Hauntings at Ballechin House in Tayside, Scotland, came to public attention in the late 1890s, but they had been reported there for several decades before.
In 1806 Ballechin House was built by the Stuart family, and in 1834 Robert Stuart inherited the house from his father and rented it out to tenants while he was posted to India with the army. He returned in 1850 after achieving the rank of Major.
From his years in India, the Major had come to believe in reincarnation and transmigration, the ability of the soul to inhabit a nonhuman body. He vowed that when he died he would return to Ballechin in the body of his favourite black spaniel – he preferred the company of dogs to humans. Although he never married, he did enjoy the company of a young housekeeper called Sarah, who died mysteriously – it was said in his bed – at the age of 27, in 1873. Major Stuart died a few years later and was buried beside her at Logierait churchyard.
In his 1853 will the Major left Ballechin House to his nephew, John Stuart, who, fearful that the Major might be reincarnated as one of his dogs, cruelly shot all the Major’s hounds, starting with the black spaniel. This later would lead to the theory that the Major was forced to remain a disembodied spirit, haunting the house in protest. John Stuart was a devout Roman Catholic; his aunt, the Major’s sister Isabella, had become a nun and, after her death in 1880, was said to make ghostly appearances to visitors.
Almost immediately after the Major’s death in 1876 strange happenings were reported. One day in the Major’s study, Mrs Stuart noticed a strong smell of dogs in the room. She opened the window to let some air in and felt a nudge on her leg, as if an invisible dog had rubbed itself against her. This was followed a few days later by knocking sounds and the sound of gunfire and voices quarrelling. There were also sounds of someone limping around the master bedroom. Soon Ballechin House got a reputation for being haunted, and governesses and servants would flee the house in fear.
The Stuarts managed to live in the house for more than twenty years, but the children were so frightened that John Stuart was forced to build a new wing for the children to live in outside the haunted area. A Jesuit priest and family friend, Father Hayden, who often stayed at Ballechin, heard the haunted sounds, including screams, on many occasions. In January 1895, John Stuart was in the Major’s old study talking to his agent when three loud knocks were heard. This may have been an omen because a few hours later John Stuart died in London after being run over by a cab.
After John’s death the house was rented to a family for a year, but they left after a few weeks complaining of being terrorized by poltergeist activity, such as thumps and bumps, strange noises, apparitions and unseen hands moving objects.
In 1896 the Marquis of Bute, an avid ghost researcher, rented Ballechin House and asked two psychic researchers to help him carry out investigations. Almost immediately after moving in the researchers reported hearing loud clanging noises, muffled voices and gunfire.
Other guests invited to stay at the house reported supernatural activity. Several of the group conducted sessions with a Ouija board. During one session a person with the name of Ishbel came through and asked the investigators to go to a nearby pond. On doing so, the investigators clearly saw the figure of a nun, thought to be the Major’s sister, Isabella, wearing a black habit and walking through a snowy wood before suddenly vanishing.
From 1932 the house remained empty, and it was demolished in the 1960s. An account of the investigations that took place there at the turn of the century was published in 1899 with the title The Alleged Haunting of B House. The Stuart family disliked publicity so much that they asked for all names to be changed or excluded from the story. As a result the hauntings had to be reported as alleged and could never be credited as genuine.
BALTIMORE POLTERGEIST
Between 14 January and 8 February 1960, alleged poltergeist activity caused havoc in the Baltimore household of a couple called Jones, their daughter and son-in-law, and their 17-year-old grandson, Ted Pauls.
The first incident occurred on 14 January when the family sat down for dinner. A miniature pottery pitcher, one of Mrs Jones’s favourite pieces in her china collection, inexplicably exploded, showering Mr Jones with tiny pieces of china. Upset by the loss, Mrs Jones immediately went into the kitchen for a dustpan and brush, but before she reached the kitchen another pitcher shattered, followed by another and another and another, until fifteen of her precious ornaments had been shattered. The Jones family jumped away from the table in fear and panic.
