CASES OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY
In previous chapters I have dealt exclusively with cases that are, without
doubt, those of genuine Banshee haunting. I now propose to narrate a few
cases which I will term cases of doubtful Banshee haunting--that is to
say, cases of haunting which, although said to be Banshee, cannot, in view
of the phenomena and circumstances, be thus designated with any degree of
certainty.
To begin with I will recall the case relating to the R----s, a family
living in Canada. Their house, a long, low, two-storied building, stood on
a lonely spot on the road leading to Montreal, and a young lady, whom I
will designate Miss Delane, was visiting them when the incidents I am
about to narrate took place.
The weather had been more than commonly fine for that time of year, but at
last the inevitable and unmistakable signs of a break had set in, and one
evening black clouds gathered in the sky, the wind whistled ominously in
the chimneys and savagely shook the many-coloured maple leaves, while,
after a time, the moon, which had been hanging like a great red globe over
the St Lawrence, became suddenly obscured, and big drops of rain came
spluttering against the windows.
Miss Delane, who had been seized with a strange restlessness which she
could not shake off, then went into the hall, and was about to speak to
one of Major R----'s nieces, who was also on a visit there, when her
attention was arrested by the sound of a heavy carriage lumbering along
the high road, from the direction of Montreal, at a very great rate. It
being now nearly ten o'clock, an hour when there was usually very little
traffic, she was somewhat surprised, her astonishment increasing by leaps
and bounds when she heard the wheels crunching on the gravel drive, and
the carriage rapidly approaching the house.
"Surely, it is too late----" she began, but was cut short by the Major,
who, abruptly pushing past her to the front door, just as the carriage
drew up, swung it to, and, in trembling haste, locked, and barred, and
bolted it.
Footsteps were then heard hurriedly ascending the steps to the front door,
and immediately afterwards a series of loud rat-tat-tats, although, as
everyone instantly remembered, there was no knocker on the door, the
Major having had it removed many years ago, for a reason he either could
not or would not explain.
Startled almost out of their senses by the noise, the whole household had
in a few seconds assembled in the hall, and they now knelt, huddled
together, whilst the Major in a voice which, despite the fact that it was
raised to its highest pitch, could barely be heard above the furious and
frenzied knocking, besought the Almighty to protect them.
As he continued praying the rat-tats gradually grew feebler and feebler,
until they finally ceased, after which the footsteps were once again heard
on the stone steps, this time descending, and the carriage drove away. It
was not, however, until the reverberations of the wheels could no longer
be heard that the Major rose from his knees. Then, bidding his household
do likewise, he insisted that they should at once retire, without speaking
a word, to their rooms; and forbade them ever to mention the matter to him
again.
As soon as Miss Delane and the Major's nieces were in their bedroom--they
shared a room between them--they ran to the window and looked out. The sky
was quite clear now, and the moon was shining forth in all the splendour
of its calm cold majesty; but the grounds and road beyond were quite
deserted; not a vestige of any person or carriage could be seen anywhere,
and, on the morrow, when they hastened downstairs and examined the gravel,
there were no indications whatever of any wheels.
The day passed quite uneventfully, and once again it was night-time; the
Major had read prayers as usual at about ten, and the household, also as
usual, had retired to rest. Miss Delane, who was used to much later hours,
found it difficult to compose herself to sleep so soon, but she had just
managed to doze off, when she was aroused by her friend Ellen, the elder
of the Major's two nieces, pulling violently at her bedclothes, and, on
looking up, she perceived a tall figure, clad in what looked like nun's
garments, walking across the room with long, stealthy strides. As she
gazed at it in breathless astonishment, it suddenly paused and, turning
its hooded head round, stared fixedly at Ellen, and then, moving on,
seemed to melt into the wall. At all events, it had vanished, and there
was nothing where it had been standing, saving moonlight.
For some minutes Ellen was too terrified to speak, but she at last called
out to Miss Delane and implored her to come and get into her bed, as she
no longer dared lie there by herself.
"Did you see the way it looked at me," she whispered, clutching hold of
Miss Delane, and shuddering violently. "I don't think I shall ever get
over it. We must leave here to-morrow. We must, we must," and she burst
out crying.
As may be imagined, there was little sleep for either of the girls again
that night, and it seemed to them as if the morning would never come; but,
when at last it did come, they told Major R---- what had happened, and
declared they really dared not spend another night in the house.
Though obviously distressed on hearing what they had to say, the Major did
not press them to alter their decision and stay, but told them that to go,
he thought, under the circumstances, was far the wisest and safest thing
for them to do. An hour or so later, having finished their packing, they
were all three taking a final stroll together in the garden, when they
fancied they heard someone running after them down one of the sidewalks,
and, turning round, they saw the figure that had disturbed them in the
night, standing close behind them.
