POMPEY AND THE DUCHESS
Have animals souls?
I unhesitatingly answer "Yes."
If my dog has not a soul then neither have I--my dreams of immortality
are merely a delusion. I base my belief upon the God-like qualities
found in animals--the highest quality of all, love, pure, and
unadulterated by self-seeking.
The oldest scriptures of the world tell us that when wild animals die
their life flows back into a group soul, a mass, as it were, of
undifferentiated life essence. As the animal becomes domesticated, as a
dog or cat learns to live with man, shares in his joys and sorrows, to
be his constant companion, then it advances rapidly in evolution. It is
developing human qualities, and in due time will no more return to merge
in the group soul, but be born into the human family. A lowly human
family it is true, a primitive savage to begin with, but that animal has
passed one of the most important milestones on the long, lone trail. It
will never more return to the world in the form of the beast, henceforth
it will commence its slow ascent from the most elementary human body to
the exalted heights of a god. They tell us in the East: "First a stone,
then a plant, then an animal, then a man, and finally a God." This is
how the wisdom of the East understands Divine evolution.
Cases where the ghosts of animals have been seen are becoming quite
common. Before describing the astral apparitions of some of our animals,
I will recall a very interesting case which was investigated in recent
years at Ballechin, Perthshire. The accounts of the Ballechin hauntings
are contained in a big volume, but at present I am only concerned in the
four-footed ghosts that were seen. The trouble began upon the death of
the eccentric owner, old Major Stewart, in 1876. He had frequently
stated his intention of haunting the place after his death, and,
furthermore, had asserted his determination to "walk" in the form of one
of his many dogs, a favorite black spaniel.
The family, anxious, as they thought, to be on the safe side, had all
the pack, numbering fourteen, destroyed at the death of their master,
but this wholesale slaughter of the innocents proved of no avail.
The first intimation of its futility was immediately apparent. The wife
of the old Major's nephew and heir was seated one day adding up accounts
in the dead man's study, when the room was suddenly invaded by the old
doggy smell, and an unseen dog pushed distinctly up against her.
Many other unpleasant incidents followed after, but the really great
happenings did not begin till 1896, when a shooting tenant, after a week
or two, was compelled to quit the house, and forfeit the considerable
rent he had paid in advance.
The above fact came to the notice of that inveterate ghost-hunter, the
late Marquis of Bute, and he, and several other members of the Psychical
Society, hired the house, and went into residence. _The Times_ of June,
1897, contains elaborate details of the various experiences and the
names of the investigators.
The phenomena they describe are very startling, but perhaps the most
unnerving specter was the frequent appearance of a black spaniel, which
was seen by numerous persons. One member of the party had brought a
black spaniel of his own. He saw it run across the room, when at that
moment the real dog--his own--entered and began to fraternize with the
ghost dog.
Two ladies occupying the same bedroom had a curious experience. A pet
dog on the end of the bed began to whine, and looking to where its eyes
were fixed they saw, not the black spaniel, but two black paws on the
table by the bed.
Various other sorts of dogs were seen by many people. The black spaniel
by no means had the monopoly, and dogs, purposely brought by the
investigators to aid them in their elucidation of the mystery, made
friends or exhibited mistrust of the pack of ghost dogs haunting both
house and grounds.
Twice in my life I have seen the wraith of our own dogs, "Pompey" and
"Triff." Pompey was a big brindled bulldog of terrifying aspect and
angelic nature. My husband and I adored him, and his death caused us
great grief. Indeed, the whole household mourned him long and deeply.
One day, about ten days after his death, I suddenly caught sight of him
walking in front of me down the avenue.
On the spur of the moment I called him by name, then he vanished.
I mentioned this occurrence to my maid, who at once told me the
kitchenmaid had seen him in exactly the same place.
When alive on earth "Pompey" had a habit of stealing into a guest's room
when the early tea was brought up. He would lie in wait in a dark
corner and then attempt to enter behind the maid or valet. When the door
was shut again he would emerge from his hiding-place, and attempt to
leap on the bed. He was exceedingly gentle and affectionate, but
externally he was so forbidding that his offers of friendship were not
always accepted, and he was a great weight.
One day a Mrs. Shelton came to stay with us, and the next morning asked
to have her room changed, because "Pompey" had kept walking round her
bed all night, and she had not been able to sleep. She was sure it was
"Pompey," because she recognized his peculiar, heavy, slithering
movements.
