Source of authenticity: “Ladies’ Cabinet,” 1835, and elsewhere
Cause of haunting: Murder
The “Ladies Cabinet” for 1835 contains an account of a haunting in
Merioneth that seems to me of sufficient psychic interest to record.
Hence I append it; but since the original text is a trifle too
intricate in places, I have taken the liberty to tell the story more or
less in my own words:
“In the summer of 1832 I was on a walking tour in Wales; in selecting,
as the principal scene of my operations, Merioneth, and chancing one
evening to be overtaken by a storm, when midway between Dolgelly and
Bala, I was speedily placed in the most unpleasant of predicaments. To
go on I was afraid, to turn back was impossible; what could I do? The
night was dark, the rain almost tropical, and the roadway so broken up
with furrows that I could only grope along with the utmost difficulty;
whilst the frequent windings, steep ascents, and sharp declivities not
only added to my embarrassment, but greatly increased my weariness. At
every few yards I either plunged into a miniature morass or, stumbling
over a boulder, found myself smarting in the centre of a gorse bush.
“At length I grew desperate--human nature could stand it no longer--and
resolving to perish with the cold rather than flounder on under such
pitiable conditions, I threw myself down on a rock and prepared to lie
there till daybreak.
“It is possible I had remained in this position for ten or so minutes,
when I was roused to a sense of deliverance by the bright glow of a
lamp, and starting up to my feet, I discovered I was no longer alone.
Confronting me was the figure of a short man, wrapped in a shaggy
great-coat, and wearing a slouched hat. He was holding a lantern in
his hand. By a series of pantomimic gestures he assured me that his
intentions were amicable, and that he was anxious to guide me to some
place of shelter where I should have a more comfortable pallet than a
bare rock.
“I accepted his offer, though not without some misgivings, as I could
not remember ever having met with any one quite so uncouth or bizarre.
“Turning abruptly to the right he struck across a wide moor covered
with gorse and innumerable boulders, and so studded with pools of water
that I seemed to be in a perpetual state of wading. Emerging from this,
we wended our way along the side of a precipice, at the bottom of which
roared one of those mountain torrents so characteristic of all parts of
Wales.
“Beckoning to me to follow, my guide mysteriously disappeared, and
peering over the edge of the chasm, I perceived him, to my amazement,
making his descent by an almost invisible and perpendicular pathway.
For a second or so I hesitated, and then, making up my mind to brave
anything rather than remain by myself in such an unfamiliar and
dangerous neighbourhood, I gingerly lowered myself over the brink, and,
after a few tumbles, succeeded in overtaking him just as he arrived at
the bottom.
“We now found ourselves in a valley of stygian darkness, and of such
restricted dimensions that the spray from the river bathed me from head
to foot. My companion pressed resolutely on, and, maintaining the same
extraordinary and uncanny silence, conducted me to a recess in the
hillside where the outlines of a bare, dismantled house gradually arose
to greet us. It was merely a pile of ruins, old, yet naked, without
any of those evidences of vegetation one usually associates with the
antique. I particularly noticed this deficiency; it impressed and
perplexed me. If moss and lichens grew elsewhere--why not here?
“The situation of the house was strikingly romantic and weird--indeed,
one could not well imagine a more dismal spot. A giant mass of black
rock reared itself in the background like a Brobdingnagian bat. In the
foreground, and at so close a distance that the spray blowing madly
over my face and clothes drenched me to the skin, rushed a seething
mass of sable water, whilst to accentuate all this Avernian horror,
the wind whistled demoniacally, and the rain fell with ever-increasing
fury. Turning to my guide, I impatiently requested him ‘to move on,’
and take me with the greatest expedition to the nearest available
hostelry.
“In reply he took off his hat, and, thrusting his monstrous head
forward, revealed to my horror-stricken gaze a shapeless, sodden mass
of black flesh!
“The cause of his silence was now obvious--he couldn’t speak because he
had no mouth; but neither had he eyes, ears, or nose; nothing but that
awful, unmeaning, rotund protuberance.
“I stood aghast, too terrified to stir, almost too terrified to
breathe, with the hideous Thing looming there before me, and the
booming of the river behind. It was a ghastly situation.
