PART III. CHAPTER V. THE HAUNTINGS OF THE OLD SYDERSTERNE PARSONAGE (1833), NEAR FAKENHAM, AND A PERSONAL EXPERIENCE IN SYDENHAM.

Some weeks ago the Rev. Henry Hacon, M.A., of Searly Vicarage, North Kelsey Moor, wrote to me, very kindly enclosing the following interesting letter which his father, many years ago, had received from the Rev. John Stewart, M.A., at that time Rector of Sydersterne, near Fakenham.

The letter, which deals exclusively with the then very much discussed hauntings at Sydersterne Parsonage, runs thus:—

Sydersterne Parsonage,
near Fakenham,
May 22, 1833.

My dear Sir,

All this Parsonage circle were gratified to learn that you and your family were recovered from the late epidemic. We are very sensible of your kind wishes, and shall be happy to see you at any time your press of business may allow you to leave Swaffham. The interest excited by the noises in our dwelling has become quite intense throughout this entire district of country. The arrivals from every quarter proved at last so utterly inconvenient that we have been obliged to decline receiving any more. We were compelled to draw the line somewhere, and we judged it could not be more sensibly done than immediately after the highly respectable authentication of the noises furnished last Thursday.

On the night preceding and the Thursday morning four God-fearing, shrewd, intelligent brother clergymen assembled at the Parsonage, and together, with a pious and accomplished lady and a medical gentleman from Holt (of eminence in his profession), joined Mrs. Stewart, my two eldest boys and myself, in watching. The clergymen were those of St. Edmund's, Norwich, of (here the writing is indiscernible owing to a tear in the MS.) Docking, and of South Creake.

At ten minutes to two on Thursday morning the noises commenced, and lasted, with very little pause, till two hours after daybreak. The self-confident were crestfallen, and the fancied-wise acknowledged their ignorance as the sun rose high. Within the limits of any sheet of paper I could not give you even a sketch of what has taken place here. The smile of contented ignorance, or the sneer of presumption, cut but a poor figure when opposed to truth and fact—and the pharisaical cloak that is ostensibly worn to exclude "superstition" may secrete in its folds the very demon of "infidelity."

Arrangements are in progress to detect the most cunning schemes of human agency—but must be kept profoundly secret until the blow can be struck.

The magistrates, clergy, and surrounding gentry continue to arrive at the Parsonage, and offer us their public and private services in any way that can be at all considered useful. The Marquis of Cholmondeley's agent has gone to town resolved to lay the whole business before his lordship, and to suggest that a Bow Street officer should be sent down. I have likewise written to his lordship, who has been very kind to me.

You may rely upon it, that no human means (at whatever expense) shall be neglected to settle the point as to human agency. To attain a right history of the Sydersterne noises you must read the details of (here the writing is illegible, owing to a blot), that took place in the family of the Wesleys in 1716, their Rectory being at Epworth, in Lincolnshire. The father's (the Rev. S. Wesley's) journal is transcribed by the great and good John Wesley, his son. These noises never could be accounted for.

I have already traced the existence of noises in Sydersterne Parsonage for thirty-six years back. I am told that Mr. Bullen, farmer, of Swaffham (with whom you are intimate), lived about that time at Creake (three miles from here), and recollects them occurring then. Be kind enough to ask him if he remembers of what nature they, at that period, were, and how long they continued without intermission. Favour me with the results of your enquiries. I think that but three of the generation then living now survive. The noises were here in 1797. Some ignoramus put the notices of them in the East Anglian. In that account some things are correct, mixed up with much that is wrong. However, I have kept a regular diary or journal of all things connected with them, and which in due time shall be published. Get the solution of these questions from Mr. Bullen for me, and, lest we should be wanderers, when you purpose coming over to us, let us know by post the day you mean to visit here. On Saturday forenoon there will be a letter for James at Mr. Finch's, and which Claxton is to take.

Kind compliments from all to all under your "roof tree."

John Stewart.

Commenting upon the hauntings, the Rev. H. Hacon, M.A., in a letter to me dated June 24, 1910, says:—

"... Here you have whatever further particulars I am able to send about the haunted house. Some of them are among my earliest recollections.

"I can remember my father, when relating some of them, seeing my infant eyes expressing delicious terror, I suppose, turning the conclusion into something comic, so that I might not go to my bed in fear and trembling. When older I heard particulars from one of Mr. Stewart's sons.

"Sometimes the noises heard at the Parsonage were like the scratchings, not of a cat, but of a tiger, on the inner walls of the house, whilst at other times they resembled a shower of copper coins promiscuously falling. One Sunday night, about the time Mr. Stewart came into residence, there were heard in the Parsonage noises like the shifting about of heavy furniture. So that one who heard the disturbances said, 'Well! I do wonder our new vicar should have his house set to rights on a Sunday!' There was not, however, a living soul in the house.

