A Moment in Time

A Moment In Time

    Today I thought I’d do something different and tell you a story about my great, great, grand-mother. Back in the late 1800’s, or so I’m told, when the family still lived in Suffolk, they owned a small farm and she, being unmarried and in her early twenties had caught the eye of a member of the ‘landed gentry’ who was somewhat wealthy because of his overseas interests and dealings. They courted, much in the fashion of the day, and eventually became engaged then married. 

   Now, the family history for some reason doesn’t say much about the honeymoon- how long for or even where – in all likelihood it was probably somewhere on the coast there and when finished they went to live in his house which was a large, country-style mansion…you can imagine the sort of thing- sweeping lawns , servants, etc. By all accounts they were happy in their life and settled down nicely. 

   Time passed, and as it happened business matters arose – not for the better- and this necessitated trips abroad to be taken by her husband who began to be gone for longer and longer periods of time which did cause problems, but nothing insurmountable. However, as the diary she kept tells us, he had warned her not to intrude on a room at the top of the house that he kept reserved for his own private needs- even the servants were banned from entering- and it was kept locked at all times. 

   Loneliness, boredom, and curiosity are mentioned several times in her journal- at least those parts that survived the passing years and are still readable – and so it seems she became fascinated by the thought of what could be hidden in that room. Knowing where it was she often climbed the narrow, almost secret, stairs that led to the door and stared at it – perhaps imagining sounds or movements behind it and from what we can make out it preyed upon her mind to the point where whenever her husband was away – despite her promising him never to pry into its contents- she would go there to do this albeit she never gained entrance for he had the key well- hidden, even from her.

   Time passed, yet her yearning to discover the secret did not …and as it happened one day her husband was called away for a business meeting that meant he would be gone for at least a month and with the urgency of the situation he left in some haste- and she somehow observed him hiding the key to the door – being in such a rush he had not been as careful as perhaps he should have been, who can say ? 

   Farewells were said, he left, and she retired to their bedroom with said key. In her diary she stated quite clearly of her feelings of guilt at even having taken it for the promise she had given weighed heavily on her mind yet, after a few days, she took it to the door. You may, or may not be, surprised to learn that she did not open it at first- fear of discovery and its consequences possibly prevented her to begin with-being honest we can only guess at her reasons and the state of her mind at this stage. 

   It took, from her recorded thoughts, several trips up and down those stairs before she finally succumbed to temptation and one night, after the servants had all retired to their quarters and she was certain that no one would observe her actions she ascended them once more with only the light of a candle to guide her. 

   Outside, even though the weather was fine, it was quite windy, or so we’re told, and being up in the top of the house it possibly caused a few creaks and groans to issue from the rafters in the roof which can’t have made her feel any better as she approached the door in the shadows and, after a few moments of thought, unlocked it before entering.

With only the light of that candle, from what we can make out, the room was still cloaked in a darkness that meant nothing was visible and so she was forced to take very careful steps as she progressed further inside lest she trip or knock something over- the risk of discovery no doubt still in her head. 

  

We know from what was left for us to read, although as mentioned before not all of it is readable- the wind rose and as it blew through the eaves of the roof it caused the door to close and the candle flickered before going out. Having no way to relight it she was left in absolute darkness with no way to find her way out unless she took the risk of groping about blindly until she found a wall or the door. It was then, apparently, that she heard a low moaning the sound of something dragging itself across the floor towards her.

   And, if I ever find out what happened next, I’ll let you know.

*******************

D W Storer

2018 / 2019

Black Shuck - Hound of Hell?

Black Shuck - Hound of Hell? 

   

Black Shuck

    Black Shuck, sometimes known as ‘Old Shuck’, ‘Old Shuck’ or even just ‘Shuck’ is a legendary ghostly black dog appearing in English legends that is said to roam the coastline and countryside of East Anglia. Tales of the animal are found, for the most part, in Norfolk, Suffolk, the Cambridgeshire fens and Essex.