The sunlight falling directly on it revealed features now only too easily
distinguishable of someone long since dead, but animated by a spirit that
was wholly antagonistic and malicious, and as they shrank back
terror-stricken, it stretched forth one of its long, bony arms and touched
first Ellen and then her sister on the shoulder. It then veered round,
and, moving away with the same peculiarly long and surreptitious strides,
seemed suddenly to amalgamate with the shadows from the trees and
disappear.
For some moments the girls were far too paralysed with fear to do other
than remain where they were, trembling; but their faculties at length
reasserting themselves, they made a sudden dash for the house, and ran at
top speed till they reached it.
It was some weeks afterwards, however, and not till then, that Miss
Delane, who was back again in her home in Ireland, received any
explanation of the phenomena she had witnessed. It was given her by a
friend of the R----s who happened to be visiting one of Miss Delane's
relatives in Dublin.
"What you saw," this friend of the R----s said to Miss Delane, "was, I
believe, the Banshee, which always manifests itself before the death of
any member of the family. Sometimes it shrieks, like the shrieking of a
woman who is being cruelly done to death, and sometimes it merely stares
at or touches its victim on the shoulder with its skeleton hand. In either
case its advent is fatal. Only," she added, "let me implore you never to
breathe a word of this to the R----s, as they never mention their ghost to
anyone."
Miss Delane, of course, promised, at the same time expressing a devout
hope that the phenomena she had witnessed did not point to the illness or
death of either of her friends; but in this she was doomed to the deepest
disappointment, for within a few weeks of the date upon which the
Banshee--if Banshee it really were--had appeared, she received tidings of
the deaths of both Ellen and her sister (the former succumbing to an
attack of some malignant fever, and the latter to an accident), and in
addition heard that Major R---- had died also. As Major R---- would never
discuss the subject of his family ghost with anyone at all, it is
impossible to say whether he believed the haunting to be a Banshee
haunting or not; but many, apparently, did believe it to be this type of
haunting, and I must say I think they were wrong.
To begin with, the R----s were Anglo-Irish. Their connection with Ireland
may have dated back a century or so, but they were certainly not of
Milesian nor even Celtic Irish descent; and, for this reason alone, could
not have acquired a Banshee haunting. Besides, the Banshee that we know
does not appear, as the R----'s ghost appeared, attired in the vestments
of a religious order; and the coach or hearse phantasm (which in the
R----'s case preceded the manifestation of the supposed Banshee) is by no
means an uncommon haunting;[8] and since it is more often than not
accompanied by phenomena of the sepulchral type (the type witnessed by
Miss Delane and the Major's nieces), it may be said to constitute in
itself a peculiar form of family haunting which is not, of course,
exclusively confined to the Irish.
Hence I entirely dismiss the theory that the notorious R----'s ghost had
anything at all to do with the Banshee. A propos of coaches, I am reminded
of an incident related by that past master of the weird, J. Sheridan Le
Fanu, in a short story entitled "A Chapter in the History of a Tyrone
Family." As it relates to that type of phantasm that is so often foolishly
confused with the Banshee, I think I cannot do better than give a brief
sketch of it.
Miss Richardson, a young Anglo-Irish girl, resided with her parents at
Ashtown, Tyrone, and her elder sister, who had recently married a Mr Carew
of Dublin, being expected with her husband on a visit, great preparations
were on foot for their reception.
They were leaving Dublin by coach on the Monday morning, they had written
to say, and hoped to arrive at Ashtown some time the following day. The
morning and afternoon passed, however, without any sign of the Carews,
and when it got dark, and still they did not come, the Richardson family
began to feel a trifle uneasy.
The night was fine, the sky cloudless, and the moon, when it at length
rose, could not have been more brilliant. It was a still night, too, so
still that not a leaf stirred, and so still that those on the qui vive,
who were straining their ears to the utmost, must have caught the sound of
an approaching vehicle on the high road, had there been one, when it was
still at a distance of several miles. But no sound came, and when
suppertime arrived, Mr Richardson, as was his wont, made a tour of the
house, and carefully fastened the shutters and locked the doors. Still the
family listened, and still they could hear nothing, nothing, either near
to, or far away.
It was now midnight, but no one went to bed, for all were buoyed up with
the desperate hope that something must at last happen--either, the Carews
themselves would suddenly turn up, or a messenger with a letter explaining
the delay.
