THE STORY OF THE MONK.
A lady named Uniacke, a resident in Bruges, whilst on a visit to my
house in London, met and had a _seance_ with William Eglinton, with
which she was so delighted that she immediately invited him to go and
stay with her abroad, and as my husband and I were about to cross over
to Bruges to see my sister, who also resided there, we travelled in
company--Mr. Eglinton living at Mrs. Uniacke's home, whilst we stayed
with our own relations. Mrs. Uniacke was a medium herself, and had
already experienced some very noisy and violent demonstrations in her
own house. She was, therefore, quite prepared for her visitor, and had
fitted up a spare room with a cabinet and blinds to the windows, and
everything that was necessary. But, somewhat to her chagrin, we were
informed at the first sitting by Mr. Eglinton's control, "Joey," that
all future _seances_ were to take place at my sister's house instead. We
were given no reason for the change; we were simply told to obey it. My
sister's house was rather a peculiar one, and I have already alluded to
it, and some of the sights and sounds by which it was haunted, in the
chapter headed "Optical Illusions." The building is so ancient that the
original date has been completely lost. A stone set into one of the
walls bore an inscription to the effect that it was restored in the year
1616. And an obsolete plan of the city shows it to have stood in its
present condition in 1562. Prior to that period, however, probably about
the thirteenth century, it is supposed, with three houses on either side
of it, to have formed a convent, but no printed record remains of the
fact. Beneath it are subterraneous passages, choked with rubbish, which
lead, no one knows whither. I had stayed in this house several times
before, and always felt unpleasant influences from it, as I have
related, especially in a large room on the lower floor, then used as a
drawing-room, but which is said to have formed, originally, the chapel
to the convent. Others had felt the influence beside myself, though we
never had had reason to suppose that there was any particular cause for
it. When we expressed curiosity, however, to learn why "Joey" desired us
to hold our _seance_ in my sister's house, he told us that the medium
had not been brought over to Bruges for _our_ pleasure or edification,
but that there was a great work to be done there, and Mrs. Uniacke had
been expressly influenced to invite him over, that the purposes of a
higher power than his own should be accomplished. Consequently, on the
following evening Mrs. Uniacke brought Mr. Eglinton over to my sister's
house, and "Joey" having been asked to choose a room for the sitting,
selected an _entresol_ on the upper floor, which led by two short
passages to the bedrooms. The bedroom doors being locked a dark curtain
was hung at the entrance of one of these passages, and "Joey" declared
it was a first-rate cabinet. We then assembled in the drawing-room, for
the purposes of music and conversation, for we intended to hold the
_seance_ later in the evening. The party consisted only of the medium,
Mrs. Uniacke, my sister, my husband, and myself. After I had sung a song
or two, Mr. Eglinton became restless and moved away from the piano,
saying the influence was too strong for him. He began walking up and
down the room, and staring fixedly at the door, before which hung a
_portiere_. Several times he exclaimed with knitted brows, "What is the
matter with that door? There is something very peculiar about it." Once
he approached it quickly, but "Joey's" voice was heard from behind the
_portiere_, saying, "Don't come too near." Mr. Eglinton then retreated
to a sofa, and appeared to be fighting violently with some unpleasant
influence. He made the sign of the cross, then extended his fingers
towards the door, as though to exorcise it: finally he burst into a
mocking, scornful peal of laughter that lasted for some minutes. As it
concluded, a diabolical expression came over his face. He clenched his
hands, gnashed his teeth, and commenced to grope in a crouching position
towards the door. We concluded he wished to get up to the room where the
cabinet was, and let him have his way. He crawled, rather than walked,
up the steep turret stairs, but on reaching the top, came to himself
suddenly and fell back several steps. My husband, fortunately, was just
behind him and saved him from a fall. He complained greatly of the
influence and of a pain in his head, and we sat at the table to receive
directions. In a few seconds the same spirit had taken possession of
him. He left the table and groped his way towards the bedrooms,
listening apparently to every sound, and with his hand holding an
imaginary knife which was raised every now and then as if to strike. The
expression on Mr. Eglinton's face during this possession is too horrible
to describe. The worst passions were written as legibly there as though
they had been labelled. There was a short flight of stairs leading from
the _entresol_ to the corridor, closed at the head by a padded door,
which we had locked for fear of accident. When, apparently in pursuit of
his object, the spirit led the medium up to this door and he found it
fastened, his moans were terrible. Half-a-dozen times he made his weary
round of the room, striving to get downstairs to accomplish some end,
and to return to us moaning and baffled. At this juncture, he was so
exhausted that one of his controls, "Daisy," took possession of him and
talked with us for some time. We asked "Daisy" what the spirit was like
that had controlled Mr. Eglinton last, and she said she did not like
him--he had a bad face, no hair on the top of his head, and a long black
frock. From this we concluded he had been a monk or a priest. When
"Daisy" had finished speaking to us "Joey" desired Mr. Eglinton to go
into the cabinet; but as soon as he rose, the same spirit got possession
again and led him grovelling as before towards the bedrooms. His
"guides" therefore carried him into the cabinet before our eyes. He was
elevated far above our heads, his feet touching each of us in turn; he
was then carried past the unshaded window, which enabled us to judge of
the height he was from the ground, and finally over a large table, into
the cabinet.
