The Elliott O’Donnell Supernatural Megapack

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The Elliott O’Donnell Supernatural Megapack Page 45

by Elliott O'Donnell


  “During the day a telegram came to say that the eldest boy, Harry, who was then in London, had died during the night; they did not even know he was ill.

  “One thing I ought to mention is that a large cage of doves stood outside on the second floor landing. As a rule, these birds are frightened at the smallest sound, but my grandmother says she noticed that they never moved, although the noise of the knocking and laughter was enough to waken any one.”

  The Baroness Von A—— goes on to ask if I think the disturbances were due to Phantasms of the Dead or to Elementals. I told her that, in my opinion, the knockings and laughter were due to one and the same agency, namely, that of an Elemental which had attached itself to the house in the same way as other Elementals—commonly known as Family Ghosts—attach themselves to families. Very probably the Elemental was attracted to the house in the first instance by some crime committed there, or it may even have been attracted to the soil prior to the building of the house. Such spirits vary in their attitude to Man. “The Yellow Boy,” for instance, that haunted a certain room at Knebworth, appearing periodically to whoever was sleeping there, and by gestures describing the manner of their approaching death, did not, when giving the warning, exhibit any glee or malice: his actions were perfectly mechanical and his expression neutral. For example, when the apparition appeared to Lord Castlereagh, it merely drew its hand three times across its throat, thus predicting the way his lordship would die. (Lord Castlereagh shortly afterwards committed suicide by cutting his throat.)

  Other cases of death-warning in which there is no apparent malice are “The Radiant Boy” at Corby Castle, when the apparition is benevolent rather than otherwise, and the “Drummer” at Cortachy Castle, when the phenomenon appears to be mischievous rather than malicious.

  On the other hand, that there is evil design and intention on the part of some death-warning phenomena is quite evident, to my mind, from the case of the clock to which I have alluded in Chapter I.; a case which also proves, I think, that the fates of some, if not indeed of all of us, are pre-ordained, and that there are certain orders of Elementals that not only have the power to warn us of these fates, but that can also be instrumental in accomplishing them. For instance, re the clock that struck thirteen, and the lady who was killed in the taxi-cab accident, it will be remembered that the latter was of a very extraordinary nature—so extraordinary, in fact, that it really seems as if the Elemental was the actual contriver of it—that it deliberately plotted the disaster, and that it was present at the time, predominating the thoughts and guiding the hands of the two drivers as they collided with one another. Why it did so is difficult to conceive, unless, preferring solitude for its domain, it regarded Mrs. Wright as an obstacle in its way, and an intruder where it had the sole privilege of haunting. Possibly, too, the house in which Mrs. Wright lived may be under some curse or ban, which necessitates those having the temerity to occupy it, paying the penalty of so doing with their lives, the time and nature of their deaths being decided by the phenomenon in charge.

  This supposition—namely, that Elementals can be instrumental in working evil—coincides with my theory that diseases are primarily due to powers or spirits antagonistic to the human race, and that such powers or spirits exist in multitudinous forms; but whereas Morbas have the widest range possible, the other two species of Elementals, i.e., Vice Elementals and Clanogrians, or Family Ghosts, are confined to certain families and houses.

  Miss Rolands, a friend of mine, who is an artist, gives me an experience that once happened to her.

  “I am afraid I will tell this story very badly,” she begins, “but I will do my little best. I remember it all so well, though I was little more than a child at the time. I lived with my grandparents, aunts, and sister in an old house in Birkenhead. The house was a very high one. It had both attics and cellars, and in one of the attics there was a bloodstain, due, so I was told, to a murder of a particularly horrible nature, that had once been perpetrated there, and on account of which the house was reputed to be haunted. Rumour said that in bygone days the house had been inhabited by priests, and that it was one of them who had been killed, his body being taken away in a barrel! In spite, however, of the bloodstain and the grim tales in connection with it, my sisters and I, at the commencement of our tenancy of the house, used to play in the attic, and nothing happened. But at last there came a night when we awoke to the fact that there was a ghastly amount of truth in what we had heard. Some time after we had all gone to bed, we were all aroused (even my practical old grandfather) by three loud knocks on one of the doors which each of us fancied was our own. Then there was silence, and then, from the very top of the house where the attic was situated, a barrel was rolled down the stairs!—bump! bump! bump! When it reached each separate landing, there was a short interval as if the barrel was settling itself before beginning its next journey, and then again, bump! bump! fainter and fainter, until it reached the cellar, when the sounds ceased.