Neither eventuality, however, came to pass, and nothing occurred until
Miss Richardson, who had, for the moment, allowed her mind to dwell on an
entirely different topic, gave a start. Her heart beat loud, and she held
her breath! She heard carriage wheels. Yes, without a doubt, she heard
wheels--the wheels of a coach or carriage, and they were getting more and
more distinct. But she remained silent. She had been rebuked once or twice
for giving a false alarm--she would now let someone else speak first. In
the meantime, on and on came the wheels, stopping for a moment whilst the
iron gate at the entrance to the drive was swung open on its rusty hinges;
then on and on again, louder, louder and louder, till all could
distinguish, amid the barking of the dogs, the sound of scattered gravel
and the crackling and swishing of the whip. There was no doubt about it
now, and with joyous cries of "It is them! They have come at last," a
regular stampede was made for the hall door, parents and sister, servants
and dogs, vying with one another to see who could get there first. But, lo
and behold, when the door was opened, and they stepped out, there was no
sign of a coach or carriage anywhere; nothing was to be seen but the broad
gravel drive and lawn beyond, alight with moonbeams and peopled with queer
shadows, but absolutely silent, with a silence that suggested a
churchyard.
The whole household now looked at one another with white and puzzled
faces; they began to be afraid; whilst the dogs, running about, and
sniffing, and whining, were obviously ill at ease and afraid, too.
At last a kind of panic set in, and all made a rush for the house, taking
care, when once inside, to shut the door with even greater haste than they
had displayed in opening it. The family then retired to rest, but not to
sleep, and early the next morning they received news that fully confirmed
their suspicions. Mrs Carew had been taken ill with fever on Monday, while
preparations for the departure were being made, and had passed away,
probably at the very moment when the Richardsons, hearing the phantom
coach and mistaking it for a real one, had opened their hall door to
welcome her.
That is the gist of the incident as related by Mr Le Fanu, and I have
quoted it merely to show how a case of this kind, especially when it
happens in Ireland, and to a family that has for some time been associated
with Ireland, may sometimes be mistaken for a genuine Banshee haunting,
although, of course, there is no reason whatever to suppose that Mr Le
Fanu himself laboured under any delusion with regard to it, or intended to
convey to his readers an impression of the haunting that the circumstances
did not warrant. He merely states it as a case of the supernatural without
attempting to consign it to any special category.
Lady Wilde in her "Ancient Cures, Charms and Usages of Ireland," pp. 163,
164, quotes another case of coach haunting in Ireland, a very terrible
one; while in a book entitled "Rambles in Northumberland," by the same
author, we are informed, "when the death-hearse, drawn by headless horses
and driven by a headless driver, is seen about midnight proceeding
rapidly, but without noise, towards the churchyard, the death of some
considerable personage in the parish is sure to happen at no distant
period." Also, there is a phantom of this description that is occasionally
seen on the road near Langley in Durham, and my relatives, the Vizes[9] of
Limerick--at least, so my grandmother, _nee_ Sally Vize, used to say--are
haunted by a phantom coach too; indeed, there seems to be no end to this
kind of haunting, which is always either very picturesque or very
terrifying, and sometimes both picturesque and terrifying.
At the same time, although intensely interesting, no doubt, the phantom
coach is not essentially Irish, and not in any way connected with the
Banshee.
As an example of the extreme anxiety of some people to be thought to be of
ancient Irish extraction and to have a Banshee, I might refer to an
incident in connection with Mrs Elizabeth Sheridan, which is recorded in
footnotes on pages 32 and 33 of "The Memoirs of the Life and Writings of
Mrs Frances Sheridan," compiled by her granddaughter, Miss Alicia Lefanu,
and published in 1824, and quote from it the following:
"Like many Irish ladies who resided during the early part of life in
the country, Miss Elizabeth Sheridan was a firm believer in the
Banshi, a female daemon, attached to ancient Irish families. She
seriously maintained that the Banshi of the Sheridan family was heard
wailing beneath the windows of Quilca before the news arrived of Mrs
Frances Sheridan's death at Blois, thus affording them a
preternatural intimation of the impending melancholy event. A niece
of Miss Sheridan's made her very angry by observing that as Miss
Frances Sheridan was by birth a Chamberlaine, a family of English
extraction, she had no right to the guardianship of an Irish fairy,
and that, therefore, the Banshi must have made a mistake."
Now I certainly agree with Miss Sheridan's niece in doubting that the cry
heard before Mrs Frances Sheridan's death was that of the real Banshee;
but I do not doubt it because Mrs Frances Sheridan was of English
extraction, for the Banshee has frequently been heard before the death of
a wife whose husband was one of an ancient Irish clan--even though the
wife had no Irish blood in her at all, but I doubt it because the husband
of Mrs Frances Sheridan was one of a family who, not being of really
ancient Irish descent, does not, in my opinion, possess a Banshee.
