Ralph Shirley, editor of "The Occult Review" compiled several cases in this text.
An article appearing in the April issue of the National Review from the
pen of Capt. Humphries, once more draws attention to the subject of the
apparition in visible form of deceased animals. Capt. Humphries has various
stories to relate which have come within his own personal knowledge, and they
are stories in several instances which can be paralleled by the records already
given in earlier numbers of the Occult Review. Take, for instance, the
following story of the apparition to a child of its pet cat:
« The following
authenticated case (says Capt. Humphries) happened in the Midland counties of
England at a house where the writer was frequently present, and from personal
observation can confirm every detail, and which can also be vouched for by the
mother and father of the boy.
The boy was four years old, and
spent much of his time in the company of a large white cat who shared his joys
and pleasures. The cat died, but its death was carefully guarded from the
child, when some weeks after the boy asked why it was that his old cat only
came to see him at night, and that immediately after going to bed. Upon being
questioned, he said “It looks much the same, only thinner. I expect, as he goes
away all the day time, he has not been properly fed.” »
This, says the writer, went on at intervals for about four months.
A close parallel to the above story will be found in the issue of the
Occult Review for July 1905, the narrator being the late Mrs. Nora Chesson, and
the experience her own. I make no apology for reproducing it here in full. She
wrote:
« Perhaps the next time
that the Other World touched me, being older I was more ready to be touched,
for your ordinary school-girl is a healthy happy animal, pagan to the tips of
her fingers, selfish to the last cell of her brain.
I had rolled my hair up to the
crown of my head, and my skirts were on visiting terms with my ankles, when the
home circle was suddenly narrowed by the loss of a pet cat, a little loving
creature who did not need the gift of speech, her eloquent emerald eyes were
such homes of thought, the touches of her caressing head and pleading paw so
naturally tender and persuasive.
Sickness of some kind had kept me
to my room for a week, and I had wondered why my cat Minnie had not courted my
company as usual, but accounted for her sudden indifference by a possible
reflux of motherly devotion to her kittens, now about six weeks old.
The first morning of my
convalescence the bedroom door, which stood ajar, opened a little further and
Minnie came in. She rubbed her pretty tortoise-shell tabby coat against me in
affectionate greeting; she clasped my hand with ecstatic paws in a pretty
fondling gesture that was all her own; she licked my fingers, and I felt her
white throat throbbing with her loud purring, and then she turned and trotted
away.
"Minnie has been to see me at last," said I to the maid who
brought in my lunch. "I wonder why she kept away from me so long!”
“Minnie has been dead and buried these two days, and her kitten’s fretting
itself to skin and bone for her,” said Louisa looking scared. “Your mamma would
not tell you while you weren’t well. Miss, for she knew you’d take on, being
that fond of the little cat.”
Minnie was undoubtedly dead and
buried, and a stone from our garden rockery was piled upon her place of burial,
yet as undoubtedly Minnie came to welcome my return to health. Is this
explicable? I know that it is true. »
Other records of cat apparitions have appeared from time to time in
these pages, one well-authenticated one hailing from Blackheath. Although,
however, the cat has a reputation of being a specially psychic animal, the
stories of posthumous appearances from the animal world are by no means
confined to the feline tribe. Dogs, in fact, figure more largely than cats, both
in ancient and modem ghost lore. William of Deloraine, it may be remembered, in
The Lay of the Last Minstrel, after
the apparition of Michael Scott at Branksome Hall, is described as having been
found
. . . speechless, ghastly, wan.
Like him of whom the story ran.
Who spoke the spectre hound in Man.
This reference is to the apparition of a black spaniel (the Mauthe
Doeg—pronounced Moddy Doo) who used to appear in the soldiers' guard-room at
Peel town in the Isle of Man, and remained unmolesting and unmolested, a
recognized visitor for some time, until on one occasion a drunken soldier
pursued him out of the door, vowing that he would discover whether he were dog
or devil.
What happened at the encounter history does not relate, as the soldier
after his return was never able to speak again, and died in agony at the
expiration of the third day—so runs the story.
A double instance of a canine ghost is cited by Capt. Humphries from
Ireland:
« A woman (he says)
living in Co. Roscommon constantly saw the footmarks of, as she described it,
“a good sized dog” in one of the rooms of her house. She never saw the animal itself in either
material or spirit form, but her mother did, who said it was brown in colour
with two white paws; it walked to a chair near the open fireplace, looked
round, smelling the ground, walked slightly lame with one hind leg, and then
passed out of the room by a side window in the large old-fashioned bay.
