My father was the head of a celebrated firm of
church restorers and decorators about sixty years ago. He took a keen interest
in his work, and made an especaal study of any old legends or family histories
that came under his observation. He was necessarily very well read and thoroughly
well posted in all questions of folklore and medieval legend. As he kept a
careful record of every case he investigated the manuscripts he left at his
death have a special interest. From amongst them I have selected the following,
as being a particularly weird and extraordinary experience. In presenting it to
the public I feel it is superfluous to apologize for its supernatural
character.
MY FATHER'S DIARY
1841 .--June 17th. Received a commission from my old friend Peter
Grant to enlarge and restore the chancel of his church at Hagarstone, in the wilds
of the West Country.
July 5th. Went down to Hagarstone with my head man, Somers. A very
long and tiring journey.
July 7th. Got the work well started. Be old church is one of special interest
to the antiquarian, and I shall endeavour while restoring it to alter the
existing arrangements as little as possible. One large tomb, however, must be
moved bodily ten feet at least to the southward. Curiously enough, there is a
somewhat forbidding inscription upon it in Latin, and I am sorry that this
particular tomb should have to be moved. It stands amongst the graves of the
Kenyons, an old family which has been extinct in these parts for centuries. The
inscriptaon on it runs thus:
SARAH.
1630.
FOR THE SAKE OF THE DEAD AND THE WELFARE
OF THE LIVING, LET THIS SEPULCHRE REMAIN
UNTOUCHED AND ITS OCCUPANT UNDISTURBED TILL
THE COMING OF CHRIST.
IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER, THE SON, AND
THE HOLY GHOST.
July 8th. Took counsel with Grant concerning the 'Sarah Tomb'. We are
both very loth to disturb it, but the ground has sunk so beneath it that the safety
of the church is in danger; thus we have no choice. However, the work shall be
done as reverently as possible under our own direction.
Grant says there
is a legend in the neighbourhood that it is the tomb of the last of the
Kenyons, the evil Countess Sarah, who was murdered in 1630. She lived quite
alone in the old castle, whose ruins still stand three miles from here on the
road to Bristol. Her reputation was an evil one even for those days. She was a
witch or were-woman, the only companion of her solitude being a familiar in the
shape of a huge Asiatic wolf. This creature was reputed to seize upon children,
or failing these, sheep and other small animals, and convey them to the castle,
where the Countess used to suck their blood. It was popularly supposed that she
could never be killed. This, however, proved a fallacy, since she was strangled
one day by a mad peasant woman who had lost two children, she declaring that
they had both been seized and carried off by the Countess's familiar. This is a
very interesting story, since it points to a local superstition very similar to
that of the Vampire, existing in Slavonic and Hungarian Europe.
The tomb is built
of black marble, surmounted by an enormous slab of the same material. On the
slab is a magnificent group of figures. A young and handsome woman reclines
upon a couch; round her neck is a piece of rope, the end of which she holds in
her hand. At her side is a gigantic dog with bared fangs and lolling tongue.
The face of the reclining figure is a cruel one: the corners of the mouth are
curiously lifted, showing the sharp points of long canine or dog teeth. The
whole group, though magnificently executed, leaves a most unpleasant sensation.
If we move the
tomb it will have to be done in two pieces, the covering slab first and then
the tomb proper. We have decided to remove the covering slab tomorrow.
July 9th. 6 p.m. A very strange day.
By noon
everything was ready for lifting off the covering stone, and after the men's
dinner we started the jacks and pulleys. The slab lifted easily enough, though
if fitted closely into its seat and was further secured by some sort of mortar
or putty, which must have kept the interior perfectly air-tight.
None of us were
prepared for the horrible rush of foul, mouldy air that escaped as the cover
lifted clear of its seating. And the contents that gradually came into view
were more startling still. There lay the fully dressed body of a woman, wizened
and shrunk and ghastly pale as if from starvation. Round her neck was a loose
cord, and, judging by the scars still visible, the story of death of
strangulation was true enough.