    One tale in particular springs to mind, that of its appearance on the 4^th of August 1577 at Bungay and Blythburgh, and it is possibly the most well -known report of the creature in which reports of the beast charging in through the entrance of St Mary's Church in Bungay, accompanied by the obligatory peals of thunder, then running up the nave, past the congregation, killing a man and boy en- route, before somehow causing the church steeple to collapse through the roof. After this the tale relates further that its rampage continued as it then ran on to Blythburgh Church where it attacked and killed more people.  Some local accounts claim it to be the work of the Devil and, strangely enough there are scorch marks still visible on the church doors there which are still called by the locals "the devil’s fingerprints"

    The event is remembered, quite darkly, in this verse -
"All down the church in midst of fire, the hellish monster flew, and, passing onward to the quire, he many people slew".

      Bungay Coat of Arms-

The Latin may loosely be translated as

‘Our ways have stood the test of time’

  

    One description, by W A Dutt, in his 1901 book ‘Highways & Byways in East reads, ‘He takes the form of a huge black dog, and prowls along dark lanes and lonesome field footpaths, where, although his howling makes the hearer's blood run cold, his footfalls make no sound. You may know him at once, should you see him, by his fiery eye; he has but one, and that, like the Cyclops', is in the middle of his head. But such an encounter might bring you the worst of luck: it is even said that to meet him is to be warned that your death will occur before the end of the year. So you will do well to shut your eyes if you hear him howling; shut them even if you are uncertain whether it is the dog fiend or the voice of the wind you hear. Should you never set eyes on our Norfolk ‘Snarleyow’ you may perhaps doubt his existence, and, like other learned folks, tell us that his story is nothing but the old Scandinavian myth of the black hound of Odin, brought to us by the Vikings who long ago settled down on the Norfolk coast’

    

‘Scorched claw marks’ of Black Shuck on the
 Church door, Holy Trinity Blythburgh

   Despite this dark tale there are, as with most legends, variants not only on the appearance of the beast but as to its nature too.  In the most southerly point of sightings, the Maldon and Dengie area of Essex, to witness the appearance of Black Shuck signifies an almost immediate death yet other stories tell of Black Shuck merely terrifying his victims but leaving them otherwise unharmed, whilst some portray him as being benign even escorting women on their way home to protect them and even helping lost travellers find their way home.

   There are Black Dogs in most regions folklore, Devon has its ‘Yeth Hound’ (or Yell Hound) - a headless dog, said to be the spirit of an unbaptised child, that rambles through the woods at night making wailing noises. It is also mentioned in the Denham Tracts, a 19th-century collection of folklore by Michael Denham. It may have been one inspiration for the ghost dog in The Sherlock Holme’s story ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’ that roamed Dartmoor by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle which was described as ‘an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen with fire in his eyes and breath’

    In the same region can be found the tales of the ‘Wisht’ or Wish Hounds, which may well be another version of the Yeth Hounds. Wistman's Wood on Dartmoor in southern Devon is said to be their home and it from there that they are said to scour the lands in search of prey with their preferred haunts being Abbot's Way (a road) and the valley of the Dewerstone. There is even a tale that tells of  the ghost of Sir Francis Drake driving a black hearse coach on the road between Tavistock and Plymouth at night, drawn by headless horses and accompanied by demons and a pack of headless yelping hounds.

   Sidney Paget's illustration of The Hound of the Baskervilles

    As to be expected, tales of ‘Black Dogs’ can be found across the world- and yes all the legends seem to be very , very similar . A shared memory or purely down to ideas spreading as cultures intermixed?  Something to ponder on. Saying that , if you have any thoughts on this , or local legends to share please feel free to post them up here in the comment box and ...if you're feeling kindly disposed towards this blog please share it and / or recommend it to all and any who you think may like it . 

Many thanks

D W Storer 2018/2019

Cthulhu, the Necronomicon, and other Curiosities

Cthulhu, the Necronomicon, and other Curiosities

   H P Lovecraft was an American author, mostly of what would be described as ‘pulp fiction’, who gained a small cult following during his lifetime yet, like so many other author of note, only truly became successful after his death. The American pulp magazine, Weird Tales, published his tale ‘The Call of Cthulhu’ in 1928 – the creature existed as part of the ‘Great Old Ones’ within the universe he created for his readers and looked like a hybrid of an octopus and a dragon  somehow combined into a human form.

