by F. Anstey
One more incident before I took my departure. I had lost a long black silk glove—searched everywhere—in vain. One night I had gone out to get something for my husband’s supper. I stood beside the railings of a garden square
That is another mystery that will never be solved at least by me.
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I leave you awhile to ponder over what I have written while I take myself to Sussex
Not the place I should have selected. My Husband liked the place & people. I seldom had his society. For a considerable time I did not miss him—furnishing & arranging domestic matters. Took a month before we were quite settled.
During that time I was better. Voices & apparitions gone I hoped never to return. I slept well & altogether a great improvement. House new, furnature [sic] new—excitement new.
One evening I went out on an exploring expedition, after walking about 5 miles sat down to rest. Suddenly I became possessed with a strong desire to be home again—felt as if something dreadful had occurred or was about to occur. I jumped up. As I did so I heard the dear sweet voice of my little daughter say ‘Mother Mother.’ I had been thinking of her & wondering how she looked. She promised to grow up very pretty. She was with her sister at school by family arrangement. Vacations spent with their father’s mother.
Home late having missed way—preoccupied & sad. A letter awaiting me containing the sad tidings of death of my favourite child. She died of scarlatina fever.6
Job’s wife’s mood angelic compared with mine because I really did curse God without any prompting.7
I shed no tears. After all only a short time must elapse before I see her. I have a perfect understanding with God & believe that the method I shall adopt to produce that everlasting sleep will not be disapproved of by him.
I sat alone in my Husband’s study—darkness of despair—dry sorrow—eyeballs hot as fire—no sound but ticking of clock.
Suddenly a shriek of mocking laughter. At first thought it was some of the
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that curiosity for which they are famous. With my usual desire to acertain [sic] a cause I went into all the rooms.
Return to the Study—a bright fire & a still brighter lamplight. Tried to read. A large pierglass on mantelpiece opposite. On table a violin in case, close to table a music stand with instruction book. Brass musical instruments in corners—on walls my guitar.
Room well & very comfortably furnished—table covered with rich crimson cloth—window hangings of same. 2 easy chairs handsome carpet & hearthrug. Everything to please the eye & sense. Nothing to depress or cause one to feel gloomy.
Presently loud note or sound from the trombone after string of violin sent forth a rather loud sound—more like the snapping of a string than anything else—leaves of music book distinctly turned.
Great Heavens what could it be? My eyes fell on pierglass—reflection of female form gliding towards door—guitar touched but faintly.
Stealthy tread outside in passage as if hesitating & whispering in consultation whether to enter. Haunted or mad! And after the dreadful time that I had in London & the way in which I managed to control myself together with the tact & energy that I displayed in removing from London I could come to no other conclusion than that I was haunted by either devils or angels.
How could I have been mad. It was I who selected every article of furnature [sic] & superintended the arrangements. I was obliged to meet with people in a business way & converse with them in a businesslike manner. Yet no one noticed anything peculiar about me. I should have observed it if they had. I was and am a mystery to myself.
I think there are few women on earth possessed of such power of control over self
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or concealment of feelings as I am.
Now the domestic machinery was revolving smoothly these dreadful fiends were come to torment & goad me to madness.
But to resume … I did not wait long for my ghostly visitants to enter. I left the room & proceeded to light up the whole house—even to the back kitchen. 4 rooms upstairs and 3 down. I sat on top landing & had a view of all the doors.
After a little I heard faint & low the voice of my dear dead daughter call apparently from the breakfast-parlour at back of study & on the ground floor. ‘Mother darling, come away with me now.’ I rushed downstairs. Voice seemed outside window—she still kept calling me from garden. I ran into garden. All still & calm. Air soft & warm.
Inhabitants chiefly seafaring—their families in bed before 9 & at any time when on land you could hear the plash plash of the tide.
My husband was never very demonstrative in his affections—so taken up by his new friends—more & more careless of my society. The fact is I think he was half afraid of me. Another thing he was full of anecdotes and ‘good company.’ Out of 12 months he never spent 4 nights at home with me. Never home before midnight. We were seldom together except at meal times. Separate bedrooms by mutual arrangement. My servant went home to sleep after 6 o’clock. Her husband was a sailor.
On my return from garden I found my husband had returned. He wanted to know what I meant by having lights all over the house. I told him exactly what had occurred. He said I must have dreamed it. Examined violin & other instruments. Found nothing the matter with them. Said I ought to have someone to stay with me during his absence.
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Soon found I had greater difficulties to contend with. Rest broken so often during night to remain in bed impossible. No alternative but to wander all over the house or sit at drawing-room window & gladly rest my head on the cold stone.
What a wretched miserable woman I felt—go where I would there were the voices of people long since dead & of those I knew were alive constantly talking to me—sometimes imploringly sometimes menacingly—crowding together or scattered all over the house—crouching in corners. Words seemed to issue from the ground.
My child’s voice I particularly noticed was more clear more distinct than the others. She always appeared to be alone—always same words requesting me to accompany her.