The most horrible
part, however, was the extraordinary freshness of the body. Except for the
appearance of starvation, life might have been only just extinct. The flesh was
soft and white, the eyes were wide open and seemed to stare at us with a
fearful understanding in them. The body itself lay on mould, without any
pretence to coffin or shell.
For several
moments we gazed with horrible curiosity, and then it became too much for my
workmen, who implored us to replace the covering slab. That, of course, we
would not do; but I set the carpenters to work at once to make a temporary
cover while we moved the tomb to its new position. This is a long job, and will
take two or three days at least.
July 9th. Just at sunset we were startled by the howling of,
seemingly, every dog in the village. It lasted for ten minutes or a quarter of
an hour, and then ceased as suddenly as it began. This, and a curious mist that
has risen round the church, makes me feel rather anxious about the 'Sarah
Tomb'. According to the best-established traditions of the Vampire-haunted
countries, the disturbance of dogs or wolves at sunset is supposed to indicate
the presence of one of these fiends, and local fog is always considered to be a
certain sign. The Vampire has the power of producing it for the purpose of
concealing its movements near its hiding-place at any time.
I dare not
mention or even hint my fears to the Rector, for he is, not unnaturally
perhaps, a rank disbeliever in many things that I know, from experience, are
not only possible but even probable. I must work this out alone at first, and
get his aid without his knowing in what direction he is helping me. I shall now
watch till midnight at least.
10.15 p.m. As I feared and half expected. Just before ten there was another
outburst of the hideous howling. It was commenced most distinctly by a
particularly horrible and blood-curdling wail from the vicinity of the
churchyard. The chorus lasted only a few minutes, however, and at the end of it
I saw a large dark shape, like a huge dog, emerge from the fog and lope away at
a rapid canter towards the open country. Assuming this to be what I fear, I
shall see it return soon atter midnight.
12.30 p.m. I was right. Almost as midnight struck I saw the beast returning.
It stopped at the spot where the fog seemed to commence, and lifting its head,
gave tongue to that partacularly horrible long-drawn wail that I had noticed as
preceding the outburst earlier in the evening.
Tomorrow I shall
tell the Rector what I have seen; and if, as I expect, we hear of some
neighbouring sheepfold having been raided, I shall get him to watch with me for
this nocturnal marauder. I shall also examine the 'Sarah Tomb' for something
which he may notice without any previous hint from me.
July 10th. I found the workmen this morning much disturbed in mind
about the howling of the dogs. 'We doan't like it, zur,' one of them said to me--'we
doan't like it; there was summat abroad last night that was unholy.' Bey were
still more uncomfortable when the news came round that a large dog had made a
raid upon a flock of sheep, scattering them far and wide, and leaving three of
them dead with torn throats in the field.
When I told the
Rector of what I had seen and what was being said in the village, he
immediately decided that we must try and catch or at least identify the beast I
had seen. 'Of course,' said he, 'it is some dog lately imported into the
neighbourhood, for I know of nothing about here nearly as large as the animal
you describe, though its size may be due to the deceptive moonlight.'
This afternoon I
asked the Rector, as a favour, to assist me in lifting the temporary cover that
was on the tomb, giving as an excuse the reason that I wished to obtain a
portion of the curious mortar with which it had been sealed. After a slight
demur he consented, and we raised the lid. If the sight that met our eyes gave
me a shock, at least it appalled Grant.
'Great God!' he
exclaimed; 'the woman is alive!'
And so it seemed
for a moment. The corpse had lost much of its starved appearance and looked
hideously fresh and alive. It was still wrinkled and shrunken, but the lips
were firm, and of the rich red hue of health. The eyes, if possible, were more
appalling than ever, though fixed and staring. At one corner of the mouth I
thought I noticed a slight dark-coloured froth, but I said nothing about it
then.
'Take your piece
of mortar, Harry,' gasped Grant, 'and let us shut the tomb again. God help me!
Parson though I am, such dead faces frighten mc!'