   

   

Howard Phillips Lovecraft – 1890-1937
 

    A dark, esoteric, if not forbidden, knowledge drives the theme of the majority of Lovecraft's works - his heroes, or anti-heroes, seem to be impelled by curiosity or scientific need. The knowledge uncovered usually consists of such revelations that end up destroying them psychologically, physically, or even at times both which with so many of the characters in his books ending up dead brings us rather neatly onto the ‘Necronomicon’ .

     Lovecraft introduced the Necronomicon as a fictional grimoire and was an account of the history of the ‘Old Ones’ which contained the means for summoning them and it first appeared in his 1924 short story "The Hound" – though in the tale its origins are stated as coming from the works of the "Mad Arab", Abdul Alhazred, who had appeared as a character previously in another of Lovecraft’s works, "The Nameless City".

   After being faced with so many questions as the whether the Necronomicon, its ‘author’, or those beings it described, H P was forced to write a book about the books and even stated in a letter to Willis Conover, a jazz producer and broadcaster on the Voice of America for over forty years -

    ‘Now about the "terrible and forbidden books” — I am forced to say that most of them are purely imaginary. There never was any Abdul Alhazred or Necronomicon, for I invented these names myself. Robert Bloch devised the idea of Ludvig Prinn and his De Vermis Mysteriis, while the Book of Eibon is an invention of Clark Ashton Smith's. Robert E. Howard is responsible for Friedrich von Junzt and his Unaussprechlichen Kulten.... As for seriously-written books on dark, occult, and supernatural themes — in all truth they don’t amount to much. That is why it’s more fun to invent mythical works like the Necronomicon and Book of Eibon ‘.

‘That is not dead which can eternal lie.

And with strange aeons even death may die.’

H P Lovecraft
The Nameless City" (1921) & The Call of Cthulhu" (1928

    In his work ‘The Dunwich Horror ‘(1929) Lovecraft’s character, Wilbur Whateley, at the age of fifteen, locates a copy of the work library of Miskatonic University and finds the following passage -

 ‘Nor is it to be thought that man is either the oldest or the last of earth's masters, or that the common bulk of life and substance walks alone. The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them, they walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen. Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They had trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread. By Their smell can men sometimes know Them near, but of Their semblance can no man know, saving only in the features of those They have begotten on mankind; and of those are there many sorts, differing in likeness from man's truest eidolon to that shape without sight or substance which is Them. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons. The wind gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their consciousness. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not forest or city behold the hand that smites. Kadath in the cold waste hath known’ Them’, and what man knows Kadath? The ice desert of the South and the sunken isles of Ocean hold stones whereon ‘Their’ seal is engraven, but who hath seen the deep frozen city or the sealed tower long garlanded with seaweed and barnacles? Great Cthulhu is Their cousin, yet can he spy Them only dimly. Ia! Shub-Niggurath! As a foulness shall ye know Them. Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not; and Their habitation is even one with your guarded threshold. Yog-Sothoth is the key to the gate, whereby the spheres meet. Man rules now where They ruled once; They shall soon rule where man rules now. After summer is winter, after winter summer. They wait patient and potent, for here shall They reign again.’

    After reading that excerpt, you may be surprised to learn that Wilbur dies after being mauled by a guard dog in situ – as to why, well, you’d need to read the book to learn that. I’m not about to spoil it all for you.

   And so, now we’re reaching the end of this post, what of the ‘Curiosities’ mentioned in the title of this piece? Well, the curiosities are in fact my own – to wit, how can people base a belief or even a religion on something that they’ve read?  Now I’m all for people reading , especially if it’s a book I’ve written and, even though what I write is based on observation and personal experience, I don’t expect, or even want ( maybe when I’m older  I might feel differently - who knows ? ) people to build temples and worship me in them as appealing as the thought is . The whole point is a writer writes and hides lies in truths and truths in lies usually with the intention of hopefully entertaining you - so if they tell you something is in fact an invention, a work of fiction, then take note. On the other hand, if they tell you something is completely true and that you should ignore everything else then  maybe it's time to run like hell. I’m not sure who’s the most dangerous in those cases, the author or the reader? And that is all I’m trying to say.

D W Storer August 2018/2019

Once We Were Giants?

Once We Were Giants ? 

