PART IV.

VI. SUGGESTIONS AND HYPOTHESES 143

PART I.

GHOSTLY PHENOMENA

CHAPTER I.

"ELEMENTALS."

I have, from time to time, witnessed many manifestations which I believe

to have been superphysical, both from the peculiarity of their

properties, and from the effects their presence invariably produced on

me--an effect I cannot associate with anything physical.

One of the first occult phenomena I remember, appeared to me when I

was about five years of age. I was then living in a town in the West

of England, and had, according to the usual custom, been put to bed at

six o'clock. I had spent a very happy day, playing with my favourite

toys--soldiers--and not being in the least degree tired, was amusing

myself with planning a fresh campaign for the following morning, when

I suddenly noticed that the bedroom door (which I distinctly

remembered my nurse carefully latching) was slowly opening. Thinking

this was very curious, but without the slightest suspicion of ghosts,

I sat up in the bed and watched.

The door continued to open, and at last I caught sight of something so

extraordinary that my guilty conscience at once associated it with the

Devil, with regard to whom I distinctly recollected to have spoken that

afternoon in a sceptical, and I frankly admit, very disrespectful

manner. But far from feeling the proximity of that heat which all those

who profess authority on Satanic matters ascribe to Satan, I felt

decidedly cold--so cold, indeed, that my hands grew numb and my teeth

chattered. At first I only saw two light, glittering eyes that fixed

themselves on me with an expression of diabolical glee, but I was soon

able to perceive that they were set in a huge, flat face, covered with

fulsome-looking yellow spots about the size of a threepenny bit. I do

not remember noticing any of the other features, save the mouth, which

was large and gaping. The body to which the head was attached was quite

nude, and covered all over with spots similar to those on the face. I

cannot recall any arms, though I have vivid recollections of two thick

and, to all appearances, jointless legs, by the use of which it left

the doorway, and, gliding noiselessly over the carpet, approached an

empty bed, placed in a parallel position to my own. There it halted, and

thrusting its misshapen head forward, it fixed its malevolent eyes on me

with a penetrating stare. On this occasion, I was far less frightened

than on any of my subsequent experiences with the occult. Why, I cannot

say, for the manifestation was certainly one of the most hideous I have

ever seen. My curiosity, however, was far greater than my fear, and I

kept asking myself what the Thing was, and why it was there?

It did not seem to me to be composed of ordinary flesh and blood,

but rather of some luminous matter that resembled the light

emanating from a glow-worm.

After remaining in the same attitude for what seemed to me an

incalculably long time, it gradually receded, and assuming, all of a

sudden, a horizontal attitude, passed head first through the wall

opposite to where I sat. Next day, I made a sketch of the apparition,

and showed it to my relatives, who, of course, told me I had been

dreaming. About two weeks later I was ill in bed with a painful, if not

actually dangerous, disease. I was giving an account of this

manifestation at a lecture I delivered two or three years ago in B., and

when I had finished speaking was called aside by one of my audience who

very shyly told me that he, too, had had a similar experience. Prior to

being attacked by diphtheria, he had seen a queer-looking apparition

that had approached his bedside and leaned over him. He assured me that

he had been fully awake at the time, and had applied tests to prove that

the phenomenon was entirely objective.

A number of other cases, too, have been reported to me, in which various

species of phantasms have been seen before different illnesses. Hence I

believe that certain spirits are symbolical of certain diseases, if not

the actual creators of the bacilli from which those diseases arise. To

these phantasms I have given the name of Morbas. I have seen two other

morbas in addition to the one I have already described. The first case

happened to me when I was in Dublin, reading for the Royal Irish

Constabulary at the then well-known Queen's Service Academy, Ely Place.

I lodged in Merrion Street, and above my rooms were those of a Mr.

Charles Clifford, at that time a briefless barrister, but who afterwards

established a big reputation in the West Indies, where he eventually

died. I became very friendly with Mr. Clifford, whose father had been a

contemporary with several of my relations--also barristers--at Trinity

College. One particularly mild evening,--if I remember rightly it was in

the beginning of September--I was chatting away with him in his

sitting-room, when he suddenly complained of feeling extremely cold, and

asked me if I would mind shutting the window, as I was nearest to it. As

I got up in order to carry out his wishes, I noticed that the curtain on

the near side of the recess (it was a bay window) was rustling in a very

peculiar manner, and I was just going to call my friend's attention to

it when I perceived the most odd-looking, yellow hand suddenly emerge

from the drapery. Sick with fear, but urged on by a curiosity I could

not restrain, I approached the curtain, and, pulling it aside

vigorously, found myself confronted by the tall, nude, yellow figure of

something utterly indefinable. It seemed to me to be wholly composed of

some vibrating, luminous matter. Its head was large and round, its eyes

light green, oblique and full of intense hatred. I did not notice any

other features. Its awful expression of malignity so fascinated me that

I could not remove my gaze from its face, and I was standing still and

staring at it helplessly, unable to move or speak, when Clifford asked

what in the world was the matter. The moment he spoke the phenomenon

vanished, and the spell which its appearance had cast over me being thus

broken, I shut the window and returned to my seat.

I did not mention what I had seen to Clifford, as he was of an extremely

nervous temperament, and, like the majority of Irishmen, very

superstitious. I made, however, a note of the occurrence in my diary,

and was not surprised when, eight or nine days later, Clifford was ill

in bed with a malignant disease.

The second instance happened when I was on tour with No. 1 Company of

"The Only Way." We were performing in Plymouth, and I was sharing rooms

with an actor of the name of Cornelius, who had lately joined us from a

Dramatic School in Oxford Street. Saturday night, as every one in the

profession knows, is the most tiring night in the week, for apart from

there being a matinée that day, there is packing to be done after the

evening performance, and one rarely, if ever, leaves the theatre before

half-past twelve or one o'clock. On the Saturday night I am about to

speak of, Cornelius, who did not appear in the last act, had gone home

before me, and on my leaving the theatre an hour or so later, I found

the streets in the vicinity of our lodgings silent and deserted. I was

hastening along, thinking, I admit, of the good things that awaited us

at supper, for Cornelius, who arranged the meals, was an excellent

caterer, when, just as I was turning in at our gate, I saw a tall figure

come out of the house and approach me with a peculiar, gliding motion. A

cold terror at once ran through me, for I instinctively felt that the

figure was nothing human. Overcoming, with a desperate effort, a sudden

sensation of helplessness, I moved aside, and, as I did so, the figure

halted; I then perceived that it was exactly like the yellow phantasm I

had seen in Dublin some nine or ten years previously. It remained

stationary for, perhaps, forty seconds, when it seemed to dissolve into

the mist. I then pushed open the gate and entered the house. I made a

note of the vision, and learned some few weeks later that an actor, who

was then in the rooms we had occupied, had fallen a victim there to the

same malady that had attacked Clifford.

From the numerous cases that have been related to me, as well as from my

own experience, I have come to the conclusion that certain species of

phantasms prefer to appear to children, and only under exceptional

circumstances manifest themselves to adults.

One of these species bears a slight resemblance to Pixies, inasmuch as

they are exceedingly diminutive; but there the likeness ends. For

whereas Pixies, from most of the statements I have heard regarding them,

are an intelligent race of fairies that prefer places remote from the

haunts of men, these phantasms do not seem to possess any intelligence

or feeling at all, and are frequently to be seen in houses occupied by

living people. Their visits, apparently, have no object--they are merely

forms consisting of matter without mind. Night after night, when I was a

little boy, I used to lie awake watching half a dozen or so of these

tiny phantasms moving about the floor or turning round and round on the

top of a wardrobe that faced the bed. In appearance they were more or

less like men--never women--but always grotesque, with big heads, long

beards, and something odd in the shape of their limbs and bodies. Their

faces were uniformly white, and utterly devoid of expression. I was

never in the least degree afraid of them, but often felt very much

annoyed because they did not do anything sensible. On the slightest

sound or movement on my part they instantly vanished, and would not

appear again till the following evening.

I daresay some writers on Occultism would classify them with Nature

Spirits, but I prefer to designate them a species of the genus

"Elemental"--that is to say, a species of the phantasm that has never

inhabited any kind of earthly body.

One afternoon in May, many years ago,--I was a very young child at the

time,--I happened to be staying with some friends in the country, and on

running to the nursery window to look at what I thought was one of the

household behaving in a very odd manner in the garden, I perceived to my

astonishment the figure of a woman with a long beard, rolling about on

the lawn as if in great agony.

There was something so odd, both in her appearance and actions, that I

was too fascinated to remove my gaze from her, and in breathless silence

watched her slowly rise up and approach the window. I then saw that her

face was hardly like that of a human being, but resembled rather some

very grotesque kind of animal, and that her fingers, which she kept

opening and shutting, were short and webbed. She did not impress me as

being either horrible or malignant, and I was noticing, with the keenest

interest, the peculiarities of her formation when one of the servants

entered the nursery, and she instantly vanished.

How to classify this phenomenon, I must confess I am somewhat puzzled.

It does not appear to me to belong altogether to the order of Vagrarian,

and yet I know of no other species of phantasm to which it is more

nearly allied. This type of ghost, _i.e._, the Vagrarian, is very often

seen by children. It is a species of Elemental, and is in my opinion a

survival (or descendant) of the earliest attempts at life on this

planet--possibly an experiment in forms of life half physical, half

superphysical--prior to the creation and selection of animal and

vegetable life as it is known to us.

In addition to the power of materialising and dematerialising at will,

Vagrarians can, at times, exercise a certain amount of physical force. I

have heard of them, for example, moving furniture, banging on doors and

walls, and making all sorts of similar disturbances. I have used the

expression, "or descendants," with regard them because I think it is

quite feasible that Vagrarians are mortal, and that they possess some

especial means of generating.

They are generally to be met within lonely places--country lanes and

spinneys, empty houses, isolated barns, and on moors, commons, and

hill-tops. In appearance they are caricatures of man and

beast--sometimes compounds of both--and would seem to possess a great

diversity of form. I have, for example, had them described to me as

tall, thin figures with tiny, rotund, or flat, rectangular, or wholly

animal heads, and again as short, squat figures with a similar variety

of heads. They are probably the most terrifying of all apparitions, as,

apart from the grotesqueness of their bodies, the expression in their

eyes is invariably diabolical; they seem, indeed, to be animated with an

intense, an absolutely unlimited, animosity to every form of earthly

life. Why, I cannot, of course, say, unless it is that they are jealous

of both man and beast, whom they might possibly regard as the usurpers

of a sphere which was at one time strictly confined to themselves. My

first experience of this kind of phantasm occurred when I was a boy. I

was staying with some friends in a large old country house in the

Midlands, and being, even at that early age, fond of adventure, I

frequently used to wander off alone in order to explore the adjacent

neighbourhood. On one of these peregrinations I arrived at a farm which,

for some reason or other, happened just then to be untenanted. Delighted

at the prospect of examining the empty buildings, I scaled a gate, and,

crossing a paved yard, entered a large barn. The sight of one or two

rats scurrying away at my approach made me wish I had my friend's

terrier with me, and I was turning to look for a stone or some missile

to throw at them, when a noise in the far corner of the building

attracted my attention. It was now twilight, and the only windows in the

place being small, dirty, and high from the ground, the further

extremities of the barn were bathed in gloom, and in a gloom that made

me feel nervous. Following the direction of the sound, I looked and saw

to my inconceivable horror a tall, luminous something with a white

rectangular head, crouching on the floor. As its long, glittering, evil

eyes met mine it sprang up (I then perceived that it was fully seven

feet high and perfectly nude), and, with its spidery arms poised high in

the air, darted forward. Shrieking at the top of my voice, I flew, and

my wild cries for help being overheard by some of my friends, who

chanced to be returning home that way, they at once came to my

assistance. I shall never forget their faces, for I am sure my cries

frightened them almost as much as the apparition had frightened me. To

assure me it must have been my imagination, they searched the building,

and, of course, saw nothing, as the phantasm had, doubtless,

dematerialised. I made enquiries, however, on the quiet about the farm,

and learned that it had always borne the reputation for being haunted,

and that it was on that account that it was then untenanted. Needless to

say, I never ventured there again alone!