Nothing, however, of consequence occurred, and "Joey" advised us to take
the medium downstairs to the supper room.
Accordingly we adjourned there, and during supper Mr. Eglinton appeared
to be quite himself, and laughed with us over what had taken place. As
soon as the meal was over, however, the old restlessness returned on
him, and he began pacing up and down the room, walking out every now and
then into the corridor. In a few minutes we perceived that the uneasy
spirit again controlled him, and we all followed. He went steadily
towards the drawing-room, but, on finding himself pursued, turned back,
and three times pronounced emphatically the word "Go." He then entered
the drawing-room, which was in darkness, and closed the door behind him,
whilst we waited outside. In a little while he reopened it, and speaking
in quite a different voice, said "Bring a light! I have something to say
to you." When we reassembled with a lamp we found the medium controlled
by a new spirit, whom "Joey" afterwards told us was one of his highest
guides. Motioning us to be seated, he stood before us and said, "I have
been selected from amongst the controls of this medium to tell you the
history of the unhappy being who has so disturbed you this evening. He
is present now, and the confession of his crime through my lips will
help him to throw off the earthbound condition to which it has condemned
him. Many years ago, the house in which we now stand was a convent, and
underneath it were four subterraneous passages running north, south,
east, and west, which communicated with all parts of the town. (I must
here state that Mr. Eglinton had not previously been informed of any
particulars relating to the former history of my sister's home, neither
were Mrs. Uniacke or myself acquainted with it.)
"In this convent there lived a most beautiful woman--a nun, and in one
of the neighboring monasteries a priest who, against the strict law of
his Church, had conceived and nourished a passion for her. He was an
Italian who had been obliged to leave his own country, for reasons best
known to himself, and nightly he would steal his way to this house, by
means of one of the subterraneous passages, and attempt to overcome the
nun's scruples, and make her listen to his tale of love; but she, strong
in the faith, resisted him. At last, maddened one day by her repeated
refusals, and his own guilty passion, he hid himself in one of the
northern rooms in the upper story of this house, and watched there in
the dark for her to pass him on her way from her devotions in the
chapel; but she did not come. Then he crept downstairs stealthily, with
a dagger hid beneath his robes, and met her in the hall. He conjured her
again to yield to him, but again she resisted, and he stabbed her within
the door on the very spot where the medium first perceived him. Her
pure soul sought immediate consolation in the spirit spheres, but his
has been chained down ever since to the scene of his awful crime. He
dragged her body down the secret stairs (which are still existent) to
the vaults beneath, and hid it in the subterraneous passage.
"After a few days he sought it again, and buried it. He lived many years
after, and committed many other crimes, though none so foul as this. It
is his unhappy spirit that asks your prayers to help it to progress. It
is for this purpose that we were brought to this city, that we might aid
in releasing the miserable soul that cannot rest."
I asked, "By what name shall we pray for him?"
"Pray for 'the distressed Being.' Call him by no other name."
