which was occupied by several families. On taking possession of my
apartments, I agreed with the old lady of the house, who had two
children, to accommodate me with a key to the street-door, to prevent
unnecessary trouble to the servant or family, as I should very
frequently stay out late in the evening. This was agreed to; and, by way
of making things more agreeable, I had always a light left burning for
me on the staircase, which was opposite to the outer door. This
arrangement being made, things continued very comfortable for some
months; till, one night, or rather morning, returning and opening the
door as usual, I thought I heard a faint scream--I paused for a few
seconds. The cry of 'Murder!' now feebly succeeded. I hesitated how to
act, when the cry of 'Murder!' was again more loudly vociferated. This
very much alarmed me; and, instead of going forward, I instantly
re-opened the street-door, and was in the act of calling the watch, when
a tall spare figure, at least six feet high, in a complete white dress,
and pointed cap, with a candle in its hand, appeared before me. This
unexpected encounter completed my astonishment, and I was about to
speak, when the phantom (which proved to be my good old landlady) thus
addressed me--'I hope, Sir, I have not alarmed you; but, just before you
came to the door, I had a most frightful dream. I thought robbers had
broken into my house, and, not content with plunder, had murdered my
children, and were about to destroy me; when the noise you made on
opening the door increased my agony of mind; and, before I was
sufficiently sensible, I screamed out _Murder!_ as you must have
heard.' This explanation having taken place, the poor woman retired, and
was for several days after extremely ill; and I was not a little pleased
myself at finding what I at first supposed a supernatural encounter thus
terminate, without having recourse to a divine exorcist."
THE
SOMERSETSHIRE DEMONIAC.
On the 13th of June 1788, George Lukins, of Yatton, in Somersetshire,
was exorcised in the Temple Church at Bristol, and delivered from the
possession of seven devils by the efforts of seven clergymen.
Lukins was first attacked by a kind of epileptic fit, when he was going
about acting Christmas plays, or mummeries: this he ascribed to a blow
given by an invisible hand. He was afterwards seized by fits; during
which he declared with a roaring voice that he was the devil, and sung
different songs in a variety of keys. The fits always began and ended
with a strong agitation of the right hand; he frequently uttered
dreadful execrations during the fits: and the whole duration of this
disorder was eighteen years.
At length, _viz._ in June 1788, he declared, that he was possessed by
seven devils, and could only be freed by the prayers, _in faith_, of
seven clergymen. Accordingly, the requisite number was summoned, and the
patient sung, swore, laughed, barked, and treated the company with a
ludicrous parody on the _Te Deum_. These astonishing symptoms resisted
both hymns and prayers, till a _small, faint voice_ admonished the
ministers to adjure. The spirits, after some murmuring, yielded to the
adjuration; and the happy patient returned thanks for his wonderful
cure. It is remarkable, that, during this solemn mockery, the fiend
swore, by his infernal den, that he would not quit his patient; an oath,
I believe, no where to be found but in the Pilgrim's Progress, from
whence Lukins probably got it.
Very soon after, the first relation of this story was published, a
person well acquainted with Lukins, took the trouble of undeceiving the
public, with regard to his pretended disorder, in a plain, sensible,
narrative of his conduct. He asserts, that Lukins's first seizure was
nothing else than a fit of drunkenness; that he always foretold his
fits, and remained sensible during their continuance. That he frequently
saw Lukins in his fits; in every one of which, except in singing, he
performed not more than most active young people can easily do. That he
was detected in an imposture with respect to the clenching of his hands.
That after money had been collected for him, he got very suddenly well.
That he never had any fits while he was at St. George's Hospital, in
London; nor when visitors were excluded from his lodgings by desire of
the author of the narrative: and that he was particularly careful never
to hurt himself by his exertions during the paroxysm.
Is it for the credit of this philosophical age, that so bungling an
imposture should deceive seven clergymen into a public act of exorcism?
This would not have passed even on the authors of the _Malleus
Maleficarum_; for they required signs of supernatural agency, such as
the suspension of the possessed in the air without any visible support,
or the use of different languages, unknown to the demoniac in his
natural state.
THE MANIAC,
OR
_FATAL EFFECTS OF WANTON MISCHIEF_.
