SPECTRAL LIGHTS, AND APPARITIONS ATTACHED TO CERTAIN FAMILIES.
IN commencing another chapter, I take the opportunity of repeating what
I have said before, viz., that in treating of these phenomena, I find it
most convenient to assume what I myself believe—that they are to be
explained by the existence and appearance of what are called GHOSTS; but
in so doing, I am not presuming to settle the question: if any one will
examine into the facts and furnish a better explanation of them, I shall
be ready to receive it.
In the meantime, assuming this hypothesis, there is one phenomenon
frequently attending their appearance, which has given rise to a great
deal of thoughtless ridicule, but which, in the present state of
science, merits very particular attention. Grose, whom Dr. Hibbert
quotes with particular satisfaction, says: “I can not learn that ghosts
carry tapers in their hands, as they are sometimes depicted; though the
room in which they appear, even when without fire or candle, is
frequently said to be as light as day.”
Most persons will have heard of this peculiarity attending the
appearance of ghosts. In the case of Professor Dorrien’s apparition,
mentioned in a former chapter, Professor Oeder saw it, when there was no
light in the room, by a flame which proceeded from itself. When he had
the room lighted, he saw it no longer, the light of the lamp rendering
invisible the more delicate phosphorescent light of the spectre: just as
the bright glare of the sun veils the feebler lustre of the stars, and
obscures to our senses many chemical lights which are very perceptible
in darkness. Hence the notion, so available to those who satisfy
themselves with scoffing without inquiring, that broad daylight banishes
apparitions, and that the belief in them is merely the offspring of
physical as well as moral darkness.
I meet with innumerable cases in which this phosphorescent light is one
of the accompaniments, the flame sometimes proceeding visibly from the
figure; while in others, the room appeared pervaded with light, without
its seeming to issue from any particular object.
I remember a case of the servants in a country-house, in Aberdeenshire,
hearing the door-bell ring after their mistress was gone to bed; on
coming up to open it, they saw through a window that looked into a hall
that it was quite light, and that their master, Mr. F——, who was at
the time absent from home, was there in his travelling dress. They ran
to tell their mistress what they had seen; but when they returned, all
was dark, and there was nothing unusual to be discovered. That night Mr.
F—— died at sea, on his voyage to London.
A gentleman, some time ago, awoke in the middle of a dark winter’s
night, and perceived that his room was as light as if it were day. He
awoke his wife and mentioned the circumstance, saying he could not help
apprehending that some misfortune had occurred to his fishing-boats,
which had put to sea. The boats were lost that night.
Only last year, there was a very curious circumstance happened in the
south of England, in which these lights were seen. I give the account
literally as I extracted it from the newspaper, and also the answer of
the editor to my further inquiries. I know nothing more of this story;
but it is singularly in keeping with others proceeding from different
quarters.
“A GHOST AT BRISTOL.—We have this week a ghost-story to relate. Yes, a
ghost-story; a real ghost-story, and a ghost-story without, as yet, any
clew to its elucidation. After the dissolution of the Calendars, their
ancient residence, adjoining and almost forming a part of All-Saint’s
church, Bristol, was converted into a vicarage-house, and it is still
called by that name, though the incumbents have for many years ceased to
reside there. The present occupants are Mr. and Mrs. Jones, the sexton
and sextoness of the church, and one or two lodgers; and it is to the
former and their servant-maid that the strange visiter has made his
appearance, causing such terror by his nightly calls, that all three
have determined on quitting the premises, if indeed they have not
already carried their resolution into effect. Mr. and Mrs. Jones’s
description of the disturbance as given to the landlord, on whom they
called in great consternation, is as distinct as any ghost-story could
be. The nocturnal visiter is heard walking about the house when the
inhabitants are in bed; and Mr. Jones, who is a man of by no means
nervous constitution, declares he has several times seen a light
flickering on one of the walls. Mrs. Jones is equally certain that she
has heard a man with creaking shoes walking in the bed-room above her
own, when no man was on the premises (or at least ought to be), and “was
nearly killed with the fright.” To the servant-maid, however, was
vouchsafed the unenvied honor of seeing this restless night-visiter; she
declares she has repeatedly had her bed-room door unbolted at night
between the hours of twelve and two o’clock—the period when such beings
usually make their promenades—by something in human semblance; she can
not particularize his dress, but describes it as something antique, and
of a fashion “lang syne gane,” and to some extent corresponding to that
of the ancient Calendars, the former inhabitants of the house. She
further says he is a “whiskered gentleman” (we give her own
words)—which whiskered gentleman has gone the length of shaking her
bed, and she believes would have shaken herself also, but that she
invariably puts her head under the clothes when she sees him approach.
Mrs. Jones declares she believes in the appearance of the whiskered
gentleman, and she had made up her mind, the night before she called on
her landlord, to leap out of the window (and it is not a trifle that
will make people leap out of the windows) as soon as he entered the
room. The effect of the ‘flickering light’ on Mr. Jones was quite
terrific, causing excessive trembling, and the complete doubling up of
his whole body into a round ball, like.”—_Bristol Times._
“BRISTOL TIMES OFFICE, _June 3, 1846_.
“MADAM: In reply to your inquiries respecting the ghost-story, I
have to assure you that the whole affair remains wrapped in the
same mystery as when chronicled in the pages of the _Bristol
Times_.
“I am, madam, yours obediently,
“THE EDITOR.”
I subsequently wrote to Mrs. Jones, who I found was not a very dexterous
scribe; but she confirmed the above account—adding, however, that the
Rev. Mr. ——, the clergyman of the parish, said I had better write to
him about it, and that he does not believe in such things. Of course he
does not, and it would have been useless to have asked his opinion.
