The reticence people in general show towards having their names and houses mentioned in print has led me to substitute fictitious names in most of the cases referred to in this chapter.
In one of my former works I alluded to a phantasm with a pig's head I saw standing outside an old burial ground in Guilsborough, Northampton. Some years after the occurrence I was discussing the occult with my father-in-law, Henry Williams, M.D. (late of Chapel Place, Cavendish Square), and was very much surprised when he told me that he, too, had witnessed the same or a similar phenomena in Guilsborough. I append the statement he made with regard to it:—
"Guilsborough,
"Northampton,
"January 23, 1909.
"I well remember many years ago, when a boy, running upstairs into the top room of a certain house in Guilsborough and seeing a tall, thin figure of a man with an animal's head crouching on the bed. I was so frightened when I saw it that I ran out of the room as fast as I could.
"Henry W. Williams, M.D."
My father-in-law had certainly made no mention of what he had seen to me before he heard my experience, neither had I the slightest idea that such a phantasm had been encountered in the village by any one but myself. Close to the house where he saw the phenomena I believe an ancient sacrificial stone was once found, whilst in the same neighbourhood there are the remains of a barrow and numerous other evidences of the Stone Age; hence the pig-faced phantasm may have been either a Vice Elemental attracted to Guilsborough by the human blood once spilt on the sacrificial stone, or by certain crimes committed in and around the village in modern times, or by the thoughts of some peculiarly bestial-minded person, or people, buried in the now disused cemetery; or, again, the phantasm may have been the actual earth-bound spirit of some very vicious person, whose appearance would be in accordance with the life he or she led when on earth. Which of the two it is I cannot, of course, say: that is—for the present, at least—beyond human knowledge.
I have recorded another haunting of a similar nature.
Writing to me from Devizes on May 15th, 1910, Mr. "I. Walton" says:—
"Dear Sir,
"I have just been reading your book, 'Haunted Houses of London.' It recalls to my mind a hideous apparition which I witnessed about ten days ago, and which made such an impression on my mind that I send you particulars of it.
"I was on a visit to my two sons, who live at No. 37, M—— Square, Chelsea. On the first night of my visit I slept in a room on the third floor facing the Square. I have no knowledge of the science you profess, and no personal faith in supernatural apparition, but the spectacle I witnessed was so extraordinary that, by the light of your thrilling narratives, it looks as though I may have been sleeping in a room that has been the scene of a tragedy.
"The room was not utterly dark, and some light penetrated from the lamps in the Square, but as I lay with my face to the wall, all in front of me was dark.
"I fell asleep, and remained so for an hour or more, when I suddenly awoke with a great jerk, and found confronting me the most awful apparition you can imagine. It was a dwarfed, tubby figure with a face like a pig, perfectly naked, in a strong bright light. The whole figure resembled in appearance the scalded body of a pig of average size, but the legs and arms were those of a human being brutalised, male or female I could not say. In ten or fifteen seconds it vanished, leaving me in a profuse perspiration and trembling, from which I did not recover for some time. But I slept off the rest of the night.
"When the landlady came to call me (she slept on the third floor back) she pointed out that a picture on the connecting door had fallen down between my bed and the next room. Doubtless it was the fall of the picture that waked me up with a start. But what about the apparition? I can only assign it to some occult cause.
"I remain, dear Sir,
"Yours faithfully,
"'I. Walton.'" In this instance it is, of course, very difficult to tell whether the phenomena is Subjective or Objective. Presuming it to be Objective, which I am inclined to believe it was, then it was either the earth-bound spirit of some particularly vicious person who was in some way connected with the house, or else it was a Vice Elemental attracted to the house either by the foul thoughts of some occupant or by some murder formerly committed there.
Writing to me again on June 13th, 1910, Mr. "I. Walton" says:—
"Dear Sir,
"I am quite willing that you should find a place for my experience in your forthcoming book. I think I omitted one detail of the spectre: it had bright yellow hair worn in ringlets extending barely as far as the shoulders.
"Yours faithfully,
"'I. Walton.'"
Another case in which there is little or no doubt of the apparition being a Vice Elemental was related to me by Mrs. Bruce, whose husband was recently stationed in India. Her narrative is as follows:— "We once lived in a bungalow that had been built on the site of a house whose inhabitants had been barbarously murdered by the Sepoys during the Indian Mutiny, and we had not occupied it many days before we were disturbed by hearing a curious, crooning noise coming from various parts of the building. The moment we entered a room, whence the noise seemed to proceed, there was silence, while the instant our backs were turned it recommenced. We never saw anything, however, until one day when my husband, hearing the sounds, hurriedly entered the room in which he fancied he could locate them. He then saw the blurred outlines of something—he could only describe as semi-human—suddenly rise from one of the corners and dart past him. The disturbances were so worrying that we eventually left the house."
In this case the amount of blood spilt on the site of the bungalow would in itself be a sufficient cause for the hauntings, and my only surprise is that it did not attract many more Elementals of this species.
Miss Frances Sinclair had an uncanny experience whilst travelling by rail between Chester and London last autumn. On entering a tunnel, at about six in the evening, Miss Sinclair was quite positive there was no one in the compartment saving herself and her dog. Judge then her astonishment and dismay, when she suddenly saw, seated opposite her, the huddled-up figure of what she took to be a man with his throat cut! He had two protruding fishy eyes, which met hers in a glassy stare. He was dressed in mustard-coloured clothes, and had a black bag by his side. Miss Sinclair was at once seized with a violent impulse to destroy herself, and whilst her dog was burying its nose in the folds of her dress and exhibiting every indication of terror, Miss Sinclair was doing all she could to prevent herself jumping out of the carriage. Just when she thought she must succumb and was on the verge of opening the door, the tunnel ended, the phantasm vanished, and her longing for self-destruction abruptly ceased. She had never before, she assures me, experienced any such sensations.
Here, of course, it is impossible to say whether what she witnessed was Subjective or Objective, but assuming the latter, then I am inclined to think that the apparition, judging by its appearance and the desires it generated, was a Vice Elemental, and not a Phantasm of the Dead. It need not necessarily have been attached to the compartment in which she happened to see it, but may have haunted the tunnel itself, manifesting itself in various ways.
An author, whom I will designate Mr. Reed, told me a few weeks ago, that he and his brother, on going upstairs one evening, had seen the figure of a man with a cone-shaped head suddenly stalk past them, and, bounding up the stairs, vanish in the gloom. Though naturally very surprised, neither Mr. Reed nor his brother were in the least degree frightened. On the contrary, they were greatly interested, as the phantasm answered so well to their ideas of a bogey! As both brothers saw it, and neither of them were in the least degree nervous, I am inclined to think that this phantom was a Vagrarian, and that its presence in the house was due either to some prehistoric relic that lay buried near at hand, or to the loneliness and isolation of the place.
