Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 1 (of 3). Jonah Barrington

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СКАЧАТЬ was delivered to his mother for burial. – Mrs. O’Flaherty escaped beyond sea, and has, I believe, never since been heard of in the country.

      Such is the history which forms the prelude to an occurrence some time afterward in which I was a party, and which may be regarded as a curious illustration of stories of supposed ghosts.

      A templar and a friend of mine, Mr. David Lauder, a soft, fat, good-humoured, superstitious young fellow, was sitting in his lodgings, (Devereux-court, London,) one evening at twilight. I was with him, and we were agreeably employed in eating strawberries and drinking Madeira. While chatting away in cheerful mood, and laughing loudly at some remark made by one of us, my back being toward the door, I perceived my friend’s colour suddenly change – his eyes seemed fixed and ready to start out of his head – his lips quivered convulsively – his teeth chattered – large drops of perspiration flowed down his forehead, and his hair stood nearly erect.

      As I saw nothing calculated to excite these emotions, I naturally conceived my friend was seized with a fit, and rose to assist him. He did not regard my movements in the least, but seizing a knife which lay on the table, with the gait of a palsied man retreated backward – his eyes still fixed – to a distant part of the room, where he stood shivering, and attempting to pray; but not at the moment recollecting any prayer, he began to repeat his catechism, thinking it the next best thing he could do: as – “What is your name? David Lauder! Who gave you that name? My godfathers and godmothers in my baptism!” &c. &c.

      I instantly concluded the man was mad; and turning about to go for some assistance, was myself not a little startled at sight of a tall, rough-looking personage, many days unshaved, in a very shabby black dress, and altogether of the most uncouth appearance. The stranger and I stood for a moment opposite each other, staring and motionless: at length he broke silence, and addressing my friend, said, in a low croaking voice, “Don’t be frightened, Mr. Lauder; sure ’tis me that’s here.”

      When Davy heard the voice, he fell on his knees, and subsequently flat upon his face, in which position he lay motionless.

      The spectre (as I now began to imagine it was) stalked toward the door, and I was in hopes he intended to make his exit thereby; instead of which, however, having deliberately shut and bolted it, he sat himself down in the chair I had previously occupied, with a countenance nearly as full of horror as that of Davy Lauder himself.

      I was now totally bewildered; and scarce knowing what to do, was about to throw a jug of water over my friend, to revive him if possible, when the stranger, in his croaking voice, cried —

      “For the love of God, give me some of that, – for I am perishing!” – I hesitated, but at length did so: he took the jug and drank immoderately.

      My friend Davy now ventured to look up a little, and perceiving that I was becoming so familiar with the goblin, his courage somewhat revived, although his speech was still confused: – he stammered, rose upon his knees, held up his hands as if in supplication, and gazed at the figure for some time, but at length made up his mind that it was tangible and mortal. The effect of this decision on the face of Davy was as ludicrous as the fright had been. He seemed quite ashamed of his former terror, and affected to be stout as a lion! though it was visible that he was not at his ease. He now roared out in the broad, cursing Kerry dialect: “Why then, blood and thunder! is that you, Lanegan?”

      “Ah, Sir, speak low!” said the wretched being.

      “How the devil,” resumed Davy, “did you get your four quarters stitched together again, after the hangman cut them off of you at Stephen’s Green!”

      “Ah, Gentlemen!” exclaimed the poor culprit, “speak low: have mercy on me, Master Davy; you know it was I taught you your Latin. – I’m starving to death!”

      “You shall not die in that way, you villanous schoolmaster!” said Davy, pushing toward him a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine that stood on the table, – but standing aloof himself, as though not yet quite decided as to the nature of the intruder.

      The miserable creature having eaten the bread with avidity, and drunk two or three glasses of wine, the lamp of life once more seemed to brighten up. After a pause, he communicated every circumstance relating to his sudden appearance before us. He confessed having bought the arsenic at the desire of Mrs. O’Flaherty, and that he was aware of the application of it, but solemnly protested that it was she who had seduced him; he then proceeded to inform us that after having been duly hanged, the sheriff had delivered his body to his mother, but not until the executioner had given a slight cut on each limb, just to save the law; which cuts bled profusely, and were probably the means of preserving his life. His mother, conceiving that the vital spark was not extinct, had put him into bed, dressed his wounded limbs, and rubbed his neck with hot vinegar. Having steadily pursued this process, and accompanied it by pouring warm brandy and water down his throat, in the course of an hour he was quite sensible, but experienced horrid pains for several weeks before his final recovery. His mother filled the coffin he was brought home in with bricks, and got some men to bury it the same night in Kilmainham burial-ground, as if ashamed to inter him in open day. For a long time he was unable to depart, being every moment in dread of discovery: – at length, however, he got off by night in a smuggling boat, which landed him on the Isle of Man, and from thence he contrived to reach London, bearing a letter from a priest at Kerry to another priest who had lived in the Borough, the purport of which was to get him admitted into a monastery in France. But finding the Southwark priest was dead, he then went to Scotland, using various disguises; and returning to town, was afraid, though possessing some little money sent him by his mother, even to buy food, for fear of detection! but recollecting that Mr. Lauder, his old scholar, lived somewhere in the Temple, he had got directed by a porter to the lodging the night before.

      My friend Davy, though he did not half like it, suffered this poor devil to sit in the chamber till the following evening. He then procured him a place in the night coach to Rye, from whence he got to St. Vallery, and was received, as I afterward learnt from a very grateful letter which he sent to Lauder, into the monastery of La Trappe, near Abbeville, where he lived in strict seclusion, and died, as I heard, some years since.

      This incident is not related as a mere isolated anecdote, unconnected with any serious general considerations; but rather with a view to show how many deceptions a man’s imagination may hastily subject him to; and to impress the consideration that nothing should be regarded as supernatural, which can by possibility be the result of human interference.

      In the present case, if Lanegan had withdrawn before Lauder had arisen and spoken to him, no reasoning upon earth could ever have convinced the Templar of the materiality of the vision. As Lanegan’s restoration to life after execution had not at that time been spoken of, nor even suspected, Lauder would have willingly deposed, upon the Holy Evangelists, that he had seen the actual ghost of the schoolmaster who had been hanged and quartered in Dublin a considerable time before; his identification of the man’s person being rendered unequivocal from the circumstance of his having been formerly Lanegan’s pupil. And I must confess that I should myself have seen no reason to doubt Lauder’s assertions, had the man withdrawn from the chamber before he spoke to me – to do which, under the circumstances, it was by no means improbable fear might have induced him.

      Thus one of the “best authenticated ghost stories ever related” has been lost to the history of supernatural occurrences. The circumstance, however, did not cure Davy Lauder in the least of his dread of apparitions, which was excessive.

      Nor have I much right to reproach my friend’s weakness in this particular. I have, on the other hand, throughout my observations admitted – nay, I fear, occasionally boasted – that I was myself superstitious. The species of reading I adopted and ardently pursued from my infancy upward may, I СКАЧАТЬ