“The creature advanced an inch--my blood turned to ice; it raised its
arms--my soul sickened within me; it lunged suddenly forward--and--fell
right through me. As it did so I heard a fiendish chuckle, which, dying
slowly out, gave way to a succession of blood-curdling groans that
seemed to proceed from the interior of the ruins. The figure, however,
was nowhere to be seen; it must have dematerialised on the spot.
“Very much relieved at this, though still considerably frightened,
I was now able to use my limbs, and turning my back on the ghostly
building, I felt my way along the bank of the river. I dare not glance
at the boiling foam, the very sound of it made my flesh creep; nor did
I feel in any degree safe till a winding of the footpath brought me
to a bridge, on the opposite side of which I saw the twinkling lights
of many houses. I was now, once again, in the land of the living,
and a substantial meal by a cosy fire helped, in a good measure, to
dissipate my fears and recompense me for all the trials I had undergone.
“Prior to leaving the inn next day I learned from my host that the
hollow was known to be haunted, and, on that account, was universally
shunned after sunset. Half a century ago the ruins--then a neat grey
cottage--had been inhabited by the Evanses, a bad, thriftless ‘lot.’
“At the instigation of her husband, and with the motive of robbery,
Mrs. Evans, a buxom woman--handsome in a bad bold style--had flirted
openly with a pedlar, known locally as ‘Black Dave.’
“This man was easily induced to put up at their house, and his
suspicions being lulled to rest by the amorous overtures of the woman,
he was surprised in his sleep and butchered.
“Fearing, however, either to commit the body to the river or bury it in
their garden lest it should be found, and being at the time very hard
pressed for food--they improvised an oven in the earth and ate it!
“The vengeance of Heaven was, however, close on their track; the
cottage, paid for out of their ill-gotten gains, caught fire during
a drunken carousal, and Mrs. Evans was burned to death, whilst her
husband only lingered long enough to make a full confession of the
crime.
“The house was never rebuilt; the phantasm of Dave, in the disgusting
guise in which he appeared to me, still haunts the precincts, and,
delighting to gull unsuspecting wayfarers, leads them out of their
proper courses, guiding them with a fiendish skill to the black
ruin--the scene of his ghastly murder.”
CATCHFIELD HALL, THE MIDLANDS
THE TERRIBLE HEADS THAT RISE THROUGH THE FLOOR
Technical form of apparitions: Phantoms of the dead
Source of authenticity: Accumulative hearsay evidence
No. -- THE TERRACE, WORCESTER.
_March 1, 1908._
DEAR MR. ELLIOTT O’DONNELL,
I thought you would be interested to hear I met Mrs. Blake last
night at the Stowes, where I got out of her with no small amount
of pumping an account of “what she saw” at that notorious ball
at Catchfield some years ago. It is very horrible, too horrible,
perhaps even for such a “spook gourmand” as you. Of course all the
names I have given you are fictitious. You know there have been
several libel cases lately, in connection with haunted houses so
that one cannot be too careful. &c. &c. &c.
Yours sincerely,
EVELYN D. O’GRADY.
THE STORY
My invitation to spend the Christmas holidays with Lady Wentworth came
as a delightful surprise.
Imagine me a poor, insignificant little schoolmistress in St. Rudolphs,
suddenly blossoming out into a much envied guest at Catchfield. Who can
blame me if I indulged in a momentary outburst of pride?
So far my lot in life had not been all _couleur de rose_. Losing my
husband shortly after our marriage, I had been obliged to do something
for a bare living.
My education though fair had fallen short of Girton or a degree, and I
was barely qualified to teach any but very small children. Had I but
foreseen the future, I might no doubt have done better. As it was my
position was only that of a kindergarten schoolmistress in St. Rudolphs.
I do not think you can truly estimate a person’s disposition till
you see how they behave to those who have the misfortune to be in
subordinate positions, nor can you always tell a shoddy lady from a
real one until you have discovered how she treats her governess and
servants. Until I taught in St. Rudolphs I had no idea how thoroughly
common were the majority of its so-called aristocracy, but one term
was quite sufficient to show me that dealing with such hopelessly and
innately vulgar people would be almost more than I could bear.
