ANIMAL GHOSTS
For a ghost to take the form of an animal is not at all unusual, and
it has been suggested that human ghosts when they appear in the guise
of bulls, dogs, sheep, or other animals are accounted for by being
"throw-backs of the spirit to a lower animal form."
Black dogs with glowing eyes like hot embers, phantom calves, white
rabbits, etc., are sometimes thought in Lincolnshire to haunt the
spots where murder or suicide has been committed. They are supposed to
be either spectres of the dead in brute form or demons, and in Denmark
there is a legend that pigs or goats, if buried alive in walls, turn
to spectres.
In Wales the belief exists that the devil can manifest as a pig, calf,
dog, or headless horse.
A woman once passing through a village in North Pembrokeshire at night
shouted, "Come out, you evil one!" and there appeared a white cat in
answer to her call. In the same country a certain Mr. David Walter was
passing two large stones called locally the Devil's Nags, accompanied
by a mastiff, when an apparition in the form of a huge dog appeared in
his path. He tried to set his own animal upon the other, but the
mastiff was frightened and would not attack the phantom. Thereupon
Walter picked up a stone and was about to throw it at the evil beast
when it was suddenly illumined by a circle of fire, and he knew it to
be one of the "infernal dogs of hell."
A black calf was said to haunt a stream in the same neighbourhood and
one night two villagers caught the animal and took it home. They locked
it up safely as they thought, but in the morning it had disappeared.
The Roaring Bull of Bagbury is a famous Shropshire ghost. Miss
Georgina Jackson recites the story as it was told by an old farmer
called Hayward.[155]
A very bad man lived at Bagbury Farm, and when he died it was said of
him that he had only done two good deeds in his life, one being to
give a waistcoat to a poor old man and the other a piece of bread and
cheese to a poor village lad. After he was dead, his ghost refused to
rest and haunted the farm buildings in the shape of a bull, roaring
till the boards, the shutters, and the tiles seemed about to fly off
the outhouses. It was quite impossible for anyone to live within range
of this roaring which usually began about nine or ten o'clock at
night, sometimes even earlier, and at last became so troublesome that
the people at the farmhouse sent for twelve parsons to lay the ghost.
When the parsons came "they got him under," but could not lay him, and
at last they drove him, still in the shape of a bull, into Hessington
Church. All the parsons carried candles, and one of them, who was
blind, knowing that there was danger from a stampede, placed his
lighted candle in his top-boot. It was a good thing that he did so,
for presently the animal made a great rush, and out went every candle
except that belonging to the blind parson who said, as though prepared
for the event, "You light your candles by mine." But before he was
laid the bull made such a "burst" that he cracked the wall of the
church from top to bottom, as hundreds of witnesses have asserted from
that day to this.
At last they secured the ghost "down into a snuffbox," as the custom is,
and he begged that he might be laid under Bagbury Bridge, declaring that
every mare that passed over the bridge should lose her foal and every
woman her child. This threat made them refuse his request, and they
laid him in the Red Sea, where he has to remain for a thousand years.
The knowledge that he was so far away did not prevent the villagers
being very chary of crossing Bagbury Bridge at night-time.
Another story of a man who turned into a bull after death is told of a
squire at Millidrope in Corve Dale. He was killed by a fall from one
of the upper windows of the Hall, and an indelible blood-stain marks
the spot. Unfortunately for his peace of mind, his estate, owing to
his own carelessness or to the malpractices of his trustees, went to
the wrong heir. Unable to rest in his grave owing to this piece of
injustice, the squire haunted his own parish, where he was frequently
seen in the guise of a _flayed bull_.[156]
Edmund Swifte tells a story of an animal ghost in the Tower, which
appeared while he was keeper of the Crown Jewels. The peculiar point
about the story is that this phantom animal was seen with fatal
results. One of the night sentries in the Jewel chamber was alarmed by
a figure like a huge bear issuing from beneath the door. He thrust at
it with his bayonet, which stuck in the door. Then he fell into a fit
and was carried senseless to the guard-room. His fellow sentry
declared that the man was neither asleep nor drunk, he himself having
seen him the moment before awake and sober. Swifte saw the man in the
guard-house after the incident, when he lay prostrated with terror,
and two or three days later the poor sentry was dead.[157]
In the outer Hebrides it is believed that demons take the form of
dogs, and a story is told of a priest's dog which was lying on the
hearth while his master was hearing confessions. Suddenly the animal
started up, annoyed beyond endurance by the atmosphere of ultra-piety
and, exclaiming, "If you liked me before, you never will again," he
vanished amidst a shower of sparks.
The Highlanders have also a legend of an ownerless black dog, which
caused all kinds of misadventure in the vicinity where he prowled. A
hunter shot at the dog with a silver bit, and the aim was so
successful that nothing more was seen of the animal. Suddenly a small
boy ran up to the hunter with a terrible story of his grandfather who
had died within sight of his home as though stricken by a gun-shot
wound, and on examination it was found indeed that the silver piece
was imbedded in his flesh. There was no further misfortune in the
village after this double event, but the tale has more of witchcraft
about it than ghostliness.