Some years ago, a very intelligent, handsome, and promising youth, whose
names is Henry Pargeter Lewis, the son of a respectable attorney, in the
town of Dudley, was placed for a probationary time, previously to an
intended apprenticeship, with a surgeon and apothecary of the name of
Powell, in the immediate neighbourhood of one of our great public
schools. He had not been there long, before one of the scholars, who
lodged at the surgeon's, in league with the servant-boy of the house,
devised the following stratagem to frighten him. One night, during an
absence of the master, the servant-boy concealed himself under the bed
of Henry, before the latter retired to rest, and remained there till the
hour of midnight; when, on a preconcerted signal of three raps at the
chamber door, it suddenly opened, and in stalked the school-boy, habited
in a white sheet, with his face horribly disguised, and bearing a
lighted candle in his hand; the servant-boy, at the same moment, heaving
up the bed under Henry with his back. How long this was acted is not
known: it was done long enough, however, completely to dethrone the
reason of the unfortunate youth; who, it is supposed, immediately
covered himself with the bed-clothes, and so continued till the morning.
On his not rising at the usual time, some one of the family went to call
him; and, not answering, except by incoherent cries, was discovered in
the state just described.
The melancholy tidings of his situation were conveyed to his friends, on
his removal to them; the facts having been disclosed, partly by the
confession of the servant-boy, and partly by the unfortunate youth
himself, during the few lucid intervals which occurred in the course of
the first year after his misfortune.
His father and mother were then living, but they are now both dead: and
the little property they left to support him is now nearly exhausted,
together with a small subscription which was also raised to furnish him
with necessaries, and to remunerate a person to take care of him. He is
perfectly harmless and gentle, being rather in a state of idiotcy than
insanity; seldom betraying any symptoms of violent emotion, except
occasionally about midnight (the time of his unhappy disaster), when,
full of indescribable terror, he exclaims, "_Oh! they are coming! they
are coming!_" All hope of recovery is at an end; more than twenty years
having elapsed since the catastrophe happened.
It is sincerely hoped that this pitiable case may prove a warning to
inconsiderate youth; by showing them what dreadful effects may follow
such wanton acts of mischief.
EXTRAORDINARY
DOUBLE DREAM,
_Without any Corresponding Event_.
The late Reverend Mr. Joseph Wilkins, a dissenting clergyman, at
Weymouth, in Dorsetshire, had the following remarkable dream, which is
copied verbatim from a short account of his life.
"One night, soon after I was in bed, I fell asleep, and dreamed I was
going to London. I thought it would not be much out of my way to go
through Gloucestershire, and call upon my friends there. Accordingly, I
set out; but remember nothing that happened by the way, till I came to
my father's house, when I went to the fore door and tried to open it,
but found it fast; then I went to our back door, which I opened and went
in: but finding all the family were in bed, I went across the rooms
only, and walked up stairs, entered the room where my father and mother
were in bed, and as I passed by the side of the bed in which my father
lay, I found him asleep, or thought he was so; then I went to the other
side, and as I just turned the foot of the bed, I found my mother awake,
to whom I said these words, 'Mother, I am going a long journey, and am
come to bid you good-bye;' upon which she answered me in a fright--'_O!
dear son, thee art dead!_' with which I awoke, and took no notice of it
more than a common dream, only it appeared to me very perfect, as
sometimes dreams will. But, in a few days after, as soon as a letter
could reach me, I received one by the post from my father; upon the
receipt of which I was a little surprised, and concluded something
extraordinary must have happened, as it was but a little before I had
had a letter from my friends, and all were well: but, upon opening it, I
was still more surprised; for my father addressed me as though I was
dead, desiring me, if alive, or whose ever hands the letter might fall
into, to write immediately. But, if the letter found me living, they
concluded I should not live long, and gave this as a reason for their
fears--That on such a night (naming it), after they were in bed, my
father asleep and my mother awake, she heard somebody try to open the
fore door, but finding it fast, he went to the back door, which he
opened, and came in, and went directly through the room up stairs, and
she perfectly knew it to be my step, come to her bed-side, and spoke to
her these words, 'Mother, I am going a long journey, and am come to bid
you good-bye,' upon which she answered in a fright, '_O! dear son, thee
art dead!_' (which were the very circumstances and words of _my_ dream);
but she heard nothing more, she saw nothing (neither did I in my dream,
as it was all dark). Upon this she awoke my father, and told him what
had passed, but he endeavoured to appease her, persuading her it was
only a dream; but she insisted on it, it was no dream, for that she was
as perfectly awake as ever, and had not had the least inclination to
sleep since she had been in bed (from which I am apt to think it was at
the _very same instant_ with my dream, though the distance between us
was about one hundred miles, but of this I cannot speak positively).
