Haunted and the Haunters written by Edward Bulwer Lytton
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Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Haunted and the Haunters
A STRANGE STORY.
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
THE HAUNTED AND THE HAUNTERS.
BY
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON (_LORD LYTTON_.)
"To doubt and to be astonished is to recognize our ignorance. Hence it
is that the lover of wisdom is in a certain sort a lover of mythi
[Greek: phylomythos pos], for the subject of mythi is the astonishing
and marvellous."--SIR W. HAMILTON (after Aristotle), _Lectures on
Metaphysics_, vol. i. p. 78.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
BOSTON: LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 1897.
THE HAUNTED AND THE HAUNTERS;
OR, THE HOUSE AND THE BRAIN.
* * * * *
A friend of mine, who is a man of letters and a philosopher, said to
me one day, as if between jest and earnest, "Fancy! since we last met
I have discovered a haunted house in the midst of London."
"Really haunted,--and by what?--ghosts?"
"Well, I can't answer that question; all I know is this: six weeks ago
my wife and I were in search of a furnished apartment. Passing a quiet
street, we saw on the window of one of the houses a bill, 'Apartments,
Furnished.' The situation suited us; we entered the house, liked the
rooms, engaged them by the week,--and left them the third day. No
power on earth could have reconciled my wife to stay longer; and I
don't wonder at it."
"What did you see?"
"Excuse me; I have no desire to be ridiculed as a superstitious
dreamer,--nor, on the other hand, could I ask you to accept on my
affirmation what you would hold to be incredible without the evidence
of your own senses. Let me only say this, it was not so much what we
saw or heard (in which you might fairly suppose that we were the dupes
of our own excited fancy, or the victims of imposture in others) that
drove us away, as it was an undefinable terror which seized both of us
whenever we passed by the door of a certain unfurnished room, in which
we neither saw nor heard anything. And the strangest marvel of all
was, that for once in my life I agreed with my wife, silly woman
though she be,--and allowed, after the third night, that it was
impossible to stay a fourth in that house. Accordingly, on the fourth
morning I summoned the woman who kept the house and attended on us,
and told her that the rooms did not quite suit us, and we would not
stay out our week." She said dryly, "I know why; you have stayed
longer than any other lodger. Few ever stayed a second night; none
before you a third. But I take it they have been very kind to you."
"'They,--who?' I asked, affecting to smile.
"'Why, they who haunt the house, whoever they are. I don't mind them.
I remember them many years ago, when I lived in this house, not as a
servant; but I know they will be the death of me some day. I don't
care,--I'm old, and must die soon anyhow; and then I shall be with
them, and in this house still.' The woman spoke with so dreary a
calmness that really it was a sort of awe that prevented my conversing
with her further. I paid for my week, and too happy were my wife and I
to get off so cheaply."
"You excite my curiosity," said I; "nothing I should like better than
to sleep in a haunted house. Pray give me the address of the one which
you left so ignominiously."
My friend gave me the address; and when we parted, I walked straight
towards the house thus indicated.
It is situated on the north side of Oxford Street, in a dull but
respectable thoroughfare. I found the house shut up,--no bill at the
window, and no response to my knock. As I was turning away, a
beer-boy, collecting pewter pots at the neighboring areas, said to me,
"Do you want any one at that house, sir?"
"Yes, I heard it was to be let."
"Let!--why, the woman who kept it is dead,--has been dead these three
weeks, and no one can be found to stay there, though Mr. J---- offered
ever so much. He offered mother, who chars for him, L1 a week just to
open and shut the windows, and she would not."
"Would not!--and why?"
"The house is haunted; and the old woman who kept it was found dead in
her bed, with her eyes wide open. They say the devil strangled her."
"Pooh! You speak of Mr. J----. Is he the owner of the house?"
"Yes."
"Where does he live?"
"In G---- Street, No. ----."
"What is he? In any business?"
"No, sir,--nothing particular; a single gentleman."
I gave the pot-boy the gratuity earned by his liberal information, and
proceeded to Mr. J----, in G---- Street, which was close by the street
that boasted the haunted house. I was lucky enough to find Mr. J----
at home,--an elderly man with intelligent countenance and
prepossessing manners.
