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ANIMAL GHOSTS
OR,
ANIMAL HAUNTINGS AND THE HEREAFTER
BY ELLIOTT O'DONNELL
AUTHOR OF
"THE SORCERY CLUB," "WERWOLVES," "BYWAYS OF GHOSTLAND," "SCOTTISH
GHOSTS," "HAUNTED HOUSES OF LONDON," "HAUNTED HOUSES OF ENGLAND AND
WALES," "DREAMS AND THEIR MEANINGS," "FOR SATAN'S SAKE," "THE UNKNOWN
DEPTHS," "DINEVAH THE BEAUTIFUL," "JENNIE BARLOWE," "GHOSTLY PHENOMENA,"
"MRS. E.M. WARD'S REMINISCENCES," ETC. ETC.
LONDON
WILLIAM RIDER & SON, LTD.
CATHEDRAL HOUSE, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
1913
_First Published November, 1913._
PREFACE
If human beings, with all their vices, have a future life, assuredly
animals, who in character so often equal, nay, excel human beings, have
a future life also.
Those who in the Scriptures find a key to all things, can find nothing
in them to confute this argument. There is no saying of Christ that
justifies one in supposing that man is the only being, whose existence
extends beyond the grave.
Granted, however, merely for the sake of argument, that we have some
ground for the denial of a future existence for animals, consider the
injustice such a denial would involve. Take, for example, the case of
the horse. Harming no one, and without thought of reward, it toils for
man all its life, and when too old to work it is put to death without
even the compensation of a well-earned rest. But if compensation be
God's law,--as I, for one, believe it to be--and also the _raison
d'être_ of a hereafter, then surely the Creator, whose chief claim to
our respect and veneration lies in the fact that He is just and
merciful, will take good care that the horse--the gentle, patient,
never-complaining horse--is well compensated--compensated in a golden
hereafter.
Consider again, the case of another of our four-footed friends--the dog;
the faithful, affectionate, obedient and forgiving dog, the dog who is
so often called upon to stand all sorts of rough treatment, and is shot
or poisoned, if, provoked beyond endurance, he at last rounds on his
persecutors, and bites. And the cat--the timid, peaceful cat who is
mauled, and all but pulled in two by cruel children, and beaten to a
jelly when in sheer agony and fright it scratches. Reflect again, on the
cow and the sheep, fed only to supply our wants; shouted at and kicked,
if, when nearly scared out of their senses, they wander off the track;
and pole-axed, or done to death in some equally atrocious manner when
the sickening demand for flesh food is at its height.
And yet, you say, these innocent, unoffending--and, I say,
martyred--animals are to have no future, no compensation. Monstrous!
Absurd! It is an effrontery to common sense, philosophy--anything,
everything. It is a damned lie, damned bigotry, damned nonsense. The
whole animal world will live again; and it will be man--spoilt,
presumptuous, degenerate man--who will not participate in another life,
unless he very much improves.
Think well over this,--you who preach the gospel of man's
pre-eminence;--you who prate of God and know nothing whatsoever about
Him! The horse, dog, cat,--even the wild animals, whose vices,
perchance, pale beside your own, may go to Heaven before you. The
Supreme Architect is neither a Nero, nor a Stuart, nor a clown. He will
recompense all who deserve recompense, be they great or small--biped or
quadruped.
It is to testify to a future existence for animals and to create a wider
interest in it that I have undertaken to compile this book; and my
object, I think, can best be achieved in my own way, the way of the
investigator of haunted places. The mere fact that there are
manifestations of "dead" people (pardon the paradox) proves some kind of
life after death for human beings; and happily the same proof is
available with regard a future life for animals; indeed there are as
many animal phantasms as human--perhaps more; hence, if the human being
lives again, so do his dumb friends.
Be comforted then, you who love your pets, and have been kind to them.
You will see them all again, on the soft undying pasture lands of your
Elysium and theirs.
Be warned, you--you who have despised animals, and have been cruel to
them. Who knows but that, in your future life, you may be as they are
now--in subjection?
* * * * *
My task in writing this book has been considerably lightened by the
extreme courtesy and kindness of Mr. Shirley, Mr. Eveleigh Nash, and the
Proprietors of the _Review of Reviews_, in allowing me to make use of
extracts and quotations from their most valuable works.
ELLIOTT O'DONNELL.
CONTENTS
PART I
CHAPTER I
CATS
PAGE
The Black Cat of the Old Manor House, Oxenby--Correspondence _re_ Cat
Phantasms--The Headless Cat of No. ----, Lower Seedley Road, Seedley,
Manchester--The Cat on the Post--Mystic Properties of Cats 3
CHAPTER II
DOGS
The Case of James Durham--The Grey Dog of ---- House, Birmingham--The
Dog in the Cupboard--How the Ghost of a Dog saved Life--A Precentor's
Adventure--Phantom Dog seen on Souter Fell--The Jumping Ghost--Dogs seen
before a Death--A Dog scared by a Canine Ghost--The Phantom Dachshund of
W---- Street, London, W.--An ALL Hallow Eve Ghost--The Strange
Disappearance of Mr. Jeremiah Dance--Phantasms of Living Dogs--The
Yellow Dog of K---- University--National Ghosts in the form of Dogs--The
Mauthe Doog--Spectral Hounds 57
CHAPTER III
HORSES AND THE UNKNOWN
A Phantom Cavalcade--The Miller on the Grey Horse--A Phantom Horse
and Rider--The White Horse of Eastover--The Afrikander's Story--Heralds
of Death--Phantom Coach in U.S.A.--A Story from Marseilles--Summary of
Horses--Phantasms of Living Horses--Horses and the Psychic Faculty of
Scent--Phantom Policeman and Horse--Phantom Huntsmen and Horses 139
CHAPTER IV
BULLS, COWS, PIGS, ETC.
The Kirk-grim--Phantasm of a Goat--Phantom Hogs of the Moat
Grange--Sheep--Spectre Flock of Sheep in Germany 212
PART II
CHAPTER V
WILD ANIMALS AND THE UNKNOWN
Animal Phantasms and the Moon--The Case of Martin Tristram--Phantasms of
Cat and Ape--Hauntings by a White Rabbit--John Wesley's Ghost--Psychic
Faculty in Hares and Rabbits 223
CHAPTER VI
INHABITANTS OF THE JUNGLE
Elephants, Lions, Tigers, etc.--The White Tiger--Jungle Animals and
Psychic Faculties 254
PART III
CHAPTER VII
BIRDS AND THE UNKNOWN
Case from _Occult Review_--Bird Hauntings in Russia--Hauntings in
the Country Church--Capt. Morgan's Experiences--Addenda--Old Authorities
on Bird Omens 273
CHAPTER VIII
A BRIEF RETROSPECT 300
PART I
DOMESTIC ANIMALS AND THEIR ASSOCIATIONS WITH THE UNKNOWN
ANIMAL GHOSTS
CHAPTER I
CATS
In opening this volume on Animals and their associations with the
unknown, I will commence with a case of hauntings in the Old Manor
House, at Oxenby.
My informant was a Mrs. Hartnoll, whom I can see in my mind's eye, as
distinctly as if I were looking at her now. Hers was a personality that
no lapse of time, nothing could efface; a personality that made itself
felt on boys of all temperaments, most of all, of course, on those
who--like myself--were highly strung and sensitive.
She was classical mistress at L.'s, the then well-known dame school in
Clifton, where for three years--prior to migrating to a Public School--I
was well grounded in all the mysticisms of Kennedy's Latin Primer and
Smith's First Greek Principia.
I doubt if she got anything more than a very small salary--governesses
in those days were shockingly remunerated--and I know,--poor soul, she
had to work monstrously hard. Drumming Latin and Greek into heads as
thick as ours was no easy task.