In "Personal Sketches of his Own Times," by Sir Jonah Barrington, we find
(pp. 152-154, Vol. II.) the account of a ghostly experience of the author
and his wife, which experience the writer of the paragraph, referring to
this work in the notes to T. C. Croker's Banshee Stories, evidently
considered was closely associated with the Banshee.
At the time of the incident, Lord Rossmore was Commander-in-Chief of the
Forces in Ireland. He was a Scot by birth, but had come over to Ireland
when very young, and had obtained the post of page to the Lord-Lieutenant.
Fortune had favoured him at every turn. Not only had he been eminently
successful in the vocation he finally selected, but he had been equally
fortunate both with regard to love and money. The lady with whom he fell
in love returned his affections, and, on their marriage, brought him a
rich dowry. It was partly with her money that he purchased the estate of
Mount Kennedy, and built on it one of the noblest mansions in Wicklow. Not
very far from Mount Kennedy, and in the centre of what is termed the
golden belt of Ireland, stood Dunran, the residence of the Barringtons; so
that Lord Rossmore and the Barringtons were practically neighbours.
One afternoon at the drawing-room at Dublin Castle, during the Vice-royalty
of Earl Hardwick, Lord Rossmore met Lady Barrington, and gave her a most
pressing invitation to come to his house-party at Mount Kennedy the
following day.
"My little farmer," said he, addressing her by her pet name, "when you go
home, tell Sir Jonah that no business is to prevent him from bringing you
down to dine with me to-morrow. I will have no ifs in the matter--so tell
him that come he MUST."
Lady Barrington promised, and the following day saw her and Sir Jonah at
Mount Kennedy. That night, at about twelve, they retired to rest, and
towards two in the morning Sir Jonah was awakened by a sound of a very
extraordinary nature. It occurred first at short intervals and resembled
neither a voice nor an instrument, for it was softer than any voice, and
wilder than any music, and seemed to float about in mid-air, now in one
spot and now in another. To quote Sir Jonah's own language:
"I don't know wherefore, but my heart beat forcibly; the sound became
still more plaintive, till it almost died in the air; when a sudden
change, as if excited by a pang, changed its tone; it seemed descending. I
felt every nerve tremble: it was not a natural sound, nor could I make out
the point from whence it came. At length I awakened Lady Barrington, who
heard it as well as myself. She suggested that it might be an Aeolian harp;
but to that instrument it bore no resemblance--it was altogether a
different character of sound. My wife at first appeared less affected than
I; but subsequently she was more so. We now went to a large window in our
bedroom, which looked directly upon a small garden underneath. The sound
seemed then, obviously, to ascend from a grass plot immediately below our
window. It continued. Lady Barrington requested I would call up her maid,
which I did, and she was evidently more affected than either of us. The
sounds lasted for more than half an hour. At last a deep, heavy, throbbing
sigh seemed to come from the spot, and was shortly succeeded by a sharp,
low cry, and by the distinct exclamation, thrice repeated, of
'Rossmore!--Rossmore!--Rossmore!' I will not attempt to describe my own
feelings," Sir Jonah goes on. "The maid fled in terror from the window,
and it was with difficulty I prevailed on Lady Barrington to return to
bed; in about a minute after the sound died gradually away until all was
still."
Sir Jonah adds that Lady Barrington, who was not so superstitious as
himself, made him promise he would not mention the incident to anyone next
day, lest they should be the laughing stock of the place.
At about seven in the morning, Sir Jonah's servant, Lawler, rapped at the
bedroom door and began, "Oh, Lord, sir!", in such agitated tones, that Sir
Jonah at once cried out: "What's the matter?"
"Oh, sir," Lawler ejaculated, "Lord Rossmore's footman was running past my
door in great haste, and told me in passing that my lord, after coming
from the Castle, had gone to bed in perfect health (Lord Rossmore, though
advanced in years, had always appeared to be singularly robust, and Sir
Jonah had never once heard him complain he was unwell), but that about
two-thirty this morning his own man, hearing a noise in his master's bed
(he slept in the same room), went to him, and found him in the agonies of
death; and before he could alarm the other servants, all was over."
Sir Jonah remarks that Lord Rossmore was actually dying at the moment Lady
Barrington and he (Sir Jonah) heard his lordship's name pronounced; and he
adds that he is totally unequal to the task of accounting for the sounds
by any natural causes. The question that most concerns me is whether they
were due to the Banshee or not, and as Lord Rossmore was not apparently of
ancient Irish lineage, I am inclined to think the phenomena owed its
origin to some other class of phantasm; perhaps to one that had been
attached to Lord Rossmore's family in Scotland. Moreover, I have never
heard of the Banshee speaking as the invisible presence spoke on that
occasion; the phenomena certainly seems to me to be much more Scottish
than Irish.