"What is your own name?"
"I prefer to be unknown. May God bless you all and keep you in the way
of prayer and truth and from all evil courses, and bring you to
everlasting life. Amen."
The medium then walked up to the spot he had indicated as the scene of
the murder, and knelt there for some minutes in prayer.
Thus concluded the first _seance_ at which the monk was introduced to
us. But the next day as I sat at the table with my sister only, the name
of "Hortense Dupont" was given us, and the following conversation was
rapped out.
"Who are you?"
"I am the nun. I did love him. I couldn't help it. It is such a relief
to think that he will be prayed for."
"When did he murder you?"
"In 1498."
"What was his name?"
"I cannot tell you."
"His age."
"Thirty-five!"
"And yours."
"Twenty-three."
"Are you coming to see us to-morrow?"
"I am not sure."
On that evening, by "Joey's" orders, we assembled at seven. Mr. Eglinton
did not feel the influence in the drawing-room that day, but directly he
entered the _seance_ room, he was possessed by the same spirit. His
actions were still more graphic than on the first occasion. He watched
from the window for the coming of his victim through the courtyard, and
then recommenced his crawling stealthy pursuit, coming back each time
from the locked door that barred his egress with such heart-rending
moans that no one could have listened to him unmoved. At last, his agony
was so great, as he strove again and again, like some dumb animal, to
pass through the walls that divided him from the spot he wished to
visit, whilst the perspiration streamed down the medium's face with the
struggle, that we attempted to make him speak to us. We implored him in
French to tell us his trouble, and believe us to be his friends; but he
only pushed us away. At last we were impressed to pray for him, and
kneeling down, we repeated all the well-known Catholic prayers. As we
commenced the "De Profundis" the medium fell prostrate on the earth, and
seemed to wrestle with his agony. At the "Salve Regina" and "Ave Maria"
he lifted his eyes to heaven and clasped his hands, and in the "Pater
Noster" he appeared to join. But directly we ceased praying the evil
passions returned, and his face became distorted in the thirst for
blood. It was an experience that no one who had seen could ever forget.
At last my sister fetched a crucifix, which we placed upon his breast.
It had not been there many seconds before a different expression came
over his face. He seized it in both hands, straining it to his eyes,
lips, and heart, holding it from him at arm's length, then passionately
kissing it, as we repeated the "Anima Christi." Finally, he held the
crucifix out for each of us to kiss; a beautiful smile broke out on the
medium's face, and the spirit passed out of him.
Mr. Eglinton awoke on that occasion terribly exhausted. His face was as
white as a sheet, and he trembled violently. His first words were: "They
are doing something to my forehead. Burn a piece of paper, and give me
the ashes." He rubbed them between his eyes, when the sign of the cross
became distinctly visible, drawn in deep red lines upon his forehead.
The controls then said, exhausted as Mr. Eglinton was, we were to place
him in the cabinet, as their work was not yet done. He was accordingly
led in trance to the arm-chair behind the curtain, whilst we formed a
circle in front of him. In a few seconds the cabinet was illuminated,
and a cross of fire appeared outside of it. This manifestation having
been seen twice, the head and shoulders of a nun appeared floating
outside the curtain. Her white coif and "chin-piece" were pinned just as
the "_religieuses_" are in the habit of pinning them, and she seemed
very anxious to show herself, coming close to each of us in turn, and
re-appearing several times. Her face was that of a young and pretty
woman. "Joey" said, "That's the nun, but you'll understand that this is
only a preliminary trial, preparatory to a more perfect
materialization." I asked the apparition if she were the "Hortense
Dupont" that had communicated through me, and she nodded her head
several times in acquiescence. Thus ended our second _seance_ with the
Monk of Bruges.
