CHAPTER XIII.

HAUNTED HOUSES.

EVERYBODY has heard of haunted houses; and there is no country, and

scarcely any place, in which something of the sort is not known or

talked of; and I suppose there is no one who, in the course of their

travels, has not seen very respectable, good-looking houses shut up and

uninhabited, because they had this evil reputation assigned to them. I

have seen several such, for my own part; and it is remarkable that this

_mala fama_ does not always, by any means, attach itself to buildings

one would imagine most obnoxious to such a suspicion. For example, I

never heard of a ghost being seen or heard in Haddon hall, the most

ghostly of houses; nor in many other antique, mysterious-looking

buildings, where one might expect them, while sometimes a house of a

very prosaic aspect remains uninhabited, and is ultimately allowed to

fall to ruin, for no other reason, we are told, than that nobody can

live in it. I remember, in my childhood, such a house in Kent—I think

it was on the road between Maidstone and Tunbridge—which had this

reputation. There was nothing dismal about it: it was neither large nor

old, and it stood on the borders of a well-frequented road; yet I was

assured it had stood empty for years; and as long as I lived in that

part of the country it never had an inhabitant, and I believe was

finally pulled down—and all for no other reason than that it was

haunted, and nobody could live in it. I have frequently heard of people,

while travelling on the continent, getting into houses at a rent so low

as to surprise them, and I have, moreover, frequently heard of very

strange things occurring while they were there. I remember, for

instance, a family of the name of S—— S——, who obtained a very

handsome house at a most agreeably cheap rate, somewhere on the coast of

Italy—I think it was at Mola de Gaeta. They lived very comfortably in

it till one day, while Mrs. S—— S—— was sitting in the drawing-room,

which opened into a balcony overhanging the sea, she saw a lady dressed

in white pass along before the windows, which were all closed.

Concluding it was one of her daughters, who had been accidentally shut

out, she arose and opened the window, to allow her to enter; but on

looking out, to her amazement there was nobody there, although there was

no possible escape from the balcony unless by jumping into the sea! On

mentioning this circumstance to somebody in the neighborhood, they were

told that “that was the reason they had the house so cheap: nobody liked

to live in it.”

I have heard of several houses, even in populous cities, to which some

strange circumstance of this sort is attached—some in London even, and

some in this city and neighborhood; and, what is more, unaccountable

things actually do happen to those who inhabit them. Doors are strangely

opened and shut, a rustling of silk, and sometimes a whispering, and

frequently footsteps, are heard. There is a house in Ayrshire to which

this sort of thing has been attached for years, insomuch that it was

finally abandoned to an old man and woman, who said that they were so

used to it that they did not mind it. A distinguished authoress told me

that some time ago she passed a night at the house of an acquaintance,

in one of the midland counties of England. She and her sister occupied

the same room, and in the night they heard some one ascending the

stairs. The foot came distinctly to the door, then turned away, ascended

the next flight, and they heard it overhead. In the morning, on being

asked if they had slept well, they mentioned this circumstance. “That is

what everybody hears who sleeps in that room,” said the lady of the

house. “Many a time I have, when sleeping there, drawn up the

night-bolt, persuaded that the nurse was bringing the baby to me; but

there was nobody to be seen. We have taken every pains to ascertain what

it is, but in vain; and are now so used to it, that we have ceased to

care about the matter.”

I know of two or three other houses in this city, and one in the

neighborhood, in which circumstances of this nature are transpiring, or

have transpired very lately; but people hush them up, from the fear of

being laughed at, and also from an apprehension of injuring the

character of a house; on which account, I do not dwell on the

particulars. But there was, some time since, a _fama_ of this kind

attached to a house in St. J—— street, some of the details of which

became very public. It had stood empty a long time, in consequence of

the annoyances to which the inhabitants had been subjected. There was

one room, particularly, which nobody could occupy without disturbance.

On one occasion, a youth who had been abroad a considerable time, either

in the army or navy, was put there to sleep on his arrival, since,

knowing nothing of these reports, it was hoped his rest might not be

interrupted. In the morning, however, he complained of the dreadful time

he had had, with people looking in at him between the curtains of his

bed all night—avowing his resolution to terminate his visit that same

day, as he would not sleep there any more. After this period, the house

stood empty again for a considerable time, but was at length taken and

workmen sent in to repair it. One day, when the men were away at dinner,

the master tradesman took the key and went to inspect progress, and,

having examined the lower rooms, he was ascending the stairs, when he

heard a man’s foot behind him. He looked round, but there was nobody

there, and he moved on again; still there was somebody following, and he

stopped and looked over the rails; but there was no one to be seen. So,

although feeling rather queer, he advanced into the drawing-room, where

a fire had been lighted; and, wishing to combat the uncomfortable

sensation that was creeping over him, he took hold of a chair, and

drawing it resolutely along the floor, he slammed it down upon the

hearth with some force and seated himself in it; when, to his amazement,

the action, in all its particulars of sound, was immediately repeated by

his unseen companion, who seemed to seat himself beside him on a chair

as invisible as himself. Horror-struck, the worthy builder started up

and rushed out of the house.

There is a house in S—— street, in London, which, having stood empty a

good while, was at length taken by Lord B——. The family were annoyed

by several unpleasant occurrences, and by the sound of footsteps, which

were often audible, especially in Lady B——’s bed-room—who, though she

could not see the form, was occasionally conscious of its immediate

proximity.

Some time since, a gentleman having established himself in a lodging in

London, felt, the first night he slept there, that the clothes were

being dragged off his bed. He fancied he had done it himself in his

sleep, and pulled them on again;—but it happens repeatedly: he gets out

of bed each time—can find nobody, no string, no possible

explanation—nor can obtain any from the people of the house, who only

seem distressed and annoyed. On mentioning it to some one in the

neighborhood, he is informed that the same thing has occurred to several

preceding occupants of the lodging, which, of course, he left.

The circumstances that happened at New House, in Hampshire—as detailed

by Mr. Barham in the third volume of the “Ingoldsby Legends”—are known

to be perfectly authentic; as are the following, the account of which I

have received from a highly respectable servant, residing in a family

with whom I am well acquainted: she informs me that she was, not very

long since, living with a Colonel and Mrs. W——, who, being at

Carlisle, engaged a furnished house, which they obtained at an

exceedingly cheap rate, because nobody liked to live in it. This family,

however, met with no annoyance, and attached no importance to the rumor

which had kept the house empty. There were, however, two rooms in it

wholly unfurnished; and as the house was large, they were dispensed with

till the recurrence of the race week, when, expecting company, these two

rooms were temporarily fitted up for the use of the nurses and children.

There were heavy Venetian blinds to the windows; and, in the middle of

the night, the person who related the circumstance to me, was awakened

by the distinct sound of these blinds being pulled up and down with

violence, perhaps as many as twenty times. The fire had fallen low, and

she could not see whether they were actually moved or not, but lay

trembling in indescribable terror. Presently feet were heard in the

room, and a stamping as if several men were moving about without

stockings. While lying in this state of agony, she was comforted by

hearing the voice of a nurse, who slept in another bed in the same

chamber, exclaiming: “The Lord have mercy upon us!” This second woman

then asked the first if she had courage to get out of bed and stir up

the fire, so that they might be able to see; which by a great effort she

did, the chimney being near her bed. There was, however, nothing to be

discovered, everything being precisely as when they went to bed. On

another occasion, when they were sitting in the evening at work, they

distinctly heard some one counting money, and the chink of the pieces as

they were laid down. The sound proceeded from the inner room of the two,

but there was nobody there. This family left the house, and though a

large and commodious one, she understood it remained unoccupied, as

before.

A respectable citizen of Edinburgh, not long ago, went to America to

visit his son, who had married and settled there. The morning after his

arrival, he declared his determination to return immediately to

Philadelphia, from which the house was at a considerable distance; and,

on being interrogated as to the cause of this sudden departure, he said

that in the previous night he had heard a man walking about his room,

who had approached the bed, drawn back the curtains, and bent over him.

Thinking it was somebody who had concealed himself there with ill

intentions, he had struck out violently at the figure, when, to his

horror, his arm passed unimpeded through it.

Other extraordinary things happened in that house, which had the

reputation of being haunted, although the son had not believed it, and

had therefore not mentioned the report to the father. One day the

children said they had been running after “such a queer thing in the

cellar; it was like a goat, and not like a goat; but it seemed to be

like a shadow.”

A few years ago, some friends of mine were taking a house in this city,

when the servants of the people who were leaving advised them not to

have anything to do with it, for that there was a ghost in it that

screamed dreadfully, and that they never could keep a stitch of clothes

on them at night—the bed-coverings were always pulled off. My friends

laughed heartily and took the house; but the cries and groans all over

it were so frequent, that they at length got quite used to them. It is

to be observed that the house was a _flat_, or _floor_, shut in; so that

there could be no draughts of air nor access for tricks. Besides, it was

a woman’s voice, sometimes close to their ears, sometimes in a closet,

sometimes behind their beds—in short, in all directions. Everybody

heard it that went to the house.

The tenant that succeeded them, however, has never been troubled with

it.

The story of the Brown Lady at the Marquis of T——’s, in Norfolk, is

known to many. The Hon. H. W—— told me that a friend of his, while

staying there, had often seen her, and had one day inquired of his host,

“Who was the lady in brown that he had met frequently on the stairs?”

Two gentlemen, whose names were mentioned to me, resolved to watch for

her and intercept her. They at length saw her but she eluded them by

turning down a staircase, and when they looked over she had disappeared.

Many persons have seen her.

There is a Scotch family of distinction, who, I am told, are accompanied

by an unseen attendant, whom they call “Spinning Jenny.” She is heard

spinning in their house in the country, and when they come into town she

spins here; servants and all hear the sound of her wheel. I believe she

accompanies them no further than to their own residences, not to those

of other people. Jenny is supposed to be a former housemaid of the

family, who was a great spinner, and they are so accustomed to her

presence as to feel it no annoyance.