   Nephilim & Crystal Skulls:  As a child my interest was aroused on this subject via an unlikely source – Arthur C Clarke’s 'Mysterious Worlds'. I had seen the television programme, bought the book, but wasn’t satisfied. It seemed to me there was something not being said, and I wondered why?

   Back in the 70’s there wasn’t a lot of material available on the subject, even in the local library. And rooting through second hand book shops proved to be frustrating. Nearly forty years later, I finally came to a theory of sorts. It is just a theory, I can’t offer any proof or evidence to back this up, it’s merely a vision that comes now and again and seems to repeat itself, as if a message - one that it is often reflected in those poems and books I have written.

   The first book I came across that offered any real notions on the subject was ‘The Book Of Enoch’ and there I read of “Watchers”  ,“Nephilim” , “Wars”, and “Floods”. It struck me as a peculiar thing- a Jewish text dating from around 300BC that seemed to reflect elements of Gilgamesh, a work preceding it by some 2200 years, about a King born of Gods.

    The more I read of this, and other similar works, the more the thought came to me that these ‘legends’ if they were indeed legends - were being repeated throughout history in one form or another, and was there a reason other than evolving religions and politics? What if there was a great Truth behind them all that had been hidden beneath mistranslations and cultural differences? What if, at one time, a Higher Race had existed? Was there a time of Giants? I had to look further, for I could not shake the feeling that these ‘tales’ would have some bearing on my life.

     I had to first consider ‘Angels’ not so much in the Biblical sense, but as actual entities that were more than just a spiritual force. Were they spiritual beings that were able to take on a physical form, or perhaps already having one - living, breathing, talking, and walking amongst us. What then, if that was possible, would result if they mated with our ancestors? More to the point, what if they actually were our ancestors and humanity has regressed both mentally and physically?

    There is an old saying, “There is no new knowledge, only old knowledge rediscovered” and with that thought I wondered: if all these tales are true, why have they been forgotten and more to the point why are they so often denied? It’s a puzzle, an enigma, that has preyed upon me for years and has only been made worse by learning certain ancient ‘technologies‘ that according to conventional teachings could not have existed.

    Working ‘batteries’ made of clay, the ‘Baghdad battery’ for instance, dated possibly approx. 250 BC; statues electroplated with layers of gold measuring a thickness of mere microns. I had to ask, how was this possible? Are archaeologists and historians mistaken, or do they have something to be hidden? So many questions, they seem to multiply each time I find a new piece of information. And I will say that with the internet and the myriad of sites out there it’s a real task to decipher anything that may be useful, or real, notwithstanding the lack of time to research this subject but as Galileo said ‘All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them.’

    And so I needs must continue on this journey, groping blindly in the dark as it were to find the truth. If indeed there is one to be found.

Upon this path

This journey mine

Where echoes come

From Other minds

What hidden dreams

Are there to find?

   Are we the bastard off spring of a higher race?

(a real photo- or a hoax?  what do you think?)

   William Blake once said, “What is now proved was once only imagined.” Are we the bastard off spring of a higher race? By a peculiar instance of chance a bible passage was quoted to me by a friend on face book after I had posted a poem. It seemed coincidental, yet took on a greater meaning when I started to work on this passage, as if I were being urged on ;

    Genesis 6:4, “There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came unto the daughters of men, and they bear children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old men of renown.” The giant off spring of this union between the sons of God and the daughters of men were called the Nephilim.

    In the collective sub-consciousness of all races, within the creeds and beliefs, perhaps there are channels that can be tapped by not only psychics but also by those who can have a mind to do so- blood memories, for example, amplified by some force unknown that drives us on to seek our beginnings?

    Are all religious texts based upon real events? Altered, then, over the centuries to fit in with the political needs of the times?  Pondering this, another question arose: ‘if there was indeed a higher Race of Giants, did they evolve here or were they in fact from somewhere else?’

   Von Daniken, whose works I read during my teenage years, wrote that Alien races had visited the Earth, taught us various technologies and had been worshipped as Gods, Anunnaki, Fallen Angels, Nephilim ? And so again the puzzle became more complex. Yet, in my search, and I search in ways that may differ from the methods employed by others, I sought a vision. Which came when it, or I, was ready. 