This continued for several weeks—except that for some hours every day I heard nothing whatever & what peace I had.
Very very thin—appetite altered for worse—felt quite worn out. No one to observe change but my husband & I would not see a doctor. No bodily ailment & I would not think of telling him how wretchedly my days & nights were spent.
One night I sat in breakfast-room when I heard the feeble cry of an infant just over my head—close to my ear—or right away at top of house.
When that ceaced [sic], a strangely peculiar singing noise as if someone were humming some horrid ditty—breaking off & beginning again.
If I rushed into garden, wind whistled the unfinished portion in my ear, untill [sic] I could liken my head to an old ruin through which the wind rushed at will.
Heard a full band play some delightful music from 2 to 4 in early morning. I could even remember a portion of a tune for an hour together.
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One particular night I was quite free from any sound—returned to bed about eleven if not to sleep to rest.
Must describe how I was positioned.
I lay with my feet towards window—close to window a wardrobe with plate glass door—& in which I could see any passing object—drew a pedestal cupboard to bedside as was my usual habit & on it placed my reading lamp.
Had read about 15 minutes when sudden rush at window—before I could jump up those dreadful voices commenced again. Counted 7 distinct voices—from feeble cry of a young infant to the deep tones of a man’s voice. Scramble to get nearest the glass. Loud awful voices. Could not distinguish words v
ery clearly at first. Confused babble—persistent determination.
Cry of baby most heartrending as if in dreadful agony.
Voices of women (of our own family) accused me of having committed every offence that comes within the meaning of the ‘Ten Commandments.’
For the first time I answered back—denying—when the awful deep voice of the man spoke in such an accusing manner—‘Hidden Children—Hidden Children’—raising voice at ‘hidden’ and lowering it at ‘Children’ like the rumbling of distant thunder and ending with a groan. Words echoed behind my head so I was attacked at both ends of room.
After a little time I felt [sic] getting stronger & I said I would not allow even the devil & all his imps to get the better of me—I would not be conquered but would open the window. I sat up in my bed—preparatory to getting out—when I saw in wardrobe door my dear little daughter. She looked pale & rather thin—her eyes very brilliant—she wore the ordinary house dress of a child of 8. I got only a glance of her reflection as she crossed—the other voices almost inaudible at this time.
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Got out of bed & raised window. Only moon and stars to see. Rush of pure air revived me. Swash of tide against rocks grateful & pleasant sensation.
I can’t say how long I sat at open window—scene so beautiful—on sea vessels of various tonage [sic] passing—reminding me of passing away of souls.
To left high white bare cliffs almost perpendicular—sandy beach in light of moon like a broad white ribbon—favourite walk of mine in my quiet moments—lights from different steamboats—red harbour lights made a pretty picture.
At last I shut out peace & prepared to encounter my late tormentors should they again trouble me. How easily, you will say, I could put off all traces of my recent disturbance & how indifferent I appear in anticipation of my second attack.
You will perhaps think I ought to have occupied same room as my husband or gone to him when voices so annoying—I should like to have done so sometimes—but he locked his bedroom door—we had separate sleeping rooms.
It was my own suggestion I admit but I think his acceptance of arrangement was too hasty. He took my words in a literal sense—whether he was glad or otherwise I could not learn. I only know that he performed his allotted part to perfection. He said ‘go to my own room & not bother him.’
I had the advantage that I could wander <?> all over the house & while away the time as I liked. Always pleased when morning dawned.
I went out on 3 or 4 occasions to spend the day or evening with wife of my husband’s greatest & most intimate friend.
But the effort to preserve a calm exterior & collected manner before strangers whom I met on these occassions (sic) too much for me.
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Dreadful tune dinning in my ears all the time.
At last I refused to go out altogether. Husband annoyed. Said it would be unpleasant for him as he must give some reason for my refusal. I would not let the people know my life was so haunted. I still attributed my annoyance to being haunted.
How could I possibly be insane. No woman on earth could be more cautious more circumspect than I. How could I always control my feelings before people—tradespeople for instance—who called for orders. Messengers from my husband’s office—all these I was obliged to see myself & send back correct answers.
Another night to spend in wretchedness—Determined headstrong defiant as I proved myself to be I must succumb at last. I could not eat, sleep, rest, mentally or bodily by night or day.
I knew I was really getting worse & that I could not always keep myself in subjection. Often a strong desire to take to smashing things just to relieve my feelings—especially under the bitterness of my husband’s indifference. I blame him very much for my trouble.
And although it is wrong & in bad taste to speak ill of the dead I cannot help alluding now & again to the cowardly manner in which I have been treated by him.
I always kept a light burning all night in the hall all night [sic] & always of course in my bedroom. I was reading there before my husband came home—ears stuffed with cotton wool—strip of flannel under my chin.
Undisturbed till long after my husband came home. Hoped it would continue—but not to be. Something new was planned: some new and startling mode of torture deliberated on.