But there were times, when the excessive tension on the nerves proving
too much, Mrs. Hartnoll stole a little relaxation; when she allowed
herself to chat with us, and even to smile--Heavens! those smiles! And
when--I can feel the tingling of my pulses at the bare mention of
it--she spoke about herself, stated she had once been young--a
declaration so astounding, so utterly beyond our comprehension, that we
were rendered quite speechless--and told us anecdotes.
Of many of her narratives I have no recollection, but one or two, which
interested me more than the rest, are almost as fresh in my mind as when
recounted. The one that appealed to me most, and which I have every
reason to believe is absolutely true,[1] is as follows:--I give it as
nearly as I can in her own somewhat stilted style:--
"Up to the age of nineteen, I resided with my parents in the Manor
House, Oxenby. It was an old building, dating back, I believe, to the
reign of Edward VI, and had originally served as the residence of noble
families. Built, or, rather, faced with split flints, and edged and
buttressed with cut grey stone, it had a majestic though very gloomy
appearance, and seen from afar resembled nothing so much as a huge and
grotesquely decorated sarcophagus. In the centre of its frowning and
menacing front was the device of a cat, constructed out of black
shingles, and having white shingles for the eyes; the effect being
curiously realistic, especially on moonlight nights, when anything more
lifelike and sinister could scarcely have been conceived. The artist,
whoever he was, had a more than human knowledge of cats--he portrayed
not merely their bodies but their souls.
[Footnote 1: I have subsequently met several people who experienced the
same phenomena in the house, which was standing a short time ago.]
"In style the front of the house was somewhat castellated. Two
semicircular bows, or half towers, placed at a suitable distance from
each other, rose from the base to the summit of the edifice, to the
height of four or five stairs; and were pierced, at every floor, with
rows of stone-mullioned windows. The flat wall between had larger
windows, lighting the great hall, gallery, and upper apartments. These
windows were wholly composed of stained glass, engraved with every
imaginable fantastic design--imps, satyrs, dragons, witches,
queer-shaped trees, hands, eyes, circles, triangles and cats.
"The towers, half included in the building, were completely circular
within, and contained the winding stairs of the mansion; and whoever
ascended them when a storm was raging seemed rising by a whirlwind to
the clouds.
"In the upper rooms even the wildest screams of the hurricane were
drowned in the rattling clamour of the assaulted casements. When a gale
of wind took the building in front, it rocked it to the foundations,
and, at such times, threatened its instant demolition.
"Midway between the towers there stood forth a heavy stone porch with a
Gothic gateway, surmounted by a battlemented parapet, made gable
fashion, the apex of which was garnished by a pair of dolphins, rampant
and antagonistic, whose corkscrew tails seemed contorted--especially at
night--by the last agonies of rage convulsed. The porch doors stood
open, except in tremendous weather; the inner ones were regularly shut
and barred after all who entered. They led into a wide vaulted and lofty
hall, the walls of which were decorated with faded tapestry, that rose,
and fell, and rustled in the most mysterious fashion every time there
was the suspicion--and often barely the suspicion--of a breeze.
"Interspersed with the tapestry--and in great contrast to its
antiquity--were quite modern and very ordinary portraits of my family.
The general fittings and furniture, both of the hall and house, were
sombre and handsome--truss-beams, corbels, girders and panels were of
the blackest oak; and the general effect of all this, augmented, if
anything, by the windows, which were too high and narrow to admit of
much light, was much the same as that produced by the interior of a
subterranean chapel or charnel house.
"From the hall proceeded doorways and passages, more than my memory can
now particularize. Of these portals, one at each end conducted to the
tower stairs, others to reception rooms and domestic offices.
"The whole of the house being too large for us, only one wing--the right
and newer of the two--was occupied, the other was unfurnished, and
generally shut up. I say generally because there were times when either
my mother or father--the servants never ventured there--forgot to lock
the doors, and the handles yielding to my daring fingers, I
surreptitiously crept in.
"Everywhere--even in daylight, even on the sunniest of mornings--were
dark shadows that hung around the ingles and recesses of the rooms, the
deep cupboards, the passages, and silent, winding staircases.
"There was one corridor--long, low, vaulted--where these shadows
assembled in particular. I can see them now, as I saw them then, as they
have come to me many times in my dreams, grouped about the doorways,
flitting to and fro on the bare, dismal boards, and congregated in
menacing clusters at the head of the sepulchral staircase leading to the
cellars. Generally, and excepting at times when the weather was
particularly violent, the silence here was so emphatic that I could
never feel it was altogether natural, but rather that it was assumed
especially for my benefit--to intimidate me. If I moved, if I coughed,
almost if I breathed, the whole passage was filled with hoarse
reverberating echoes, that, in my affrighted ears, appeared to terminate
in a series of mirthless, malevolent chuckles. Once, when fascinated
beyond control, I stole on tiptoe along the passage, momentarily
expecting a door to fly open and something grim and horrible to pounce
out on me, I was brought to a standstill by a loud, clanging noise, as
if a pail or some such utensil were set down very roughly on a stone
floor. Then there was the sound of rushing footsteps and of someone
hastily ascending the cellar staircase. In fearful anticipation as to
what I should see--for there was something in the sounds that told me
they were not made by anything human--I stood in the middle of the
passage and stared. Up, up, up they came, until I saw the dark,
indefinite shape of something very horrid, but which I could not--I dare
not--define. It was accompanied by the clanging of a pail. I tried to
scream, but my tongue cleaving to the roof of my mouth prevented my
uttering a syllable, and when I essayed to move, I found I was
temporarily paralysed. The thing came rushing down on me. I grew icy
cold all over, and when it was within a few feet of me, my horror was so
great, I fainted.
"On recovering consciousness, it was some minutes before I summoned up
courage to open my eyes, but when I did so, they alighted on nothing but
the empty passage--the thing had disappeared.
"On another occasion, when I was clandestinely paying a visit to the
unused wing, and was in the act of mounting one of the staircases
leading from the corridor, I have just described, to the first floor,
there was the sound of a furious scuffle overhead, and something dashed
down the stairs past me. I instinctively looked up, and there, glaring
down at me from over the balustrade, was a very white face. It was that
of a man, but very badly proportioned--the forehead being low and
receding, and the rest of the face too long and narrow. The crown rose
to a kind of peak, the ears were pointed and set very low down and far
back. The mouth was very cruel and thin-lipped; the teeth were yellow
and uneven. There was no hair on the face, but that on the head was red
and matted. The eyes were obliquely set, pale blue, and full of an
expression so absolutely malignant that every atom of blood in my veins
seemed to congeal as I met their gaze. I could not clearly see the body
of the thing, as it was hazy and indistinct, but the impression I got of
it was that it was clad in some sort of tight-fitting, fantastic
garment. As the landing was in semi-darkness, and the face at all events
was most startlingly visible, I concluded it brought with it a light of
its own, though there was none of that lurid glow attached to it, which
I subsequently learned is almost inseparable from spirit phenomena seen
under similar conditions.
"For some seconds, I was too overcome with terror to move, but my
faculties at length reasserting themselves, I turned round and flew to
the other wing of the house with the utmost precipitation.
"One would have thought that after these experiences nothing would have
induced me to have run the risk of another such encounter, yet only a
few days after the incident of the head, I was again impelled by a
fascination I could not withstand to visit the same quarters. In sickly
anticipation of what my eyes would alight on, I stole to the foot of the
staircase and peeped cautiously up. To my infinite joy there was nothing
there but a bright patch of sunshine, that, in the most unusual fashion,
had forced its way through from one of the slits of windows near at
hand.
"After gazing at it long enough to assure myself it was only sunshine, I
quitted the spot, and proceeded on my way down the vaulted corridor.
Just as I was passing one of the doors, it opened. I stopped--terrified.
What could it be? Bit by bit, inch by inch, I watched the gap slowly
widen. At last, just as I felt I must either go mad or die, something
appeared--and, to my utter astonishment, it was a big, black cat!