The occupants of the house had
only been there some two years: the apparition was not seen for the first six
months, but this may be accounted for by the fact that it was summer time and
the family who lived in the old mansion for generations were never there in the
Summer.
Upon mentioning the apparition to an old female inhabitant of the
neighbouring village, she said that the late Sir A had a dog of that colour and
markings as described, which was accidentally shot, and limped ever afterwards.
The animal was devoted to his
master, who sat much in a chair near to the hearth referred to. The present
owners did not possess a dog. At the Same place a black dog was frequently seen
in the avenue close to a tree beside the main drive, and the horses in the
carriage nearly always shied, particularly about dusk, and on more than one
occasion refused to pass the spot. »
Perhaps the most dramatic story on record of a phantom dog is that which
is told in Mrs. Catherine Crowe’s Ghosts
and Family Legends, and was
reprinted in the Occult Review of May 1908 under the title of “The Dutch
General's Story.” This was the record of a phantom dog, Mungo by name, a large
Newfoundland, black with a white streak on its side, which had been the pet dog
in a Dutch regiment, and after death made it its business to wake up any
sentinels asleep at their posts.
A sceptical major in the army made up his mind to have a shot at the dog
if he ever got a chance of doing so. Eventually he availed himself of a
favourable opportunity, with the result that his son, whom the dog was about to
warn by a friendly bark, was found sleeping at his post and in consequence
tried by court-martial and condemned to be shot.
This story is sufficiently thrilling and gruesome, but a greater tax on
our credulity is demanded by one reproduced for the benefit of the public
interested in the occult by Mr. Andrew Lang in his book entitled Dreams and
Ghosts (Publishers, Longmans).
In this case the interest is heightened by the fact that there were very
numerous witnesses to the occurrences, and the original record is in the
handwriting of Bishop Rattray, who had full knowledge of the circumstances
surrounding the incident.
Perhaps the Bishop found it more easy to be convinced from the fact that
he had so frequently read in church the evidence appertaining to the
conversational powers of Balaam's ass. In any case the remarkable point of this
story is that it is an account of an animal that, like its predecessor in
Israelitish history, carried on a conversation in intelligible form with a
human being.
I do not ask my readers to accept the bona fides of this story, but I
follow in the footsteps of Mr. Andrew Lang in citing a record, the amazing
character of which can almost be overlooked, owing to the apparent air of bona
fides of the narrator, and the circumstantiality of the narrative.
« I have sent you (says
the Bishop, addressing his correspondent) an account of an apparition as
remarkable, perhaps, as anything you ever heard of, and which, considering all
its circumstances, leaves, I think, no ground of doubt to any man of common
sense.
The person to whom it appeared is
one William Soutar, a tenant of Balgowan’s, who lives in Middle Mause, within
about half a mile from this place on the other side of the river, and in view
from our windows of Craighall House. He is about 37 years of age, as he says,
and has a wife and bairns.
The following is an account from
his own mouth; and because there are some circumstances fit to be taken in as
you go along, I have given them with reference at the end, that I may not
interrupt the sense of the account, or add anything to it. Therefore, it begins:
“In the month of December in the
year 1728, about sky-setting, I and my servant, with several others living in
the town (farmsteading) heard a screeching (screeching, crying) and I followed
the noise, with my servant, a little way from the town. We both thought we saw what had the
appearance to be a fox, and hounded the dogs at it, but they would not pursue
it."
William Soutar goes on to state that he met the animal again at
intervals on various occasions. The
fourth of these was on the second Monday of December 1730, and on this occasion
he states that it was in the same place as he had previously seen it, just
about sun-setting.
After it had passed him on this occasion, as it was going out of sight, he
declares it spoke with a low voice, “so that I distinctly heard it say these
words: Within eight or ten days do or die“
and he continues, “thereupon it disappeared.”
On the Saturday
after, as I was at my own sheep cots putting in my sheep, it appeared to me
again just after daylight, betwixt day and skylight, and upon saying these
words:
“Come to the Spot of ground within half an hour,” it just disappeared.
Whereupon I came home to my own house,
and took up a staff and also a sword off the head of the bed, and went straight
to the place where it used formerly to appear to me; and after I had been there
some minutes and had drawn a circle about me with my staff, it appeared to me.
