"...we should pass over all biographies of 'the good and the great,' while we search carefully the slight records of wretches who died in prison, in Bedlam, or upon the gallows."
~Edgar Allan Poe
Friday, August 31, 2018
Weekend Link Dump
This week's Link Dump is sponsored by more of our lovely and talented Bookplate Cats!
Who the hell was Somerton Man?
Watch out for the Yowie!
Ancient Egyptians had an effective pregnancy test.
What the Well-Dressed Ghost is Wearing.
The Cowboy Cartographer.
Charles Dickens and the pickpocket.
Hazing the freshmen, 14th century style.
An Arctic explorer's Year of Living Carnivorously.
Queen Charlotte's unlucky-in-love sister.
Disraeli and the Deep State.
The suicide capital of America.
The Prince Albert memorial.
The last victim of the Spanish Inquisition.
If you have any coal lying around, keep an eye peeled for bats.
A champion grave-robber. Everyone has to excel at something, I guess.
Astrology as political propaganda.
Pro tip: if a stretch of road is known as the "Highway of Death," find another route.
19th century tips for raising a British child in India.
The tradition of Jack-in-the-Green.
How an 18th century African boy became a German philosopher.
Say what you will about goats, but they're really damned smart.
A mysterious ancient board game.
An Alaskan "quiet adventure."
The last of the Auks.
If this is real (and as far as I can tell, it is)...Jesus freaking Christ in a sidecar.
19th century crossings of the Atlantic were, well, not fun.
A French "feral boy."
The return of the Hunger Stones.
A mysterious death and Wizard Richardson.
A musical maritime murder.
Unearthing a Chinese pyramid.
This will end well, I'm sure.
The cat as doctor AND burglar alarm.
Everyone who's surprised that something dubbed the "Murder Castle" is haunted, raise your hands.
Everyone who's surprised that something dubbed the "Witches' Prison" is haunted, raise your hands.
The Case of the Blinked Cows.
The many--too many?--dogs of New York City.
The sad case of Horatia Nelson.
Meet Fred the Mummy.
A perfectly preserved body of a now-extinct horse.
Evening gloves and etiquette.
The legendary beauty of the Circassians.
The pioneering Queen of Magic.
The adventures of John Muir and Stickeen.
A very sad footnote to WWII: England's pet massacre.
The Great Chaise Match.
The murder on 30th Street.
Ah, the joys of San Francisco: astronomical cost of living, high crime, poop maps, and a good chance you'll go missing.
Eloping in the Georgian era.
And that's all for this week! See you on Monday, when we'll look at a couple's unsolved disappearance. In the meantime, as we're nearing the end of summer, I thought this song was appropriate.
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Newspaper Clipping of the Day
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via Newspapers.com |
If you want to write a screenplay for a horror movie centered around a Boy Scout camping trip, this would be an excellent way to start. The (Camden, New Jersey) "Courier-Post," July 11, 1932:
A mysterious hermit, with long- flowing beard and a chilling cackle, led two Boy Scout leaders Saturday midnight to the body of a murdered man in a Delaware County, Pa., woods.A pair of eyeglasses found with the body enabled authorities to tentatively identify the victim as one Zephonia Hopper. Police assumed he was waylaid and killed by robbers, who then hid his body in the woods. However, his murder appears to have remained unsolved. As far as I can tell, they never found that hermit, either.
Then, as he showed them the remains, the hermit disappeared.
An all-night and all-day search of the vicinity has failed to locate him. The murdered man has not been identified.
The Scout leaders were Wilmer Brown, 31, scoutmaster of the Colwyn Troop, and Walter Hawks, his assistant. They were on their way to the Scout camp on Darby Creek, Delaware township.
When the two were at the edge of the woods, the hermit appeared. Flashlights of the Scouts picked out his weird countenance from among the heavy brush and trees. "Do you want to see something?" the hermit asked in his strange, cackling way.