Samuel Drew, who was apprenticed to a shoemaker, had a curious
experience at St. Blazey in Cornwall. It is told in his life written
by his son.
"There were several of us boys and men, out about twelve o'clock on a
bright moonlight night. I think we were poaching. The party were in a
field adjoining the road leading from my master's to St. Austell, and
I was stationed outside the hedge to watch and give the alarm if any
intruder should appear. While thus occupied I heard what appeared to
be the sound of a horse approaching from the town, and I gave a
signal. My companions paused and came to the hedge where I was, to see
the passenger. They looked through the bushes and I drew myself close
to the hedge that I might not be observed. The sound increased, and
the supposed horseman seemed drawing near. The clatter of hoofs became
more and more distinct. We all looked to see what it was, and I was
seized with a strange indefinable feeling of dread: when, instead of a
horse, there appeared coming towards us, at an easy pace, but with the
same sound which first caught my ear, a creature about the height of a
large dog. It went close by me, and as it passed, it turned upon me
and my companions huge fiery eyes that struck terror to all our
hearts. The road where I stood branched off and on the left there was
a gate. Towards the gate the phantom moved, and without any apparent
obstruction, went at its regular trot, which we heard several minutes
after it had disappeared. Whatever it was, it put an end to our
occupation and we made the best of our way home.
"I have often endeavoured in later years, but without success, to
account for what I then heard and saw on natural principles. I am sure
there was no deception as to the facts. It was a night of unusual
brightness, occasioned by a cloudless full moon. The creature was
unlike any animal I had then seen, but from my present recollections
it had much the appearance of a bear, with a dark shaggy coat. Had it
not been for the unearthly lustre of its eyes, and its passing through
the gate as it did, there would be no reason to suppose it anything
more than an animal perhaps escaped from some menagerie. That it _did_
pass through the gate without pause or hesitation I am perfectly
clear. Indeed we all saw it, and saw that the gate was shut, from
which we were not distant more than about twenty or thirty yards. The
bars were too close to admit the passage of an animal of half its
apparent bulk, yet this creature went through without an effort or
variation of its pace."
Peele Castle in the Isle of Man is haunted by an apparition called the
Manx dog, a shaggy spaniel, which was said to walk in every part of the
building, and to lie in the guard-chamber before the fire by
candlelight. In days gone by the soldiers were accustomed to the
apparition, but all the same they suspected it was an evil spirit, and
all were afraid to be left alone in its presence, and were also careful
of the language they used lest they should receive an injury if they
swore before it. The animal used to appear and return by a passage in
the church, and as this passage was also used by the soldier who had to
deliver the keys to the captain, and he was terrified at the thought of
meeting the phantom, it was arranged that he should have a companion,
and after that they went two by two, never singly.
One night one of the soldiers who had been drinking and was in a
bragging mood, declared that he would carry back the key alone,
though it was not really his turn to go. He would not listen to the
others, who tried to dissuade him. Blustering and swearing, he
snatched up the bunch of keys and marched off. Presently a great noise
was heard outside, but the soldiers were too frightened to go out and
see what was taking place. In staggered the adventurous boaster,
struck dumb with horror at what he had seen, nor could he by sign or
word explain what had happened to him, but died, in terrible agony,
his features distorted and his limbs writhing.
After this occurrence no one would venture through the passage, which
was soon bricked up, and the apparition never appeared again in the
castle.
Hergest Court, in Herefordshire, was haunted by a demon dog said to
have belonged to Black Vaughan. Black Vaughan was himself said to be
the ghost of the member of the family whose monument rests in Kingston
Church. So powerful was this ghost that he appeared in daylight and
upset farmers' waggons, or rode with the old wives to Kingston Market.
Once he was said to have appeared in church in the form of a bull, and
the usual elaborate form of exorcism was required to dislodge him, in
which twelve parsons with twelve candles had to remain in the church
until they had "read him down into a silver snuff-box." The demon dog
always appeared as a warning that death was nigh to one of the Vaughan
family.
The Black Dog of Hergest was famous all over the country-side, and no
one ventured to enter the room he was said to haunt. At night he
clanked a chain, but at other times he was seen wandering about
without one, often near a pond on the high road to Kingston.
Another phantom dog-story comes from the parish of Dean Prior, a narrow
woodland valley watered by a stream. Below a beautiful cascade is a deep
hollow called the Hound's Pool. At one time there lived near to this
spot a skilful weaver. After his death he was seen by his family working
as diligently as ever at his loom, and, this being regarded as uncanny,
application was made to the vicar of the parish as to what steps were to
be taken to remove the apparition. The parson called at the cottage
where the weaver had lived and, hearing the noise of the shuttle in the
upstairs room, called to the ghost of the weaver to descend.
"I will," replied the weaver's voice, "as soon as I have worked out my
shuttle."
"No," replied the vicar, "you have worked long enough. Come down at
once."
