morning with his mind full of the thought that the words should be rendered “Nebo protect my boundary,” which “sounds a deal likelier,” and is now accepted.  I myself, when working at the MSS. of the exiled Stuarts, was puzzled by the scorched appearance of the paper on which Prince Charlie’s and the king’s letters were often written and by the peculiarities of the ink.  I woke one morning with a sudden flash of common-sense.  Sympathetic ink had been used, and the papers had been toasted or treated with acids.  This I had probably reasoned out in sleep, and, had I dreamed, my mind might have dramatised the idea.  Old Mr. Edgar, the king’s secretary, might have appeared and given me the explanation.  Maury publishes tales in which a forgotten fact was revealed to him in a dream from the lips of a dream-character (Le Sommeil et les Rêves, pp. 142-143.  The curious may also consult, on all these things, The Philosophy of Mysticism, by Karl du Prel, translated by Mr. Massey.  The Assyrian Priest is in Proceedings, S.P.R., vol. xii., p. 14).

On the same plane as the dreams which we have been examining is the waking sensation of the déjà vu.

“I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell.”

Most of us know this feeling, all the circumstances in which we find ourselves have already occurred, we have a prophecy of what will happen next “on the tip of our tongues” (like a half-remembered name), and then the impression vanishes.  Scott complains of suffering through a whole dinner-party from this sensation, but he had written “copy” for fifty printed pages on that day, and his brain was breaking down.  Of course psychology has explanations.  The scene may have really occurred before, or may be the result of a malady of perception, or one hemisphere of the brain not working in absolute simultaneousness with the other may produce a double impression, the first being followed by the second, so that we really have had two successive impressions, of which one seems much more remote in time than it really was.  Or we may have dreamed something like the scene and forgotten the dream, or we may actually, in some not understood manner, have had a “prevision” of what is now actual, as when Shelley almost fainted on coming to a place near Oxford which he had beheld in a dream.

Of course, if this “prevision” could be verified in detail, we should come very near to dreams of the future fulfilled.  Such a thing—verification of a detail—led to the conversion of William Hone, the free-thinker and Radical of the early century, who consequently became a Christian and a pessimistic, clear-sighted Tory.  This tale of the déjà vu, therefore, leads up to the marvellous narratives of dreams simultaneous with, or prophetic of, events not capable of being guessed or inferred, or of events lost in the historical past, but, later, recovered from documents.

Of Hone’s affair there are two versions.  Both may be given, as they are short.  If they illustrate the déjà vu, they also illustrate the fond discrepancies of all such narratives. {24}

THE KNOT IN THE SHUTTER

“It is said that a dream produced a powerful effect on Hone’s mind.  He dreamt that he was introduced into a room where he was an entire stranger, and saw himself seated at a table, and on going towards the window his attention was somehow or other attracted to the window-shutter, and particularly to a knot in the wood, which was of singular appearance; and on waking the whole scene, and especially the knot in the shutter, left a most vivid impression on his mind.  Some time afterwards, on going, I think, into the country, he was at some house shown into a chamber where he had never been before, and which instantly struck him as being the identical chamber of his dream.  He turned directly to the window, where the same knot in the shutter caught his eye.  This incident, to his investigating spirit, induced a train of reflection which overthrew his cherished theories of materialism, and resulted in conviction that there were spiritual agencies as susceptible of proof as any facts of physical science; and this appears to have been one of the links in that mysterious chain of events by which, according to the inscrutable purposes of the Divine will, man is sometimes compelled to bow to an unseen and divine power, and ultimately to believe and live.”

“Another of the Christian friends from whom, in his later years, William Hone received so much kindness, has also furnished recollections of him.

“ . . . Two or three anecdotes which he related are all I can contribute towards a piece of mental history which, if preserved, would have been highly interesting.  The first in point of time as to his taste of mind, was a circumstance which shook his confidence in materialism, though it did not lead to his conversion.  It was one of those mental phenomena which he saw to be inexplicable by the doctrines he then held.

“It was as follows: He was called in the course of business into a part of London quite new to him, and as he walked along the street he noticed to himself that he had never been there; but on being shown into a room in a house where he had to wait some time, he immediately fancied that it was all familiar, that he had seen it before, ‘and if so,’ said he to himself, ‘there is a very peculiar knot in this shutter’.  He opened the shutter and found the knot.  ‘Now then,’ thought he, ‘here is something I cannot explain on my principles!’”

Indeed the occurrence is not very explicable on any principles, as a detail not visible without search was sought and verified, and that by a habitual mocker at anything out of the common way.  For example, Hone published a comic explanation, correct or not, of the famous Stockwell mystery.

Supposing Hone’s story to be true, it naturally conducts us to yet more unfamiliar, and therefore less credible dreams, in which the unknown past, present, or future is correctly revealed.

CHAPTER II

Veracious Dreams.  Past, Present and Future unknown Events “revealed”.  Theory of “Mental Telegraphy” or “Telepathy” fails to meet Dreams of the unknowable Future.  Dreams of unrecorded Past, how alone they can be corroborated.  Queen Mary’s Jewels.  Story from Brierre de Boismont.  Mr. Williams’s Dream before Mr. Perceval’s Murder.  Discrepancies of Evidence.  Curious Story of Bude Kirk.  Mr. Williams’s Version.  Dream of a Rattlesnake.  Discrepancies.  Dream of the Red Lamp.  “Illusions Hypnagogiques.”  The Scar in the Moustache.  Dream of the Future.  The Coral Sprigs.  Anglo-Saxon Indifference.  A Celtic Dream.  The Satin Slippers.  Waking Dreams.  The Dead Shopman.  Dreams in Swoons.

Perhaps nothing, not even a ghost, is so staggering to the powers of belief as a well-authenticated dream which strikes the bull’s eye of facts not known to the dreamer nor capable of being guessed by him.  If the events beheld in the dream are far away in space, or are remote in time past, the puzzle is difficult enough.  But if the events are still in the future, perhaps no kind of explanation except a mere “fluke” can even be suggested.  Say that I dream of an event occurring at a distance, and that I record or act on my dream before it is corroborated.  Suppose, too, that the event is not one which could be guessed, like the death of an invalid or the result of a race or of an election.  This would be odd enough, but the facts of which I dreamed must have been present in the minds of living people.  Now, if there is such a thing as “mental