In the month of misery that followed, objects flew off shelves and crashed through windows, pictures fell from the wall, plants leapt out of their holders, a sugar bowl floated up to the overhead ceiling light and dumped its contents all over the table, chairs and tables moved about and overturned, soda bottles exploded, books tumbled over and a brass incense holder was seen flying across a room. When the dining room light began to swing about violently during mealtimes the Joneses took to eating in their bedrooms, but this did not stop knives and forks vanishing from beside their plates.
Surprisingly, the only injury to occur was on the night of 17 January, when Mr Jones tried to pick up a can of corn that had fallen off a shelf and a tin of sauerkraut smacked him on the back of the head. There was an occasional day of respite, but more often than not the family spent their time running from room to room to tidy up and repair the damage. Then suddenly, on 9 February the incidents stopped as mysteriously as they had begun.
Not surprisingly, word spread during the month of terror, and reporters and investigators were regular visitors to the house. Several theories were put forward. Some thought Ted was playing tricks on his family, but this was denied by his parents. Others suggested radio signals, sound waves and earth tremors, but no proof was found. The police could find no evidence of explosives. A local plumber suggested that the hot air furnace might be the culprit. He urged the family to equalize pressure by opening the dining room windows. The Joneses followed his instructions, and the incidents stopped, causing the family to credit the plumber with solving the mystery.
Before the phenomena ceased, however, the respected psychoanalyst and researcher of paranormal phenomena Nandor Fodor suggested that poltergeists were not ‘ghosts’ but were bundles of ‘projected repressions’ that quickly wore themselves out.
Fodor theorized that so-called poltergeist activity was usually associated with a teenaged member of the family. When he investigated the case, he concentrated on Ted Pauls, the 17-year-old grandson. According to Fodor, Ted was a shy but talented and intelligent boy who was unconsciously using his mental power to create the disturbances. Fodor believed that the human body and mind could release energy ‘similar to atomic bombardments’, and could project this force into objects such as soda bottles, which would then burst from within.
Fodor thought that Ted felt misunderstood and longed to be esteemed for his writing talent. He theorized that Ted was unconsciously venting his frustrations by projecting them into aggressive poltergeist activity. Fodor explained this to Ted and suggested that if a way could be found to help him feel appreciated and valued as a person, he would have no need to express himself in such a destructive way. Fodor then took a risk by announcing that Ted was a gifted writer and that if his talent could be recognized the poltergeist activity would stop. He suggested that Ted should write his own account of what had happened, and, as expected, this had a therapeutic effect on Ted. His family gave Ted a newfound respect, and his self-esteem was boosted. Although a few more incidents happened (the psychological working-out process, as Fodor explained), they gradually stopped.
The Joneses, however, remained convinced that the plumber had solved the mystery.
BANSHEE
In the words of the Irish playwright and poet, and expert in Irish folklore, William Butler Yeats:
The banshee (from ban [bean], a woman, and shee [sidhe, a fairie]) is an attendant fairy that follows the old families, and none but them, and wails before a death. Many have seen her as she goes wailing and clapping her hands. The keen (caoine), the funeral cry of the peasantry, is said to be an imitation of her cry. When more than one banshee is present, and they wail and sing in chorus, it is for the death of some holy or great one. An omen that sometimes accompanies the banshee is the coach-a-bower (cóiste-bodhar) – an immense black coach, mounted by a coffin, and drawn by headless horses driven by a Dullahan. It will go rumbling to your door, and if you open it…a basin of blood will be thrown in your face. These headless phantoms are found elsewhere than in Ireland. In 1807 two of the sentries stationed outside St. James’s Park died of fright. A headless woman, the upper part of her body naked, used to pass at midnight and scale the railings. After a time the sentries were stationed no longer at the haunted spot. In Norway the heads of corpses were cut off to make their ghosts feeble. Thus came into existence the Dullahans, perhaps; unless, indeed, they are descended from that Irish giant who swam across the Channel with his head in his teeth. (From A Treasury of Irish Myth, Legend, and Folklore, ed. W B Yeats.)
In Irish and Scottish folklore the banshee is believed to be a death omen who attaches herself to families, usually those whose surnames begin with Mac. Thought to be the spirit of a young woman who died in childbirth, she strikes terror into the hearts of those who encounter her as she only manifests when there is to be a death in the family.