So the phantom appeared, and the vicar, taking a handful of earth from
the churchyard, threw it in his face. In a moment the apparition
turned into a black hound. "Follow me," said the vicar, and the dog
followed to the gate of the wood, where a mighty wind was blowing. The
vicar picked up a nutshell with a hole in it and leading the hound to
the pool below the cascade, said, "Take this, and dip out the pool
with it. When it is empty thou shalt rest."
The hound still haunts the spot, and to those who can see is ever at
work on the waters of the pool.[158]
Similarly Tregeagle, the famous Demon of Dosmery Pool, in Cornwall, is
doomed to empty the pool with a limpet shell which has a large hole in
it.
A story is told of a talking Dog which haunted Dobb Park Lodge.
A treasure-seeker who went to explore the underground vaults at the
Lodge saw a great, black, rough dog as large as any two or three
mastiffs, which said, "No, my man, as you've come here, you must do
one of three things, or you'll never see daylight again. You must
either drink all the liquor there is in that glass, open that chest,
or draw that sword."
The chest was iron-bound and too heavy to move, the drink was scalding
hot, and the sword glittered and flashed like lightning wielded by an
unseen hand. Fortunately the treasure-seeker escaped after
extraordinary experiences with his bare life, returning as
empty-handed as he came, and since then no one has ventured into the
ruined vaults of Dobb Park Lodge, and the chest of gold is said to be
still there, waiting for an adventurer who can brave the terrors of
the "Talking Dog" and his surroundings.
The neighbourhood of Burnley used to be haunted by a phantom locally
called "Trash" or "Striker." These names came from the sounds made by
the animal which had the appearance of a large dog with broad feet,
shaggy hair, drooping ears and "eyes as large as saucers." His paws made
a splashing noise as of old shoes on a muddy road, and now and again the
brute emitted deep howls. His presence was considered a certain sign of
death in the family of anyone who caught sight of the apparition. If
followed by anyone the animal began to walk backwards, keeping his eyes
on the pursuer. At the slightest inattention on the part of his
companion the phantom vanished. Sometimes he plunged into a pool of
water, at others he dropped at the feet of the pursuer with a curious
splashing sound. Some attempted to strike the animal, but there was no
substance present to receive the blow, though the apparition remained in
the same position as before the blow was delivered.
Some animal ghosts appear in different shapes at different times.
The Manor of Woodstock was haunted in 1649 by an apparition described
by several witnesses whose narratives may be found in Dr. Plott's
"Natural History of Oxfordshire."
Commissioners took up residence at the Manor House on 13 October,
1649, but heard nothing of the ghost until three days later when
"there came, as they thought, _somewhat_ into the bedchamber (where
two of the commissioners and their servants lay), in the shape of a
dog, which, going under their beds, did as it were gnaw their bed
cords, but on the morrow finding them whole and a quarter of beef,
which lay on the ground, untouched they began to entertain other
thoughts." On the following day, the 17th, some evil spirit hurled the
chairs and stools up and down the Presence Chamber, "from whence it
came into the two chambers where the commissioners and their servants
lay and hoisted their beds' feet so much higher than their heads that
they thought they should have been turned over and over; and then let
them fall down with such force, that their bodies rebounded from the
bed a good distance."
The next day also a mysterious visitor appeared to be present, which
fetched the warming-pan out of the withdrawing-room and made so much
noise "that they thought five bells could not have made more." On the
20th and 21st of October various phenomena occurred, and then came a
respite until the 25th, on the night of which, amongst other curious
sounds and sights, there was "a very great noise as if forty pieces of
ordnance had been shot off together." Peace was restored until the 1st
of November when "something came into the withdrawing-room, treading,
as they conceived, much like a bear, which at first only walked about
a quarter of an hour: at length it made a great noise about the table
and threw the warming-pan so violently, that it quite spoiled it. It
threw also glass and great stones at them again, and the bones of
horses, and all so violently that the bedstead and walls were bruised
by them." This night they set candles all about the rooms, and made
great fires up to the mantle-trees of the chimneys, but all were put
out, nobody knew how. Nor was this all. For in spite of the fact that
one of the commissioners had the boldness to ask in the name of God
what _it_ was, what _it_ would have, and what they had done, that they
should be disturbed in this manner, and the questions, although
evoking no answer, caused a temporary cessation of noise, _it_
returned bringing seven devils worse than _itself_. Whereupon one of
the watchers lighted a candle and set it between two rooms in the
doorway, on which another of them "fixing his eyes saw the similitude
of a hoof, striking the candle and candlestick into the middle of the
bedchamber and afterwards making three scrapes on the snuff to put it
out. Upon this the same person was so bold as to draw his sword, but
he had scarce got it out, when there was another invisible hand had
hold of it too, and tugged with him for it and prevailing, struck him
so violently with the pummel that he was stunned with the blow."
This was too much, and two days later the commissioners and their men
removed out of the house, unable to stand the strain they were
undergoing any longer.