  When this stage was reached, we used to light tapers and all look out of our respective doors with white scared faces and hair that literally felt as if it were standing on end, and then, after a few seconds of breathless silence we flew with one accord to one room, where we remained, packed like herrings, till the morning.

  This strange, mysterious occurrence happened at least three times to my knowledge, and I can vouch for its absolute truth, as can my aunts and sister, and as could my grandparents, if they were alive.

  Without any accurate details with regard to the murder, it is impossible to say definitely to what class of phantasms this haunting was due. One might attribute it entirely to the work of Impersonating Elementals, entirely to phantasms of the Dead, or to both Impersonating Elementals and Phantasms of the Dead.

  I have recently been seeking for information concerning Pixies, and as the result of my enquiries have received replies from several people (whose social position and consequent sense of honour are a guarantee of their veracity) declaring they have seen this species of Elemental.

  One of my informants, Miss White, who lives in West Cornwall, tells me that on one occasion, when she was crossing some very lonely fields, almost within sight of Castle-on-Dinas, she suddenly saw a number of little people rise from among the boulders of granite on the top of a hill facing her; they were all armed with spears and engaged in a kind of mimic battle, but, on Miss White approaching them, they instantly vanished, nor did she ever see them again.

  I can quite imagine that the hill, where Miss White alleges she saw these little phantasms, is haunted, as the whole of that neighbourhood (with which I have been acquainted for some years) is most suggestive of every kind of Elemental. There are, for example, on Castle-on-Dinas, the remains of an ancient Celtic village, and I have no doubt the locality has experienced many violent deaths, and that many prehistoric people lie buried there.

  Another of my correspondents, Mrs. Bellew, says:—“In the winter of 1888-89 I was suffering from delicate lungs, and was advised to have a fire in my bedroom night and morning. One night, between eleven and twelve, I was awakened suddenly by a coal falling into the fender, and heard a small voice, resembling the squeaking of a mouse, say, ‘We did that! you didn’t know it,’ then there followed shrill laughter. I sat up in bed so as to command a view of the fireplace, and saw sitting on a live coal two little beings about six inches high, with human faces and limbs and white skins.

  “Quite naturally I answered, ‘I knew perfectly well it was you.’ At the sound of my voice they vanished at once, and I, only then, realised how strange an experience I had had. The whole incident only occupied a minute or two.”

  Of course, it is very difficult to think that this was not entirely subjective, and were it not for the fact that Mrs. Bellew is so positive that the phenomena were objective, I should be inclined to believe otherwise. Still, it is very delightful to think there may be such a pleasant type
of Elemental.

  An interesting incident occurred to the Rev. G. Chichester, with whom I had some correspondence two years ago. It was the only psychic experience he had had, and took place at a Druid’s Circle in the North of England. As he was examining the stones of the Circle, he suddenly became aware of a “death-like smell” (to quote his own words) and the sense of some approaching presence. Retreating hastily to a distance, he then perceived a figure clad in white or light grey glide from the adjoining wood and vanish near the largest stone of the cromlech. The Circle was in a pine wood, and under one of the stones which had been dug up in the late seventies of the last century an urn had been found, which urn is now in a museum. The Rev. G. Chichester informed me that manifestations of an unpleasant nature had also followed the lifting of a stone in a celebrated cromlech in Cumberland, so that he was inclined to think psychic phenomena invariably followed the disturbance of any of the stones. Though Mr. Chichester did not give me any very definite idea of what he saw, it seems to me highly probable that it was a Barrowvian, or the phantasm of a prehistoric man; the latter, being thoroughly animal, would possess no soul, and his spirit would doubtless remain earth-bound ad infinitum. On the other hand, of course, it might have been a Vagrarian.