Limping painfully, it came towards me with a curious, gliding motion,
and I perceived with a thrill of horror that it had been very cruelly
maltreated. One of its eyes looked as if it had been gouged out--its
ears were lacerated, whilst the paw of one of its hind-legs had either
been torn or hacked off. As I drew back from it, it made a feeble and
pathetic effort to reach me and rub itself against my legs, as is the
way with cats, but in so doing it fell down, and uttering a half purr,
half gurgle, vanished--seeming to sink through the hard oak boards.
"That evening my youngest brother met with an accident in the barn at
the back of the house, and died. Though I did not then associate his
death with the apparition of the cat, the latter shocked me much, for I
was extremely fond of animals. I did not dare venture in the wing again
for nearly two years.
"When next I did so, it was early one June morning--between five and
six, and none of the family, saving my father, who was out in the fields
looking after his men, were as yet up. I explored the dreaded corridor
and staircase, and was crossing the floor of one of the rooms I had
hitherto regarded as immune from ghostly influences, when there was an
icy rush of wind, the door behind me slammed to violently, and a heavy
object struck me with great force in the hollow of my back. With a cry
of surprise and agony I turned sharply round, and there, lying on the
floor, stretched out in the last convulsions of death, was the big black
cat, maimed and bleeding as it had been on the previous occasion. How I
got out of the room I don't recollect. I was too horror-stricken to know
exactly what I was doing, but I distinctly remember that, as I tugged
the door open, there was a low, gleeful chuckle, and something slipped
by me and disappeared in the direction of the corridor. At noon that day
my mother had a seizure of apoplexy, and died at midnight.
"Again there was a lapse of years--this time nearly four--when, sent on
an errand for my father, I turned the key of one of the doors leading
into the empty wing, and once again found myself within the haunted
precincts. All was just as it had been on the occasion of my last
visit--gloom, stillness and cobwebs reigned everywhere, whilst
permeating the atmosphere was a feeling of intense sadness and
depression.
"I did what was required of me as quickly as possible, and was crossing
one of the rooms to make my exit, when a dark shadow fell athwart the
threshold of the door, and I saw the cat.
* * * * *
"That evening my father dropped dead as he was hastening home through
the fields. He had long suffered from heart disease.
"After his death we--that is to say, my brother, sisters and self--were
obliged to leave the house and go out into the world to earn our living.
We never went there again, and never heard if any of the subsequent
tenants experienced similar manifestations."
This is as nearly as I can recollect Mrs. Hartnoll's story. But as it is
a good many years since I heard it, there is just a possibility of some
of the details--the smaller ones at all events--having escaped my
memory.
When I was grown up, I stayed for a few weeks near Oxenby, and met, at a
garden party, a Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, the then occupants of the Manor
House.
I asked if they believed in ghosts, and told them I had always heard
their house was haunted.
"Well," they said, "we never believed in ghosts till we came to Oxenby,
but we have seen and heard such strange things since we have been in the
Manor House that we are now prepared to believe anything."
They then went on to tell me that they--and many of their visitors and
servants--had seen the phantasms of a very hideous and malignant old
man, clad in tight-fitting hosiery of mediæval days, and a maimed and
bleeding big, black cat, that seemed sometimes to drop from the ceiling,
and sometimes to be thrown at them. In one of the passages all sorts of
queer sounds, such as whinings, meanings, screeches, clangings of pails
and rattlings of chains, were heard, whilst something, no one could ever
see distinctly, but which they all felt to be indescribably nasty,
rushed up the cellar steps and flew past, as if engaged in a desperate
chase. Indeed, the disturbances were of so constant and harrowing a
nature, that the wing had to be vacated and was eventually locked up.
The Wheelers excavated in different parts of the haunted wing and found,
in the cellar, at a depth of some eight or nine feet, the skeletons of
three men and two women; whilst in the wainscoting of the passage they
discovered the bones of a boy, all of which remains they had properly
interred in the churchyard. According to local tradition, handed down
through many centuries by word of mouth, the house originally belonged
to a knight, who, with his wife, was killed out hunting. He had only one
child, a boy of about ten, who became a ward in chancery. The man
appointed by the Crown as guardian to this child proved an inhuman
monster, and after ill-treating the lad in every conceivable manner,
eventually murdered him and tried to substitute a bastard boy of his own
in his place. For a time the fraud succeeded, but on its being
eventually found out, the murderer and his offspring were both brought
to trial and hanged.
During his occupation of the house, many people were seen to enter the
premises, but never leave them, and the place got the most sinister
reputation. Among other deeds credited to the murderer and his
offspring was the mutilation and boiling of a cat--the particular pet of
the young heir, who was compelled to witness the whole revolting
process. Years later, a subsequent owner of the property had a monument
erected in the churchyard to the memory of this poor, abused child, and
on the front of the house constructed the device of the cat.
Though it is impossible to determine what amount of truth there may be
in this tradition, it certainly seems to accord with the hauntings, and
to supply some sort of explanation to them. The ghostly head on the
banisters might well be that of the low and brutal guardian, whose
spirit would be the exact counterpart of his mind. The figure seen, and
noises heard in the passage, point to the re-enaction of some tragedy,
possibly the murder of the heir, or the slaughter of his cat, in either
of which a bucket might easily have played a grimly significant part.
And if human murderers and their victims have phantasms, why should not
animals have phantasms too? Why should not the phenomenon of the cat
seen by Mrs. Hartnoll and the Wheelers have been the actual phantasm of
an earthbound cat?
No amount of reasoning--religious or otherwise--has as yet annihilated
the possibility of all forms of earthly life possessing spirits.
LETTER FROM MY WIFE
I heard the foregoing account from my husband when first I met him years
ago, and I know it to be true. I have seen the rooms, etc. in the Old
Manor House, Oxenby, where the incidents Mrs. Hartnoll mentions took
place.
ADA B. O'DONNELL.
_July_ 2, 1913.
To further substantiate my views with regard to a future existence for
animals, I reproduce (by permission of the Editor) the following letters
and articles that have appeared from time to time in the _Occult
Review_:--
Letter 1
_That other Cat_
One evening about four years ago I was in my drawing-room with two
friends; we were all standing up on the point of going to bed, and only
waiting till the old cook had succeeded in inducing the grey Persian cat
to come in for the night. This was sometimes difficult, and then cook
came up as on this occasion and called him from the balcony, and the
French window was wide open, when a cat rushed in at the window and
through the door.
"What was that?" we said, looking at one another. It was not Kitty, the
grey Persian, but darker, and was it really a cat, or what? My friend
"Rügen" has written the account of what she saw before seeing what I
have said. "Iona" confirms our description. What I saw seemed dark and
shadowy and yet unmistakably a cat. It seemed to me like the predecessor
of Kitty, which was a black Persian; he had the same habit of coming in
at night by this window, and he constantly rushed through the room, and
downstairs, being in a hurry for his supper. A moment or two afterwards
the grey cat walked slowly in, and though we searched the house, we
could find no other.
"THANET."
Letter 2
_Fräulein Mullet's Story_
Three or four years ago, Iona and I were sitting in the drawing-room on
a Sunday evening, when cook came in to ask for Kitty (a silver-grey
Persian cat) to settle him in the kitchen for the night. Kitty was still
in the garden, and cook went to the balcony calling him.
Suddenly I saw a black cat flying in and disappearing behind or under a
seat. First, I did not take much notice of this. But when a minute after
Kitty slowly and solemnly stepped in, followed by cook, it struck me
that the dark something could not have been Kitty, and Thanet and Iona
made the remark simultaneously. Now we began to look for the dark one
all over the place without any result. Cook had not seen any cat passing
her on the balcony, but Kitty the grey one. Thanet had had a black
Persian cat, which died before Kitty came.
"RÜGEN."
Letter 3
I can entirely corroborate the accounts written by "Thanet" and "Rügen."