An apparition of a lady in the form of a colt is somewhat unusual, but
has been seen, if we may believe the statement of a woman called Sarah
Mason. Sarah also saw the ghost of a man who hanged himself and came
back afterwards in the form of a large black dog.
The story of Obrick's Colt[159] concerned a lady who was buried with
all her jewels and whose corpse was afterwards robbed by the clerk.
She haunted the spot, it was said, in the shape of a colt, and the
guilty clerk, meeting the phantom animal late one night in a narrow
lane, went down on his knees, and said earnestly, "Abide, Satan,
abide. I am a righteous man and a psalm-singer." The clerk was called
Obitch or Holbeach, from which the ghost is supposed to have taken the
name of Obrick's Colt. An old woman in the village declared that
"Obitch used to say that he saw the colt as natural as any Christian,
and he used to get up against the stile for him to get up on top of
his back, and at last the colt grew so bold that folks saw him in the
daytime." Holbeach, if that was his real name, never again knew peace
of mind on this earth.
On the 21st of January, 1879, a labourer had taken some luggage from
one Shropshire village to another, and on the return journey, his
horse being tired, he reached a canal bridge some way from home about
ten o'clock at night. To his horror a huge black creature with
gleaming white eyes jumped out of the hedge and settled on the horse's
back. He beat at the phantom with his whip, which, to his
astonishment, instead of meeting with resistance went through the
apparition. The terrified horse broke into a canter and tore home with
the strange creature clinging to his back.
The adventure was much discussed in the neighbouring villages, and
some days later the labourer's master was called upon by a policeman
who had somehow got knowledge of an account that he had been robbed
when crossing the canal bridge in question late one evening. The
policeman was told there had been no robbery, and a version of the
tale as it had happened was given him.
"Was that all?" he cried in disappointed tones. "I know what that was.
It was the man-monkey, sir, as _does_ come at that bridge ever since a
man was drowned in the canal at that spot."[160]
The following story was told to Bérenger-Feraud[161] and happened at a
country house on the plateau of the Garde near to Toulon. One evening
a woman was sitting by the side of her father who had been lying
dangerously ill in bed for some days with a disease which the doctors
could not identify. The neighbours came in to offer their services, to
keep watch over the sick man so that his daughter, who had spent
several nights without any sleep, could go and lie down to rest. She
thanked them but refused to do so.
Nevertheless they insisted on remaining, and as it was cold she
invited them to sit round the fire in the kitchen to warm themselves.
As her father seemed to be asleep for a little while she went into the
kitchen to speak to her visitors.
Of a sudden they heard the sick man give a terrible cry of pain and
fright. They all hurried into his room to see what was the matter, and
there, just above the old man's bed, was a huge stinging-fly which
hovered round and round him, buzzing in a horrible manner.
They tried to catch the dangerous insect, but this was not an easy
matter, for it buzzed so loudly that it positively menaced those who
came near it. From time to time it hurled itself at the limbs of the
sick man, and every time it touched him he gave vent to a shriek of
pain. Those who were near him could see large black blisters rising at
the spots where the stinging-fly attacked him.
At last one of the men who had more courage than the others beat down
the gigantic insect with his hat. They picked up its body with a pair
of tongs and threw it out of the house, shutting the door tightly so
that it could not return to its attack.
The deed accomplished, they looked at one another terrified at what
had taken place, and to their horror they could plainly hear the buzz
of the insect outside. The noise was so loud that the windows
positively rattled. Then a howl arose outside, a cry so strange that
no one present had ever heard the like, and after that all was silent.
They went back to the bedside of the sick man, who had suffered
severely, and who told them that he had been suddenly awakened by this
horrible stinging-fly, which had hummed in his ears and struck at his
body, in such a terrifying manner that he felt sure it must be an evil
spirit.
Now that the insect had been captured and put out of the house he felt
better, but none of the visitors dared to leave the cottage, feeling
sure that a sorcerer was mixed up in the affair. They passed the night
sitting round the fire, carefully avoiding all mention of the matter,
as they were afraid that the noise of buzzing and humming would begin
afresh.
The next morning at sunrise, they decided to open the door, and then
they saw the huge insect lying on the ground just outside. But the
mysterious part of it was that those who were courageous enough to
look at it closely, stated that it was not the real insect that was
lying there but merely its outer shell or covering, just like the skin
sloughed by a grasshopper and left behind when it changes its shape.
This then was taken to be proof positive that the stinging-fly was not
what it had pretended to be, but was a wizard in disguise, which had
intended to do harm to the old invalid, and the horrible cry which had
been heard when the insect had been thrown out of doors was only the
howl of rage uttered by the wizard at the failure of his wicked designs.