I lay at rest, though not to sleep

And whilst at peace did vigil keep

For sight to come through other eye

When gentle as an autumn sigh

Quick as silvered thread in sky

Though I could never tell the why

What world this was,

I cannot say

Where upon white sand the sea did play

And in this night as bright as day

From waters rose Dark-winged Angel,

And dark-orbed stars joined his refrain

Joyfully, without restrain

"Ar Ya Ma Th e O”

(From The Key of The Storm - D W Storer 2010)

Available on Amazon worldwide

   

What did it mean? I have my thoughts, and leave you to your own. But I will close by saying that I wonder more and more if we are not the lesser children of greater sires, and so I am only sure of one thing - Once, we were giants

May your Gods

Whoever they may be

Walk beside you always

D W Storer 2018/2019

Reculver - A Tale From The Past

Reculver

     A tiny caravan perched near the edge of a cliff, that wobbled when the wind blew, was where I spent my first few holidays as a child in the early 70’s. There was a shingle beach, usually a lot of foul smelling seaweed, and very little else there other than one tiny shop, a stall selling pie and mash, and an incredibly small arcade with a few penny machines in it. Desolate as the place was, it had some appeal for me, and most of it centred on the ruins of the Twin Towers of Reculver Castle which held, and still does, a certain fascination for me.

     My elder sister and brother seemed to take great delight in telling me that Dracula, Frankenstein, along with various other monsters, resided there with the sole intention of eating small children who wandered too close. My mother, on the other hand, didn’t like the place at all and seemed to be more than happy to avoid it as much as possible, which was perfectly understandable considering the history of the place and the ghosts some people believe haunt the site.

   

    Reculver was an important Roman fort by the name of  Regulbium or Raculfceastre (Ceaster meaning Roman walled town), which then became the Old English Raculf, was built during the early 3^rd century AD possibly during the reign of the Emperor Severus with the intention of guarding against the marauding Saxon forces. Controlling the northern entrance to the Wantsum Channel, which was approximately 3 miles wide at the time, and cut off the Isle of Thanet from the mainland, the fort stood on a promontory at the north end of the channel where it joined the Thames estuary, albeit over the centuries the Wantsum silted up and became dry land. Even now, despite the coastal erosion it’s still an impressive site that’s visible from nearby Herne Bay and Margate even.

    When the Romans abandoned Britain in the 5^th century AD the fort fell into ruins and seems to have been left unused until 669AD when an Anglo-Saxon monastery was built upon them, and this lasted until sometime during the 10^th century whereupon it appears to have evolved into the parish church, which was dedicated to St Mary, there. The towers which make it such a rarity ( most churches only have one) were added in the 12^th century and the building survived until 1805 when it was partially demolished with much of the stonework being removed to be used on another church on higher ground at Hillborough where , due to the incessant coastal erosion , the Reculver community seems to have relocated, The twin towers however, were left standing, and were purchased by Trinity House four years later who underpinned the site to allow it in all likelihood to continue being used as a landmark to guide shipping.

   

    Canterbury Cathedral is home to two columns from Reculver which can be found in its eastern crypt. In 1852 Joseph Brigstocke Sheppard, who was to become keeper of the Cathedral’s archives, was visiting a friend’s orchard near Canterbury and quite by chance discovered several large stone drums which he recognised as those that made up columns from the old church which caused him to contact Charles Roach Smith, the author of Antiquities of Richborough, Reculver , and Lymme which led to Canon Robertson purchasing the remains of the columns and placing them within the Cathedral’s Precincts. When Sheppard located more remains on a local farm they too were recovered – the pair were then displayed in the Water Tower Garden until 1932 when, with a donation of £144 (slightly over £7000 by today’s standards) from the Friends of Canterbury Cathedral, to their present location.

     Reculver has of course, like so many of these old sites, its fair share of legends and ghosts and has been the subject of many paranormal investigations with varied results to say the least. Saturday nights can be rather busy there with the semi- professional groups that vie with both amateurs and the thrill seekers who attempt to discover its secrets – this combined with the occultists who attempt to perform their works there means that it is no easy place to work with to say the least. It’s a fact that the local radio stations and taxi firms can interfere with recording equipment which is a real hindrance to the serious investigator.