"The Stewart family were, of course, in a way, burdened by curious visitors. But being very hospitable, they were always glad to see their friends, two of whom, Swaffham contemporaries, Mr. and Mrs. Seppings, were passing the day and night there, anxious, of course, to witness some of the phenomena. As it was drawing near bedtime, Mr. Seppings, before saying good night, went to a side table to take up a bedroom candlestick, saying, 'Well! I don't suppose we shall hear anything to-night,' when, as his hand was about to grasp the candlestick, there came a stroke under the table and under the candlestick like that of a heavy hammer. Miss Stewart, the daughter of the house, after retiring to bed, would sometimes sing the Evening Hymn, when taps were heard on the woodwork of the bed beating time to the music. Mr. Stewart, whose wife's health at last became enfeebled under the stress, concluded that the phenomena were evidences of the presence of a troubled spirit, for after every effort was made to ascertain the cause of the disturbances, nothing was discovered that in any way pointed to human agency.

"The Marquis of Cholmondeley, the Patron of the Living, had the ground round the house excavated to ascertain whether there was any vault underneath the house—none, however, was found. Two Bow Street officers were sent to exercise their skill. They passed the night, armed with loaded pistols, in chambers opposite to one another. In the night, each, hearing a noise as if in the opposite chamber, came out with a loaded pistol with the intention of firing. But a mutual recognition ensuing, the catastrophe of each being shot by the other was averted.

"The house, to the best of my belief, like a number of other old parsonages, was at length pulled down and a new one built in its stead...."

In another letter my correspondent says:—"Mr. Stewart was a quasi alumnus of the great Greek scholar, Dr. Parr, and was a man of eminent local literary celebrity. Mrs. Stewart, his wife, was a daughter of an Admiral McDougall, so there was neither in them, nor in any of their children, any peasant or bourgeois predilection to superstition about ghosts."

Upon my writing to the Rev. H. Hacon, M.A., and asking him if he had given me an exhaustive account of all the phenomena that were experienced in the Parsonage, he sent me the following list, which was a brief recapitulary of what he had already told me, with a few additions:—

(1) The sound as of a huge ball descending upon the roof and penetrating to the ground floor.

(2) A sound as of metal coin showering down from above.

(3) Scratching on the inner wall as of from the claws of a lion or tiger.

(4) On the occasion of a guest retiring for the night and putting his hand out for the night candlestick, a blow as from a hammer upon the under-side of the table where the candlestick was standing. The guest, by the way, had been expecting to hear the sounds, and was now concluding there would be none. (5) The sound as of a hand on the woodwork of the bed, keeping time to the singing of the Evening Hymn by Mrs. Stewart's daughter, on the conclusion of the latter's daily devotions.

(6) The incident of the Bow Street officers.

(7) The incident of the shifting of the furniture.

(8) The screams as of a human being under torture.

Since after every precaution had been taken to guard against the possibility of trickery, the disturbances still continued, and were heard collectively, there can be little doubt they were superphysical. Such being the case, I am inclined to attribute them to the presence of an Elemental, though to what kind of Elemental it is impossible for me to say with any certainty, as the history of the Parsonage is unknown to me. Since, however, the disturbances do not seem to have been the precursors of any misfortune to the Stewarts, I can safely conclude that the Elemental was not a Clanogrian. It was, in all probability, either a Vice Elemental attracted thither by the past committal of some crime, or by the vicious thoughts of some former occupant, or a Vagrarian drawn to the spot by its seclusiveness or by some relic of prehistoric times. I think the latter is the most probable, for the grotesque nature of the sounds are quite in accordance with the appearance and behaviour of the generality of Vagrarians, who usually manifest their resentment of human trespassers, on what they presume to be their special preserves, by creating all manner of alarming disturbances.

Shortly before commencing this book, hearing rumours that a certain house in the neighbourhood of the Crystal Palace was haunted, I obtained permission from the owner to sleep there, the only condition being that I should on no account give any clue as to the real identity of the place, which he was most anxious to let; and it is a fact, however incredible it may seem to sceptics, that nothing more effectually prevents a house letting than the reputation that it is haunted!

The house in question, though furnished, had been standing empty for some long time, and when I entered it alone one evening about nine o'clock, I was at once impressed with the musty atmosphere. My first act, therefore, was to open the windows on the top landing. The house consisted of three storeys and a basement, twelve bed and four reception rooms, with the usual kitchen offices. I had had no definite information as to the nature of the hauntings, so that I came to the house with a perfectly unbiassed mind, and under conditions that excluded any possibility of suggestion. I admit that, when the front door closed behind me, and I found myself in a silent, empty hall, in which the shadows of evening were fast beginning to assemble, my heart beat a little faster than usual. Confronting me was a staircase leading to all the grim possibilities of the upper landings, whilst a little on one side of it was a dark, narrow passage, from which a flight of unprepossessing stone steps led into the abyssmal depths of the basement.

After a few minutes' hesitation, glad even to hear my own footsteps, I moved across the hall, and after examining the rooms on the ground floor, ascended to those above.

