Book Clipping of the Day

Accounts of people who claim to have solved a murder via dreams are surprisingly common. This relatively little-known example was related in Clarence S. Day's "Remarkable Apparitions and Ghost Stories." (1848)

Mr. William Smythies, curate of St. Giles's Cripplegate, London, in the year 1698, published an account of the robbery and murder of John Stockden, victualler, in Grub street, within the said parish, and of the discovery of the murderers by several dreams of Elizabeth, the wife of Thomas Greenwood, a neighbor to the said Stockden. Here is the substance of the account:—

Mr. Smythies, first telling us that none can doubt but great discoveries have been made by dreams, says: Mr. Stockden was robbed and murdered by three men, in his own house, on the 23d day of December, 1695, about midnight. A little after the murder, there came a woman into the street, and said she believed one Maynard (a very stout and powerful man) to be one of the murderers, because she was informed he was full of money, both silver and gold; upon which there was a warrant against him, but he could not be found. 

Soon after this Stockden appeared to Elizabeth Greenwood, in a dream, and showed her a house in Thames street, near the George, and told her that one of the murderers was there: she went the next morning, and took one Mary Buggas, an honest woman, who lived near her, to go with her to the place to which her dream directed, and asking for Maynard, was informed that he lodged there, but was gone abroad. 

After that Stockden soon appeared again to Mrs. Greenwood, and then representing Maynard's face with a flat mole on the side of his nose (whom she had never seen), signified to her that a wire-drawer must take him, and that he should be carried to Newgate in a coach. Upon inquiry, they found out one of that trade, who was his great intimate, and who, for a reward of ten pounds, promised him on his taking, undertook it, and effected it. He sent to Maynard to meet him, upon extraordinary business, at a public house, near Hockley-in-the-Hole, where, after plying him with liquor, both parties went to bed ; after which a constable came forward, armed with a great club to defend himself, and so apprehended him, and carried him before a magistrate, who committed him to Newgate, and he was carried thither in a coach. 

Maynard, being in prison, confessed the horrid fact, and discovered his accomplices, who were, one Marsh, Bevel, and Mercer,and said that Marsh was the setter-on, being a near neighbor to Stockden, and knew he was well furnished with money and plate; and though Marsh was not present at the robbery, yet he meant to have a share of the booty. Marsh, knowing or suspecting that Maynard had discovered him, left his habitation. 

Stockden appeared soon after to Mrs. Greenwood, and seemed by his countenance to be displeased: he carried her to a house in Old street, where she had never been, and showed her a flight of stairs, and told her that one of the men lodged there: the next morning she took Mary Buggas with her to the house, according to the direction of the dream, where she asked a woman if one Marsh did not live there; to which the woman replied that he often came thither. This Marsh was taken soon after in another place. 

After this, Mrs. Greenwood dreamed that Stockden carried her over the bridge, up the burough, and into a yard, where she saw Bevil, the third criminal (whom she had never seen before) and his wife: upon her telling this dream, it was believed that it was one of the prison-yards; and thereupon she went with Mrs. Footman (who was Stockden's kinswoman and housekeeper, and was gagged in his house when he was murdered) to the Marshalsea, where they inquired for Bevil, and were informed that he was lately brought thither for coining, and that he was taken near the Bankside, according to a dream which Mrs. Greenwood had before of his being there. They desired to see him, and when he came, he said to Mrs. Footman, “Do you know me?” She replied, “I do not.” Whereupon he went from them.  Mrs. Greenwood then told Mrs. Footman, that she was sure of his being the man whom she saw in her sleep. 

They then went into the cellar, where Mrs. Greenwood saw a lusty woman, and privately said to Mrs. Footman, “That's Bevil's wife, whom I saw in my sleep.” They desired that Bevil might come to them, and first put on his periwig, which was not on the time before: the lusty woman said, “Why should you speak with my husband again, since you said you did not know him?" He came the second time, and said, “Do you know me now?" Mrs. Footman replied, “No;” but it proceeded from a sudden fear, that some mischief might be done to her, who had very narrowly escaped death from him when she was gagged; and as soon as she was out of the cellar, she told Mrs. Greenwood that she then remembered him to be the man. 

They went soon after to the clerk of the peace, and procured his removal to Newgate, where he confessed the fact, and said, “To the grief of my heart, I killed him.”  

Mrs. Greenwood did not dream anything concerning Mercer, who was a party concerned, but would not consent to the murder of Stockden, and preserved Mrs. Footman's life; nor has there been any discovery of him since.  He consequently escaped, and the three others were found guilty and hanged. After the murderers were taken, Mrs. Greenwood dreamed that Stockden came to her in the street, and said, “Elizabeth, I thank thee; the God of heaven reward thee for what thou hast done.” 

Since which she has been at quiet from those frights which had much tormented her, and caused an alteration considerable in her countenance. This relation is certified by the lord bishop of Gloucester, who, with the then dean of York, the master of the Charterhouse, and Dr. Alix, had the particulars of the foregoing narrative from Mrs. Greenwood and Mrs.Buggas.

