Ever since then the spirit of the major has had an uncomfortable trick of turning up at unexpected hours in the mansion in which he made his first apparition. One day Mrs Jakes, a tenant of the family, was ascending the stairs, when she met a strange figure coming out of one of the rooms, and, according to her account, motioned as if he would snuff the candle for her. She was not alarmed, because Sir George looked kindly on her, and it was only later that she remembered the story of the ghost.
More extraordinary still were the circumstances of another visit. When the late rector of Brushford was a young man, he invited a college-friend to stay with him. The evening of his arrival was spent in the usual way, with plenty of fun and pleasantry, after which the party broke up for the night. The following morning the guest came down in the same good spirits, but he had a tale to tell.
“You fellows thought you were going to frighten me last night,” he observed. Everybody disclaimed such an intention, and begged to know what he meant. There were signs of incredulity on the part of the collegian, and then he was induced to explain that an old cavalier arrayed in a wide cloak and Spanish hat had presented himself at his bedside. The spectacle, however, had given him no concern, as he had taken it for a practical joke.
Major Sydenham’s portrait was painted at Combe, and is still in the possession of the family. It is that of a man with the pointed beard and moustache of the period, wearing a cavalier’s hat and feather; and within living memory was concealed behind curtains. In view of what was said about the subject, this was not unnatural, but the picture itself had a peculiar quality. A boy, it is remembered, refused to look at it, and hid under the table, because the eyes followed him.
I have not yet done with the Sydenham phantom. As may easily be supposed, the country-side has its legends of these great people, who, it is averred, drove a carriage with six or eight horses shod with silver. Amongst the legends is one that narrates the laying of Major Sydenham’s ghost, whose visits became so frequent and inopportune that the family at Combe resolved on serious measures to prevent their recurrence. They communicated with the Vicar of Dulverton, desiring him to perform the rite of exorcism, and accordingly that divine, attended by his curate, proceeded to the large upper room still known as “the chapel,” where, as we have seen, the “silver-tongued” Sydenham had so often read prayers under the Commonwealth. At the conclusion of the service the man-servant was ordered to lead a handsome watch-dog to Aller’s Wood, on the border of the present highway to Dulverton, and there release him. Particular instructions were given him on no account to hurt or ill-use the animal, but these he seems to have disobeyed. The result was a sudden flash of lightning, followed immediately by a loud clap of thunder, in the midst of which the dog disappeared. On returning to the house the terrified emissary reported the occurrence, but the opinion was expressed that the spirit had been effectually laid.
The country-side, however, was unwilling to resign its ghost, and, amongst other “yarns,” the following has been told. There is a stone staircase at Combe, and one step was always coming out. If it was put back one day, it was found dislodged the next; and this was believed to be Major Sydenham’s work. At length the two Blackmores, father and son, were sent for. They were masons of Exebridge, and skilled men at their trade, of which they were proud. They thought they had secured the step in its place firmly.
“Damme, Major Sydenham, push it out if
you can,” exclaimed one of them. No sooner said than done.