I remember that I saw something like a dark shadow move very quickly and
disappear in front of a cottage piano. I exclaimed simultaneously with
my friends "What was that?" and shared their surprise when no black cat
was found, and the grey Persian walked in unconcernedly through the open
window.
"IONA."
Letter 4
_What Kitty saw_
Cook said, "I wish you would come downstairs and see how strangely Kitty
behaves as soon as I open the cupboard. There is nothing in it but the
wood; I turned it all out to see what might be the reason--not even a
mousehole can I find." Some days previously cook had told me that
nothing could induce Kitty to sleep in his basket, and one day he would
not eat any food in the kitchen, and his meals had to be given him
outside. So I went down to please cook. Kitty was picked up, and while
cook petted and stroked him, she knelt down and opened the cupboard.
Kitty, stretching his neck and looking with big, frightened eyes into
the cupboard's corner, suddenly turned round; struggling out of cook's
hold and rushing over her shoulder, he flew out of the kitchen. Getting
up, Cook said: "That's always what he does, just as if he was seeing
something horrible!"
Next day I encouraged cook to talk of Ruff, the former black cat, which
had been a great favourite of hers, and which she had been nursing when
he was dying. "Oh, poor thing, when he was ill, he would creep into dark
corners, so I put him in his basket into the cupboard, making it very
comfortable for him, and there he died"--pointing to the very corner
which caused such horror to Kitty.
"RÜGEN."
Letter 5
_Captain Humphries's Story--A Materialized Cat_
My son had the following experience at the age of four years in our
Worcestershire home.
He was an only child and spent much of his time in the company of a cat
who shared his tastes and pursuits even to the extent of fishing in the
River Weir with him, the cat being far more proficient at the sport than
the boy. When the cat died we none of us dared to break the news to the
child, and were much surprised when he asked us to say why his cat only
came to play with him at nights nowadays. When we questioned him about
it, he stoutly maintained that his cat was there in bodily form every
night after he went to bed, looking much the same but a little thinner.
At about the same age, one evening after being in bed one hour, I heard
him cry out, and going upstairs (his maid also heard and ran up) and
asking him what was the matter, he said that an old gentleman with a
long grey beard like his grandfather came into his room, and stood at
the front of his bed. At the very moment, the former had a seizure in
his carriage while driving through the streets of Birmingham, from which
he died without regaining consciousness; later on he recognized a
photograph of his grandfather as being the person he saw at the foot of
his bed. My wife, the maid, and myself can vouch for the accuracy of
these statements, also friends to whom we have related these facts.
"MUNSTER."
Letter 6
_Mrs. E.J. Ellis's Story--"The Old Woman's Cat"_
My wife, writes Mr. Ellis, who was brought up in Germany, and who is not
sufficiently confident about her English to attempt to put down anything
for publication in that language, tells me the following story for the
_Occult Review_:--
"When I was a little girl living with my family near Michelstadt in the
Odenwald, I remember an old woman like an old witch, whose name was
Louise, and who was called 'Pfeiffe Louise,' because she exhibited pipes
for sale in her cottage window, along with the cheap dress-stuffs,
needles and threads, and simple toys for children which were her
stock-in-trade. She had a favourite cat which was devoted to her, but
its attachment doesn't seem to have been enough to make her happy, for
she married a young sergeant named Lautenschlager, who might have been
her son--or indeed her grandson--and who, as everyone said, courted her
for her money. She died as long ago as 1869, and during her last illness
the devoted cat was always with her. It kept watch beside the body when
she was dead, and refused to be driven away. In a fit of exasperation
Lautenschlager seized it, carried it off, and drowned it in the little
River Mumling, at a place where the road from Michelstadt to the
neighbouring village Steinbach runs near the water's edge. It was
bordered with poplars then, but chestnut trees shade it now.
"Soon after his first wife was buried Lautenschlager married again, and
opened an eating-house in Steinbach, where he established his second
wife. He had a sister whom he placed in the cottage of poor 'Pfeiffe
Louise.' She carried on the business, and every day Lautenschlager used
to walk over from Steinbach to see how she was getting on, returning in
the evening to his wife, who used to relate to my mother that he
frequently came home terrified and bathed in perspiration, for as he
passed the place where he had drowned the cat, its ghost used to come
out of the river and run beside him along the dark road, sometimes
terrifying him still more by jumping in front of him.
"After a few years of married life the second wife died, and
Lautenschlager married a third. The little cottage business had
prospered, and in its place he now had a considerable draper's shop in
Michelstadt. He continued to walk over from Steinbach, where now the
third wife lived in the eating-house, and the ghost of the cat continued
to frighten him by appearing at nightfall as he walked beside the river.
"I can remember hearing his third wife describe his dread of it, and my
mother has told me how both the sister and the second wife used to say
the same thing, though I was too young then for them to tell me about
it. Lautenschlager used also to complain to the country people who came
to dine at his eating-house. He considered himself an ill-used man, and
felt that the supernatural powers were treating him very hardly, and
subjecting him to a real persecution. I have only the conversation of
his wife and the gossip of the village to vouch for his sincerity, and
the genuineness of the apparition is supported only by Lautenschlager's
word, but his evident anger and agitation were accepted as genuine, and
no one dreamed of doubting his word. He was not at all a dreamy or
imaginative man, and did not drink. His passion was merely momentary. He
was not only a draper and caterer but a usurer, and realized something
of a fortune by lending money on good security to peasants and farmers
who, it was said, did not consider how they bound themselves when they
signed the papers he put before them.
"Lautenschlager continued to be haunted by the cat-ghost at irregular
intervals for more than twenty years, and it made a marked change in his
character. He became serious, and during the latter part of his life
would only talk about religion and read sacred literature. He died about
ten years ago."
"FELINE."
Letter 7
_A Spectral Fox-terrier_
Two or three years ago I visited a medium (Mrs. Davies of 44 Laburnum
Grove, Portsmouth). I had been seated only a few minutes when a little
pug-dog of hers looked up in the direction of my knees and down towards
my feet, growling and howling in a most strange manner.
"What on earth is he looking at?" I exclaimed.
"Oh," said the medium, "there is a little fox-terrier lying across your
feet; one half of his face is quite dark and the other half white, but
he has such a peculiar black patch over the eye that one would almost
think it was a black bruise." Now, sir, I had such a little dog in
India, but this lady did not know of him, and would never have known had
he not, as I afterwards found, died out there. This is not only a case
of the appearance of an animal after death, but also a case in which it
was seen by another animal, as also by the medium. I am also told that
the pug-dog who had this vision of my dog was once seen to pounce upon
what seemed to the medium to be several cats, near the copper in the
scullery of the same house. The medium asked a neighbour if the previous
occupants had had any cats. "Oh, yes," replied the neighbour, "and badly
the poor things were served, for they were cruelly thrown into the
copper, which was full of boiling water."
"SIMLA" (M. Conder).
Letter 8
_Killed by a Street Car, but walks in at the Front Door_
Some five years ago we had a little puppy about six months old. I used
to train him to always go round the back way to come into the house. One
day he got hurt and run over, being instantly killed by a street car. A
day or two after the accident I was going in my front door and I saw the
dog go up the steps in front of me, as plain as I ever saw him in my
life. It seemed he knew that I had taught him he must not go in the
front way, because he would go a few steps and then turn round and look
at me, as though he wanted to see how I was taking it, and I positively
saw him go to the full length of the hall into the house, a distance of
about twenty feet, before he disappeared. I saw him do this at least
three times in two months that we stayed in that flat. I told at least a
half-dozen people of the incident at the time it happened, and I can
vouch for its authenticity.
I remain, yours truly,
"MAJILTON"
(Chas. A. Thompson, Chicago, Ill., U.S.A.).