This affair happened whilst I was at the academy at Ottery, in the
county of Devon, and I believe in the year 1754; and at this distance
every circumstance is very fresh in my mind. I have since had frequent
opportunities of talking over the affair with my mother, and the whole
circumstance was as fresh upon her mind as it was upon mine. I have
often thought that her sensation as to this matter was stronger than
mine; and, what some may think strange, I cannot remember any thing
remarkable happened thereon; and that this is only a plain simple
narrative of matter of fact."
The above relation must convince credulous people how necessary it is,
not to place implicit confidence in dreams, or suffer them to make too
great an impression on the mind, as they are most frequently merely the
result of our waking thoughts.
REMARKABLE INSTANCES
OF THE
POWER OF VISION.
A shepherd upon one of the mountains in Cumberland, was suddenly
enveloped with a thick fog or mist, through which every object appeared
so greatly increased in magnitude, that he no longer knew where he was.
In this state of confusion he wandered in search of some unknown object,
from which he might direct his future steps. Chance, at last, brought
this lost shepherd within sight of what he supposed to be a very large
mansion, which he did not remember ever to have seen before; but, on his
entering this visionary castle, to inquire his way home, he found it
inhabited by his own family. It was nothing more than his own cottage.
But his organs of sight had so far misled his mental faculties, that
some little time elapsed before he could be convinced that he saw real
objects. Instances of the same kind of illusion, though not to the same
degree, are not unfrequent in those mountainous regions.
From these effects of vision, it is evident that the pupil and the
picture of an object within the eye, increase at the same time.
* * * * *
The writer of the above account was passing the Frith of Forth, at
Queensferry, near Edinburgh, one morning when it was extremely foggy.
Though the water is only two miles broad, the boat did not get within
sight of the southern shore till it approached very near it. He then
saw, to his great surprise, a large perpendicular rock, where he knew
the shore was low and almost flat. As the boat advanced a little nearer,
the rock seemed to split perpendicularly into portions, which separated
at a little distance from one another. He next saw these perpendicular
divisions move; and, upon approaching a little nearer, found it was a
number of people, standing on the beach, waiting the arrival of the
ferry-boat.
* * * * *
The following extract of a letter, from a gentleman of undoubted
veracity, is another curious instance of the property of vision:--
"When I was a young man, I was, like others, fond of sporting, and
seldom liked to miss a day, if I could any way go out. From my own house
I set out on foot, and pursued my diversion on a foggy day; and, after I
had been out some time, the fog or mist increased to so great a degree,
that, however familiar the hedges, trees, &c. were to me, I lost myself,
insomuch that I did not know whether I was going to or from home. In a
field where I then was, I suddenly discovered what I imagined was a well
known hedge-row, interspersed with pollard trees, &c. under which I
purposed to proceed homewards; but, to my great surprise, upon
approaching this appearance, I discovered a row of the plants known by
the name of _rag_, and by the vulgar, _canker weed_, growing on a mere
balk, dividing ploughed fields: the whole height of both could not
exceed three feet, or three feet and a half. It struck me so forcibly
that I shall never forget it; this too in a field which I knew as well
as any man, could know a field."
THE
PHILOSOPHER GASSENDI,
AND THE
_HAUNTED BED-ROOM_.
In one of the letters of this celebrated philosopher, he says, that he
was consulted by his friend and patron the Count d'Alais, governor of
Provence, on a phenomenon that haunted his bed-chamber while he was at
Marseilles on some business relative to his office. The Count tells
Gassendi, that, for several successive nights, as soon as the candle was
taken away, he and his Countess saw a luminous spectre, sometimes of an
oval, and sometimes of a triangular form; that it always disappeared
when light came into the room; that he had often struck at it, but could
discover nothing solid. Gassendi, as a natural philosopher, endeavoured
to account for it; sometimes attributing it to some defect of vision, or
to some dampness of the room, insinuating that perhaps it might be sent
from Heaven to him, to give him a warning in due time of something that
should happen. The spectre still continued its visits all the time that
he staid at Marseilles; and some years afterwards, on their return to
Aix, the Countess d'Alais confessed to her husband, that she played him
this trick, by means of one of her women placed under the bed with a
phial of phosphorus, with an intention to frighten him away from
Marseilles, a place in which she very much disliked to live.