    Tales of Roman soldiers, hooded figures, spectral monks, crying children, sailors, soldiers, airmen even, abound within the realms of prurient urban myth yet, no doubt to the amazement of some, despite the tales growing longer in the retelling there are, hidden away amongst the Hall of Broken Stones (as I refer to the place in my books) some grains of truth to be discovered.

    In 1966, which was the year I was born, skeletal remains were found under the foundations of the Roman barrack block when the site was excavated - some theories claim they may have been sacrificed by the Romans to help ‘protect’ the fort , whilst others suggest they may be older and of Celtic origin . Certainly many reports can be found on the internet, and on You Tube especially, which claim to have recorded the sounds of crying children, shouts, moans, and various other phenomena . Are they real, misinterpreted or corrupt data, or even blatant fakes?  Even if you watch them you’ll still have no real feel for the place, or be any wiser as to what’s really there- to do that you’ll have to visit Reculver, and if you do you may well be in for a surprise. Hopefully it’ll be a pleasant one. 

    What now?  I could copy and paste a few tales of the abnormal activities and phantasmic fantasies that seem to be prevalent, quick and simple as it would be, but I don’t know if any of them are actually true - so I’ll supply you with one that I know is. How do I know it’s true? Because I know the people involved all too well.

     Those of you who remember them will have to cast your minds back to the 1970’s , pre decimal – when real money still existed and not all this toy-town stuff foisted on us. If you weren’t around back then you’ll have to use your imagination, and regret the fact you missed out on the last few years before the rot set in. Showing my age? Absolutely, and grinning while I do so. Why is for a future post and that’s all I’ll say on the matter. 

   To set the scene then -  it’s early evening, yet dark. Most of the light available comes flickering through the windows of caravans where people are settling down for the night. Peaceful even, the waves rolling gently over the shingle beach are accompanied by the calls of those seagulls still floating about in hope of finding scraps. It’s all part of the adventure that makes for happy memories of simpler times. Even with the Towers rearing up out of the gloom, and how they loom in the sight of the boy who, despite the tales told by his siblings of the place in an attempt to frighten him, can feel the threat of the place in a way that his family cannot.

   The sounds he can hear emanating from the place confuse him- as if there are frightened children there, and a low murmuring that he will later come to recognize as chanting. Questions asked about them are either ignored, or brushed aside as childish imagination, something he gets used to far too quickly. To fetch dinner, however, they must head on - and that brings them closer to the shadows that confuse him even more, for shadows there are, and they are not where they should be. 

    It takes minutes, yet seems far longer to the child, and as they trudge back up the slope to their caravan he notices a change in the atmosphere. Clutching his hand tightly his mother has suddenly begun to walk faster, dragging him along with some urgency. Risking a glance behind, and almost falling in the process, he can see that something appears to be following them- a hooded figure that is some way back but gaining ground.  Attempts to point this fact out are responded to with a hissed request to be quiet and hurry up, yet he knows that she has seen it too.

    On reaching their tiny sanctuary it becomes clear from the way the door is hastily pulled shut and bolted that the boy’s mother is worried. Chilly as the evening is, the caravan seems to have become colder as their meal is hurriedly eaten. A low, keening, call comes from outside- seemingly far off, yet near at the same time which lingers momentarily then fades. The rest of the night is spent quietly, for the child’s mother is clearly rattled by the experience, and when they finally go to bed sleep comes far quicker than usual.

     The following day sees them back on the beach, albeit not so far along this time lest they stray too close to the towers. No mention is made of the previous night’s events, and the boy knows better than to press the matter. They return there, for their holidays, for the next few years and he can often be found sitting sketching the place, or just sat staring at it , and not once will anyone think to ask him why.

 

   Truth is often stranger than fiction, so the saying goes, so why not find out for yourself and go there. Even of the best of days it’s noticeable that the ruins, and not just because they’re ruins, have an aura about them that is just not ‘right’-something is wrong there, very wrong. Perhaps the best thing would be for the sea to reclaim it, and free whatever is trapped there for once and for all- and that is all I’m saying for now.

