stairs to interrogate the father of the girl, who was waiting the result
of the experiment. He positively denied that there was any deception, and
even went so far as to say that he himself, upon one occasion, had seen
and conversed with the awful ghost. This having been communicated to the
company, it was unanimously resolved to give the ghost another trial; and
the clergyman called out in a loud voice to the supposed spirit, that the
gentleman to whom it had promised to appear in the vault was about to
repair to that place, where he claimed the fulfilment of its promise. At
one hour after midnight they all proceeded to the church, and the
gentleman in question, with another, entered the vault alone, and took up
their position alongside of the coffin of poor Fanny. The ghost was then
summoned to appear, but it appeared not; it was summoned to knock, but it
knocked not; it was summoned to scratch, but it scratched not; and the two
retired from the vault, with a firm belief that the whole business was a
deception practised by Parsons and his daughter. There were others,
however, who did not wish to jump so hastily to a conclusion, and who
suggested that they were perhaps trifling with this awful and supernatural
being, which, being offended with them for their presumption, would not
condescend to answer them. Again, after serious consultation, it was
agreed on all hands that if the ghost answered any body at all, it would
answer Mr. Kent, the supposed murderer; and he was accordingly requested
to go down into the vault. He went with several others, and summoned the
ghost to answer whether he had indeed poisoned her. There being no answer,
the question was put by Mr. Aldritch, who conjured it, if it were indeed a
spirit, to end their doubts, make a sign of its presence, and point out
the guilty person. There being still no answer for the space of half an
hour, during which time all these boobies waited with the most
praiseworthy perseverance, they returned to the house of Mr. Aldritch, and
ordered the girl to get up and dress herself. She was strictly examined,
but persisted in her statement that she used no deception, and that the
ghost had really appeared to her.
So many persons had, by their openly expressed belief of the reality of
the visitation, identified themselves with it, that Parsons and his family
were far from being the only persons interested in the continuance of the
delusion. The result of the experiment convinced most people; but these
were not to be convinced by any evidence, however positive, and they
therefore spread abroad the rumour, that the ghost had not appeared in the
vault because Mr. Kent had taken care beforehand to have the coffin
removed. That gentleman, whose position was a very painful one,
immediately procured competent witnesses, in whose presence the vault was
entered, and the coffin of poor Fanny opened. Their depositions were then
published; and Mr. Kent indicted Parsons and his wife, his daughter, Mary
Frazer the servant, the Rev. Mr. Moor, and a tradesman, two of the most
prominent patrons of the deception, for a conspiracy. The trial came on in
the Court of King's Bench, on the 10th of July, before Lord Chief-Justice
Mansfield, when, after an investigation which lasted twelve hours, the
whole of the conspirators were found guilty. The Rev. Mr. Moor and his
friend were severely reprimanded in open court, and recommended to make
some pecuniary compensation to the prosecutor for the aspersions they had
been instrumental in throwing upon his character. Parsons was sentenced to
stand three times in the pillory, and to be imprisoned for two years; his
wife to one year's, and his servant to six months' imprisonment in the
Bridewell. A printer, who had been employed by them to publish an account
of the proceedings for their profit, was also fined fifty pounds, and
discharged.
The precise manner in which the deception was carried on has never been
explained. The knocking in the wall appears to have been the work of
Parsons' wife, while the scratching part of the business was left to the
little girl. That any contrivance so clumsy could have deceived any body
cannot fail to excite our wonder. But thus it always is. If two or three
persons can only be found to take the lead in any absurdity, however
great, there is sure to be plenty of imitators. Like sheep in a field, if
one clears the stile, the rest will follow.
About ten years afterwards, London was again alarmed by the story of a
haunted house. Stockwell, near Vauxhall, the scene of the antics of this
new ghost, became almost as celebrated in the annals of superstition as
Cock Lane. Mrs. Golding, an elderly lady, who resided alone with her
servant, Anne Robinson, was sorely surprised on the evening of
Twelfth-Day, 1772, to observe a most extraordinary commotion among her
crockery. Cups and saucers rattled down the chimney--pots and pans were
whirled down stairs, or through the windows; and hams, cheeses, and loaves
of bread disported themselves upon the floor as if the devil were in them.