Mrs. H. Dodd had a strange experience with an Elemental. "Waking up one night many years ago," she tells me, "I saw a tall figure standing by my bedside. It appeared to have a light inside it, and gave the same impression that a hand does when held in front of a candle. I could see the red of the flesh and dark-blue lines of the ribs—dash;the whole was luminous. What the face was like I do not know, as I never got so far, being much too frightened to look. It bent over me, and I hid my head in the bedclothes with fright. When I told my parents about it at breakfast, to my surprise no one laughed at me; why, I do not know, unless the house was haunted and they knew it. My brother said he had seen a tall figure disappear into the wall of his room in the night."
As Mrs. Dodd adds that a near relative of hers died about that time, it is, of course, possible that the phantasm was that of the latter, although from the possibilities of grotesqueness suggested by what she saw of the ghost, as well as from the fact that the house was newly built in a neighbourhood peculiarly favourable to Elementals, I am inclined to assign it to that class of apparitions.
Some months ago I received from the Baroness Von A—— the following account of a haunting experienced by her family:—
"Dear Mr. O'Donnell" (she writes),
"I should be much obliged if you would tell me the meaning of the things witnessed by my grandmother, Lady W——, widow of General Sir B. W——. I must first tell you that she was always a most truthful, sensible and unimaginative woman, that I am quite sure she would not have invented or added to anything she told so often. The story is thus:—
"During the fifties or sixties, she and my grandfather, then Colonel W——, went to stay with some very old friends of theirs, Colonel and Mrs. V——, at their place in the country: I forget the name, but think it was near Worcester. Neither of my grand-parents had ever heard of anything supernatural in connection with the V——'s house, yet my grandmother told me she felt a sense of the most acute discomfort the minute she entered her friends' house. This, however, passed off until, having occasion to go upstairs to her room after dinner to fetch her needlework, she felt it again on crossing the hall. Scarcely had she started to mount the stairs than she distinctly heard footsteps behind her. She stopped, so did they; so, thinking it a trick of imagination, she went on, when the footsteps went on, too. They could not possibly be the echo of hers, as she heard the sound of her own, and the others were quite different, lighter and shorter. They followed her to the door of her bedroom, the door of which she quickly shut and bolted, as she was feeling very frightened, but all the time she felt the footsteps were waiting for her outside. At last she made up her mind to go down again, but scarcely had she emerged from her room and started to go down the corridor, when the footsteps recommenced. Thoroughly frightened, she ran to the drawing-room, never stopping till she was in the midst of her friends, but hearing all the while the light steps flying after her. They stopped only when she entered the drawing-room. On Mrs. V—— remarking on her pale face, my grandmother told her what had happened. Mrs. V—— then announced that the footsteps were a common occurrence, that nearly every one in the house had heard them, and that a thorough investigation had been made without result—there was no explanation. My grandmother heard the footsteps on several other occasions.
"The other manifestations occurred during her stay in the same house. It was some days after the last occurrence, that my grandfather had occasion to go up to town with Colonel V——, leaving my grandmother alone. Quite contrary to her usual habit, when bedtime came she felt unaccountably nervous, and therefore asked a friend, Miss R——, who was also a guest at the V——'s, to stay with her for the night. They went to bed and to sleep, but not for long. They were both awakened by the clock on the landing outside striking twelve, when they both sat up in bed simultaneously, owing to their hearing the most unaccountable knocking over their heads, although, otherwise, the house was absolutely silent. They listened, and heard it again and again, and my grandmother said it sounded to them both as if nails were being driven into a coffin. The knocking continued for some time, until, unable to bear it any longer, Miss R—— jumped out of bed and said, 'Well! I'm going to see what it is; it is evidently coming from the room on the floor above, just over us, and I must find out.' My grandmother volunteered to go with her, and they crept up to the second storey, the knocking getting louder each step they took. On arriving at the door whence the sounds—which were very distinct now—proceeded, they found the door was locked, and as they turned the handle for the second time the knocking ceased, to be replaced by the most gruesome and hellish laughter. Too frightened to go on with their investigations, they fled downstairs, the laughter continuing as they ran. Immediately they entered their room the knocking recommenced, and went on for a considerable time, and when it stopped, being both too frightened to sleep, they lit a lamp and talked till the morning. When the housemaid brought them their tea, she remarked on their worn looks, and on being told the reason, said, 'Oh, dear! That's Mr. Harry's room, and it's always kept locked when he is away. If only nothing has happened to him!'
"During the day a telegram came to say that the eldest boy, Harry, who was then in London, had died during the night; they did not even know he was ill.
"One thing I ought to mention is that a large cage of doves stood outside on the second floor landing. As a rule, these birds are frightened at the smallest sound, but my grandmother says she noticed that they never moved, although the noise of the knocking and laughter was enough to waken any one."
The Baroness Von A—— goes on to ask if I think the disturbances were due to Phantasms of the Dead or to Elementals. I told her that, in my opinion, the knockings and laughter were due to one and the same agency, namely, that of an Elemental which had attached itself to the house in the same way as other Elementals—commonly known as Family Ghosts—attach themselves to families. Very probably the Elemental was attracted to the house in the first instance by some crime committed there, or it may even have been attracted to the soil prior to the building of the house. Such spirits vary in their attitude to Man. "The Yellow Boy," for instance, that haunted a certain room at Knebworth, appearing periodically to whoever was sleeping there, and by gestures describing the manner of their approaching death, did not, when giving the warning, exhibit any glee or malice: his actions were perfectly mechanical and his expression neutral. For example, when the apparition appeared to Lord Castlereagh, it merely drew its hand three times across its throat, thus predicting the way his lordship would die. (Lord Castlereagh shortly afterwards committed suicide by cutting his throat.)
Other cases of death-warning in which there is no apparent malice are "The Radiant Boy" at Corby Castle, when the apparition is benevolent rather than otherwise, and the "Drummer" at Cortachy Castle, when the phenomenon appears to be mischievous rather than malicious.
On the other hand, that there is evil design and intention on the part of some death-warning phenomena is quite evident, to my mind, from the case of the clock to which I have alluded in Chapter I.; a case which also proves, I think, that the fates of some, if not indeed of all of us, are pre-ordained, and that there are certain orders of Elementals that not only have the power to warn us of these fates, but that can also be instrumental in accomplishing them. For instance, re the clock that struck thirteen, and the lady who was killed in the taxi-cab accident, it will be remembered that the latter was of a very extraordinary nature—so extraordinary, in fact, that it really seems as if the Elemental was the actual contriver of it—that it deliberately plotted the disaster, and that it was present at the time, predominating the thoughts and guiding the hands of the two drivers as they collided with one another. Why it did so is difficult to conceive, unless, preferring solitude for its domain, it regarded Mrs. Wright as an obstacle in its way, and an intruder where it had the sole privilege of haunting. Possibly, too, the house in which Mrs. Wright lived may be under some curse or ban, which necessitates those having the temerity to occupy it, paying the penalty of so doing with their lives, the time and nature of their deaths being decided by the phenomenon in charge.
