"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.