The Book of Dreams and Ghosts by Andrew Lang (inspirational books TXT) 📖

The reason for these apprehensions was that on the night of 1st December the maid “heard at the dining-room door several dreadful groans, like a person in extremes”.  They laughed at her, but for the whole of December “the groans, squeaks, tinglings and knockings were frightful enough”.  The rest of the family (Mr. Wesley always excepted) “heard a strange knocking in divers places,” chiefly in the green room, or nursery, where (apparently) Hetty, Patty and Keziah lay.  Emily heard the noises later than some of her sisters, perhaps a week after the original groans.  She was locking up the house about ten o’clock when a sound came like the smashing and splintering of a huge piece of coal on the kitchen floor.  She and Sukey went through the rooms on the ground floor, but found the dog asleep, the cat at the other end of the house, and everything in order.  From her bedroom Emily heard a noise of breaking the empty bottles under the stairs, but was going to bed, when Hetty, who had been sitting on the lowest step of the garret stairs beside the nursery door, waiting for her father, was chased into the nursery by a sound as of a man passing her in a loose trailing gown.  Sukey and Nancy were alarmed by loud knocks on the outside of the dining-room door and overhead.  All this time Mr. Wesley heard nothing, and was not even told that anything unusual was heard.  Mrs. Wesley at first held her peace lest he should think it “according to the vulgar opinion, a warning against his own death, which, indeed, we all apprehended”.  Mr. Wesley only smiled when he was informed; but, by taking care to see all the girls safe in bed, sufficiently showed his opinion that the young ladies and their lovers were the ghost.  Mrs. Wesley then fell back on the theory of rats, and employed a man to blow a horn as a remedy against these vermin.  But this measure only aroused the emulation of the sprite, whom Emily began to call “Jeffrey”.

Not till 21st December did Mr. Wesley hear anything, then came thumpings on his bedroom wall.  Unable to discover the cause, he procured a stout mastiff, which soon became demoralised by his experiences.  On the morning of the 24th, about seven o’clock, Emily led Mrs. Wesley into the nursery, where she heard knocks on and under the bedstead; these sounds replied when she knocked.  Something “like a badger, with no head,” says Emily; Mrs. Wesley only says, “like a badger,” ran from under the bed.  On the night of the 25th there was an appalling vacarme.  Mr. and Mrs. Wesley went on a tour of inspection, but only found the mastiff whining in terror.  “We still heard it rattle and thunder in every room above or behind us, locked as well as open, except my study, where as yet it never came.”  On the night of the 26th Mr. Wesley seems to have heard of a phenomenon already familiar to Emily—“something like the quick winding up of a jack, at the corner of the room by my bed head”.  This was always followed by knocks, “hollow and loud, such as none of us could ever imitate”.  Mr. Wesley went into the nursery, Hetty, Kezzy and Patty were asleep.  The knocks were loud, beneath and in the room, so Mr. Wesley went below to the kitchen, struck with his stick against the rafters, and was answered “as often and as loud as I knocked”.  The peculiar knock which was his own, 1-23456-7, was not successfully echoed at that time.  Mr. Wesley then returned to the nursery, which was as tapageuse as ever.  The children, three, were trembling in their sleep.  Mr. Wesley invited the agency to an interview in his study, was answered by one knock outside, “all the rest were within,” and then came silence.  Investigations outside produced no result, but the latch of the door would rise and fall, and the door itself was pushed violently back against investigators.

“I have been with Hetty,” says Emily, “when it has knocked under her, and when she has removed has followed her,” and it knocked under little Kezzy, when “she stamped with her foot, pretending to scare Patty.”

Mr. Wesley had requested an interview in his study, especially as the Jacobite goblin routed loudly “over our heads constantly, when we came to the prayers for King George and the prince”.  In his study the agency pushed Mr. Wesley about, bumping him against the corner of his desk, and against his door.  He would ask for a conversation, but heard only “two or three feeble squeaks, a little louder than the chirping of a bird, but not like the noise of rats, which I have often heard”.

Mr. Wesley had meant to leave home for a visit on Friday, 28th December, but the noises of the 27th were so loud that he stayed at home, inviting the Rev. Mr. Hoole, of Haxey, to view the performances.  “The noises were very boisterous and disturbing this night.”  Mr. Hoole says (in 1726, confirmed by Mrs. Wesley, 12th January, 1717) that there were sounds of feet, trailing gowns, raps, and a noise as of planing boards: the disturbance finally went outside the house and died away.  Mr. Wesley seems to have paid his visit on the 30th, and notes, “1st January, 1717.  My family have had no disturbance since I went away.”

To judge by Mr. Wesley’s letter to Sam, of 12th January, there was no trouble between the 29th of December and that date.  On the 19th of January, and the 30th of the same month, Sam wrote, full of curiosity, to his father and mother.  Mrs. Wesley replied (25th or 27th January), saying that no explanation could be discovered, but “it commonly was nearer Hetty than the rest”.  On 24th January, Sukey said “it is now pretty quiet, but still knocks at prayers for the king.”  On 11th February, Mr. Wesley, much bored by Sam’s inquiries, says, “we are all now quiet. . . .  It would make a glorious penny book for Jack Dunton,” his brother-in-law, a publisher of popular literature, such as the Athenian Mercury.  Emily (no date) explains the phenomena as the revenge for her father’s recent sermons “against consulting those that are called cunning men, which our people are given to, and it had a particular spite at my father”.