The following very singular circumstance was related to me by the

daughter of the celebrated Mrs. S——: Mrs. S—— and her husband were

travelling into Wales, and had occasion to stop on their way, some days,

at Oswestry. There they established themselves in a lodging, to reach

the door of which they had to go down a sort of close, or passage. The

only inhabitants of the house were the mistress, a very handsome woman,

and two maids. Mr. and Mrs. S——, however, very soon had occasion to

complain of the neglected state of the rooms, which were apparently

never cleaned or dusted; though, strange to say, to judge by their own

ears, the servants were doing nothing else all night, their sleep being

constantly disturbed by the noise of rubbing, sweeping, and the moving

of furniture. When they complained to these servants of the noise in the

night, and the dirt of the rooms, they answered that the noise was not

made by them, and that it was impossible for them to do their work,

exhausted as they were by sitting up all night with their mistress, who

could not bear to be alone when she was in bed. Mr. and Mrs. S——

afterward discovered that she had her room lighted up every night; and

one day, as they were returning from a walk, and she happened to be

going down the close before them, they heard her saying, as she turned

her head sharply from side to side, “Are you there again? What, the

devil! Go away, I tell you!” &c., &c. On applying to the neighbors for

an explanation of these mysteries, the good people only shook their

heads, and gave mysterious answers. Mr. and Mrs. S—— afterward learned

that she was believed to have murdered a girl who formerly lived in her

service.

There is nothing in the conduct of this unhappy woman which may not be

perfectly well accounted for, by the supposition of a guilty conscience;

but the noises heard by Mr. and Mrs. S—— at night, are curiously in

accordance with a variety of similar stories, wherein this strange

visionary repetition of the trivial actions of daily life, or of some

particular incident, has been observed. The affair of Lord St. Vincent’s

was of this nature; and there is somewhere extant, an account of the

ghost of Peter the Great, of Russia, having appeared to Doctor Doppelio,

complaining to him of the sufferings he endured from having to act over

again his former cruelties; a circumstance which exhibits a remarkable

coincidence with the Glasgow dream, mentioned in a preceding chapter. We

must, of course, attach a symbolical meaning to these phenomena, and

conclude that these reactings are somewhat of the nature of our dreams.

Certainly, there would need no stronger motive to induce us to spend the

period allotted to us on earth, in those pure and innocent pleasures and

occupations, which never weary or sicken the soul, than the belief that

such a future awaits us!

A family in one of the English counties, was a few years ago terribly

troubled by an unseen inmate who chiefly seemed to inhabit a large

cellar, into which there was no entrance except the door which was kept

locked. Here there would be a loud knocking—sometimes a voice

crying—heavy feet walking, &c., &c. At first, the old trustworthy

butler would summon his accolytes, and descend, armed with sword and

blunderbuss; but no one was to be seen. They could often hear the feet

following them up stairs from this cellar; and once, when the family had

determined to watch, they found themselves accompanied up stairs not

only by the sound of the feet, but by a _visible_ shadowy companion!

They rushed up, flew to their chamber, and shut the door, when instantly

they felt and saw the handle turned in their hand by a hand outside.

Windows and doors were opened in spite of locks and keys; but

notwithstanding the most persevering investigations, the only clew to

the mystery was the appearance of that spectral figure.

The knockings and sounds of people at work, asserted to be heard in

mines, is a fact maintained by many very sensible men, overseers, and

superintendents, &c., as well as by the workmen themselves; and there is

a strong persuasion, I know, among the miners of Cornwall, and those of

Mendip, that these visionary workmen are sometimes heard among them; on

which occasions the horses evince their apprehensions by trembling and

sweating; but as I have no means of verifying these reports, I do not

dwell upon them further.

When the mother of George Canning, then Mrs. Hunn, was an actress in the

provinces, she went, among other places, to Plymouth, having previously

requested her friend, Mr. Bernard, of the theatre, to procure her a

lodging. On her arrival Mr. B. told her that if she was not afraid of a

ghost, she might have a comfortable residence at a very low rate, “For

there is,” said he, “a house belonging to our carpenter, that is

reported to be haunted, and nobody will live in it. If you like to have

it, you may, and for nothing, I believe, for he is so anxious to get a

tenant; only you must not let it be known that you do not pay rent for

it.”

Mrs. Hunn, alluding to the theatrical apparitions, said it would not be

the first time she had had to do with a ghost, and that she was very

willing to encounter this one; so she had her luggage taken to the house

in question, and the bed prepared. At her usual hour, she sent her maid

and her children to bed, and, curious to see if there was any foundation

for the rumor she had heard, she seated herself, with a couple of

candles and a book, to watch the event. Beneath the room she occupied

was the carpenter’s workshop, which had two doors. The one which opened

into the street was barred and bolted within; the other, a smaller one,

opening into the passage, was only on the latch; and the house was, of

course, closed for the night. She had read something more than half an

hour, when she perceived a noise issuing from this lower apartment,

which sounded very much like the sawing of wood. Presently other such

noises as usually proceed from a carpenter’s workshop were added, till

by-and-by, there was a regular concert of knocking and hammering, and

sawing and planing, &c.; the whole sounding like half a dozen busy men

in full employment. Being a woman of considerable courage, Mrs. Hunn

resolved, if possible, to penetrate the mystery; so taking off her

shoes, that her approach might not be heard, with her candle in her

hand, she very softly opened her door and descended the stairs, the

noise continuing as loud as ever, and evidently proceeding from the

workshop, till she opened the door, when instantly all was silent—all

was still—not a mouse was stirring; and the tools and the wood, and

everything else, lay as they had been left by the workmen when they went

away. Having examined every part of the place, and satisfied herself

that there was nobody there, and that nobody could get into it, Mrs.

Hunn ascended to her room again, beginning almost to doubt her own

senses, and question with herself whether she had really heard the noise

or not, when it recommenced and continued, without intermission, for

about half an hour. She however went to bed, and the next day told

nobody what had occurred, having determined to watch another night

before mentioning the affair to any one. As, however, this strange scene

was acted over again, without her being able to discover the cause of

it, she now mentioned the circumstance to the owner of the house and to

her friend Bernard; and the former, who would not believe it, agreed to

watch with her, which he did. The noise began as before, and he was so

horror-struck that, instead of entering the workshop as she wished him

to do, he rushed into the street. Mrs. Hunn continued to inhabit the

house the whole summer; and, when referring afterward to the adventure,

she observed that use was second nature, and that she was sure if any

night these ghostly carpenters had not pursued their visionary labors,

she should have been quite frightened, lest they should pay her a visit

up stairs.

From many recorded cases, I find the vulgar belief, that buried money is

frequently the cause of these disturbances, is strongly borne out by

facts. This certainly does seem to us very strange, and can only be

explained by the hypothesis suggested, that the soul awakes in the other

world in exactly the same state in which it quitted this.

In the abovementioned instances, of what are called _haunted houses_,

there is generally nothing seen; but those are equally abundant where

the ghostly visiter is visible.

Two young ladies were passing the night in a house in the north, when

the youngest, then a child, awoke and saw an old man, in a Kilmarnock

nightcap, walking about their bed-room. She said, when telling the story

in after-life, that she was not the least frightened—she was only

surprised! but she found that her sister, who was several years older

than herself, was in a state of great terror. He continued some time

moving about, and at last went to a chest of drawers, where there lay a

parcel of buttons, belonging to a travelling tailor who had been at work

in the house. Whether the old man threw them down or not, she could not

say; but, just then, they all fell rattling off the drawers to the

floor, whereupon he disappeared. The next morning, when they mentioned

the circumstance, she observed that the family looked at each other in a

significant manner; but it was not till she was older she learned that

the house was said to be haunted by this old man. “It never occurred to

me,” she said, “that it was a ghost. Who could have thought of a ghost

in a Kilmarnock nightcap!”

At the Leipsic fair, lodgings are often very scarce, and on one occasion

a stranger, who had arrived late in the evening, had some difficulty in

finding a bed. At length he found a vacant chamber in the house of a

citizen. It was one they made no use of, but they said he was welcome to

it; and, weary and sleepy, he gladly accepted the offer. Fatigued as he

was, however, he was disturbed by some unaccountable noises, of which he

complained to his hosts in the morning. They pacified him by some

excuses; but the next night, not long after he had gone to bed, he came

down stairs in great haste, with his portmanteau on his shoulder,

declaring he would not stay there another hour for the world; for that a

lady, in a strange old-fashioned dress, had come into the room with a

dagger in her hand, and made threatening gestures at him. He accordingly

went away, and the room was shut up again; but some time afterward, a

servant-girl in the family of this citizen, being taken ill, they were

obliged to put her into that room, in order to separate her from the

rest of the family. Here she recovered her health rapidly; and as she

had never complained of any annoyance, she was asked, when she was quite

well, whether anything particular had happened while she inhabited that

chamber. “Oh, yes,” she answered; “every night there came a strange lady

into the room, who sat herself on the bed and stroked me with her hand,

and I believe it is to her I owe my speedy recovery; but I could never

get her to speak to me—she only sighs and weeps.”

Not very long since, a gentleman set out, one fine midsummer’s evening,

when it is light all night in Scotland, to walk from Montrose to

Brechin. As he approached a place called Dunn, he observed a lady

walking on before, which, from the lateness of the hour, somewhat

surprised him. Sometime afterward, he was found by the early laborers

lying on the ground, near the churchyard, in a state of insensibility.

All he could tell them was, that he had followed this lady till she had

turned her head and looked round at him, when, seized with horror, he

had fainted. “Oh,” said they, “you have seen the lady of Dunn.” What is

the legend attached to this lady of Dunn, I do not know.

