SOME STRANGE EVENTS
After my marriage my husband and I passed some time in the United States
and Canada; we then returned to England and took a place in
Cambridgeshire. We were both very fond of racing, and attended all the
meetings at Newmarket.
One day I drove by appointment to the house of a neighbor who had asked
me to meet Miss Catherine Bates, author of that interesting book, "Seen
and Unseen."
Just before I started my husband, half in fun, and knowing Miss Bates to
be a psychic, said, "Ask her what horse is going to win the
Cambridgeshire."
I promised to put the question and drove off. I had a most interesting
visit, but I totally forgot to ask Miss Bates for the winner of the
coming race.
It was not until I was seated in the victoria, exchanging a few parting
words with the two ladies standing in the doorway to bid me good-by,
that I suddenly recollected my husband's request. As the horses were
starting I called out to Miss Bates--
"Tell me what's going to win 'The Cambridgeshire?'"
The answer was prompt and clear:
"Marco to win, ---- for a place." (I regret I cannot remember the name
of the second horse.)
As I drove away I waved my thanks, and directly I got home I told my
husband--"Marco to win, ---- for a place."
He was much interested in this "tip" from so well-known a psychic, and
of course we backed "Marco to win and ---- for a place" for all we were
worth. I wish I could remember the odds. I only know that they were
"long."
The event duly came off, and I wrote to Miss Bates thanking her for the
good turn she had done us.
Her reply astounded me.
She began by saying she had not heard me put any question to her
regarding the winner of the Cambridgeshire, and went on to say that she
knew nothing about racing, and knew none of the horses' names, therefore
it was impossible that she could have given me the "tip."
Her hostess cared nothing for racing, and was as ignorant as she was
upon the subject, but she did remember hearing me call out to Miss
Bates, "What's going to win the Cambridgeshire?"
I then questioned our coachman and footman. Both distinctly remembered
my calling out the question, and both, keen on racing, listened for the
reply, but they heard none.
Where did that answer come from? I cannot tell. Was some spirit
interested in racing hovering near? Did he contrive to drop the "tip"
into my mind, open at that moment and eager to catch the response?
A year after the event I have recounted above, I was resting one
afternoon in the summer-time. I had been ill, and was not yet strong
enough to lead an ordinary life, and I was lying on a sofa in a top
floor room. The room immediately beneath me was the drawing-room, and
the weather being hot all the windows were wide open. The house we
inhabited was quite isolated in its own park, and the village was about
half a mile distant. My husband was from home, and I was alone in that
particular part of the house, the servants' quarters being at the back,
and shut off from the rest.
Out of the absolute quiet suddenly came the sound of music. Some one was
playing my piano in the drawing-room below. This, in itself, caused me
irritation, but no surprise. I was not well enough to entertain callers
at tea, due in half an hour, and I had given orders that I would see no
one, but it had happened before that the musical neighbors had called,
and whilst waiting for me had sat down to the piano.
I was too annoyed to hasten downstairs. I lay waiting for the butler to
come to me and inform me why my orders had been disobeyed. Meanwhile I
listened to the music, and wondered greatly who the brilliant pianist
could be. I did not recognize the music, but it sounded quite modern,
and requiring a great amount of technique. The player was, however, a
most brilliant performer, who had acquired considerable skill.
"Evidently a professional," I thought, and wondered all the more who it
could possibly be.
Still there were no signs of the ascending butler, and time continued to
pass. I began to feel obstinate, and determined to remain where I was,
until I was correctly informed of the caller's identity.
The music steadily continued, every note borne to my ears as clearly as
if I had been in the room with the performer. "Very wonderful music, but
soulless," I concluded, and though my curiosity was growing every
moment my obstinacy prevailed, and I remained where I was. At last,
after quite twenty minutes, the music suddenly stopped; it broke off in
the middle of a movement.
