“‘How?’ said Miss Wright, ‘did he come after I went to bed?’
“‘His spirit did,’ said Lord Chedworth, solemnly.
“‘Oh! my dear uncle, how could the spirit of a living man appear?’ said she, smiling.
“‘He is dead, beyond doubt,’ replied his lordship; ‘listen, and then laugh as much as you please. I had not entered my bedroom many minutes when he stood before me. Like you, I could not but think that I was looking on the living man, and so accosted him; but he answered, “Chedworth, I died this night at eight o’clock; I come to tell you, that there is another world beyond the grave; and that there is a righteous God Who judgeth all.”’
“‘Depend upon it, uncle, it was only a dream!’ But while Miss Wright was thus speaking a groom on horseback rode up the avenue, and immediately after delivered a letter to Lord Chedworth, announcing the sudden death of his friend. Whatever construction the reader may be disposed to put upon this narrative, it is not unimportant to add that the effect upon the mind of Lord Chedworth was as happy as it was permanent. All his doubts were at once removed, and for ever.”
The well-known Lyttelton Ghost Story may now be fitly recorded. It created a great and widespread interest at the time of its occurrence, and was criticised and commented upon by many. Several versions of it have already appeared in print, and they seem to vary in certain unimportant details. The Editor, instead of writing out what has already appeared, prefers to set forth at length various documents containing independent evidence of the truth of the several apparitions, which by the courtesy and kindness of the present accomplished bearer of the title, he is enabled to embody verbatim in this volume, having been permitted to transcribe them from the originals in Lord Lyttelton’s possession.
The subject of this narrative was the son of George, Lord Lyttelton, who was alike distinguished for the raciness of his wit and the profligacy of his manners. The latter trait of his character has induced many persons to suppose the apparition which he asserted he had seen, to have been the effect of a conscience quickened with remorse and misgivings, on account of many vices. The probability of the narrative[9] has, consequently, been much questioned; but two gentlemen, one of whom was at Pitt Place, the seat of Lord Lyttelton, and the other in the immediate neighbourhood, at the time of his lordship’s death, bore ample testimony to the veracity of the whole affair. The several narratives of the singular occurrence correspond in material points; and the following are the circumstantial particulars written by the gentleman who was at the time on a visit to his lordship:—
“I was at Pitt Place, Epsom, when Lord Lyttelton died; Lord Fortescue, Mrs. Flood, and the two Miss Amphletts were also present. Lord Lyttelton had not long been returned from Ireland, and frequently had been seized with suffocating fits; he was attacked several times by them in the course of the preceding month, while he was at his house in Hill Street, Berkeley Square. It happened that he dreamt, three days before his death, that he saw a fluttering bird, and afterwards a woman appeared to him in white apparel and said to him, ‘Prepare to die, you will not exist three days!’ His lordship was much alarmed, and called to a servant from a closet adjoining, who found him much agitated and in a profuse perspiration; the circumstance had a considerable effect all the next day on his lordship’s spirits. On the third day, while his lordship was at breakfast with the above personages, he said, ‘If I live over to-night I shall have jockied the ghost, for this is the third day.’ The whole party presently set off for Pitt Place, where they had not long arrived before his lordship was visited by one of his accustomed fits. After a short interval he recovered. He dined at five o’clock that day, and went to bed at eleven, when his servant was about to give him rhubarb and mint-water, but his lordship perceiving him stir it with a toothpick, called him a slovenly dog, and bade him go and fetch a teaspoon; but on the man’s return he found his Master in a fit, and the pillow being placed high, his chin bore hard upon his neck, when the servant, instead of relieving his master on the instant from his perilous situation, ran in his fright and called out for help, but on his return he found his lordship dead.
“In explanation of this strange tale it is said that Lord Lyttelton acknowledged, previously to his death, that the woman he had seen in his dream was the ‘mother’ of the two Misses Amphletts mentioned above, whom, together with a third sister then in Ireland, his lordship had seduced and prevailed on to leave their parent, who resided near his country residence in Shropshire. It is further stated that Mrs. Amphlett died of grief through the desertion of her children at the precise time when the female vision appeared to his lordship. The most surprising part of the story, because the most difficult of explanation, yet remains to be related. On the second day Miles Peter Andrews, one of Lord Lyttelton’s most intimate friends, left the dinner-party at an early hour, being called away upon business to Dartford, where he was the owner of certain powder-mills. He had all along professed himself one of the most determined sceptics as to the vision, and therefore ceased to think of it. On the third night, however, when he had been in bed about half an hour, and still remained, as he imagined, wide awake, his curtains were suddenly pulled aside, and Lord Lyttelton appeared before him in his robe-de-chambre and night-cap. Mr. Andrews gazed at his visitor for some time in silent wonder, and then began to reproach him for so odd a freak in coming down to Dartford Mills without any previous notice, as he hardly knew how on the emergency to find his lordship the requisite accommodation. ‘Nevertheless,’ said Andrews, ‘I will get up and see what can be done for you.’ With this view he turned aside to ring the bell; but on looking round again he could see no signs of his strange visitor. Soon afterwards the bell was rung for his servant, and upon his asking what had become of Lord Lyttelton, the man, evidently much surprised at the question, replied that he had seen nothing of him since they had left Pitt Place. ‘Psha, you fool,’ exclaimed Mr. Andrews, ‘he was here this moment at my bedside.’ The servant, more astonished than ever, declared that he did not well understand how that could be, since he must have seen him enter; whereupon Mr. Andrews rose, and having dressed himself, searched the house and grounds, but Lord Lyttelton was nowhere to be found. Still, he could not help believing that his friend, who was fond of practical jokes, had played him this trick for his previously expressed scepticism in the matter of the dream. But he soon viewed the whole affair in a different light. About four o’clock on the same day an express arrived from a friend with the news of Lord Lyttelton’s death, and the whole manner of it, as related by the valet to those who were in the house at the time. In Mr. Andrews’s subsequent visits to Pitt Place, no solicitations could ever induce him to sleep there; he would invariably return, however late, to the Spread Eagle Inn, at Epsom, for the night.”
Remarkable Dream of Thomas, Lord Lyttelton.[10]