There are variations in the way she appears. According to Irish lore the banshee is known as Bean Si and is a beautiful young woman with long, flowing hair, wearing a grey cloak over a white, red or green dress. Her eyes are always red and sore from crying. In both Scottish and Irish lore she is also known as Bean Nighe or ‘little washer by the ford’. The Bean Nighe is thought to signal an imminent death by washing bloodstained clothes in a stream but, unlike the Bean Si, who is beautiful, the Bean Nighe is evil and ugly, with just one nostril, buck teeth, pendulous breasts and red webbed feet.
A few banshee stories entered into American folklore with the arrival of immigrants. One of them comes from the American South, where a crying banshee with long flowing yellow hair is thought to haunt the Tar River in Edgecomb County, North Carolina.
BATTLE ABBEY
Battle Abbey was constructed by William the Conqueror on the site of his triumph over King Harold at the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Legend has it that a mysterious fountain of blood appears after rain on the ground, representing the Christian blood that was spilled there, although sceptics argue that the presence of iron in the soil accounts for reddish puddles of water.
A phantom is also thought to haunt Battle Abbey. Some believe it to be the Duchess of Cleveland, who lived at the abbey for a time. Others believe it to be the ghost of a monk who cursed Sir Anthony Brown for taking church property, after Sir Anthony was given Battle Abbey by Henry VIII in 1538. In 1932, two men holding a vigil in the crypt reported hearing strange noises in the room above, even though it was paved with asphalt, and a man’s voice singing ‘Gloria in excelsis’.
BATTLEFIELD HAUNTINGS
Places identified with violence, trauma and intense emotion are typically thought to be subject to hauntings. There are few places more violent and traumatic than battlefields, and it isn’t surprising that many battlefield locations have hauntings associated with them. It is thought that most battlefield hauntings are residual hauntings, in which fragments of the battle are imprinted upon the psychic space of a place and picked up by sensitive individuals. Other hauntings are from spirits who can’t find peace due to the violent and abrupt nature of their deaths. Those who specialize in spirit releasement try to find ways to help these confused and traumatized souls move on. Some believe retrocognition is also an element in battlefield hauntings. Re-enactors, people who recreate battle scenes in history, often report hauntings during their recreations.
In the USA there are numerous haunted battlefields from the American Civil War (1861–1865) and other violent struggles in American history. For example, Antietam and the Old Baylor’s Massacre site in River Vale, New Jersey, where members of the local militia (known as Baylor’s Dragoons) were brutally slaughtered by German Hessians in 1778, abound with reports of hauntings and strange happenings. In the UK both medieval warrior phantoms and ghostly soldiers from the English Civil War have been reported, and numerous battlefields from the world wars have ghost stories linked to them.
One of the most well-known cases in World War I actually occurred in the midst of the conflict itself. The so-called Angels of Mons were thought to have saved retreating French and British soldiers during the battle of Mons, Belgium. According to reports of survivors, the retreating soldiers saw phantom figures on horseback preventing the Germans from slaughtering them all, but sceptics argue that they may have had visions due to intense stress, fear and pain. In World War II, one-seventh of Britain’s casualties came from losses due to bombing raids, and not surprisingly countless hauntings and phantom sounds of aeroplanes and sirens have been reported where bomber pilots made their runs.
Paranormal investigators who believe that hauntings can be caused by the consciousness of the living often use battlefield hauntings to support their case. They argue that the anguish war causes imprints itself on a nation’s collective memory, and that phantoms are a way of keeping the memory of such a tragic and vast loss of life alive.
BEALINGS HOUSE BELL RINGER
Between February and March 1834, Bealings House, a Georgian house at Great Bealings, Suffolk was the scene of mysterious bell ringing, where the pulley bells in various rooms used to summon servants began to jingle without anyone pulling them. Major Edward Moore, a retired officer from the Indian Army, the owner of the house at the time, was fascinated and recorded the phenomena later; thanks to him we have a day-by-day record of what happened.