I rose at once, and went downstairs feeling very cross. I pushed open
the drawing-room door and entered. It was absolutely empty, but the
piano, which had not been opened for several weeks, was open now. I went
to the window which commanded the avenue; not a soul was in sight. Then
I rang the bell, and when the butler entered the following dialogue took
place:----
"Who was the caller who has just been?"
"There have been no callers to-day, madam."
"But surely you heard the piano being played?"
"We heard a lot of music, but we thought it was you playing, madam."
"Then you all heard it?"
"All of us in the hall heard it, madam."
I left it at that. Suddenly it came to me that I had better not push my
inquiries further. Until that second it had never occurred to me that
the performer might be a disembodied spirit.
The butler did not leave the matter alone, but made every inquiry at the
Lodge, and also of the out-door servants, but nothing came of it. No one
had seen a stranger, and the silver was intact. My maid told me some
time afterwards that the household had shaken down to the conviction
that I had really been the performer, and that my recent illness had
caused me to forget the fact. I let this conviction remain unshaken, but
I marveled at the lack of musical discrimination my household displayed.
The disparity between my strumming and the brilliant execution of my
spirit guest was so vast that I could not even feel flattered by their
mistake.
A year or two after we took a cottage on the Thames, and there, during
our summer visits, I had an uncomfortable time.
There was something wrong with the sideboard end of the dining-room. For
a long time I could not make out what it was. My attention was
constantly being attracted to the spot. If I passed the door I thought
instantly of the sideboard. In plain language, I was constantly being
invited, by some invisible person, to come in and have a drink. If I was
putting anything away in the sideboard the suggestion was always very
strong. On the outside stood a tantalus of spirits and soda water, ready
to refresh any calling boating men. Inside the cupboards were wine
decanters.
I always resisted the suggestion, I suppose because I did not happen to
want anything to drink--for years I have been a total abstainer, and at
the time I certainly did not realize the menace of those suggestions.
Now and again I caught sight of a small oblong gray cloud hovering in
front of the sideboard but it was not till many months afterwards that I
saw something much more definite. The gray shadow had become the clearly
defined shade of a small woman. She hovered about the spot in a
wavering, undecided manner. It was apparent that she was seeking
something. One day, in a flash, I recognized the truth, the suggestion
came from her. She was inviting me to drink with her.
My husband and I set to work to find out who this unfortunate woman had
been when she dwelt on earth. We discovered a very sad story. She had
been a celebrity of the half world, and I had actually seen her in the
flesh. She had traveled to Monte Carlo one winter in the next sleeping
compartment to ours, and she had lived for some years in our riverside
cottage. Latterly she had fallen an incurable victim to drinking, and
had died of it. Poor little soul; my heart went out to her in deepest
pity, but I was glad to leave the cottage forever, when in 1898 we went
to live at my husband's place, Balquholly, Aberdeenshire.
Some people, perhaps once in their lives, become sensitive enough to
recognize a visitor from the Astral plane. If the occasion is not
repeated they believe themselves to have been victims of hallucinations.
Others find themselves seeing and hearing, with increasing frequency,
something to which those around them are blind and deaf. They realize,
in fact, that they are in touch with the Astral plane, the region lying
next to our world of dense matter, and often some Astral entity on the
lowest levels of that plane is continuously striving to work through
their mediumship. The world is very far from realizing this danger. What
are those entities working for?
The man or woman who has led a decently pure life on earth will have no
attraction to the lowest levels, contiguous with earth, of the Astral
plane, and will, at so-called death, pass swiftly through it. But, alas!
the vast majority have by no means freed themselves from all lower
desires before passing over, and it takes a considerable time before the
evil forces generated on earth work themselves out on "the other side."
The length of man's detention on the lower level will depend entirely
on the earthly life he has lived, and the quality of the desires he has
indulged in.