Letter 9
_Mrs. Vincent Taylor's Experience. A Spirit Purr_
One evening in February, 1906, my son and I were quietly reading, in
full gaslight, our small grey cat lying on the sofa a short distance
from where I sat. Suddenly I saw on my knee a large red and white cat
which belonged to us in India, which was a very dear family friend and
as fond of us as a child.
On leaving India we were obliged to give him to a friend, and in the end
he shared the usual fate of pets in that country, making a meal for some
wild animal.
"Rufie-Oofie," in his spirit shape, purred vigorously, rubbing his head
against me and giving every sign of delight at seeing us again. I did
not speak, but in a few minutes my son looked up and said, "Mother,
Rufie-Oofie is on your knee," when the spirit cat jumped down and went
to him to be petted. Then he returned to me, and walked along the sofa
to where our present cat, "Kim," was asleep. The spirit cat, with a look
of almost human fun, patted Kim's head, the latter awaking with a start.
Rufie-Oofie continued to make playful dabs at Kim's ears, Kim following
each movement with glaring eyes, distinctly seeing and realizing that
another cat was invading his sofa, but not in the least angry with him
and quite ready to play. After a few minutes the spirit cat came back to
my knee, whereupon the earth cat displayed jealousy which Rufie-Oofie
resented, but before they came to actual "words" the spirit cat retired
behind the veil.
"ARJÜNA."
Letter 10
SIR,
The following notes of psychological experiences with animals may be of
interest:--
I had a collie who lived to a good old age. She was deaf and infirm, and
one hind-leg was paralysed, so that it dragged as she walked. I was
taken ill, not seriously, nor so as in any way to affect my brain, but
as my poor old dog would insist on coming and lying in my room the
doctor insisted on her being destroyed. I felt that her life was no
pleasure to her, and she was killed with chloroform. Three days
afterwards in the afternoon I heard her come upstairs with her dragging
hind-leg. I heard her steps come along the long passage which had my
room at the end, and lost them about half-way up. On the third day I
called her and spoke to her, putting out my hand as if she would come
and put her head under it, and told her all was right. I never heard her
any more.
I believe that on one occasion she told me by thought transference that
she had no water in her pan. The pan was always filled, and I knew that
she wanted something, but thought of all other wants but water. She made
her eyes protrude, and looked at me intently, and "water" flashed into
my mind. I looked and found the pan empty. It is, of course, possible
that the suggestion came from my own subconscious mind. I never saw the
aura of a human being, but I once had a kind of vision of this dog,
which experts have told me was her aura. I was sitting by the fire,
somewhat somnolent, and he was lying on the hearthrug. All at once his
golden brown coat disappeared, and I saw a mass of reddish brown or
perhaps I should say brownish red, and on one side of it was an
irregular patch of fleecy white, bordered with sapphire blue. I was told
that the brownish red represented the dog's animal instincts, the pearly
white his animal innocence, and the sapphire blue his devotional
instinct, in his case directed to me as his deity. Whether any of your
readers have had similar experiences and explain them similarly, I do
not know.
I had to go abroad one summer and my dog was ill with eczema, and as I
did not very much trust the maid I was leaving in charge, I sent him to
the vet's to be treated. As soon as I reached my destination I wrote to
a friend to go and inquire how he was. She replied that the dog was
perfectly miserable, and that he had an enormous wound on his back, that
he had eaten nothing for a week, that he was too weak to stand, and that
if he were hers, she would have him put out of his misery at once. I
wrote at once to the vet, telling him to telegraph "Curable" or
"Hopeless," and to act accordingly. Meanwhile, I sat that afternoon in
the Bürgerpark by myself and imagined the dog upon my lap, and myself
stroking and healing him. After this I found myself fully believing that
he would get better. The telegram I received was "Curable," and my
friend wrote a second letter and said it was a miracle, for the dog was
quite convalescent. He recovered perfectly. Here, again, however, it may
have been that he was breaking his heart for a friend, and that my
friend's visit cheered him. Or may not both causes have had their
effect?
"AMBROSE ZAIL MARTYN."
Here is another case in the veracity of which I have every confidence. I
will call it
_The Headless Cat of No. ---- Lower Seedley Road, Seedley, Manchester_
It was related to me by Mr. Robert Dane, who was at one time a tenant of
No. ---- Lower Seedley Road, Seedley. I quote it as nearly as possible
in his words, thus:--
"When we--my wife and I--took No. ---- Lower Seedley Road, no
possibility of the place being haunted crossed our minds. Indeed ghosts
were the very last things we reckoned on, as neither of us had the
slightest belief in them. Like the generality of solicitors, I am stodgy
and unimaginative, whilst my wife is the most practical and
matter-of-fact little woman you would meet in a day's march. Nor was
there anything about the house that in any way suggested the
superphysical. It was airy and light--no dark corners nor sinister
staircases--and equipped throughout with all modern conveniences. We
began our lease in June--the hottest June I remember--and nothing
occurred to disturb us till October.
"It happened then in this wise. I will quote from my diary:--
"_Monday, October 11th_.--Dick--that is my brother-in-law--and I, at 11
p.m., were sitting smoking and chatting together in the study. All the
rest of the household had gone to bed. We had no light in the room--as
Dick had a headache--save the fire, and that had burned so low that its
feeble glimmering scarcely enabled us to see each other's face. After a
space of sudden and thoughtful silence, Dick took the stump of a cigar
from his lips and threw it in the grate, where for a few moments it lay
glowing in the gloom.
"'Jack,' he said, 'you will think me mad, but there is something deuced
queer about this room to-night--something in the atmosphere I cannot
define, but which I have never felt here--or indeed anywhere--before.
Look at that cigar-end--look!'
"I did so, and received a shock. What I saw was certainly not the stump
Dick had had in his mouth, but an eye--a large, red and lurid eye--that
looked up at us with an expression of the utmost hate.
"Dick raised the shovel and struck at it, but without effect--it still
glared at us. A great horror then seized us, and unable to remove our
gaze from the hellish thing, we sat glued to our chairs staring at it.
This state of affairs lasted till the clock in the hall outside struck
twelve, when the eye suddenly vanished, and we both felt as if some
intensely evil influence had been suddenly removed.
"Dick did not like the idea of sleeping alone, and asked if he might
keep the electric light on in his room all night. Tremendous
extravagance, but under the circumstances excusable. I confess I
devoutly wished it was morning.
"_Tuesday, October 12th._--I was awakened at 11.30 p.m. by Delia saying
to me, 'Oh, Edward, there have been such dreadful noises on the landing,
just as if a cat were being worried to death by dogs. Hark! there it is
again.' And as she spoke, from apparently just outside the door, came a
series of loud screeches, accompanied by savage growls and snarls.
"Not knowing what to make of it, as we had no animals of our own in the
house, but concluding that a door or window having been left open, a dog
and cat had got in from outside, I lit a candle, and opened the bedroom
door. Instantly the sounds ceased and there was dead silence, and
although I searched everywhere, not a vestige of any animal was to be
seen. Moreover all the doors leading into the garden were shut and
locked, and the windows closed. Not wishing to frighten Delia, I
laughingly assured her the cat--a black Tom--was all right, that it was
sitting on the roof of the summer-house, looking none the worse for its
treatment, and that I had sent the dog--a terrier--flying out of the
gate with a well-deserved kick. I explained it was my fault about the
front door being left open--my brain had been a bit overstrained through
excessive work--and asked her on no account to blame the servants. I
grow alarmed at times when I realize how easy lawyering makes lying.
"_Friday, October 21st._--On my way to bed last night I encountered a
rush of icy cold air at the first bend of the staircase. The candle
flared up, a bright blue flame, and went out. Something--an animal of
sorts--came tearing down the stairs past me, and on peering over the
banisters, I saw, looking up at me from the well of darkness beneath,
two big red eyes, the counterparts of the one Dick and I had seen on
October 11th. I threw a matchbox at them, but without effect. It was
only when I switched on the electric light that they disappeared. I
searched the house most carefully, but there were no signs of any
animal. Joined Delia, feeling nervous and henpecky.