Nor was I sorry
to hide that terrible face again; but I got my bit of mortar, and I have
advanced a step towards the solution of the mystery. This afternoon the tomb
was moved several feet towards its new position, but it will be two or three
days yet before we shall be ready to replace the slab.
10.15 p.m. Again the same howling at sunset, the same fog enveloping
the church, and at ten o'clock the same great beast slipping silently out into
the open country. I must get the Rector's help and watch for its return. But
precautions we must take, for if things are as I believe, we take our lives in
our hands when we venture Out into the night to waylay the--Vampire. Why not
admit it at once? For that the beast I have seen as the Vampire of that evil
thing in the tomb I can have no reasonable doubt.
Not yet come to
its full strength, thank Heaven! after the starvation of nearly two centuries,
for at present it can only maraud as wolf
apparently. But, in a day or two, when full power returns, that
dreadful woman an new strength and beauty will be able to leave her refuse'
Then it would not be sheep merely that would satisfy her disgusting lust for blood,
but victims that would yield their life-blood without a murmur to her caressing
touch--victims that, dying of her foul embrace, themselves must become Vampires
in their turn to prey on others.
Mercifully my
knowledge gives me a safeguard; for that little piece of mortar that I rescued
today from the tomb contains a portion of the Sacred Host, and who holds it,
humbly and firmly believing in its virtue, may pass safely through such an
ordeal as I intend to submit myself and the Rector to tonight.
12.30 p.m. Our adventure is over for the present, and we are back
safe.
After writing the
last entry recorded above, I went off to find Grant and tell him that the
marauder was out on the prowl again. 'But, Grant,' I said, 'before we start out
tonight I must insist that you will let me prosecute this affair in my own way;
you must promise to put yourself completely under my orders, without asking any
questions as to the why and wherefore.'
After a little
demur, and some excusable chaff on his part at the serious view I was taking of
what he called a 'dog hunt', he gave me his promise. I then told him that we
were to watch tonight and try and track the mysterious beast, but not to
interfere with it in any way. I think, in spite of his jests, that I impressed
him with the fact that there might be, after all, good reason for my precautions.
It was just after
eleven when we stepped out into the still night.
Our first move
was to try and penetrate the dense fog round the church, but there was
something so chilly about it, and a faant smell so disgustingly rank and
loathsome, that neither our nerves nor our stomachs were proof against it.
Instead, we stationed ourselves in the dark shadow of a yew tree that commanded
a good view of the wicket entrance to the churchyard.
At midnight the
howling of the dogs began again, and in a few minutes we saw a large grey
shape, with green eyes shinang like lamps, shamble swiftly down the path
towards us.
The Rector
started forward, but I laid a firm hand upon his arm and whispered a warning
'Remember!' Then we both stood very still and watched as the great beast
cantered swiftly by. It was real enough, for we could hear the clicking of its
nails on the stone flags. It passed within a few yards of us, and seemed to be
nothing more nor less than a great grey wolf, thin and gaunt, with bristling hair
and dripping jaws. It stopped where the mist commenced, and turned round. It
was truly a horrible sight, and made one's blood run cold. The eyes burnt like
fires, the upper lip was snarling and raised, showing the great canine teeth,
while round the mouth clung and dripped a dark-coloured froth.
It raised its
head and gave tongue to its long wailing howl, which was answered from afar by
the village dogs. After standing for a few moments it turned and disappeared
into the thickest part of the fog.
Very shortly
afterwards the atmosphere began to clear, and within ten minutes the mist was
all gone, the dogs in the village were silent, and the night seemed to reassume
its normal aspect. We examined the spot where the beast had been standing and
found, plainly enough upon the stone flags, dark spots of froth and saliva.
'Well, Rector,' I
said, 'will you admit now, in view of the things you have seen today, in
consideration of the legend, the woman in the tomb, the fog, the howling dogs,
and, last but not least, the mysterious beast you have seen so close, that
there is something not quite normal in it all? Will you put yourself
unreservedly in my hands and help me, whatever I may do, to first make
assurance doubly sure, and finally take the necessary steps for putting an end
to this horror of the night?' I saw that the uncanny influence of the night was
strong upon him, and wished to impress it as much as possible.