Monsieur De S. had been violently in love with Hippolyte Clairon, the

celebrated French actress, but she rejected his suit, in so peremptory a

manner, that even when he was at the point of death, she refused his

earnest entreaties, that she would visit him. Indignant at her cruelty,

he declared that he would haunt her, and he certainly kept his word. I

believe she never saw his ghost, but he appears to have been always near

her; at least, on several occasions when other people doubted the fact,

he signalized his presence at her bidding, by various sounds, and this,

wherever she happened to be at the moment. Sometimes it was a cry, at

others, a shot, and at others, a clapping of hands or music. She seems

to have been slow to believe in the extra-natural character of these

noises; and even when she was ultimately convinced, to have been divided

between horror on the one hand, and diversion, at the oddness of the

circumstance, on the other. The sounds were heard by everybody in her

vicinity; and I am informed by Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, that the

margrave of Anspach, who was subsequently her lover, and Mr. Keppel

Craven, were perfectly well acquainted with the circumstances of this

haunting, and entertained no doubt of the facts above alluded to.

The ghost known by the designation of “the White Lady,” which is

frequently seen in different castles or palaces belonging to the royal

family of Prussia, has been mentioned in another publication, I think.

She was long supposed to be a Countess Agnes, of Orlamunde; but a

picture of a princess called Bertha, or Perchta von Rosenberg,

discovered some time since, was thought so exceedingly to resemble the

apparition, that it is now a disputed point which of the two ladies it

is, or whether it is or is not the same apparition that is seen at

different places. Neither of these ladies appears to have been very

happy in their lives: but the opinion of its being the Princess Bertha,

who lived in the fifteenth century, was somewhat countenanced by the

circumstance, that at a period when, in consequence of the war, an

annual benefit which she had bequeathed to the poor was neglected, the

apparition seemed to be unusually disturbed, and was seen more

frequently. She is often observed before a death; and one of the

Fredericks said, shortly before his decease, that he should “not live

long, for he had met the White Lady.” She wears a widow’s band and veil,

but it is sufficiently transparent to show her features, which do not

express happiness, but placidity. She has only been twice heard to

speak. In December, 1628, she appeared in the palace at Berlin, and was

heard to say, “_Veni, judica vivos et mortuos! Judicium mihi adhuc

superest._”—“Come, judge the quick and the dead! I wait for judgment.”

On the other occasion, which is more recent, one of the princesses at

the castle of Neuhaus, in Bohemia, was standing before a mirror, trying

on a new head-dress, when, on asking her waiting-maid what the hour was,

the white lady suddenly stepped from behind a screen and said: “Zehn uhr

ist es ihr liebden!”—“It is ten o’clock, your love!” which is the mode

in which the sovereign princes address each other, instead of “your

highness.” The princess was much alarmed, soon fell sick, and died in a

few weeks. She has frequently evinced displeasure at the exhibition of

impiety or vice; and there are many records of her different appearances

to be found in the works of Balbinus and of Erasmus Francisci; and in a

publication called “The Iris,” published in Frankfort in 1819, the

editor, George Doring, who is said to have been a man of great

integrity, gives the following account of one of her later appearances,

which he declares he received just as he gives it, from the lips of his

own mother, on whose word and judgment he could perfectly rely; and

shortly before his death, an inquiry being addressed to him with regard

to the correctness of the narration, he vouched for its authenticity.

It seems that the elder sister of his mother was companion to one of the

ladies of the court, and that the younger ones were in the habit of

visiting her frequently. Two of these (Doring’s mother and another),

aged fourteen and fifteen, were once spending a week with her, when she

being out and they alone with their needlework, chattering about the

court diversions, they suddenly heard the sound of a stringed

instrument, like a harp, which seemed to proceed from behind a large

stove that occupied one corner of the room. Half in fear and half in

fun, one of the girls took a yard measure that lay beside them, and

struck the spot, whereupon the music ceased, but the stick was wrested

from her hand. She became alarmed; but the other, named Christina,

laughed and said she must have fancied it, adding that the music

doubtless proceeded from the street, though they could not descry any

musicians. To get over her fright, of which she was half ashamed, the

former now ran out of the room to visit a neighbor for a few minutes;

but when she returned, she found Christina lying on the floor in a

swoon, who, on being revived with the aid of the attendants who had

heard a scream, related, that no sooner had her sister left her than the

sound was repeated, close to the stove, and a white figure had appeared

and advanced toward her, whereupon she had screamed and fainted.

The lady who owned the apartments flattered herself that this apparition

betokened that a treasure was hidden under the stove, and, imposing

silence on the girls, she sent for a carpenter and had the planks

lifted. The floor was found to be double, and below was a vault, from

which issued a very unwholesome vapor, but no treasure was found, nor

anything but a quantity of quicklime. The circumstance being now made

known to the king, he expressed no surprise; he said that the apparition

was doubtless that of a countess of Orlamunde, who had been buried alive

in that vault. She was the mistress of a margrave of Brandenburg, by

whom she had two sons. When the prince became a widower, she expected he

would marry her; but he urged as an objection that he feared, in that

case, her sons might hereafter dispute the succession with the lawful

heirs. In order to remove this obstacle out of her way, she poisoned the

children; and the margrave, disgusted and alarmed, had her walled up in

that vault for her pains. He added that she was usually seen every seven

years, and was preceded by the sound of a harp, on which instrument she

had been a proficient; and also that she more frequently appeared to

children than to adults,—as if the love she had denied her own

offspring in life was now her torment, and that she sought a

reconciliation with childhood in general. I know from the best authority

that the fact of these appearances is not doubted by those who have the

fullest opportunities of inquiry and investigation; and I remember

seeing in the English papers, a few years since, a paragraph copied from

the foreign journals, to the effect that the White Lady had been seen

again, I think at Berlin.

The following very curious relation I have received from the gentleman

to whom the circumstance occurred, who is a professional man residing in

London:—

“I was brought up by a grandfather and four aunts, all

ghost-seers and believers in supernatural appearances. The

former had been a sailor, and was one of the crew that sailed

round the world with Lord Anson. I remember, when I was about

eight years old, that I was awakened by the screams of one of

these ladies, with whom I was sleeping, which summoned all the

family about her to inquire the cause of the disturbance. She

said that she had ‘seen Nancy by the side of the bed, and that

she was slipping into it.’ We had scarcely got down stairs in

the morning, before intelligence arrived that that lady had

died, precisely at the moment my aunt said she saw her. Nancy

was her brother’s wife. Another of my aunts, who was married and

had a large family, foretold my grandfather’s death, at a time

that we had no reason to apprehend it. He, also, had appeared at

her bedside; he was then alive and well, but he died a fortnight

afterward. But it would be tedious were I to enumerate half the

instances I could recall of a similar description; and I will

therefore proceed to the relation of what happened to myself.

“I was, some few years since, invited to pass a day and night at

the house of a friend in Hertfordshire, with whom I was

intimately acquainted. His name was B——, and he had formerly

been in business as a saddler, in Oxford street, where he

realized a handsome fortune, and had now retired to enjoy his

_otium cum dignitate_, in the rural and beautiful village of

Sarratt.

“It was a gloomy Sunday, in the month of November, when I

mounted my horse for the journey, and there was so much

appearance of rain, that I should certainly have selected some

other mode of conveyance, had I not been desirous of leaving the

animal in Mr. E——’s straw-yard for the winter. Before I got as

far as St. John’s wood, the threatening clouds broke, and by the

time I reached Watford I was completely soaked. However, I

proceeded, and arrived at Sarratt before my friend and his wife

had returned from church. The moment they did so, they furnished

me with dry clothes, and I was informed that we were to dine at

the house of Mr. D——, a very agreeable neighbor. I felt some

little hesitation about presenting myself in such a costume, for

I was decked out in a full suit of Mr. B——’s, who was a stout

man, of six feet in height, while I am rather of the diminutive

order; but my objections were overruled; we went, and my

appearance added not a little to the hilarity of the party. At

ten o’clock we separated, and I returned with Mr. and Mrs. B——

to their house, where I was shortly afterward conducted to a

very comfortable bed-room.

“Fatigued with my day’s ride, I was soon in bed, and soon

asleep, but I do not think I could have slept long before I was

awakened by the violent barking of dogs. I found that the noise

had disturbed others as well as myself, for I heard Mr. B——,

who was lodged in the adjoining room, open his window and call

to them to be quiet. They were obedient to his voice, and as

soon as quietness ensued I dropped asleep again; but I was again

awakened by an extraordinary pressure upon my feet; _that I was

perfectly awake, I declare_; the light that stood in the

chimney-corner shone strongly across the foot of the bed, and I

saw the figure of a well-dressed man in the act of stooping, and

supporting himself in so doing by the bed-clothes. He had on a

blue coat, with bright gilt buttons, but I saw no head; the

curtains at the foot of the bed, which were partly looped back,

just hung so as to conceal that part of his person. At first I

thought it was my host, and as I had dropped my clothes, as is

my habit, on the floor at the foot of the bed, I supposed he was

come to look after them, which rather surprised me: but, just as

I had raised myself upright in bed, and was about to inquire

into the occasion of his visit, the figure passed on. I then

recollected that I had locked the door; and, becoming somewhat

puzzled, I jumped out of bed; but I could see nobody; and on

examining the room I found no means of ingress but the door

through which I had entered, and one other; both of which were

locked on the inside. Amazed and puzzled I got into bed again,

and sat some time ruminating on the extraordinary circumstance,

when it occurred to me that I had not looked under the bed; so I

got out again, fully expecting to find my visiter, whoever he

was, there; but I was disappointed. So, after looking at my

watch, and ascertaining that it was ten minutes past two, I

stepped into bed again, hoping now to get some rest. But, alas!

sleep was banished for that night; and after turning from side

to side, and making vain endeavors at forgetfulness, I gave up

the point, and lay till the clocks struck seven, perplexing my

brain with the question of who my midnight visiter could be, and

also how he had got in and how he had got out of my room. About

eight o’clock I met my host and his wife at the breakfast-table,

when, in answer to their hospitable inquiries of how I had

passed the night, I mentioned, first, that I had been awaked by

the barking of some dogs, and that I had heard Mr. B—— open

his window and call to them. He answered that two strange dogs

had got into the yard and had disturbed the others. I then

mentioned my midnight visiter, expecting that they would either

explain the circumstance, or else laugh at me and declare I must

have dreamed it. But, to my surprise, my story was listened to

with grave attention, and they related to me the tradition with

which this spectre, for such I found they deemed it to be, was

supposed to be connected. This was to the effect, that many

years ago a gentleman so attired had been murdered there, under

some frightful circumstances, and that his head had been cut

off. On perceiving that I was very unwilling to accept this

explanation of the mystery, for, in spite of my family

peculiarity, I had always been an entire disbeliever in

supernatural appearances, they begged me to prolong my visit for

a day or two, when they would introduce me to the rector of the

parish, who could furnish me with such evidence with regard to

circumstances of a similar nature, as would leave no doubt on my

mind as to the possibility of their occurrence. But I had made

an engagement to dine at Watford, on my way back, and I confess,

moreover, that after what I had heard I did not feel disposed to

encounter the chance of another visit from the mysterious

stranger; so I declined the proffered hospitality, and took my

leave.