"Yes," the two replied, although later admitting they were frightened for the moment. Then the hermit led them through thicket and underbrush, over little used by-paths and through parts of the woods where no paths at all appeared.
He came to a little clearing. Bending over, he parted the underbrush and said one word" "Look."
Brown and Hawks complied. They saw, with startled eyes, the form of a man. A gun lay close at hand. They advanced into the thicket to get a closer view. Then turning to question the hermit, they discovered he had silently vanished.
The Scouts ran to the Springfield township police headquarters. Sergeant Chandler was on duty. He called Coroner J. Evan Scheehle of Delaware County and a searching party set out.
It took them nearly two hours to again reach the spot where the body of the man lay. At first it was believed he was a suicide. But no bullet holes were found In his tattered clothing nor his decomposed body.
The body was taken to the county morgue and an autopsy performed. Then it was disclosed that the man had been beaten to death. Two shots had been fired from the gun near at hand, but neither entered the body of the man.
His clothing, though worn and tattered by exposure, told police the man had been well-to-do. Expensive dental work furnished a clue.
Police are checking with all dentists of the Philadelphia area in hopes of identifying the man. Meanwhile the hunt for the mysterious hermit with the white, flowing whiskers continues.
The moral is clear: if a cackling hermit asks if you would like to view something in the woods, politely decline. You probably won't like what you see.
Monday, August 27, 2018
Poison at the Castle
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"The Guardian," October 6, 1911, via Newspapers.com |
England's Lancaster Castle is your typical brooding ancient fortress. Unlike most old castles, however, it does not carry any legends of curses or angry spirits.
Judging by what happened there in 1911, perhaps it should.
During that eerie year in the castle's history, it was occupied by the Bingham family. The clan's patriarch, 73-year-old widower William Bingham, had been the castle's caretaker and tour guide for some forty years. Most of his children also worked in various capacities around the estate. William's daughter, Annie, had been acting as housekeeper at the castle, but in November 1910, she died suddenly of what was ruled "hysteria and cerebral congestion."
William was a strong, healthy man, so it was surprising when on January 22, 1911, he suddenly came down with violent stomach pains and vomiting. He died the next day. Despite his lack of any previous health problems, his death was officially dismissed as being due to a combination of "intestinal catarrh," heart failure, and simple old age.
William's son James took over his father's job as castle custodian. In July, he invited his half-sister Margaret to live with him as housekeeper. Within days of her arrival at Lancaster, she too suddenly died. Despite the recent alarming propensity of the Binghams to unexpectedly drop dead, her death was also ruled as natural.
James was once again in need of household help, and the only available Bingham still above ground was his 29-year-old sister Edith. Unfortunately, Edith was a quarrelsome, dishonest, and generally unstable person who had been on bad terms with her family for some years. However, James, feeling he had no other choice, asked her to take Margaret's place.
He soon wished he had coughed up the money for a good domestic agency. Edith neglected her work in favor of nights on the town with her boyfriend, Charlie Emerson, and, on the rare occasions when she was at the castle, spent much of her time bickering with James. Edith wrote to her sister Nellie complaining about how she was forced to take "a back place" in the household, and hinting she might kill herself if the situation did not improve. By August, James had had enough. He hired a Mrs. Cox Walker to manage his household, and informed his sister that her free room and board at the castle was coming to an end.
On August 12--just two days before Mrs. Walker was to move into the castle and Edith was to move out--James fell ill, with the same sudden and agonizing symptoms suffered by his father. And, tragically, they led to the same result. James Bingham died on August 15.
It finally began to dawn on people that Lancaster Castle was compiling a quite unusual body count. James' doctor, J.W. McIntosh, had a hunch his patient died of arsenic poisoning--a diagnosis that was confirmed by the post-mortem examination.