Slight noise as if fly had dropped on open page—not a fly but a tiny white specklike atom of snowflake. Remained on book a moment—then out of its centre issued a tiny
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column of sulphurous smoke—faintest possible sound which cotton wool did not prevent me from hearing.
This happened several times. I was most disagreeably impressed—tried to account for it—as I always do for any unusual voice or appearance. At first thought it was a soul passing away & if so the journey could not have been a pleasant one.
Again that it was a presentiment of what was to come & perhaps the latter conclusion was most correct. Why sulphur should aid in its disappearance I dare not express an opinion.
After that voices again at window.
Overhead a regular party discussing my merits and demerits—my mother-in-law—my sister-in-law—my daughter who is now alive—& my brother-in-law, with other voices that I did not recognise. They discussed me fearfully with exception of my daughter & her uncle who took my part in a most decided manner. I heard every word they said distinctly. Seemed to be at a round table. As their voices grew louder & angrier those at window more indistinct.
To my right were two strangers standing at a square opening in the wall. Man & woman. Like the ticket office at railway station.
Woman plainly dressed in black like bible-women who visit amongst poor. Man also in black with white band round his neck.
Woman tried to make me believe that I should go to her Church in seductive tones. I answered rather roughly. She said I could only go to Heaven by joining Church of Rome & through Intercession of Virgin. I scolded her—she took it all in good part—kept turning to the man for his opinion & then again address [sic] me in most persuasive manner. At last I threw the book at her—asking why the man
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didn’t join in the interesting (?) conversation. She said he was a Jesuit & seldom spoke, was much interested in me. I was so very good, so very pretty. I jumped out of bed. The man looked & smiled, said they would give me their address in London. I wrote it on the wallpaper. 54 or 57 Russell Square. When I ceaced [sic] writing they had disappeared.
The man at window cried ‘Hidden Children’ again. I rushed out & ran to my husband’s door—locked—called, no answer. At last I lost all control over myself & screamed to be let in—still no answer. What O what would become of me. Expected that dreadful man to come behind perhaps grasp me.
Never since the world began up to present time did mortal woman ever suffer the awful frienzy [sic] of a maddened brain. No madhouse ever yet errected [sic] or peopled etc. Every drop of blood in my Body felt like fire—temples felt as if throbbing would rend my head in two.
I ran down & got the meat chopper & smashed in panels of door—put in my hand & turned the key. I was inside. What a picture met my view. Husband trembling at raised window—never moved nor uttered sound.
My first impulse was to kill him there & then. I raised weapon with that intention—scream of ‘Mother come away’ arrested my hand. My child’s voice saved me from becoming a ‘murderer.’ The scene—splinters of wood—open window. Many a time it glides before me. I threw chopper through window & ran out of room into garden & reached riverside—nothing on but nightgown & thick felt dressing gown. Cold morning air calmed me. I returned—found Husband in study writing—his first words were ‘You will be the death of me’
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& I firmly believe he spoke the truth. But then he brought it all on himself. I will not enter into details regarding my husband’s illness & its unhappy result. I am now keenly alive to that disgraceful outburst of mad passion.
When I look around on the
majority of patients in this house & see the care the attention lavished upon them consequent on the display of some petty vulgar temper that they wilfully & viciously give way to & don’t make effort to control but feed & encourage it with no other object in their mean composition than attract notice of ‘Matron’ & ‘Doctor’ & receive special notice & special words of mild reproof which only encourages them the more in their wickedness….
But then I will not try to contrast myself with such people—it would be too utterly absurd—position and circumstances of most of patients differ much from what mine has been.
The suppression of passion a difficult thing—fighting the devil—a dreadful battle. Many a victory have I gained & unfortunately I have been defeated but not often.
Husband went to his business after noon. Doctor and Matron called. I was perfectly collected—knew his intention—to send me to Asylum—but Doctor could detect no traces of insanity. I decided to go to London & see a Doctor myself.
Voices again. ‘It is one o’clock & your husband is dead.’
Husband stayed at hotel—never came near me.
At night I sat in study—a cheerful room—more colour about it—strains of music—as if musical box on window ledge—played ‘Blue Bells of Scotland’8 till 6 a.m. I thought it was held by someone passing. I rather liked it.
Voice of my little daughter again—also of my sister. Heartrending crying. How I wish
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I were possessed of better descriptive powers—how much more readable this story would be! My sister’s voice told me our mother was dead—first time I had heard of it. She said she died in April & was buried between George Henry <?> & herself. She had met none of our relatives was quite alone & such a long dark way to go. I asked her if she was in Heaven. No answer but her grief dreadful something appaling. [sic] Should I go to Heaven when I died. She said never never never. Well, I thought that is certainly not a very bright prospect for me to contemplate. Music playing all this time. I wrote that day to know if Mother alive. Received answer that she had died 9 months previously & buried where my sister had told me. That hymn called ‘We shall meet to part no more’9 a delusion & not to be relied on because my sister was quite long enough to have discovered her relations.