When I was in Dublin in 1892, I stayed for a while at a boarding-house

in Leeson Street. The house, which was large and gloomy, impressed me

from the very first with a sense of loneliness, and I intuitively felt

that all its denizens were not of flesh and blood. I occupied a bedroom

on the first floor, on which at the time of my visit there were only two

other people, both of whom slept in rooms opposite to mine, on the other

side of the landing. The shape of my room was rendered somewhat peculiar

owing to the deep window recess on the one side, and the still deeper

alcove, in which my bed stood, on the other. In the twilight, whilst

the former of these recesses was filled with the weirdest shadows

imaginable, the latter was so bathed in gloom as to be hardly

discernible at all. The furniture, which reflected the past glories of

the proprietress, who, like so many people in that position in Dublin,

belonged to an at one time wealthy family of landed proprietors,

consisted of a massive mahogany four-poster, handsomely carved and

draped in faded yellow tapestry, a huge, mahogany wardrobe, an ottoman,

covered with tapestry, adorned at irregular intervals with the most

grotesque arabesque figures; a bog-oak chest, richly carved and always

kept locked; two antique, big, oaken chairs, and several rather damaged

and painfully modern cane-bottomed ones; a threadbare carpet that might

have been a Brussels, and just the necessary amount of ordinary bedroom

articles, several of which were very much the worse for wear.

I never liked the room, for, apart from its habitual darkness--a

darkness that seemed to me to be quite independent of the

daylight--there was in it an atmosphere of intense oppression, an

oppression that seemed to arise solely and wholly from an evil

influence. Night after night my sleep was disturbed by the most

harrowing dreams, from which I invariably awoke with a start to find

my heart beating violently, and my body bathed in perspiration. Those

sort of dreams were quite unusual to me; indeed, I had seldom had them

since I was a child; they certainly could not be in any way accounted

for by my state of health, which was quite normal, nor by my food,

which was of the simplest and most digestive nature. Though ashamed to

admit it, I at last grew to dread going to bed on account of those

dreams, and I accordingly requested the proprietress of the

establishment to give me another room. This she somewhat reluctantly

promised to do the following day. Overjoyed at the prospect of so

speedy a deliverance from a room I so cordially feared and detested, I

went to bed that night with a comparatively light heart, assuring

myself gleefully that it would be the last time I should sleep there. I

can remember even now my thoughts as I undressed. What an inadequate

light my candle gave as I placed it on the chimney-piece, and watched

its feeble, flickering flame vainly trying to dissipate the heavy folds

of darkness that seemed to roll in on me from the surrounding nooks and

crannies with unprecedented intensity! How unusually bright the surface

of the mirror looked, and with what remarkable clearness it reflected

the bog-oak chest! The bog-oak chest! I could not remove my eyes from

it, and as I stared at its image in the glass, I saw to my horror the

long-locked, heavy cover slowly begin to rise. Gradually, very

gradually, it opened, until I fancied I could detect something grey and

evil peering out at me. My terror was now so great that I dare not turn

round to look at the actual chest, but was compelled by an irresistible

fascination to keep my attention riveted on the mirror, upon the

surface of which there suddenly fell a dark and fantastically shaped

shadow that, apparently proceeding from the chest, moved stealthily

towards my bed, and disappeared in the innermost recesses of the

dimly-lighted alcove. I was so unnerved by this incident that it was

only after a series of severe mental efforts that I could persuade

myself to make a thorough examination of the room, and so satisfy

myself that what I had seen was in all probability the result of my

imagination. With timid footsteps I first of all approached the

chest--it was still locked. I then advanced more complacently to the

bed, and, falling on my hands and knees, peered under it--there was

nothing to be seen! Endeavouring to persuade myself now that there were

absolutely no grounds for fear, and that mere shadows--for whichever

way I turned, the room was full of them--could do me no harm, I

undressed, and, blowing out the candle, got into bed. Having spent the

day fishing off the Mugglestone Rocks, near Dalkey (in company with two

of my fellow students at the Queen's Service Academy), I felt healthily

tired, and, after a few preliminary turns and twists to get into a

comfortable position, was soon fast asleep. I awoke with a violent

start, just as the clock on the landing outside solemnly struck two.

The house was wrapped in complete silence, and, beyond a few occasional

creakings on the stairs and in--so I fancied--the recess of the window,

I could hear nothing. The sky, which had been covered with a thick

coating of grey mist all the day, had cleared, and a silvery stream of

moonlight, pouring in through the open window, flooded that side of the

room on which stood the bog-oak chest. Again my eyes involuntarily

wandered to the mirror, which was exactly opposite to where I lay, and

again, with even greater horror than before, I watched the lid of the

chest slowly begin to rise. Wider and wider it opened, until, with a

faint click, it fell back on its hinges and struck the wall. I then

saw a tall, grey shape climb out of it, and, with a snake-like movement

of its long limbs, advance silently towards me. Though it was in the

full glare of the moonbeams, I cannot say definitely what it was like,

saving that it impressed me with a strong sense of its utter

grotesqueness, a grotesqueness that at once pronounced it a Vagrarian.

Paralysed with terror, and unable to move or utter a sound, I was

constrained to sit bolt upright and await its approach. Though I could

see no distinct eyes, I felt they were there, and that they were fixed

on me all the time with insatiable glee and malice. Nearer and nearer

it drew, until, gliding round the foot of the bed, it passed along by

me, accompanied by a current of icy cold air that made every tooth in

my head chatter. I then became conscious of some powerful magnetic

force drawing me backwards, and as I sank gasping and panting on the

pillow, a hideous, nude form rose quivering over me, and I lost

consciousness. When I regained my senses the greyness of dawn was

struggling for mastery with the moonbeams, and the Vagrarian had

gone. That night, as I passed the door of the now vacated room on

the way to my new and somewhat brighter quarters, I heard a soft

chuckle proceeding, as I felt certain, from the bog-oak chest--but

I did not stop to investigate.

Oddly enough, that same year I had another experience of a similar

nature, whilst staying with some relatives of mine in a town many

miles remote from Dublin.

My bedroom on this occasion, however, was a cheerful contrast to the one

in which I witnessed the phenomenon in Dublin, and from the fact that

the colour of its wallpaper, carpet, curtains, bed-hangings, and

furniture was emerald, was appropriately termed the Green Room. Its

windows, large and low down, overlooked a garden that had been at one

time, so I was told, a morass, and this garden, which was even now, at

certain seasons of the year, excessively damp, was, in my opinion, the

only drawback to an otherwise charming place. The first time I saw it,

which was in my early childhood, I felt a cold, apprehensive chill steal

over me, nor did I, subsequently, ever pass by it without experiencing a

sensation of extreme horror and aversion. Consequently, much as I liked

the Green Room itself, I would have infinitely preferred sleeping on the

other side of the house. For the first few nights, however, I slept

well, and the room was so warm and sunny that I was even beginning to

get over my antipathy to its prospect, when I received a rude shock. I

had gone to bed at about eleven o'clock as usual, and, being unable to

sleep, was formulating in my brain plans for the morrow, when I suddenly

felt the bed violently agitated. My first thought was that some one was

playing a practical joke on me, but I quickly pooh-poohed that idea,

since, with the exception of one of the servants, I was by far the

youngest person in the house, and my relatives were much too staid and

sensible even to think of doing such a stupid thing. I next thought of

burglars, and being a great deal younger and, I admit, pluckier than I

am now, I struck a light, and, jumping out of bed, looked under it.

There was nothing there. Greatly relieved, I hastily got into bed again,

and, blowing out the candle, lay down. For some minutes all was still,

and then the foot of the bed rose several inches from the ground, and,

falling down with a dull crash, was shaken furiously. I was now very

much frightened, for I knew the disturbance was due to nothing purely

physical. Just at that very moment, too, a strong gust of air blowing in

through the window transported the atmosphere of the garden, and

simultaneously I was seized with a sense of utter loneliness and

despair. Lying back on my pillow, I now perceived the glistening white

figure, quite nude, of what looked like an abnormally tall, thin man,

with a cylindrical-shaped head, crawl from beneath my bed, and, suddenly

assuming an erect position, bound to the window, through which he

vanished to the darkness beyond.

The following day I made some excuse, and returned to Dublin; nor have I

ever slept in the Green Room since. From the general appearance of the

phenomenon, though I did not see its face, I have no hesitation in

saying that it was a Vagrarian, and that the primitive nature of the

garden attracted it thither.

That the famous Irish Banshee, like the Drummer and Pipers of Scotland,

the Death Candles of Wales, and the various English Family Ghosts, is

the work of a species of Elemental, to which I have given the name,

"Clanogrian," I have no doubt. The Celtic word Banshee, meaning the

woman of the barrow, may in all probability account for the popular idea

that whenever a member of one of the old Irish clans dies, their doom is

foretold (to any or every member of the family but themselves) by a

series of wails, in a woman's voice, the phantasm of the woman herself

being sometimes seen. But as a matter of fact there is a great variety

of form in these death-warnings peculiar to the Irish, and each historic

family has its own particular banshee. I have experienced the O'Donnell

Banshee (that Banshee that has ofttimes been heard in Spain, Italy,

France, and Austria, wherever, in fact, a member of the clan lives) on

one occasion. I was living at the seaside at the time, and had been in

bed about an hour, when I heard, as I thought, outside my door, not a

series, but just one wail, which, beginning in a low key, ended withal

in a scream so loud and agonising that my blood froze. Instinctively I

knew it was the Banshee. Scrambling out of bed, I opened the door, and

the moment I did so, several other doors opened, and a troup of

terrified figures, in night attire, came timidly out on to the landing.

One and all had heard the sound, which they, too, recognised as the

Banshee, but we saw nothing. That night a near relative of mine died!

As I have already hinted, our clan is numerous, and as many of its members

are now scattered throughout Europe, it is not often I come in touch with

them. Last year, however, I met one of my kinsmen, who was at that time

M.P. for a London constituency, and in the course of a long conversation

with him, I was interested to hear that on the eve of his father's death

both he and his brother had heard the single wail of the Banshee (just as

I had done) outside the door of the room in which they were sitting. They

both rushed out, as one naturally does on hearing it, but saw nothing.

Their father, it is needless to say, had been quite unconscious of the

Banshee, though he was keenly sensible of every other sound.

I think any one, who is acquainted with the history of Ireland, in which

my clan figures so prominently, will not be at all astonished that I

have been visited by so many psychic phenomena.

The last experience, in connection with Elementals, to which I will allude

here, happened to me some years ago, when I was renting a house in the

extreme West of England. The house, though new--I was the first

occupant--was not only close to a ridge of rocks, where it was alleged

that wreckers used to carry on their nefarious work until quite recently,

but was within walking distance of an ancient Celtic settlement.

Furthermore, from comparatively close at hand, several skeletons, supposed

to belong to the Neolithic Age, had recently been disinterred.