A woman at Toulon told the following story in 1888, saying it had
happened in her presence when she was a little girl. Her father, whose
name was Isidore, was an omnibus driver and for many years had lived
with his own sister in peace and friendliness. One day, however, they
fell into an argument and had such a violent quarrel that they decided
that they could no longer live together. Isidore, however, felt
grieved to think that matters had come to such a pass between himself
and the sister he had always loved, and he told a friend about the
affair. The friend answered, "You have quarrelled with your sister,
because one of your neighbours, who is a sorcerer, has cast a spell
over you. To end the enchantment you must give your horses a jolly
good hiding to-morrow morning, and then you will see the result. The
person who has bewitched you will be taken ill and will bear about his
or her body the traces of the blows you give to your horses." Next day
Isidore whipped up his horses, as he had been told to do, and he went
on slashing them all day long. In the evening he went to bed feeling
as though he had done a praiseworthy deed. The next day his sister
came to see him and spoke to him quite affectionately, and they
decided to bury the hatchet just as though no quarrel had taken place.
Then Isidore, to his surprise, heard that a neighbour, of whom he had
been very fond until then, and whom he had not in the least suspected
of witchcraft, had been taken ill. He hastened to visit her, and found
she was in bed, and that she showed traces of having been beaten. As
soon as he entered the room to condole with her she said to him
bitterly, "Why on earth did you strike your horses so violently? What
harm had the poor beasts done to you?"
This was taken as proof that the neighbour was a witch, and that the
weals on her body were the stigmata of the blows which Isidore had
given his horses, and he was convinced that this woman had tried to
separate him from his sister through sheer jealousy.
The well-known ghost of Tedworth, Wiltshire, called the "Drummer of
Tedworth," sometimes took the form of an animal, or at least was heard
making animal sounds. The following description is taken from Joseph
Glanvill's "Sadducismus Triumphatus."
On one occasion the village blacksmith stayed in the house sleeping
with the footman, hoping he might hear the supernatural noises and be
cured of his incredulity when "there came a noise in the room as if
one had been shoeing a horse, and somewhat came, as it were, with a
pair of pincers," snipping away at the sceptical smith. Next day the
ghost came panting like a dog out of breath, and a woman who was
present, taking up a stick to strike at it, the weapon "was caught
suddenly out of her hand and thrown away: and company coming up, the
room was presently filled with a bloody noisome smell," and was very
hot, though there was no fire, and the winter was severe. "It
continued scratching for an hour and a half and then went into the
next room, when it knocked a little and seemed to rattle a chain."
Sometimes the phantom purred like a cat and it was described by a
servant as "a great body with two red and glaring eyes."
The Rev. Joseph Glanvill himself went to the haunted house in January,
1662, and was convinced that the noises were made by a demon or
spirit. He heard a strange scratching, as he went upstairs, which
appeared to come from behind the bolster of the children's bed. It
was loud scratching, and when he thrust his hand behind the bolster at
the point from which the noise seemed to come it ceased but began in
another place. When he removed his hand, however, it began again in
the same place as before. "I had been told that it would imitate
noises," says Glanvill, "and made trial by scratching several times
upon the sheet, as five, and seven and ten, which it followed, and
still stopped at my number. I searched under and behind the bed,
turned up the clothes to the bed cords, grasped the bolster, sounded
the wall behind, and made all the search I possibly could." But all
his endeavours were fruitless; he could discover nothing. There was
neither cat nor dog in the room. After scratching for more than half
an hour, the phantom went into the midst of the bed, under the
children, "and then seemed to pant very loudly, like a dog out of
breath. I put my hand upon the place and felt the bed bearing up
against it, as if something within had thrust it up." The motion it
caused by this panting was so strong that it shook the walls and made
the windows rattle; yet this strange animal ghost was never explained.
At Epworth parsonage, Lincolnshire, when the Rev. Samuel Wesley, father
of John Wesley, was rector, there is a well-known story of the haunting
of the parsonage. Robert Brown the servant heard, among other phenomena,
"as it were the gobbling of a turkey-cock close to the bedside."
The dog, a large mastiff, showed enormous fear of the strange
incidents and apparitions. "When the disturbances continued he used to
bark and leap and snap on one side and the other, and that frequently
before any person in the room heard any noise at all. But after two or
three days he used to tremble and creep away before the noise began.
And by that the family knew it was at hand."
Ewshott House, in Crondall, Hampshire, was haunted by a ghost that
made a noise exactly as though a flock of sheep from the paddock had
rushed by the windows on the gravel drive. In the morning, however,
there were no signs of sheep having passed that way.
Willington Mill was haunted by several spectres in the shape of
animals. The mill stood on a tidal stream which ran into the Tyne near
to Wallsend. The account of strange happenings there was published by
the "Newcastle Weekly Leader" many years ago. One of the servants once
saw a lady in a lavender-coloured dress pass the kitchen door, go
upstairs, and vanish into one of the bedrooms, but little notice was
taken of this apparition; indeed it was almost forgotten when
something else happened which drew attention to it. A certain Thomas
Davidson was courting this servant and was waiting for her to come out
of the mill and join him in a moonlight ramble, when, looking towards
the building, he distinctly saw a whitish cat run out and presently it
came close to his feet.