There never was, perhaps, a more fearless human being than Madame
Gottfried, the empoisonneuse of Bremen; at least, she felt no
remorse—she feared nothing but discovery; and yet, when after years of
successful crime she was at length arrested, she related that soon after
the death of her first husband, Miltenburg, whom she had poisoned, as
she was standing, in the dusk of the evening, in her drawing-room, she
suddenly saw a bright light hovering at no great distance above the
floor, which advanced toward her bed-room door and then disappeared.
This phenomenon occurred on three successive evenings. On another
occasion, she saw a shadowy appearance hovering near her—“Ach! denke
ich, das ist Miltenburg, seine erscheinung!”—(Alas! thought I, that is
the ghost of Miltenburg!) Yet did not this withhold her murderous hand.
The lady who met with the curious adventure in Petersburgh, mentioned in
a former chapter, had no light in her room; yet she saw the watch
distinctly by the old woman’s light, though of what nature it was, she
does not know. Of the lights seen over graves, familiarly called
“corpse-candles,” I have spoken elsewhere—as also of the luminous form
perceived by Rilling in the garden at Colmar, as mentioned by Baron von
Reichenbach. Most people have heard the story of the Radiant Boy seen by
Lord Castlereagh—an apparition which the owner of the castle admitted
to have been visible to many others. Dr. Kerner mentions a similar fact,
wherein an advocate and his wife were awakened by a noise and a light,
and saw a beautiful child enveloped by the sort of glory that is seen
surrounding the heads of saints. It disappeared, and they never had a
repetition of the phenomenon, which they afterward heard was believed to
recur every seven years in that house, and to be connected with the
cruel murder of a child by its mother.
To these instances I will add an account of the ghost seen in C——
castle, copied from the handwriting of C—— M—— H—— in a book of
manuscript extracts, dated C—— castle, December 22, 1824, and
furnished to me by a friend of the family:—
“In order to introduce my readers to the haunted room, I will mention
that it forms part of the old house, with windows looking into the
court, which in early times was deemed a necessary security against an
enemy. It adjoins a tower built by the Romans for defence; for C—— was
properly more a border tower than a castle of any consideration. There
is a winding staircase in this tower, and the walls are from eight to
ten feet thick.
“When the times became more peaceable, our ancestors enlarged the
arrow-slit windows, and added to that part of the building which looks
toward the river Eden; the view of which, with its beautiful banks, we
now enjoy. But many additions and alterations have been made since that.
“To return to the room in question, I must observe that it is by no
means remote or solitary, being surrounded on all sides by chambers that
are constantly inhabited. It is accessible by a passage cut through a
wall eight feet in thickness, and its dimensions are twenty-one by
eighteen. One side of the wainscoting is covered with tapestry; the
remainder is decorated with old family-pictures, and some ancient pieces
of embroidery, probably the handiwork of nuns. Over a press, which has
doors of Venetian glass, is an ancient oaken figure, with a battle-axe
in his hand, which was one of those formerly placed on the walls of the
city of Carlisle, to represent guards. There used to be, also, an
old-fashioned bed and some dark furniture in this room; but, so many
were the complaints of those who slept there, that I was induced to
replace some of these articles of furniture by more modern ones, in the
hope of removing a certain air of gloom, which I thought might have
given rise to the unaccountable reports of apparitions and extraordinary
noises which were constantly reaching us. But I regret to say I did not
succeed in banishing the nocturnal visiter, which still continues to
disturb our friends.
“I shall pass over numerous instances, and select one as being
especially remarkable, from the circumstance of the apparition having
been seen by a clergyman well known and highly respected in this county,
who, not six weeks ago, repeated the circumstances to a company of
twenty persons, among whom were some who had previously been entire
disbelievers in such appearances.
“The best way of giving you these particulars, will be by subjoining an
extract from my journal, entered at the time the event occurred.
“SEPT. 8, 1803.—Among other guests invited to C—— castle, came the
Rev. Henry A——, of Redburgh, and rector of Greystoke, with Mrs. A——,
his wife, who was a Miss S——, of Ulverstone. According to previous
arrangements, they were to have remained with us for some days; but
their visit was cut short in a very unexpected manner. On the morning
after their arrival, we were all assembled at breakfast, when a chaise
and four dashed up to the door in such haste that it knocked down part
of the fence of my flower-garden. Our curiosity was, of course, awakened
to know who could be arriving at so early an hour; when, happening to
turn my eyes toward Mr. A——, I observed that he appeared extremely
agitated. ‘It is our carriage!’ said he; ‘I am very sorry, but we must
absolutely leave you this morning.’
“We naturally felt and expressed considerable surprise, as well as
regret at this unexpected departure; representing that we had invited
Colonel and Mrs. S——, some friends whom Mr. A—— particularly desired
to meet, to dine with us on that day. Our expostulations, however, were
vain; the breakfast was no sooner over than they departed, leaving us in
consternation to conjecture what could possibly have occasioned so
sudden an alteration in their arrangements. I really felt quite uneasy
lest anything should have given them offence; and we reviewed all the
occurrences of the preceding evening in order to discover, if offence
there was, whence it had arisen. But our pains were vain; and after
talking a great deal about it for some days, other circumstances
banished it from our minds.
“It was not till we some time afterward visited the part of the country
in which Mr. A—— resides, that we learned the real cause of his sudden
departure from C——. The relation of the fact, as it here follows, is
in his own words:—
“Soon after we went to bed, we fell asleep: it might have been between
one and two in the morning when I awoke. I observed that the fire was
totally extinguished; but although that was the case, and we had no
light, I saw a glimmer in the centre of the room, which suddenly
increased to a bright flame. I looked out, apprehending that something
had caught fire, when, to my amazement, I beheld a beautiful boy,
clothed in white, with bright locks, resembling gold, standing by my
bedside, in which position he remained some minutes, fixing his eyes
upon me with a mild and benevolent expression. He then glided gently
away toward the side of the chimney, where it is obvious there is no
possible egress, and entirely disappeared. I found myself again in total
darkness, and all remained quiet until the usual hour of rising. I
declare this to be a true account of what I saw at C—— castle, upon my
word as a clergyman.”