On the third day we were all sitting at supper in my sister's house at
about ten o'clock at night, when loud raps were heard about the room,
and on giving the alphabet, "Joey" desired us to go upstairs and sit,
and to have the door at the head of the staircase (which we had hitherto
locked for fear of accidents) left open; which we accordingly did. As
soon as we were seated at the table, the medium became entranced, and
the same pantomime which I have related was gone through. He watched
from the window that looked into the courtyard, and silently groped his
way round the room, until he had crawled on his stomach up the stairs
that led to the padded door. When he found, however, that the obstacle
that had hitherto stood in his way was removed (by its being open) he
drew a long breath and started away for the winding turret staircase,
listening at the doors he passed to find out if he were overheard. When
he came to the stairs, in descending which we had been so afraid he
might hurt himself, he was carried down them in the most wonderful
manner, only placing his hand on the balustrades, and swooping to the
bottom in one flight. We had placed a lamp in the hall, so that as we
followed him we could observe all his actions. When he reached the
bottom of the staircase he crawled on his stomach to the door of the
drawing-room (originally the chapel) and there waited and listened,
darting back into the shadow every time he fancied he heard a sound.
Imagine our little party of four in that sombre old house, the only
ones waking at that time of night, watching by the ghastly light of a
turned-down lamp the acting of that terrible tragedy. We held our breath
as the murderer crouched by the chapel door, opening it noiselessly to
peep within, and then, retreating with his imaginary dagger in his hand,
ready to strike as soon as his victim appeared. At last she seemed to
come. In an instant he had sprung to meet her, stabbing her first in a
half-stooping attitude, and then, apparently, finding her not dead, he
rose to his full height and stabbed her twice, straight downwards. For a
moment he seemed paralyzed at what he had done, starting back with both
hands clasped to his forehead. Then he flung himself prostrate on the
supposed body, kissing the ground frantically in all directions.
Presently he woke to the fear of detection, and raised the corpse
suddenly in his arms. He fell once beneath the supposed weight, but
staggering to his feet again, seized and dragged it, slipping on the
stone floor as he went, to the head of the staircase that led to the
cellars below, where the mouth of one of the subterraneous passages was
still to be seen. The door at the head of this flight was modern, and he
could not undo the lock, so, prevented from dragging the body down the
steps, he cast himself again upon it, kissing the stone floor of the
hall and moaning. At last he dragged himself on his knees to the spot of
the murder, and began to pray. We knelt with him, and as he heard our
voices he turned on his knees towards us with outstretched hands. I
suggested that he wanted the crucifix again, and went upstairs to fetch
it, when the medium followed me. When I had found what I sought, he
seized it from me eagerly, and carrying it to the window, whence he had
so often watched, fell down again upon his knees. After praying for some
time he tried to speak to us. His lips moved and his tongue protruded,
but he was unable to articulate. Suddenly he seized each of our hands in
turn in both of his own, and wrung them violently. He tried to bless us,
but the words would not come. The same beautiful smile we had seen the
night before broke out over his countenance, the crucifix dropped from
his hands, and he fell prostrate on the floor. The next moment Mr.
Eglinton was asking us where he was and what on earth had happened to
him, as he felt so queer. He declared himself fearfully exhausted, but
said he felt that a great calm and peace had come over him
notwithstanding the weakness, and he believed some great good had been
accomplished. He was not again entranced, but "Joey" ordered the light
to be put out, and spoke to us in the direct voice as follows:--
"I've just come to tell you what I know you will be very glad to hear,
that through the medium's power, and our power, and the great power of
God, the unhappy spirit who has been confessing his crime to you is
freed to-night from the heaviest part of his burden--the being
earth-chained to the spot. I don't mean to say that he will go away at
once to the spheres, because he's got a lot to do still to alter the
conditions under which he labors, but the worst is over. This was the
special work Mr. Eglinton was brought to Bruges to do, and Ernest and I
can truly say that, during the whole course of our control of him, we
have never had to put forth our own powers, nor to ask so earnestly for
the help of God, as in the last three days. You have all helped in a
good work,--to free a poor soul from earth, and to set him on the right
road, and _we_ are grateful to you and to the medium, as well as he. He
will be able to progress rapidly now until he reaches his proper sphere,
and hereafter the spirits of himself and the woman he murdered will work
together to undo for others the harm they brought upon themselves. She
is rejoicing in her high sphere at the work we have done for him, and
will be the first to help and welcome him upward. There are many more
earth-bound spirits in this house and the surrounding houses who are
suffering as he was, though not to the same extent, nor for the same
reason. But they all ask for and need your help and your prayers, and
this is the greatest and noblest end of Spiritualism--to aid poor,
unhappy spirits to free themselves from earth and progress upwards.