'Needs must,' he
replied, 'when the Devil drives: and in the face of what I have seen I must
believe that some unholy forces are at work. Yet, how can they work in the
sacred precincts of a church? Shall we not call rather upon Heaven to assist us
in our need.'
'Grant,' I said
solemnly, 'that we must do, each in his own way. God helps those who help
themselves, and by His help and the light of my knowledge we must fight this
battle for Him and the poor lost soul within.'
We then returned
to the rectory and to our rooms, though I have sat up to write this account
while the scene is fresh in my mind.
July 11th. Found the workmen again very much disturbed in their minds,
and full of a strange dog that had been seen during the night by several people,
who had hunted it. Farmer Stotman, who had been watching his sheep (the same
flock that had been raided the night before), had surprised it over a fresh
carcass and tried to drive it off, but its size and fierceness so alarmed him
that he had beaten a hasty retreat for a gun. When he returned the animal was
gone, though he found that three more sheep from his flock were dead and torn.
The 'Sarah Tomb'
was moved today to its new position; but it was a long, heavy business, and
there was not time to replace the covering slab. For this I was glad, as in the
prosaic light of day the Rector almost disbelieves the events of the night, and
is prepared to think everything to have been magnified and distorted by our
imagination.
As, however, I
could not possibly proceed with my war of extermination against this foul thing
without assistance, and as there is nobody else I can rely upon, I appealed to
him for one more night--to convince him that it was no delusion, but a ghastly,
horrible truth, which must be fought and conquered for our own sakes, as well
as that of all those living in the neighbourhood.
'Put yourself in
my hands, Rector,' I said, 'for tonight at least. Let us take those precautions
which my study of the subject tells me arc the right ones. Tonight you and I
must watch in the church; and I feel assured that tomorrow you will be as
convinced as I am, and be equally prepared to take those awful steps which I
know to be proper, and I must warn you that we shall find a more startling
change in the body lying there than you noticed yesterday.'
My words came
true; for on raising the wooden cover once more the rank stench of a
slaughterhouse arose, making us feel positively sick. There lay the Vampire,
but how changed from the starved and shrunken corpse we saw two days ago for
the first time! The wrinkles had almost disappeared, the flesh was firm and
full, the crimson lips grinned horribly over the long pointed teeth, and a
distinct smear of blood had trickled down one corner of the mouth. We set our
teeth, however, and hardened our hearts. Then we replaced the cover and put
what we had collected into a safe place in the vestry. Yet even now Grant could
not believe that there was any real or pressing danger concealed in that awful
tomb, as he raised strenuous objections to am apparent desecration of the body
without further proof. This he shall have tonight. God grant that I am not taking
too much on myself. If there is any truth in old legends it would be easy
enough to destroy the Vampire now; but Grant will not have it.
I hope for the
very best of this night's work, but the danger in waiting is very great.
6 p.m. I have prepared everything: the sharp knives, the pointed
stake, fresh garlic, and the wild dog-roses. All these I have taken and
concealed in the vestry, where we can get at them when our solemn vigil commences.
If either or both
of us die with our fearful task undone, lei those reading my record see that
this is done. I lay it upon them as a solemn obligation. 'That the Vampire be
pierced through the heart with the stake, then let the Burial Service be read
over the poor clay at last released from its doom. Thus shall the Vampire cease
to be, and a lost soul rest.'
July 12th. All is over. After the most terrible night of watching and horror
one Vampire at least will trouble the world no more. But how thankful should we
be to a merciful Providence that that awful tomb was not disturbed by anyone
not having the knowledge necessary to deal with its dreadful occupant! I write
this with no feelings of self-complacency, but simply with a great gratitude
for the years of study I have been able to devote to this special subject.
And now to my
tale.