I entered the house with a perfectly unbiassed mind; indeed, the thought

that it might be haunted never for one moment entered my mind. Being at

that time unmarried, I had a housekeeper, who soon complained to me of

heavy, queer noises. Not wishing to lose her, I pooh-poohed the idea of

there being anything wrong with the place, and suggested that the sounds

were produced by the wind. It was a big, oddly-constructed place, full

of long, dark passages and gloomy nooks and cupboards. I occupied a room

on the top landing, separated from my housekeeper's by a

sepulchral-looking corridor. Facing my door was that of a room connected

by means of a low doorway with a big loft, the furthest extremities of

which were totally obscured from view by a perpetual shroud of darkness,

a darkness that the feeble rays of sunlight, filtering through the tiny

skylight in the slanting roof, entirely failed to dissipate. This loft

certainly did suggest the superphysical, and I felt that if any ghostly

presence walked the house, it had its headquarters in that spot.

Still, I heard nothing, nothing beyond the occasional banging of a

door and loud creakings on the staircase. My housekeeper, however,

left me, and her successor, who, to all appearances, was a practical,

matter-of-fact sort of woman, had not been with me many days

before she, too, gave notice.

"I never believed in ghosts till I came here," she told me, "but I am

certain there are such things now. For every night I hear not only the

strangest noises in my room, but the pattering of stealthy footsteps in

the passage--sounds which I feel certain could neither be produced by

rats nor the wind. Indeed, sir, I can't bear being left alone in the

basement of the house after dusk, as I have the feeling that something

uncanny walks about the house."

The housekeeper, who succeeded her, speedily gave notice for precisely

the same reason, and every one, who subsequently slept in the house,

complained that they had the most unpleasant sensations as soon as it

was dark, and heard the most extraordinary and harrowing noises.

One woman, an ex-Salvation Army officer, whom I left in charge of the

house during my temporary absence, told me she had been awakened in the

night by the sounds of shuffling footsteps that had stopped outside her

door, the handle of which was then slowly turned.

"I was awfully frightened," she said, "for I knew at once it was a

devil; but screwing up courage, I sang as loud as my parched throat

would allow me, 'Washed in the blood of the Lamb,' when the evil spirit

ceased its disturbances and I heard the sound of its steps in full

retreat up the staircase."

When the summer season was at its height, the manageress of one of the

adjacent hotels asked me if I would mind letting her have a room for the

night, in my house, as she really did not know where to put all her

visitors; there was no accommodation left for them in the town. I

consented, and the visitor, who happened to be a middle-aged lady, told

my housekeeper the following morning that she was sure the house was

haunted, as she had been awakened about two o'clock from the most

revolting dreams to hear the most curious footsteps--like those of some

big animal--approach her door. She then heard the sound of heavy

breathing, and watched the door handle gradually turn. "I then crossed

myself and prayed with all my might," she said, "when the thing retired,

and I heard its soft footsteps die away in the distance."

One morning, between three and four o'clock, I awoke from a very nasty

dream, in which I had seen a tall figure with a grey, evil face come

bounding up the stairs, three steps at a time, and along the passages

to my bedroom. I was so shocked at the appearance of this thing in my

dreams, that for several minutes after recovering conscious my heart

palpitated violently. I then heard the sound of stealthy footsteps

coming along the passage parallel with my bed. Nearer and nearer they

came, until they halted outside my door, on the top panels of which

there suddenly came a crash so tremendous that every article in the room

quivered. I jumped out of bed, threw open the door, and saw--nothing.

The passage was silent and empty.

The following night, taking various precautions to satisfy myself and

others that the noises were due to superphysical agencies, I covered the

floor of the passage outside my room with alternate layers of chalk,

flour, and sand, fastened wires across it, and blocked it up at one end

with a table, on the edge of which I carefully balanced a bottle of ink.

At the same time in the morning, however, the footsteps again came.

First of all they came to the table, when I distinctly heard the

ink-bottle hurled to the ground with a crash; then, passing through the

wires and over the chalk, flour, and sand, they drew up to my door. Sick

with suspense I awaited the crash, and the moment it came, sprang out

on the landing. There was nothing there, save an almost preternatural

hush and the cold grey of dawn, but the instant I withdrew into my room,

every wall and beam throughout the house shook with Satanical laughter!

I was now so horrified that I never kept vigil in the place again, but

left it shortly afterwards.

I subsequently heard from two entirely independent sources that an

apparition had been seen on the site of the house some years

previously. My first informant, Mrs. T., said: "One night, at about

twelve o'clock, as I was coming home from a party, I saw, just about

the place where your house now stands, the tall figure of a man with a

tiny, rotund head. It seemed to rise out of the ground, and, striding

forward with a slightly swaying motion, vanished over the cliff

exactly opposite your front door. The night being moonlight, I saw the

thing distinctly, and can well recall the horrible expression in its

light, round eyes and leering mouth. It had small, bestial features,

close-cropped hair, and a very grey complexion. Its arms and legs were

abnormally long and thin. I should think it stood fully seven feet. I

am sure it was nothing subjective, because when I rubbed my eyes it

was still there; neither could it have been any one masquerading, as

the cliff at that particular spot is fully forty feet high, and to

have jumped, or even dropped over it, could not have been done without

incurring serious injury. I did not learn till long afterwards that

the cliff has long borne a reputation for being haunted."

My other informant, who had certainly neither met this lady nor heard

her story, gave me an account of a similar experience she had had in the

same place. Hence I am inclined to think that the house was haunted by

an Elemental, either a Vagrarian or Vice Elemental, that had been

attracted thither either by the loneliness of the locality, or the

barrow (to which I have alluded), or by the crimes formerly perpetrated

on the cliff by wreckers.

It was in this house that I witnessed a manifestation prior to the

death of a near relative of mine. As I have seen a similar apparition

since, and have heard of a thing answering to the same description

being seen separately by members of my family, I am inclined to

classify it with Family Elementals, rather than to associate it with

the Elemental I have just described.

The incident took place one morning at about four o'clock. My attention

being drawn to a bright object in one corner of my room, I sat up in bed

and looked at it, when to my horror I saw a spherical mass of vibrating,

yellow-green light suddenly materialise into the round head of Something

half human, half animal, and wholly evil! The face was longer than that

of a human being, whilst the upper part, which was correspondingly wide,

gradually narrowed till it terminated in a very pronounced and prominent

chin. The head was covered with a mass of tow-coloured, matted hair; the

face was entirely clean-shaven. The thin lips, which were wreathed in a

wicked leer, displayed very long, pointed teeth. But it was the eyes,

which were fixed on mine with a steady stare, that arrested and riveted

my attention. In hue they were of a light green, in expression they were

hellish, for no other word can so adequately express the unfathomable

intensity of their diabolical glee, and, as I gazed at them in helpless

fascination, my blood froze. I do not think the manifestation lasted

more than a few seconds, though to me, of course, it seemed an eternity.

It vanished simultaneously with a loud and utterly inexplicable crash

(as if countless crockery was being smashed) in the passage outside my

door. In the morning I learned of the death of a near relative who had

died just at the time I witnessed the phenomenon.

A striking instance of another kind of phantasm, which I can only

conclude is an Elemental of the order of Clanogrians, occurred quite

recently. In a work of mine entitled "The Haunted Houses of London,"

published last year, I narrated an instance of a lady who, prior to the

death of her husband, heard a grandfather clock (there being no clock of

that description in the house), first of all, strike thirteen, and then,

at intervals, several other numbers, which were subsequently found to

denote the exact date of her husband's death.

Some months after the appearance of this book, I went to see "The Blue

Bird," and found myself seated next but one to the lady who experienced

the phenomenon of the clock. In between the acts she leaned forward to

speak to me, and said: "Isn't it odd, I have heard that clock again, Mr.

O'Donnell, and it struck thirteen just as before? And what is still more

strange, a few days ago, as I was sitting in my drawing-room, I heard a

gong--I have no such thing in my house--very solemnly strike a certain

number of times, quite close to me. Unfortunately, I did not count the

strokes; but what do you think it means?"

I replied that I did not know; possibly, perhaps, the death of some

relative. At the same time, I instinctively felt that the sounds

foretold her own doom--a presentiment which, alas! was only too true, as

Mrs. ---- was killed a few days afterwards in a somewhat extraordinary

taxi-cab collision in Portman Square. As Mrs. ---- was a lady well known

in Society, the accident was fully reported in several of the leading

London dailies--in fact, that was how I first heard of it.

CHAPTER II.

PHANTASMS OF THE LIVING AND DEAD--DEATH WARNINGS AND DREAMS.

In one of my works I have alluded to the case of Miss D. (a signed

account of which appeared in the October number, 1899, of the "Magazine

for the Society of Psychical Research"), who unconsciously projected her

superphysical body into the presence of four witnesses, including

myself, and once when I was staying in Northampton a rather amusing

incident with regard to projection happened to me. I went to Castle

Street Station to see Mrs. W., a connection of mine, off, and as the

train steamed out of the "bay," I was very much surprised to see her

lean out of the window and wave to me. Of course, I waved back, but

thinking such a proceeding on her part was most extraordinary, as I knew

her to be extremely dignified, and averse to anything "tripperish," I

made a note of the circumstance, and resolved to allude to it when next

we met. I did so, but although I made use of all the tact I possess,

Mrs. W. was intensely annoyed, and, of course, indignantly denied

having done such a thing. Now, was this a case of unconscious

projection, or merely of suggestion? I am inclined to think the former.

The same thing happened at Temple Mead Station, Bristol, when I was

again seeing Mrs. W. off to her home. This time I rubbed my eyes, and

still her phantom was at the window, waving vigorously until the train

had travelled some distance!

In an article specially written for "Cassell's Magazine" last year, I

described how, on certain nights in the year (New Year's Eve for

example), I have seen the phantasms of people destined to play some more

or less important rôle in my subsequent life. I have referred to this

peculiar form of phenomenon, too, in my book, "The Haunted Houses of

London," and I am now afforded the opportunity of quoting a third

instance. One New Year's Eve a few years ago I was at a small country

station in the Midlands, waiting for the Birmingham train. As the

weather was very cold and wet, there were few travellers, and the

platform, gloomy and streaming with water, presented a singularly

forlorn and forbidding appearance. Having been confined indoors all

day, I was glad to snatch any opportunity for stretching my limbs, and

was pacing up and down in the rain, when I narrowly avoided collision

with a very elegantly--though unseasonably--dressed lady. Apart from

being pretty, she had a decidedly intellectual face, and I was so struck

with her, that I admit I wheeled round with the intention of passing her

again, when to my astonishment there was no one to be seen, and on my

enquiring both of the station-master and solitary porter who the lady

was, it was positively asserted that no such person had entered the

station. Some months later, when taking tea at a club in Knightsbridge,

I was introduced to Lady ----, whom I immediately recognised as the lady

I had seen on New Year's Eve. I mentioned the incident to her, and she

laughingly told me she had never been to such a place. Lady ----

is now a great friend of mine.

Also the phantasms of people, who have at any time deeply impressed

me, appear to me frequently. Some years ago I was always seeing the

phantasm of H., a boy to whom I had the strangest aversion when I was

at C. College. I recollect the first time I witnessed the phenomenon

was in the High Street, Falmouth. I was walking with an old school

friend, now Major F., of the ---- Regiment. Seeing H. suddenly cross

the road very slowly in front of us, I exclaimed, "Why, how

extraordinary! If that isn't H.! You remember H. at school, don't you?