This, at least, was the conclusion that Mrs. Golding came to; and being
greatly alarmed, she invited some of her neighbours to stay with her, and
protect her from the evil one. Their presence, however, did not put a stop
to the insurrection of china, and every room in the house was in a short
time strewed with the fragments. The chairs and tables joined, at last, in
the tumult, and things looked altogether so serious and inexplicable, that
the neighbours, dreading that the house itself would next be seized with a
fit of motion, and tumble about their ears, left poor Mrs. Golding to bear
the brunt of it by herself. The ghost in this case was solemnly
remonstrated with, and urged to take its departure; but the demolition
continuing as great as before, Mrs. Golding finally made up her mind to
quit the house altogether. She took refuge with Anne Robinson in the house
of a neighbour; but his glass and crockery being immediately subjected to
the same persecution, he was reluctantly compelled to give her notice to
quit. The old lady thus forced back to her own house, endured the
disturbance for some days longer, when suspecting that Anne Robinson was
the cause of all the mischief, she dismissed her from her service. The
extraordinary appearances immediately ceased, and were never afterwards
renewed; a fact which is of itself sufficient to point out the real
disturber. A long time afterwards, Anne Robinson confessed the whole
matter to the Reverend Mr. Brayfield. This gentleman confided the story to
Mr. Hone, who has published an explanation of the mystery. Anne, it
appears, was anxious to have a clear house, to carry on an intrigue with
her lover, and resorted to this trick to effect her purpose. She placed
the china on the shelves in such a manner that it fell on the slightest
motion, and attached horse-hairs to other articles, so that she could jerk
them down from an adjoining room without being perceived by any one. She
was exceedingly dexterous at this sort of work, and would have proved a
formidable rival to many a juggler by profession. A full explanation of
the whole affair may be found in the _Every-day Book_.
The latest instance of the popular panic occasioned by a house supposed to
be haunted, occurred in Scotland, in the winter of the year 1838. On the
5th of December, the inmates of the farm-house of Baldarroch, in the
district of Banchory, Aberdeenshire, were alarmed by observing a great
number of sticks, pebble-stones, and clods of earth flying about their
yard and premises. They endeavoured, but in vain, to discover who was the
delinquent; and the shower of stones continuing for five days in
succession, they came at last to the conclusion that the devil and his
imps were alone the cause of it. The rumour soon spread over all that part
of the country, and hundreds of persons came from far and near to witness
the antics of the devils of Baldarroch. After the fifth day, the shower of
clods and stones ceased on the outside of the premises, and the scene
shifted to the interior. Spoons, knives, plates, mustard-pots,
rolling-pins, and flat-irons appeared suddenly endued with the power of
self-motion, and were whirled from room to room, and rattled down the
chimneys in a manner which nobody could account for. The lid of a
mustard-pot was put into a cupboard by the servant-girl in the presence of
scores of people, and in a few minutes afterwards came bouncing down the
chimney, to the consternation of every body. There was also a tremendous
knocking at the doors and on the roof, and pieces of stick and
pebble-stones rattled against the windows and broke them. The whole
neighbourhood was a scene of alarm; and not only the vulgar, but persons
of education, respectable farmers, within a circle of twenty miles,
expressed their belief in the supernatural character of these events, and
offered up devout prayers to be preserved from the machinations of the
Evil One. The note of fear being once sounded, the visitors, as is
generally the case in all tales of wonder, strove with each other who
should witness the most extraordinary occurrences; and within a week, it
was generally believed in the parishes of Banchory-Ternan, Drumoak,
Durris, Kincardine-O'Neil, and all the circumjacent districts of Mearns
and Aberdeenshire, that the devil had been seen in the act of hammering
upon the house-top of Baldarroch. One old man asserted positively that,
one night, after having been to see the strange gambols of the knives and
mustard-pots, he met the phantom of a great black man, "who wheeled round
his head with a whizzing noise, making a wind about his ears that almost
blew his bonnet off," and that he was haunted by him in this manner for
three miles. It was also affirmed and believed, that all horses and dogs
that approached this enchanted ground were immediately affected; that a
gentleman, slow of faith, had been cured of his incredulity by meeting the
butter-churn jumping in at the door as he himself was going out; that the
roofs of houses had been torn off, and that several ricks in the corn-yard
had danced a quadrille together, to the sound of the devil's bagpipes
re-echoing from the mountain-tops. The women in the family of the
persecuted farmer of Baldarroch also kept their tongues in perpetual
motion; swelling with their strange stories the tide of popular wonder.