Just before
sunset last night the Rector and I locked ourselves into the church, and took
up our position in the pulpit. It was one of those pulpits, to be found in some
churches, which is entered from the vestry, the preacher appearing at a good
height through an arched opening in the wall. This gave us a sense of security
(which we felt we needed), a good view of the interior, and direct access to
the implements which I had concealed in the vestry.
The sun set and
the twilight gradually deepened and faded. There was, so far, no sign of the
usual fog, nor any howling of the dogs. At nine o'clock the moon rose, and her
pale light gradually flooded the aisles, and still no sign of any kind from the
'Sarah Tomb'. The Rector had asked me several times what he might expect, but I
was determined that no words or thought of mine should influence him, and that
he should be convinced by his own senses alone.
By half-past ten
we were both getting very tired, and I began to think that perhaps after all we
should see nothing that night. However, soon after eleven we observed a light
mist rising from the 'Sarah Tomb'. It seemed to scintillate and sparkle as it
rose, and curled in a sort of pillar or spiral.
I said nothing,
but I heard the Rector give a sort of gasp as he clutched my arm feverishly.
'Great Heaven!' he whispered, 'it is taking shape.'
And, true enough,
in a very few moments we saw standing erect by the tomb the ghastly figure of
the Countess Sarah!
She looked thin
and haggard still, and her face was deadly white; but the crimson lips looked
like a hideous gash in the pale cheeks, and her eyes glared like red coals in
the gloom of the church.
It was a fearful
thing to watch as she stepped unsteadily down the aisle, staggering a little as
if from weakness and exhaustion. This was perhaps natural, as her body must
have suffered much physically from her long incarcerataon, in spite of the
unholy forces which kept it fresh and well.
We watched her to
the door, and wondered what would happen; but it appeared to present no difficulty,
for she melted through it and and disappeared.
'Now, Grant,' I
said, 'do you believe?'
'Yes,' he
replied, 'I must. Everything is in your hands, and I will obey your commands to
the letter, if you can only instruct me how to rid my poor people of this
unnameable terror.'
'By God's help I
will,' said I; 'but you shall be vet more convinced first, for we have a
terrible work to do, and much to answer for in the future, before we leave the
church again this morning. And now to work, for in its present weak state the
Vampire will not wander far, but may return at any time, and must not find us
unprepared.'
We stepped down
from the pulpit and, taking dog-roses and garlic from the vestry, proceeded to
the tomb. I arrived first and, throwing off the wooden cover, cried, 'Look! it
is empty!' There was nothing there! Nothing except the impress of the body in
the loose damp mould!
I took the
flowers and laid them in a circle round the tomb, for legend teaches us that
Vampires will not pass over these particular blossoms if they can avoid it.
Then, eight or
ten feet away, I made a circle on the stone pavement. large enough for the
Rector and myself to stand in, and within the circle I placed the implements
that I had brought into the church with me.
'Now,' I said,
'from this circle, which nothing unholy can step across, you shall see the
Vampire face to face, and see her afraid to cross that other circle of garlic
and dog-roses to regain her unholy refuge. But on no account step beyond the
holy place you stand in, for the Vampire has a fearful strength not her own,
and, like a snake, can draw her victim willingly to his own destruction.'
Now so far my
work was done, and, calling the Rector, we stepped into the Holy Circle to
await the Vampire's return.
Nor was this long
delayed. Presently a damp, cold odour seemed to pervade the church, which made
our hair bristle and flesh to creep. And then down the aisle with noiseless
feet came That whach we watched for.
I heard the
Rector mutter a prayer, and I held him tightly by the arm, for he was shivering
violently.
Long before we
could distinguish the features we saw the glowing eyes and the crimson sensual
mouth. She went straight to her tomb, but stopped short when she encountered my
flowers. She walked right round the tomb seeking a place to enter, and as she
walked she saw us. A spasm of diabolical hate and fury passed over her face;
but it quickly vanished, and a smile of love, more devilish still, took its
place. She stretched out her arms towards us. Ben we saw that round her mouth gathered
a bloody froth, and from under her lips long pointed teeth gleamed and champed.