He hasn't altered in the slightest."

F. laughed. "What are you talking about?" he said. "I certainly do

remember H., but he's not here. Whatever makes you think of him?"

I looked again, and the figure of H. had completely disappeared. Within

that year I saw the phantasm of H. five or six times, but always in

different places, and always when my thoughts were far removed from him.

The question now arises as to whether what I saw was subjective or

objective; if the former, whether it was due to telepathy, suggestion,

or hallucination; if the latter, whether it was superphysical or

illusionary? And here again, I am inclined to attribute the phenomenon

both to the objective and superphysical.

I have alluded in one of my former works to the only really satisfactory

instance in which I have consciously projected my superphysical body,

though I have made various attempts. My failures are, I think, due to

the difficulty I experience in obtaining the necessary conditions of

perfect tranquillity of mind and absolute physical silence. An

interesting experiment I have tried, and in which I hope eventually to

succeed, is as follows:--I lean my forehead against the door of a room

in which several people are seated with cameras. Concentrating

tremendously hard, I bring before my mind a vivid picture of the

contents of that room. The picture becomes clearer and clearer, until I

can see every little detail in it, when I suddenly find myself passing

through the door into the brilliantly illuminated space beyond. An

instant more, and I feel my presence would be revealed to the sitters,

but at the critical moment something mysterious happens, and my

superphysical ego is sharply recalled to my physical body.

Before I refer to my experiences with phantasms of the Dead,

I think some allusions to death warnings by dreams and otherwise

may be of interest.

When I was a little boy, I well remember a Miss C. coming into the room

in which I was sitting, and observing to my companion, "I am sure

something is going to happen to my mother, for as I was crossing the

road just now I distinctly saw her standing on the edge of the pavement

beckoning to me. As I approached, she suddenly vanished."

Two hours later Miss C. again came into my room. This time she was

holding a telegram in her hand, and crying bitterly. "I was sure

something would happen," she said: "my mother is dead. She died just

about the time I saw her."

The house in which I was then staying was in Bath, and Miss C.'s

mother died in Worcester.

The next instance of a phenomenon of this nature occurred years later,

when I was an assistant master in a Preparatory School for the Royal

Navy. I was chatting with the principal one night in his study, which

was in the rear of the house, overlooking a somewhat dreary back

garden. The headmaster was making some remark on the new regulations

that were shortly to come in force with respect to the Entrance

Examination to the _Britannia_, when he suddenly stopped short, and

with a kind of gasping cry that made my blood run cold, pointed to the

white window blind. "See!" he said, "see! it's my father! He's in his

grave-clothes, signalling to me. Oh! my God! he must be dead!" He then

sank back in his chair, breathing heavily. For some seconds there was

a silence which to me, at any rate, was most painful; he then

exclaimed, "It's gone now. Did you see it?"

I replied that I had not seen anything except a violent agitation of the

blind, which agitation, curiously enough, he had not noticed. The next

morning he received a telegram saying his father was dead; the latter

had died about the time his phantasm had been seen by his son.

Though I cannot say I have any great faith in the majority of omens,

such as spilling salt and seeing magpies, nevertheless there are some to

which I do attach importance. The same Miss C., to whom I have just

referred, told me one evening that she had just seen a winding-sheet in

the candle, and that it pointed towards her. That same night she dreamed

one of her teeth came out, and on it was a portrait of her brother Jack.

The following day she received a telegram to the effect that Jack had

died suddenly from an attack of apoplexy.

I have frequently seen phantasms of the dead both in haunted houses

and elsewhere. One of the best friends I ever had was "K.," who was

a fellow student with me when I was reading in Dublin. K., who

came of a very distinguished military family, and was the great-nephew

of the Baroness B., used often to chat with me about the possibilities

of the future life.

"Look here," he said to me one night, "I'll make you a promise. If

anything happens to me within the next few years I'll appear to you."

I laughingly told him I should be very pleased to see his ghost, and

that I would do all I could to make it feel thoroughly at home. Some

months later, "K." went to South Africa, where he eventually joined one

of the Mounted Police Forces. One evening, when I was sitting alone in

my room in D., I suddenly felt very cold, and on glancing towards the

window saw a figure standing in the recess. Though the figure was misty,

luminous, and not at all clearly defined, I had no difficulty in

recognising it as the phantasm of "K.," who had certainly not been in my

thoughts for some long time. He appeared to be wearing a khaki uniform,

which was very much torn and blood-stained. His face was deathly white

and shockingly mutilated, and his eyes, which were wide open and glassy,

were fixed on me with a blank stare. It was a horrid spectacle, and I

was so shocked that I fell back in my chair, feeling sick and faint. I

do not think the manifestation lasted more than a minute at the most. A

few days later, I read in the papers that Major Wilson's party had been

ambushed and cut to pieces on the Shangani River, and among the names of

the victims was that of "K."

Another experience of this nature happened to me whilst I was staying in

Northamptonshire. I was cycling along a road one very hot summer day,

when I suddenly perceived, pedalling steadily away ahead of me, a

cyclist in a grey suit. How he had got there was a mystery, for the road

was straight, there were no turnings, and I had not seen him pass me.

Moreover, there was something very odd both about the rider and his

machine, for despite the dryness of the day, the man's clothes and

bicycle were splashed with mud and dripping with water. Curious to see

his face, I tried my hardest to overtake him, but fast as I went, the

distance between us never seemed to decrease, although he apparently did

not alter his pace. At last we came to a steep hill marked DANGEROUS,

and I saw lumbering slowly up it a heavy drayman's cart. Without

slacking speed the grey cyclist rode recklessly down, and, to my intense

horror, dashed straight into the cart. Jumping off my machine, I placed

it against the hedge, and ran to the cart, fully expecting to see the

mangled remains of the foolhardy rider. To my astonishment, however,

there were no signs of him anywhere, and the driver of the vehicle was

politely incredulous when I told him what I had seen. I subsequently

learned, though not, I admit, on very reliable authority, that a cyclist

had been killed on that hill two or three years previously, but whether

the accident took place on a wet day, or whether the cyclist was clad in

a grey suit, I could not ascertain.

An incident which I have omitted to mention in the proper order,

namely, among phantasms of the Living, happened to me in a village

near Yarmouth. I was on tour at the time, and had gone for a long walk

on Sunday afternoon in the country. On my way back I arrived at the

village of E., and as I was passing a very pretty thatched-roof

cottage, saw, to my astonishment, an actress I had known on tour (and

whose professional name was Ethel Raynor) standing on the path. She

was holding both hands outstretched towards me, and in each of them

was a large bunch of snowdrops. I saw her very distinctly, as she

seemed to give out a light of her own, a bright white glow which

emanated from every part of her body. Her features--she was a

singularly handsome girl--were perfectly life-like, though the total

absence of colour made her appear unnatural. Her eyes, which were dark

and beautiful, were fixed on me with an expression of the utmost

intensity, and from the slight movement of her lips I felt sure she

wanted to say something. I stepped forward with the intention of

addressing her, and the instant I did so, she vanished. On arriving at

my rooms, I made a note of the occurrence in my diary, and was very

surprised to hear that, instead of dying, Miss Raynor had married--her

marriage taking place on the day I had seen her phantasm. Within a

year, however, her husband deserted her, and she committed suicide!

With reference to dreams, there is a vast field for speculation.

In a subsequent chapter I shall state a few of my theories regarding

them. It will suffice here merely to enumerate a few instances

from my own experience.

I once recollect having a very vivid dream in which I saw a man, with

whom I was slightly acquainted, thrown from his horse and terribly

mutilated. The horse looked so evil, and acted with such an

extraordinary amount of diabolical cunning, that I have always felt

suspicious of horses since. The dream was literally fulfilled.

I have often been warned against certain people in dreams, and found

that these warnings were fully justified. For example, when I was the

solitary guest of a man (who, by the way, was the nephew of a celebrated

peer) abroad, I dreamed that my host came into my room and drew the

picture of a crown on my mirror with a piece of red chalk. He then

retraced his steps in silent glee, and as he closed the door behind him,

the glass in the mirror gave a loud crack, and fell on the floor with a

crash. I was so impressed with the dream that I became prejudiced in no

slight degree against my host, and when the latter, a few days later,

tried to persuade me to invest money in a mining enterprise in Cornwall,

I refused; and it was very fortunate I did so, for the mine which had

been opened with so much show and flourish failed, and nearly all the

shareholders were ruined.

Many years ago I visited the State of B----, and shortly after my

arrival at a farm, situated some distance from any settlement, I made

the acquaintance of a neighbouring farmer and his wife, of the name of

Coney. The Coneys, perceiving that I did not like my present

surroundings, suggested that they should take me to the next Province in

their waggon. I was to pay them one and a half dollars a day, in return

for which I was to receive such sleeping accommodation as the waggon

could afford and full board. The route, they took very good care to

assure me, was both beautiful and interesting. Crossing the C----

Mountains, and passing within sight of a famous crater lake and Lake

D----, they would go through mile after mile of forest, teeming with big

game and lovely scenery. As I was young (I was comparatively fresh from

a Public School) and very fond of adventure, the prospect of seeing so

much new country and of doing a little shooting appealed to me very

strongly. Consequently, though I was by no means favourably impressed

with the looks either of the farmer (a squat, beetle-browed man) or of

his wife (a dark, saturnine woman with sly brown eyes and a cruel

mouth), I was on the whole inclined to accept their offer. For the rest

of the day after their visit I deliberated what I should do, and that

night I had a very vivid dream. I saw myself lying asleep in a waggon

which was standing close to the edge of a tremendous abyss. The horses,

which had been taken from the shafts, were tethered to the trunks of two

lofty fir trees, and close to them, engaged in earnest confabulation,

were the farmer and his wife. The moonbeams, falling direct on their

faces, rendered both features and expressions clearly visible, and as I

gazed into their eyes and recognised the intensity of their evil

natures, my soul sickened--they were plotting to murder me. Gliding over

the red-brown soil with noiseless feet, they crept up to the waggon, and

seizing the individual I identified as myself by the head and feet, they

hurled him into the chasm. There was the sound of a splash in the far

distance--and--I awoke. My mind was now made up. I would remain where I

was for the present, at least. And very thankful I am for the warning,

since I afterwards learned that the Coneys bore a very sinister

reputation, and that had I gone with them there is but little doubt they

would have robbed and murdered me.

A friend of mine, who is an officer in the ---- Regiment, dreamed

three times that he was descending a road, at the bottom of which was

a bridge overhead. When he came to the bridge, a man who was in hiding

there rushed out and shot him. The scene was so real and the details

so graphic that my friend was greatly impressed. One day, when he was

walking in the South of Spain, he came to a dip in the road, and

there, before him, lay the scene he had seen so often in his dreams.

He was now in some doubt as to whether he should go on, as he felt

sure the person he had dreamed of would dash out on him. After some

hesitation, however, he proceeded, and eventually arrived at the

bridge. There was no one there, nor did he suffer any molestation

whatsoever on his way home. It is impossible to explain why the dream

should only have been verified in part.

I have many times dreamed I have been fishing in a wood by a waterfall,

and so vividly has the scenery been portrayed that I have got to know

every stick and stone in the place. So far, however, I have never come

across the objective counterpart of that cascade. In other instances I

have found myself visiting the actual spots I have seen in my visions.