The inquest revealed that just before he became ill, James had eaten a steak cooked for him by Edith. Although Edith usually took meals with her brother, on this occasion James ate alone. Cans of weed-killer containing high levels of arsenic were found hidden near the entrance to the castle. The suspicion grew that Edith, seeking revenge for her imminent eviction from the castle, poisoned her brother. When the bodies of the three other dead Binghams were exhumed, it was discovered that William and Margaret had also succumbed from arsenic poisoning. Only Annie appeared to have died a natural death. It was looking as if Edith had been systematically wiping out most of her family. Chief among her accusers was her sole surviving brother, William. Edith was arrested on August 30. It was considered ominously significant that when she was taken into custody, she blurted out that she never went near the weed-killer.
No one had mentioned to her that the pesticide was the suspected murder weapon.
The cook is always the logical suspect when diners begin dropping like flies, but other than Edith's long-term difficulties with her family, the case against her proved to be astonishingly weak. A charwoman who had been in the kitchen when Edith cooked James' steak testified that she had not seen anything unusual. Edith did not profit financially from the demise of her relatives--indeed, the deaths of her father and brother only insured that she would lose her home at Lancaster Castle. As Margaret Bingham had eaten the same food as the rest of the family just before she was taken ill, it was hard to explain how Edith could have poisoned her. Edith's father had not eaten anything prepared by the defendant before his fatal collapse. Numerous witnesses attested to Edith's apparently genuine shock and grief at the loss of her relatives. In short, while the three Binghams died from arsenic poisoning, there was no hard evidence to say how this had happened. During the trial, Edith had several fits of hysteria and nervous collapse, necessitating her removal from the courtroom.
The judge's summing-up was heavily in the defendant's favor, and the jury agreed. After a brief deliberation, they had little trouble in delivering an acquittal. There was, however, no happy ending for Edith Bingham. In 1914 her grandparents placed her in a mental asylum, where she remained until her death in 1945. Despite many promptings, Edith never spoke about the poisonings, leaving the deaths of William, Margaret, and James Bingham a mystery that will almost certainly go forever unsolved.
Friday, August 24, 2018
Weekend Link Dump
This week's Link Dump is sponsored by a celebrity: Tix, the celebrated angora cat of Green's Hotel!
Where the hell is Genghis Khan buried?
What the hell did Jane Austen look like?
Watch out for those demon houses!
The first photograph containing a human being, then and now.
Some cautionary tales about murdering people by putting nails in their skulls.
Jackie Gleason: "To the aliens, Alice!"
Opium and the Sumerians: fact and fiction.
The legend of Guinevere.
Angels are not always welcome.
One of the more horrifying poltergeist cases.
The French female Jekyll and Hyde.
Did Francis Drake bring slaves to North America?
Little Angry Women. (Incidentally, I recently re-read the "Little Women" trilogy for the first time since I was a teen. I was struck by how increasingly depressing they are. "Jo's Boys" is enough to give Thomas Hardy the glooms.)
The legend of the Witch of Warrington.
Words of advice from 19th century letters.
Vegetables as surgical tools.
More reasons why Wikipedia is the most demented site on the internet.
Celebrate World Mosquito Day! *Slaps arm*
The rumored hidden treasure in Los Angeles.
This week in Russian Weird: Beach Blanket Bizarre. And guess where Syria is now located.
A mysterious murder in Waldron Woods.
America's first elephant.
How Biddy Mason went from slave to real estate tycoon.
The latest about that newly-discovered Egyptian sarcophagus.
Reindeer reincarnation in Norway.
The murder of a Pope.
The hottest gossip from the 17th century.
Someone nicknamed "the Mad" comes to a bad end. Surprise, surprise.
Sigmund Freud vs. Woodrow Wilson.
If you want to make your own authentic Egyptian mummy--and who does not?--here's the secret.
A 13th century criminal appeal.
A forgotten Founding Mother.
Charles Godfrey Leland hits the road.
That's all for this week! See you on Monday, when we'll be looking at that ever-popular topic, poison mysteries. In the meantime, let's go to a Ranch Party!