Some time after this Millicent, Duchess of Sutherland, came to pay us a
visit. She had been very overworked, and needed a complete rest. She
brought with her a maid and a small French bulldog, and she and the maid
occupied a suite of three rooms, two bedrooms and a bathroom, shut off
from the rest of the house by a heavy swing door.
The French bulldog was accustomed to sleep in the maid's room. We had no
dog left of our own. The beautiful Duchess went to bed about half-past
ten; she was very tired and ought to have slept well, but she didn't.
In the night she was awakened by what she took to be her own bulldog
prowling round her bed, yet its footsteps sounded strangely heavy.
She knew nothing about "Pompey's" ghostly visits; we had been careful
not to mention them.
When she came downstairs the next morning she told us what a disturbed
night she had passed through. She was awakened soon after midnight by
the restless movements of a bulldog round her bed. She did not doubt it
was her own dog, that owing to the forgetfulness of her maid had been
left asleep under her bed. She called it, and at the same time switched
on the light, but could see no signs of any dog at all. Rather puzzled,
but concluding that she must have been mistaken, she composed herself to
sleep once more.
Before very long the noise began again. A bulldog with its heavy,
slouching tread was moving about round her bed.
This time the Duchess got up, and made a thorough search of her room,
but could see nothing in the shape of any animal. Yet so convinced was
she that a dog had been in the room, that she determined to look into
her maid's room to see if her own dog was there.
She opened her maid's door, which was shut, and went into the room. The
woman was asleep, and on the bed at her feet slept the French bulldog.
There was nothing to be done but to go back to her own bed once more,
and try to sleep in spite of the disturbances.
This was the story the Duchess told us, and added to me, "If he comes
again to-night I shall come along to your room and rouse you."
It did not come again. The peculiarity of "Pompey's" visits was that
they only occurred once to each stranger, though he came several times
to me, as was but natural.
We honored his memory by raising to him a large granite headstone, on
which was inscribed--
"Soft lies the turf on one who finds his rest,
Here, on our common Mother's ample breast,
Unstained by meanness, avarice and pride,
He never flattered and he never lied.
No gluttonous excess his slumbers broke,
No burning alcohol, no stifling smoke.
He ne'er intrigued a rival to displace,
He ran, but never betted on a race.
Content with harmless sports and moderate food,
Boundless in love, and faith and gratitude.
Happy the man, if there be any such,
Of whom his epitaph can say as much.
"On this spot
are deposited the remains of one
who possessed beauty without vanity,
strength without insolence,
courage without ferocity,
and all the virtues of man without his vices.
This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery
if inscribed over human ashes,
is but a just tribute to the memory of
'Pompey' a dog.
Born 1891. Died 1902."
Our next dog, "Triff," was a very handsome sable collie. Of course, we
became devoted to him, and when he also passed away we felt very
desolate without him.
For a long time I never could feel that he had left me. Though I could
not see him, I used to speak to him, just as if I could see the dear
presence I so strongly felt. It was hard that I never could catch a
glimpse of him, because others did. The butler saw him many times, and
my maid caught sight of him twice.
One often reads in ghost books of abnormal animal-like creatures being
seen by psychics, but it is rare to meet with living individuals who can
testify to such personal experiences.
I remember Lilian, Countess of Cromartie, telling me of a strange
incident that once happened to her.
She was walking alone one bright summer morning in Windsor Great Park.
Suddenly she saw an amazing looking creature loping slowly towards her.
It resembled an enormous hare. That is to say, its legs and head were
those of a hare, but its size was that of a goat, and its horned head
was half-goat, half-hare. This creature, loping without any fear, and
with a hare's movement straight towards her, caused her to pause. She
stood still and breathlessly waited its approach. It passed quite close
to her, and as it did so she struck at it with her parasol. Instantly it
disappeared.
Princess Frederica of Hanover, always intensely interested in psychic
phenomena, and herself no tyro in psychic knowledge, told me many years
ago that she had seen several different sorts of abnormal animals, quite
unknown to this earth, and under circumstances which left no doubt as to
their actual existence.