It was therefore scarcely a matter of wonder--that when Christmas drew
nigh--the Christmas after my first sojourn in St. Rudolphs--I was almost
beside myself with joy on receiving a pressing invitation to stay at
Catchfield Hall. Nothing soothes the sensitive nature of a snob more
than to call other people snobbish. The parents of my children were
of the middle class--middlish--snobs with a very big S, and should any
one need a proof of the correctness of this assertion let me point
to him the fact that whenever a moneyed person came to reside within
any get-at-able distance whatever, the people I have designated as
“snobs” made all haste to call on them; even the bishop whose object in
coming to St. Rudolphs was obviously only “to confirm,” was inundated
with invitations to dinner, and the rival claims to eligibility of
those invited to meet him, were openly discussed at afternoon tea and
bridge parties. Let me also add that their club, ludicrously labelled
“select,” boycotted one of its members for some trivial remark, true
enough, but like so many other homely truths better left unsaid, and
that these very people who had sat in judgment, themselves indulged in
the most scathingly rude remarks to those who for certain reasons were
obliged to “grin and bear it.”
Therefore I repeat again, the parents of my children were snobs,
and being snobs would not allow any one in the humble position of a
schoolmistress to say any thing that might in any way be construed into
snobbishness.
Depict to yourself then how indignant they were, and how I laughed up
my sleeve when I let slip, quite by mischance you understand, the fact
that I was going to spend Christmas with my near, my very near kinsman
Lord Robert Wentworth.
A schoolmistress related to a peer! How preposterous! how absurd! how
snobbish! and they laughed at first scornfully, then incredulously--then
pityingly, and I--I humbly bowed them out of the house, and running
upstairs continued my packing. Vale St. Rudolphs! Welcome Catchfield!
Under these circumstances you can imagine why I tell you all this--it is
to show you how more than overjoyed I was at the thought of eating my
Christmas pudding among gentlefolk.
When I got out at Highfield--the nearest station to Catchfield--my
lord’s brougham stood in waiting.
“They are very full up at the Hall, madam,” the coachman said, touching
his hat respectfully, “otherwise miladi would have sent one of the
motors, but they have both had to go out longish distances.”
“Is there a house-party?” I faltered, giving one of the horses--I love
horses--a gentle pat on the head.
“What! didn’t you know? I beg your pardon, madam,” the fellow added
suddenly, recollecting himself, “but it is the Coming of Age party of
the Hon. Walter early next week that has fetched well-nigh half the
county; you see he is the eldest son--and--well, madam, there is to be a
very big ball. I made sure madam knew all about it.”
I shook my head despairingly, balls were not for such as I. I had
neither a dress nor yet the money wherewith to buy one. Most decidedly
I ought not to have come! I glanced at the man to see if he understood
my misgivings, apparently he did not; perhaps he would not; his manner
at all events was in no degree less deferential, and as he shut the
carriage door with the courtly air of an old gallant, I compared him
with the parents at St. Rudolphs--the comparison of course being all in
his favour.
I will not attempt to describe the exterior of Catchfield, it has been
done so often and so well in historical romances, in biographies, and
in County Directories that any additional effort of mine would be at
once superfluous and poor.
I arrived there late--too late for dinner--and partook of a dainty
supper laid expressly for me in the ball-room presumptive. Fancy supper
by myself in a ball-room! But there was apparently a doubt as to
which of the rooms would be used for the occasion, his lordship being
somewhat reluctant at present to allow this handsomely, I might almost
say sombrely, furnished apartment to be used for such a frivolous
purpose.
Remembering Robert’s sanctimonious bringing up I was not in the least
surprised at his qualms, my only wonder being that he countenanced a
ball at all, but of course that was miladi’s doings. I much wished
to inquire why a solitary meal for such as I should be served in a
room of such splendid dimensions, and one that in most households
would undoubtedly have been used as a drawing-room, but I refrained,
not desiring to appear inquisitive in the eyes of the servants. Her
ladyship arrived as I was finishing my second cup of fragrant coffee,
and despite a certain languid hauteur characteristic of the nobility,
especially of the MODERN nobility, she appeared to welcome me.