I am acquainted with some of the family, and with several of the friends
of Mr. A——, who is still alive, though now an old man, and I can most
positively assert that his own conviction, with regard to the nature of
this appearance, has remained ever unshaken. The circumstance made a
lasting impression upon his mind, and he never willingly speaks of it;
but when he does, it is always with the greatest seriousness, and he
never shrinks from avowing his belief, that what he saw admits of no
other interpretation than the one he then put upon it.
Now, let us see whether in this department of the phenomenon of
ghost-seeing, namely, the lights that frequently accompany the
apparitions, there is anything so worthy of ridicule as Grose and other
such commentators seem to think.
Of God, the uncreated, we know nothing; but the created spirit, man, we
can not conceive of independent of some organism or organ, however
different that organ may be to those which form our means of
apprehension and communication at present. This organ, we may suppose to
be that pervading ether which is now the germ of what St. Paul calls the
_spiritual body_, the _astral spirit_ of the mystics, the _nerve-spirit_
of the clear-seers; the fundamental body, of which the external fleshly
body is but the copy and husk—an organ comprehending all those distinct
ones which we now possess in the one universal, or, as some of the
German physiologists call it, the _central_ sense, of which we
occasionally obtain some glimpses in somnambulism, and in other peculiar
states of nervous derangement; especially where the ordinary senses of
sight, hearing, feeling, &c., are in abeyance; an effect which Dr.
Ennemoser considers to be produced by a change of polarity, the external
periphery of the nerves taking on a negative state; and which Dr.
Passavent describes as the retreating of the ether from the external to
the internal, so that the nerves no longer receive impressions, or
convey information to the brain; a condition which may be produced by
various causes, as excess of excitement, great elevation of the spirit,
as we see in the ecstatics and martyrs, over-irritation producing
consequent exhaustion; and also artificially, by certain manipulations,
narcotics, and other influences. All somnambules of the highest
order—and when I make use of this expression, I repeat that I do not
allude to the subjects of mesmeric experiments, but to those
extraordinary cases of disease, the particulars of which have been
recorded by various continental physicians of eminence—all persons in
that condition describe themselves as hearing and seeing, not by their
ordinary organs, but by some means the idea of which they can not convey
further than that they are pervaded by light, and that this is not the
_ordinary_ physical light is evident, inasmuch as they generally see
best in the dark, a remarkable instance of which I myself witnessed.
I never had the slightest idea of this internal light, till, in the way
of experiment, I inhaled the sulphuric ether; but I am now very well
able to conceive it: for, after first feeling an agreeable warmth
pervading my limbs, my next sensation was to find myself, I can not say
in this heavenly light, for the light was in _me_—I was pervaded by it:
it was not perceived by my eyes, which were closed, but perceived
internally, I can not tell how. Of what nature this heavenly light
was—and I can not forbear calling it _heavenly_, for it was like
nothing on earth—I know not, nor how far it may be related to those
luminous emanations occasionally seen around ecstatics, saints, martyrs,
and dying persons; or to the flames seen by somnambules issuing from
various objects, or to those observed by Von Reichenbach’s patients
proceeding from the ends of the fingers, &c. But at all events, since
the process which maintains life is of the nature of combustion, we have
no reason to be amazed at the presence of luminous emanations; and as we
are the subjects of various electrical phenomena, nobody is surprised
when, on combing their hair or pulling off their silk-stockings, they
hear a crackling noise, or even see sparks.
Light, in short, is a phenomenon which seems connected with all forms of
life; and I need not here refer to that emitted by glow-worms,
fire-flies, and those marine animals which illuminate the sea. The eyes
also of many animals shine with a light which is not merely a reflected
one—as has been ascertained by Rengger, a German naturalist, who found
himself able to distinguish objects in the most profound darkness, by
the flaming eyes of a South American monkey.
“The seeing of a clear-seer,” says Dr. Passavent, “may be called a
_solar_ seeing, for he lights and inter-penetrates his object with his
_own_ organic light, viz., his nervous ether, which becomes the organ of
the spirit;” and under certain circumstances this organic light becomes
visible, as in those above alluded to. Persons recovering from deep
swoons and trances, frequently describe themselves as having been in
this region of light—this light of the spirit, if I may so call
it—this palace of light, in which it dwells, which will hereafter be
its proper light; for the physical or solar light, which serves us while
in the flesh, will be no longer needed, when out of it, nor probably be
perceived by the spirit, which will then, I repeat, be a light to
itself: and as this organic light—this germ of our future spiritual
body—occasionally becomes partially visible now, there can not, I
think, be any great difficulty in conceiving that it may, under given
circumstances, be so hereafter.
The use of the word _light_, in the Scriptures, must not be received in
a purely symbolical sense. We shall dwell in light, or we shall dwell in
darkness, in proportion as we have shaken off the bonds that chain us to
the earth; according, in short, to our moral state, we shall be pure and
bright, or impure and dark.
Monsieur Arago mentions, in his treatise on lightning and the electrical
fluid, that all men are not equally susceptible of it, and that there
are different degrees of receptivity, verging from total insensibility
to the extreme opposite; and he also remarks that animals are more
susceptible to it than men. He says the fluid will pass through a chain
of persons, of whom perhaps one (though forming only the second link)
will be wholly insensible of the shock. Such persons would be rarely
struck by lightning, while another would be in as great danger from a
flash as if he were made of metal. Thus it is not only the situation of
a man, during a storm, but also his physical constitution, that
regulates the amount of his peril. The horse and the dog are
particularly susceptible.