The goodwife herself, and all her servants, said that, whenever they went
to bed, they were attacked with stones and other missiles, some of which
came below the blankets and gently tapped their toes. One evening, a shoe
suddenly darted across a garret where some labourers were sitting, and one
of the men, who attempted to catch it, swore positively that it was so hot
and heavy he was unable to hold it. It was also said that the bearbeater
(a sort of mortar used to bruise barley in)--an object of such weight that
it requires several men to move it--spontaneously left the barn and flew
over the house-top, alighting at the feet of one of the servant-maids, and
hitting her, but without hurting her in the least, or even causing her any
alarm; it being a fact well known to her, that all objects thus thrown
about by the devil lost their specific gravity, and could harm nobody,
even though they fell upon a person's head.
Among the persons drawn to Baldarroch by these occurrences were the
heritor, the minister, and all the elders of the Kirk, under whose
superintendence an investigation was immediately commenced. Their
proceedings were not promulgated for some days; and, in the mean time,
rumour continued to travel through all the Highlands, magnifying each
mysterious incident the farther it got from home. It was said, that when
the goodwife put her potato-pot on the fire, each potato, as the water
boiled, changed into a demon, and grinned horribly at her as she lifted
the lid; that not only chairs and tables, but carrots and turnips, skipped
along the floor in the merriest manner imaginable; that shoes and boots
went through all the evolutions of the Highland fling without any visible
wearers directing their motions; and that a piece of meat detached itself
from the hook on which it hung in the pantry, and placed itself before the
fire, whence all the efforts of the people of the house were unable to
remove it until it was thoroughly roasted; and that it then flew up the
chimney with a tremendous bang. At Baldarroch itself the belief was not
quite so extravagant; but the farmer was so convinced that the devil and
his imps were alone the cause of all the disturbance, that he travelled a
distance of forty miles to an old conjuror, named Willie Foreman, to
induce him, for a handsome fee, to remove the enchantment from his
property. There were, of course, some sensible and educated people, who,
after stripping the stories circulated of their exaggeration, attributed
all the rest to one or other of two causes; first, that some gipsies, or
strolling mendicants, hidden in the neighbouring plantation, were amusing
themselves by working on the credulity of the country people; or,
secondly, that the inmates of Baldarroch carried on this deception
themselves, for some reason or other, which was not very clear to any
body. The last opinion gained but few believers, as the farmer and his
family were much respected; and so many persons had, in the most open
manner, expressed their belief in the supernatural agency, that they did
not like to stultify themselves by confessing that they had been deceived.
At last, after a fortnight's continuance of the noises, the whole trick
was discovered. The two servant lasses were strictly examined, and then
committed to prison. It appeared that they were alone at the bottom of the
whole affair, and that the extraordinary alarm and credulity of their
master and mistress, in the first instance, and of the neighbours and
country people afterwards, made their task comparatively easy. A little
common dexterity was all they had used; and, being themselves unsuspected,
they swelled the alarm by the wonderful stories they invented. It was they
who loosened the bricks in the chimneys, and placed the dishes in such a
manner on the shelves, that they fell on the slightest motion. In short,
they played the same tricks as those used by the servant girl at
Stockwell, with the same results, and for the same purpose--the
gratification of a love of mischief. They were no sooner secured in the
county gaol than the noises ceased, and most people were convinced that
human agency alone had worked all the wonder. Some few of the most
devoutly superstitious still held out in their first belief, and refused
to listen to any explanation.