“Some time after this, I happened to be dining at C—— street,

in company with some ladies resident in the same county, when,

chancing to allude to my visit to Sarratt, I added, that I had

met with a very extraordinary adventure there, which I had never

been able to account for, when one of these ladies immediately

said that she hoped I had not had a visit from the headless

gentleman, in a blue coat and gilt buttons, who was said to have

been seen by many people in that house.

“Such is the conclusion of this marvellous tale as regards

myself; and I can only assure you that I have related facts as

they occurred, and that I had never heard a word about this

apparition in my life, till Mr. B—— related to me the

tradition above alluded to. Still, as I am no believer, in

supernatural appearances, I am constrained to suppose that the

whole affair was the product of my imagination.

“I must add, that Mr. B—— mentioned some strange circumstances

connected with another house in the county, inhabited by a Mr.

M——, which were corroborated by the ladies above alluded to.

Both parties agreed that, from the unaccountable noises, &c.,

&c., which were heard there, that gentleman had the greatest

difficulty in persuading any servants to remain with him.

“A—— W—— M——.

“_C—— street, 5th September, 1846._”

This is one of those curious instances of determined skepticism that

fully justify the patriarch’s prediction.

The following interesting letter, written by a member of a very

distinguished English family, will furnish its own explanation:—

“As you express a wish to know what degree of credit is to be attached

to a garbled tale which has been sent forth, after a lapse of between

thirty and forty years, as an ‘accredited ghost-story,’ I will state the

facts as they were recalled to my mind last year by a daughter of Sir

William A. C——, who sent the book to me, requesting me to tell her if

there was any foundation for the story, which she could scarcely

believe, since she had never heard my mother allude to it. I read the

narrative with surprise, it being evidently not furnished by any of the

family, nor indeed by any one who was with us at the time! yet, though

full of mistakes in names, &c., &c., some particulars come so near the

truth as to puzzle me. The facts are as follows:—

“Sir James, my mother, with myself and my brother Charles, went abroad

toward the end of the year 1786. After trying several different places,

we determined to settle at Lille, where we found the masters

particularly good, and where we had also letters of introduction to

several of the best French families. There Sir James left us, and, after

passing a few days in an uncomfortable lodging, we engaged a nice, large

family house, which we liked very much, and which we obtained at a very

low rent, even for that part of the world.

“About three weeks after we were established in our new residence, I

walked one day with my mother to the bankers, for the purpose of

delivering our letter of credit from Sir Robert Herries, and drawing

some money, which, being paid in heavy five-franc pieces, we found we

could not carry, and therefore requested the banker to send, saying, ‘We

live in the Place du Lion D’or.’ Whereupon he looked surprised, and

observed that he knew of no house there fit for us, ‘except, indeed,’ he

added, ‘the one that has been long uninhabited, on account of the

_revenant_ that walks about it.’ He said this quite seriously, and in a

natural tone of voice, in spite of which we laughed, and were quite

entertained at the idea of a ghost; but at the same time we begged him

not to mention the thing to our servants, lest they should take any

fancies into their heads; and my mother and I resolved to say nothing

about the matter to any one. ‘I suppose it is the ghost,’ said my

mother, laughing, ‘that wakes us so often by walking over our heads.’ We

had, in fact, been awakened several nights by a heavy foot, which we

supposed to be that of one of the men-servants, of whom we had three

English and four French; of women-servants we had five English, and all

the rest were French. The English ones, men and women, every one of

them, returned ultimately to England with us.

“A night or two afterward, being again awakened by the step, my mother

asked Creswell, ‘Who slept in the room above us?’ ‘No one, my lady,’ she

replied—‘it is a large, empty garret.’

“About a week or ten days after this, Creswell came to my mother, one

morning, and told her that all the French servants talked of going away,

because there was a _revenant_ in the house; adding that there seemed to

be a strange story attached to the place, which was said, together with

some other property, to have belonged to a young man, whose guardian,

who was also his uncle, had treated him cruelly and confined him in an

iron cage; and as he had subsequently disappeared, it was conjectured he

had been murdered. This uncle, after inheriting the property, had

suddenly quitted the house and sold it to the father of the man of whom

we had hired it. Since that period, though it had been several times

let, nobody had ever stayed in it above a week or two, and for a

considerable time past it had had no tenant at all.

“‘And do you really believe all this nonsense, Creswell?’ said my

mother.

“‘Well, I don’t know, my lady,’ answered she; ‘but there’s the iron cage

in the garret over your bed-room, where you may see it, if you please.’

“Of course we rose to go; and as just at that moment an old officer,

with his Croix de St. Louis, called on us, we invited him to accompany

us and we ascended together. We found, as Creswell had said, a large

empty garret with bare brick walls; and in the further corner of it

stood an iron cage, such as wild beasts are kept in, only higher; it was

about four feet square, and eight in height, and there was an iron ring

in the wall at the back, to which was attached an old rusty chain with a

collar fixed to the end of it. I confess it made my blood creep when I

thought of the possibility of any human being having inhabited it! And

our old friend expressed as much horror as ourselves, assuring us that

it must certainly have been constructed for some such dreadful purpose.

As, however, we were no believers in ghosts, we all agreed that the

noises must proceed from somebody who had an interest in keeping the

house empty; and since it was very disagreeable to imagine that there

were secret means of entering it at night, we resolved, as soon as

possible, to look out for another residence, and in the meantime to say

nothing about the matter to anybody. About ten days after this

determination, my mother, observing one morning that Creswell, when she

came to dress her, looked exceedingly pale and ill, inquired if anything

was the matter with her. ‘Indeed, my lady,’ she answered, ‘we have been

frightened to death, and neither I nor Mrs. Marsh can sleep again in the

room we are now in.’

“‘Well,’ returned my mother, ‘you shall both come and sleep in the

little spare room next us; but what has alarmed you?’

“‘Some one, my lady, went through our room in the night; we both saw the

figure, but we covered our heads with the bed-clothes, and lay in a

dreadful fright till morning.’

“On hearing this, I could not help laughing, upon which Creswell burst

into tears; and seeing how nervous she was, we comforted her by saying

we had heard of a good house, and that we should very soon abandon our

present habitation.

“A few nights afterward, my mother requested me and Charles to go to her

bed-room and fetch her frame, that she might prepare her work for the

next day. It was after supper, and we were ascending the stairs by the

light of a lamp which was always kept burning, when we saw going up

before us a tall, thin figure, with hair flowing down his back, and

wearing a loose powdering gown. We both at once concluded it was my

sister Hannah, and called out: ‘It won’t do, Hannah—you can not

frighten us!’ Upon which the figure turned into a recess in the wall;

but, as there was nobody there when we passed, we concluded that Hannah

had contrived, somehow or other, to slip away and make her escape by the

back stairs. On telling this to my mother, she said: ‘It is very odd,

for Hannah went to bed with a headache before you came in from your

walk;’ and sure enough, on going to her room, there we found her fast

asleep; and Alice, who was at work there, assured us that she had been

so for more than an hour. On mentioning this circumstance to Creswell,

she turned quite pale and exclaimed that that was precisely the figure

she and Marsh had seen in their bed-room.

“About this time, my brother Harry came to spend a few days with us, and

we gave him a room up another pair of stairs, at the opposite end of the

house. A morning or two after his arrival, when he came down to

breakfast, he asked my mother angrily whether she thought he went to bed

drunk and could not put out his own candle, that she sent those French

rascals to watch him. My mother assured him that she never thought of

doing such a thing; but he persisted in the accusation, adding: ‘Last

night I jumped up and opened the door, and, by the light of the moon

through the skylight, I saw the fellow in his loose gown at the bottom

of the stairs. If I had not been in my shirt, I would have gone after

him and made him remember coming to watch me.’

“We were now preparing to quit the house, having secured another,

belonging to a gentleman who was going to spend some time in Italy; but,

a few days before our removal, it happened that Mr. and Mrs. Atkyns,

some English friends of ours, called, to whom we mentioned these

circumstances, observing how extremely unpleasant it was to live in a

house that somebody found means of getting into, though how they

contrived it we could not discover, nor what their motive could be

except it was to frighten us; adding, that nobody could sleep in the

room Marsh and Creswell had been obliged to give up. Upon this Mrs.

Atkyns laughed heartily, and said she should like, of all things, to

sleep there, if my mother would allow her, adding, that with her little

terrier she should not be afraid of any ghost that ever appeared. As my

mother had, of course, no objection to this fancy of hers, she requested

Mrs. Atkyns to ride home with the groom, in order that the latter might

bring her night-things before the gates of the town would be shut, as

they were then residing a little way in the country. Mr. Atkyns smiled

and said she was very bold; but he made no difficulties, and sent the

things,—and his wife retired with her dog to her room when we retired

to ours, apparently without the least apprehension.

“When she came down in the morning, we were immediately struck at seeing

her look very ill; and on inquiring if she too had been frightened, she

said she had been awakened in the night by something moving in her room,

and that, by the light of the night-lamp, she saw most distinctly a

figure, and that the dog, which was spirited and flew at everything,

never stirred, although she had endeavored to make him. We saw clearly

that she had been very much alarmed; and when Mr. Atkyns came, and

endeavored to dissipate the feeling by persuading her that she might

have dreamed it, she got quite angry. We could not help thinking that

she had actually seen something; and my mother said, after she was gone,

that though she could not bring herself to believe it was really a

ghost, still she earnestly hoped that she might get out of the house

without seeing this figure, which frightened people so much.