Now, this varying susceptibility is analogous to, if not the very same,
that causes the varying susceptibility to such phenomena as I am
treating of; and, accordingly, we know that in all times, horses and
dogs have been reputed to have the faculty of seeing spirits: and when
persons who have the second-sight see a vision, these animals, if in
contact with them, perceive it also, and frequently evince symptoms of
great terror. We also here find the explanation of another mystery,
namely, what the Germans call _ansteckung_, and the English (skeptics
when alluding to these phenomena) _contagion_—meaning simply
_contagious fear_; but, as when several persons form a chain, the shock
from an electrical machine will pass through the whole of them—so, if
one person is in such a state as to become sensible of an apparition or
some similar phenomenon, he may be able to communicate that power to
another; and thus has arisen the conviction among the highlanders, that
a seer, by touching a person near him, enables him frequently to
participate in his vision.
A little girl, in humble life, called Mary Delves, of a highly nervous
temperament, has been frequently punished for saying that the cat was on
fire, and that she saw flames issuing from various persons and objects.
With regard to the perplexing subject of corpse-lights, there would be
little difficulty attending it if they always remained stationary over
the graves; but it seems very well established that that is not the
case. There are numerous stories, proceeding from very respectable
quarters, proving the contrary; and I have heard two from a dignitary of
the church, born in Wales, which I will relate:—
A female relation of his had occasion to go to Aberystwith, which was
about twenty miles from her home, on horseback; and she started at a
very early hour for that purpose, with her father’s servant. When they
had nearly reached the half-way, fearing the man might be wanted at
home, she bade him return, as she was approaching the spot where the
servant of the lady she was going to visit was to meet her, in order to
escort her the other half.
The man had not long left her, when she saw a light coming toward her,
the nature of which she suspected. It moved, according to her
description, steadily on, about three feet from the ground. Somewhat
awestruck, she turned her horse out of the bridle-road, along which it
was coming, intending to wait till it had passed; but, to her dismay,
just as it came opposite to her, it stopped, and there remained
perfectly fixed for nearly half an hour, at the end of which period it
moved on as before.
The servant presently came up, and she proceeded to the house of her
friend, where she related what she had seen. A few days afterward, the
very servant who came to meet her was taken ill and died: his body was
carried along that road; and, at the very spot where the light had
paused, an accident occurred, which caused a delay of half an hour.
The other story was as follows: A servant in the family of Lady Davis,
my informant’s aunt, had occasion to start early for market. Being in
the kitchen, about three o’clock in the morning, taking his breakfast
alone, when everybody else was in bed, he was surprised at hearing a
sound of heavy feet on the stairs above; and, opening the door to see
who it could be, he was struck with alarm at perceiving a great light,
much brighter than could have been shed by a candle, at the same time
that he heard a violent thump, as if some very heavy body had hit the
clock, which stood on the landing. Aware of the nature of the light, the
man did not await its further descent, but rushed out of the
house—whence he presently saw it issue from the front door, and proceed
on its way to the churchyard.
As his mistress, Lady Davis, was at that period in her bed, ill, he made
no doubt that her death impended; and when he returned from the market
at night, his first question was, whether she was yet alive: and though
he was informed she was better, he declared his conviction that she
would die, alleging as his reason what he had seen in the morning—a
narration which led everybody else to the same conclusion.
The lady, however, recovered; but, within a fortnight, another member of
the family died: and as his coffin was brought down the stairs, the
bearers ran it violently against the clock—upon which the man instantly
exclaimed, “That is the very noise I heard!”
I could relate numerous stories wherein the appearance of a ghost was
accompanied by a light; but as there is nothing that distinguishes them
from those abovementioned, I will not dilate further on this branch of
the subject, on which, perhaps, I have said enough to suggest to the
minds of my readers that, although we know little _how_ such things are,
we do know enough of analogous phenomena to enable us to believe, at
least, their possibility.
I confess I find much less difficulty in conceiving the existence of
such facts as those above described, than those of another class, of
which we meet with occasional instances.
For example, a gentleman of fortune and station, in Ireland, was one day
walking along the road, when he met a very old man, apparently a
peasant, though well-dressed, and looking as if he had on his Sunday
habiliments. His great age attracted the gentleman’s attention the more,
that he could not help wondering at the alertness of his movements, and
the ease with which he was ascending the hill. He consequently accosted
him, inquiring his name and residence; and was answered that his name
was Kirkpatrick, and that he lived at a cottage, which he pointed out.
Whereupon the gentleman expressed his surprise that he should be unknown
to him, since he fancied he had been acquainted with every man on his
estate. “It is odd you have never seen me before,” returned the old man,
“for I walk here every day.”
“How old are you?” asked the gentleman.
“I am one hundred and five,” answered the other; “and have been here all
my life.”
After a few more words, they parted; and the gentleman, proceeding
toward some laborers in a neighboring field, inquired if they knew an
old man of the name of Kirkpatrick. They did not; but on addressing the
question to some older tenants, they said, “Oh, yes;” they had known
him, and had been at his funeral; he had lived at the cottage on the
hill, but had been dead twenty years.
“How old was he when he died?” inquired the gentleman, much amazed. “He
was eighty-five,” said they: so that the old man gave the age that he
would have reached had he survived to the period of this rencontre.
This curious incident is furnished by the gentleman himself and all he
can say is, that it certainly occurred, and that he is quite unable to
explain it. He was in perfect health at the time, and had never heard of
this man in his life, who had been dead several years before the estate
came into his possession.