These tales of haunted houses, especially those of the last and present
century, however they may make us blush for popular folly, are yet
gratifying in their results; for they shew that society has made a vast
improvement. Had Parsons and his wife, and the other contrivers of the
Cock Lane deception, lived two hundred years earlier, they would not
perhaps have found a greater number of dupes, but they would have been
hanged as witches, instead of being imprisoned as vagabonds. The ingenious
Anne Robinson and the sly lasses of Baldarroch would doubtless have met a
similar fate. Thus it is pleasant to reflect, that though there may be as
much folly and credulity in the world as ever in one class of society,
there is more wisdom and mercy in another than ever were known before.
Lawgivers, by blotting from the statute-book the absurd or sanguinary
enactments of their predecessors, have made one step towards teaching the
people. It is to be hoped that the day is not far distant when lawgivers
will teach the people by some more direct means, and prevent the
recurrence of delusions like these, and many worse, which might be cited,
by securing to every child born within their dominions an education in
accordance with the advancing state of civilisation. If ghosts and witches
are not yet altogether exploded, it is the fault, not so much of the
ignorant people, as of the law and the government that have neglected to
enlighten them.
POPULAR FOLLIES OF GREAT CITIES.
La faridondaine--la faridondon,
Vive la faridondaine!--_Beranger_.
[Illustration: T]
The popular humours of a great city are a never-failing source of
amusement to the man whose sympathies are hospitable enough to embrace all
his kind, and who, refined though he may be himself, will not sneer at the
humble wit or grotesque peculiarities of the boozing mechanic, the squalid
beggar, the vicious urchin, and all the motley group of the idle, the
reckless, and the imitative that swarm in the alleys and broadways of a
metropolis. He who walks through a great city to find subjects for
weeping, may find plenty at every corner to wring his heart; but let such
a man walk on his course, and enjoy his grief alone--we are not of those
who would accompany him. The miseries of us poor earth-dwellers gain no
alleviation from the sympathy of those who merely hunt them out to be
pathetic over them. The weeping philosopher too often impairs his eyesight
by his woe, and becomes unable from his tears to see the remedies for the
evils which he deplores. Thus it will often be found that the man of no
tears is the truest philanthropist, as he is the best physician who wears
a cheerful face, even in the worst of cases.
So many pens have been employed to point out the miseries, and so many to
condemn the crimes and vices, and more serious follies of the multitude,
that ours shall not increase the number, at least in this chapter. Our
present task shall be less ungracious, and wandering through the busy
haunts of great cities, we shall seek only for amusement, and note as we
pass a few of the harmless follies and whimsies of the poor.
And, first of all, walk where we will, we cannot help hearing from every
side a phrase repeated with delight, and received with laughter, by men
with hard hands and dirty faces, by saucy butcher lads and errand-boys, by
loose women, by hackney coachmen, cabriolet-drivers, and idle fellows who
loiter at the corners of streets. Not one utters this phrase without
producing a laugh from all within hearing. It seems applicable to every
circumstance, and is the universal answer to every question; in short, it
is the favourite slang phrase of the day, a phrase that, while its brief
season of popularity lasts, throws a dash of fun and frolicsomeness over
the existence of squalid poverty and ill-requited labour, and gives them
reason to laugh as well as their more fortunate fellows in a higher stage
of society.