And I spoke to it saying, “In the name of God and Jesus Christ, what are
you that troubles me?”
And it answered me, “I am David Soutar, George Soutar’s brother. I
killed a man more than five and thirty years ago, when you was new born, at a bush
be-east the road as you go into the isle.”
And as I was going away I stood again and said, “David Soutar was a man,
and you appear like a dog.”
Whereupon it spoke to me again, saying, “I killed him with a dog, and
therefore I am made to speak out of the mouth of a dog, and tell you you must
go and bury these bones.”
Upon this I went straight to my
brother to his house, and told him what had happened to me. My brother having
told the minister of Blair, he and I came to the minister on the Monday
thereafter, as he was examining in a neighbour’s house in the same town where I
lived.
And the minister, with my brother
and me and two or three more, went to the place where the apparition said the
bones were buried, when Rychalzie met us accidentally; and the minister told
Rychalzie the story in the presence of all that were there assembled, and
desired the liberty from him to break up the ground to search for the bones.
Rychalzie made some scruples to
allow us to break up the ground, but said he would go along with us to
Glasclune; and if he were advised he would allow search to be made.
Accordingly he went straight
along with my brother and me and James Chalmers, a neighbour who lives in the
hill town of Mause, to Glasclune, and told Glasclune the story as above
narrated; and he advised Rychalzie to allow the search to be made, whereupon he
gave his consent to it.
The day after, being Friday, we
convened about thirty or forty men and went to the isle, and broke up the
ground in many places, searching for the bones, but we found nothing.
On Wednesday, December 23, about
12 o'clock, when I was in my bed, I heard a voice but saw nothing; the voice
said, “Come away.”
Upon this I arose out of my bed,
cast on my coat and went to the door, but did not see it. And I said, “In the
name of God what do you demand of me now?”
It answered, “Go, take up these bones.”
I said, “How shall I get these bones?”
It answered again, “At the side of a withered bush, and there are but
seven or eight of them remaining.”
I asked, “Was there any more guilty of that action but you?”
It answered, “No.”
I asked again, “What is the reason you trouble me?”
It answered, “Because you are the youngest.”
Then I said to it, “Depart from me, and give me a sign that I may know
the particular spot, and give me time.”
On the morrow, being Thursday, I
went alone to the isle to see if I could find any sign, and immediately I saw
both the bush, which was a small bush, the greatest stick in it being about the
thickness of a staff, and it was withered about half way down; and also the
sign, which was about a foot from the bush.
The sign was an exact cross, thus
X; each of the two lines was about a foot and a half in length and near three
inches broad, and more than an inch deeper than the rest of the ground, as if
it had been pressed down, for the ground was not cut. On the morrow, being
Friday, I went and told my brother of the voice that had spoken to me, and that
I had gone and seen the bush that it had directed me to and the above mentioned
sign at it.
The next day, being Saturday, my
brother and I went, together with seven or eight men with us, to the isle.
About sunrising we all saw the bush and the sign at it; and upon breaking up
the ground just at the bush, we found the bones, viz., the chaft-teeth (jaw
teeth, molars) in it, one of the thigh bones, one of the shoulder blades, and a
small bone which we supposed to be a collar bone, which was mare consumed than
any of the rest, and two other small bones, which we thought to be bones of the
sword arm. By the time we had digged up these bones, there convened about forty
men who also saw them. The minister and Rychalzie came to the place and saw
them. »
To make a long story short, the bones were collected together and duly
buried, and William Soutar relates that there were nearly a hundred persons at
the burial, and it was a little after sunset that they were buried. The Bishop
appends his comment at the end of this narrative, saying that he had written it
down as stated by William Soutar in the presence of Robert Graham, brother to
the laird of Balgowan, and "of my two sons, James and John Rattray at
Craighall.”
Apparently the tradition is that the man was murdered for his money, and
that he was a Highland drover on his return journey from the South; that he
arrived late at night at the Mains of Mause, that he spent the night here, but
left early the next morning accompanied by David Soutar with his dog, who
offered to show him the road, but that with the assistance of the dog he
murdered the drover and took his money at the place mentioned. Evidently the
William Soutar to whom the phantom dog appeared was a member of the same family
as the murderer.
