The Book of Dreams and Ghosts by Andrew Lang (the lemonade war series TXT) 📕

stand there a second or two, and then turn to go out again, but before reaching the door she seemed to dissolve away.  She was a grey, short-looking woman, apparently dressed in grey muslin.  I hardly saw the face, which seemed scarcely to be defined at all.  None of the children saw her,” and Mrs. Rokeby only mentioned the affair at the time to her husband.

Two servants, in the next two months, saw the same figure, alike in dress at least, in other rooms both by daylight and candle light.  They had not heard of Mrs. Rokeby’s experience, were accustomed to the noises, and were in good health.  One of them was frightened, and left her place.

A brilliant light in a dark room, an icy wind and a feeling of being “watched” were other discomforts in Mrs. Rokeby’s lot.  After 1876, only occasional rappings were heard, till Mr. Rokeby being absent one night in 1883, the noises broke out, “banging, thumping, the whole place shaking”.  The library was the centre of these exercises, and the dog, a fine collie, was shut up in the library.  Mrs. Rokeby left her room for her daughter’s, while the dog whined in terror, and the noises increased in violence.  Next day the dog, when let out, rushed forth with enthusiasm, but crouched with his tail between his legs when invited to re-enter.

This was in 1883.  Several years after, Mr. Rokeby was smoking, alone, in the dining-room early in the evening, when the dog began to bristle up his hair, and bark.  Mr. Rokeby looked up and saw the woman in grey, with about half her figure passed through the slightly open door.  He ran to the door, but she was gone, and the servants were engaged in their usual business. {198a}

Our next ghost offered many opportunities to observers.

THE LADY IN BLACK

A ghost in a haunted house is seldom observed with anything like scientific precision.  The spectre in the following narrative could not be photographed, attempts being usually made in a light which required prolonged exposure.  Efforts to touch it were failures, nor did it speak.  On the other hand, it did lend itself, perhaps unconsciously, to one scientific experiment.  The story is unromantic; the names are fictitious. {198b}

Bognor House, an eligible family residence near a large town, was built in 1860, and occupied, till his death in 1876, by Mr. S.  He was twice married, and was not of temperate ways.  His second wife adopted his habits, left him shortly before his death, and died at Clifton in 1878.  The pair used to quarrel about some jewels which Mr. S. concealed in the flooring of a room where the ghost was never seen.

A Mr L. now took the house, but died six months later.  Bognor House stood empty for four years, during which there was vague talk of hauntings.  In April, 1882, the house was taken by Captain Morton.  This was in April; in June Miss Rose Morton, a lady of nineteen studying medicine (and wearing spectacles), saw the first appearance.  Miss Morton did not mention her experiences to her family, her mother being an invalid, and her brothers and sisters very young, but she transmitted accounts to a friend, a lady, in a kind of diary letters.  These are extant, and are quoted.

Phenomena of this kind usually begin with noises, and go on to apparitions.  Miss Morton one night, while preparing to go to bed, heard a noise outside, thought it was her mother, opened the door, saw a tall lady in black holding a handkerchief to her face, and followed the figure till her candle burned out.  A widow’s white cuff was visible on each wrist, the whole of the face was never seen.  In 1882-84, Miss Morton saw the figure about six times; it was thrice seen, once through the window from outside, by other persons, who took it for a living being.  Two boys playing in the garden ran in to ask who was the weeping lady in black.

On 29th January, 1884, Miss Morton spoke to her inmate, as the lady in black stood beside a sofa.  “She only gave a slight gasp and moved towards the door.  Just by the door I spoke to her again, but she seemed as if she were quite unable to speak.” {199}  In May and June Miss Morton fastened strings at different heights from the stair railings to the wall, where she attached them with glue, but she twice saw the lady pass through the cords, leaving them untouched.  When Miss Morton cornered the figure and tried to touch her, or pounce on her, she dodged, or disappeared.  But by a curious contradiction her steps were often heard by several of the family, and when she heard the steps, Miss Morton used to go out and follow the figure.  There is really no more to tell.  Miss Morton’s father never saw the lady, even when she sat on a sofa for half an hour, Miss Morton watching her.  Other people saw her in the garden crying, and sent messages to ask what was the matter, and who was the lady in distress.  Many members of the family, boys, girls, married ladies, servants and others often saw the lady in black.  In 1885 loud noises, bumps and turning of door handles were common, and though the servants were told that the lady was quite harmless, they did not always stay.  The whole establishment of servants was gradually changed, but the lady still walked.  She appeared more seldom in 1887-1889, and by 1892 even the light footsteps ceased.  Two dogs, a retriever and a Skye terrier, showed much alarm.  “Twice,” says Miss Morton, “I saw the terrier suddenly run up to the mat at the foot of the stairs in the hall, wagging its tail, and moving its back in the way dogs do when they expect to be caressed.  It jumped up, fawning as it would do if a person had been standing there, but suddenly slunk away with its tail between its legs, and retreated, trembling, under a sofa.”  Miss Morton’s own emotion, at first, was “a feeling of awe at something unknown, mixed with a strong desire to know more about it”. {200}