This supposition—namely, that Elementals can be instrumental in working evil—coincides with my theory that diseases are primarily due to powers or spirits antagonistic to the human race, and that such powers or spirits exist in multitudinous forms; but whereas Morbas have the widest range possible, the other two species of Elementals, i.e., Vice Elementals and Clanogrians, or Family Ghosts, are confined to certain families and houses.
Miss Rolands, a friend of mine, who is an artist, gives me an experience that once happened to her.
"I am afraid I will tell this story very badly," she begins, "but I will do my little best. I remember it all so well, though I was little more than a child at the time. I lived with my grandparents, aunts, and sister in an old house in Birkenhead. The house was a very high one. It had both attics and cellars, and in one of the attics there was a bloodstain, due, so I was told, to a murder of a particularly horrible nature, that had once been perpetrated there, and on account of which the house was reputed to be haunted. Rumour said that in bygone days the house had been inhabited by priests, and that it was one of them who had been killed, his body being taken away in a barrel! In spite, however, of the bloodstain and the grim tales in connection with it, my sisters and I, at the commencement of our tenancy of the house, used to play in the attic, and nothing happened. But at last there came a night when we awoke to the fact that there was a ghastly amount of truth in what we had heard. Some time after we had all gone to bed, we were all aroused (even my practical old grandfather) by three loud knocks on one of the doors which each of us fancied was our own. Then there was silence, and then, from the very top of the house where the attic was situated, a barrel was rolled down the stairs!—bump! bump! bump! When it reached each separate landing, there was a short interval as if the barrel was settling itself before beginning its next journey, and then again, bump! bump! fainter and fainter, until it reached the cellar, when the sounds ceased.
When this stage was reached, we used to light tapers and all look out of our respective doors with white scared faces and hair that literally felt as if it were standing on end, and then, after a few seconds of breathless silence we flew with one accord to one room, where we remained, packed like herrings, till the morning.
This strange, mysterious occurrence happened at least three times to my knowledge, and I can vouch for its absolute truth, as can my aunts and sister, and as could my grandparents, if they were alive.
Without any accurate details with regard to the murder, it is impossible to say definitely to what class of phantasms this haunting was due. One might attribute it entirely to the work of Impersonating Elementals, entirely to phantasms of the Dead, or to both Impersonating Elementals and Phantasms of the Dead.
I have recently been seeking for information concerning Pixies, and as the result of my enquiries have received replies from several people (whose social position and consequent sense of honour are a guarantee of their veracity) declaring they have seen this species of Elemental.
One of my informants, Miss White, who lives in West Cornwall, tells me that on one occasion, when she was crossing some very lonely fields, almost within sight of Castle-on-Dinas, she suddenly saw a number of little people rise from among the boulders of granite on the top of a hill facing her; they were all armed with spears and engaged in a kind of mimic battle, but, on Miss White approaching them, they instantly vanished, nor did she ever see them again.
I can quite imagine that the hill, where Miss White alleges she saw these little phantasms, is haunted, as the whole of that neighbourhood (with which I have been acquainted for some years) is most suggestive of every kind of Elemental. There are, for example, on Castle-on-Dinas, the remains of an ancient Celtic village, and I have no doubt the locality has experienced many violent deaths, and that many prehistoric people lie buried there.
Another of my correspondents, Mrs. Bellew, says:—"In the winter of 1888-89 I was suffering from delicate lungs, and was advised to have a fire in my bedroom night and morning. One night, between eleven and twelve, I was awakened suddenly by a coal falling into the fender, and heard a small voice, resembling the squeaking of a mouse, say, 'We did that! you didn't know it,' then there followed shrill laughter. I sat up in bed so as to command a view of the fireplace, and saw sitting on a live coal two little beings about six inches high, with human faces and limbs and white skins.
"Quite naturally I answered, 'I knew perfectly well it was you.' At the sound of my voice they vanished at once, and I, only then, realised how strange an experience I had had. The whole incident only occupied a minute or two."
Of course, it is very difficult to think that this was not entirely subjective, and were it not for the fact that Mrs. Bellew is so positive that the phenomena were objective, I should be inclined to believe otherwise. Still, it is very delightful to think there may be such a pleasant type of Elemental.
An interesting incident occurred to the Rev. G. Chichester, with whom I had some correspondence two years ago. It was the only psychic experience he had had, and took place at a Druid's Circle in the North of England. As he was examining the stones of the Circle, he suddenly became aware of a "death-like smell" (to quote his own words) and the sense of some approaching presence. Retreating hastily to a distance, he then perceived a figure clad in white or light grey glide from the adjoining wood and vanish near the largest stone of the cromlech. The Circle was in a pine wood, and under one of the stones which had been dug up in the late seventies of the last century an urn had been found, which urn is now in a museum. The Rev. G. Chichester informed me that manifestations of an unpleasant nature had also followed the lifting of a stone in a celebrated cromlech in Cumberland, so that he was inclined to think psychic phenomena invariably followed the disturbance of any of the stones. Though Mr. Chichester did not give me any very definite idea of what he saw, it seems to me highly probable that it was a Barrowvian, or the phantasm of a prehistoric man; the latter, being thoroughly animal, would possess no soul, and his spirit would doubtless remain earth-bound ad infinitum. On the other hand, of course, it might have been a Vagrarian.
Of the appearance of spirit lights I have had abundant evidence. Mrs. W——, of Guilsborough, with whom I am well acquainted, informs me that on awaking one night she found the room full of the most beautiful coloured lights, that floated in mid-air round the bed. They were so pretty that she was not in the least alarmed, but continued to watch them till they suddenly vanished. The darkness of the night, the inclemency of the weather, and the situation of the room precluded the probability of the lights being produced by any one outside the house.
In the memoirs of a famous lady artist I have just been editing, I have given an account of blue lights seen by her and her husband in their bedroom. On this occasion the manifestations filled the eye-witnesses with horror, and the husband, in his endeavours to ward them off the bed, struck at them with his hand, when they divided, re-uniting again immediately afterwards.
I am inclined to think that in both instances the lights were due to the presence of some form of Elemental in the initial stage of materialisation; but whereas the beauty of the lights and the absence of fear in the first case suggests that the phantasms belonged to some agreeable type of Elemental, very likely of the order of Pixies, the uniform blueness and the presence of fear in the latter case suggests that the lights were due to some terrifying and vicious form of Elemental, that was in all probability permanently attached to the house.
