OCCULT HOOLIGANS
Deducing from my own and other people's experiences, there exists a
distinct type of occult phenomenon whose sole occupation is in
boisterous orgies and in making manifestations purely for the sake of
causing annoyance. To this phantasm the Germans have given the name
POLTERGEIST, whilst in former of my works I have classified it as a
Vagrarian Order of ELEMENTAL. It is this form of the superphysical,
perhaps, that up to the present time has gained the greatest
credence--it has been known in all ages and in all countries. Who, for
example, has not heard of the famous Stockwell ghost that caused such a
sensation in 1772, and of which Mrs Crowe gives a detailed account in
her _Night Side of Nature_; or again, of "The Black Lion Lane, Bayswater
Ghost," referred to many years ago in _The Morning Post_; or, of the
"Epworth Ghost," that so unceasingly tormented the Wesley family; or, of
the "Demon of Tedworth" that gave John Mompesson and his family no
peace, and of countless other well-authenticated and recorded instances
of this same type of occult phenomenon? The poltergeists in the
above-mentioned cases were never seen, only felt and heard; but in what
a disagreeable and often painful manner! The Demon of Tedworth, for
example, awoke everyone at night by thumping on doors and imitating the
beatings of a drum. It rattled bedsteads, scratched on the floor and
wall as if possessing iron talons, groaned, and uttered loud cries of "A
witch! A witch!" Nor was it content with these auditory demonstrations,
for it resorted to far more energetic methods of physical violence.
Furniture was moved out of its place and upset; the children's shoes
were taken off their feet and thrown over their heads; their hair was
tweaked and their clothes pulled; one little boy was even hit on a sore
place on his heel; the servants were lifted bodily out of their beds and
let fall; whilst several members of the household were stripped of all
they had on, forcibly held down, and pelted with shoes. Nor were the
proceedings at Stockwell, Black Lion Lane, and Epworth, though rather
more bizarre, any less violent.
To quote another instance of this kind of haunting, Professor Schuppart
at Gressen, in Upper Hesse, was for six years persecuted by a
poltergeist in the most unpleasant manner; stones were sent whizzing
through closed rooms in all directions, breaking windows but hurting no
one; his books were torn to pieces; the lamp by which he was reading was
removed to a distant corner of the room, and his cheeks were slapped,
and slapped so incessantly that he could get no sleep.
According to Mrs Crowe, there was a case of a similar nature at Mr
Chave's, in Devonshire, in 1910, where affidavits were made before the
magistrate attesting the facts, and large rewards offered for discovery;
but in vain, the phenomena continued, and the spiritual agent was
frequently seen in the form of some strange animal.
There seems to be little limit, short of grievous bodily injury--and
even that limit has occasionally been overstepped--to poltergeist
hooliganism. Last summer the Rev. Henry Hacon, M.A., of Searly Vicarage,
North Kelsey Moor, very kindly sent me an original manuscript dealing
with poltergeist disturbances of a very peculiar nature, at the old
Syderstone Parsonage near Fakenham. I published the account _ad verbum_
in a work of mine that appeared the ensuing autumn, entitled _Ghostly
Phenomena_, and the interest it created encourages me to refer to other
cases dealing with the same kind of phenomena.
There is a parsonage in the South of England where not only noises have
been heard, but articles have been mysteriously whisked away and not
returned. A lady assures me that when a gentleman, with whom she was
intimately acquainted, was alone in one of the reception rooms one day,
he placed some coins to the value, I believe, of fifteen shillings, on
the table beside him, and chancing to have his attention directed to the
fire, which had burned low, was surprised on looking again to discover
the coins had gone; nor did he ever recover them. Other things, too, for
the most part trivial, were also taken in the same incomprehensible
manner, and apparently by the same mischievous unseen agency. It is true
that one of the former inhabitants of the house had, during the latter
portion of his life, been heavily in debt, and that his borrowing
propensities may have accompanied him to the occult world; but though
such an explanation is quite feasible, I am rather inclined to attribute
the disappearances to the pranks of some mischievous vagrarian.
I have myself over and over again experienced a similar kind of thing.
For example, in a certain house in Norwood, I remember losing in rapid
succession two stylograph pens, a knife, and a sash. I remembered, in
each case, laying the article on a table, then having my attention
called away by some rather unusual sound in a far corner of the room,
and then, on returning to the table, finding the article had vanished.