The following is another curious story. The original will be found in
the register of the church named, from which it has been copied for my
use:—
EXTRACT FROM THE REGISTER IN BRISLEY CHURCH, NORFOLK.
“DECEMBER 12, 1706.—I, Robert Withers, M. A., vicar of Gately,
do insert here a story which I had from undoubted hands; for I
have all the moral certainty of the truth of it possible:—
“Mr. Grose went to see Mr. Shaw on the 2d of August last. As
they sat talking in the evening, says Mr. Shaw: ‘On the 21st of
the last month, as I was smoking a pipe, and reading in my
study, between eleven and twelve at night, in comes Mr. Naylor
(formerly fellow of St. John’s college, but had been dead full
four years). When I saw him, I was not much affrighted, and I
asked him to sit down, which accordingly he did for about two
hours, and we talked together. I asked him how it fared with
him. He said, “Very well.”—“Were any of our old acquaintances
with him?”—“No!” (at which I was much alarmed), “but Mr.
Orchard will be with me soon, and yourself not long after.” As
he was going away, I asked him if he would not stay a little
longer, but he refused. I asked him if he would call again.
“No;” he had but three days’ leave of absence, and he had other
business.’
“N. B.—Mr. Orchard died soon after. Mr. Shaw is now dead: he
was formerly fellow of St. John’s college—an ingenious, good
man. I knew him there; but at his death he had a college-living
in Oxfordshire, and here he saw the apparition.”
An extraordinary circumstance occurred some years ago, in which a very
pious and very eminent Scotch minister, Ebenezer Brown of Inverkeithing,
was concerned. A person of ill character in the neighborhood having
died, the family very shortly afterward came to him to complain of some
exceedingly unpleasant circumstances connected with the room in which
the dissolution had taken place, which rendered it uninhabitable, and
requesting his assistance. All that is known by his family of what
followed, is that he went and entered the room alone; came out again, in
a state of considerable excitement and in a great perspiration; took off
his coat and re-entered the room; a great noise and I believe voices
were then heard by the family, who remained the whole time at the door;
when he came out finally, it was evident that something very
extraordinary had taken place; what it was, he said, he could never
disclose; but that perhaps after his death some paper might be found
upon the subject. None, however, as far as I can learn, has been
discovered.
A circumstance of a very singular nature is asserted to have occurred,
not very many years back, in regard to a professor in the college of
A——, who had seduced a girl and married another woman. The girl became
troublesome to him; and being found murdered, after having been last
seen in his company, he was suspected of being some way concerned in the
crime. But the strange thing is, that, from that period, he retired
every evening at a particular hour to a certain room, where he stayed a
great part of the night, and where it was declared that _her_ voice was
distinctly heard in conversation with him: a strange, wild story, which
I give as I have it, without pretending to any explanation of the belief
that seems to have prevailed, that he was obliged to keep this fearful
tryst.
Visitations of this description—which seem to indicate that the
deceased person is still, in some way incomprehensible to us, an
inhabitant of the earth—are more perplexing than any of the stories I
meet with. In the time of Frederick II. of Prussia, the cook of a
catholic priest residing at a village named Quarrey, died, and he took
another in her place; but the poor woman had no peace or rest from the
interference of her predecessor, insomuch that she resigned her
situation, and the minister might almost have done without any servant
at all. The fires were lighted, and the rooms swept and arranged, and
all the needful services performed, by unseen hands. Numbers of people
went to witness the phenomena, till at length the story reached the ears
of the king, who sent a captain and a lieutenant of his guard to
investigate the affair. As they approached the house, they found
themselves preceded by a march, though they could see no musicians; and
when they entered the parlor and witnessed what was going on, the
captain exclaimed: “If that doesn’t beat the devil!” upon which he
received a smart slap on the face, from the invisible hand that was
arranging the furniture.
In consequence of this affair, the house was pulled down, by the king’s
orders, and another residence built for the minister at some distance
from the spot.
Now, to impose on Frederick II. would have been no slight matter, as
regarded the probable consequences; and the officers of his guard would
certainly not have been disposed to make the experiment; and it is not
likely that the king would have ordered the house to be pulled down
without being thoroughly satisfied of the truth of the story.
One of the most remarkable stories of this class I know—excepting
indeed the famous one of the Grecian bride—is that which is said to
have happened at Crossen, in Silesia, in the year 1659, in the reign of
the Princess Elizabeth Charlotte. In the spring of that year, an
apothecary’s man, called Christopher Monig—a native of Serbest, in
Anhalt—died, and was buried with the usual ceremonies of the Lutheran
church. But, to the amazement of everybody, a few days afterward, he, at
least what seemed to be himself, appeared in the shop, where he would
sit himself down, and sometimes walk, and take from the shelves boxes,
pots, and glasses, and set them again in other places; sometimes try and
examine the goodness of the medicines, weigh them with the scales, pound
the drugs with a mighty noise—nay, serve the people that came with
bills to the shop, take their money and lay it up in the counter: in a
word, do all things that a journeyman in such cases used to do. He
looked very ghostly upon his former companions, who were afraid to say
anything to him, and his master being sick at that time, he was very
troublesome to him. At last he took a cloak that hung in the shop, put
it on and walked abroad, but minding nobody in the streets; he entered
into some of the citizen’s houses, especially such as he had formerly
known, yet spoke to no one but to a maid-servant, whom he met with hard
by the church-yard, whom he desired to go home and dig in a lower
chamber of her master’s house, where she would find an inestimable
treasure. But the girl, amazed at the sight of him, swooned away;
whereupon he lifted her up, but left a mark upon her, in so doing, that
was long visible. She fell sick in consequence of the fright, and having
told what Monig had said to her, they dug up the place indicated, but
found nothing but a decayed pot with a hemarites or bloodstone in it.