These lights seem to resemble in some respects those seen from time to time in Wales, though in the latter case the phenomena appear with the purpose of predicting death. A description is given of them in "Frazer's Magazine." They would seem to be closely allied with the corpse candles, or Canhyllan Cyrth, also seen in Wales, an account of which is given in "News from the Invisible World," a work by T. Charley, who collected his information (so I understand from an announcement on the title-page) from the works of Baxter, Wesley, Simpson, and other writers. These candles are so called because their light resembles in shape that of a candle; in colour it is sometimes white, sometimes of various shades of blue. If it is pale blue and small, it predicts the death of an infant; if big, an adult. The writer then narrates several cases relative to the appearance of these lights, the concluding one running thus: "About thirty-four or thirty-five years since, one Jane Wyatt, my wife's sister, being nurse to Baronet Rud's three eldest children and (the lady being deceased) the lady controller of that house, going late into a chamber where the maidservants lay, saw there no less than five of these lights together. It happened a while after, the chamber being newly plastered and a grate of coal fire therein kindled to hasten the drying up of the plastering, that five of the maidservants went there to bed, as they were wont; but in the morning they were all dead, being suffocated in their sleep with the steam of the newly tempered lime and coal. This was at Langathen, in Carmarthenshire."
These lights do not appear to have ever reached any further stage of materialisation, though I imagine they possess that capability and that they are in reality some peculiarly grim form of Elemental—as grim, maybe, as the drummers and pipers of Scotland, and other Clanogrians or Family Ghosts, with which they would seem to be closely connected.
Of Noises, that are popularly attributed to Poltergeists, but which I think are due either to Phantasms of the Dead or to Vagrarian, Impersonating or Vice Elementals, I have received many accounts.
Miss Dulcie Vincent, sister to the Society beauty (whose experience I shall give later on), and herself a well-known beauty, says:—
"When I was staying with my uncle some years ago in his house in Norfolk, we used to hear the most remarkable noises at night, which no one could in any way explain. For example, there were tremendous crashes as if all the crockery in the house was being dashed to pieces on the kitchen tiles, whilst at other times we heard heavy thuds and bumps as if furniture were being moved about wholesale from one room to another. One night, the noises were so great that my uncle took his gun and went downstairs, making sure that there were burglars in the house; but the moment he opened the door of the room whence the sounds proceeded, there was an intense hush, and nothing was to be seen. A few nights after this incident, I was awakened by hearing my bedroom door slowly open. I looked, but saw no one. Seized with ungovernable terror, I then buried my head under the bedclothes, when I distinctly heard soft footsteps approach the bed. There was then a silence, during which I instinctively felt some antagonistic presence close beside me. Then, to my indescribable terror, the bedclothes were gently pulled from my face, and I felt something—I knew not what—was peering down at me and trying to make me look. Exerting all my will power, however, I am thankful to say I kept my eyes tightly closed, and the Thing at length stealthily withdrew, nor did I ever experience it again.
"My uncle's house was built on the site of some old cottages, in one of which lived a mad woman, but whether the disturbances were due to her phantasm or not, I cannot, of course, say."
Neither can I! though I should think it not at all improbable, as many hauntings of a similar nature are undoubtedly caused by the earth-bound spirits of the mad, which accounts for the senseless crashings and thumpings!
Miss Featherstone, a lady residing in Hampshire, has also had an experience with similar phenomena. "About six years ago," she informs me, "after my sister's death, I had a very unpleasant form of Psychism" (I quote her own words), "which has only lately ceased. Things used to disappear and reappear in a very strange way. Though it was apparently uncanny, it was, of course, difficult to prove absolutely they had not been moved by physical means. The first time the phenomena took place was during the visit of a very practical friend. She had been writing, and had put her materials together, and was walking out of the room, when her pen was whisked out of her hand. She looked about everywhere, she shook her dress (which was quite a new one), but the pen had vanished—it was nowhere to be seen. Then she went upstairs, put on her walking shoes, hat, and gloves, and went to the railway station, came straight home, and, on taking off her outdoor things, discovered the missing pen inside a tailor's stitching across the front of her dress! She could not find any opening where it could have got in, and was obliged to unpick part of the dress to get it out. I wanted her to send an account of the incident to the S.P.R., but as she had a strong aversion to anything in the nature of publicity, I could not persuade her to do so. After this things constantly disappeared, and reappeared in a prominent position after every one had searched the place. I think, and hope, however, that this has now ceased, as it procured me a very bad reputation with several servants, who emphatically declared I was in league with the Evil One."
In a subsequent letter she writes:—"The house in which my Poltergeist experiences took place was in Dawlish, but the annoyances followed me to London. I had been sitting at friendly sÉances with one or two friends at that time. At the beginning the phenomena seemed in some way associated with an old cupboard which I had bought second-hand, and which I still possess."
If the disturbances were not brought about by human agency, then I think it highly probable that both the sÉances at which Miss Featherstone had been attending and the oak chest may have been responsible for them. I am quite sure that whenever a genuine spirit manifestation takes place at a sÉance, that that manifestation is due either to the earth-bound spirits of people who were merely silly when in the body (and of these there have been, still are, and always will be a superabundance), to the earth-bound spirits of people who were bestial and lustful, or simply due to mischievous Impersonating and other kinds of Elementals. These latter, when once encouraged, are extremely difficult to shake off. They attach themselves to certain of the sitters, whom they follow to their homes, which they subsequently haunt. I have known many such instances; hence, I think it very probable that a mischievous Elemental attached itself to Miss Featherstone at one of the sÉances she attended, and, following her from place to place, pestered her with its unpleasant attentions. On the other hand, it is quite possible that the oak chest was haunted by some species of Elemental, as is often the case with pieces of furniture, either old in themselves or constructed of antique wood—wood, for instance, that comes from a bog, an ancient forest, a mountain top, or any other spot frequented by Vagrarians.
Miss Featherstone gives me another experience she once had, and which is not without interest.
"About seven years ago," she says, "my two sisters and I were staying at a farmhouse near Chagford, on Dartmoor, between Thridly and Gidleigh. We started one day to walk to the latter place, and went through the village and up a lane beyond, on to the open moor, where we found ourselves on a level piece of ground, with Kes Tor close by to our left, whilst on our right were three new-looking houses, with little gardens and wicket gates leading to them. I went into one to enquire if there were any rooms to let for the following year, and was shown over it, while my sisters waited on the moor for me. Strange to say, I forgot to ask the name and address of the place, but it seemed on a perfectly straight road from Gidleigh. When we got back to Chagford, we asked our landlady where we had been, and she said the name of the place was Berry Down; so the next year we wrote there for rooms, but on arriving were astonished to find quite a different place—not on the open moor at all. We then set about looking for the three houses we had seen. We walked round Gidleigh in every direction, enquiring of the postman, clergymen, farmers, and villagers, but none knew of any such houses, nor could we ever find the remotest traces of them. The day on which we saw them was bright and sunny, so that we could not possibly have been mistaken, and, moreover, we rested on the moor opposite them for some time, so that had they been mere optical illusions, we should have eventually become aware of the fact. Several old Gidleigh cottagers to whom we narrated the incident were of the opinion we had been 'Pixie led.' Is such a thing possible?"