Thinking the strange puss was very forward, he gave her a kick, but
encountered no solid matter and puss continued her walk, disappearing
from his sight a moment later. Returning to the window, and looking in
the same direction, Davidson again saw the animal. This time it came
hopping like a rabbit, coming quite as close to his feet as before. He
determined to have a good rap at it, and took deliberate aim: but, as
before, his foot went through it and he felt nothing. Again he followed
it, and it disappeared at the same spot as its predecessor. The third
time he went to the window and in a few moments it made another
appearance, not like a cat or rabbit now but as large as a sheep and
brightly luminous. On it came and Davidson stood rooted to the spot as
though paralysed, but the animal moved on and vanished as before.
Mr. Proctor, who lived at the mill, on hearing Davidson's account,
said that he had seen the animal on various occasions.
After this experience ghosts were frequently seen and heard of at the
mill. The noises were dreadful, sometimes sounding like a galloping
donkey, at others like falling fire-irons. Doors creaked and sticks
crackled as though burning, and the rapping became almost incessant.
Sometimes the lavender-gowned lady appeared, and at another time
several of the inmates of the mill saw a bald-headed old man in a
flowing robe like a surplice. Spectral animals always formed an
important feature of the haunting.
In November, 1841, a gentleman paid a visit to the place and was
confronted by the figure of an animal about two feet high, which
appeared in a window. After careful search nothing was found, though the
animal was seen in the window by others from the grounds for half an
hour, after which it slowly faded away. A two-year-old child saw a ghost
kitten, while Davidson's aunt thought the spectre looked like a white
pocket handkerchief, knotted at four corners, which danced up and down,
leaping as high as the first floor window. This lady was one day
standing by the kitchen table when she was startled by the bark of a
dog, and two paws were laid heavily on her shoulders, so that she had to
lean against the table for support. No dog, however, was found in the
house. On several occasions the children, though nothing had been said
to them about ghosts, found amusement in chasing up and down the stairs
some animal they described either as a "funny cat or a bonny monkey."
In 1853, an attempt was made to discover the secret of the mystery of
the mill by a clairvoyante, who in her trance distinctly saw, the
"lady like a shadow, with eyes but no sight in them," as she described
her, as well as a number of animals. When questioned about these, she
answered, "One is like a monkey and another like a dog. Had the lady
dogs and monkeys? They all go about the house. What is that other one?
It is not a pussy, it runs very fast and gets amongst feet. It is a
rabbit but a very quick one." When asked whether the animals were
real, the medium replied in her quaint way, "We don't touch them to
see, we would not like a bite."
Beyond this there appears to have been no solution as to the mystery
of the haunted mill, although the medium declared that the trouble
"came from the cellar."[162]
A writer in "Notes and Queries,"[163] H. Wedgewood by name, visited
Mr. Proctor in 1873-4 to ask him the truth about the Willington Mill
ghost, and he told her that he had seen a tabby cat in the furnace
room. There was nothing unusual in the animal's appearance, and it
would not have caught his attention particularly had it not begun to
move. But then instead of walking like an ordinary cat it wriggled
along like a snake. He went close to it and followed it across the
room, holding his hand about a foot above it, until it passed straight
into the solid wall.
The well-known Cornish tradition says that if a young woman dies
neglected after being betrayed by her lover, she haunts him after her
death in the form of a white hare. The false lover is continuously
pursued by the phantom. At times it may rescue him from danger, but in
the end it is the cause of his death.
The following story of a phantom hare pursuing a false lover to his
death is told by Robert Hunt in "Popular Romances of the West of
England."[164]
A young farmer settled at a fine new farmhouse and a peasant's daughter
was placed there in charge of the dairy. The young farmer fell deeply in
love with her and she with him, and he betrayed her under a promise of
marriage, but his family refused to agree to the alliance taking place,
and provided a bride for him suitable to his station. The dairymaid was
sent away ignominiously when it was known she was about to become a
mother. One morning the corpse of a newly-born infant was found in the
farmer's field and the dairymaid was accused of strangling her child,
and was finally convicted of murder and executed.
But ever after that day ill-fortune pursued the young farmer who had
behaved in such a cowardly way, and though he removed to another part of
the country, none of his projects prospered. Gradually he took to drink
to drown his secret sorrows. He generally went out at dusk and it was
noticed that a white hare constantly crossed his path. The animal was
seen by many of the villagers to dart under the hoofs of his horse, and
the terrified steed rushed madly forward whenever this phantom appeared.
A day came when the young farmer was found drowned in a pool at the
bottom of a forsaken mine, and the frightened horse was still grazing
near the mouth of the pit into which his master had fallen.
The woman he had betrayed and left to die a shameful death, having
assumed the shape of a white hare, had haunted the perjured and
false-hearted farmer to his death.
It is said that fatal accidents in mines are often foreshadowed by the
appearance of a white hare or rabbit. At Wheal Vor, writes Mr. Hunt,
in "Popular Romances of the West of England," it has always been and
is now believed that a white rabbit appears in one of the engine
houses when an accident may be looked for in the mine. The men say
that they have chased the phantom animals without being able to catch
them, and on one occasion the rabbit ran into a "windbore" which lay
on the ground and escaped. Similarly in a French mine one of the
miners saw a white object run into an iron pipe and hide there. He
hastened forward and stopped up both ends of the tube, calling to a
companion to examine the pipe. But the animal ghost had disappeared
and nothing remained to explain what had taken place.