After a while when this spirit can control the medium with calmness, he
will come himself and tell you, through him, all his history and how he
came to fall. Meanwhile, we thank you very much for allowing us to draw
so much strength from you and helping us with your sympathy, and I hope
you will believe me always to remain, your loving friend, Joey."
* * * * *
This account, with very little alteration, was published in the
_Spiritualist_ newspaper, August 29th, 1879, when the _seances_ had
just occurred. There is a sequel to the story, however, which is almost
as remarkable as itself, and which has not appeared in print till now.
From Bruges on this occasion my husband and I went to Brussels, where we
diverted ourselves by means very dissimilar to anything so grave as
Spiritualism. There were many sales going on in Brussels at that moment,
and one of our amusements was to make a tour of the salerooms and
inspect the articles put up for competition. During one of these visits
I was much taken by a large oil pointing, in a massive frame, measuring
some six or seven feet square. It represented a man in the dress of a
Franciscan monk--_i.e._, a brown serge robe, knotted with cords about
the waist--kneeling in prayer with outstretched hands upon a mass of
burning embers. It was labelled in the catalogue as the picture of a
Spanish monk of the order of Saint Francis Xavier, and was evidently a
painting of some value. I was drawn to go and look at it several days in
succession before the sale, and I told my husband that I coveted its
possession. He laughed at me and said it would fetch a great deal more
money than we could afford to give for it, in which opinion I
acquiesced. The day of the sale, however, found us in our places to
watch the proceedings, and when the picture of the monk was put up I bid
a small sum for it. Col. Lean looked at me in astonishment, but I
whispered to him that I was only in fun, and I should stop at a hundred
francs. The bidding was very languid, however, and to my utter
amazement, the picture was knocked down to me for _seventy-two francs_.
I could hardly believe that it was true. Directly the sale was
concluded, the brokers crowded round me to ask what I would take for the
painting, and they told me they had not thought of bidding until it
should have reached a few hundred francs. But I told them I had got my
bargain, and I meant to stick by it. When we returned next day to make
arrangements for its being sent to us, the auctioneer informed us that
the frame alone in which it had been sent for sale had cost three
hundred francs, so that I was well satisfied with my purchase. This
occurrence took place a short time before we returned to England, where
we arrived long before the painting, which, with many others, was left
to follow us by a cheaper and slower route.
The Sunday after we reached home (having seen no friends in the
meanwhile), we walked into Steinway Hall to hear Mr. Fletcher's
lecture. At its conclusion he passed as usual into a state of trance,
and described what he saw before him. In the midst of mentioning people,
places, and incidents unknown to us, he suddenly exclaimed: "Now I see a
very strange thing, totally unlike anything I have ever seen before, and
I hardly know how to describe it. A man comes before me--a
foreigner--and in a dress belonging to some monastic order, a brown robe
of coarse cloth or flannel, with a rope round his waist and beads
hanging, and bare feet and a shaved head. He is dragging a picture on to
the platform, a very large painting in a frame, and it looks to me like
a portrait of himself, kneeling on a carpet of burning wood. No! I am
wrong. The man tells me the picture is _not_ a portrait of himself, but
of the founder of his Order, and it is in the possession of some people
in this hall to-night. The man tells me to tell these people that it was
_his_ spirit that influenced them to buy this painting at some place
over the water, and he did so in order that they might keep it in
remembrance of what they have done for him. And he desires that they
shall hang that picture in some room where they may see it every day,
that they may never forget the help which spirits on this earth may
render by their prayers to spirits that have passed away. And he offers
them through me his heartfelt thanks for the assistance given him, and
he says the day is not far off when he shall pray for himself and for
them, that their kindness may return into their own bosoms."
* * * * *
The oil painting reached England in safety some weeks afterwards, and
was hung over the mantel-piece in our dining-room, where it remained, a
familiar object to all our personal acquaintances.