On Sunday, 2 February 1834, Major Moore came home from church and was told that between 2 and 5 pm the dining room bell had been rung. The following day the same bell rang three times, the last time being just before five o’clock in the evening, and was heard for the first time by Major Moore personally. The next day the Major was out, and when he returned he was told the same thing had happened. There were a total of nine bells in the kitchen, and the Major discovered that the right-hand five bells, connected with the dining room, drawing room, a first-floor bedroom and two rooms in the attic, were the ones doing most of the ringing.
On 5 February at 11 am the bells were heard ringing again while the Major was in the breakfast room with his son and grandson. Immediately he went to the kitchen and saw the same five bells ringing. A few minutes later they started to ring again; one of the bells rang so violently that it almost touched the ceiling.
From that time onwards the bells rang many times, and the Major and his servants became convinced that no living person was responsible, as they always seemed to ring when there was no one in the rooms concerned. During the time that the bells were ringing, Major Moore was careful to ensure that this wasn’t the work of a prankster. On numerous occasions the bells rang when all the members of the household were in the kitchen and the rest of the house was empty.
The phenomena lasted until 27 March when the ringing stopped as mysteriously as it had started. Then, in July 1836, the bells started ringing again. This time a bell-hanger was sent for. He examined all the wires but could not find any rational explanation. After about an hour the ringing stopped and was never heard again, except when the bells were being used by a member of the family.
The mystery was never solved, and Moore and his family concluded that paranormal activity must have occurred. Despite the most vigorous investigation, there has never been any explanation for the mysterious bell ringing at Bealings House.
BEANS
Beans have a long tradition of association with ghosts and the dead. American Indian traditions include elaborate rituals and dances involving beans. Ancient Greeks believed beans were associated with the souls of the dead, and the ancient Romans considered beans to be sacred and used them in rituals connected with the dead. They threw beans behind their backs as food offerings for ghosts, and they also spat beans at ghosts as a protection against them.
The connection of the bean to the realm of ghosts seems to be that it grows in a spiral and that its white flowers are symbolic of the purity of the bleached bones of death. Because breath is the evidence of life, as bizarre as it may seem to us today, the eating of beans and the flatulence it causes were thought by ancient Romans to be proof that the living souls of the dead resided inside the lowly bean.
BELL WITCH
The Bell Witch is one of the most unsavoury poltergeist cases on record, even though it has since been described as perhaps the ‘greatest American ghost story’. According to legend, it caused the death of a man.
The haunting took place in Robertson, Tennessee, in 1817 and intrigued many people, including future US President General Andrew Jackson. There are several versions of the story so it is hard to know what is fact and what is fiction, but the version generally relied upon is that based on the diary of Richard William Bell, one of the Bells’ sons.
John and Lucy Bell lived with their nine children on a farm. The phenomena started with noises and scraping and progressed to clothes being pulled off and furniture and stones being thrown about. Two of the children, Elizabeth and Richard, had their hair pulled one night, and Elizabeth was slapped and punched and pinched. Under investigation by the family and a neighbour, James Johnson, the poltergeist stepped up its activity, tormenting the family, especially Elizabeth, even more. Elizabeth was sent to stay with a neighbour, and the disturbances went with her, indicating that she was the focus of the activity.
The strange events continued over the next few years. Later activity included strange lights outside the house, stones thrown at Elizabeth’s brothers and sisters and visitors receiving slaps similar to Elizabeth’s. The entity also began to speak using foul language. According to reports a voice would appear from nowhere and with no identifiable source. The voice claimed to be various different people but eventually settled on the name of Kate Bates, a woman who had been dissatisfied with business dealings with the Bells. From then on the voice was called Kate.
Johnson advised forming a committee to investigate, and with that the Bell family became the object of much curiosity: General Jackson even paid a visit with a ‘witch layer’, a professional exorcist. According to legend, just outside Bell Lane their carriage got stuck. Kate’s voice could be heard promising to appear that night, and the carriage became unstuck. Later in the evening the witch layer tried to shoot Kate with a silver bullet but was slapped and chased out of the house.
