Spooks and Bogies in Flanders.
In the villages adjoining Dunkirk, and in the streets adjacent to the harour, where the sailors and their families reside, supernatural agencies and manifestations are firmly believed in. Certain old women or men are credited with the power of wishing evil to any person who offends them, and should they, with extended finger, touch a human being or an animal, disease or death will of a surety ensue. The counter charm consists in rapidly purusing the worker of the spell, and in placing a hand on his or her head. A number of these so-called witches are much dreaded, and create quite a reign of terror around themselves. Some are reputed to enjoy the faulty of changing their outward appearance at will, and a certain old woman, who died but a few years ago, was stated to have occasionally transformed herself into a black cat. It happens not unfrequently that the victim of a spell appeals to the priest, and begs him to intercede.
About two years ago a house, situated in this town, was exorcised after the following occurrences. The building is old, and was constructed more than two centuries ago. It consists of two storeys, and contains a number of rooms, which are let to working people, the landlady occupying an apartment on the first floor. Two years back, on the eve of All Saints, the good lady was standing in the courtyard, in company with some other women, when all of a sudden a terrific crash was heard upstairs. The group at once dispersed, and the talkers rushed to their respective rooms, each one fearing that a truant child or a roving cat might have caused the smash in her apartment.
The landlady also proceeded upstairs, feeling, however, no uneasiness, as she had locked her doors and had the keys in her pocket. She entered the room and found everything in order, but was impelled to give a look to the cupboard, in which all her china was stored. She opened the door, which was also locked, and to her dismay ascertained that the three shelves on which soup tureens, dinner plates, dishes, cups, glasses, etc., had stood were swept of their contents, which were strewed all over the floor, and were shivered to atoms. The landlady’s first thought was that one of her children might have caused the damage. But a moment’s reflection convinced her of the error. The outer door and the door of the cupboard were both locked, and the keys had not left her pocket. There was no other communication to the cupboard, nor could a shock from the street account for the mishap, as the shelves were firmly fixed to the wall.
The rumour of this mysterious occurrence quickly spread through the house, and very promptly the people decided that some mischievous goblin had done the damage. From that hour the lodgers saw – or fancied they saw – strange apparitions. Shadowy forms were noticed ascending and descending the stairs, bells were rung, weird moans heard at dead of night. In a short time the house acquired the reputation of being haunted, and the inhabitants hardly dared to leave their rooms after dark. This state of affairs went on for some time until the landlady appealed to the clergy, who, in compliance with her wish, solemnly exorcised the house and adjured the “bogies” to leave, which request the latter – who were undoubtedly very orthodox goblins – at once complied with.
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Falkirk Herald, 31st July 1895.