Wednesday, August 22, 2018
Book Clipping of the Day
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"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.
Monday, August 20, 2018
The Ghosts of Chateau des Noyers
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Via Wikipedia |
Considering Normandy's very long and colorful history, you figure it would take a lot for a residence to get the reputation as its "most haunted chateau," but judging by what one family said it experienced for two straight years, the title may be justified.
Château des Noyers was located in the Calvados village of Le Tourneur. It was built in 1835, largely from the stones of an earlier medieval castle. The site had long had a reputation for anomalous activity--a spectral woman in white here, a werewolf there--but no solid evidence of High Strangeness was recorded until a couple by the name of de Manville inherited the chateau in 1867. The de Manvilles brought with them their son Maurice, the boy's tutor, a gardener, a cook, and a maid.
Soon after they moved in, they noticed a few odd disturbances--strange noises in the night, doors slamming for no reason, objects inexplicably being moved--but those soon ceased. Life at the chateau was quiet until October of 1875, when the family found themselves plunged into an eerie and terrifying experience, one which, luckily for ghost researchers, was minutely chronicled by M. de Manville in his diary.
On October 13, Maurice's tutor (identified only as "Abbe Y.,") informed de Manville that his armchair had been mysteriously moved. They attached gummed paper to the foot of the chair, fixing it to the floor. That night, the Abbe heard a series of light raps in his room. He also noticed a noise that was "of the winding of a big clock." A candlestick on his mantelpiece began moving on its own. He then heard the armchair being dragged across the floor. It was moved over three feet from where it had been placed.
Over the next few nights, the household continued to hear violent blows throughout the castle, as well as the sound of furniture being moved. The Abbe and the maid, Amelina, swore they heard M. and Mme. de Manville's footsteps, and recognized the sounds of their voices...when the couple was in reality asleep in their bed. When the parish priest spent the night, he heard a heavy tread slowly descending the stairs, followed by a single heavy blow. "He has no doubt this is supernatural."
The unnerving sounds then took a break until the night of October 30, when the household was awakened by a series of loud blows. The next night--Halloween, appropriately enough--the spectral commotion intensified. There was a sound "as if someone went up the stairs with superhuman speed from the ground floor, stamping his feet. Arriving on the landing, he gave five heavy blows, so strong that objects suspended on the wall rattled in their places. Then it seemed as if a heavy anvil or a big log had been thrown on to the wall, so as to shake the house." Everyone present made a minute inspection of the castle, but found nothing. The strange noises continued, keeping everyone awake until three in the morning.
On the night of November 3, the household heard more of the heavy spectral steps ascending the stairs, accompanied by the usual series of crashing blows, heavy enough to shake the walls. They were followed by "the noise of a heavy elastic body" rolling down the stairs and bouncing from step to step. Then came two loud thumps, and a noise like a hammer blow on the door of the "green room." And then scuffling sounds like the steps of animals.
Virtually every night, the household was treated to a cacophony of blows, raps, and invisible footsteps. On November 10, there was "something like a cry, or a long-drawn trumpet call." This was followed by long shrieks, as of a woman screaming for help. These ghostly sobs and cries continued over the next few nights.
On November 13, for the first time the now-familiar sound of blows was heard during the day, and furniture was mysteriously moved in several rooms. Windows opened and closed before their very eyes. That night, there were new cries. Instead of the sounds of a weeping woman, they heard "shrill, furious, despairing cries, the cries 'of demons or the damned.'"
It was noted that the bulk of the eerie phenomena centered around the room of the Abbe. Although he always carefully locked his room whenever he left it, he would invariably return to find his furniture and personal possessions in a state of disarray. On and on it went. De Manville's diary is an unvarying chronicle of loud blows, angry knocks, stamping footsteps, animal-like noises, disappearing objects, and rooms ransacked by invisible hands. Members of the household began noticing that the raps seemed to "follow" them as they walked through the house.