The disturbances by no means ended in the beginning of January, nor at other dates when a brief cessation made the Wesleys hope that Jeffrey had returned to his own place.  Thus on 27th March, Sukey writes to Sam, remarking that as Hetty and Emily are also writing “so particularly,” she need not say much.  “One thing I believe you do not know, that is, last Sunday, to my father’s no small amazement, his trencher danced upon the table a pretty while, without anybody’s stirring the table. . . .  Send me some news for we are excluded from the sight or hearing of any versal thing, except Jeffery.”

The last mention of the affair, at this time, is in a letter from Emily, of 1st April, to a Mr. Berry.

“Tell my brother the sprite was with us last night, and heard by many of our family.”  There are no other contemporary letters preserved, but we may note Mrs. Wesley’s opinion (25th January) that it was “beyond the power of any human being to make such strange and various noises”.

The next evidence is ten years after date, the statements taken down by Jack Wesley in 1726 (1720?).  Mrs. Wesley adds to her former account that she “earnestly desired it might not disturb her” (at her devotions) “between five and six in the evening,” and it did not rout in her room at that time.  Emily added that a screen was knocked at on each side as she went round to the other.  Sukey mentioned the noise as, on one occasion, coming gradually from the garret stairs, outside the nursery door, up to Hetty’s bed, “who trembled strongly in her sleep.  It then removed to the room overhead, where it knocked my father’s knock on the ground, as if it would beat the house down.”  Nancy said that the noise used to follow her, or precede her, and once a bed, on which she sat playing cards, was lifted up under her several times to a considerable height.  Robin, the servant, gave evidence that he was greatly plagued with all manner of noises and movements of objects.

John Wesley, in his account published many years after date in his Arminian Magazine, attributed the affair of 1716 to his father’s broken vow of deserting his mother till she recognised the Prince of Orange as king!  He adds that the mastiff “used to tremble and creep away before the noise began”.

Some other peculiarities may be noted.  All persons did not always hear the noises.  It was three weeks before Mr. Wesley heard anything.  “John and Kitty Maw, who lived over against us, listened several nights in the time of the disturbance, but could never hear anything.”  Again, “The first time my mother ever heard any unusual noise at Epworth was long before the disturbance of old Jeffrey . . . the door and windows jarred very loud, and presently several distinct strokes, three by three, were struck.  From that night it never failed to give notice in much the same manner, against any signal misfortune or illness of any belonging to the family,” writes Jack.

Once more, on 10th February, 1750, Emily (now Mrs. Harper) wrote to her brother John, “that wonderful thing called by us Jeffery, how certainly it calls on me against any extraordinary new affliction”.

This is practically all the story of Old Jeffrey.  The explanations have been, trickery by servants (Priestley), contagious hallucinations (Coleridge), devilry (Southey), and trickery by Hetty Wesley (Dr. Salmon, of Trinity College, Dublin).  Dr. Salmon points out that there is no evidence from Hetty; that she was a lively, humorous girl, and he conceives that she began to frighten the maids, and only reluctantly exhibited before her father against whom, however, Jeffrey developed “a particular spite”.  He adds that certain circumstances were peculiar to Hetty, which, in fact, is not the case.  The present editor has examined Dr. Salmon’s arguments in The Contemporary Review, and shown reason, in the evidence, for acquitting Hetty Wesley, who was never suspected by her family.

Trickery from without, by “the cunning men,” is an explanation which, at least, provides a motive, but how the thing could be managed from without remains a mystery.  Sam Wesley, the friend of Pope, and Atterbury, and Lord Oxford, not unjustly said: “Wit, I fancy, might find many interpretations, but wisdom none”. {220}

As the Wesley tale is a very typical instance of a very large class, our study of it may exempt us from printing the well-known parallel case of “The Drummer of Tedworth”.  Briefly, the house of Mr. Mompesson, near Ludgarshal, in Wilts, was disturbed in the usual way, for at least two years, from April, 1661, to April, 1663, or later.  The noises, and copious phenomena of moving objects apparently untouched, were attributed to the unholy powers of a wandering drummer, deprived by Mr. Mompesson of his drum.  A grand jury presented the drummer for trial, on a charge of witchcraft, but the petty jury would not convict, there being a want of evidence to prove threats, malum minatum, by the drummer.  In 1662 the Rev. Joseph Glanvil, F.R.S., visited the house, and, in the bedroom of Mr. Mompesson’s little girls, the chief sufferers, heard and saw much the same phenomena as the elder Wesley describes in his own nursery.  The “little modest girls” were aged about seven and eight.  Charles II. sent some gentlemen to the house for one night, when nothing occurred, the disturbances being intermittent.  Glanvil published his narrative at the time, and Mr. Pepys found it