The devil appeared in the form of a hare at the hanging of two men on
Warminster Down in 1813, it was said. At Longbridge the devil appeared
in the form of a dog one Palm Sunday, according to the account of a
labourer, who when questioned as to how this was proved, exclaimed,
"_Sum'at_ was there anyhow, and we all fled!"
A farmer in South Wilts who died about 1860, threatened to revisit his
farm on a lonely moor and run about in the shape of a rat. The story
does not say what he expected to gain by choosing this particular
animal for transformation purposes.
Superstition gives to white birds a particular power of conveying omens.
A small white bird plays a part in warning an old harper in Wales of the
destruction of a prince's palace, whither the bard had been invited to
perform at festivities held on the occasion of the birth of an heir.
Tradition relates that Bala Lake was formed as a means of submerging a
palace where lived a cruel and wicked prince, who practised oppression
and injustice upon poor farmers of the district. The tyrant often heard
a ghostly voice urging him to desist from his evil ways and saying,
"Vengeance will come," but he treated the warning with contempt.
On the occasion of his son's birth, there was great rejoicing at the
palace, and the poor harper was called in to play to the guests. Mirth,
wine, feasting, and dancing continued till a late hour, and during the
interval in which the harper was allowed to rest, he retired into a
quiet corner, where, to his astonishment, he heard a whisper in his ear,
"Vengeance, vengeance!" Turning to discover whence the sound came, he
observed a tiny white bird hovering about him, urging him, as it were,
to follow. He fell in with the creature's wishes without stopping to
fetch his harp, and the bird led him beyond the palace walls, still
singing in a plaintive note the word "Vengeance, vengeance!" Over
marshland, through thickets, across streams and up ravines this strange
pair wandered, the bird seemingly choosing the safest path for her
companion, and growing ever more insistent in her cries of "Vengeance,
vengeance!" At last they came to the summit of a hill some distance from
the palace. Utterly weary the harper ventured to stop and rest, and the
bird's voice was heard no more, but as he listened he could distinguish
the loud murmur of a brook.
Suddenly he awoke to the fact that he had allowed himself to be led
away foolishly, and he attempted to retrace his steps. In the dark,
however, he missed his way and was forced to await daylight. Then to
his surprise he turned his eyes upon the valley in which the palace
had stood and discovered that it was no longer to be seen, for the
waters had flooded the face of the land, and on the placid lake that
lay in the valley his harp was floating.
Another story of birds that foreshadowed a calamity is told about
Yorkshire. A writer in "Notes and Queries"[165] passed through the
district of Kettering on September 6, and noticed an immense flock of
birds which flew round and round, uttering dismal cries. He spoke of
the matter to his servant, who told him the birds were called the
"Seven Whistlers," and that whenever they were heard a great calamity
might be expected. The last time he had heard them was the night
before the great Hartley Colliery explosion. Curiously enough the
writer, on taking up the newspaper the following morning, saw an
announcement of a terrible colliery explosion at Wigan.
On the Bosphorus the boatmen say, with reference to certain flocks of
birds which fly ceaselessly up and down the channel, never resting on
land or water, that they are the souls of the damned, doomed to
perpetual motion.
A strange bird-ghost is connected with the lake and house of Glasfryn.
On a certain evening, Grassi, which is the phantom's name, forgot to
close the well and the waters overflowed and formed a lake. There she
wanders at night bemoaning her carelessness. She also visits the house
as a tall lady with well-marked features, large, bright eyes and
dressed all in white. Another version of the story is that when the
water overflowed and the lake was formed, the fairies seized Grassi
and changed her into a swan and she continued to live by the waters
for more than a century and died still lamenting her lot. Another
version runs that the lady was changed into a swan as a punishment for
haunting the house.
Holt Castle, in Worcestershire, is said to have been haunted by a
mysterious lady in black who walked through a passage which led to the
attics, while the cellar was in the possession of a phantom bird, not
unlike a raven, which occasionally pounced upon the servants who went
to draw beer or cider from the casks there. By flapping his wings, the
unholy bird extinguished the candle of the adventuresome human being
who invaded his domain, and then vanished, leaving his victim
prostrated with fear.
York Castle was the scene in which an extraordinary ghost took animal
shape. The story is told in the Memoirs of Sir John Reresby.
"One of my soldiers being on guard about eleven in the night at the
gate of Clifford Tower, the very night after a witch had been
arraigned, he heard a great noise in the castle; and going to the
porch there saw a scroll of paper creep from under the floor, which,
as he imagined by moonshine, turned first into the shape of a monkey,
and thence assumed the form of a turkeycock, which passed to and fro
by him. Surprised at this, he went to the prison and called the
under-keeper, who came and saw the 'scroll' dance up and down, and
creep under the door, where there was scarce an opening of the
thickness of half a crown. This extraordinary story I had from the
mouth of both one and the other."