I communicated my name and my business frankly. I said I heard the
house was considered to be haunted,--that I had a strong desire to
examine a house with so equivocal a reputation; that I should be
greatly obliged if he would allow me to hire it, though only for a
night. I was willing to pay for that privilege whatever he might be
inclined to ask. "Sir," said Mr. J----, with great courtesy, "the
house is at your service, for as short or as long a time as you
please. Rent is out of the question,--the obligation will be on my
side should you be able to discover the cause of the strange phenomena
which at present deprive it of all value. I cannot let it, for I
cannot even get a servant to keep it in order or answer the door.
Unluckily the house is haunted, if I may use that expression, not only
by night, but by day; though at night the disturbances are of a more
unpleasant and sometimes of a more alarming character. The poor old
woman who died in it three weeks ago was a pauper whom I took out of a
workhouse; for in her childhood she had been known to some of my
family, and had once been in such good circumstances that she had
rented that house of my uncle. She was a woman of superior education
and strong mind, and was the only person I could ever induce to remain
in the house. Indeed, since her death, which was sudden, and the
coroner's inquest, which gave it a notoriety in the neighborhood, I
have so despaired of finding any person to take charge of the house,
much more a tenant, that I would willingly let it rent free for a year
to any one who would pay its rates and taxes."
"How long is it since the house acquired this sinister character?"
"That I can scarcely tell you, but very many years since. The old
woman I spoke of, said it was haunted when she rented it between
thirty and forty years ago. The fact is, that my life has been spent
in the East Indies, and in the civil service of the Company. I
returned to England last year, on inheriting the fortune of an uncle,
among whose possessions was the house in question. I found it shut up
and uninhabited. I was told that it was haunted, that no one would
inhabit it. I smiled at what seemed to me so idle a story. I spent
some money in repairing it, added to its old-fashioned furniture a few
modern articles,--advertised it, and obtained a lodger for a year. He
was a colonel on half-pay. He came in with his family, a son and a
daughter, and four or five servants: they all left the house the next
day; and, although each of them declared that he had seen something
different from that which had scared the others, a something still was
equally terrible to all. I really could not in conscience sue, nor
even blame, the colonel for breach of agreement. Then I put in the old
woman I have spoken of, and she was empowered to let the house in
apartments. I never had one lodger who stayed more than three days. I
do not tell you their stories,--to no two lodgers have there been
exactly the same phenomena repeated. It is better that you should
judge for yourself, than enter the house with an imagination
influenced by previous narratives; only be prepared to see and to hear
something or other, and take whatever precautions you yourself
please."
"Have you never had a curiosity yourself to pass a night in that
house?" "Yes. I passed not a night, but three hours in broad daylight
alone in that house. My curiosity is not satisfied, but it is
quenched. I have no desire to renew the experiment. You cannot
complain, you see, sir, that I am not sufficiently candid; and unless
your interest be exceedingly eager and your nerves unusually strong, I
honestly add, that I advise you _not_ to pass a night in that house."
"My interest _is_ exceedingly keen," said I; "and though only a coward
will boast of his nerves in situations wholly unfamiliar to him, yet
my nerves have been seasoned in such variety of danger that I have the
right to rely on them,--even in a haunted house."
Mr. J---- said very little more; he took the keys of the house out of
his bureau, gave them to me,--and, thanking him cordially for his
frankness, and his urbane concession to my wish, I carried off my
prize.
Impatient for the experiment, as soon as I reached home, I summoned my
confidential servant,--a young man of gay spirits, fearless temper,
and as free from superstitious prejudice as any one I could think of.
"F----," said I, "you remember in Germany how disappointed we were at
not finding a ghost in that old castle, which was said to be haunted
by a headless apparition? Well, I have heard of a house in London
which, I have reason to hope, is decidedly haunted. I mean to sleep
there to-night. From what I hear, there is no doubt that something
will allow itself to be seen or to be heard,--something, perhaps,
excessively horrible. Do you think if I take you with me, I may rely
on your presence of mind, whatever may happen?"
"Oh, sir, pray trust me," answered F----, grinning with delight.
"Very well; then here are the keys of the house,--this is the address.
Go now,--select for me any bedroom you please; and since the house has
not been inhabited for weeks, make up a good fire, air the bed
well,--see, of course, that there are candles as well as fuel. Take
with you my revolver and my dagger,--so much for my weapons; arm
yourself equally well; and if we are not a match for a dozen ghosts,
we shall be but a sorry couple of Englishmen."