There was no one else in the house, so that ordinary theft was out of
the question. Yet where did these articles go, and of what use would
they be to a poltergeist? On one occasion, only, I caught a glimpse of
the miscreant. It was about eight o'clock on a warm evening in June, and
I was sitting reading in my study. The room is slightly below the level
of the road, and in summer, the trees outside, whilst acting as an
effective screen against the sun's rays, cast their shadows somewhat too
thickly on the floor and walls, burying the angles in heavy gloom. In
the daytime one rather welcomes this darkness; but in the afternoon it
becomes a trifle oppressive, and at twilight one sometimes wishes it was
not there. It is at twilight that the nature of the shadows usually
undergoes a change, and there amalgamates, with them, that Something,
that peculiar, indefinable Something that I can only associate with the
superphysical. Here, in my library, I often watch it creep in with the
fading of the sunlight, or, postponing its advent till later--steal in
through the window with the moonbeams, and I feel its presence just as
assuredly and instinctively as I can feel and detect the presence of
hostility in an audience or individual. I cannot describe how; I can
only say I do, and that my discernment is seldom misleading. On the
evening in question I was alone in the house. I had noticed, amid the
shadows that lay in clusters on the floor and walls, this enigmatical
Something. It was there most markedly; but I did not associate it with
anything particularly terrifying or antagonistic. Perhaps that was
because the book I was reading interested me most profoundly--it was a
translation from Heine, and I am devoted to Heine. Let me quote an
extract. It is from _Florentine Nights_, and runs: "But is it not folly
to wish to sound the inner meaning of any phenomenon outside us, when we
cannot even solve the enigma of our own souls? We hardly know even
whether outside phenomena really exist! We are often unable to
distinguish reality from mere dream-faces. Was it a shape of my fancy,
or was it horrible reality that I heard and saw on that night? I know
not. I only remember that, as the wildest thoughts were flowing through
my heart, a singular sound came to my ear." I had got so far,
absorbingly, spiritually interested, when I heard a laugh, a long, low
chuckle, that seemed to come from the darkest and most remote corner of
the room. A cold paroxysm froze my body, the book slid from my hands,
and I sat upright in my chair, every faculty within me acutely alert and
active. The laugh was repeated, this time from behind a writing-table in
quite another part of the room. Something which sounded like a shower of
tintacks then fell into the grate; after which there was a long pause,
and then a terrific bump, as if some heavy body had fallen from a great
height on to the floor immediately in front of me. I even heard the
hissing and whizzing the body made in its descent as it cut its passage
through the air. Again there came an interval of tranquillity broken
only by the sounds of people in the road, the hurrying footsteps of a
girl, the clattering of a man in hobnails, the quick, sharp tread of the
lamplighter, and the scampering patter of a bevy of children. Then there
came a series of knockings on the ceiling, and then the sound of
something falling into a gaping abyss which I intuitively felt had
surreptitiously opened at my feet.
For many seconds I listened to the reverberations of the object as it
dashed against the sides of the unknown chasm; at length there was a
splash, succeeded by hollow echoes. Shaking in every limb, I shrank back
as far as I possibly could in my chair and clutched the arms. A draught,
cold and dank, as if coming from an almost interminable distance, blew
upwards and fanned my nostrils. Then there came the most appalling, the
most blood-curdling chuckle, and I saw a hand--a lurid grey hand with
long, knotted fingers and black, curved nails--feeling its way towards
me, through the subtle darkness, like some enormous, unsavoury insect.
Nearer, nearer, and nearer it drew, its fingers waving in the air,
antennæ fashion. For a moment it paused, and then, with lightning
rapidity, snatched the book from my knees and disappeared. Directly
afterwards I heard the sound of a latchkey inserted in the front door,
whilst the voice of my wife inquiring why the house was in darkness
broke the superphysical spell. Obeying her summons, I ascended the
staircase, and the first object that greeted my vision in the hall was
the volume of Heine that had been so unceremoniously taken from me!
Assuredly this was the doings of a poltergeist! A poltergeist that up to
the present had confined its attentions to me, no one else in the house
having either heard or seen it.
In my study there is a deep recess concealed in the winter-time by heavy
curtains drawn across it; and often when I am writing something makes me
look up, and a cold horror falls upon me as I perceive the curtains
rustle, rustle as though they were laughing, laughing in conjunction
with some hidden occult monstrosity; some grey--the bulk of the
phantasms that come to me are grey--and glittering monstrosity who was
enjoying a rich jest at my expense. Occasionally, to emphasise its
presence, this poltergeist has scratched the wall, or thumped, or thrown
an invisible missile over my head, or sighed, or groaned, or gurgled,
and I have been frightened, horribly, ghastly frightened. Then something
has happened--my wife has called out, or someone has rung a bell, or the
postman has given one of his whole-hearted smashes with the knocker,
and the poltergeist has "cleared off," and I have not been disturbed by
it again for the remainder of the evening.
I am not the only person whom poltergeists visit. Judging from my
correspondence and the accounts I see in the letters of various
psychical research magazines, they patronise many people. Their _modus
operandi_, covering a wide range, is always boisterous. Undoubtedly they
have been badly brought up--their home influence and their educational
training must have been sadly lacking in discipline. Or is it the
reverse? Are their crude devices and mad, tomboyish pranks merely
reactionary, and the only means they have of finding vent for their
naturally high spirits? If so, I devoutly wish they would choose some
locality other than my study for their playground. Yet they interest me,
and although I quake horribly when they are present, I derive endless
amusement at other times, in speculating on their _raison d'être_, and
curious--perhaps complex--constitutions. I do not believe they have ever
inhabited any earthly body, either human or animal. I think it likely
that they may be survivals of early experiments in animal and vegetable
life in this planet, prior to the selection of any definite types;
spirits that have never been anything else but spirits, and which have,
no doubt, often envied man his carnal body and the possibilities that
have been permitted him of eventually reaching a higher spiritual plane.
It is envy, perhaps, that has made them mischievous, and generated in
them an insatiable thirst to torment and frighten man. Another probable
explanation of them is, that they may be inhabitants of one of the other
planets that have the power granted, under certain conditions at present
unknown to us, of making themselves seen and heard by certain dwellers
on the earth; and it is, of course, possible that they are but one of
many types of spirits inhabiting a superphysical sphere that encloses or
infringes on our own. They may be only another form of life, a form that
is neither carnal nor immortal, but which has to depend for its
existence on a superphysical food. They may be born in a fashion that,
apart from its peculiarity and extravagance, bears some resemblance to
the generation of physical animal life; and they may die, too, as man
dies, and their death may be but the passing from one stage to another,
or it may be for eternity.
But enough of possibilities, of probable and improbable theories. For
the present not only poltergeists but all other phantoms are seen as
through a glass darkly, and, pending the discovery of some definite
data, we do but flounder in a sea of wide, limitless, and infinite
speculation.