There are instances I know—though I cannot at present recall one—where people have seen and entered phantom houses, just as sailors have witnessed the phenomenon of the phantom ship—which I have heard has been seen again comparatively recently off the North Cornwall coast—but whether such visions are due to Pixies, or any other kind of Elemental, I cannot, with certainty, say. Taking into consideration, however, the numerous tricks Elementals do play, and how they very often, I believe, suggest dreams, I see no reason why they should not have been responsible for the delusion of the three cottages.
CHAPTER IV.
PHANTASMS OF THE DEAD.
Though I head this chapter "Phantasms of the Dead," it is almost impossible to discriminate between Phantasms of the Dead, i.e., the actual earth-bound souls of the people, and Elementals, whose special function it is to impersonate them. In the case of murder, whereas, I think it quite possible that the spirit of the actual murderer appears, I think it highly unlikely that the soul of his victim (save, of course, where the latter has led a vicious life) is equally earth-bound, but that what we see is merely an impersonating Elemental, who, in company with the earth-bound soul of the homicide, nightly (or periodically) re-enacts the tragedy.
In cases of suicide, too, I think the nature of the Phantasms that subsequently appears largely depends on the life led by the suicide—if vicious the hauntings would be due to his earth-bound spirit, if moral to an Impersonating Elemental, but in either case Vice Elementals would in all probability be attached to the spot, when the hauntings would at once become dual (which so frequently happens). Where the suicide is a criminal lunatic or epileptic imbecile, I believe the phenomenon seen is his or her actual spirit—I do not think such people have souls. By spirit, I mean the mere animal side of man's nature—that Force, which is solely directed to the attainment and furtherance of carnal desires; by soul, that Force, which recognizes and strives after all that tends to make the mind pure and beautiful.
With regard to wraithes, i.e., apparitions seen shortly after death, I think that in the majority of cases at all events, it is the actual superphysical body of the deceased that appears, prior to its removal to other spheres, and that, except during this interval, the souls of the rational and moral never return to the material world. In all other cases of hauntings the phenomena are due either to the earth-bound spirits of the depraved, to the silly, i.e., those who, without being actually cruel or lustful, have no capacity for the culture of mind; to criminal lunatics, and epileptic imbeciles; or else to Elementals, benevolent, neutral and otherwise.
CASES.
Mrs. P., the wife of an Army Medical Officer, living in my neighbourhood, says: "Some years ago I was travelling to Southampton, with my little daughter, a child of four. My nephew, who lived in Mare Street, Hackney, asked me to pass the night at his house. It was a large building, with long passages, out of which many doors opened, and, close to the back of it, there lay a cemetery.
"We arrived, to find no one at home but the servants. My nephew had left a message for me, asking me to make myself thoroughly 'at home' and go to bed, if I felt tired after the journey.
"My little daughter and I shared a big room with a double bed. I did not sleep for some time on account of a curious noise. Though there was no wind, all the doors in the passage rattled on their hinges and bumped about, as if someone was going along trying the handles. The noise lasted for some time, and disturbed me a great deal so that I did not sleep at all well.
"In the morning my nephew said, 'Well, Aunt, I hope you were comfortable and had a good night?' 'Oh, everything was comfortable,' I replied, 'but I did not pass a good night. There is something very strange about the doors in your upstairs passage. They seemed to be kicking about on their hinges for hours.'
"He looked at me in rather a curious way, and said, 'I suppose you did not know that my mother died in the room where you slept—in fact, in the very same bed.'
"'Indeed, I did not,' I answered, 'and, if I had known it, I should never have accepted your hospitality.'
"Well, I went on my journey to India, and thought no more about the matter. But, when I returned, a year or two later, I happened to speak of it to one of my nieces, who instantly gave me her experience in the same house.
"'After our mother died,' she said, 'the room was shut up and it remained so for some time. Then my sister and I decided that we should use it, and we slept there together. The first night we were not disturbed, but the second night I woke and saw our mother sitting in a chair before the large dressing glass. My sister was asleep, but I suppose I must have made some movement which roused her, for she awoke, and, without a word from me, cried out—'There's mother! Mother has come back to us!' Thus, you see, we both saw the apparition plainly and had not the least doubt as to who it was."
The manifestations in this case were, I think, due to a benevolent Elemental that impersonated the dead lady with the object of conveying some message from the soul of the latter to her living relatives and friends. The impression conveyed by the phenomenon to the girls, would be that their mother was still cognisant of them; whilst the Elemental would, in all probability, find some means of communicating the welcome tidings to the mother that her daughters had not forgotten her.
Mrs. P—— narrated to me another case. "My husband," she said, "attended a certain old man and his wife who were very devoted to one another. They were quite elderly people, but sound and sane—not at all fanciful or inclined to be foolish. When the old man died, his wife felt his loss most dreadfully. She never quite got over it, and, when she took to her bed with her last illness, she was constantly saying that she wished she could see her husband again. Her attendants told her that she ought not to say such a thing, but the wish grew upon her, till, one day, being alone, she spoke to him and begged him to come back.
"Immediately he appeared to be sitting in a chair by her bedside. But, though her wish was gratified, she was terrified.
"'Go away, go away!' she cried, 'I don't want you.' The vision vanished. Some few days later, she died. I often used to sit with her, and I am sure that she was quite reasonable and in full possession of her wits."
Here, of course, one has to entirely depend upon the evidence of the deceased who, being ill at the time, might easily have been the victim of an illusion—at least so it seems to me. I merely quote the case to show that I am not always ready to accept as objective the phenomena witnessed by a single individual.
The case of Miss V. St. Jermyn, a lady living in the North of London, is a great deal stronger.
"My father," she says, "was the Rector of an immense parish, which was divided at his death. He had ten curates. The senior curate, who was appointed to succeed him in the more important division, was shortly afterwards made a Canon, so I shall speak of him as Canon Jervis. He owed everything he had to my father, and he was always ready to say this and talk of his obligations to my father. I mention this to show the sort of regard he had for my father. We on our side, my brothers, sisters and I, always looked on him as a very great friend, having known him all our lives. There was never anyone with whose appearance we were more familiar, and he certainly was rather remarkable looking. Standing at least six feet and proportionately broad, he had a square face, rough hewn features and very thick crÊpÉ hair, which was getting grizzled. He was always very well dressed. Everyone was much struck with his appearance and I was constantly being asked who he was.
"Early one January (about the 3rd, I think), some years ago, he died, and we were all so grieved that we at once wrote expressing our sympathy to his family. We certainly thought about him a good deal, though his death was not one of those great sorrows which leave no room in one's mind for the remembrance of anything else.
"About the 13th of February (of that year), my brother, sister and myself went to tea with a friend, a well-known artist at the Pembroke Studios, Kensington. It was a very pleasant party and we stayed late; indeed, we were nearly the last to leave. For about fifteen minutes before we left the Studios, I was talking to our host, who was showing us a curious old French bible with coloured illustrations. I mention this to show how my mind had been engaged.