I was engaged for the rest of the day on business so urgent that I had
not leisure to think much on the nocturnal adventure to which I had
plighted my honor. I dined alone, and very late, and while dining,
read, as is my habit. I selected one of the volumes of Macaulay's
Essays. I thought to myself that I would take the book with me; there
was so much of healthfulness in the style, and practical life in the
subjects, that it would serve as an antidote against the influences of
superstitious fancy.
Accordingly, about half-past nine, I put the book into my pocket, and
strolled leisurely towards the haunted house. I took with me a
favorite dog: an exceedingly sharp, bold, and vigilant
bull-terrier,--a dog fond of prowling about strange, ghostly corners
and passages at night in search of rats; a dog of dogs for a ghost.
It was a summer night but chilly, the sky somewhat gloomy and
overcast. Still there was a moon, faint and sickly but still a moon,
and if the clouds permitted, after midnight it would be brighter.
I reached the house, knocked, and my servant opened with a cheerful
smile.
"All right, sir, and very comfortable."
"Oh!" said I, rather disappointed; "have you not seen nor heard
anything remarkable?"
"Well, sir, I must own I have heard something queer."
"What?--what?"
"The sound of feet pattering behind me; and once or twice small noises
like whispers close at my ear,--nothing more."
"You are not at all frightened?"
"I! not a bit of it, sir;" and the man's bold look reassured me on one
point,--namely, that happen what might, he would not desert me.
We were in the hall, the street-door closed, and my attention was now
drawn to my dog. He had at first run in eagerly enough, but had
sneaked back to the door, and was scratching and whining to get out.
After patting him on the head, and encouraging him gently, the dog
seemed to reconcile himself to the situation, and followed me and
F---- through the house, but keeping close at my heels instead of
hurrying inquisitively in advance, which was his usual and normal
habit in all strange places. We first visited the subterranean
apartments,--the kitchen and other offices, and especially the
cellars, in which last there were two or three bottles of wine still
left in a bin, covered with cobwebs, and evidently, by their
appearance, undisturbed for many years. It was clear that the ghosts
were not winebibbers. For the rest we discovered nothing of interest.
There was a gloomy little backyard, with very high walls. The stones
of this yard were very damp; and what with the damp, and what with the
dust and smoke-grime on the pavement, our feet left a slight
impression where we passed. And now appeared the first strange
phenomenon witnessed by myself in this strange abode. I saw, just
before me, the print of a foot suddenly form itself, as it were. I
stopped, caught hold of my servant, and pointed to it. In advance of
that footprint as suddenly dropped another. We both saw it. I advanced
quickly to the place; the footprint kept advancing before me, a small
footprint,--the foot of a child: the impression was too faint
thoroughly to distinguish the shape, but it seemed to us both that it
was the print of a naked foot. This phenomenon ceased when we arrived
at the opposite wall, nor did it repeat itself on returning. We
remounted the stairs, and entered the rooms on the ground-floor, a
dining parlor, a small back-parlor, and a still smaller third room
that had been probably appropriated to a footman,--all still as death.
We then visited the drawing-rooms, which seemed fresh and new. In the
front room I seated myself in an arm-chair. F---- placed on the table
the candlestick with which he had lighted us. I told him to shut the
door. As he turned to do so a chair opposite to me moved from the wall
quickly and noiselessly, and dropped itself about a yard from my own
chair, immediately fronting it.
"Why, this is better than the turning-tables," said I, with a
half-laugh; and as I laughed, my dog put back his head and howled.
F---, coming back, had not observed the movement of the chair. He
employed himself now in stilling the dog. I continued to gaze on the
chair, and fancied I saw on it a pale, blue, misty outline of a human
figure, but an outline so indistinct that I could only distrust my own
vision. The dog now was quiet.
"Put back that chair opposite to me," said I to F---; "put it back to
the wall."
F---- obeyed. "Was that you, sir?" said he, turning abruptly.
"I!--what?"
"Why, something struck me. I felt it sharply on the shoulder,--just
here."
"No," said I. "But we have jugglers present, and though we may not
discover their tricks, we shall catch _them_ before they frighten
_us_."