                        D W Storer  2018/2019

Spring- Heeled Jack

Spring- Heeled Jack

   

   Without a doubt the myth of Spring-heeled Jack enthralled and captivated the Victorians. The records of the time show his first ‘appearance’ occurred in 1837 and the last being reported in Liverpool as late as 1904, with his legend gaining momentum people from all over Great Britain claimed to have seen him- albeit most of these were from London and accordingly, with such a furore becoming so prevalent he became the subject of so many of the ‘penny dreadfuls’ of the time,  and even now theories abound as to what, or who, Spring-heeled Jack, if he ever actually existed, was.

     Descriptions of him as varied wildly – ranging from having a ‘terrifying and frightful appearance, with diabolical physiognomy, clawed hands, and eyes that "resembled red balls of fire’, or that’ beneath his black cloak, he wore a helmet and a tight-fitting white garment like an oilskin’, whilst others claimed that he’ was tall and thin, dressed like a gentleman’. More outlandish ones included tales of him breathing out blue and white flames and having sharp metallic claws.

    An account from October 1837 gives details of a girl by the name of Mary Stevens who, after visiting her parents in Battersea, was walking to Lavender Hill, where she was working as a servant. As she passed through Clapham Common a dark figure leapt at her from a shadowy alley and grasped her tightly whilst trying to kiss her face, ripping her clothes, and touching her flesh with his claws, which she spoke of as being as "cold and clammy as those of a corpse".  Her screams brought nearby residents rushing to her aid and her assailant fled the scene leaving no trace.

   

    Following close upon the heels of Mary’s ordeal, pun intended, the next day saw another incident occur- one that was quite close to her home and which started a trend in those reports that followed in the years to come.  The ‘fiend’ jumped in front of a passing carriage, causing the coachman to crash and injure himself. Eyewitness accounts stated that he escaped by jumping over a 9 foot high wall with a burst of ‘high-pitched’ laughter, thereby earning himself the appellation given to him both by the press as well as the pubic of ‘Spring-Heeled Jack’

      Sir John Cowan, the then Lord Mayor of London revealed at a public session held in the Mansion House on 9 January 1838 that he had been sent ‘anonymous letter’ signed by "a resident of Peckham" wherein the writer claimed that some members of society’s highest ranks had wagered with one of their number to visit the villages near London in three different disguises- namely a ghost, a bear, and a devil with the purpose of causing alarm. The wager had been accepted, and the villain had succeeded in ‘depriving seven ladies of their senses, two of whom are not likely to recover, but to become burdens to their families’.

    When a member of the audience informed those attending the meeting that, "servant girls about Kensington, Hammersmith and Ealing, tell tales of this devil", the sceptics amongst them began to be swayed and when the matter was reported in The Times on 9 January, with other national papers picking up on the story over the next few days , Cowan then displayed to a crowded gathering a pile of letters from various places in and around London all claiming to be victims of , or of hearing tales of , similar "wicked pranks".

    Cowan was still sceptical about the affair which he thought to be full of falsehoods, exaggerations, and those seeking attention, saying that it was impossible "that the ghost performs the feats of a devil upon earth". However, when a trusted confidante told him of a servant girl from Forest Hill who had been scared into fits by a figure in a bear's skin he was certain that the person or persons involved in this "pantomime display" would be caught and instructed the police to search for those responsible.

     Illustrating how the trend had captured the public eye an article, first featured in The Brighton Gazette, found its way into the 14 April 1838 edition of The Times and told of how a gardener in Rosehill, Sussex, had been ‘terrified by a creature of unknown nature’- albeit it then came about that it had been described as ‘some large, four footed beast’. Despite the report bearing no real similarities to others The Times declared that ‘’Spring-heeled Jack has, it seems, found his way to Sussex’’.

   Possibly the most famous incidents involving Spring-heeled Jack were the claims of having been attacked by Lucy Scales and Jane Alsop, both of whom were teenage girls at the time-

    Jane claimed that on the night of 19 February 1838, upon answering the door of her father's house a man claiming to be a police officer told her to bring a light claiming that ‘Spring-Heeled Jack had been captured; and asked her to bring some form of lighting to help. After fetching a candle and handing it to him he immediately removed his cloak and had a ‘most hideous and frightful appearance’, with blue and white flames bursting from his mouth, eyes that were red balls of fire, whilst wearing a helmet and a suit of white oilskin. As he shredded her clothes with claws ‘of some metallic substance’ she screamed for help which led to her being rescued by one of her sisters at which point the creature fled.