The affair making a great noise, the reigning princess caused the man’s
body to be taken up, which being done, it was found in a state of
putrefaction, and was reinterred. The apothecary was then recommended to
remove everything belonging to Monig—his linen, clothes, books,
&c.—after which the apparition left the house and was seen no more.
The fact of the man’s reappearance in this manner was considered to be
so perfectly established at the time, that there was actually a public
disputation on the subject in the academy of Leipsic. With regard to the
importance the apparition attached to the bloodstone, we do not know but
that there may be truth in the persuasion that this gem is possessed of
some occult properties of much more value than its beauty.
The story of the Grecian bride is still more wonderful, and yet it comes
to us so surprisingly well authenticated, inasmuch as the details were
forwarded by the prefect of the city in which the thing occurred, to the
proconsul of his province, and by the latter were laid before the
emperor Hadrian—and as it was not the custom to mystify Roman
emperors—we are constrained to believe that what the prefect and
proconsul communicated to him, they had good reason for believing
themselves.
It appears that a gentleman, called Demostrates, and Charito, his wife,
had a daughter called Philinnion, who died; and that about six months
afterward, a youth named Machates, who had come to visit them, was
surprised on retiring to the apartments destined to strangers, by
receiving the visits of a young maiden who eats and drinks and exchanges
gifts with him. Some accident having taken the nurse that way, she,
amazed by the sight, summons her master and mistress to behold their
daughter, who is there sitting with the guest.
Of course, they do not believe her; but at length, wearied by her
importunities, the mother follows her to the guest’s chamber; but the
young people are now asleep, and the door closed; but looking through
the keyhole, she perceives what she believes to be her daughter. Still
unable to credit her senses, she resolves to wait till morning before
disturbing them; but when she comes again the young lady had departed;
while Machates, on being interrogated, confesses that Philinnion had
been with him, but that she had admitted to him that it was unknown to
her parents. Upon this, the amazement and agitation of the mother were
naturally very great; especially when Machates showed her a ring which
the girl had given him, and a bodice which she had left behind her; and
his amazement was no less, when he heard the story they had to tell. He,
however, promised that if she returned the next night, he would let them
see her; for he found it impossible to believe that his bride was their
dead daughter. He suspected, on the contrary, that some thieves had
stripped her body of the clothes and ornaments in which she had been
buried, and that the girl who came to his room had bought them. When,
therefore, she arrived, his servant having had orders to summon the
father and mother, they came; and perceiving that it was really their
daughter, they fell to embracing her, with tears. But she reproached
them for the intrusion, declaring that she had been permitted to spend
three days with this stranger, in the house of her birth; but that now
she must go to the appointed place; and immediately fell down dead, and
the dead body lay there visible to all.
The news of this strange event soon spread abroad, the house was
surrounded by crowds of people, and the prefect was obliged to take
measures to avoid a tumult. On the following morning, at an early hour,
the inhabitants assembled in the theatre, and thence they proceeded to
the vault, in order to ascertain if the body of Philinnion was where it
had been deposited six months before. It was not; but on the bier there
lay the ring and cap which Machates had presented to her the first night
she visited him; showing that she had returned there in the interim.
They then proceeded to the house of Democrates, where they saw the body,
which it was decreed must now be buried without the bounds of the city.
Numerous religious ceremonies and sacrifices followed, and the
unfortunate Machates, seized with horror, put an end to his own life.
The following very singular circumstance occurred in this country toward
the latter end of the last century, and excited, at the time,
considerable attention; the more so, as it was asserted by everybody
acquainted with the people and the locality, that the removal of the
body was impossible by any recognised means; besides, that no one would
have had the hardihood to attempt such a feat:—
“Mr. William Craighead, author of a popular system of arithmetic, was
parish-schoolmaster of Monifieth, situate upon the estuary of the Tay,
about six miles east from Dundee. It would appear that Mr. Craighead was
then a young man, fond of a frolic, without being very scrupulous about
the means, or calculating the consequences. There being a lykewake in
the neighborhood, according to the custom of the times, attended by a
number of his acquaintance, Craighead procured a confederate, with whom
he concerted a plan to draw the watchers from the house, or at least
from the room where the corpse lay. Having succeeded in this, he
dexterously removed the dead body to an outer house, while his companion
occupied the place of the corpse in the bed where it had lain. It was
agreed upon between the confederates, that when the company were
reassembled Craighead was to join them, and, at a concerted signal the
impostor was to rise, shrouded like the dead man, while the two were to
enjoy the terror and alarm of their companions. Mr. Craighead came in,
and, after being some time seated, the signal was made, but met no
attention; he was rather surprised; it was repeated, and still
neglected. Mr. Craighead, in his turn, now became alarmed; for he
conceived it impossible that his companion could have fallen asleep in
that situation; his uneasiness became insupportable; he went to the bed,
and found his friend lifeless! Mr. Craighead’s feelings, as may well be
imagined, now entirely overpowered him, and the dreadful fact was
disclosed. Their agitation was extreme, and it was far from being
alleviated when every attempt to restore animation to the thoughtless
young man proved abortive. As soon as their confusion would permit, an
inquiry was made after the original corpse, and Mr. Craighead and
another went to fetch it in, but it was not to be found. The alarm and
consternation of the company were now redoubled; for some time a few
suspected that some hardy fellow among them had been attempting a
Rowland for an Oliver, but when every knowledge of it was most solemnly
denied by all present, their situation can be more easily imagined than
described; that of Mr. Craighead was little short of distraction.