"_Monday, November 7th._--Tom and Mable came running into Delia's room
in a great state of excitement after tea to-day. 'Mother!' they cried,
'Mother! Do come! Some horrid dog has got a cat in the spare room and is
tearing it to pieces.' Delia, who was mending my socks at the time,
flung them anywhere, and springing to her feet, flew to the spare room.
The door was shut, but proceeding from within was the most appalling
pandemonium of screeches and snarls, just as if some dog had got hold of
a cat by the neck and was shaking it to death. Delia swung open the door
and rushed in. The room was empty--not a trace of a cat or dog
anywhere--and the sounds ceased! On my return home Delia met me in the
garden. 'Jack!' she said, 'I have probed the mystery at last. The house
is haunted! We must leave.'
"_Saturday, November 12th._--Sublet house to James Barstow, retired oil
merchant, to-day. He comes in on the 30th. Hope he'll like it!
"_Tuesday, November 15th._--Cook left to-day. 'I've no fault to find
with you, mum,' she condescendingly explained to Delia. 'It's not you,
nor the children, nor the food. It's the noises at night--screeches
outside my door, which sound like a cat, but which I know can't be a
cat, as there is no cat in the house. This morning, mum, shortly after
the clock struck two, things came to a climax. Hearing something in the
corner and wondering if it was a mouse--I ain't a bit afraid of mice,
mum--I sat up in bed and was getting ready to strike a light--the
matchbox was in my hand--when something heavy sprang right on the top of
me and gave a loud growl in my ear. That finished me, mum--I fainted.
When I came to myself, I was too frightened to stir, but lay with my
head under the blankets till it was time to get up. I then searched
everywhere, but there was no sign of any dog, and as the door was locked
there was no possibility of any dog having got in during the night. Mum,
I wouldn't go through what I suffered again for fifty pounds; I've got
palpitations even now; and I would rather go without my month's wages
than sleep in that room another night.' Delia paid her up to date, and
she went directly after tea.
"_Friday, November 18th._--As I was coming out of the bathroom at 11
p.m. something fell into the bath with a loud splash. I turned to see
what it was--there was nothing there. I ran up the stairs to bed, three
steps at a time!
"_Sunday, November 20th._--Went to church in the morning and heard the
usual Oxford drawl. On the way back I was pondering over the sermon and
wishing I could contort the Law as successfully as parsons contort the
Scriptures, when Dot--she is six to-day--came running up to me with a
very scared expression in her eyes. 'Father,' she cried, plucking me by
the sleeve, 'do hurry up. Mother is very ill.' Full of dreadful
anticipations, I tore home, and on arriving found Delia lying on the
sofa in a violent fit of hysterics. It was fully an hour before she
recovered sufficiently to tell me what had happened. Her account runs
thus:--
"'After you went to church,' she began, 'I made the custard pudding,
jelly and blancmange for dinner, heard the children their collects, and
had just sat down with the intention of writing a letter to mother, when
I heard a very pathetic mew coming, so I thought, from under the sofa.
Thinking it was some stray cat that had got in through one of the
windows, I tried to entice it out, by calling "Puss, puss," and making
the usual silly noise people do on such occasions. No cat coming out and
the mewing still continuing, I knelt down and peered under the sofa.
There was no cat there. Had it been night I should have been very much
afraid, but I could scarcely reconcile myself to the idea of ghosts
with the room filled with sunshine. Resuming my seat I went on with my
writing, but not for long. The mewing grew nearer. I distinctly heard
something crawl out from under the sofa; there was then a pause, during
which you could have heard the proverbial pin fall, and then something
sprang upon me and dug its claws in my knees. I looked down, and to my
horror and distress, perceived, standing on its hind-legs, pawing my
clothes, a large, tabby cat, without a head--the neck terminating in a
mangled stump. The sight so appalled me that I don't know what happened,
but nurse and the children came in and found me lying on the floor in
hysterics. Can't we leave the house at once?'
"_Wednesday, November 30th._--Left No. ---- Lower Seedley Road at 2 p.m.
Had an awful scurry to get things packed in time, and dread opening
certain of the packing-cases lest we shall find all the crockery
smashed. Just as we were starting Delia cried out that she had left her
reticule behind, and I was despatched in search of it. I searched
everywhere--till I was worn out, for I know what Delia is--and was
leaving the premises in full anticipation of being sent back again, when
there was a loud commotion in the hall, just as if a dog had suddenly
pounced on a cat, and the next moment a large tabby, with the head hewn
away as Delia had described, rushed up to me and tried to spring on to
my shoulders. At this juncture one of the servants cautiously opened the
hall door from without, and informed me I was wanted. The cat instantly
vanished, and, on my reaching the carriage in a state of breathless
haste and trepidation, Delia told me she had found her reticule--she had
been sitting on it all the time!"
In a subsequent note in his diary a year or so later Mr. Dane says:
"After innumerable enquiries _re_ the history of No. ---- Lower Seedley
Road prior to our inhabiting it, I have at length elicited the fact that
twelve years ago a Mr. and Mrs. Barlowe lived there. They had one son,
Arthur, whom they spoilt in the most outrageous fashion, even to the
extent of encouraging him in acts of cruelty. To afford him amusement
they used to buy rats for his dog--a fox-terrier--to worry, and on one
occasion procured a stray cat, which the servants afterwards declared
was mangled in the most shocking manner before being finally destroyed
by Arthur. Here, then, in my opinion, is a very feasible explanation for
the hauntings--the phenomenon seen was the phantasm of the poor,
tortured cat. For if human tragedies are re-enacted by ghosts, why not
animal tragedies too? It is absurd to suppose man has the monopoly of
soul or spirit."
_The Cat on the Post_
In her _Ghosts and Family Legends_ Mrs. Crowe narrates the following
case of a haunting by the phantom of a cat:--
"After the doctor's story, I fear mine will appear too trifling," said
Mrs. M., "but as it is the only circumstance of the kind that ever
happened to myself, I prefer giving it you to any of the many stories I
have heard.
"About fifteen years ago I was staying with some friends at a
magnificent old seat in Yorkshire, and our host being very much crippled
with the gout, was in the habit of driving about the park and
neighbourhood in a low pony phaeton, on which occasions I often
accompanied him. One of our favourite excursions was to the ruins of an
old abbey just beyond the park, and we generally returned by a
remarkably pretty rural lane leading to the village, or rather small
town, of C----.
"One fine summer's evening we had just entered this lane when, seeing
the hedges full of wild flowers, I asked my friend to let me alight and
gather some. I walked before the carriage picking honeysuckles and roses
as I went along, till I came to a gate that led into a field. It was a
common country gate with a post on each side, and on one of these posts
sat a large white cat, the finest animal of the kind I had ever seen;
and as I have a weakness for cats I stopped to admire this sleek, fat
puss, looking so wonderfully comfortable in a very uncomfortable
position, the top of the post, on which it was sitting with its feet
doubled up under it, being out of all proportion to its body, for no
Angola ever rivalled it in size.
"'Come on gently,' I called to my friend; 'here's such a magnificent
cat!' for I feared the approach of the phaeton would startle it away
before he had seen it.
"'Where?' said he, pulling up his horse opposite the gate.
"'There,' said I, pointing to the post. 'Isn't he a beauty? I wonder if
it would let me stroke it?'
"'I see no cat,' said he.
"'There on the post,' said I, but he declared he saw nothing, though
puss sat there in perfect composure during this colloquy.
"'Don't you see the cat, James?' said I in great perplexity to the
groom.
"'Yes, ma'am; a large white cat on that post.'
"I thought my friend must be joking, or losing his eyesight, and I
approached the cat, intending to take it in my arms and carry it to the
carriage; but as I drew near she jumped off the post, which was natural
enough, but to my surprise she jumped into nothing--as she jumped she
disappeared! No cat in the field--none in the lane--none in the ditch!