“We were now within three days of the one fixed for our removal. I had

been taking a long ride, and, being tired, had fallen asleep the moment

I lay down; but, in the middle of the night, I was suddenly awakened—I

can not tell by what, for the steps over our heads we had become so used

to that it no longer disturbed us. Well, I awoke. I had been lying with

my face toward my mother, who was asleep beside me, and, as one usually

does on awaking, I turned to the other side, where, the weather being

warm, the curtain of the bed was undrawn, as it was, also, at the foot;

and I saw standing by a chest of drawers, which were betwixt me and the

window, a thin, tall figure, in a loose powdering gown, one arm resting

on the drawers, and the face turned toward me. I saw it quite distinctly

by the night-light, which burned clearly. It was a long, thin, pale,

young face, with, oh, such a melancholy expression as can never be

effaced from my memory! I was, certainly, very much frightened; but my

great horror was, lest my mother should awake and see the figure. I

turned my head gently toward her, and heard her breathing high in a

sound sleep. Just then the clock on the stairs struck four. I dare say

it was nearly an hour before I ventured to look again, and when I did

take courage to turn my eyes toward the drawers, there was nothing; yet

I had not heard the slightest sound, though I had been listening with

the greatest intensity.

“As you may suppose, I never closed my eyes again; and glad I was when

Creswell knocked at the door, as she did every morning, for we always

locked it, and it was my business to get out of bed and let her in; but

on this occasion, instead of doing so, I called out, ‘Come in; the door

is not fastened;’ upon which she answered that it was, and I was obliged

to get out of bed and admit her as usual.

“When I told my mother what had happened, she was very grateful to me

for not waking her, and commended me much for my resolution; but as she

was always my first object, that was not to be wondered at. She however

resolved not to risk another night in the house; and we got out of it

that very day, after instituting, with the aid of the servants, a

thorough search, with a view to ascertain if there was any possible

means of getting into the rooms except by the usual modes of ingress;

but our search was vain—none could be discovered.

“I think, from the errors in the names, &c., that the publisher of the

‘Accredited Ghost-Stories’ must have obtained his account from the

inhabitants of Lille.”

Considering the number of people that were in the house, the

fearlessness of the family, and their disinclination to believe in what

is called _the supernatural_, together with the great interest the owner

of this large and handsome residence must have had in discovering the

trick, if there had been one, I think it is difficult to find any other

explanation of this strange story, than that the sad and disappointed

spirit of this poor, injured, and probably murdered boy, had never been

disengaged from its earthly relations, to which regret for its

frustrated hopes and violated rights still held it attached.

There is a story told by Pliny the younger, of a house at Athens, in

which nobody could live, from its being haunted. At length the

philosopher Athenadorus took it; and the first night he was there, he

seems to have comported himself very much as the courageous Mrs. Canning

did, on a similar occasion, at Plymouth. He sent his servants to bed,

and set himself seriously to work with his writing materials, determined

that fancy should not be left free to play him false. For some time all

was still, and his mind was wholly engaged in his labors, when he heard

a sound like the rattling of chains—which was the sound that had

frightened everybody out of the house; but Athenadorus closed his ears,

kept his thoughts collected, and wrote on, without lifting up his eyes.

The noise, however, increased; it approached the door; it entered the

room; then he looked round, and beheld the figure of an old man, lean,

haggard, and dirty, with dishevelled hair, and a long beard, who held up

his finger and beckoned him. Athenadorus made a gesture with his own

hand in return, signifying that he should wait, and went on with his

writing. Then the figure advanced and shook his chains over the

philosopher’s head, who, on looking up, saw him beckoning as before;

whereupon he arose and followed him. The apparition walked slowly, as if

obstructed by his chains; and having conducted him to a certain spot in

the court, which separated the two divisions of an ancient Greek house,

he suddenly disappeared. Athenadorus gathered together some grass and

leaves, in order to mark the place; and the next day he recommended the

authorities to dig there, which they did, and found the skeleton of a

human being encircled with chains. It being taken up, and the rights of

sepulture duly performed, the house was no longer disturbed.

This was, probably, some poor prisoner also; and in his desire to direct

notice to his body, we see the prejudices of his age and country

surviving dissolution. Grose, the antiquary, who is, as I have before

observed, very facetious on the subject of ghosts, remarks that

“Dragging chains is not the custom of English ghosts, chains and black

vestments being chiefly the accoutrements of foreign spectres, seen in

arbitrary governments.” Now, this is a very striking observation.

Grose’s studies had, doubtless, introduced him to many histories of this

description; and the different characteristics of these apparitions,

under different governments, is a circumstance in remarkable conformity

with the views of those who have been led to take a much more serious

view of the subject. They appear as they lived, and as they conceive of

themselves; and when rapport or receptivity enable them to see, and to

render themselves visible to those yet living in the flesh, it is by so

appearing that they tell their story, and ask for sympathy and

assistance. I say enable them _to see_, because there seem many reasons

for concluding that they do not, under ordinary circumstances, see us,

any more than we see them. Whether it be rapport with certain

inhabitants, or whether the phenomenon be dependent on certain periods,

or any other condition, we can not tell; but I have met with several

accounts of houses in which an annoyance of this sort has recurred more

than once, at different intervals, sometimes at a distance of seven or

ten years, the intermediate time being quite free from it.

One of the most melancholy and impressive circumstances of this sort I

have met with, occurred to Mrs. L——, a lady with whose family I am

acquainted; Mrs. L—— herself having been kind enough to furnish me

with the particulars: A few years since, she took a furnished house in

Stevenson street, North Shields, and she had been in it but a very few

hours before she was perplexed by hearing feet in the passage, though,

whenever she opened the door, she could see nobody. She went to the

kitchen, and asked the servant if she had not heard the same sound. She

said she had not, but that there seemed to be strange noises in the

house. When Mrs. L—— went to bed, she could not go to sleep for the

noise of a child’s rattle, which seemed to be inside her curtains. It

rattled round her head, first on one side, then on the other; then there

were sounds of feet, and of a child crying, and a woman sobbing; and, in

short, so many strange noises that the servant became frightened and

went away. The next girl Mrs. L—— engaged came from Leith, and was a

stranger to the place; but she had only passed a night in the house,

when she said to her mistress, “This is a troubled house you’ve got

into, ma’am;” and she described, among the rest, that she had repeatedly

heard her own name called by a voice near her, though she could see

nobody.

One night Mrs. L—— heard a voice, like nothing human, close to her,

cry, “Weep! weep! weep!” Then there was a sound like some one struggling

for breath, and again “Weep! weep! weep!” Then the gasping, and a third

time, “Weep! weep! weep!” She stood still, and looked steadfastly on the

spot whence the voice proceeded, but could see nothing; and her little

boy, who held her hand, kept saying, “What is that, mamma? What is

that?” She describes the sound as most frightful. All the noises seemed

to suggest the idea of childhood, and of a woman in trouble. One night,

when it was crying round her bed, Mrs. L—— took courage and adjured

it; upon which the noise ceased, for that time, but there was no answer.

Mr. L—— was at sea when she took the house, and when he came home he

laughed at the story at first, but soon became so convinced the account

she gave was correct, that he wanted to have the boards taken up,

because, from the noises seeming to hover much about one spot, he

thought perhaps some explanation of the mystery might be found. But Mrs.

L—— objected that if anything of a painful nature were discovered she

should not be able to continue in the house, and as she must pay the

year’s rent, she wished, if possible, to make out the time.

She never saw anything but twice; once, the appearance of a child seemed

to fall from the ceiling, close to her, and then disappear; and another

time she saw a child run into a closet in a room at the top of the

house; and it was most remarkable that a small door in that room, which

was used for going out on to the roof, always stood open. However often

they shut it, it was opened again immediately by an unseen hand, even

before they got out of the room; and this continued the whole time they

were in the house; while, night and day, some one in creaking shoes was

heard pacing backward and forward in the room over Mr. and Mrs. L——’s

heads.

At length the year expired; and to their great relief they quitted the

house; but five or six years afterward, a person who had bought it

having taken up the floor of that upper room to repair it, there was

found, close to the small door above alluded to, the skeleton of a

child. It was then remembered that some years before a gentleman of

somewhat dissolute habits had resided there, and that he was supposed to

have been on very intimate terms with a young woman-servant who lived

with him, but there had been no suspicion of anything more criminal.

About six years ago, Mr. C——, a gentleman engaged in business in

London, heard of a good country-house in the neighborhood of the

metropolis, which was to be had at a low rent. It was rather an

old-fashioned place, and was surrounded by a garden and pleasure-ground;

and having taken a lease of it for seven years, furnished as it was, his

family removed thither, and he joined them once or twice a week, as his

business permitted.

They had been some considerable time in the house without the occurrence

of anything remarkable, when one evening, toward dusk, Mrs. C——, on

going into what was called the oak bed-room, saw a female figure near

one of the windows. It was apparently a young woman with dark hair

hanging over her shoulders, a silk petticoat, and a short, white robe,

and she appeared to be looking eagerly through the window, as if

expecting somebody. Mrs. C—— clapped her hand upon her eyes, “as

thinking she had seen something she ought not to have seen,” and when

she looked again the figure had disappeared.