Daylight came without relieving their agitation; no trace of the corpse
could be discovered, and Mr. Craighead was accused as the _primum
mobile_ of all that had happened: he was incapable of sleeping, and
wandered several days and nights in search of the body, which was at
last discovered in the parish of Tealing, deposited in a field, about
six miles distant from the place whence it was removed.
“It is related that this extraordinary affair had a strong and lasting
effect upon Mr. Craighead’s mind and conduct; that he immediately became
serious and thoughtful, and ever after conducted himself with great
prudence and sobriety.”
Among what are called _superstitions_, there are a great many curious
ones attached to certain families; and from some members of these
families I have been assured that experience has rendered it impossible
for them to forbear attaching importance to these persuasions.
A very remarkable circumstance occurred lately in this part of the
world, the facts of which I had an opportunity of being well acquainted
with.
One evening, somewhere about Christmas, of the year 1844, a letter was
sent for my perusal, which had been just received from a member of a
distinguished family, in Perthshire. The friend who sent it me, an
eminent literary man, said, “Read the enclosed; and we shall now have an
opportunity of observing if any event follows the prognostics.” The
information contained in the letter was to the following effect:—
Miss D——, a relative of the present Lady C——, who had been staying
some time with the earl and countess, at their seat near Dundee, was
invited to spend a few days at C—— castle, with the earl and countess
of A——. She went: and while she was dressing for dinner, the first
evening of her arrival, she heard a strain of music under her window,
which finally resolved itself into a well-defined sound of a drum. When
her maid came up stairs, she made some inquiries about the drummer that
was playing near the house; but the maid knew nothing on the subject.
For the moment, the circumstance passed from Miss D——’s mind; but
recurring to her again during the dinner, she said, addressing Lord
A——, “My lord, who is your drummer?”—upon which his lordship turned
pale, Lady A—— looked distressed, and several of the company (who all
heard the question) embarrassed; while the lady, perceiving that she had
made some unpleasant allusion, although she knew not to what their
feelings referred, forbore further inquiry till she reached the
drawing-room, when, having mentioned the circumstance again to a member
of the family, she was answered, “What! have you never heard of the
drummer-boy?”—“No,” replied Miss D——; “who in the world is
he?”—“Why,” replied the other, “he is a person who goes about the house
playing his drum whenever there is a death impending in the family. The
last time he was heard was shortly before the death of the last countess
(the earl’s former wife), and that is why Lord A—— became so pale when
you mentioned it. ‘The drummer’ is a very unpleasant subject in this
family, I assure you!”
Miss D—— was naturally much concerned, and, indeed, not a little
frightened at this explanation, and her alarm being augmented by hearing
the sounds on the following day, she took her departure from C——
castle and returned to Lord C——’s, stopping on her way to call on some
friends, where she related this strange circumstance to the family,
through whom the information reached me.
This affair was very generally known in the north, and we awaited the
event with interest. The melancholy death of the countess about five or
six months afterward, at Brighton, sadly verified the prognostic. I have
heard that a paper was found in her desk after her death, declaring her
conviction that the drum was for her; and it has been suggested that
probably the thing preyed upon her mind and caused the catastrophe: but
in the first place, from the mode of her death, that does not appear to
be the case; in the second, even if it were, the fact of the
verification of the prognostic remains unaffected; besides which, those
who insist upon taking refuge in this hypothesis must admit that, before
people living in the world like Lord and Lady A——, could attach so
much importance to the prognostic as to entail such fatal effects, they
must have had very good reason for believing in it.
The legend connected with “the drummer” is, that either himself, or some
officer whose emissary he was, had become an object of jealousy to a
former Lord A——, and that he was put to death by being thrust into his
own drum and flung from the window of the tower in which Miss D——’s
room was situated. It is said that he threatened to haunt them if they
took his life; and he seems to have been as good as his word, having
been heard several times in the memory of persons yet living.
There is a curious legend attached to the family of G——, of R——, to
the effect that, when a lady is confined in that house, a little old
woman enters the room when the nurse is absent, and strokes down the
bed-clothes; after which the patient, according to the technical phrase,
“never does any good,” and dies. Whether the old lady has paid her
visits or not I do not know, but it is remarkable that the results
attending several late confinements there have been fatal.
There was a legend, in a certain family, that a single swan was seen on
a particular lake before a death. A member of this family told me that
on one occasion, the father, being a widower, was about to enter into a
second marriage. On the wedding-day, his son appeared so exceedingly
distressed, that the bridegroom was offended, and, expostulating with
him, was told by the young man that his low spirits were caused by his
having seen the swan. He (the son) died that night quite unexpectedly.
Besides Lord Littleton’s dove, there are a great many very curious
stories recorded in which birds have been seen in a room when a death
was impending; but the most extraordinary prognostic I know is that of
“the black dog,” which seems to be attached to some families:—
A young lady of the name of P——, not long since was sitting at work,
well and cheerful, when she saw, to her great surprise, a large black
dog close to her. As both door and window were closed, she could not
understand how he had got in; but when she started up to put him out,
she could no longer see him.
Quite puzzled, and thinking it must be some strange illusion, she sat
down again and went on with her work, when, presently, he was there
again. Much alarmed, she now ran out and told her mother, who said she
must have fancied it, or be ill. She declared neither was the case; and,
to oblige her, the mother agreed to wait outside the door, and if she
saw it again, she was to call her. Miss P—— re-entered the room, and
presently there was the dog again; but when she called her mother, he
disappeared. Immediately afterward, the mother was taken ill and died.
Before she expired, she said to her daughter, “Remember the black dog!”