THE
GHOST ON SHIP-BOARD.
A gentleman of high respectability in the navy relates the following
story.
"When on a voyage to New York, we had not been four days at sea, before
an occurrence of a very singular nature broke in upon our quiet. _It was
a ghost!_ One night, when all was still and dark, and the ship rolling
at sea before the wind, a man sprung suddenly upon deck in his shirt,
his hair erect, his eyes starting from their sockets, and loudly
vociferating he had seen a ghost. After his horror had a little
subsided, we asked him what he had seen?--he said, the figure of a woman
dressed in white, with eyes of flaming fire; that she came to his
hammock, and stared him in the face. This we treated as an idle dream,
and sent the frantic fellow to his bed. The story became the subject of
every one; and the succeeding night produced half a dozen more
terrified men to corroborate what had happened the first, and all agreed
in the same story, that it was a woman. This rumour daily increasing, at
length came to the ears of the captain and officers, who were all
equally solicitous to discover the true cause of this terrific report. I
placed myself night by night beneath the hammocks to watch its
appearance, but all in vain; yet still the appearance was nightly, as
usual, and the horrors and fears of the people rather daily increased
than diminished. A phantom of this sort rather amused than perplexed my
mind; and when I had given over every idea of discovering the cause of
this strange circumstance, and the thing began to wear away, I was
surprised, one very dark night, as seated under the boats, with a
stately figure in white stalking along the deck! The singularity of the
event struck my mind that this must be the very identical ghost which
had of late so much disturbed the ship's company. I therefore instantly
dropped down from the place I was in, to the deck on which it appeared,
when it passed me immediately very quickly, turned round, and marched
directly forwards. I followed it closely, through the gallery, and out
at the head-doors, when the figure instantly disappeared, which very
much astonished me. I then leaped upon the forecastle, and asked of the
people who were walking there, if such a figure had passed them? They
replied, No, with some emotion and pleasure, as I had ever ridiculed all
their reports on this subject. However, this night-scene between me and
the ghost became the theme of the ensuing day. Nothing particular
transpired till twelve o'clock, when, as the people were pricking at the
tub for their beef, it was discovered Jack Sutton was missing. The
ship's company was directly mustered, and Jack was no where to be found.
I then inquired of his messmates the character of the man; and, after a
number of interrogatories, one of them said, that poor Sutton used to
tell him a number of comical jokes about his walking in his sleep. Now
the mystery was unravelled; and this terrific ghost, which had so much
alarmed all the sailors, now proved to be the poor unfortunate Jack
Sutton, who had walked overboard in his dream."
The first fellow who spread this report, and who shewed such signs of
horror, was found on inquiry to be a most flagitious villain, who had
murdered a woman, who he believed always haunted him, and the appearance
of this sleepwalker confirmed in his mind the ghost of the murdered fair
one; for, in such cases, conscience is a busy monitor, and ever active
to its own pain and disturbance.
A REMARKABLE STORY
OF
A GHOST,
_Thrice called for, as an Evidence, in a Court of Justice_.
A farmer, on his return from the market at Southam, in the county of
Warwick, was murdered. A man went the next morning to his house, and
inquired of the mistress, if her husband came home the evening before;
she replied, No, and that she was under the utmost anxiety and terror on
that account. "Your terror," added he, "cannot equal mine; for, last
night, as I lay in bed quite awake, the apparition of your husband
appeared to me, shewed me several ghastly stabs in his body; told me
that he had been murdered by such a person (naming the man), and his
body thrown into such a marl-pit, which he then particularly described.