All the blinds in the house being down, each room with its ponderous old-fashioned furniture presented a particularly funereal aspect, to which a startling effect was given by a few patches of brilliant moonlight, that, falling on the polished surfaces of the wardrobes, converted them into mirrors, wherein I saw the reflections of what apparently had no material counterparts. Here and there, too, in some remote angle, I saw a white and glistening something, that for a moment chilled my blood, until a closer inspection proved it to be a mere illumination on the wall or on some naturally bright object.

I have generally been able to detect, both in Silence and in Shadows, an indefinable Something that is—to me, at any rate—an almost sure indication of the near proximity of the Superphysical; and the moment I crossed the threshold of this house, I felt this indefinable Something all round me in a degree that was most marked.

The hush, indeed, which was forced and unnatural, had grown with each step I took, until now, as I involuntarily paused to listen, the pulsation of my own heart was like the rapid beating on a drum, whilst I instinctively felt that numerous other beings were holding in their breath simultaneously with mine. The shadows, too, were far from normal shadows, for as I glanced behind me, and saw them waving to and fro on the walls and floor, I was not only struck with the fact that several of them resembled nothing near at hand, nothing that could in any way be explained by the furniture, but that, wherever I went, the same few shadows glided surreptitiously behind me.

As I was about to enter one of the top attics, there was a thud, and something flew past me. I switched on my flashlight. It was a black cat—a poor stray creature with gaunt sides and unkempt coat—a great deal more frightened than I.

My investigation of the upper premises over, I descended into the basement, which, like all basements that have remained disused for any length of time, was excessively cold and damp.

There were two cellars, the one opening into the other, both pitch dark and streaming with moisture, and as I groped my way down into them by the spasmodic aid of my pocket search-light, I could not help thinking of the recent gruesome discoveries in Hilldrop Crescent.

In nine cases out of ten the origin of hauntings may be looked for in basements, the gloomy, depressing nature of which seem to have a special attraction for those Elementals that suggest crime.

And here, in the cellars, far removed from prying eyes and sunlight, here, under the clammy, broken cement floor, here was an ideal sepulchre ready for the use of any murderer. He had only to poke his nose half-way down the steps to be struck with the excellence of the idea, and to hurry back for pick and shovel to make the job complete.

The longer I lingered in the cellars, the more firmly I became convinced that they had at one time or another witnessed some secret burial. Dare I remain down there and wait for the phenomena? The heavy, foetid atmosphere of the place hung round me like a wet rag, while the chill fumes, rising from between the crevices in the cement, ascended my nostrils and made me sneeze. If I stayed in this charnel house, I must certainly risk rheumatic fever. Then a brilliant thought struck me—I would cover the floor of the innermost cellar with cocoanut matting; there were several loose stacks of it lying in the scullery.

I did so, and the result, though not, perhaps, quite as satisfactory as I had anticipated, for the dampness was still abominable, made it at least possible for me to remain there. I accordingly perched myself on a table I had also brought from the scullery, and waited.

Minute after minute passed and nothing happened, nothing beyond a few isolated noises, such as the slamming of some far-distant door—which slamming, as I tried to reassure myself, momentarily forgetting that the house I was in was detached, might be in the next house—and the creaking of boards, those creakings that one so seldom seems to hear in the daytime, but which one laughingly tells oneself are due to natural causes—though what those causes are is apparently inexplicable.

The wind does not blow every night, neither can it perform half of that for which it is often held responsible, neither does every house swarm with rats. Still, I do not say that what I then heard could not have been accounted for naturally—I daresay it might have been—only I was not clever enough to do it. Sceptics are usually so brilliant that one often wonders how it is they do not occupy all the foremost places in literature, science, and art—why, in fact, the smart, shrewd man, who scoffs at ghosts, is so often unheard of, whilst the poor silly believer in the superphysical is so often eminent as a scientist or author. Can it be that it is, after all, the little learning that makes the man the fool?

But to continue. The hour of midnight—that hour erroneously supposed to be the one when psychic phenomena usually show themselves—passed, and I anxiously awaited for what I felt every moment might now produce.

About one o'clock the temperature in the cellars suddenly grew so cold that my teeth chattered, and I then heard, as I thought, in the front hall, a tremendous crash as if all the crockery in the house had been dashed from some prodigious height in one big pile on the floor. Then there was a death-like hush, and then a jabber, jabber, jabber—apparently in the kitchen overhead—as of someone talking very fast, and very incoherently, to themselves; then silence, and then, what made me feel sick with terror, the sound of shuffling footsteps slowly approaching the head of the steps confronting me. Nearer and nearer they came, until they suddenly paused, and I saw the blurred outlines of the luminous figure of something stunted, something hardly human, and something inconceivably nasty.

It rushed noiselessly down the steps, and, brushing swiftly past me, vanished in the furthest corner of the cellar.

Feeling that nothing more would happen now, I ascended the steps, and after a final and brief survey of the premises, walked home, feeling convinced that the phenomena I had experienced were due to a Vice Elemental attracted to the house by a murder that had once been committed there, the body of the victim being interred in one of the cellars.

I was not able to visit the house again, and the owner, though acknowledging that what I had seen and heard was a recognised feature of the hauntings, refused to disclose anything further.