Book Clipping of the Day

"The Nightmare," Henry Fuseli

This strange and extremely creepy narrative was included in Edmund Gurney's "Phantasms of the Living" (1886.)  It gives a sinister twist to that old saying about "meeting the man of your dreams."

From Miss L.A.W., whose only reason for withholding her name from publication is that she is sure that her family would object to its appearance.

She begins by saying that when she was 19 or 20, she had a spell of indifferent health, caused, it was thought, by over-study. During this time, from March in one year till June in the next, she was much troubled at intervals by singular dreams, which she recorded in a note-book, and also described to one of her sisters. The main feature in these dreams was the appearance of a particular person. "I was not in love, nor indeed had I been; and certainly no feeling but that of a mysterious repugnance (and at the same time an inability to avoid or escape from the influence of the person of whom I dreamt) actuated me. He was someone I had never in all my life wittingly seen, though I had reason to think afterwards that he had seen me at a Birmingham musical festival. On that occasion I had apparently fainted, and it was attributed to the heat and the excitement of the music. I hardly knew if it were or not. I only knew I felt all my pulses stop, and a burning and singing in my head, and that I was perfectly conscious of those around me, but unable to speak and tell them so. To return to my dreams. I always knew as I slept when the influence was coming over me, and often in my dream I commenced it by thinking, 'Here it is, or here he comes again.' They were not always disagreeable dreams in themselves, but the fascination was always dreadful to me, and a kind of struggle between two natures within me seemed to drag my powers of mind and body two ways. I used to awake as cold as a stone in the hottest nights, my head having the queer feeling of a hot iron pressing somewhere in its inside. I would shiver and my teeth chatter with a terror which seemed unreasonable, for there was, even in the subjects of my dreams, seldom anything wicked or terrifying."

The dreams ceased after a course of medical treatment. In the next year but one Miss W. was visiting in Liverpool. "I had enjoyed two or three good dances, and was sitting out one, by the lady of the house, when not suddenly, but by degrees, I felt myself turning cold and stony, and the peculiar burning in my head. If I could have spoken I would have said, 'My dreams! my dreams!' but I only shivered, which attracted the notice of my companion, who exclaimed, 'You are ill, my dear. Come for some wine, or hot coffee.' I rose, knowing what I was going to see, and as I turned, I looked straight into the eyes of the facsimile of the being who had been present to my sleeping thoughts for so long, and the next moment he stepped forward from the pillar against which he was leaning behind the lace curtain, and shook hands with my companion. He accompanied us to the refreshment room, attended to my wants, and was introduced to me. I declined dancing, but could not avoid conversation. His first remark was, 'We are not strangers to each other. Where have we met?' I fear I shall scarcely be believed when I say, that (setting my teeth, and nerving myself to meet what I felt would conquer me, if I once submitted in even the slightest degree) I answered that I never remembered meeting him before, and to all his questionings returned the most reserved answers. He seemed much annoyed and puzzled, but on that occasion did not mention dreams.

"I took an opportunity of asking my sister if she remembered my description of the man of my dreams, and upon her answering 'Yes,' asked her to look round the rooms and see if any one there resembled him, and half-an-hour later she came up, saying, 'There is the man, he has even the mole on the left side of his mouth.'"

Miss W. subsequently met this gentleman at almost every party she went to. "He was sometimes so gloomy and fierce at my determined avoidance of any but the most ordinary conversation, that I felt quite a terror of meeting him. He frequently asked if I believed in dreams; if I could relate any to him; if I had never seen him before; and would say, after my persistent avoidance of the subject, 'I can do nothing, so long as you will not trust me.'"

Miss W. says that she has several pages, in her note-book, of entries of dreams in which she seemed to be accompanying her visitor in a flight through the world. "When conversing with him in the flesh, he asked me if I had 'ever travelled.' I said 'No.' He showed surprise, and began to dilate on the wonders of such and such a place or scene, all of which I felt sure I had seen with him, and entered in my note-book. It was deeply interesting, and I was totally absorbed in his recitals, time after time, when he abruptly stopped, saying, 'But have you never had scenes such as these before you?' and I replied, 'Yes, in my dreams I have.' Such, or similar remarks, I know I have noted down, and his eagerness to make me admit similar experiences was at times almost fierce. I had a great longing at times to tell him everything, but an innate sense that by so doing I should be as completely his slave and tool as I had been in dreams, always stopped me."

The effort of these conversations was so exhausting to Miss W. that she wrote home to get herself recalled, a fact which her strange acquaintance seems to have intuitively divined, and for which he bitterly reproached her. She has never seen him since. She says, in answer to inquiries: "You are right in your conjecture that he inferred [? implied] he had seen me in dreams. He often talked as if he were perfectly aware that I knew it, but that I would not go beyond a certain limit in admitting anything." She adds that her sister remembers all the circumstances the dreams, their frequency, and the correct description of the man subsequently met; but we have not been able to procure the sister's written confirmation. Miss W. says that she cannot spare the time to make extracts from her diary for publication.