The alarm was given, the pit searched, the body found, and the wounds
answered the description given of them. The man whom the ghost had
accused was apprehended, and committed, on a violent suspicion of
murder. His trial came on at Warwick, before the Lord Chief Justice
Raymond; when the jury would have convicted, as rashly as the
magistrate had committed him, had not the judge checked them. He
addressed himself to them in words to this purpose--"I think, Gentlemen,
you seem inclined to lay more stress on the evidence of an apparition
than it will bear. I cannot say that I give much credit to these kind of
stories: but, be that as it will, we have no right to follow our own
private opinions here. We are now in a court of law, and must determine
according to it; and I know of no law now in being, which will admit of
the testimony of an apparition: not yet, if it did, doth the ghost
appear to give evidence. Crier," said he, "call the ghost." Which was
_thrice_ done, to no manner of purpose: it appeared not. "Gentlemen of
the Jury," continued the Judge, "the prisoner at the bar, as you have
heard by undeniable witnesses, is a man of the most unblemished
character; nor has it appeared in the course of the examination, that
there was any manner of quarrel or grudge between him and the party
deceased. I do believe him to be perfectly innocent; and, as there is no
evidence against him, either positive or circumstantial, he must be
acquitted. But, from many circumstances which have arisen during the
trial, I do strongly suspect that the gentleman who saw the apparition
was himself the murderer: in which case he might easily ascertain the
pit, the wounds, &c. without any supernatural assistance; and on
suspicion, I shall think myself justified in committing him to close
custody, till the matter can be fairly inquired into. This was
immediately done, and a warrant granted for searching his house; when
such strong proofs of guilt appeared against him, that he confessed the
murder: for which he was executed.
THE
LADY OF THE BLACK TOWER.
BY MRS. ROBINSON.
"Watch no more the twinkling stars;
Watch no more the chalky bourne;
Lady, from the holy wars
Never will thy love return!
Cease to watch, and cease to mourn;
Thy lover never will return!
"Watch no more the yellow moon,
Peering o'er the mountain's head;
Rosy day, returning soon,
Will see thy lover pale and dead!
Cease to weep, and cease to mourn:
Thy lover will no more return.
"Lady, in the holy wars,
Fighting for the cross, he died;
Low he lies, and many scars
Mark his cold and mangled side;
In his winding-sheet he lies.
Lady, check those rending sighs.
"Hark! the hollow-sounding gale
Seems to sweep in murmurs by,
Sinking slowly down the vale;
Wherefore, gentle lady, sigh?
Wherefore moan, and wherefore sigh?
Lady, all that live must die.
"Now the stars are fading fast,
Swift their brilliant course are run:
Soon shall dreary night be past,
Soon shall rise the cheering sun!
The sun will rise to gladden thee;
Lady, lady, cheerful be."
So spake a voice; while, sad and lone,
Upon a lofty tow'r reclin'd,
A lady sat: the pale moon shone,
And sweetly blew the summer wind;
Yet still, disconsolate in mind,
The lovely lady sat reclin'd.
The lofty tow'r was ivy-clad;
And round a dreary forest rose;
The midnight bell was tolling sad,
'Twas tolling for a soul's repose.
The lady heard the gates unclose,
And from her seat in terror rose.
The summer moon shone bright and clear;
She saw the castle gates unclose;
And now she saw four monks appear,
Loud chanting for a soul's repose.
Forbear, O lady! look no more:
They pass'd--a livid corpse they bore.
They pass'd, and all was silent now;
The breeze upon the forest slept;
The moon stole o'er the mountain's brow;
Again the lady sigh'd and wept.
She watch'd the holy fathers go
Along the forest path below.
And now the dawn was bright; the dew
Upon the yellow heath was seen;
The clouds were of a rosy hue,
The sunny lustre shone between:
The lady to the chapel ran,
While the slow matin pray'r began.
And then, once more, the fathers grey
She mark'd, employ'd in holy pray'r;
Her heart was full, she could not pray,
For love and fear were masters there!
Ah, lady! thou wilt pray, ere long,
To sleep those lonely aisles among!
And now the matin pray'rs were o'er;
The barefoot monks, of order grey,
Were thronging to the chapel door:
When there the lady stopp'd the way;
"Tell me," she cried, "whose corpse so pale
Last night ye bore along the vale?"
"O lady! question us no more:
No corpse did we bear down the dale."
The lady sunk upon the floor,
Her quiv'ring lip was deathly pale!
The barefoot monks now whisper'd, sad,
"God grant our lady be not mad!"
The monks departing, one by one,
The chapel gates in silence close,
When from the altar steps of stone
The trembling lady feebly goes;
While morning sheds a ruby light,
The painted windows glowing bright.
And now she heard a hollow sound;
It seem'd to come from graves below;
And now again she look'd around,
A voice came murm'ring sad and slow
And now she heard it feebly cry,
"Lady, all that live must die!
"Watch no more from yonder tow'r,
Watch no more the star of day!
Watch no more the dawning hour,
That chases sullen night away!
Cease to watch, and cease to mourn;
Thy lover will no more return!"