"'Where did she go, James?'
"'I don't know, ma'am. I can't see her,' said the groom, standing up in
his seat and looking all round.
"I was quite bewildered; but still I had no glimmering of the truth; and
when I got into the carriage again my friend said he thought I and James
were dreaming, and I retorted that I thought he must be going blind.
"I had a commission to execute as we passed through the town, and I
alighted for that purpose at the little haberdasher's; and while they
were serving me I mentioned that I had seen a remarkably beautiful cat
sitting on a gate in the lane, and asked if they could tell me who it
belonged to, adding it was the largest cat I ever saw.
"The owners of the shop, and two women who were making purchases,
suspended their proceedings, looked at each other and then looked at me,
evidently very much surprised.
"'Was it a white cat, ma'am?' said the mistress.
"'Yes, a white cat; a beautiful creature and----'
"'Bless me!' cried two or three, 'the lady's seen the white cat of
C----. It hasn't been seen these twenty years.'
"'Master wishes to know if you'll soon be done, ma'am. The pony is
getting restless,' said James.
"Of course I hurried out, and got into the carriage, telling my friend
that the cat was well known to the people at C----, and that it was
twenty years old.
"In those days, I believe, I never thought of ghosts, and least of all
should have thought of the ghost of a cat; but two evenings afterwards,
as we were driving down the lane, I again saw the cat in the same
position and again my companion could not see it, though the groom did.
I alighted immediately, and went up to it. As I approached it turned its
head and looked full towards me with its soft mild eyes, and a friendly
expression, like that of a loving dog; and then, without moving from the
post, it began to fade gradually away, as if it were a vapour, till it
had quite disappeared. All this the groom saw as well as myself; and now
there could be no mistake as to what it was. A third time I saw it in
broad daylight, and my curiosity greatly awakened, I resolved to make
further enquiries amongst the inhabitants of C----, but before I had an
opportunity of doing so, I was summoned away by the death of my eldest
child, and I have never been in that part of the world since.
"However, I once mentioned the circumstance to a lady who was acquainted
with that neighbourhood, and she said she had heard of the white cat of
C----, but had never seen it."
This is Mrs. M.'s account as related by Mrs. Crowe, and after perusing
the authoress's preface to the work, I am inclined to give it full
credence.
_The Mystic Properties of Cats_
The most common forms of animal phenomena seen in haunted houses are
undoubtedly those of cats. The number of places reported to me as being
haunted by cats is almost incredible--in one street in Whitechapel there
are no less than four. This state of affairs may possibly be accounted
for by the fact that cats, more than any other animals that live in
houses, meet with sudden and unnatural ends, especially in the poorer
districts, where the doctrine of kindness to animals has not as yet made
itself thoroughly felt. Now I am touching on the subject of cat ghosts,
it may not be out of place to reproduce the following article of mine,
entitled "Cats and the Unknown," which appeared in the _Occult Review_
for December, 1912:--
"Since, from all ages, the cat has been closely associated with the
supernatural, it is not surprising to learn that images and symbols of
that animal figured in the temples of the sun and moon, respectively, in
ancient Egypt. According to Horapollo, the cat was worshipped in the
Temple of Heliopolis, sacred to the sun, because the size of the pupil
of the cat's eye is regulated by the height of the sun above the
horizon.
"Other authorities suggest a rather more subtle--and, in my opinion,
more probable--reason, namely, that the link between the sun and the cat
is not merely physical but superphysical, that the cat is attracted to
the sun not only because it loves warmth, but because the sun keeps off
terrifying and antagonistic occult forces, to the influences of which
the cat, above all other animals, is specially susceptible; a fact fully
recognized by the Egyptians, who, to show their understanding and
appreciation of this feline attachment, took care that whenever a temple
was dedicated to the sun an image or symbol of the cat was placed
somewhere, well in evidence, within the precincts.
"To make this theory all the more probable, images and symbols of the
cat were dedicated to the moon, the moon being universally regarded as
the quintessence of everything supernatural, the very cockpit, in fact,
of mystery and spookism. The nocturnal habits of the cat, its love of
prowling about during moonlight hours, and the spectacle of its two
round, gleaming eyes, may, of course, as Plutarch seems to have thought,
have suggested to the Egyptians human influence and analogy, and thus
the presence of its effigy in temples to Isis would be partially, at all
events, accounted for; though, as before, I am inclined to think there
is another and rather more subtle reason.
"From endless experiments made in haunted houses, I have proved to my
own satisfaction, at least, that the cat acts as a thoroughly reliable
psychic barometer.
"The dog is sometimes unaware of the proximity of the Unknown. When the
ghost materializes or in some other way demonstrates its advent, the
dog, occasionally, is wholly undisturbed--the cat never. I have never
yet had a cat with me that has not shown the most obvious signs of
terror and uneasiness both before and during a superphysical
manifestation.
"Now, although I won't go so far as to say that ghostly demonstrations
are actually dependent on the moon--that they occur only on nights when
the moon is visible--experience has led me to believe that the moon most
certainly does influence them--that moonlight nights are much more
favourable to ghostly appearances than other nights. Hence--there is
this much in common between the moon and cats--the one influences and
the other is influenced by psychic phenomena--a fact that could scarcely
have failed to be recognized by so keen observers of the occult as the
Ancient Egyptians.
"The presence of the cat's effigy in the temples of Isis might thus be
explained. Over and over again we come across the cat in the land of the
Pharaohs. It seems to be inseparable from the esoteric side of Egyptian
life. The goddess Bast is depicted with a cat's head, holding the
sistrum, i.e. the symbol of the world's harmony, in her hand.
"One of the most ancient symbols of the cat is to be found in the
Necropolis of Thebes, which contains the tomb of Hana (who probably
belonged to the Eleventh Dynasty). There, Hana is depicted standing
erect, proud and kingly, with his favourite cat Borehaki--Borehaki, the
picture of all things strange and psychic, and from whom one cannot help
supposing he may have chosen his occult inspiration--at his feet. So
sure were the Egyptians that the cat possessed a soul that they deemed
it worthy of the same funeral rites they bestowed on man. Cats were
embalmed, and innumerable cat mummies have been discovered in wooden
coffins at Bubastis, Speos, Artemidos and Thebes. When a cat died the
Egyptians shaved their eyebrows, not only to show grief at the loss of
their loved one, but to avert subsequent misfortune.
"So long as a cat was in his house the Egyptian felt safe from inimical
supernatural influences, but if there was no cat in the house at night,
then any undesirable from the occult world might visit him. Indeed, in
such high esteem did the Egyptians hold the cat, that they voluntarily
incurred the gravest risks when its life was in peril. No one of them
appreciated the cat and set a higher value on its mystic properties than
the Sultan El-Daher-Beybas, who reigned in A.D. 1260, and has been
compared with William of Tripoli for his courage, and with Nero for his
cruelty. El-Daher-Beybas kept his palace swarming with cats, and--if we
may give credence to tradition--was seldom to be seen unaccompanied by
one of these animals. When he died, he left the proceeds from the
product of a garden to support his feline friends--an example that found
many subsequent imitators. Indeed, until comparatively recently in
Cairo, cats were regularly fed, between noon and sunset, in the outer
court of the Mehkemeh.
"In Geneva, Rome and Constantinople, though cats were generally deemed
to have souls and to possess psychic properties, they were thought to
derive them from evil sources, and so strong was the prejudice against
these unfortunate animals on this account, that all through the Middle
Ages we find them suffering such barbaric torture as only the perverted
minds of a fanatical, priest-ridden people could devise (which
treatment, no doubt, partly, at all events, accounts for the many
palaces, houses, etc., in those particular countries, stated to have
been haunted by the spirits of cats).