It is curious how often apparitions of animals are associated with
deaths of human beings. A lady of my acquaintance narrates how at her
grandfather’s death a black dog appeared in the house and on her father (his
son's) attempting to pat it, it snapped at the boy and disappeared, and in
spite of every attempt to discover it, and the fact that all doors were shut,
no trace of it could afterwards be met with. The appearance of the dog
synchronized with the time of the grandfather’s death, who, it may be added,
had lived a wild and reckless life and enjoyed a very evil reputation.
A number of stories of this character are narrated in a book just
brought out by the publishers of the Occult Review, entitled Stranger than Fiction. One of these is
as follows:
« A few years ago, a
certain Mrs. Hudson went to live near the small town in South Wales. One day, not
long after her arrival, she and a friend went for a walk along the high road
near the town. On their way they had to pass a quarry, which was reached by a
gate and path leading off the road. Just after the two ladies had passed this
gate Mrs. Hudson heard a sound of loud panting behind her. She stopped, and looking
back, saw a large black dog come running out of the quarry down the path
towards the gate.
Whereupon she said, “I wonder whose dog that is, and why it was in the
quarry.”
"What dog?” asked the friend, looking in the same direction, “I
don’t see any dog.”
"But there is a dog,” said Mrs. Hudson impatiently, “can’t you see
it standing there looking at us?”
However, the friend could see
nothing, so Mrs. Hudson somewhat impatiently tinned and walked on, feeling
convinced the dog was there, and marveling that her friend neither saw it nor
heard its panting breaths.
Soon after this, happening to
meet her brother-in-law, who was an old resident in the neighborhood, she asked
him who was the owner of a particularly large black dog, describing where she
had seen it. The brother-in-law, listening with a rather queer expression,
answered:
”So you have seen that dog! Then, according to tradition, either you or your
friend will die before six months are past. That was a ghost-dog you saw; it
has appeared to several other people before now, and always forebodes death.”
Mrs. Hudson did not pay much
attention to what she considered a very superstitious explanation of a trivial
occurrence, feeling perfectly certain that what she had seen was a real animal.
But it was an explanation she recalled with a feeling of horror, when within
six months of the date of that walk, her friend most unexpectedly died.
The curious point in this
experience is, of course, that the phantom dog was visible to only one of the
two friends, and that not the one for whom the warning was intended. »
Some of these stories of phantom dogs are very suggestive of the ancient
theory of metempsychosis, and in some of them the animal in the records given
is observed on looking up to possess the features of the human face.
One or two of Capt. Humphries’ records have reference to a more uncommon
type of spectral visitant, the phantom horse.
One of these stories comes from India.
« “A lady,” says the writer, “well
known to myself, was present on this occasion together with her sister.” These
two, with their uncle and aunt, the former a high Government official, were
travelling on duty in India with a number of retainers. For several nights they had to sleep in
tents. Halting one evening near a ruined temple with various small chapels
adjoining it, it was decided to make these the sleeping apartments, the
servants retiring some distance away under canvas. The natives took a strong
objection to this proceeding, as they regarded the precincts of the temple as
haunted, but their warnings were disregarded.
« When darkness commenced to fall three dogs that were with the party fled
to a hill near and refused to return, where they stayed the night. Very shortly
after “lights were out” one of the nieces felt a strange suffocating sensation
as if a net was being drawn over her face; the sister also felt the same, which
extended to the others. Then the tramp,
tramp of horses’ hoofs could be distinctly heard round the centre part and the
ground being pawed as if by a horse's hoofs.
The general got up, thinking some stray horse must have wandered in, and
taking a light went to drive it out, but there was nothing to be seen. His wife
also heard it, and one of the girls offered to come out and help her uncle.
This was repeated several times. The female element were now so wide awake that
further sleep seemed impossible, and it was decided to sit up till dawn in one
of the small] chapels. In the morning the hoof marks round and round the tomb
could be plainly seen, also where the scratching had taken place.
Upon questioning the natives they expressed no surprise, and knew what
had taken place. Their story was that a black horse was seen each night to
enter the temple. The tomb was over the remains of a well-known local native,
who was buried there long after the place had become a ruin. He was much
attached to the animal, and had ordered that immediately after his own death
the horse should be killed and buried upon a hill near within sight of his own
resting place. »
Another horse record has reference to a chestnut mare which died after a
protracted illness, leaving behind a colt about five months old. The occurrence
took place at the author’s own home, and has therefore every claim to serious
consideration on the ground of authenticity.
« An old retainer of
the family who at long intervals used to visit the scenes of his earlier
labours, and who had not heard of the mare’s death, said to the writer one day
when round the stables, “The mare,” calling her by her name, “is not dead yet?”