Shortly after this, a young girl who filled the situation of under

nursery-maid, came to her in great agitation, saying that she had had a

terrible fright, from seeing a very ugly old woman looking in upon her

as she passed the window in the lobby. The girl was trembling violently,

and almost crying, so that Mrs. C—— entertained no doubts of the

reality of her alarm. She, however, thought it advisable to laugh her

out of her fear, and went with her to the window, which looked into a

closed court, but there was no one there, neither had any of the other

servants seen such a person. Soon after this, the family began to find

themselves disturbed with strange, and frequently very loud, noises

during the night. Among the rest, there was something like the beating

of a crow-bar upon the pump in the abovementioned court; but, search as

they would, they could discover no cause for the sound. One day, when

Mr. C—— had brought a friend from London to stay the night with him,

Mrs. C—— thought proper to go up to the oak bed-room, where the

stranger was to sleep, for the purpose of inspecting the arrangements

for his comfort, when, to her great surprise, some one seemed to follow

her up to the fireplace, though, on turning round, there was nobody to

be seen. She said nothing about it, however, and returned below, where

her husband and the stranger were sitting. Presently, one of the

servants (not the one mentioned above) tapped at the door and requested

to speak with her, and Mrs. C—— going out, she told her, in great

agitation, that in going up stairs to the visiter’s room, a footstep had

followed her all the way to the fireplace, although she could see

nobody. Mrs. C—— said something soothing, and that matter passed, she,

herself, being a good deal puzzled, but still unwilling to admit the

idea that there was anything extra-natural in these occurrences.

Repeatedly, after this, these footsteps were heard in different parts of

the house, when nobody was to be seen; and often, while she was lying in

bed, she heard them distinctly approach her door, when, being a very

courageous woman, she would start out with a loaded pistol in her hand,

but there was never any one to be seen. At length it was impossible to

conceal from herself and her servants that these occurrences were of an

extraordinary nature, and the latter, as may be supposed, felt very

uncomfortable. Among other unpleasant things, while sitting all together

in the kitchen, they used to see the latch lifted and the door open,

though no one came in that they could see; and when Mr. C—— himself

watched for these events, although they took place, and he was quite on

the alert, he altogether failed in detecting any visible agent.

One night, the same servant who had heard the footsteps following her to

the bed-room fireplace, happening to be asleep in Mrs. C——’s chamber,

she became much disturbed, and was heard to murmur, “Wake me! wake me!”

as if in great mental anguish. Being aroused, she told her mistress a

dream she had had, which seemed to throw some light upon these

mysteries. She thought she was in the oak bed-room, and at one end of it

she saw a young female in an old-fashioned dress, with long dark hair,

while in another part of the room was a very ugly old woman, also in

old-fashioned attire. The latter addressing the former said, “What have

you done with the child, Emily? What have you done with the child?” To

which the younger figure answered, “Oh, I did not kill it. He was

preserved, and grew up, and joined the —— regiment, and went to

India.” Then addressing the sleeper, the young lady continued, “I have

never spoken to mortal before; but I will tell you all. My name is Miss

Black; and this old woman is Nurse Black. Black is not her name, but we

call her so because she has been so long in the family.” Here the old

woman interrupted the speaker by coming up and laying her hand on the

dreaming girl’s shoulder, while she said something; but she could not

remember what, for, feeling excruciating pain from the touch, she had

been so far aroused as to be sensible she was asleep, and to beg to be

wholly awakened.

As the old woman seemed to resemble the figure that one of the other

servants had seen looking into the window, and the young one resembled

that she had herself seen in the oak chamber, Mrs. C—— naturally

concluded that there was something extraordinary about this dream, and

she consequently took an early opportunity of inquiring in the

neighborhood what was known as to the names or circumstances of the

former inhabitants of this house; and, after much investigation, she

learned that, about seventy or eighty years before, it had been in the

possession of a Mrs. Ravenhall, who had a niece, named Miss Black,

living with her. This niece Mrs. C—— supposed might be the younger of

the two persons who was seen. Subsequently, she saw her again in the

same room, wringing her hands, and looking with a mournful significance

to one corner. They had the boards taken up on that spot, but nothing

was found.

One of the most curious incidents, connected with this story, remains to

be told. After occupying the house three years, they were preparing to

quit it—not on account of its being haunted, but for other

reasons—when on awaking one morning, a short time before their

departure, Mrs. C—— saw, standing at the foot of her bed, a

dark-complexioned man, in a working dress, a fustian jacket, and red

comforter round his neck—who, however, suddenly disappeared. Mr. C——

was lying beside her at the time, but asleep. This was the last

apparition seen. But the strange thing is, that a few days after this,

it being necessary to order in a small quantity of coals to serve till

their removal, Mr. C—— undertook to perform the commission on his way

to London. Accordingly, the next day, she mentioned to him that the

coals had arrived; which he said was very fortunate, since he had

entirely forgotten to order them. Wondering whence they had come, Mrs.

C—— hereupon inquired of the servants, who none of them knew anything

about the matter; but on interrogating a person in the village, by whom

they had frequently been provided with this article, he answered that

they had been ordered by a dark man, in a fustian jacket and red

comfort, who had called for the purpose.

After this last event, Mr. and Mrs. C—— quitted the house; but I have

heard that its subsequent tenants encountered some similar annoyances,

although I have no means of ascertaining the particulars.

But perhaps one of the most remarkable cases of haunting in modern

times, is that of Willington, near Newcastle, in my account of which,

however, I find myself anticipated by Mr. Howitt; and as he has had the

advantage of visiting the place, which I have not, I shall take the

liberty of borrowing his description of it, prefacing the account with

the following letter from Mr. Proctor, the owner of the house, who it

will be seen vouches for the general authenticity of the narrative. The

letter was written in answer to one from me, requesting some more

precise information than I had been able to obtain:—

“Josh. Proctor hopes C. Crowe will excuse her note having remained two

weeks unanswered, during which time J. P. has been from home, or

particularly engaged. Feeling averse to add to the publicity the

circumstances occurring in his house, at Willington, have already

obtained, J. P. would rather not furnish additional particulars; but if

C. C. is not in possession of the number of ‘Howitt’s Journal,’ which

contains a variety of details on the subject, he will be glad to forward

her one. He would, at the same time, assure C. Crowe of the strict

accuracy of that portion of W. Howitt’s narrative which is extracted

from ‘Richardson’s Table Book.’ W. Howitt’s statements, derived from his

recollection of verbal communications with branches of J. Proctor’s

family, are likewise essentially correct, though, as might be expected

in some degree, erroneous circumstantially.

“J. P. takes leave to express his conviction that the unbelief of the

educated classes in apparitions of the deceased and kindred phenomena is

not grounded on a fair philosophic examination of the facts, which have

induced the popular belief of all ages and countries; and that it will

be found by succeeding ages to have been nothing better than unreasoning

and unreasonable prejudice.

“_Willington, near Newcastle-on-Tyne_,

_7th mo. 22, 1847_.”

“VISITS TO REMARKABLE PLACES.

“BY WILLIAM HOWITT.

“THE HAUNTED HOUSE AT WILLINGTON, NEAR NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE.

“We have of late years settled it as an established fact that ghosts and

haunted houses were the empty creation of ignorant times. We have

comfortably persuaded ourselves that such fancies only hovered in the

twilight of superstition, and that in these enlightened days they had

vanished for ever. How often has it been triumphantly referred to, as a

proof that all such things were the offspring of ignorance, that nothing

of the kind is heard of now? What shall we say, then, to the following

facts? Here we have ghosts and a haunted house still. We have them in

the face of our vaunted noonday light—in the midst of a busy and a

populous neighborhood—in the neighborhood of a large and most

intelligent town—and in a family neither ignorant nor in any other

respect superstitious. For years have these ghosts and hauntings

disturbed the quiet of a highly respectable family, and continue to

haunt and disturb, spite of the incredulity of the wise, the

investigations of the curious, and the anxious vigilance of the

suffering family itself.

“Between the railway running from Newcastle-on-Tyne to North Shields,

and the river Tyne, there lie in a hollow some few cottages, a

parsonage, a mill, and a miller’s house: these constitute the hamlet of

Willington. Just above these the railway is carried across the valley on

lofty arches, and from it you look down on the mill and cottages, lying

at a considerable depth below. The mill is a large steam flour-mill,

like a factory, and the miller’s house stands near it, but not adjoining

it. None of the cottages which lie between these premises and the

railway, either, are in contact with them. The house stands on a sort of

little promontory, round which runs the channel of a water-course, which

appears to fill and empty with the tides. On one side of the mill and

house, slopes away upward a field to a considerable distance, where it

is terminated by other enclosures; on the other stands a considerable

extent of ballast-hill—_i. e._, one of the numerous hills on the banks

of the Tyne made by the deposite of ballast from the vessels trading

thither. At a distance, the top of the mill seems about level with the

country around it. The place lies about half-way between Newcastle and

North Shields.

“This mill is, I believe, the property of, and is worked by, Messrs.

Unthank and Procter. Mr. Joseph Procter resides on the spot in the house

just by the mill, as already stated. He is a member of the society of

friends—a gentleman in the very prime of life—and his wife, an

intelligent lady, is of a family of friends in Carlisle. They have

several young children. This very respectable and well-informed family,

belonging to a sect which of all others is most accustomed to control,

to regulate, and to put down even the imagination—the last people in

the world, as it would appear, in fact, to be affected by any mere

imaginary terrors or impressions—have for years been persecuted by the

most extraordinary noises and apparitions.

“The house is not an old house, as will appear; it was built about the

year 1800. It has no particularly spectral look about it. Seeing it in

passing, or within, ignorant of its real character, one should by no

means say that it was a place likely to have the reputation of being

haunted. Yet looking down from the railway, and seeing it and the mill

lying in a deep hole, one might imagine various strange noises likely to

be heard in such a place in the night, from vessels on the river—from

winds sweeping and howling down the gulley in which it stands—from

engines in the neighborhood connected with coal-mines, one of which, I

could not tell where, was making at the time I was there a wild sighing

noise, as I stood on the hill above. There is not any passage, however,

known of under the house, by which subterranean noises could be heard;

nor are they merely noises that are heard,—distinct apparitions are

declared to be seen.

“Spite of the unwillingness of Mr. Procter, that these mysterious

circumstances should become quite public, and averse as he is to make

known himself these strange visitations, they were of such a nature that

they soon became rumored over the whole neighborhood. Numbers of people

hurried to the place to inquire into the truth of them, and at length a

remarkable occurrence brought them into print. What this occurrence was,

the pamphlet which appeared, and which was afterward reprinted in ‘The

Local Historian’s Table-Book,’ published by Mr. M. A. Richardson, of

Newcastle, and which I here copy, will explain. It will be seen that the

writer of this article has the fullest faith in the reality of what he

relates, as, indeed, vast numbers of the best informed inhabitants of

the neighborhood have.

“AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT OF A VISIT TO THE HAUNTED HOUSE

AT WILLINGTON.

“Were we to draw an inference from the number of cases of reported

visitations from the invisible world that have been made public of late,

we might be led to imagine that the days of supernatural agency were

about to recommence, and that ghosts and hobgoblins were about to resume

their sway over the fears of mankind. Did we, however, indulge in such

an apprehension, a glance at the current tone of the literature and

philosophy of the day, when treating of these subjects, would show a

measure of unbelief regarding them as scornful and uncompromising as the

veriest atheist or materialist could desire. Notwithstanding the

prevalence of this feeling among the educated classes, there is a

curiosity and interest manifested in every occurrence of this nature,

that indicate a lurking faith at bottom, which an affected skepticism

fails entirely to conceal. We feel, therefore, that we need not

apologise to our readers for introducing the following particulars of a

_visit_ to a house in this immediate neighborhood, which had become

notorious for some years previous, as being ‘haunted;’ and several of

the reputed deeds, or misdeeds, of its supernatural visitant had been

published far and wide by rumor’s thousand tongues. We deem it as worthy

to be chronicled as the doings of its contemporary _genii_ at Windsor,

Dublin, Liverpool, Carlisle, and Sunderland, and which have all likewise

hitherto failed, after public investigation, to receive a solution

consistent with a rejection of spiritual agency.

“We have visited the house in question, which is well known to many of

our readers, as being near a large steam corn-mill, in full view of

Willington viaduct, on the Newcastle and Shields railway; and it may not

be irrelevant to mention that it is quite detached from the mill, or any

other premises, and has no cellaring under it. The proprietor of the

house, who lives in it, declines to make public the particulars of the

disturbance to which he has been subjected, and it must be understood

that the account of the visit we are about to lay before our readers is

derived from a friend to whom Dr. Drury presented a copy of his

correspondence on the subject, with power to make such use of it as he

thought proper. We learned that the house had been reputed, at least one

room in it, to have been haunted forty years ago, and had afterward been

undisturbed for a long period, during some years of which quietude the

present occupant lived in it unmolested. We are also informed that about

the time that the premises were building, viz., in 1800 or 1801, there

were reports of some deed of darkness having been committed by some one

employed about them. We should extend this account beyond the limits we

have set to ourselves, did we now enter upon a full account of the

strange things which have been seen and heard about the place by several

of the neighbors, as well as those which are reported to have been seen,

heard, and felt, by the inmates, whose servants have been changed, on

that account, many times. We proceed, therefore, to give the following

letters which have been passed between individuals of undoubted

veracity, leaving the reader to draw his own conclusions on the

subject.”

“(COPY, NO. 1.)

“_17th June, 1840._

“TO MR. PROCTER:

“SIR: Having heard from indisputable authority, viz., that of my

excellent friend, Mr. Davison, of Low Willington, farmer, that

you and your family are disturbed by most unaccountable noises

at night, I beg leave to tell you that I have read attentively

Wesley’s account of such things, but with, I must confess, no

great belief; but an account of this report coming from one of

your sect, which I admire for candor and simplicity, my

curiosity is excited to a high pitch, which I would fain

satisfy. My desire is to remain alone in the house all night

with no companion but my own watch-dog, in which, as far as

courage and fidelity are concerned, I place much more reliance

than upon any three young gentlemen I know of. And it is also my

hope that, if I have a fair trial, I shall be able to unravel

this mystery. Mr. Davison will give you every satisfaction if

you take the trouble to inquire of him concerning me.

“I am, sir, yours most respectfully,

“EDWARD DRURY.

“At C. C. Embleton’s, Surgeon,

“_No. 10 Church street, Sunderland_.”

“(COPY, NO. 2.)

“Joseph Procter’s respects to Edward Drury, whose note he

received a few days ago, expressing a wish to pass a night in

his house at Willington. As the family is going from home on the

23d instant, and one of Unthank and Procter’s men will sleep in

the house, if Edward Drury feel inclined to come on or after the

24th, to spend a night in it, he is at liberty so to do, with or

without his faithful dog, which, by-the-by, can be of no

possible use, except as company. At the same time, Joseph

Procter thinks it best to inform him that particular

disturbances are far from frequent at present, being only

occasional, and quite uncertain, and therefore the satisfaction

of Edward Drury’s curiosity must be considered as problematical.

The best chance will be afforded by sitting up alone in the

third story, till it be fairly daylight, say two or three A. M.

“_Willington, 6th mo. 21st, 1840.”_

“Joseph Procter will leave word with T. Maun, foreman, to admit

Edward Drury.

“Mr. Procter left home with his family on the 23d of June, and

got an old servant, who was then out of place in consequence of

ill-health, to take charge of the house during their absence.

Mr. Procter returned alone, on account of business, on the 3d of

July, on the evening of which day Mr. Drury and his companion

also unexpectedly arrived. After the house had been locked up,

every corner of it was minutely examined. The room out of which

the apparition issued is too shallow to contain any person. Mr.

Drury and his friend had lights by them, and were satisfied that

there was no one in the house besides Mr. Procter, the servant,

and themselves.”

“(COPY, NO. 3.)

“MONDAY MORNING, _July 6th, 1840_.

“_To Mr. Procter_:

“DEAR SIR: I am sorry I was not at home to receive you

yesterday, when you kindly called to inquire for me. I am happy

to state, that I am really surprised that I have been so little

affected as I am, after that horrid and most awful affair. The

only bad effect that I feel is a heavy dullness in one of my

ears, the right one. I call it heavy dullness because I not only

do not hear distinctly, but feel in it a constant noise. This I

never was affected with before; but I doubt not it will go off.

I am persuaded that no one went to your house at any time more

_disbelieving in respect to seeing anything peculiar_; and now

no one can be more satisfied than myself. I will, in the course

of a few days, send you a full detail of all I saw and heard.

Mr. Spence and two other gentlemen came down to my house in the

afternoon to hear my detail; but, sir, could I account for these

noises from natural causes, yet so firmly am I persuaded of the

horrid apparition, that I would affirm that what I saw with my

eyes was a punishment to me for my scoffing and unbelief; that I

am assured that, as far as the horror is concerned, they are

happy that believe and have not seen. Let me trouble you, sir,

to give me the address of your sister, from Cumberland, who was

alarmed, and also of your brother. I would feel a satisfaction

in having a line from them; and, above all things, it will be a

great cause of joy to me, if you never allow your young family

to be in that horrid house again. Hoping you will write a few

lines at your leisure,

“I remain, dear sir, yours very truly,

“EDWARD DRURY.”

“(COPY, NO. 4.)

“WILLINGTON, _7th mo. 9, 1840_.

“RESPECTED FRIEND, E. DRURY: Having been at Sunderland, I did

not receive thine of the 6th till yesterday morning. I am glad

to hear thou art getting well over the effects of thy

unlooked-for visitation. I hold in respect thy bold and manly

assertion of the truth, in the face of that ridicule and

ignorant conceit with which that which is called the

supernatural, in the present day, is usually assailed.

“I shall be glad to receive thy detail, in which it will be

needful to be very particular in showing that thou couldst not

be asleep or attacked by nightmare, or mistake a reflection of

the candle, as some sagaciously suppose.

“I remain, respectfully, thy friend,

“JOSH. PROCTER.

“P. S.—I have about thirty witnesses to various things which

can not be satisfactorily accounted for on any other principle

than that of spiritual agency.”

“(COPY, NO. 5.)

“SUNDERLAND, _July 13, 1840_.

“DEAR SIR: I hereby, according to promise in my last letter,

forward you a true account of what I heard and saw at your

house, in which I was led to pass the night from various rumors

circulated by most respectable parties—particularly from an

account by my esteemed friend Mr. Davison, whose name I

mentioned to you in a former letter. Having received your

sanction to visit your mysterious dwelling, I went on the 3d of

July, accompanied by a friend of mine, T. Hudson. This was not

according to promise, nor in accordance with my first intent, as

I wrote to you I would come alone; but I felt gratified at your

kindness in not alluding to the liberty I had taken, as it

ultimately proved for the best. I must here mention that, not

expecting you at home, I had in my pocket a brace of pistols,

determining in my mind to let one of them drop before the

miller, as if by accident, for fear he should presume to play

tricks upon me; but, after my interview with you, I felt there

was no occasion for weapons, and did not load them, after you

had allowed us to inspect as minutely as we pleased every

portion of the house. I sat down on the third story landing,

fully expecting to account for any noises that I might hear, in

a philosophical manner. This was about eleven o’clock P. M.

About ten minutes to twelve, we both heard a noise, as if a

number of people were pattering with their bare feet upon the

floor; and yet so singular was the noise, that I could not

minutely determine whence it proceeded. A few minutes afterward

we heard a noise, as if some one was knocking with his knuckles

among our feet; this was followed by a hollow cough from the

very room from which the apparition proceeded. The only noise

after this, was as if a person was rustling against the wall in

coming up stairs. At a quarter to one, I told my friend that,

feeling a little cold, I would like to go to bed, as we might

hear the noise equally well there; he replied that he would not

go to bed till daylight. I took up a note which I had

accidentally dropped, and began to read it, after which I took

out my watch to ascertain the time, and found that it wanted ten

minutes to one. In taking my eyes from the watch, they became

riveted upon a closet-door, which I distinctly saw open, and saw

also the figure of a female attired in grayish garments, with

the head inclining downward, and one hand pressed upon the chest

as if in pain, and the other, viz., the right hand, extended

toward the floor, with the index finger pointing downward. It

advanced with an apparently cautious step across the floor

toward me; immediately as it approached my friend, who was

slumbering, its right hand was extended toward him: I then

rushed at it, giving, as Mr. Procter states, a most awful yell;

but, instead of grasping it, I fell upon my friend, and I

recollected nothing distinctly for nearly three hours afterward.

I have since learned that I was carried down stairs in an agony

of fear and terror.

“I hereby certify that the above account is strictly true and

correct in every respect.

