CHAPTER XVII.
MISCELLANEOUS PHENOMENA.
In a former chapter, I alluded to the forms seen floating over graves, by Billing, Pfeffel’s amanuensis. By some persons, this luminous form is seen only as a light, just as occurs in many of the apparition cases I have related. How far Baron Reichenbach is correct in his conclusion, that these figures are merely the result of the chemical process going on below, it is impossible for any one at present to say. The fact that these lights do not always hover over the graves, but sometimes move from them, militates against this opinion, as I have before observed; and the insubstantial nature of the form which reconstructed itself after Pfeffel had passed his stick through it proves nothing, since the same thing is asserted of all apparitions I meet with, let them be seen where they may, except in such very extraordinary cases as that of the Bride of Corinth, supposing that story to be true.
At the same time, although these cases are not made out to be chemical phenomena, neither are we entitled to class them under the head of what is commonly understood by the word ghost; whereby we comprehend a shadowy shape, informed by an intelligent spirit. But there are some cases, a few of which I will mention, that it seems extremely difficult to include under one category or the other.
The late Lieutenant-General Robertson, of Lawers, who served during the whole of the American war, brought home with him, at its termination, a negro, who went by the name of Black Tom, and who continued in his service. The room appropriated to the use of this man, in the general’s town residence (I speak of Edinburgh), was on the ground floor; and he was heard frequently to complain that he could not rest in it, for that every night the figure of a headless lady, with a child in her arms, rose out of the hearth and frightened him dreadfully. Of course nobody believed this story, and it was supposed to be the dream of intoxication, as Tom was not remarkable for sobriety; but, strange to say, when the old mansion was pulled down to build Gillespie’s hospital, which stands on its site, there was found, under the hearth-stone in that apartment, a box containing the body of a female, from which the head had been severed; and beside her lay the remains of an infant, wrapped in a pillow-case trimmed with lace. She appeared, poor lady, to have been cut off in the “blossom of her sins;” for she was dressed, and her scissors were yet hanging by a riband to her side, and her thimble was also in the box, having, apparently, fallen from the shrivelled finger.
Now, whether we are to consider this a ghost, or a phenomenon of the same nature as that seen by Billing, it is difficult to decide. Somewhat similar is the following case, which I have borrowed from a little work entitled “Supernaturalism in New England.” Not only does this little extract prove that the same phenomena, be they interpreted as they may, exist in all parts of the world, but I think it will be granted me that, although we have not here the confirmation that time furnished in the former instance, yet it is difficult to suppose that this unexcitable person should have been the subject of so extraordinary a spectral illusion.
“Whoever has seen Great pond, in the east parish of Haverhill, has seen one of the very loveliest of the thousand little lakes or ponds of New England. With its soft slopes of greenest verdure—its white and sparkling sand-rim—its southern hem of pine and maple, mirrored, with spray and leaf, in the glassy water—its graceful hill-sentinels round about, white with the orchard-bloom of spring, or tasselled with the corn of autumn—its long sweep of blue waters, broken here and there by picturesque headlands—it would seem a spot, of all others, where spirits of evil must shrink, rebuked and abashed, from the presence of the beautiful. Yet here, too, has the shadow of the supernatural fallen. A lady of my acquaintance, a staid, unimaginative church-member, states that, a few years ago, she was standing in the angle formed by two roads, one of which traverses the pond-shore, the other leading over the hill which rises abruptly from the water. It was a warm summer evening, just at sunset. She was startled by the appearance of a horse and cart, of the kind used a century ago in New England, driving rapidly down the steep hill-side, and crossing the wall a few yards before her, without noise or displacing of a stone. The driver sat sternly erect, with a fierce countenance, grasping the reins tightly, and looking neither to the right nor the left. Behind the cart, and apparently lashed to it, was a woman of gigantic size, her countenance convulsed with a blended expression of rage and agony, writhing and struggling, like Laocoon in the folds of the serpent. Her head, neck, feet, and arms, were naked; wild locks of gray hair streamed back from temples corrugated and darkened. The horrible cavalcade swept by across the street, and disappeared at the margin of the pond.”
Many persons will have heard of the “Wild Troop of Rodenstein,” but few are aware of the curious amount of evidence there is in favor of the strange belief which prevails among the inhabitants of that region. The story goes, that the former possessors of the castles of Rodenstein and Schnellert were robbers and pirates, who committed, in conjunction, all manner of enormities; and that, to this day, the troop, with their horses and carriages, and dogs, are heard, every now and then, wildly rushing along the road between the two castles. This sounds like a fairy tale; yet so much was it believed, that, up to the middle of the last century, regular reports were made to the authorities in the neighborhood of the periods when the troop had passed. Since that, the landgericht, or court leet, has been removed to Furth, and they trouble themselves no longer about the Rodenstein troop; but a traveller, named Wirth, who a few years ago undertook to examine into the affair, declares the people assert that the passage of the visionary cavalcade still continues; and they assured him that certain houses, that he saw lying in ruins, were in that state because, as they lay directly in the way of the troop, they were uninhabitable. There is seldom anything seen; but the noise of carriage-wheels, horses’ feet, smacking of whips, blowing of horns, and the voice of these fierce hunters of men urging them on, are the sounds by which they recognise that the troop is passing from one castle to the other; and at a spot which was formerly a blacksmith’s, but is now a carpenter’s, the invisible lord of Rodenstein still stops to have his horse shod. Mr. Wirth copied several of the depositions out of the court records, and they are brought down to June, 1764. This is certainly a strange story; but it is not much more so than that of the black man, which I know to be true.
During the seven years’ war in Germany, a drover lost his life in a drunken squabble on the high road. For some time there was a sort of rude tombstone, with a cross on it, to mark the spot where his body was interred; but this has long fallen, and a milestone now fills its place. Nevertheless, it continues commonly asserted by the country people, and also by various travellers, that they have been deluded in that spot by seeing, as they imagine, herds of beasts, which, on investigation, prove to be merely visionary. Of course, many people look upon this as a superstition; but a very singular confirmation of the story occurred in the year 1826, when two gentlemen and two ladies were passing the spot in a post-carriage. One of these was a clergyman, and none of them had ever heard of the phenomenon said to be attached to the place. They had been discussing the prospects of the minister, who was on his way to a vicarage, to which he had just been appointed, when they saw a large flock of sheep, which stretched quite across the road, and was accompanied by a shepherd and a long-haired black dog. As to meet cattle on that road was nothing uncommon, and indeed they had met several droves in the course of the day, no remark was made at the moment, till, suddenly, each looked at the other and said, “What is become of the sheep?” Quite perplexed at their sudden disappearance, they called to the postillion to stop, and all got out in order to mount a little elevation and look around; but still unable to discover them, they now bethought themselves of asking the postillion where they were, when, to their infinite surprise, they learned that he had not seen them. Upon this, they bade him quicken his pace, that they might overtake a carriage that had passed them shortly before, and inquire if that party had seen the sheep; but they had not.