"After leaving the studio, on our way to the High Street, Kensington, we had to pass along one side of Edwardes' Square. There the houses have little gardens with iron railings and the pathway is very narrow. We were walking one after the other, my brother in front, my sister next, and I last, when, suddenly, I saw Canon Jervis as clearly and plainly as I have ever in my life seen anyone before or since. He passed me on the side next the railings. I cannot in any way explain why I did, or said, nothing at the time, saving that I was too overcome with amazement. We went on and got into an omnibus, which took us to the street where we live. As we walked along the latter, I again saw the Canon coming down a side street and my sister immediately exclaimed: 'There is Canon Jervis! looking just as if he were alive!' My brother, who was a little way in front of us, did not speak—he had seen nothing.
"Looking back on the incident I cannot explain why we neither attempted to look after or follow him. But I think most people at the time of seeing an apparition seem to be in a sense paralysed with astonishment and quite lose their presence of mind."
As the manifestation occurred so soon after the Canon's death, I am inclined to think that in this instance it was a bona fide phantasm of the Dead.
A case of a haunting with a purpose was related to me recently by a Mrs. Craven. Whilst visiting at a country house, Mrs. Craven often used to retire to the library for a few minutes' quiet reading, when she invariably found a priest sitting there, in a peculiarly pensive attitude. Wondering who he was, as she never saw him in any other part of the house, but not liking to disturb him, Mrs. Craven used to sit and steal furtive glances at him from over her book, until she felt she could no longer stand being in his presence, when she made her escape as silently as possible from the room. This went on for some days, until determining one morning to brave it out, she remained in her seat till the priest somewhat electrified her by suddenly pointing in a very agitated manner to the book shelves. Thinking him queerer than ever, but attributing his inertness to some possible physical affliction, Mrs. Craven went to the bookcase and after some trouble discovered the book he wanted. But on bringing it to him, he motioned her to turn over the leaves, and to her astonishment the book seemed to open at the place he indicated, where she perceived a loose sheet of paper covered with writing. Obeying his tacit injunctions she threw the document into the fire, whereupon the priest at once vanished.
Much startled, Mrs. Craven related what had occurred to the hostess, who coolly informed her that the library was well known to be haunted by just such an apparition as she had described, which, however, only appeared periodically. So far, Mrs. Craven does not think it has been seen again.
The identity of the priest being unknown, one cannot say for certain whether this phenomenon was a phantasm of the Dead or an Impersonating Elemental, though, from the lives of self-indulgence led by so many priests in the past, I am inclined to believe it was a genuine phantasm of the Dead. I think the incident of the document is quite sufficient in itself to prove the manifestations were objective.
There is a well authenticated story current in Clifton (Bristol) of an apparition appearing (in the home of a well-known professional man) comparatively recently, with a purpose.
Miss Debrett, an artist belonging to one of the Cornish Art Colonies, had a curious experience at Moret, which experience I will tell in her own words:—
"From Paris to Moret-sur-Loing is not a very long run, two hours at the most. My friend, an artist, and myself went there in the month of July. We 'put up' at the Hotel de la Chalette. We had rooms adjoining one another, my friend using hers as a studio in the daytime. My room was very close, the roof sloped horribly and I experienced a queer shrinking sensation the moment I entered it. However, overcoming such feelings I resolved to sleep there and say nothing of my misgivings to my friend. At two o'clock in the morning of my first night there, I was awakened by little tappings and a feeling of terror. I tried in vain to sleep but could not, the presence of some ghost-like creature was strongly about me. I lit my candle and placed it on the stand beside my bed, trying to assure myself that this at least would protect me from apparitions, but the feeling of the invisible presence remained. I was immeasurably relieved when morning came, though I did not mention a word of what had happened to my friend.
"Night after night the sensations were repeated with ever increasing intensity, until I could instinctively feel the presence of a woman who appeared to be enduring the most severe mental and physical pain. I could feel her close to me, bending backwards and forwards and writhing to and fro, and a deadly fear seized me lest she would clutch hold of me in her throes of agony. Once I saw her shadow on the wall. Apart from the unmistakeable likeness it bore to a woman, I am sure it was her shadow, as I looked carefully about the room, removing sundry articles of furniture to assure myself the phenomenon was not due to them. It was not, for whatever I did in no way disturbed it—it still remained plainly and ominously outlined on the wall.
"About the second week of my stay in Moret-sur-Loing, I was taken ill with a violent cold and feverish pains. I could not discover any cause, though my friend attributed it to a night's rowing on the river Loing. For a few days I was confined to my room and my only consolation was to look at a little pot of flowers which I had bought at the local market. The flowers were bright scarlet and in pleasant contrast to the general gloominess of the apartment. At last, however, utterly worn out with my illness and the long succession of harassing nights, I persuaded my friend to leave the hotel, which she reluctantly did, and we returned to England.
"On our way home we met a fellow artist who told us she had also been staying quite recently at Moret, and then it transpired that she, too, had had rooms at the Hotel de la Chalette, but had given them up as they were so depressing. Upon hearing this I related my experiences, whereupon she exclaimed, 'How odd! A girl whom I knew very well used to go very often to the Hotel de la Chalette, and occupied the very room you slept in. She was very much attached to the place and when she was dying in England continually expressed a longing to be there. She died in the very greatest agony—just such agony as that of the woman you describe—and fought against death to the very last. She was most unresigned and rebellious. I wonder if the sensations you experienced were in any way due to her?'"
I think so without a doubt, and that the phantasm Miss Debrett saw is either that of the earth-bound spirit of the unhappy girl who, when dying, wished herself at the Hotel de la Chalette, or that of an impersonating Elemental;—let us hope it is the latter. Death wishes are, I am sure, frequently fulfilled, and, consequently, cannot be regarded both by utterer and audience with too much seriousness. The strong desire of the girl to cling to life—on this earth—proving that her spiritual aspirations were strictly limited—was almost a sufficient guarantee that her spirit would remain earth-bound.
Miss Viola Vincent, a well-known Society beauty, has furnished me with an account of a house presumably haunted by a Phantasm of the Dead. It is a large country house not very far from London, and the case was reported to Miss Vincent by an old servant of the name of Garth. Garth, who had no idea at the time that the house was haunted, was taking a short nap on her bed one afternoon when she heard the door slowly open and on looking up, saw to her astonishment a little sinister old man, who tiptoed up to her bed and, leaning over her, placed his finger on his lips as if to enjoin silence (an unnecessary precaution as Garth was far too terrified either to utter a sound or to move). On perceiving her fright, a subtle smile of satisfaction stole over the man's face, which Garth describes as yellow and wizened. He left the bed and, turning round, glided surreptitiously through the open doorway. Greatly mystified, Garth mentioned the affair to the other servants, who, instead of laughing at her, at once exclaimed, "Why, you've seen old S——. He committed a murder, just outside the door of your room, many years ago, and is frequently seen about the house and grounds. If you examine the boarding in the passage carefully, you will see the bloodstains." As Garth refused to sleep in the room again, a valet of one of the visitors was put there, and he experienced precisely the same phenomenon.