The desires of a drunkard, a debaucher, are as strong after death as
before. The present Bishop of London made that very clear in one of his
Easter addresses, but the subject finds it impossible, without a
physical body, to gratify his lusts. Occasionally it can be done in a
vicarious manner, when he is able to seize on a like minded person and
obsess him or her, or when he finds a medium who consciously or
unconsciously panders to his desires. For this reason I hold it to be
imperative for safety's sake, that every genuine medium should be a
total abstainer.
How often one is asked the question: "What is a medium?"
It is a difficult question to answer in a few words. I should put it
thus----
A medium is one whose principles, physical, mental, spiritual, are so
loosely bound together that an Astral entity can draw from him without
difficulty the matter it requires for manifestation. The very essence of
mediumship is the ready separability of the principles.
In the case of the poor little woman I have mentioned, she was fortunate
enough not to meet with (in me) a sensitive, through whom her passion
could be vicariously gratified.
Such unfulfilled desires gradually burn themselves out, and the
suffering caused in the process no doubt goes to work off evil Karma
generated in the past life. It is the soul that desires, the body is but
the tool to grasp the desire, and after death old lusts crowd upon the
departed. Thirsty with no throat; sensual with no body to grip the foul
desire, soon it is learned that the worst evils and the hardest to undo
have been woven out of the mind.
Here is another story or two relating to one of the most puzzling
mysteries in ghost lore--the phenomena of temporary hauntings.
Why do ghosts suddenly take possession of a house with which, in their
incarnate days, they have had no connection?
Such ghosts differ from those only seen once. They take up their abode
in a dwelling which has absolutely no traditions of haunting. They will
be seen and heard on many occasions, for a few months, possibly for a
few years. They will then suddenly depart, and be seen or heard no more.
Such apparitions cannot readily be traced to any defunct friend or
member of the family. They have no known connection with the house in
which they appear, and no one can form the faintest conception why they
should suddenly elect to "walk" within those four walls, which hitherto
have been normal and free from "other side" visitors.
A case of this description happened to my youngest brother, who, before
he bought his present country house, lived in a detached, new building,
not far from the Dean Bridge, in Edinburgh.
He had occupied this house for some years previous to his experience,
and had neither heard nor seen anything of a spooky nature. The
manifestation only lasted for a few weeks. Nothing in the form of a
ghost was seen, but much was heard.
I will give the story in my brother's own words:
"On a certain evening, a year or two ago, I went out after dinner to
visit some friends, and returned home about half-past eleven.
"Not feeling inclined to go to bed, I took up a book and sat down to
read for half an hour.
"About a quarter-past midnight I suddenly became aware that stealthy
footsteps were coming upstairs. Looking at my watch I thought it very
strange that any of the maids should be still up at such a late hour.
"The door was well ajar, and I arose from my chair, listening intently,
as I crossed the room. The footsteps were now quite distinct, and I knew
at once they were not those of any woman. They were the stealthy
footsteps of a man, and naturally I at once concluded that he was a
burglar.
"I calculated swiftly that he would either enter the room in which I
stood, or he would go on and up the next flight of stairs to the
bedrooms. In any case, he had to be faced and caught. I realized that,
and I much regretted I had nothing at hand which would help me, should
he prove to be armed.
"There was, however, no time for further thought. Every second brought
him nearer, and taking up a position just behind the door, I waited till
he arrived on the landing, and until he came to the spot when he must
either turn in, or go on upstairs.
"The moment came, almost at once. With a sudden bound I sprang out to
close with him. Lo! and behold! nothing was to be seen! Nothing was now
to be heard, except the ticking of a clock.
"I stood still and absolutely astounded. The footsteps had been no trick
of imagination, I was very sure of that. Had I not heard them stealthily
beginning the ascent of the stairs, and grow louder the nearer they
approached me?
"I mopped my brow. Would any self-respecting burglar have come on, and
up a lighted staircase, and along a landing towards a room which he must
have known was still occupied, as the light shone through the half-open
door? Are burglars ever as rash as that?
"Then I reminded myself that as there was no burglar in the case my
speculations were mere waste of time.
"I put out the lights, and went to bed in a very uncomfortable frame of
mind.