For instance, I constantly dreamed of a curious-looking red and white

ship with two funnels, side by side, three masts and a hull, very high

out of the water. Something always told me the vessel was for some

peculiar use, but I could never discover what, neither could I make out

the name which was written on her bows. I could read the first three

letters, but no more. On arriving at a seaside town in the West of

England shortly after one of these vivid nocturnal visions, I saw a

steamer in the bay which I instantly identified as that of my dreams,

whilst to make me still more certain, the letters on her bows

corresponded with those I had seen in my sleep. She had been specially

designed as an Atlantic Cable boat!

Before going to America I distinctly recollect dreaming that I was

standing by myself in the corridor of an enormous hotel. I saw no other

visitors, only one or two porters in very faded uniforms, and

instinctively felt that I was the only guest in the place. This feeling

filled me with awe, and I was dreading the idea of spending a night on

one of the deserted landings, when I awoke. On arriving in San Francisco

some months later, I was conducted by a passenger agent to an hotel,

which I at once recognised as the hotel of my dreams. There was the same

tier upon tier of empty galleries, the same almost interminable

succession of gloomy, deserted corridors and row upon row of gaping

doors leading into silent, tenantless rooms, whilst to complete the

likeness the hall porters wore exactly similar uniforms. From a variety

of causes I was, so the clerk at the booking-office informed me, the

only visitor in the building.

If dreams of present-day places have their objective counterparts, and

dreams of future scenes are fulfilled, is it not feasible that dreams

of the past should be equally veritable? I see no reason why it should

not be so. I have often dreamed of ancient cities teeming with people

clad in loose, flowing drapery and turbans, or tight hose and armour.

I have rubbed shoulders with red-crossed knights, and followed in the

wake of bare-headed monks and light-footed priests. I have gazed

admiringly into the faces of fair ladies whose shining hair was

surmounted with lofty, conical hats, and I have moved aside to make

way for great dames on milk-white palfreys.

In my dreams I have lived in all ages, breathed all kinds of

atmospheres, seen all kinds of events. One or two of these dreams haunt

me now. I remember, for example, dreaming that I was in a very quaint

old town covered with cobblestones. I had a lady with me who was very

near and dear to me, and my object was to protect her from the crowds of

hustling, jostling merrymakers who crowded the thoroughfares. From the

style of dress I saw on all sides, and which both I and my companion

wore, I knew we were in the Middle Ages. But where we were and what was

going on I could not tell. After threading our way through endless

narrow streets, lined with gabled wooden houses, whose upper storeys

projected far over their entrances, we at length arrived at a big square

in which a vast number of people were watching a show. There were three

actors--a devil in a tight-fitting black costume and mask, and two imps

in red, whilst the show consisted of the acrobatic performance of a

number of tricks played by the imps on the devil, who apparently tried

his level best to catch his tormentors, but always failed. Though my

companion and I thought it extremely stupid, the crowd enjoyed it

thoroughly, and I saw one or two stout red-faced women and several burly

men-at-arms convulsed with laughter.

Suddenly, however, when the performance was at its height, there was an

abrupt pause--two priests, with knit brows and glittering eyes, glided

up to a girl, and, placing a hand on each of her arms, led her

despairingly away, the crowd showing their approval of the act by

shaking their fists in the poor wretch's face. Seized with a terrible

fear lest my companion should likewise be taken, I hurried her away, and

as we hastened along I heard the most fearful screams of agony. On and

on we went, until we came to an open space in the town, void of people,

and surrounded by dark, forbidding-looking houses. I halted, and was

deliberating which direction to take, when my companion clutched me by

the elbow. I turned round, and saw, a few yards behind us, three

priests, who, fixing their eyes malevolently on us, darted forward.

Catching my companion by the hand, I was preparing to drag her into one

of the houses opposite, when my foot slipped, and the next moment I saw

her struggling in the hands of her relentless captors. There was a long,

despairing cry--and I awoke. I have had this same dream, detail by

detail, five times, and I know the faces of all the principals in

it now as well as I know my own.

Curiously enough, I have dreamed of the same place, but at a different

period. I have found myself walking along the quaint streets with a

girl, whom I instinctively knew was my wife, past crowds of laughing,

frolicing people dressed in the costume of the French Revolutionary

period. We have come to the open space with the dark, forbidding

houses, when I have slipped just as two savage-looking men in red caps

have dashed out on us. My companion has attempted to escape; they

have pursued her, and with the wails of her death-agony in my ears I

have awakened. Can it be that these dreams are reminiscences of a

former existence, of scenes with which I was once familiar? Or have

they been vividly portrayed to me by an Elemental? I fancy the

latter to be the more likely.

Occasionally I have a peculiarly phantastic dream, in which I find myself

in the depths of a dark forest, standing by a rocky pool, the sides of

which are covered with all kinds of beautiful lichens. As I am gazing

meditatively at the water, a slight noise from behind makes me look round,

when I perceive the tall figure of a man in grey hunting costume, _à la_

Robin Hood, with a bow in one of his hands and a quiver of arrows by his

side. His face is grey, and his eyes long and dark and glittering. He

points to the root of a tree, where I perceive a huge green wooden wheel,

that suddenly commences to roll. In an instant the forest is alive with

grey archers, who fire a volley of arrows at the wheel, and endeavour to

stop it. An arm is thrown round me, I am swung off the ground, and when I

alight on the earth again it is to find myself on a flight of winding stone

steps, in what I suppose is a very lofty tower. The walls on either side

of me are of rough-hewn stone, and on peering through a small grated

window, I can see, many feet beneath me, the silvery surface of a broad

river and a wide expanse of emerald grass. I ascend up, up, up, until I

arrive in a large room, brilliantly illuminated with sunbeams. Hanging on a

wall is a picture representing a woman gazing at a grey door, which is

slowly opening. On the door something is written, which I feel is the

keynote to Life and Death, and I am endeavouring to interpret it when a

hand falls on my shoulder. I look round, and standing beside me is the grey

huntsman. I awake with his subtle, baffling smile vividly before me. A

moment more and I might have been initiated into the great mystery I

have long been endeavouring to solve.

I have little faith in dreams of marriages and deaths. They so seldom

portend what they were once supposed to do. In my opinion, they are the

suggestions of mischievous Elementals.

In concluding this chapter, I will describe a dream I had comparatively

recently. I fancied it was late at night, and that I was on the Thames

Embankment. The only person in sight was a well-dressed man in a

frock-coat and silk hat, who was leaning over the parapet. Feeling

certain from his attitude that he was contemplating suicide, I yielded

to impulse, and, walking up to him, said, "You seem to be very unhappy!

Can I do anything for you?" Raising his head, he looked at me, when to

my astonishment I at once recognised the grey huntsman I had seen in the

dream which I have previously narrated. Complexion, hair, eyes, mouth,

were the same--the expression alone differed. On this occasion he was

sad. "You need not be afraid," he said. "I cannot put an end to my

existence. I wish I could." "Why can't you?" I enquired with interest.

And I have never forgotten the emphasis of his reply. "Because," he

responded, "I am an Evil Force, a Vice Elemental."

Some months after this, when I was travelling one night from Victoria to

Gipsy Hill, I had as my sole companion a well-dressed man in a soft Panama

hat, who appeared to be occupied in a novel. I did not pay the slightest

attention to him till the train stopped at Wandsworth Common, when he

proceeded to get out. As he glided by me on his way to the door, he stooped

down and, smiling sardonically, passed out into the darkness of the night.

It was the man of my dreams, the huntsman and the would-be suicide!

PART II.

PHENOMENA WITNESSED BY OTHER PEOPLE.

CHAPTER III.

"ELEMENTALS."

The reticence people in general show towards having their names and

houses mentioned in print has led me to substitute fictitious names in

most of the cases referred to in this chapter.

In one of my former works I alluded to a phantasm with a pig's head I

saw standing outside an old burial ground in Guilsborough, Northampton.

Some years after the occurrence I was discussing the occult with my

father-in-law, Henry Williams, M.D. (late of Chapel Place, Cavendish

Square), and was very much surprised when he told me that he, too, had

witnessed the same or a similar phenomena in Guilsborough. I append the

statement he made with regard to it:--

"GUILSBOROUGH,

"NORTHAMPTON,

"_January 23, 1909._

"I well remember many years ago, when a boy, running upstairs into

the top room of a certain house in Guilsborough and seeing a tall,

thin figure of a man with an animal's head crouching on the bed. I

was so frightened when I saw it that I ran out of the room as fast

as I could.

"HENRY W. WILLIAMS, M.D."

My father-in-law had certainly made no mention of what he had seen to me

before he heard my experience, neither had I the slightest idea that

such a phantasm had been encountered in the village by any one but

myself. Close to the house where he saw the phenomena I believe an

ancient sacrificial stone was once found, whilst in the same

neighbourhood there are the remains of a barrow and numerous other

evidences of the Stone Age; hence the pig-faced phantasm may have been

either a Vice Elemental attracted to Guilsborough by the human blood

once spilt on the sacrificial stone, or by certain crimes committed in

and around the village in modern times, or by the thoughts of some

peculiarly bestial-minded person, or people, buried in the now disused

cemetery; or, again, the phantasm may have been the actual earth-bound

spirit of some very vicious person, whose appearance would be in

accordance with the life he or she led when on earth. Which of the two

it is I cannot, of course, say: that is--for the present, at

least--beyond human knowledge.

I have recorded another haunting of a similar nature.

Writing to me from Devizes on May 15th, 1910, Mr. "I. Walton" says:--

"DEAR SIR,

"I have just been reading your book, 'Haunted Houses of London.' It

recalls to my mind a hideous apparition which I witnessed about ten

days ago, and which made such an impression on my mind that I send

you particulars of it.

"I was on a visit to my two sons, who live at No. 37, M---- Square,

Chelsea. On the first night of my visit I slept in a room on the

third floor facing the Square. I have no knowledge of the science

you profess, and no personal faith in supernatural apparition, but

the spectacle I witnessed was so extraordinary that, by the light of

your thrilling narratives, it looks as though I may have been

sleeping in a room that has been the scene of a tragedy.

"The room was not utterly dark, and some light penetrated from the

lamps in the Square, but as I lay with my face to the wall, all in

front of me was dark.

"I fell asleep, and remained so for an hour or more, when I suddenly

awoke with a great jerk, and found confronting me the most awful

apparition you can imagine. It was a dwarfed, tubby figure with a

face like a pig, perfectly naked, in a strong bright light. The

whole figure resembled in appearance the scalded body of a pig of

average size, but the legs and arms were those of a human being

brutalised, male or female I could not say. In ten or fifteen

seconds it vanished, leaving me in a profuse perspiration and

trembling, from which I did not recover for some time. But I slept

off the rest of the night.

"When the landlady came to call me (she slept on the third floor

back) she pointed out that a picture on the connecting door had

fallen down between my bed and the next room. Doubtless it was the

fall of the picture that waked me up with a start. But what about

the apparition? I can only assign it to some occult cause.

"I remain, dear Sir,

"Yours faithfully,

"'I. WALTON.'"

In this instance it is, of course, very difficult to tell whether the

phenomena is Subjective or Objective. Presuming it to be Objective,

which I am inclined to believe it was, then it was either the

earth-bound spirit of some particularly vicious person who was in some

way connected with the house, or else it was a Vice Elemental attracted

to the house either by the foul thoughts of some occupant or by some

murder formerly committed there.

Writing to me again on June 13th, 1910, Mr. "I. Walton" says:--

"DEAR SIR,

"I am quite willing that you should find a place for my experience

in your forthcoming book. I think I omitted one detail of the

spectre: it had bright yellow hair worn in ringlets extending

barely as far as the shoulders.