Garth constantly saw the phantasm of the man in various parts of the building. Sometimes she would meet him face to face on a staircase, sometimes he would creep stealthily after her, down one of the numerous, gloomy corridors. Indeed, she never seemed to be free from him, and, in the end, her nerves became so upset that, although the situation was an excellent one, she was obliged to relinquish it. When in the orchard, Garth, on several occasions, heard the sound of galloping horses and saw the misty figures of two people engaged in earnest conversation. On approaching them, however, they invariably melted into fine air. Miss Vincent enquired into the case, and, eventually, got into communication with other people who had witnessed the same phenomena.
I think it is highly probable that the apparition of the old man, at any rate, was a phantasm of the dead, that is to say, the earth-bound spirit of the murderer; for despite the tendency there is nowadays for pseudo-humanitarians to sympathise with the perpetrators of revolting and cruel murders, it is very certain that the Higher Occult Powers hold no such erroneously lenient views, and that he who spills human blood is bound by that blood to the earth. Hence murderers—or at least such murderers as are not genuinely repentent—are chained for an unlimited time to the scenes of their crimes, which they are compelled willy-nilly to re-enact nightly.
Another case of haunting by the phantasm of a murderer, or murderers, was told me by Miss Dalrymple, aunt of the famous singer, T.C. Dalrymple. Her experiences began the night of her arrival at "The Lichens," the house her nephew was then renting, near Felixstowe.
On retiring to rest she found the servants had made a very big fire in her room, and growing somewhat apprehensive about it, she got out of bed and took some of it off. Then, thinking that her alarm was rather foolish, and that, as there was a proportionately large fender, no danger could possibly arise, she put the coal on again and got back into bed. A few minutes afterwards the room was pervaded with a current of icy cold air, that blew over the bed and rustled through her hair. The next instant, she felt a cold, heavy hand laid on one of her shoulders, and she was steadily and mercilessly pressed down and down. Her terror was now so intense that she could neither move nor articulate a sound, and she could almost hear the violent palpitation of her heart. After what seemed to her an eternity, but which was, in all probability, only a few seconds, the hand was removed, and Miss Dalrymple then heard seven loud thumps on the table at the foot of the bed, after which there was silence, and the manifestations ceased. Miss Dalrymple, however, was too upset to sleep, and lay awake all night in a great agony of mind, lest there should be any further disturbances. When the maid brought her some tea in the morning, the latter immediately exclaimed, "Oh, madam, how dreadfully ill you look!" to which Miss Dalrymple replied, "Yes! I have been feeling very ill, but do not, on any account, tell your master or mistress, as it will only worry them."
Miss Dalrymple then took one of the older servants into confidence, and asked her if the house was haunted.
"Well, madam," was the reluctant response, "people do say that there is a house in this village that is haunted by the ghost of a murdered lady, but I am not quite sure which house it is"—an answer which implied much.
Miss Dalrymple did not have any further experiences there herself, but some time afterwards one of her great-nieces remarked to her, "Did you know, auntie, 'The Lichens' was haunted?" and went on to say that on one occasion, when going upstairs, she had seen the figure of a woman in a grey dress bending over the basin in the bath-room as if engaged in rinsing her hands. Thinking it was the head nurse, she was going on her way unconcernedly when she saw the nurse coming towards her from quite a different part of the house. Greatly astonished, she at once made enquiries, in reply to which the nurse assured her that she had not been in the bath-room for at least an hour. The figure in grey was repeatedly seen, always in or near the bath-room, and always appearing as if rinsing her hands. Once, too, when one of the children was alone in a downstairs room that opened on to the lawn, a hideous, trampish old man, carrying a sack, approached the window, and, after peeping in at the child with an evil smile, placed his fingers knowingly alongside his nose and glided noiselessly away into the shrubbery. The child ran out at once and asked the gardener to look for the man, but despite a vigorous search, no such person could be found.
Another inmate of the house, on going one day to her bedroom, heard something behind her, and, turning round, perceived, to her unmitigated horror, the luminous trunk of a man, which had apparently been dismembered. The body, which was bobbing up and down in mid-air, approached her rapidly, and, moving aside to let it pass, she saw it vanish through the door of the room Mrs. Dalrymple had occupied. After this ghastly manifestation, T.C. Dalrymple, Esq., fearing, for the sake of his family, to remain any longer in such a place, left "The Lichens," part of which has since been pulled down and rebuilt. Miss Dalrymple's heart has never been sound since she felt the ghostly hand on her shoulder, the horror of which phenomenon, as any of her friends can testify, turned her hair white.
As to the cause of the hauntings, that must be entirely a matter of conjecture, since, with regard to the former history of the house, nothing definite is known. A very vague rumour is current that many years ago it was the rendezvous of all manner of rips and rouÉs, and, strange though it may seem, the fact that the phantasm of the woman, seen there, was wearing a modern costume, does not preclude the idea that the said phantasm belonged to a bygone period. Such an anachronism is by no means uncommon in cases of haunting, but it renders the task of theorising on ghostly phenomena all the more difficult.
It may be asked with regard to this case—had the phantasm of the woman any connection with that of the tramp, the mutilated body and the hand; and my answer to that question is, that all four phenomena were, in all probability, closely allied with one another. Very possibly an old man had been murdered there by his paramour, who, after cutting up his body, had bribed a tramp to dispose of it, in which case the house would, of course, be haunted by the earth-bound spirits of both the victim and agents of the crime. But it is quite possible, supposing the phenomena are genuine phantasms of the dead, that the tragedy did not take place in that house at all, but was enacted in some far-away spot, one or more of the principals being in some way connected with "The Lichens." However, as I have already said, it is one of those cases that must, by reason of the uncertain history of the house, always remain a mystery.
A haunting of a similar nature occurred quite recently at a house near Leeds. The place, which had stood empty for a very long while, was eventually taken on a lease by my informants, Mr. and Mrs. Urquhart. Neither of the latter had had any previous experience with the superphysical, at which both were more or less inclined to scoff. One evening, shortly after their arrival, Mrs. Urquhart was alone in the study, and, looking up from her needlework, saw what at first sight appeared to be a luminous disc—but which speedily developed into a head—emerge from the wall opposite, and, bobbing up and down in mid-air, slowly approach her. It was a woman's head, the woman having obviously been decapitated, the expression in the wide open staring eyes showing every indication of a cruel ending. The hair was long and matted, the skin startlingly white. Mrs. Urquhart was at first far too terrified to move or utter a sound, but as the ghastly object floated right up to her, the revulsion she experienced was so great that the spell of her inertness was broken and she fled from the room.
When she told her husband what had occurred, he exclaimed laughingly, "Why, my dear, I never knew you had such a vivid imagination! You will soon be asking me to believe in hobgoblins and pixies." Whereupon Mrs. Urquhart bit her lips and was silent.