On being told that she was dead
and buried he expressed profound surprise and would not believe it.
-
“Why,” he said, “I
saw her not ten minutes ago go into her old box to her colt, and heard the
latter neigh.”
This accounted for much before
and afterwards. The colt was often heard to give the sound of welcome when
apparently alone, and would be subjected to intense fits of depression. We used
to remark how it never seemed to forget its mother. The colt was removed to
another box, and the old one was painted, etc., but a favourite hunter of the
writer's refused to enter the box for a long time afterwards. »
Very curious are the stories narrated in connexion with phantom hounds
and phantom foxes. The tradition of Doneraile Park and the apparition of old
Lord Doneraile with his pack of hounds in full cry has already been narrated in
this magazine.
Another record of similar character appears in Miss Lewes’ book above
alluded to. It relates to the experience of a Welsh lady who is called Miss
Johnson, and who was staying during the winter of 1874 with some relations at a
house in the West of England.
« One Sunday evening
about six o'clock, when Miss Johnson and the family were sitting quietly in the
drawing-room, a great noise was suddenly heard exactly like hounds in full cry.
It seemed as if the pack swept past the drawing-room windows, turned the corner
of the house, and entered the yard behind.
The kennels of the local hunt
were only four miles away, and on hunting days the hounds often met or ran in
the direction of the house. But to be disturbed by the cry of hounds on a
Sunday evening was such an unheard-of thing that Miss Johnson and her friends
were, for the moment, petrified with amazement.
Almost immediately the butler
came running to the room, exclaiming, “The hounds must have got loose! I hear
them all in the back yard.”
-
“But how could they
get in?” asked some one; “the gates cannot be open at this hour on Sunday.”
The butler went off looking
rather disconcerted, and not a little scared; and Miss Johnson went into the
hall, where she found her collie-dog —usually a very quiet, gentle animal—
barking and rushing about in a state of frenzy.
She opened the front door, and
the collie ran out, barking and growling savagely, made a great jump in the air
as if springing at somebody or something, then suddenly sank down cowering to
the ground, and crept back whimpering to his mistress' side.
An exhaustive search revealed not a sign of a hound or stray dog about
the place, and Miss Johnson and her relations went to bed that night feeling
much puzzled by the strange incident. Next day came the news that a near
relative of Miss Johnson had died suddenly the evening before at Six o’clock! »
These apparitions appear generally to be associated with deaths in the
family. A similar tradition is current with regard to one of the oldest
families in Ireland, the Gormanstons. When the head of this house dies, it is
said that for some days before the foxes leave all the neighbouring coverts and
collect at the door of the castle.
« This Strange
phenomenon (says Capt. Humphries) occurred when the twelfth Viscount Garmanston
died in 1860, and again in 1876 when the thirteenth Viscount shook off this
mortal coil. The fourteenth holder of the title died in 1907; inquiry was then
made to test the truth or otherwise of the weird legend. Lady Gormanston states
that no record was kept until Jenico, the twelfth Viscount died.
She stated in a paper published
at that time that particular notice was taken all during his illness and at his
death that foxes came round the house barking and making many “uncanny and
creepy noises.” Visitors to the chapel also testify to these facts.
When the fourteenth of his line
died, the son, in another letter which was published in the same paper (The New
Irish Review), stated that when in the chapel watching his father’s remains
prior to burial, he heard noises outside as of a dog sniffing at the door. Upon
opening it, there was a full-grown fox close to the steps and several more
round the church. The coachman confirms the presence of the foxes, also another
family retainer.
The daughter of the thirteenth
successor wrote saying that upon the illness of her father the foxes sat in
pairs under the bedroom windows howling and barking all night, and if driven
away returned. The family crest is a running fox; a similar animal is one of
the supporters of the family arms. »
This very curious story suggests that there is more in the Totem
superstition than would appear at first sight, and bears out the belief that
underlies the whole philosophy of Occultism, that Nature, in whatever guise,
whether in waking or in sleeping, in life or in death, repeats, illustrates,
and interprets herself in symbolic form throughout the endless range of her
varied phenomena.
(Occult Review, May
1911, p.241-250)
OBSERVATION
Many of these phenomena are explained by the fact that animals, like
humans, when they are disembodied (i.e. their physical body has already died)
in some circumstances they still manage to materialize their astral body, and
this subtle body becoming visible to people who are in the physical world.