"The next day, when I returned home from business, my housekeeper
informed me that a strange man had been walking about the house. She had
not seen him, though she had looked for him--that was the curious part
of it, but she had heard him quite distinctly, several times, and she
didn't like it one little bit. Not that she was frightened! Oh! dear no,
but it was uncanny, and she thought she had better tell me. I thanked
her and assured her that there was nothing to fear. The house was quite
new, and uncanny things never happen in new houses. I advised her not to
mention the subject to any one but me, and told her that I was not going
out again that evening.
"After dinner I settled down in my room, to wait for the footsteps I
instinctively felt sure would return. I kept the lights burning on
stairs and landing, and set the door half open, placing my chair in such
a position that I could see any one who passed outside the room on the
landing. This time I did not think of arming myself. I had come to the
firm conclusion that the sounds came from no person living in the flesh.
As no house adjoined mine I had no 'next door' on which to lay the
blame for the disturbance.
"Sure enough, about an hour earlier this time, the unknown, unseen
visitor began his ascent of my staircase. I cannot describe my feelings
during those moments of waiting for 'it' to pass. I can only say they
were intensely unpleasant, and I hope I may never again have to confess
myself to be a wretched coward. A burglar would at that moment have
appeared to me in the guise of a dear friend.
"However, the thing had to be faced, there was no one else that I could
put onto the job, and so I simply sat still and waited, with my eyes
fixed on the landing outside. The steps came on, distinct enough, and
growing nearer and louder. They arrived on the landing, they reached my
door, they passed, and proceeded to mount the next flight of steps to
the bedrooms. I had seen absolutely nothing.
"I rose and walked out on to the landing, and looked up at the brightly
lit staircase. I could mark, by the sound, the progress made by those
invisible feet. They passed on to the bedroom floor, and with heartfelt
gratitude I heard them enter, not mine, but an empty room. I heard
nothing more that night. Presumably the ghost remained quietly in his
comfortable quarters.
"The next day came more complaints from the housekeeper. The 'strange
man' not only promenaded the house at intervals, but he had the
impertinence to ring several bells. I wondered if a whisky and soda left
casually on his dressing-table would appease his thirst for summoning
the servants in this irritating fashion.
"For some days after this we were left in peace, and I began to hope
that 'it' had betaken itself to the house of some other chap, but no
such luck!
"One evening I was in the dining-room decanting some wine before dinner.
It was just seven o'clock, when I heard 'its' footsteps again. This time
they were coming downstairs. I went to the door and looked out. There
was no one to be seen. I reentered the dining-room and shut 'it' out. I
suppose 'it' had been having a rest in the bedroom. I trusted 'it' meant
to have a night out.
"A moment or two later I heard a click near the fireplace, and looking
towards the spot whence this sound came, I saw the handle of the bell
being pulled back. In another second the bell rang.
"When the maid answered it I was ready for her.
"'Oh! don't you know what that is?' I inquired with mild sarcasm. 'Only
mice crossing the wires. Nothing to be frightened of in that, is there?'
"I stuck to this all through the weeks that followed. The maids ceased
to answer the bells, and went early to bed in a bunch. They no longer
required rooms to themselves.
"In a few months the trouble stopped as suddenly as it had begun. 'It'
had evidently found other quarters more to 'its' liking. The mice were
equally obliging. They ceased running across the wires."
What theory will explain this species of haunting which is quite common?
May it not be that this disembodied entity attached itself to my brother
whilst he was out, and like a lost dog followed him home? There must be
countless entities wandering about all over this globe, seeking an
abiding-place for their restless souls. People who find themselves as
bereft of friends on the other side of death, as they were in earth
life. Those who have friends here have doubtless friends there.
In old days we used to think of a post-mortem abode as somewhere in the
skies. Some even mentioned a receiving station in the bowels of the
earth. Now I find that the majority of educated people have come to
regard so-called death as merely a change of consciousness, and the
immediate post-mortem sphere of our activities to be a region
interpenetrating this earth.