We did not stay long in the drawing-rooms,--in fact, they felt so damp
and so chilly that I was glad to get to the fire upstairs. We locked
the doors of the drawing-rooms,--a precaution which, I should observe,
we had taken with all the rooms we had searched below. The bedroom my
servant had selected for me was the best on the floor,--a large one,
with two windows fronting the street. The four-posted bed, which took
up no inconsiderable space, was opposite to the fire, which burned
clear and bright; a door in the wall to the left, between the bed and
the window, communicated with the room which my servant appropriated
to himself. This last was a small room with a sofa-bed, and had no
communication with the landing-place,--no other door but that which
conducted to the bedroom I was to occupy. On either side of my
fireplace was a cupboard without locks, flush with the wall, and
covered with the same dull-brown paper. We examined these
cupboards,--only hooks to suspend female dresses, nothing else; we
sounded the walls,--evidently solid, the outer walls of the building.
Having finished the survey of these apartments, warmed myself a few
moments, and lighted my cigar, I then, still accompanied by F----,
went forth to complete my reconnoitre. In the landing-place there was
another door; it was closed firmly. "Sir," said my servant, in
surprise, "I unlocked this door with all the others when I first came;
it cannot have got locked from the inside, for--"
Before he had finished his sentence, the door, which neither of us
then was touching, opened quietly of itself. We looked at each other a
single instant. The same thought seized both,--some human agency might
be detected here. I rushed in first, my servant followed. A small,
blank, dreary room without furniture; a few empty boxes and hampers in
a corner; a small window; the shutters closed; not even a fireplace;
no other door but that by which we had entered; no carpet on the
floor, and the floor seemed very old, uneven, worm-eaten, mended here
and there, as was shown by the whiter patches on the wood; but no
living being, and no visible place in which a living being could have
hidden. As we stood gazing round, the door by which we had entered
closed as quietly as it had before opened; we were imprisoned.
For the first time I felt a creep of undefinable horror. Not so my
servant. "Why, they don't think to trap us, sir; I could break that
trumpery door with a kick of my foot."
"Try first if it will open to your hand," said I, shaking off the
vague apprehension that had seized me, "while I unclosed the shutters
and see what is without."
I unbarred the shutters,--the window looked on the little backyard I
have before described; there was no ledge without,--nothing to break
the sheer descent of the wall. No man getting out of that window would
have found any footing till he had fallen on the stones below.
F----, meanwhile, was vainly attempting to open the door. He now
turned round to me and asked my permission to use force. And I should
here state, in justice to the servant, that, far from evincing any
superstitious terrors, his nerve, composure, and even gayety amidst
circumstances so extraordinary, compelled my admiration, and made me
congratulate myself on having secured a companion in every way fitted
to the occasion. I willingly gave him the permission he required. But
though he was a remarkably strong man, his force was as idle as his
milder efforts; the door did not even shake to his stoutest kick.
Breathless and panting, he desisted. I then tried the door myself,
equally in vain. As I ceased from the effort, again that creep of
horror came over me; but this time it was more cold and stubborn. I
felt as if some strange and ghastly exhalation were rising up from the
chinks of that rugged floor, and filling the atmosphere with a
venomous influence hostile to human life. The door now very slowly and
quietly opened as of its own accord. We precipitated ourselves into
the landing-place. We both saw a large, pale light--as large as the
human figure, but shapeless and unsubstantial--move before us, and
ascend the stairs that led from the landing into the attics. I
followed the light, and my servant followed me. It entered, to the
right of the landing, a small garret, of which the door stood open. I
entered in the same instant. The light then collapsed into a small
globule, exceedingly brilliant and vivid, rested a moment on a bed in
the corner, quivered, and vanished. We approached the bed and examined
it,--a half-tester, such as is commonly found in attics devoted to
servants. On the drawers that stood near it we perceived an old faded
silk kerchief, with the needle still left in a rent half repaired. The
kerchief was covered with dust; probably it had belonged to the old
woman who had last died in that house, and this might have been her
sleeping-room. I had sufficient curiosity to open the drawers: there
were a few odds and ends of female dress, and two letters tied round
with a narrow ribbon of faded yellow. I took the liberty to possess
myself of the letters. We found nothing else in the room worth
noticing,--nor did the light reappear; but we distinctly heard, as we
turned to go, a pattering footfall on the floor, just before us. We
went through the other attics (in all four), the footfall still
preceding us. Nothing to be seen,--nothing but the footfall heard. I
had the letters in my hand; just as I was descending the stairs I
distinctly felt my wrist seized, and a faint, soft effort made to draw
the letters from my clasp. I only held them the more tightly, and the
effort ceased.