I felt this, and yet somehow I was puzzled--puzzled at an indescribable
something in her manner that was quite apart from pride--something that
left me with the decidedly unpleasant impression she was surely acting
a part, and--yet--why should she? Why should her ladyship be anything
but frank with the poor and inoffensive cousin of her husband?
But what was it that made her eyes fall as they encountered mine, and
wander furtively round the room; and why that sudden look of fear that
crept into them as they alighted on the fireplace.
“You wont mind sitting here till bedtime, will you?” she observed, “I
will tell Webster, my maid, to bring you your candle at eleven o’clock.
If there is anything you want, you have only to tell HER. All our
guests play bridge, and I concluded from what Robert told me you didn’t
approve of gambling, so I thought you would be happier here. We are
expecting other anti-gamblers in a few days, so your banishment will
only be temporary! You will excuse us for a time, wont you?”
What other reply could I give but “O yes! most certainly! It is indeed
kind of you to allow me the use of such a lovely room, &c.,” and Lady
Wentworth departed from my presence with a gracious--a most patronising
and highly gracious smile. I was of course charmed and flattered,
as any poor connection by marriage should be, but I wished all the
same that Robert had also come to welcome me, I should have felt more
at ease with Robert! I liked Robert, and--well, I did not like his
beautiful and accomplished wife. Had he come only for two minutes I
should not have minded, but I was tired, I felt neglected, and I longed
for kindness. Kindness after St. Rudolphs. It was not like Robert,
we had been such friends in our youth; children together, playmates,
chums! Had money and position changed his nature?
Money! I grew dispirited! I was poor! terribly poor! I was lonely! Oh,
so lonely!
The room was huge, the night cold and the fire SMALL--very small.
Drawing my chair close to it I simulated ease; I tried to feel cosy!
Cosy!
What a barrier, an insurmountable barrier, was poverty to pleasure!
Would Robert’s wife have banished a countess? Fancy a countess
experiencing a reception such as this! A countess in a vast room empty
save for draughts and a Liliputian fire! A countess! I laughed! I was
growing common like the mediocre parents of St. Rudolphs. Vulgarity is
catching! It is both epidemic and endemic.
Had Robert told her I disapproved of playing cards for money? Of course
not, that was a society taradiddle! He couldn’t know my scruples or he
would never have asked me to meet his wife. She, she had guessed my
poverty by my profession--all schoolmistresses are poor; every one that
teaches is poor--education must be gratis. A cold blast of air from the
chimney made me shiver. The room was indeed draughty! and how still! I
did not altogether like such stillness, it got on my nerves. And how
dark! Why were not all the gas jets lighted--why only this one? Because
I was poor; the poor should learn to be economical, and example is
better than precept! Hence this feeble flicker: a flicker that failing
to reach the further extremities of the chamber, left the corners
enveloped in shrouds of darkness--of a black impenetrable darkness I
could neither fathom nor comprehend. The furniture was superb, but it
was of too funereal a texture and colour to be pleasing to me just
then, I would have preferred something of a brighter tone.
The floor was covered by a carpet that must assuredly have been made
expressly for that room since it stretched right up to the skirting,
concealing every particle of bare board.
I could not see the pattern, I could only devise by the soft tread of
the carpet that it was either of Persian or Turkish manufacture. In
some places, where kissed by the moonlight, it was almost white, whilst
in other parts it was rendered black by a hotch-potch of countless
shadows lying thick upon it.
Through the great bay windows opposite me, a magnificent panorama of
lawn, meadows and rivers, beyond which I fancied I could detect the
needle-like front of a steeple, spread itself before my eyes. All this
natural beauty lay enhanced by a thin covering of gleaming snow. It
was Christmas! The glamour of the hour and season enchanted me; past
injuries and St. Rudolphs were forgotten; I was at peace with all men.
At peace! What wouldn’t I give if I could always be so; if these broad
acres, this noble mansion, this stately apartment were mine--mine--ALL
MINE--and the stillness of the room again oppressed me.
Where were the many guests miladi had mentioned? Where were the sounds
of revelry? The high-pitched voices of women, the hoarser tones of men,
the indistinct murmuring of conversation such as I had sat and listened
to in days of yore; how it had hummed and buzzed around me when plunged
in pleasant reverie, it then had no more effect on my hearing than
the lapping of the gentlest waves on the seashore. There were no such
sounds now; these massive walls were a sure, impenetrable barrier to
whatever might be going on outside--this room--far from being filled
with giddy babblers--was empty, distractedly, painfully EMPTY, empty
save for the dancing moonbeams and the moving shadows.