"Yours faithfully,

"'I. WALTON.'"

Another case in which there is little or no doubt of the apparition

being a Vice Elemental was related to me by Mrs. Bruce, whose husband

was recently stationed in India. Her narrative is as follows:--

"We once lived in a bungalow that had been built on the site of a house

whose inhabitants had been barbarously murdered by the Sepoys during the

Indian Mutiny, and we had not occupied it many days before we were

disturbed by hearing a curious, crooning noise coming from various parts

of the building. The moment we entered a room, whence the noise seemed

to proceed, there was silence, while the instant our backs were turned

it recommenced. We never saw anything, however, until one day when my

husband, hearing the sounds, hurriedly entered the room in which he

fancied he could locate them. He then saw the blurred outlines of

something--he could only describe as semi-human--suddenly rise from one

of the corners and dart past him. The disturbances were so worrying that

we eventually left the house."

In this case the amount of blood spilt on the site of the bungalow would

in itself be a sufficient cause for the hauntings, and my only surprise

is that it did not attract many more Elementals of this species.

Miss Frances Sinclair had an uncanny experience whilst travelling by

rail between Chester and London last autumn.

On entering a tunnel, at about six in the evening, Miss Sinclair was

quite positive there was no one in the compartment saving herself and

her dog. Judge then her astonishment and dismay, when she suddenly saw,

seated opposite her, the huddled-up figure of what she took to be a man

with his throat cut! He had two protruding fishy eyes, which met hers in

a glassy stare. He was dressed in mustard-coloured clothes, and had a

black bag by his side. Miss Sinclair was at once seized with a violent

impulse to destroy herself, and whilst her dog was burying its nose in

the folds of her dress and exhibiting every indication of terror, Miss

Sinclair was doing all she could to prevent herself jumping out of the

carriage. Just when she thought she must succumb and was on the verge of

opening the door, the tunnel ended, the phantasm vanished, and her

longing for self-destruction abruptly ceased. She had never before, she

assures me, experienced any such sensations.

Here, of course, it is impossible to say whether what she witnessed

was Subjective or Objective, but assuming the latter, then I am

inclined to think that the apparition, judging by its appearance and

the desires it generated, was a Vice Elemental, and not a Phantasm of

the Dead. It need not necessarily have been attached to the

compartment in which she happened to see it, but may have haunted the

tunnel itself, manifesting itself in various ways.

An author, whom I will designate Mr. Reed, told me a few weeks ago, that

he and his brother, on going upstairs one evening, had seen the figure

of a man with a cone-shaped head suddenly stalk past them, and, bounding

up the stairs, vanish in the gloom. Though naturally very surprised,

neither Mr. Reed nor his brother were in the least degree frightened. On

the contrary, they were greatly interested, as the phantasm answered so

well to their ideas of a bogey! As both brothers saw it, and neither of

them were in the least degree nervous, I am inclined to think that this

phantom was a Vagrarian, and that its presence in the house was due

either to some prehistoric relic that lay buried near at hand, or to the

loneliness and isolation of the place.

Mrs. H. Dodd had a strange experience with an Elemental. "Waking up one

night many years ago," she tells me, "I saw a tall figure standing by my

bedside. It appeared to have a light inside it, and gave the same

impression that a hand does when held in front of a candle. I could see

the red of the flesh and dark-blue lines of the ribs--the whole was

luminous. What the face was like I do not know, as I never got so far,

being much too frightened to look. It bent over me, and I hid my head in

the bedclothes with fright. When I told my parents about it at

breakfast, to my surprise no one laughed at me; why, I do not know,

unless the house was haunted and they knew it. My brother said he had

seen a tall figure disappear into the wall of his room in the night."

As Mrs. Dodd adds that a near relative of hers died about that time, it

is, of course, possible that the phantasm was that of the latter,

although from the possibilities of grotesqueness suggested by what she

saw of the ghost, as well as from the fact that the house was newly

built in a neighbourhood peculiarly favourable to Elementals, I am

inclined to assign it to that class of apparitions.

Some months ago I received from the Baroness Von A---- the following

account of a haunting experienced by her family:--

"DEAR MR. O'DONNELL" (she writes),

"I should be much obliged if you would tell me the meaning of the

things witnessed by my grandmother, Lady W----, widow of General

Sir B. W----. I must first tell you that she was always a most

truthful, sensible and unimaginative woman, that I am quite sure

she would not have invented or added to anything she told so often.

The story is thus:--

"During the fifties or sixties, she and my grandfather, then

Colonel W----, went to stay with some very old friends of theirs,

Colonel and Mrs. V----, at their place in the country: I forget the

name, but think it was near Worcester. Neither of my grand-parents

had ever heard of anything supernatural in connection with the

V----'s house, yet my grandmother told me she felt a sense of the

most acute discomfort the minute she entered her friends' house.

This, however, passed off until, having occasion to go upstairs to

her room after dinner to fetch her needlework, she felt it again on

crossing the hall. Scarcely had she started to mount the stairs

than she distinctly heard footsteps behind her. She stopped, so did

they; so, thinking it a trick of imagination, she went on, when the

footsteps went on, too. They could not possibly be the echo of

hers, as she heard the sound of her own, and the others were quite

different, lighter and shorter. They followed her to the door of

her bedroom, the door of which she quickly shut and bolted, as she

was feeling very frightened, but all the time she felt the

footsteps were waiting for her outside. At last she made up her

mind to go down again, but scarcely had she emerged from her room

and started to go down the corridor, when the footsteps

recommenced. Thoroughly frightened, she ran to the drawing-room,

never stopping till she was in the midst of her friends, but

hearing all the while the light steps flying after her. They

stopped only when she entered the drawing-room. On Mrs. V----

remarking on her pale face, my grandmother told her what had

happened. Mrs. V---- then announced that the footsteps were a

common occurrence, that nearly every one in the house had heard

them, and that a thorough investigation had been made without

result--there was no explanation. My grandmother heard the

footsteps on several other occasions.

"The other manifestations occurred during her stay in the same

house. It was some days after the last occurrence, that my

grandfather had occasion to go up to town with Colonel V----,

leaving my grandmother alone. Quite contrary to her usual habit,

when bedtime came she felt unaccountably nervous, and therefore

asked a friend, Miss R----, who was also a guest at the V----'s, to

stay with her for the night. They went to bed and to sleep, but not

for long. They were both awakened by the clock on the landing

outside striking twelve, when they both sat up in bed

simultaneously, owing to their hearing the most unaccountable

knocking over their heads, although, otherwise, the house was

absolutely silent. They listened, and heard it again and again, and

my grandmother said it sounded to them both as if nails were being

driven into a coffin. The knocking continued for some time, until,

unable to bear it any longer, Miss R---- jumped out of bed and

said, 'Well! I'm going to see what it is; it is evidently coming

from the room on the floor above, just over us, and I must find

out.' My grandmother volunteered to go with her, and they crept up

to the second storey, the knocking getting louder each step they

took. On arriving at the door whence the sounds--which were very

distinct now--proceeded, they found the door was locked, and as

they turned the handle for the second time the knocking ceased, to

be replaced by the most gruesome and hellish laughter. Too

frightened to go on with their investigations, they fled

downstairs, the laughter continuing as they ran. Immediately they

entered their room the knocking recommenced, and went on for a

considerable time, and when it stopped, being both too frightened

to sleep, they lit a lamp and talked till the morning. When the

housemaid brought them their tea, she remarked on their worn looks,

and on being told the reason, said, 'Oh, dear! That's Mr. Harry's

room, and it's always kept locked when he is away. If only nothing

has happened to him!'

"During the day a telegram came to say that the eldest boy, Harry,

who was then in London, had died during the night; they did not

even know he was ill.

"One thing I ought to mention is that a large cage of doves stood

outside on the second floor landing. As a rule, these birds are

frightened at the smallest sound, but my grandmother says she

noticed that they never moved, although the noise of the knocking

and laughter was enough to waken any one."

The Baroness Von A---- goes on to ask if I think the disturbances were

due to Phantasms of the Dead or to Elementals. I told her that, in my

opinion, the knockings and laughter were due to one and the same

agency, namely, that of an Elemental which had attached itself to the

house in the same way as other Elementals--commonly known as Family

Ghosts--attach themselves to families. Very probably the Elemental was

attracted to the house in the first instance by some crime committed

there, or it may even have been attracted to the soil prior to the

building of the house. Such spirits vary in their attitude to Man. "The

Yellow Boy," for instance, that haunted a certain room at Knebworth,

appearing periodically to whoever was sleeping there, and by gestures

describing the manner of their approaching death, did not, when giving

the warning, exhibit any glee or malice: his actions were perfectly

mechanical and his expression neutral. For example, when the apparition

appeared to Lord Castlereagh, it merely drew its hand three times across

its throat, thus predicting the way his lordship would die. (Lord

Castlereagh shortly afterwards committed suicide by cutting his throat.)

Other cases of death-warning in which there is no apparent malice are

"The Radiant Boy" at Corby Castle, when the apparition is benevolent

rather than otherwise, and the "Drummer" at Cortachy Castle, when the

phenomenon appears to be mischievous rather than malicious.

On the other hand, that there is evil design and intention on the part

of some death-warning phenomena is quite evident, to my mind, from the

case of the clock to which I have alluded in Chapter I.; a case which

also proves, I think, that the fates of some, if not indeed of all of

us, are pre-ordained, and that there are certain orders of Elementals

that not only have the power to warn us of these fates, but that can

also be instrumental in accomplishing them. For instance, _re_ the clock

that struck thirteen, and the lady who was killed in the taxi-cab

accident, it will be remembered that the latter was of a very

extraordinary nature--so extraordinary, in fact, that it really seems as

if the Elemental was the actual contriver of it--that it deliberately

plotted the disaster, and that it was present at the time, predominating

the thoughts and guiding the hands of the two drivers as they collided

with one another. Why it did so is difficult to conceive, unless,

preferring solitude for its domain, it regarded Mrs. Wright as an

obstacle in its way, and an intruder where it had the sole privilege of

haunting. Possibly, too, the house in which Mrs. Wright lived may be

under some curse or ban, which necessitates those having the temerity

to occupy it, paying the penalty of so doing with their lives, the time

and nature of their deaths being decided by the phenomenon in charge.

This supposition--namely, that Elementals can be instrumental in

working evil--coincides with my theory that diseases are primarily due

to powers or spirits antagonistic to the human race, and that such

powers or spirits exist in multitudinous forms; but whereas Morbas

have the widest range possible, the other two species of Elementals,

_i.e._, Vice Elementals and Clanogrians, or Family Ghosts, are

confined to certain families and houses.

Miss Rolands, a friend of mine, who is an artist, gives me an experience

that once happened to her.

"I am afraid I will tell this story very badly," she begins, "but I will do

my little best. I remember it all so well, though I was little more than a

child at the time. I lived with my grandparents, aunts, and sister in an

old house in Birkenhead. The house was a very high one. It had both attics

and cellars, and in one of the attics there was a bloodstain, due, so I was

told, to a murder of a particularly horrible nature, that had once been

perpetrated there, and on account of which the house was reputed to be

haunted. Rumour said that in bygone days the house had been inhabited by

priests, and that it was one of them who had been killed, his body being

taken away in a barrel! In spite, however, of the bloodstain and the grim

tales in connection with it, my sisters and I, at the commencement of our

tenancy of the house, used to play in the attic, and nothing happened. But

at last there came a night when we awoke to the fact that there was a

ghastly amount of truth in what we had heard. Some time after we had all

gone to bed, we were all aroused (even my practical old grandfather) by

three loud knocks on one of the doors which each of us fancied was our own.