This is a pretty tame case of haunting, as was conjectured, by an unhappy revenant, the returned spirit of the second Mrs. S.  Here it may be remarked that apparitions in haunted houses are very seldom recognised as those of dead persons, and, when recognised, the recognition is usually dubious.  Thus, in February, 1897, Lieutenant Carr Glyn, of the Grenadiers, while reading in the outer room of the Queen’s Library in Windsor, saw a lady in black in a kind of mantilla of black lace pass from the inner room into a corner where she was lost to view.  He supposed that she had gone out by a door there, and asked an attendant later who she was.  There was no door round the corner, and, in the opinion of some, the lady was Queen Elizabeth!  She has a traditional habit, it seems, of haunting the Library.  But surely, of all people, in dress and aspect Queen Elizabeth is most easily recognised.  The seer did not recognise her, and she was probably a mere casual hallucination.  In old houses such traditions are common, but vague.  In this connection Glamis is usually mentioned.  Every one has heard of the Secret Chamber, with its mystery, and the story was known to Scott, who introduces it in The Betrothed.  But we know when the Secret Chamber was built (under the Restoration), who built it, what he paid the masons, and where it is: under the Charter Room. {201}  These cold facts rather take the “weird” effect off the Glamis legend.

The usual process is, given an old house, first a noise, then a hallucination, actual or pretended, then a myth to account for the hallucination.  There is a castle on the border which has at least seven or eight distinct ghosts.  One is the famous Radiant Boy.  He has been evicted by turning his tapestried chamber into the smoking-room.  For many years not one ghost has been seen except the lady with the candle, viewed by myself, but, being ignorant of the story, I thought she was one of the maids.  Perhaps she was, but she went into an empty set of rooms, and did not come out again.  Footsteps are apt to approach the doors of these rooms in mirk midnight, the door handle turns, and that is all.

So much for supposed hauntings by spirits of the dead.

At the opposite pole are hauntings by agencies whom nobody supposes to be ghosts of inmates of the house.  The following is an extreme example, as the haunter proceeded to arson.  This is not so very unusual, and, if managed by an impostor, shows insane malevolence. {202}

THE DANCING DEVIL

On 16th November, 1870, Mr. Shchapoff, a Russian squire, the narrator, came home from a visit to a country town, Iletski, and found his family in some disarray.  There lived with him his mother and his wife’s mother, ladies of about sixty-nine, his wife, aged twenty, and his baby daughter.  The ladies had been a good deal disturbed.  On the night of the 14th, the baby was fractious, and the cook, Maria, danced and played the harmonica to divert her.  The baby fell asleep, the wife and Mr. Shchapoff’s miller’s lady were engaged in conversation, when a shadow crossed the blind on the outside.  They were about to go out and see who was passing, when they heard a double shuffle being executed with energy in the loft overhead.  They thought Maria, the cook, was making a night of it, but found her asleep in the kitchen.  The dancing went on but nobody could be found in the loft.  Then raps began on the window panes, and so the miller and gardener patrolled outside.  Nobody!

Raps and dancing lasted through most of the night and began again at ten in the morning.  The ladies were incommoded and complained of broken sleep.  Mr. Shchapoff, hearing all this, examined the miller, who admitted the facts, but attributed them to a pigeon’s nest, which he had found under the cornice.  Satisfied with this rather elementary hypothesis, Mr. Shchapoff sat down to read Livingstone’s African Travels.  Presently the double shuffle sounded in the loft.  Mrs. Shchapoff was asleep in her bedroom, but was awakened by loud raps.  The window was tapped at, deafening thumps were dealt at the outer wall, and the whole house thrilled.  Mr. Shchapoff rushed out with dogs and a gun, there were no footsteps in the snow, the air was still, the full moon rode in a serene sky.  Mr. Shchapoff came back, and the double shuffle was sounding merrily in the empty loft.  Next day was no better, but the noises abated and ceased gradually.

Alas, Mr. Shchapoff could not leave well alone.  On 20th December, to amuse a friend, he asked Maria to dance and play.  Raps, in tune, began on the window panes.  Next night they returned, while boots, slippers, and other objects, flew about with a hissing noise.  A piece of stuff would fly up and fall with a heavy hard thud, while hard bodies fell soundless as a feather.  The performances slowly died away.

On Old Year’s Night Maria danced to please them; raps began, people watching on either side of a wall heard the raps on the other side.  On 8th January, Mrs. Shchapoff fainted when a large, luminous ball floated, increasing in size, from under her bed.  The raps now followed her about by day, as in the case of John Wesley’s sisters.  On these occasions she felt weak and somnolent.  Finally Mr. Shchapoff carried his family to his town house for much-needed change of air.

Science, in the