The original title page
CONTENTS
THE VAULT AT AHRENSBURG
THE LICH-WAKE AT MONIFIETH
THE STRANGE EXPERIENCE OF MR. ROBERT BRUCE
THE WRAITH OF FRANCIS TANTUM
THE APPARITION OF LIEUTENANT COLT
THE STRANGE CASE OF ESTHER T ——
THE POLTERGEIST OF LEIGNITZ CASTLE
THE BINSTEAD MYSTERY
THE TRANSLATION OF MAURICE TULLING
THE HAUNTED HOUSE AT WILLINGTON
No. 15 ST. SWITHIN’S LANE
THE STRANGE CASE OF EMÉLIE SAGÉE
THE HAUNTING OF WILLIAM MOIR
CURIOUS INCIDENT AT BEAUMARIS
A DOUBLE CASE
“Is not this something more than fantasy?. What think you on’t?” — Hamlet.
PREFACE
THE narratives here set down are among the most fully attested of the many modern records of those phenomena which appear to be independent of known natural laws. It has been fashionable among the semi-informed outwardly to pooh-pooh at any suggestion of the presence about us of unseen existences and influences, or, indeed, of any thing not yet recognised, analysed, and labelled by science. Fifty years ago, persons of narrow capacity would have sneered at the suggested possibility of the telephone and the phonograph, just as they did not very long before at that of the steam engine. Men of science, whose researches teach them how comparatively little the greatest among them knows of the scheme of the universe, are more modest. There is, of course, no need, because it may be admitted — as it must be — that things have happened, and are happening, of a character which is called supernatural, for an immediate and unreserved return to the vulgar old belief in fairies and witches, with their accompanying trap-doors and blue fire. Our acquaintance with the matters in question is, however, much too slight to warrant the formulation of anything like fixed doctrines, and it is quite possible that with only our material senses to guide us we may never arrive at a stage of knowledge justifying any such formulation.
The incidents set forth in the ensuing pages are as completely testified to as written facts well may be — that is to say, infinitely more care has been taken to verify and substantiate them than is taken to authenticate the matter-of-fact news published in a daily newspaper and accepted by everybody without question. For several of the cases the compiler is indebted to the investigations of the Society for Psychical Research.
THE VAULT AT AHRENSBURG
OESEL is a small and irregularly-shaped island in the Baltic Sea, on the Russian coast, almost shutting in the Gulf of Riga, and converting it into an immense harbour. The total population of the island is now nearly 50,000, but at the time at which the events here set down occurred it could not have been much more than half as great. The capital town, and, indeed, the only town, is Ahrensburg, and the local government is carried on by a town corporation, with the burgomeister at its head, and by an ecclesiastical court, called the Consistory.
At the time at which this story opens (in the year 1844) one of the oldest and most powerful families living in Oesel was the Buxhoewden family, originally — some hundred years before — coming from Bremen. Enmity of the most intense and unnatural kind existed between two brothers of this kinship, whose mutual hatred led them to war, secretly and openly, against each other’s every interest and sympathy.
What the final and immediate cause was no one could ever distinctly say, but when, one morning in the spring of the year, Carl Buxhoewden, was found weltering in blood, with his throat cut from ear to ear, and with a razor tightly clenched in his right hand, the whole family ascribed what was, of course, assumed to be suicide, to some development of the quarrel with his brother Otto.
The strongest efforts were made to hush the matter up, the death was given out as having been due to apoplexy, and the funeral took place as soon as possible. But the actual facts soon got abroad, and when the body was interred, in its thick oak coffin, in the family vault under the private chapel in the cemetery of Ahrensburg, there were few spectators but knew what a ghastly mutilation that heavy oak coffin covered.
A few weeks after this, on Monday, June 22nd, 1844, a singular occurrence took place. It should be understood that the Ahrensburg cemetery abuts on the public road, and that the largest of the private chapels standing in it — it being customary for every family of distinction on the island to have its own chapel by way of a family vault — is, or was, the chapel of the Buxhoewdens. This chapel is in full view of the road, and as the cemetery path led beside it, visitors to the graves and others who had business in the neighbourhood were accustomed to fasten their horses in the front of the chapel, between it and the road.
On the day in question, a woman of the name of Dullmann, wife of a tailor in the town, and a most respectable person, employed as a sempstress in the family of Baron de Guldenstubbé, president of the Consistory, arrived at the cemetery with her children. She had with her a horse and small cart, and intended to visit the grave of her mother, and afterwards to proceed to the house of some friends at a distance. She fastened the horse, as usual, in front of the chapel, and, with the children, proceeded to the interior part of the cemetery, on the opposite side of the chapel to that on which her horse and cart stood, and knelt at her mother’s grave. She afterwards stated that while thus engaged she had an indistinct perception of noises from the direction of the chapel, but, being absorbed in her own thoughts, paid no attention. When she rose to go away, however, she found her children clinging very uneasily to her skirts, and attempting to explain, as well as they could, that some noise from the chapel had frightened them; and on reaching the horse — always an extremely quiet animal — she found it in a state of most abject terror, covered with sweat and foam and trembling in every joint. When led towards the road, the poor animal could scarcely walk, and had to be taken home at once and attended by a veterinary surgeon, whose opinion was that it had been in some way most excessively terrified.