  Of the appearance of spirit lights I have had abundant evidence. Mrs. W——, of Guilsborough, with whom I am well acquainted, informs me that on awaking one night she found the room full of the most beautiful coloured lights, that floated in mid-air round the bed. They were so pretty that she was not in the least alarmed, but continued to watch them till they suddenly vanished. The darkness of the night, the inclemency of the weather, and the situation of the room precluded the probability of the lights being produced by any one outside the house.

  In the memoirs of a famous lady artist I have just been editing, I have given an account of blue lights seen by her and her husband in their bedroom. On this occasion the manifestations filled the eye-witnesses with horror, and the husband, in his endeavours to ward them off the bed, struck at them with his hand, when they divided, re-uniting again immediately afterwards.

  I am inclined to think that in both instances the lights were due to the presence of some form of Elemental in the initial stage of materialisation; but whereas the beauty of the lights and the absence of fear in the first case suggests that the phantasms belonged to some agreeable type of Elemental, very likely of the order of Pixies, the uniform blueness and the presence of fear in the latter case suggests that the lights were due to some terrifying and vicious form of Elemental, that was in all probability permanently attached to the house.

  These lights seem to resemble in some respects those seen from time to time in Wales, though in the latter case the phenomena appear with the purpose of predicting death. A description is given of them in “Frazer’s Magazine.” They would seem to be closely allied with the corpse candles, or Canhyllan Cyrth, also seen in Wales, an account of which is given in “News from the Invisible World,” a work by T. Charley, who collected his information (so I understand from an announcement on the title-page) from the works of Baxter, Wesley, Simpson, and other writers. These candles are so called because their light resembles in shape that of a candle; in colour it is sometimes white, sometimes of various shades of blue. If it is pale blue and small, it predicts the death of an infant; if big, an adult. The writer then narrates several cases relative to the appearance of these lights, the concluding one running thus: “About thirty-four or thirty-five years since, one Jane Wyatt, my wife’s sister, being nurse to Baronet Rud’s three eldest children and (the lady being deceased) the lady controller of that house, going late into a chamber where the maidservants lay, saw there no less than five of these lights together. It happened a while after, the chamber being newly plastered and a grate of coal fire therein kindled to hasten the drying up of the plastering, that five of the maidservants went there to bed, as they were wont; but in the morning they were all dead, being suffocated in their sleep with the steam of the newly tempered lime and coal. This was at Langathen, in Carmarthenshire.”

  These lights do not appear to have ever reached any further stage of materialisation, though I imagine they possess that capability and that they are in reality some peculiarly grim form of Elemental—as grim, maybe, as the drummers and pipers of Scotland, and other Clanogrians or Family Ghosts, with which they would seem to be closely connected.

  Of Noises, that are popularly attributed to Poltergeists, but which I think are due either to Phantasms of the Dead or to Vagrarian, Impersonating or Vice Elementals, I have received many accounts.

  Miss Dulcie Vincent, sister to the Society beauty (whose experience I shall give later on), and herself a well-known beauty, says:—

  “When I was staying with my uncle some years ago in his house in Norfolk, we used to hear the most remarkable noises at night, which no one could in any way explain. For example, there were tremendous crashes as if all the crockery in the house was being dashed to pieces on the kitchen tiles, whilst at other times we heard heavy thuds and bumps as if furniture were being moved about wholesale from one room to another. One night, the noises were so great that my uncle took his gun and went downstairs, making sure that there were burglars in the house; but the moment he opened the door of the room whence the sounds proceeded, there was an intense hush, and nothing was to be seen. A few nights after this incident, I was awakened by hearing my bedroom door slowly open. I looked, but saw no one. Seized with ungovernable terror, I then buried my head under the bedclothes, when I distinctly heard soft footsteps approach the bed. There was then a silence, during which I instinctively felt some antagonistic presence close beside me. Then, to my indescribable terror, the bedclothes were gently pulled from my face, and I felt something—I knew not what—was peering down at me and trying to make me look. Exerting all my will power, however, I am thankful to say I kept my eyes tightly closed, and the Thing at length stealthily withdrew, nor did I ever experience it again.

  “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 Poltergeis
t 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.

 

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