London is peculiarly fertile in this sort of phrases, which spring up
suddenly, no one knows exactly in what spot, and pervade the whole
population in a few hours, no one knows how. Many years ago the favourite
phrase (for, though but a monosyllable, it was a phrase in itself) was
Quoz. This odd word took the fancy of the multitude in an extraordinary
degree, and very soon acquired an almost boundless meaning. When vulgar
wit wished to mark its incredulity, and raise a laugh at the same time,
there was no resource so sure as this popular piece of slang. When a man
was asked a favour which he did not choose to grant, he marked his sense
of the suitor's unparalleled presumption by exclaiming _Quoz_! When a
mischievous urchin wished to annoy a passenger, and create mirth for his
comrades, he looked him in the face, and cried out _Quoz!_ and the
exclamation never failed in its object. When a disputant was desirous of
throwing a doubt upon the veracity of his opponent, and getting summarily
rid of an argument which he could not overturn, he uttered the word
_Quoz_, with a contemptuous curl of his lip, and an impatient shrug of his
shoulders. The universal monosyllable conveyed all his meaning, and not
only told his opponent that he lied, but that he erred egregiously if he
thought that any one was such a nincompoop as to believe him. Every
alehouse resounded with _Quoz_; every street-corner was noisy with it, and
every wall for miles around was chalked with it.
But, like all other earthly things, _Quoz_ had its season, and passed away
as suddenly as it arose, never again to be the pet and the idol of the
populace. A new claimant drove it from its place, and held undisputed sway
till, in its turn, it was hurled from its pre-eminence, and a successor
appointed in its stead.
"_What a shocking bad hat!_" was the phrase that was next in vogue. No
sooner had it become universal, than thousands of idle but sharp eyes were
on the watch for the passenger whose hat shewed any signs, however slight,
of ancient service. Immediately the cry arose, and, like the war-whoop of
the Indians, was repeated by a hundred discordant throats. He was a wise
man who, finding himself under these circumstances "the observed of all
observers," bore his honours meekly. He who shewed symptoms of ill-feeling
at the imputations cast upon his hat, only brought upon himself redoubled
notice. The mob soon perceive whether a man is irritable, and, if of their
own class, they love to make sport of him. When such a man, and with such
a hat, passed in those days through a crowded neighbourhood, he might
think himself fortunate if his annoyances were confined to the shouts and
cries of the populace. The obnoxious hat was often snatched from his head
and thrown into the gutter by some practical joker, and then raised,
covered with mud, upon the end of a stick, for the admiration of the
spectators, who held their sides with laughter, and exclaimed, in the
pauses of their mirth, "_Oh, what a shocking bad hat!_" "_What a shocking
bad hat!_" Many a nervous poor man, whose purse could but ill spare the
outlay, doubtless purchased a new hat before the time, in order to avoid
exposure in this manner.
The origin of this singular saying, which made fun for the metropolis for
months, is not involved in the same obscurity as that which shrouds the
origin of _Quoz_ and some others. There had been a hotly contested
election for the borough of Southwark, and one of the candidates was an
eminent hatter. This gentleman, in canvassing the electors, adopted a
somewhat professional mode of conciliating their good-will, and of bribing
them without letting them perceive that they were bribed. Whenever he
called upon or met a voter whose hat was not of the best material, or,
being so, had seen its best days, he invariably said, "_What a shocking
bad hat you have got; call at my warehouse, and you shall have a new
one!_" Upon the day of election this circumstance was remembered, and his
opponents made the most of it, by inciting the crowd to keep up an
incessant cry of "_What a shocking bad hat!_" all the time the honourable
candidate was addressing them. From Southwark the phrase spread over all
London, and reigned for a time the supreme slang of the season.
_Hookey Walker_, derived from the chorus of a popular ballad, was also
high in favour at one time, and served, like its predecessor _Quoz_, to
answer all questions. In the course of time, the latter word alone became
the favourite, and was uttered with a peculiar drawl upon the first
syllable, and a sharp turn upon the last. If a lively servant girl was
importuned for a kiss by a fellow she did not care about, she cocked her
little nose, and cried "_Walker!_" If a dustman asked his friend for the
loan of a shilling, and his friend was either unable or unwilling to
accommodate him, the probable answer he would receive was, "_Walker!_" If
a drunken man was reeling about the streets, and a boy pulled his
coat-tails, or a man knocked his hat over his eyes to make fun of him, the
joke was always accompanied by the same exclamation. This lasted for two
or three months, and "_Walker!_" walked off the stage, never more to be
revived for the entertainment of that or any future generation.