At her next visit to the house of Baron de Guldenstubbé the woman Dullmann detailed these circumstances to the baron, who, however, thought little of the matter at the time. But soon other incidents of the sort occurred, and began to be common talk in the neighbourhood.
On Sunday, June 28th, several persons having fastened their horses in the usual place, returned to find them in a similar condition to that in which the sempstress had found hers on the previous Monday, and people in the neighbourhood testified to having heard singular rumbling noises, seemingly proceeding from the vaults under the Buxhoewden chapel.
These disturbances increased in frequency, although they were still irregular. One day, a week or two afterwards (rather early in July), eleven horses happened to be fastened by the chapel, when some people passing heard loud noises from the vaults. These people immediately called the owners of the horses, who found their animals in a most pitiable condition, apparently even more distressed than the others had been. Many, in their frantic efforts to escape, had fallen, and were struggling on the ground, and all were almost powerless with fright. Three or four of these horses died within the following day or two from the effects of their adventure, and the owners thereupon laid a formal complaint before the Consistory.
While this complaint was under consideration another member of the Buxhoewden family — the brother Otto — died, and the usual preparations were made for an elaborate funeral, which was duly carried out, with no unusual incident until the arrival at the chapel. The coffin was being carried with great solemnity into the building when, suddenly and distinctly, there came the sound of the dragging of some heavy body across the floor of the vault beneath, accompanied by a prolonged groan. The effect of this upon the coffin-bearers and mourners may be imagined, and some few minutes elapsed before the service was proceeded with. Throughout its whole progress the service was interrupted by sounds as of rolling, dragging, bumping, and falling from the vaults below, intermingled with groans and, occasionally, horrible peals of laughter. The hor
ses attached to the funeral carriages had to be led away.
When the service was concluded a hurried consultation took place between the leading members of the family, and it was decided to descend into the vault and, if possible, ascertain the cause of the disturbance. The coffin was not then taken, it being customary to leave it in the chapel for some days, or even weeks, before carrying it below. The doors at the top of the steps leading to the vault were therefore unlocked and opened, the steps were descended, and the doors at the bottom leading into the vault itself, were unlocked and opened also.
No sound now; but what a sight! The coffins taken from their places in the regular rows elevated on bars round the walls of the vault, and piled in a confused heap in the middle of the chamber; overset and stood upside down and on end, as though demons had played some unholy game of skittles with them. All — all except three. The visitors crossed to these three coffins to see whose remains had been spared the general indignities. The coffins were those of the grandmother of the then head of the family, an old lady who had been revered as a saint in Oesel for her charity and piety, and who had died at a considerable age in 1839; and of two little children — the only little children, it was believed, buried in that vault.
The disturbed coffins were reverently replaced and the vault locked up once more. How could the disturbance have occurred? The doors had always been kept fastened, the keys were in the possession of the chief of the family, and the locks, which were of very strong workmanship, had not been tampered with.
Now, when horses were left near the chapel, children were set to watch them. But when the noises returned the children scampered away, and the complaints and excitement became greater than ever. Some of the children, indeed, insisted that they saw dark spectres about the chapel, but this was probably only a delusion of their terrified fancies, and, at any rate, is a circumstance without the indisputable corroboration which the rest of the story has.
The excitement now reached an extremely high pitch, and an official inquiry was demanded. To this demand the Buxhoewden family were disinclined to accede, preferring to set down the phenomena to trickery. Two of the family, however, with Baron de Guldenstubbé, again visited the vault. They found the coffins in the same disorder as before, all piled up confusedly, with the exception of the same three. This convinced them of the desirability of an investigation of some kind, and every coffin having been carefully put into its proper place, the doors were again locked, and the keys placed in the hands of the Baron de Guldenstubbé, with a view to an official inquiry.
A court or committee was then formed, consisting of the Baron de Guldenstubbé as president, the Bishop of the Province of Livonia (to which Oesel belongs) as vice-president, M. Luce, a physician (who was, it may be observed, a professed atheist), M. Schmidt, the burgomeister of Ahrensburg, two members of the Consistory, one of the syndics, and a secretary. These went in a body to the chapel to make a complete examination of the vault and everything appertaining to it.
Again were the coffins found all displaced, all excepting the same three as before. There they stood or lay in a grotesque heap. The lightest of these coffins was of extremely thick oak, and would require the exertions of two men to lift it, while others were much heavier. But here they were, more than simply lifted — they had been stood on end, rolled to and fro, and tossed about like boxes of pasteboard.
The first impression of the committee was that the outrage might have been perpetrated for purposes of robbery. Another chapel vault in the same cemetery had some time before been broken into, and the heavy gold fringe decorating the coffin sides had been cut off. But here no gold fringe was missing, and the coffins had evidently not been opened. To be perfectly certain, however, they had a few of the lids lifted, but found in every case all the jewellery, rings, etc., which it was the practice in Oesel to bury with the corpse. Where the bodies had long since crumbled to dust, there were still trinkets at the bottom of the coffin. The lids were refastened, and the coffins replaced in their proper positions.