However, after dinner Mrs. Urquhart, hearing a great commotion in the study, ran to see what was happening, and discovered her husband and his friend, looking ghastly white, thrashing the air with walking-sticks. Catching sight of her, they both cried out, "We've seen the head—the beastly thing came out of the wall, as you described, and floated towards us!"
On hearing this, Mrs. Urquhart recoiled in horror, nor could she be persuaded ever again to enter the room. Her husband, whom the experience had effectually cured of scepticism, at once fell in with her proposal that they should immediately quit the house, and soon after their removal they learned that the place had been pulled down. From the fact, revealed by subsequent enquiries, that some years previously an old woman had been murdered there, it is quite evident to my mind that what the Urquharts and their friend saw was both objective and superphysical; but whether the apparition was a phantasm of the dead, or an impersonating elemental, can only be decided by an adequate knowledge of the character of the murdered person in whose likeness the phenomenon appeared.
Hauntings of a very disturbing nature go on (or, at least, did so a short while ago) at a house in Rugeley, where dreadful groans are frequently heard proceeding from a room on the ground floor. My informant, however, would not say whether or not the house was the one in which the notorious Palmer poisoned his victims; but here again it seems more than probable, that the sounds are due to the presence of an Elemental attached to the spot by the sacrifice of human blood.
I am hoping, at no great future date, to make a series of investigations in houses that have been the scenes of unsolved mysteries, since I believe it quite possible that I should experience such superphysical demonstrations as would give me the direct clue to the identity of the perpetrators of the crimes.
VISIONS AND DREAMS.
The Baroness Von A——, in a recent letter to me, says:—"I wonder if it would interest you to hear of a rather strange occurrence that once befell my husband. He was staying in town at the time, and was asked to tea at the house of some friends of ours in Westminster. The name of the friends is Howard, and their house, which is very old, is in one of the old squares behind the Abbey. My husband, an absolute sceptic himself, knew that the Howards were interested in Psychical Research, but had never heard of any legend in connection with their house. One evening, after tea, which took place in a back room, my husband, more in a teasing spirit than anything else, suddenly exclaimed, 'Look here! Shall I tell you what I can see in this room?' (He is most insistent that at the time he spoke he saw nothing, but was preparing to make the whole thing up, and meant to tell the Howards so afterwards.) 'I seem to be standing in a small garden. It is a dark night, and I see two men, dressed in the fashion of Charles II.'s time, just finishing digging a small grave, near the edge of which another man is standing holding in one hand a lantern of antique design. The two men have finished, the third waves his lantern slowly, and the door of the house which faces me (I feel it is this house, albeit somewhat different, though how I cannot say) opens, and out of it comes a fourth man, also dressed according to the Charles II. period, though in a very much richer costume. There is an expression of diabolical satisfaction in his eyes as they dwell on the face of the child he is carrying in his arms, and which, to my horror, I see has been murdered. The villain approaches the grave, into which he ruthlessly drops the body, and the diggers at once cover it with shovels full of earth. That is all I can see.'
"To my husband's astonishment the Howards were wildly excited, and told him that the legend connected with the house (and which they believed was only known to one or two people besides themselves) tallied detail for detail with the vision he had just witnessed. It was quite in vain that he protested he had seen nothing at all, but had invented the story just to 'have them on'—they would not believe him. It appears that in the time of Charles II., another house had occupied the site of the present one, though the garden was practically the same. A child had been murdered there for its inheritance, and had been buried in the garden where its bones had been subsequently found, after which the house had been pulled down and the present one built. I am sure my husband honestly thought he was inventing the vision. Could it have been a case of suggestion?"
Yes, I am inclined to believe it was a case of suggestion, but of suggestion due to some superphysical objective presence that actually put the words of the story into the mouth of the narrator. I do not think the story was a chance invention, a mere coincidence, any more than I think the suggestion was telepathic.
My next case deals with a dream, a lady, of the name of Carmichael, had whilst staying in an old house in the Punjab. She dreamed she was awakened by a lovely Hindoo lady, who came to her bedside, and by signs implored her to follow her. This Mrs. Carmichael at once did, and the Hindoo led her down winding passages and through numerous rooms, until they at length arrived in a courtyard with a well at the far end of it. The Hindoo silently and mournfully approached the well, and, pointing down it, wrung her hands and disappeared.
Mrs. Carmichael then woke to find herself bathed in perspiration; and the dream made such an impression on her that when she went to stay with some friends the next day, she told them about it. To her astonishment they were intensely excited. "Why!" they exclaimed, "we know the place well, and you have described exactly the winding passages in that part of the house that has never been used since a Hindoo lady was murdered there for her jewels some years ago. Neither the murderer nor his booty was ever found."
It was now Mrs. Carmichael's turn to be amazed, and she readily agreed to go with them to the house to see if she could find the well she had seen in her vision. Accordingly they all set out, and, on reaching the house, appointed Mrs. Carmichael as guide. Without any hesitation she at once made for the disused wing, and, leading the party through the rooms and down the passages she had seen in her dream, eventually brought them to the well in the courtyard. The well was then dug, and at the bottom lay a number of valuable diamond and pearl necklaces, rings and ear-rings! No body, however, was found, but when Mrs. Carmichael slept in the house again she dreamed no more of the Hindoo lady.
I unhesitatingly vouch for the truth of this story. The question now arises—to what cause could the vision be attributed? Was it due to a telepathic communication from some living brain acquainted with the story, or did Mrs. Carmichael's superphysical body leave her material body and visit the scene she witnessed, or was it all suggested to her by some objective superphysical presence, presumably that of an impersonating and benevolently disposed Elemental? I am inclined to think the last theory the most feasible.
An account of another interesting dream has been sent me by Miss Featherstone, several of whose other psychic experiences I have already related. "In a dream," she says, "which occurred twenty-three years ago, I thought I was very much upset and worried, and was running up and down passages which I had never seen before, looking for something (I am not sure that I knew in my dream what I was looking for), and being unable to find it, I exclaimed, 'Oh! I do wish Arthur was here!' I woke up saying this. Some months afterwards I was staying with a cousin in Worcestershire, when she had an epileptic fit. All the servants were out excepting two young girls. The doctor came and ordered brandy, and I could not find the key of the cellar anywhere. I had never explored the downstairs of my cousin's house before, and as I raced down a long succession of passages in my search for the cellar key, I instantly recognised and identified the passages with those I had seen in my dream. Moreover, to make the resemblance still more striking, my cousin Arthur, who alone knew where the key was kept, was away, and I kept saying to myself, 'I would give anything if only Arthur were here!' Later in the day he returned with the key in his pocket."
In this instance I think the superphysical body of Miss Featherstone, under the guidance of an Elemental, separated itself from her material body whilst the latter was asleep, and visited the actual spot where the incident of the key took place. As to why the Elemental should then have initiated Miss Featherstone into the trivial details only of an incident of the future, it is impossible to explain. One can only surmise that the act was an inconsequent one on the part of the Elemental, or that it would have revealed more to her had not some unexpected interruption recalled Miss Featherstone's superphysical self.