On January 15, 1876, a Canon, described only as "The Rev. Fr. H.L.," performed a religious ceremony in an effort to drive away the dark forces bedeviling the family. Immediately following his departure, there was "a new set of phenomena as intense and serious as those which preceded his coming." That night, there was the sound of a body falling in the first-floor passage, followed by that of a rolling ball giving violent blows on the doors, accompanied by the now-familiar knocks and earth-shaking blows. The oddest occurrence to date took place on January 25, as the Abbe sat in his room reading his breviary. Although it had been a beautiful cloudless day, a stream of water suddenly fell through the chimney on to the fire, putting it out and scattering ashes throughout the room.
Out of sheer desperation, at the end of January the de Manvilles brought in a priest to perform an exorcism, and placed holy medals on all the doors. At first, this seemed to quiet these unusually rowdy spirits, and the family allowed themselves to believe the ordeal was over. Unfortunately, by August 1876 the raps, knocks, cries, etc., started up again, as noisily and eerily as ever. The medals mysteriously vanished. Several days later, as Madame de Manville was writing at her desk, the missing medals came out of nowhere and fell onto her papers. One day, de Manville played his harmonium. When he had finished, he heard the tunes he had been playing repeated in the opposite corner of the room. The spirits evidently enjoyed their musical interlude, as for several days afterward, the family heard the sound of organ music. The Abbe reported seeing a heavy cupboard in his room rise some 20 inches from the ground, where it stayed suspended for some time.
The de Manvilles finally conceded defeat, and sold the chateau for a rock-bottom price. The new owners did not report anything unusual. The now-infamous castle stood quietly until it was destroyed by a mysterious fire in 1984.
Friday, August 17, 2018
Weekend Link Dump
It occurs to me that this eatery's sign would also fit very well for Strange Company HQ.
Who the hell murdered Joe the Quilter?
Who the hell was "Mary Anderson?"
When the hell did the largest volcanic explosion in human history take place?
Watch out for the carpenter of doom!
Watch out for those cursed cheeses!
One of the 19th century's most famous murders.
That time Leonard Bernstein disowned his own performance.
What's believed to be the world's oldest map.
The gruesome mystery of the Woman in the Vineyard.
The trouble with swimming naked is that you might have to stay naked.
I already do this for free, and I have to pay a mortgage, to boot. And God knows I've never gotten enough solitude for my liking. Sign me up.
The surprising number of people who survived the gallows.
And then there are those who are executed after they're already dead.
The latest theory about Easter Island.
An oozing "miracle house." Or maybe it has a really bad mildew problem. Lysol, guys. Just sayin'.
Look, if you decide to call a place "Helltown," don't come crying to me when things get weird.
Hong Kong was shaped by feng shui.
The house of 100 cats. (No, not Strange Company HQ, although we come close.)
The scientific debate over dinosaur extinction looks like a particularly nasty Twitter war. (This is a long article, but quite fascinating.)
So, a guy did a study analyzing which world cities have the most perfect temperatures. Ironically, most of them are cities you'd want to avoid for a whole lot of other reasons.
The unexpected hazards of being a seamstress.
A sideways grave for a sideways dog.
An orchestra of prisoners.
Demonic possession in South Africa.
Radioactive sheep in Australia.
18th century wet nurses.
Hanging is too good for some people.
19th century Indian pension lists.
How tofu was brought to America.
The evolution of the waltz.
The Iranian Saltmen.
Does Egypt have a second Sphinx?
The UK's last public hanging.
William Blake has gotten a new tombstone.
Not a good planet to visit if you dislike the heat.
The importance of mythology in ancient Egypt.
The search for the "Endeavour."
Summoned by the dead.
That's it for this week! See you on Monday, when we'll look at a well-documented French haunting. In the meantime, here are the Collins Kids. I never heard of them until recently, when I discovered the duo during one of my explorations of the wilds of YouTube. I love these two. Damn, but Larry rocks.
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