"The devil was popularly supposed to appear in the shape of a black Tom
in preference to assuming any other guise, and the bare fact of an old
woman being seen, once or twice, with a black cat by her side was quite
sufficient to earn for her the reputation of a witch. It would be idle,
of course, to expect people in these unmeditative times to believe there
was ever the remotest truth underlying these so-called phantastic
suppositions of the past; yet, according to reliable testimony, there
are, at the present moment, many houses in England haunted by phantasms
in the form of black cats, of so sinister and hostile an appearance,
that one can only assume that unless they are the actual spirits of
cats, earthbound through cruel and vicious propensities, they must be
vice-elementals, i.e. spirits that have never inhabited any material
body, and which have either been generated by vicious thoughts, or else
have been attracted elsewhere to a spot by some crime or vicious act
once perpetrated there. Vice-elemental is merely the modern name for
fiend or demon.
"Apart from his luciferan qualities, the cat was awarded all sorts of
other qualities, not the least important of which was its prophetic
capability. If a cat washed its face, rainy weather was regarded as
inevitable; if a cat frolicked on the deck of a ship, it was a sure sign
of a storm; whilst if a live ember fell on a cat, an earthquake shock
would speedily be felt. Cats, too, were reputed the harbingers of good
and bad fortune. Not a person in Normandy but believed, at one time,
that the spectacle of a tortoiseshell cat, climbing a tree, foretold
death from accident, and that a black cat crossing one's path, in the
moonlight, presaged death from an epidemic. Two black cats viewed in the
open between 4 and 7 a.m. were generally believed to predict a death;
whereas a strange white cat, heard mewing on a doorstep, was loudly
welcomed as the indication of an approaching marriage. According to
tradition, one learns that cats were occasionally made use of in
medicine; to cure peasants of skin diseases, French sorcerers sprinkling
the afflicted parts with three drops of blood drawn from the vein under
a cat's tail; whilst blindness was treated by blowing into the
patient's eyes, three times a day, the dust made from ashes of the head
of a black cat that had been burned alive.
"Talking of burning cats reminds me of a horrible practice that was
prevalent in the Hebrides as late as 1750. It was firmly believed there
that cats were extraordinarily psychic, and that a sure means of getting
in close touch with occult powers, and of obtaining from them the
faculty of second sight--such as the cat possessed--was to offer up as
sacrifices innumerable black cats. The process was very simple. A black
cat was fastened to a spit before a slow fire, and as soon as the
wretched animal was well roasted, another took its place; victims being
supplied without intermission, until their vociferous screams brought to
the scene a number of ghostly cats who joined in the chorus. The desired
climax was reached, when an enormous phantom cat suddenly appeared, and
informed the operator that it was willing to grant him any one request
if he would only refrain from his cruel persecution. The operator at
once demanded the faculty of second sight--a power more highly prized in
the Hebrides than any other--and the moment it was bestowed on him, set
free the remaining cats. Had all races been as barbarously disposed as
these occult-hungering Westerners, cats would soon have become extinct;
but it is comforting to think that in some parts of the world a very
different value was set on their psychic properties.
"In various parts of Europe (some districts of England included) white
cats were thought to attract benevolently disposed fairies, and a
peasant would as soon have thought of cutting off his fingers, or
otherwise maltreating himself, as being unkind to an animal of this
species. In the fairy lore of half Europe we have instances of
luck-bringing cats--each country producing its own version of Puss in
Boots, Dame Mitchell and her cat, the White Cat, Dick Whittington and
his cat, etc. It is the same in Asia, too; for nowhere are such stories
more prolific than in China and Persia.
"To sum up--in all climes and in all periods of past history, the cat
was credited with many propensities that brought it into affinity and
sympathy with the supernatural--or to quote the up-to-date
term--superphysical world. Let us review the cat to-day, and see to what
extent this past regard of it is justified.
"Firstly, with respect to it as the harbinger of fortune. Has a cat
insight into the future? Can it presage wealth or death? I am inclined
to believe that certain cats can at all events foresee the advent of the
latter; and that they do this in the same manner as the shark, crow,
owl, jackal, hyena, etc., viz. by their abnormally developed sense of
smell. My own and other people's experience has led me to believe that
when a person is about to die, some kind of phantom, maybe, a spirit
whose special function it is to be present on such occasions, is in
close proximity to the sick or injured one, waiting to escort his or her
soul into the world of shadows--and that certain cats scent its
approach.
"Therein then--in this wonderful property of smell--lies one of the
secrets to the cat's mysterious powers, it has the psychic faculty of
scent--of scenting ghosts. Some people, too, have this faculty. In a
recent murder case, in the North of England, a rustic witness gave it in
her evidence that she was sure a tragedy was about to happen because she
"smelt death in the house," and it made her very uneasy. Cats possessing
this peculiarity are affected in a similar manner--they are uneasy.
"Before a death in a house I have watched a cat show gradually
increasing signs of uneasiness. It has moved from place to place, unable
to settle in any one spot for any length of time, had frequent fits of
shivering, gone to the door, sniffed the atmosphere, thrown back its
head and mewed in a low, plaintive key, and shown the greatest
reluctance to being alone in the dark.
"This faculty--possessed by certain cats--may in some measure explain
certain of the superstitions respecting them. Take, for example, that of
cats crossing one's path predicting death.
"The cat is drawn to the spot because it scents the phantom of death,
and cannot resist its magnetic attraction.
"From this, it does not follow that the person who sees the cat is going
to die, but that death is overtaking someone associated with that
person; and it is in connection with the latter that the spirit of the
grave is present, employing, as a medium of prognostication, the cat,
which has been given the psychic faculty of smell that it might be so
used.
"But although I regard this theory as very feasible, I do not attribute
to cats, with the same degree of certainty, the power to presage good
fortune, simply because I have had no experience of it myself. Yet,
adopting the same lines of argument, I see no reason why cats should not
prognosticate good as well as evil.
"There may be phantoms representative of prosperity, in just the same
manner as there are those representative of death; they, too, may also
have some distinguishing scent (flowers have various odours, so why not
spirits?) and certain cats, i.e. white cats in particular, may be
attracted by it.
"This becomes all the more probable when one considers how very
impressionable the cat is--how very sensitive to kindness. There are
some strangers with whom the cat will at once make friends, and others
whom it will studiously avoid. Why? The explanation, I fancy, lies once
more in the occult--in the cat's psychic faculty of smell. Kind people
attract benevolently disposed phantoms, which bring with them an
agreeably scented atmosphere, that, in turn, attracts cats. The cat
comes to one person because it knows by the smell of the atmosphere
surrounding him, or her, that it has nothing to fear--that the person is
essentially gentle and benignant. On the contrary, cruel people attract
malevolent phantoms, distinguishable also to the cat by their smell, a
smell typical of cruelty--often of homicidal lunacy (I have particularly
noticed how cats have shrunk from people who have afterwards become
dangerously insane). Is this sense of smell, then, the keynote to the
halo of mystery that has for all times surrounded the cat--that has led
to its bitter persecution--that has made it the hero of fairy lore, the
pet of old maids? I believe it is--I believe that in this psychic
faculty of smell lies, in degree, the solution to the oft-asked
riddle--why is the cat uncanny? Having then satisfied oneself on this
point, namely, that cats are in the possession of rare psychic
properties, is it likely that the Unknown Powers which have so endowed
them, should withhold from them either souls or spirits? Is it not
contrary to reason, instinct, and observation to suppose that the many
thoroughly material and grossly minded people--people whose whole beings
are steeped in money worship--we see around us every day should have
spirits, and that pretty, refined and artistic-looking cats, whose
occult powers place them in the very closest connection with the
superphysical, should not? Monstrous--the bare conception of such
incongruity in the one case, and such an omission in the other, is
inconceivable, wholly irreconcilable with the notion of any other than a
mummer of a creator--a mere court fool of a God."