Then there was silence, and then, from the very top of the house where the

attic was situated, a barrel was rolled down the stairs!--bump! bump! bump!

When it reached each separate landing, there was a short interval as if the

barrel was settling itself before beginning its next journey, and then

again, bump! bump! fainter and fainter, until it reached the cellar,

when the sounds ceased.

When this stage was reached, we used to light tapers and all look out of

our respective doors with white scared faces and hair that literally

felt as if it were standing on end, and then, after a few seconds of

breathless silence we flew with one accord to one room, where we

remained, packed like herrings, till the morning.

This strange, mysterious occurrence happened at least three times to my

knowledge, and I can vouch for its absolute truth, as can my aunts and

sister, and as could my grandparents, if they were alive.

Without any accurate details with regard to the murder, it is impossible

to say definitely to what class of phantasms this haunting was due. One

might attribute it entirely to the work of IMPERSONATING ELEMENTALS,

entirely to phantasms of the Dead, or to both Impersonating Elementals

and Phantasms of the Dead.

I have recently been seeking for information concerning Pixies, and as

the result of my enquiries have received replies from several people

(whose social position and consequent sense of honour are a guarantee of

their veracity) declaring they have seen this species of Elemental.

One of my informants, Miss White, who lives in West Cornwall, tells me

that on one occasion, when she was crossing some very lonely fields,

almost within sight of Castle-on-Dinas, she suddenly saw a number of

little people rise from among the boulders of granite on the top of a

hill facing her; they were all armed with spears and engaged in a kind

of mimic battle, but, on Miss White approaching them, they instantly

vanished, nor did she ever see them again.

I can quite imagine that the hill, where Miss White alleges she saw

these little phantasms, is haunted, as the whole of that neighbourhood

(with which I have been acquainted for some years) is most

suggestive of every kind of Elemental. There are, for example, on

Castle-on-Dinas, the remains of an ancient Celtic village, and I have

no doubt the locality has experienced many violent deaths, and that

many prehistoric people lie buried there.

Another of my correspondents, Mrs. Bellew, says:--"In the winter of

1888-89 I was suffering from delicate lungs, and was advised to have a

fire in my bedroom night and morning. One night, between eleven and

twelve, I was awakened suddenly by a coal falling into the fender, and

heard a small voice, resembling the squeaking of a mouse, say, 'We did

that! you didn't know it,' then there followed shrill laughter. I sat

up in bed so as to command a view of the fireplace, and saw sitting on a

live coal two little beings about six inches high, with human faces and

limbs and white skins.

"Quite naturally I answered, 'I knew perfectly well it was you.' At

the sound of my voice they vanished at once, and I, only then,

realised how strange an experience I had had. The whole incident only

occupied a minute or two."

Of course, it is very difficult to think that this was not entirely

subjective, and were it not for the fact that Mrs. Bellew is so positive

that the phenomena were objective, I should be inclined to believe

otherwise. Still, it is very delightful to think there may be such a

pleasant type of Elemental.

An interesting incident occurred to the Rev. G. Chichester, with whom

I had some correspondence two years ago. It was the only psychic

experience he had had, and took place at a Druid's Circle in the North

of England. As he was examining the stones of the Circle, he suddenly

became aware of a "death-like smell" (to quote his own words) and the

sense of some approaching presence. Retreating hastily to a distance,

he then perceived a figure clad in white or light grey glide from the

adjoining wood and vanish near the largest stone of the cromlech. The

Circle was in a pine wood, and under one of the stones which had been

dug up in the late seventies of the last century an urn had been

found, which urn is now in a museum. The Rev. G. Chichester informed

me that manifestations of an unpleasant nature had also followed the

lifting of a stone in a celebrated cromlech in Cumberland, so that he

was inclined to think psychic phenomena invariably followed the

disturbance of any of the stones. Though Mr. Chichester did not give

me any very definite idea of what he saw, it seems to me highly

probable that it was a BARROWVIAN, or the phantasm of a prehistoric

man; the latter, being thoroughly animal, would possess no soul, and

his spirit would doubtless remain earth-bound _ad infinitum_. On the

other hand, of course, it might have been a Vagrarian.

Of the appearance of spirit lights I have had abundant evidence. Mrs.

W----, of Guilsborough, with whom I am well acquainted, informs me that

on awaking one night she found the room full of the most beautiful

coloured lights, that floated in mid-air round the bed. They were so

pretty that she was not in the least alarmed, but continued to watch

them till they suddenly vanished. The darkness of the night, the

inclemency of the weather, and the situation of the room precluded the

probability of the lights being produced by any one outside the house.

In the memoirs of a famous lady artist I have just been editing, I have

given an account of blue lights seen by her and her husband in their

bedroom. On this occasion the manifestations filled the eye-witnesses

with horror, and the husband, in his endeavours to ward them off the

bed, struck at them with his hand, when they divided, re-uniting again

immediately afterwards.

I am inclined to think that in both instances the lights were due to the

presence of some form of Elemental in the initial stage of materialisation;

but whereas the beauty of the lights and the absence of fear in the first

case suggests that the phantasms belonged to some agreeable type of

Elemental, very likely of the order of Pixies, the uniform blueness and the

presence of fear in the latter case suggests that the lights were due to

some terrifying and vicious form of Elemental, that was in all probability

permanently attached to the house.

These lights seem to resemble in some respects those seen from time to

time in Wales, though in the latter case the phenomena appear with the

purpose of predicting death. A description is given of them in "Frazer's

Magazine." They would seem to be closely allied with the corpse candles,

or Canhyllan Cyrth, also seen in Wales, an account of which is given in

"News from the Invisible World," a work by T. Charley, who collected his

information (so I understand from an announcement on the title-page)

from the works of Baxter, Wesley, Simpson, and other writers. These

candles are so called because their light resembles in shape that of a

candle; in colour it is sometimes white, sometimes of various shades of

blue. If it is pale blue and small, it predicts the death of an infant;

if big, an adult. The writer then narrates several cases relative to the

appearance of these lights, the concluding one running thus: "About

thirty-four or thirty-five years since, one Jane Wyatt, my wife's

sister, being nurse to Baronet Rud's three eldest children and (the lady

being deceased) the lady controller of that house, going late into a

chamber where the maidservants lay, saw there no less than five of

these lights together. It happened a while after, the chamber being

newly plastered and a grate of coal fire therein kindled to hasten the

drying up of the plastering, that five of the maidservants went there to

bed, as they were wont; but in the morning they were all dead, being

suffocated in their sleep with the steam of the newly tempered lime and

coal. This was at Langathen, in Carmarthenshire."

These lights do not appear to have ever reached any further stage of

materialisation, though I imagine they possess that capability and that

they are in reality some peculiarly grim form of Elemental--as grim,

maybe, as the drummers and pipers of Scotland, and other Glanogrians or

Family Ghosts, with which they would seem to be closely connected.

Of Noises, that are popularly attributed to Poltergeists, but which I

think are due either to Phantasms of the Dead or to Vagrarian,

Impersonating or Vice Elementals, I have received many accounts.

Miss Dulcie Vincent, sister to the Society beauty (whose experience I

shall give later on), and herself a well-known beauty, says:--

"When I was staying with my uncle some years ago in his house in

Norfolk, we used to hear the most remarkable noises at night, which no

one could in any way explain. For example, there were tremendous crashes

as if all the crockery in the house was being dashed to pieces on the

kitchen tiles, whilst at other times we heard heavy thuds and bumps as

if furniture were being moved about wholesale from one room to another.

One night, the noises were so great that my uncle took his gun and went

downstairs, making sure that there were burglars in the house; but the

moment he opened the door of the room whence the sounds proceeded, there

was an intense hush, and nothing was to be seen. A few nights after this

incident, I was awakened by hearing my bedroom door slowly open. I

looked, but saw no one. Seized with ungovernable terror, I then buried

my head under the bedclothes, when I distinctly heard soft footsteps

approach the bed. There was then a silence, during which I instinctively

felt some antagonistic presence close beside me. Then, to my

indescribable terror, the bedclothes were gently pulled from my face,

and I felt something--I knew not what--was peering down at me and trying

to make me look. Exerting all my will power, however, I am thankful to

say I kept my eyes tightly closed, and the Thing at length stealthily

withdrew, nor did I ever experience it again.

"My uncle's house was built on the site of some old cottages, in one of

which lived a mad woman, but whether the disturbances were due to her

phantasm or not, I cannot, of course, say."

Neither can I! though I should think it not at all improbable,

as many hauntings of a similar nature are undoubtedly caused

by the earth-bound spirits of the mad, which accounts for the

senseless crashings and thumpings!

Miss Featherstone, a lady residing in Hampshire, has also had an

experience with similar phenomena. "About six years ago," she informs

me, "after my sister's death, I had a very unpleasant form of Psychism"

(I quote her own words), "which has only lately ceased. Things used to

disappear and reappear in a very strange way. Though it was apparently

uncanny, it was, of course, difficult to prove absolutely they had not

been moved by physical means. The first time the phenomena took place

was during the visit of a very practical friend. She had been writing,

and had put her materials together, and was walking out of the room,

when her pen was whisked out of her hand. She looked about everywhere,

she shook her dress (which was quite a new one), but the pen had

vanished--it was nowhere to be seen. Then she went upstairs, put on her

walking shoes, hat, and gloves, and went to the railway station, came

straight home, and, on taking off her outdoor things, discovered the

missing pen inside a tailor's stitching across the front of her dress!

She could not find any opening where it could have got in, and was

obliged to unpick part of the dress to get it out. I wanted her to send

an account of the incident to the S.P.R., but as she had a strong

aversion to anything in the nature of publicity, I could not persuade

her to do so. After this things constantly disappeared, and reappeared

in a prominent position after every one had searched the place. I think,

and hope, however, that this has now ceased, as it procured me a very

bad reputation with several servants, who emphatically declared I was in

league with the Evil One."

In a subsequent letter she writes:--"The house in which my Poltergeist

experiences took place was in Dawlish, but the annoyances followed me to

London. I had been sitting at friendly _séances_ with one or two friends

at that time. At the beginning the phenomena seemed in some way

associated with an old cupboard which I had bought second-hand, and

which I still possess."

If the disturbances were not brought about by human agency, then I think

it highly probable that both the _séances_ at which Miss Featherstone

had been attending and the oak chest may have been responsible for them.

I am quite sure that whenever a genuine spirit manifestation takes place

at a _séance_, that that manifestation is due either to the earth-bound

spirits of people who were merely silly when in the body (and of these

there have been, still are, and always will be a superabundance), to the

earth-bound spirits of people who were bestial and lustful, or simply

due to mischievous Impersonating and other kinds of Elementals. These

latter, when once encouraged, are extremely difficult to shake off. They

attach themselves to certain of the sitters, whom they follow to their

homes, which they subsequently haunt. I have known many such instances;

hence, I think it very probable that a mischievous Elemental attached

itself to Miss Featherstone at one of the _séances_ she attended, and,

following her from place to place, pestered her with its unpleasant

attentions. On the other hand, it is quite possible that the oak chest

was haunted by some species of Elemental, as is often the case with

pieces of furniture, either old in themselves or constructed of antique

wood--wood, for instance, that comes from a bog, an ancient forest, a

mountain top, or any other spot frequented by Vagrarians.

Miss Featherstone gives me another experience she once had, and which is

not without interest.

