, he spoke these two words:

 “My aunt." I took him on my knee and glanced toward Palladia, but she had vanished. Oleg’s face was absolutely calm and joyful; he was only beginning to speak; this explains his words concerning the apparition.