* * * * *
A county neighbor of ours in Aberdeenshire told me of a very tantalizing
experience he had a very few years ago of temporary haunting. This was a
case of seeing, not hearing.
The time was late autumn, and his family had gone south for the winter,
leaving him alone for a week or two to finish up the shooting.
One night, immediately after he had dined, he ran upstairs to his
bedroom to fetch something. On coming out of his room again, what was
his astonishment to see, walking in front of him, a tall young lady,
very smartly dressed in the height of the prevailing fashion. She wore
black satin, cut very low and without sleeves, and she moved very
quietly along the passage, and proceeded to go downstairs. She never
turned her elaborately coiffed head, and he could not see her face. He
followed, too speechless with amazement to address her. Who on earth
could she be? Where was she going? Nine o'clock at night; only two old
servants in the house! In the depth of the country, and nine miles away
from anywhere! And this charming young lady who so unexpectedly had made
her appearance to brighten his solitude!
What a surprising adventure! The situation was piquant to say the least
of it.
He followed immediately behind the attractive vision. He even wondered
what room he would have prepared for her. So absolutely real did she
look, that not for a second did he doubt she was ordinary flesh and
blood.
When describing her afterwards to me he said, "I can assure you I saw
the actual white flesh of her bare arms and shoulders. I was close
behind her."
The lady moved composedly on, walking with supple grace and perfect
self-possession. She was not in the least hurried or flustered. She
reached the bottom of the stairs, and he had a momentary fear that she
would make for the front door, where surely a Rolls Royce would be
awaiting her. Not so! She walked straight into the dining-room. He
followed.
As he entered the door she had gained the opposite end of the room,
where the sideboard stood.
For a second she stood still, turned and glanced round at him with an
enchanting smile of delicate raillery. Then she deliberately walked
through the sideboard and wall beyond, and was lost to sight.
The beholder of this ghost had never seen anything of the sort before,
and was, if anything, a disbeliever in psychic phenomena. He is a
perfectly healthy, normal country gentleman, whose principal hobby is
sport, and who prefers a country life out of doors to the life of an
intellectual student.
Needless to say the occurrence puzzled him beyond measure. He could not
"place" the lady, and was certain that he had never seen her before. Her
dress proclaimed her to be absolutely modern.
Though in roundabout ways he tried to find out if any woman, answering
to her description, was visiting at the time in any of the neighboring
country houses, he failed entirely to get any result.
Being rather shy of the chaff he knew would be indulged in at his
expense, he mentioned the incident to no one. He took careful notes of
date, time, and other particulars, and kept a strict watch, but the lady
appeared no more during his stay, and before Christmas he went south to
rejoin his family.
He did not forget the experience. When the following autumn came round
he found himself again in the North, under exactly similar
circumstances. Eagerly he anticipated the anniversary of his first
ghost. He was waiting for her on the landing outside his bedroom door,
and suddenly she sprang into sight from nowhere. To-night he had
determined to lay hold of her, but he calculated without his ghost. She
sped downstairs, this time as if she was well aware that he was in
pursuit. They gained the dining-room almost neck to neck, and this time
she made no pause before slipping through the wall. She simply looked
back at him over her shoulder, and smiled at him enchantingly,
provokingly. Then he found himself alone.
The following year was blank. She came no more.
Why did she come to that house, with which, it is certain, she had no
connection? Why did she only appear twice, and both times on the same
date?
Such are the questions one asks in vain, but such fugitive visions
suggest the whisperings of a voice which calls out in the wilderness,
and leads through life's enigmas to the final awakening.
There are visions of beauty to which we are blind, and joyous harmonies
we do not hear. There are depths of feeling we have not plumbed, and
heights we have not aspired to, yet I am sure if we but place ourselves
in a simple attitude of receptiveness, we will draw nearer to the glory
of the unseen, and Nature's finer forces will draw nearer to us.