"About seven years ago," she says, "my two sisters and I were staying at

a farmhouse near Chagford, on Dartmoor, between Thridly and Gidleigh. We

started one day to walk to the latter place, and went through the

village and up a lane beyond, on to the open moor, where we found

ourselves on a level piece of ground, with Kes Tor close by to our left,

whilst on our right were three new-looking houses, with little gardens

and wicket gates leading to them. I went into one to enquire if there

were any rooms to let for the following year, and was shown over it,

while my sisters waited on the moor for me. Strange to say, I forgot to

ask the name and address of the place, but it seemed on a perfectly

straight road from Gidleigh. When we got back to Chagford, we asked our

landlady where we had been, and she said the name of the place was

Berry Down; so the next year we wrote there for rooms, but on arriving

were astonished to find quite a different place--not on the open moor at

all. We then set about looking for the three houses we had seen. We

walked round Gidleigh in every direction, enquiring of the postman,

clergymen, farmers, and villagers, but none knew of any such houses, nor

could we ever find the remotest traces of them. The day on which we saw

them was bright and sunny, so that we could not possibly have been

mistaken, and, moreover, we rested on the moor opposite them for some

time, so that had they been mere optical illusions, we should have

eventually become aware of the fact. Several old Gidleigh cottagers to

whom we narrated the incident were of the opinion we had been 'Pixie

led.' Is such a thing possible?"

There are instances I know--though I cannot at present recall one--where

people have seen and entered phantom houses, just as sailors have

witnessed the phenomenon of the phantom ship--which I have heard has

been seen again comparatively recently off the North Cornwall coast--but

whether such visions are due to Pixies, or any other kind of Elemental,

I cannot, with certainty, say. Taking into consideration, however, the

numerous tricks Elementals do play, and how they very often, I believe,

suggest dreams, I see no reason why they should not have been

responsible for the delusion of the three cottages.

CHAPTER IV.

PHANTASMS OF THE DEAD.

Though I head this chapter "Phantasms of the Dead," it is almost

impossible to discriminate between Phantasms of the Dead, _i.e._, the

actual earth-bound souls of the people, and Elementals, whose special

function it is to impersonate them. In the case of murder, whereas, I

think it quite possible that the spirit of the actual murderer

appears, I think it highly unlikely that the soul of his victim (save,

of course, where the latter has led a vicious life) is equally

earth-bound, but that what we see is merely an impersonating

Elemental, who, in company with the earth-bound soul of the homicide,

nightly (or periodically) re-enacts the tragedy.

In cases of suicide, too, I think the nature of the Phantasms that

subsequently appears largely depends on the life led by the suicide--if

vicious the hauntings would be due to his earth-bound spirit, if moral

to an Impersonating Elemental, but in either case Vice Elementals would

in all probability be attached to the spot, when the hauntings would at

once become dual (which so frequently happens). Where the suicide is a

criminal lunatic or epileptic imbecile, I believe the phenomenon seen is

his or her actual spirit--I do not think such people have souls. By

spirit, I mean the mere animal side of man's nature--that Force, which

is solely directed to the attainment and furtherance of carnal desires;

by soul, that Force, which recognizes and strives after all that tends

to make the mind pure and beautiful.

With regard to wraithes, _i.e._, apparitions seen shortly after death, I

think that in the majority of cases at all events, it is the actual

superphysical body of the deceased that appears, prior to its removal to

other spheres, and that, except during this interval, the souls of the

rational and moral never return to the material world. In all other

cases of hauntings the phenomena are due either to the earth-bound

spirits of the depraved, to the silly, _i.e._, those who, without being

actually cruel or lustful, have no capacity for the culture of mind; to

criminal lunatics, and epileptic imbeciles; or else to Elementals,

benevolent, neutral and otherwise.

CASES.

Mrs. P., the wife of an Army Medical Officer, living in my

neighbourhood, says: "Some years ago I was travelling to Southampton,

with my little daughter, a child of four. My nephew, who lived in Mare

Street, Hackney, asked me to pass the night at his house. It was a large

building, with long passages, out of which many doors opened, and, close

to the back of it, there lay a cemetery.

"We arrived, to find no one at home but the servants. My nephew had left

a message for me, asking me to make myself thoroughly 'at home' and go

to bed, if I felt tired after the journey.

"My little daughter and I shared a big room with a double bed. I did

not sleep for some time on account of a curious noise. Though there

was no wind, all the doors in the passage rattled on their hinges and

bumped about, as if someone was going along trying the handles. The

noise lasted for some time, and disturbed me a great deal so that I

did not sleep at all well.

"In the morning my nephew said, 'Well, Aunt, I hope you were

comfortable and had a good night?' 'Oh, everything was comfortable,'

I replied, 'but I did not pass a good night. There is something very

strange about the doors in your upstairs passage. They seemed to be

kicking about on their hinges for hours.'

"He looked at me in rather a curious way, and said, 'I suppose you did

not know that my mother died in the room where you slept--in fact, in

the very same bed.'

"'Indeed, I did not,' I answered, 'and, if I had known it, I should

never have accepted your hospitality.'

"Well, I went on my journey to India, and thought no more about the matter.

But, when I returned, a year or two later, I happened to speak of it to one

of my nieces, who instantly gave me her experience in the same house.

"'After our mother died,' she said, 'the room was shut up and it

remained so for some time. Then my sister and I decided that we should

use it, and we slept there together. The first night we were not

disturbed, but the second night I woke and saw our mother sitting in a

chair before the large dressing glass. My sister was asleep, but I

suppose I must have made some movement which roused her, for she awoke,

and, without a word from me, cried out--'There's mother! Mother has come

back to us!' Thus, you see, we both saw the apparition plainly and had

not the least doubt as to who it was."

The manifestations in this case were, I think, due to a benevolent

Elemental that impersonated the dead lady with the object of conveying

some message from the soul of the latter to her living relatives and

friends. The impression conveyed by the phenomenon to the girls, would

be that their mother was still cognisant of them; whilst the Elemental

would, in all probability, find some means of communicating the welcome

tidings to the mother that her daughters had not forgotten her.

Mrs. P---- narrated to me another case. "My husband," she said, "attended a

certain old man and his wife who were very devoted to one another. They

were quite elderly people, but sound and sane--not at all fanciful or

inclined to be foolish. When the old man died, his wife felt his loss most

dreadfully. She never quite got over it, and, when she took to her bed with

her last illness, she was constantly saying that she wished she could see

her husband again. Her attendants told her that she ought not to say such

a thing, but the wish grew upon her, till, one day, being alone, she spoke

to him and begged him to come back.

"Immediately he appeared to be sitting in a chair by her bedside. But,

though her wish was gratified, she was terrified.

"'Go away, go away!' she cried, 'I don't want you.' The vision vanished.

Some few days later, she died. I often used to sit with her, and I am

sure that she was quite reasonable and in full possession of her wits."

Here, of course, one has to entirely depend upon the evidence of the

deceased who, being ill at the time, might easily have been the victim

of an illusion--at least so it seems to me. I merely quote the case to

show that I am not always ready to accept as objective the phenomena

witnessed by a single individual.

The case of Miss V. St. Jermyn, a lady living in the North of London, is

a great deal stronger.

"My father," she says, "was the Rector of an immense parish, which was

divided at his death. He had ten curates. The senior curate, who was

appointed to succeed him in the more important division, was shortly

afterwards made a Canon, so I shall speak of him as Canon Jervis. He

owed everything he had to my father, and he was always ready to say this

and talk of his obligations to my father. I mention this to show the

sort of regard he had for my father. We on our side, my brothers,

sisters and I, always looked on him as a very great friend, having known

him all our lives. There was never anyone with whose appearance we were

more familiar, and he certainly was rather remarkable looking. Standing

at least six feet and proportionately broad, he had a square face, rough

hewn features and very thick crêpé hair, which was getting grizzled. He

was always very well dressed. Everyone was much struck with his

appearance and I was constantly being asked who he was.

"Early one January (about the 3rd, I think), some years ago, he died,

and we were all so grieved that we at once wrote expressing our sympathy

to his family. We certainly thought about him a good deal, though his

death was not one of those great sorrows which leave no room in one's

mind for the remembrance of anything else.

"About the 13th of February (of that year), my brother, sister and

myself went to tea with a friend, a well-known artist at the Pembroke

Studios, Kensington. It was a very pleasant party and we stayed late;

indeed, we were nearly the last to leave. For about fifteen minutes

before we left the Studios, I was talking to our host, who was showing

us a curious old French bible with coloured illustrations. I mention

this to show how my mind had been engaged.

"After leaving the studio, on our way to the High Street, Kensington, we

had to pass along one side of Edwardes' Square. There the houses have

little gardens with iron railings and the pathway is very narrow. We

were walking one after the other, my brother in front, my sister next,

and I last, when, suddenly, I saw Canon Jervis as clearly and plainly as

I have ever in my life seen anyone before or since. He passed me on the

side next the railings. I cannot in any way explain why I did, or said,

nothing at the time, saving that I was too overcome with amazement. We

went on and got into an omnibus, which took us to the street where we

live. As we walked along the latter, I again saw the Canon coming down a

side street and my sister immediately exclaimed: 'There is Canon Jervis!

looking just as if he were alive!' My brother, who was a little way in

front of us, did not speak--he had seen nothing.

"Looking back on the incident I cannot explain why we neither attempted

to look after or follow him. But I think most people at the time of

seeing an apparition seem to be in a sense paralysed with astonishment

and quite lose their presence of mind."

As the manifestation occurred so soon after the Canon's death, I am

inclined to think that in this instance it was a _bona fide_

phantasm of the Dead.

A case of a haunting with a purpose was related to me recently by a Mrs.

Craven. Whilst visiting at a country house, Mrs. Craven often used to

retire to the library for a few minutes' quiet reading, when she

invariably found a priest sitting there, in a peculiarly pensive

attitude. Wondering who he was, as she never saw him in any other part

of the house, but not liking to disturb him, Mrs. Craven used to sit and

steal furtive glances at him from over her book, until she felt she

could no longer stand being in his presence, when she made her escape as

silently as possible from the room. This went on for some days, until

determining one morning to brave it out, she remained in her seat till

the priest somewhat electrified her by suddenly pointing in a very

agitated manner to the book shelves. Thinking him queerer than ever, but

attributing his inertness to some possible physical affliction, Mrs.

Craven went to the bookcase and after some trouble discovered the book

he wanted. But on bringing it to him, he motioned her to turn over the

leaves, and to her astonishment the book seemed to open at the place he

indicated, where she perceived a loose sheet of paper covered with

writing. Obeying his tacit injunctions she threw the document into the

fire, whereupon the priest at once vanished.

Much startled, Mrs. Craven related what had occurred to the hostess, who

coolly informed her that the library was well known to be haunted by just

such an apparition as she had described, which, however, only appeared

periodically. So far, Mrs. Craven does not think it has been seen again.

The identity of the priest being unknown, one cannot say for certain

whether this phenomenon was a phantasm of the Dead or an Impersonating

Elemental, though, from the lives of self-indulgence led by so many

priests in the past, I am inclined to believe it was a genuine phantasm

of the Dead. I think the incident of the document is quite sufficient in

itself to prove the manifestations were objective.

There is a well authenticated story current in Clifton (Bristol) of an

apparition appearing (in the home of a well-known professional man)

comparatively recently, with a purpose.

Miss Debrett, an artist belonging to one of the Cornish Art Colonies,

had a curious experience at Moret, which experience I will tell

in her own words:--