I confess I should have been much disposed to think this a spectral
illusion, were it not for the number of corroborative instances; and I
have only this morning read in the review of a work called “The Unseen
World,” just published, that there is a family in Cornwall who are also
warned of an approaching death by the apparition of a black dog: and a
very curious example is quoted, in which a lady newly married into the
family, and knowing nothing of the tradition, came down from the nursery
to request her husband would go up and drive away a black dog that was
lying on the child’s bed. He went up, and found the child dead!
I wonder if this phenomenon is the origin of the French phrase “_bête
noir_,” to express an annoyance, or an augury of evil?
Most persons will remember the story of Lady Fanshawe, as related by
herself—namely, that while paying a visit to Lady Honor O’Brien, she
was awakened the first night she slept there by a voice, and, on drawing
back the curtain, she saw a female figure standing in the recess of the
window, attired in white, with red hair and a pale and ghastly aspect.
“She looked out of the window,” says Lady Fanshawe, “and cried in a loud
voice, such as I never before heard, ‘A horse!—a horse!—a horse!’ and
then with a sigh, which rather resembled the wind than the voice of a
human being, she disappeared. Her body appeared to me rather like a
thick cloud than a real solid substance. I was so frightened,” she
continues, “that my hair stood on end, and my night-cap fell off. I
pushed and shook my husband, who had slept all the time, and who was
very much surprised to find me in such a fright, and still more so when
I told him the cause of it, and showed him the open window. Neither of
us slept any more that night, but he talked to me about it, and told me
how much more frequent such apparitions were in that country than in
England.”
This was, however, what is called a _banshee_: for in the morning Lady
Honor came to them, to say that one of the family had died in the night,
expressing a hope that they had not been disturbed: “for,” said she,
“whenever any of the O’Briens is on his death-bed, it is usual for a
woman to appear at one of the windows every night till he expires; but
when I put you into this room, I did not think of it.” This apparition
was connected with some sad tale of seduction and murder.
I could relate many more instances of this kind, but I wish as much as
possible to avoid repeating cases already in print; so I will conclude
this chapter with the following account of “Pearlin Jean,” whose
persevering annoyances, at Allanbank, were so thoroughly believed and
established, as to have formed at various times a considerable
impediment to letting the place. I am indebted to Mr. Charles
Kirkpatrick Sharpe for the account of Jean, and the anecdote that
follows.
A housekeeper, called Bettie Norrie, that lived many years at Allanbank,
declared she and various other people had frequently seen Jean, adding
that they were so used to her, as to be no longer alarmed at her noises.
“In my youth,” says Mr. Sharpe, “Pearlin Jean was the most remarkable
ghost in Scotland, and my terror when a child. Our old nurse, Jenny
Blackadder, had been a servant at Allanbank, and often heard her
rustling in silks up and down stairs, and along the passage. She never
saw her—but her husband did.
“She was a French woman, whom the first baronet of Allanbank (then Mr.
Stuart) met with at Paris, during his tour to finish his education as a
gentleman. Some people said she was a nun, in which case she must have
been a sister of charity, as she appears not to have been confined to a
cloister. After some time, young Stuart became either faithless to the
lady, or was suddenly recalled to Scotland by his parents, and had got
into his carriage, at the door of the hotel, when his Dido unexpectedly
made her appearance, and stepping on the fore-wheel of the coach to
address her lover, he ordered the postillion to drive on; the
consequence of which was, that the lady fell, and one of the wheels
going over her forehead, killed her!
“In a dusky autumnal evening, when Mr. Stuart drove under the arched
gateway of Allanbank, he perceived Pearlin Jean sitting on the top, her
head and shoulders covered with blood.
“After this, for many years, the house was haunted: doors shut and
opened with great noise at midnight; and the rustling of silks, and
pattering of high-heeled shoes, were heard in bed-rooms and passages.
Nurse Jenny said there were seven ministers called together at one time,
to _lay_ the spirit; ‘but they did no mickle good, my dear.’
“The picture of the ghost was hung between those of her lover and his
lady, and kept her comparatively quiet; but when taken away, she became
worse-natured than ever. This portrait was in the present Sir J——
G——’s possession. I am unwilling to record its fate.
“The ghost was designated ‘Pearlin,’ from always wearing a great
quantity of that sort of lace.[4]
“Nurse Jenny told me that when Thomas Blackadder was her lover (I
remember Thomas very well), they made an assignation to meet one
moonlight night in the orchard at Allanbank. True Thomas, of course, was
the first comer; and, seeing a female figure, in a light-colored dress,
at some distance, he ran forward with open arms to embrace his Jenny.
Lo, and behold! as he neared the spot where the figure stood, it
vanished; and presently he saw it again, at the very end of the orchard,
a considerable way off. Thomas went home in a fright; but Jenny, who
came last, and saw nothing, forgave him, and they were married.
“Many years after this, about the year 1790, two ladies paid a visit at
Allanbank—I think the house was then let—and passed a night there.
They had never heard a word about the ghost; but they were disturbed the
whole night with something walking backward and forward in their
bed-chamber. This I had from the best authority.
“Sir Robert Stuart was created a baronet in the year 1687.
“Lady Stapleton, grandmother of the late Lord le Despencer, told me that
the night Lady Susan Fane (Lord Westmoreland’s daughter) died in London,
she appeared to her father, then at Merriworth, in Kent. He was in bed,
but had not fallen asleep. There was a light in the room; she came in,
and sat down on a chair at the foot of the bed. He said to her, ‘Good
God, Susan! how came you here? What has brought you from town?’ She made
no answer; but rose directly, and went to the door, and looked back
toward him very earnestly: then she retired, shutting the door behind
her. The next morning he had notice of her death. This, Lord
Westmoreland himself told to Lady Stapleton, who was by birth a Fane,
and his near relation.”
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[4] “A species of lace made of thread.”—JAMIESON.