Among the curiously shaped phantoms are those which have an important
part of their anatomy lacking, and most common of all are the ghosts,
human and animal, that are seen without a head. Indeed the belief in
headless spectres, both of equine and canine beings, is remarkably
widespread throughout England.
The Rev. Richard Dodge, a Cornish clergyman, who lived near Looe, was
an exorcist, and was said to be able "to drive along evil spirits of
various shapes, pursuing them with his whip." One day his services
were commanded by a Mr. Mills, Rector of Lanreath, who said that
labourers had been startled by an apparition of a man in black garb
driving a carriage drawn by headless horses. Mr. Dodge met Mr. Mills,
but as they saw no apparition, they parted to return to their
respective homes. Mr. Dodge's horse grew restive and refused to
proceed, so he, thinking something uncanny was about to take place,
allowed the animal to return to the spot where he had parted from Mr.
Mills, whom, to his distress, he found lying prostrate on the ground
with the spectre and his black coach and headless horses beside him.
Jumping down to assist his friend, Dodge uttered a prayer, and the
spectre screaming, "Dodge is come, I must be gone," whipped up the
ghost horses and vanished into the night.
Spectre horsemen are common and one is said to haunt Wyecoller Hall.
The ghost is dressed in the costume of the Stuart period, and the
trappings of the horse are of uncouth description. On windy nights the
horseman is heard dashing up to the Hall. The rider dismounts, makes
his way up the stairs into a room on the first landing, whence
presently screams and groans issue. Suddenly the horseman reappears
and gallops off, the horse appearing wild with rage, its nostrils
streaming fire. The tradition is that one of the Cunliffes of
Billington, for long the owners of Wyecoller Hall, near Colne,
murdered his wife and reappears every year as a spectre horseman in
the home of his victim. She is said to have predicted the extinction
of the family, a prediction long since fulfilled.
The midnight hunter and his headless hounds are often to be seen in
Cornwall, and the Abbot's Way, on Dartmoor, is said to be a favourite
spot for their visitations. Sir Francis Drake was supposed to drive a
hearse into Plymouth by night, followed by a pack of headless, but
nevertheless howling, hounds. On Cheney Downs in the parish of St.
Teath, ghostly hounds said to have belonged to an old squire called
Cheney, were often seen and heard, especially in rough weather.
Herne, the ghostly hunter of Windsor Forest, has his counterpart in
the _Grand Veneur_ of Fontainebleau. While hunting in his favourite
forest, Henry II of France was suddenly startled by the sound of
horns, and the cries of huntsmen and the barking of dogs. At first
they sounded far away, but soon they came close by. Some of the
company in advance of the king "saw a great black man among the
bushes," crying in sepulchral tones, "M'attendez-vous?" or
"M'entendez-vous?" or "Amendez-vous." The king, startled, inquired of
the foresters and peasants what they knew of the apparition. He was
informed that they had frequently seen the rider, accompanied by a
pack of hounds, which hunted at full cry, but never did any harm.
Dan gives Pierre Matthieu's version of the story and adds, "I know
what several authors narrate concerning the hunt of Saint Hubert,
which they declare is heard in various parts of the forest. Nor do I
ignore what they say of the spectre called the 'Whipper,' which was
supposed to appear in the time of Charles IX in the forest of Lyons,
and which left the mark of the lash on several people. Nor do I doubt
that demons may wander in the forest as well as in the air. But I know
well as regards the 'Grand Veneur' nothing is certain, least of all
the circumstances in which, according to the reports of the authors,
this phantom appears, and the words of which he makes use."[166]
The spectre huntsman chasing the wild doe and the headless hounds in
full cry are amongst the many prominent demon superstitions still extant
and the chief legends concerning them, with their variants, are
mentioned by Charles Hardwick in "Traditions, Superstitions, and
Folk-lore."[167] The appearance of these and other animal spectres,
however, has never been satisfactorily explained, and the question that
naturally occurs to the student after reading such stories is whether
animals are able to send forth astral or phantasmal doubles in a manner
similar to that in which it is believed human beings can project them.
FOOTNOTES:
[155] "Shropshire Folk-lore," pp. 108-9.
[156] "Shropshire Folk-lore," p. 642.
[157] "Notes and Queries," 2nd Series, Vol. X., pp. 192-3.
[158] "Notes and Queries," December 28, 1850, p. 515.
[159] Jackson, G. E., "Shropshire Folk-lore," pp. 108-10.
[160] "Shropshire Folk-lore," pp. 106-7.
[161] "Superstitions et Survivances," 1896, Vol. V, pp. 19-20.
[162] "Real Ghost Stories," pp. 261-75.
[163] Sixth Series, Vol. VII, January 6, 1883, pp. 12-13.
[164] 1881, pp. 377-8.
[165] October 21, 1871.
[166] Dan, "Le Tresor des Merveilles de Fontainebleau."
[167] 1872, pp. 153 _et seq._