Then it occurred to a member of the committee that perhaps the Buxhoewdens had some wealthy enemies, whose pitiful spite had prompted insult to the dead, and had led them to invade the chapel by subterraneous passages under the foundation of the vault. Workmen were therefore sent for, and the whole pavement of the vault was taken up, the foundations of the chapel laid bare, and every crevice minutely examined by practised eyes; still, however, with no result. No secret entrance, no passage, no solitary crack existed.
Then everything was put back, the vault pavement was replaced, and all made secure. The coffins having been put in their places, exact notes were taken of the position of each one. Further, an ingenious expedient was adopted to detect any future disturbance of the vault from below in case any undiscovered subterraneous inlet existed. A quantity of fine wood ashes, in the form of almost impalpable powder, was procured and carefully spread over the whole of the floor of the vault, working backward toward the door. This was laid thick and perfectly smooth, so as to show distinctly any footmark, while it would be obviously impossible for anybody to enter from below, and replace the floor after him without leaving the ashes in a disturbed state. When the floor had been covered and they had arrived — still working backward — at the door of the vault, that door was closed, locked, and doubly sealed, first with the Consistory seal and then with the seal of the city. Then the fine wood ashes were strewed over the steps ascending to the chapel, and the door at the top of the steps was locked and doubly sealed, just as the other had been. After this the whole of the chapel floor itself was covered with the fine ashes — always working backward toward the door — and finally the outer chapel door was carefully locked and double sealed in the same way as the others. Then guards were selected from the garrison of Ahrensburg, and set to watch for three days and nights around the chapel, being relieved at very short intervals to prevent any possibility of complicity on their part with unauthorised interference.
During these three days and nights the noises were louder and more terrifying than ever, and at the end of the time the investigating body approached the chapel with the full expectation of making an important discovery.
The outside chapel door was first examined; it was just as it had been left, with the seals unbroken. It was then opened, and the chapel was inspected. The wood ashes remained undisturbed and unmarked upon the floor. The door at the top of the staircase was reached — fastened still, and the seals unbroken. The steps were still covered with the wood ash, undisturbed. They approached the door of the vault itself, and had ascertained that the seals were intact, as upon the other doors, when a singular low, half-choking sound from the interior of the vault was heard. With no delay they broke the seals, unlocked the door, and looked in.
No living or moving soul there, and no sound. But in the middle of the vault, again what a sight! The coffins piled in more grotesque fashion than ever; many stood on end, head downward; and one, in the middle, standing on end, but head uppermost, had the lid partially forced off the upper part, and protruding through the opening was a ghastly, shrivelled arm and hand, pointing upward!
With fear and anxiety they entered the vault and examined the lid of this horrible coffin. The inscription showed it to be that of Carl de Buxhoewden, and there stuck out his arm, holding aloft the hand which had been found grasping the razor in death!
But, more singular than all, there lay the ash powder, a smooth and unruffled coating, without a single mark upon it, excepting the footprints of those of the committee who had entered the vault, and which each had carefully noted when he made them.
There was no trace of robbery. Not an inch of the surface of floor, walls, or roof bore the mark of a touch; and everything but the ghastly pile of-coffins remained as they had left it. And there, undisturbed, side by side, in the places where loving hands had placed them years before; lay the coffins of the saintly woman and the two little children, hallowed through all this hellish riot.
; The coffins were all taken out and buried separately. Then no more noises were heard. The investigating body drew up a full and detailed report, giving all the particulars of the case and of the examinations which had been made, and this report was signed by each member. The document is still in existence, and is deposited in the archives of the Consistory of Oesel. It can be inspected by visitors upon the production of satisfactory credentials, and, of course, has all the weight, as evidence, of a careful judicial report, drawn up by a responsible body of men of superior education and occupying a recognised official status, who record simply their own observations after a most thorough and complete investigation.
It is, perhaps, worthy of observation that one of the investigators, M. Luce, a physician and scientist of high abilities, who had before his experience in this matter professed atheism, immediately afterward made open declaration of an entire change in his religious views, and admitted it to have been brought about by what he saw in the vault of the chapel of the Buxhoewdens.
THE LICH-WAKE AT MONIFIETH
THERE are many anecdotes extant of practical jokers who, in the attempt to practise upon the superstitious fears of their friends and neighbours, have had the tables very severely turned upon themselves. One of the saddest of these, and one which is fairy well known and said to be perfectly authentic, tells of a wager made between two young lieutenants in an English Line regiment, who were very close friends. They were stationed at a town, the churchyard of which had a ghostly reputation, and the subject of ghosts occurred one day at mess, when one defied the other, by a bet, to remain in a particular part of the churchyard all night. The bet was readily accepted, and, armed with his sword and pistols, the intended victim of a practical joke took up his position at the place agreed upon, and waited. Meanwhile, the bullets had been surreptitiously withdrawn from his pistols, and his friend, enveloped in a sheet, and carrying a bullet in each hand, concealed himself behind a neighbouring tombstone, while sundry members of the mess ensconced themselves in the vicinity to enjoy the fun.
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