She spoke: a soft
soothing voice, a voice that carried a spell with it, and affected us both
strangely, particularly the Rector. I wished to test as far as possible,
without endangering our lives, the Vampire's power.
Her voice had a
soporific effect, which I resisted easily enough, but which seemed to throw the
Rector into a sort of trance. More than this: it seemed to compel him to her in
spite of his efforts to resist.
'Come!' she
said--'come! I give sleep and peace--sleep and peace—sleep and peace.'
She advanced a
little towards us; but not far, for I noted that the Sacred Circle seemed to
keep her back like an iron hand.
My companion
seemed to become demoralized and spellbound. He tried to step forward and,
finding me detain him, whispered, 'Harry, let go! I must go! She is calling me!
I must! I must! Oh, help me! help me!' And he began to struggle.
It was time to
finish.
'Grant!' I cried,
in a loud, firm voice, 'in the name of all that you hold sacred, have done and
the man!' He shuddered violently and gasped, 'Where am I?' Ben he remembered,
and clung to me convulsively for a moment.
At this a look of
damnable hate changed the smiling face before us, and with a sort of shriek she
staggered back.
'Back!' I cried:
'back to your unholy tomb! No longer shall you molest the suffering world! Your
end is near.'
It was fear that
now showed itself in her beautiful face (for it was beautiful in spite of its
horror) as she shrank back, hack and over the circlet of flowers, shivering as
she did so. At last, with a low mournful cry, she appeared to melt hack again
into her tomb.
As she did so the
first gleams of the rising sun lit up the world, and I knew all danger was over
for the day.
Taking Grant by
the arm, I drew him with me out of the circle and led him to the tomb. There
lay the Vampire once more, still in her living death as we had a moment before
seen her in her devilish life. But in the eyes remained that awful expression
of hate, and cringing, appalling fear.
Grant was pulling
himself together.
'Now,' I said,
'will you dare the last terrible act and rid the world for ever of this
horror?'
'By God!' he said
solemnly, 'I will. Tell me what to do.'
'Help me to lift
her out of her tomb. She can harm us no more,' I replied.
With averted
faces we set to our terrible task, and laid her out upon the flags.
'Now,' I said,
'read the Burial Service over the poor body, and then let us give it its
release from this living hell that holds it.' Reverently the Rector read the
beautiful words, and reverently I made the necessary responses. When it was
over I took the stake and, without giving myself time to think, plunged it with
all my strength through the heart.
As though really
alive, the body for a moment writhed and kicked convulsively, and an awful
heart-rending shriek woke the silent church; then all was still.
Then we lifted
the poor body back; and, thank God! the consolation that legend tells is never
denied to those who have to do such awful work as ours came at last. Over the
face stole a great and solemn peace; the lips lost their crimson hue, the
prominent sharp teeth sank back into the mouth, and for a moment we saw before
us the calm, pale face of a most beautiful woman, who smiled as she slept. A
few minutes more, and she faded away to dust before our eyes as we watched. We
set to work and cleaned up every trace of our work, and then departed for the
rectory. Most thankful were we to step out of the church, with its horrible associations,
into the rosy warmth of the summer morning.
With the above
end the notes in my father's diary, though a few days later this further entry
occurs:
July 15th. Since the 12th everything has been quiet and as usual. We replaced
and sealed up the 'Sarah Tomb' this morning. The workmen were surprised to find
the body had disappeared, but took it to be the natural result of exposing it
to the air.
One odd thing
came to my ears today. It appears that the child of one of the villagers
strayed from home the night of the 11th inst., and was found asleep in a
coppice near the church, very pale and quite exhausted. There were two small
marks on her throat, which have since disappeared.
What does this
mean? I have, however, kept it to myself, as, now that the Vampire is no more,
no further danger either to that child or any other is to be apprehended. It is
only those who die of the Vampire's embrace that become Vampires at death in
their turn.
THE END