But was it empty? My heart gave a violent, sickly throb as I
recollected the look of disquietude, of grave, of indisputably grave
apprehension in miladi’s eyes as she peered around! Of what had she
been afraid--of the approaching twilight, of the shadows, of the gloom;
and as I cast a terrified glance ahead of me I fancied--foolish fancy!
that those palls of darkness I have already mentioned had come out
further from the nooks and crannies and were fast approaching me.
Those of us who have ever ridden on horseback by night across some
dreary wilderness, or along a lonely road have doubtless had occasion
to observe a strange alteration in the behaviour of our beast; its
psychic propensities have been suddenly and mysteriously awakened; it
fights shy of some particular tree, or stone, or gap in the hedge; its
ears twitch, its flanks quiver, it is all on the tremble, the slightest
sound would now make it take the bit between its teeth and bolt; it is
afraid not necessarily of what it has seen, but what it fears may be
there! And--to an anomalous species of terror I found myself a bounden
slave.
I dreaded to think of the effect even the most trivial sound or
incident might now produce on my agitated mind. Had I been able, I
would have risked the displeasure of my hostess and left the room, but
I COULD NOT; every atom of strength seemed to have quitted my body--I
was _pro tempore_ cataleptic--PARALYSED.
A faint and almost imperceptible movement suddenly attracted my
attention to a square patch of light on the carpet immediately before
me.
To my horror something was coming THROUGH the floor. Slowly, very
slowly, first of all a head, a head surmounted with long dishevelled
black hair, then a FACE! God save me from seeing the like again--a
face that might have once been beautiful, or plain, or ugly, but was
now--NOTHING--nothing--I won’t describe--nothing but the GRAVE; then
shoulders, bust, what was once a body, legs. Held in its arms in close
embrace--was the figure of a baby--in a like state of nudity and decay.
For a moment, only for a moment, they stood swaying silently to and fro
in the moonlight, and then with a snakelike movement of her body the
phantom of the woman glided across the room, vanishing in the recess
containing the large bay window.
After the subsidation of intense terror at this hideous spectacle I
had been compelled to witness, the pulsating of my heart once again
becoming normal, I was able to reflect with comparative calmness on
what I had seen.
I say with comparative calmness, for a strong suspicion now entered
my mind that Lady Wentworth may have anticipated all along what would
happen, and that I had been put in that room as a mere experiment to
see whether it were still haunted. The bare idea of such perfidy filled
me with so great an indignation that I seriously thought of trumping up
some excuse and returning home; my resolutions being shattered only by
the opportune arrival of Cousin Robert, whose cordial welcome acting
like a stimulant made me decide to remain.
With a thoughtfulness that had singled him out from among his
companions as a boy, he noticed my weariness, and putting it down to
the fatigue of my journey went in search of his wife’s maid.
Need I say that I was thankful to get to bed and there, despite my
ghostly adventures, I slept very soundly till the gong went for
breakfast, at which free and easy meal I made the acquaintance of some
very charming guests.
Miladi was of course too much in request to spend more than a few
minutes with poor, insignificant me; she expressed an earnest hope
that I had not been too dull for words and that I had found the room
warm and comfortable. “At all events,” she added, “you can sit and
read there without fear of interruption. I know how fond of books you
‘clever’ people are--you must go into the library and choose some. You
were not disturbed last night were you?”
Though this question was put in the most artless manner possible and
with all apparent ingenuousness I detected a half frightened, half
inquiring expression in her eyes that she vainly tried to stifle, an
expression which converted the suspicion I had entertained into a
conviction, a conviction that this woman was isolating me to serve some
deep and subtle purpose.
I tried to get out of the lady’s-maid what this purpose might be,
but if Webster knew she most certainly showed no signs of it, being
doubtless as accomplished an actress as her mistress.
As one may readily conclude I looked forward to the evening with little
equanimity, offering up fervent prayers for any incident that might add
to the duration of dinner.