Many years ago there was much talk amongst a certain set of an
experience that had come to a foreign Grand Duchess and her husband, who
spent much of their time in England. This couple were traveling in the
wilds of Greece, and one night they wandered out together on to a bare
mountain side. Sitting down to rest they were enjoying the beauty and
utter loneliness of the moonlit scene, when they suddenly heard the
galloping of many horses' hoofs approaching them. This astonished them
greatly, as they were in so wild and unfrequented a part of the country.
There was no road near them, and it seemed strange to hear horses
galloping so fast on such rough ground at night, even though there was a
moon.
Husband and wife stood up immediately in order to show themselves. The
sound suggested a headlong rush, and they feared that in another second
a whole regiment might ride over them.
They had not long to wait. A troop of creatures, half-men, half-horses,
tore past them, helter-skelter. Fleet and sure-footed they thundered by,
and they brought with them the most wonderful sense of joy and
exhilaration. Neither the Grand Duchess nor her husband felt the
smallest fear; on the contrary, both were seized by a wild elation, a
desire to be one of that splendid legion. The thundering of their hoofs
spread over the hills, and died away into the distance.
On returning to their camp the husband and wife found an uproar.
Something had gone wrong with the Greek servants, who were shivering
with terror, and struggling with equally terrified horses to prevent a
stampede. All that could be learned from the Greeks was that they had
heard something, something known of and greatly feared.
I happened to hear the Grand Duchess tell of her weird experience, and I
have often wondered in later years if Algernon Blackwood had also heard
the story, and founded upon it his fascinating book, "The Centaur."
There were several people in the room whilst the Grand Duchess was
unfolding, in the most impressive manner, this strange event. Amongst
them was the first Lady Henry Grosvenor, born Miss Erskine Wemyss of
Wemyss Castle.
She told us that when a child of seven years old, she had passed through
some minutes of such absolute terror, that as long as she lived she
would never forget the experience.
With another child, and a nurse in attendance, she was playing one
summer morning out of doors. After a little while the nurse rose from
her seat amongst the heather, and wandered away a short distance, out of
sight but not out of hearing.
A few moments after the two little girls heard some bushes behind them
rustling, and a huge creature, half-goat, half-man, emerged and
leisurely crossing the road in front of them plunged into the woods
beyond and was lost to sight. Both children were thrown into a paroxysm
of terror, and screamed loudly. The nurse ran back to them, and when
told what was the matter scolded them for their foolish fancies. No such
animal existed, such as they described, an animal much bigger than a
goat, that walked upright, and had but two legs, and two hoofs, that was
covered with shaggy brown hair from the waist downward, and had the
smooth skin of a man from the waist upward!
The nurse bade them come home at once, and as they gained the road Miss
Wemyss pointed down into the dust. Clearly defined was the track of a
two-hoofed creature that had crossed at that spot. The nurse stared for
a moment or two, then with one accord they all ran. She never took her
charges near that spot again.
Lady Henry said that the memory of that experience was so firmly grafted
on her mind that she could always recall with perfect clarity the exact
appearance of this appalling creature. In after years, when grown up,
she realized from pictures that what she had seen was a Faun or Satyr.
Such pictures or statues always sent a thrill of horror through her. She
attributed this apparition to the fact that she and her companion were
playing close to the site of a Roman camp, and the road was an old Roman
road.
She went on to say that the Grand Duchess had given her courage to tell
this incredible story. It was as absolutely real to her as was the
passing of the Centaurs to the Grand Duchess.
The whole scene stood out in brilliant light as a picture before her,
whenever she thought of it, which she very often did. She never
mentioned it to any one, as she felt that no one would believe her. She
could always smell again the scent of summer, and the odor of pine
trees, and hear the trickling of water from a tiny stream. She could
always see a wide, white road, ribbon-like stretching away to the
horizon. Then, suddenly, she and her young companion stood face to face
with a presence, a hideous, unspeakable shape, that was neither man nor
beast.
She believed that there was a real world beyond the glamour and vision
of our ordinary senses, and sometimes this veil was lifted for a few
seconds. She believed that much of the tradition of mythical creatures
represented solid fact, and that it was possible there were failures of
creation still extant. Again, might there not be races fallen out of
evolution, but retaining as a survival certain powers that to us appear
miraculous. A very gifted being was Miminie Erskine Wemyss, who married
Lord Henry Grosvenor. One of my earliest memories is the thrill her
beauty gave me when first I saw her, as she walked into church, a silver
prayer-book, slung on a silver chain, depending from her arm.