We regained the bedchamber appropriated to myself, and I then remarked
that my dog had not followed us when we had left it. He was thrusting
himself close to the fire, and trembling. I was impatient to examine
the letters; and while I read them, my servant opened a little box in
which he had deposited the weapons I had ordered him to bring, took
them out, placed them on a table close at my bed-head, and then
occupied himself in soothing the dog, who, however, seemed to heed him
very little.
The letters were short,--they were dated; the dates exactly
thirty-five years ago. They were evidently from a lover to his
mistress, or a husband to some young wife. Not only the terms of
expression, but a distinct reference to a former voyage, indicated the
writer to have been a seafarer. The spelling and handwriting were
those of a man imperfectly educated, but still the language itself was
forcible. In the expressions of endearment there was a kind of rough,
wild love; but here and there were dark unintelligible hints at some
secret not of love,--some secret that seemed of crime. "We ought to
love each other," was one of the sentences I remember, "for how every
one else would execrate us if all was known." Again: "Don't let any
one be in the same room with you at night,--you talk in your sleep."
And again: "What's done can't be undone; and I tell you there's
nothing against us unless the dead could come to life." Here there was
underlined in a better handwriting (a female's), "They do!" At the end
of the letter latest in date the same female hand had written these
words: "Lost at sea the 4th of June, the same day as--"
I put down the letters, and began to muse over their contents.
Fearing, however, that the train of thought into which I fell might
unsteady my nerves, I fully determined to keep my mind in a fit state
to cope with whatever of marvellous the advancing night might bring
forth. I roused myself; laid the letters on the table; stirred up the
fire, which was still bright and cheering; and opened my volume of
Macaulay. I read quietly enough till about half-past eleven. I then
threw myself dressed upon the bed, and told my servant he might retire
to his own room, but must keep himself awake. I bade him leave open
the door between the two rooms. Thus alone, I kept two candles burning
on the table by my bed-head. I placed my watch beside the weapons, and
calmly resumed my Macaulay. Opposite to me the fire burned clear; and
on the hearthrug, seemingly asleep, lay the dog. In about twenty
minutes I felt an exceedingly cold air pass by my cheek, like a sudden
draught. I fancied the door to my right, communicating with the
landing-place, must have got open; but no,--it was closed. I then
turned my glance to my left, and saw the flame of the candles
violently swayed as by a wind. At the same moment the watch beside the
revolver softly slid from the table,--softly, softly; no visible
hand,--it was gone. I sprang up, seizing the revolver with the one
hand, the dagger with the other; I was not willing that my weapons
should share the fate of the watch. Thus armed, I looked round the
floor,--no sign of the watch. Three slow, loud, distinct knocks were
now heard at the bed-head; my servant called out, "Is that you, sir?"
"No; be on your guard."
The dog now roused himself and sat on his haunches, his ears moving
quickly backwards and forwards. He kept his eyes fixed on me with a
look so strange that he concentred all my attention on himself. Slowly
he rose up, all his hair bristling, and stood perfectly rigid, and
with the same wild stare. I had no time, however, to examine the dog.
Presently my servant emerged from his room; and if ever I saw horror
in the human face, it was then. I should not have recognized him had
we met in the street, so altered was every lineament. He passed by me
quickly, saying, in a whisper that seemed scarcely to come from his
lips, "Run, run! it is after me!" He gained the door to the landing,
pulled it open, and rushed forth. I followed him into the landing
involuntarily, calling him to stop; but, without heeding me, he
bounded down the stairs, clinging to the balusters, and taking several
steps at a time. I heard, where I stood, the street-door open,--heard
it again clap to. I was left alone in the haunted house.
It was but for a moment that I remained undecided whether or not to
follow my servant; pride and curiosity alike forbade so dastardly a
flight. I re-entered my room, closing the door after me, and proceeded
cautiously into the interior chamber. I encountered nothing to justify
my servant's terror. I again carefully examined the walls, to see if
there were any concealed door. I could find no trace of one,--not even
a seam in the dull-brown paper with which the room was hung. How,
then, had the THING, whatever it was, which had so scared him,
obtained ingress except through my own chamber?