“EDWARD DRURY.

“_North Shields.”_

“The following more recent case of an apparition seen in the

window of the same house from the outside, by four credible

witnesses, who had the opportunity of scrutinizing it for more

than ten minutes, is given on most unquestionable authority. One

of these witnesses is a young lady, a near connection of the

family, who, for obvious reasons, did not sleep in the house;

another, a respectable man, who has been many years employed in,

and is foreman of, the manufactory; his daughter, aged about

seventeen; and his wife, who first saw the object and called out

the others to view it. The appearance presented was that of a

bareheaded man, in a flowing robe like a surplice, who glided

backward and forward about three feet from the floor, or level

with the bottom of the second story window, seeming to enter the

wall on each side, and thus present a side view in passing. It

then stood still in the window, and a part of the body came

through both the blind, which was close down, and the window, as

its luminous body intercepted the view of the framework of the

window. It was semi-transparent, and as bright as a star,

diffusing a radiance all around. As it grew more dim, it assumed

a blue tinge, and gradually faded away from the head downward.

The foreman passed twice close to the house under the window,

and also went to inform the family, but found the house locked

up. There was no moonlight, nor a ray of light visible anywhere

about, and no person near. Had any magic lantern been used, it

could not possibly have escaped detection; and it is obvious

nothing of that kind could have been employed on the inside, as

in that case the light could only have been thrown upon the

blind, and not so as to intercept the view both of the blind and

of the window from without. The owner of the house slept in that

room, and must have entered it shortly after this figure had

disappeared.

“It may well be supposed what a sensation the report of the

visit of Mr. Drury and its result must have created. It flew far

and wide, and when it appeared in print, still wider; and, what

was not a little singular, Mr. Procter received, in consequence,

a great number of letters from individuals of different ranks

and circumstances, including many of much property, informing

him that their residences were, and had been for years, subject

to annoyances of precisely a similar character.

“So, the ghosts and the hauntings are not gone, after all! We

have turned our backs on them, and, in the pride of our

philosophy, have refused to believe in them; but they have

persisted in remaining, notwithstanding!

“These singular circumstances being at various times related by

parties acquainted with the family at Willington, I was curious,

on a tour northward some time ago, to pay this haunted house a

visit, and to solicit a night’s lodging there. Unfortunately the

family was absent, on a visit to Mrs. Procter’s relatives in

Carlisle, so that my principal purpose was defeated; but I found

the foreman and his wife, mentioned in the foregoing narrative,

living just by. They spoke of the facts above detailed with the

simple earnestness of people who had no doubts whatever on the

subject. The noises and apparitions in and about this house

seemed just like any other facts connected with it—as matters

too palpable and positive to be questioned, any more than that

the house actually stood, and the mill ground. They mentioned to

me the circumstance of the young lady, as above stated, who took

up her lodging in their house, because she would no longer

encounter the annoyances of the haunted house—and what trouble

it had occasioned the family in procuring and retaining

servants.

“The wife accompanied me into the house, which I found in charge

of a recently-married servant and her husband, during the

absence of the family. This young woman—who had, previous to

her marriage, lived some time in the house—had never seen

anything, and therefore had no fear. I was shown over the house,

and especially into the room on the third story, the main haunt

of the unwelcome visiters, and where Dr. Drury had received such

an alarm. This room, as stated, was and had been for some time

abandoned as a bed-room, from its bad character, and was

occupied as a lumber-room.

“At Carlisle, I again missed Mr. Procter: he had returned to

Willington, so that I lost the opportunity of hearing from him

or Mrs. Procter any account of these singular matters. I saw,

however, various members of his wife’s family, most intelligent

people, of the highest character for sound and practical sense,

and they were unanimous in their confirmation of the particulars

I had heard, and which are here related.

“One of Mrs. Procter’s brothers—a gentleman in middle life, and

of a peculiarly sensible, sedate, and candid disposition, a

person apparently most unlikely to be imposed on by fictitious

alarms or tricks—assured me that he had himself, on a visit

there, been disturbed by the strangest noises; that he had

resolved, before going, that if any such noises occurred, he

would speak, and demand of the invisible actor who he was, and

why he came thither: but the occasion came, and he found himself

unable to fulfil his intention. As he lay in bed one night, he

heard a heavy step ascend the stairs toward his room, and some

one striking, as it were, with a thick stick on the banisters,

as he went along. It came to his door, and he essayed to call,

but his voice died in his throat. He then sprang from his bed,

and, opening the door, found no one there—but now heard the

same heavy steps deliberately descending, though invisible, the

steps before his face, and accompanying the descent with the

same loud blows on the banisters.

“My informant now proceeded to the room-door of Mr. Procter, who

he found had also heard the sounds, and who now also arose, and

with a light they made a speedy descent below, and a thorough

search there, but without discovering anything that could

account for the occurrence.

“The two young ladies, who, on a visit there, had also been

annoyed by this invisible agent, gave me this account of it: The

first night, as they were sleeping in the same bed, they felt

the bed lifted up beneath them. Of course, they were much

alarmed. They feared lest some one had concealed himself there

for the purpose of robbery. They gave an alarm, search was made,

but nothing was found. On another night, their bed was violently

shaken, and the curtains suddenly hoisted up[3] all round to the

very tester, as if pulled by cords, and as rapidly let down

again, several times! Search again produced no evidence of the

cause. The next, they had the curtains totally removed from the

bed, resolving to sleep without them, as they felt as though

evil eyes were lurking behind them. The consequences of this,

however, were still more striking and terrific. The following

night, as they happened to awake, and the chamber was light

enough (for it was summer) to see everything in it, they both

saw a female figure, of a misty substance, and bluish-gray hue,

come out of the wall at the bed’s head, and through the

head-board, in a horizontal position, and lean over them. They

saw it most distinctly—they saw it as a female figure come out

of, and again pass into, the wall. Their terror became intense,

and one of the sisters from that night refused to sleep any more

in the house, but took refuge in the house of the foreman during

her stay; the other shifting her quarters to another part of the

house. It was the young lady who slept at the foreman’s who saw,

as above related, the singular apparition of the luminous figure

in the window, along with the foreman and his wife.

“It would be too long to relate all the forms in which this

nocturnal disturbance is said by the family to present itself.

When a figure appears, it is sometimes that of a man, as already

described, which is often very luminous, and passes through the

walls as though they were nothing. This male figure is well

known to the neighbors by the name of “Old Jeffrey!” At other

times, it is the figure of a lady, also in gray costume, and as

described by Mr. Drury. She is sometimes seen sitting wrapped in

a sort of mantle, with her head depressed, and her hands crossed

on her lap. The most terrible fact is, that she is without eyes.

“To hear such sober and superior people gravely relate to you

such things, gives you a very odd feeling. They say that the

noise made is often like that of a pavior with his rammer

thumping on the floor. At other times it is coming down stairs,

making a similar loud sound. At others it coughs, sighs, and

groans, like a person in distress; and, again, there is the

sound of a number of little feet pattering on the floor of the

upper chamber, where the apparition has more particularly

exhibited itself, and which, for that reason, is solely used as

a lumber-room. Here these little footsteps may be often heard as

if careering a child’s carriage about, which in bad weather is

kept up there. Sometimes, again, it makes the most horrible

laughs. Nor does it always confine itself to the night. On one

occasion, a young lady, as she assured me herself, opened the

door in answer to a knock, the housemaid being absent, and a

lady in fawn-colored silk entered, and proceeded up stairs. As

the young lady, of course, supposed it a neighbor come to make a

morning call on Mrs. Procter, she followed her up to the

drawing-room, where, however, to her astonishment, she did not

find her, nor was anything more seen of her.

“Such are a few of the ‘questionable shapes’ in which this

troublesome guest comes. As may be expected, terror of it is

felt by the neighboring cottagers, though it seems to confine

its malicious disturbance almost solely to the occupants of this

one house. There is a well, however, near to which no one

ventures after it is dark, because it has been seen near it.

“It is useless to attempt to give any opinion respecting the

real causes of these strange sounds and sights. How far they may

be real or imaginary, how far they may be explicable by natural

causes or not—the only thing which we have here to record is,

the very singular fact of a most respectable and intelligent

family having for many years been continually annoyed by them,

as well as their visiters. They express themselves as most

anxious to obtain any clew to the true cause, as may be seen by

Mr. Procter’s ready acquiescence in the experiment of Mr. Drury.

So great a trouble is it to them, that they have contemplated

the necessity of quitting the house altogether, though it would

create great inconvenience as regarded business. And it only

remains to be added that we have not heard very recently whether

these visitations are still continued, though we have a letter

of Mr. Procter’s to a friend of ours, dated September, 1844, in

which he says: ‘Disturbances have for a length of time been only

very unfrequent, which is a comfort, as the elder children are

getting old enough (about nine or ten years) to be more

injuriously affected by anything of the sort.’

“Over these facts let the philosophers ponder, and if any of

them be powerful enough to exorcise ‘Old Jeffrey,’ or the

bluish-gray and misty lady, we are sure that Mr. Joseph Procter

will hold himself deeply indebted to them. We have lately heard

that Mr. Procter has discovered an old book, which makes it

appear that the very same ‘hauntings’ took place in an old

house, on the very same spot, at least two hundred years ago.”

To the above information, furnished by Mr. Howitt, I have to subjoin

that the family of Mr. Procter are now quitting the house, which he

intends to divide into small tenements for the work-people. A friend of

mine who lately visited Willington, and who went over the house with Mr.

Procter, assures me that the annoyances still continue, though less

frequent than formerly. Mr. Procter informed her that the female figure

generally appeared in a shroud, and that it had been seen in that guise

by one of the family only a few days before. A wish being expressed by a

gentleman visiting Mr. Procter that some natural explanation of these

perplexing circumstances might be discovered, the latter declared his

entire conviction, founded on an experience of fifteen years, that no

such elucidation was possible.

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[3] It is remarkable that this hoisting of the bed-curtains is similar

to an incident recorded in the account of the visit of Lord Tyrone’s

ghost to Lady Beresford.