   Reported as "The Late Outrage At Old Ford" by The Times the article was accompanied by details of the trial of Thomas Millbank, who, after hearing of Alsop’s ordeal, had loudly proclaimed in the Morgan's Arms that he was Spring-heeled Jack. Arrested and tried at Lambeth Street court it came about that Millbank had been wearing white overalls and a greatcoat, which he had abandoned outside the house yet, incredibly, he was acquitted because Jane Alsop insisted her attacker had breathed fire, which he admitted was not something within his powers to manage.

    A week later, Lucy Scales and her sister were returning home from Limehouse after visiting their brother. Their route took them via Green Dragon Alley, where they noticed a figure wearing a cloak loitering within the shadows, who as they drew nearer, shot blue flames towards her face, causing her to lose her sight and collapse in shock. Her brother, as they were being interviewed by the police afterwards, claimed he had heard his sisters screaming within seconds of leaving his house and, on running up Green Dragon Alley to investigate, he discovered Lucy writhing in the grip of some fit, which lasted for several hours, with her sister trying to aid her.  As she recovered once back at his home, his other sister explained what had happened. Her description of Lucy's assailant to the officers attending was of someone tall, thin, and gentlemanly, hidden within the confines of a large cloak, and carrying a small lamp much like those used by the police. By this time reports of Spring-heeled Jack cropped up almost on a regular basis in the newspapers and his notorious behaviour led to him appearing as the subject of various 'penny dreadfuls' and even plays performed in the more dire theatres that abounded at the time.

   Perversely reports of Spring-heeled Jack's appearances became rarer as either the public’s imagination, or interest in him waned, until suddenly in 1843 when a host of sightings raced across the country once more with on such report, originating from Northamptonshire, proclaimed that he had ‘the very image of the Devil himself, with horns and eyes of flame’, whereas notices of attacks on drivers of mail coaches in East Anglia became common. In Teignmouth, Devon one investigation held during the month of July 1847 actually resulted in the arrest and conviction of a Captain Finch on two charges of assault against women - he is said to disguised himself in a bullock's hide, skullcap, horns and mask which may have led to the tales of the "Devil's Footprints" which appeared in Devon in February 1855.

   

‘This here is Satan,-we might say the devil, but that ain't right, and gennel folks don't like such words. He is now commonly called 'Spring-heeled Jack;' or the 'Rossian Bear,' – that's since the war’

— Henry Mayhew, London Labour and the London Poor, 

     During the first few years of the 1870’s Spring-heeled Jack seemed to enjoy a rebirth with reports surfacing once more from all over England.  November 1872 saw the News of the World announcing that Peckham was "in a state of commotion owing to what is known as the "Peckham Ghost", a mysterious figure, quite alarming in appearance". Further, they stated that it was "Spring-heeled Jack resurfacing to continue his reign of terror that had caused such uproar in years gone by- even The Illustrated Police News followed suit including several articles detailing his latest incarnation. The months of April and May, 1873, witnessed even more sightings of the "Park Ghost" in Sheffield, which were also claimed to be Spring-heeled Jack.

    By the autumn of 1877 reports seemed to be once again dying out, although one notable incident was the reputed appearance of Spring-heeled Jack at Newport Arch, in Lincoln, Lincolnshire- this time supposedly wearing a sheep skin. Pursued by a mob him, and eventually cornered, whereupon some members of the mob opened fire on him with no visible effect.  Following the legend, it was stated that he leaped from roof to roof before disappearing from sight.

    With the last claims of his appearing occurred sometime during 1888, in Everton with a display of his famed agility on the rooftop of Saint Francis Xavier's Church in Salisbury Street and then again in 1904 when he reputedly made his final appearances in nearby William Henry Street, after which he seemed to have quietly gone into retirement.

   

     Spring-heeled Jack for all his amazing abilities, the amount of attacks attributed to him, and the number of years that his activities supposedly took place, has never actually been identified. Theories abound as to who he could have been, much in the same way as Jack the Ripper, but none offer any real evidence which begs the question- if he wasn’t a person, and more than just a collective hysteria, the what was he?

D W Storer 2018/2019