Berg-geister. – Clamps-in-the-Wood.
By William Howitt.
It is a curious question to what extent variety of spirits reach in the invisible world. The variety of animated life in the world is infinite, measuring from the elephant to the animalcule which requires vast microscopic power to perceive it. Must we not then suppose that some such analogy prevails in the spiritual world; and that such spirits as are but a little lower than the grade of men and angels may have almost iden[…] with them, and may be distinguished only by lesser stature, different hue, or by peculiarity of habits?
We know that classical antiquity peoples air, earth, wood and water with such varied beings. The Naiad, the Dryad, the Hamadryad, the Nereid, enlivened mountain, forest, and ocean, to their imaginations, and have added a whole world of creation in their poetry to the natural one. The middle ages abounded with imps, including brownies, necks, pixies and fairies, and even yet there are those who maintain that these are more than poetic entities. We know that the miners of Germany and the North have always asserted and do still assert the existence of Kobolds and other Berg-Geister, or spirits of the mountains and the mines, and that they assist or thwart their exertions in quest of ore, according to if they are irritated or placated. They describe them as short and black, and declare that when they are attached to certain miners they go before them in the solid subterranean rock, knocking with their hammers, and thus indicating the presence of metal and the devious course of the vein. If it is lost by a break in the strata, or a fault as they call it, the sound of the Berg-Geister’s hammer directs where again to seek for it; and when there is the busy and energetic thumping of many hammers, it is the certain announcement of abundant ore.
[This is interesting in that it brings to mind the idea of strange phenomena at faults in the earth’s crust – a liminal spot. And also that earthlights and leylines and even haunted houses are posited to be associated with such places. I had not previously connected the knockers with these faults but I suppose that is in fact obvious.]
I might quote whole chapters of relations of this kind from German writers, but these things are too well known to need that. I was lately reading somewhere of three or four of these spirits of the mines making occasional visits to a house in the vicinity of mines in Germany or Norway. They were described as about four feet in height, perfectly black, and seeming to enjoy the approach to the fire and the society of the inmates. I have repeatedly sought for this account, not having made a note of it at the time, but in vain. My reason for this was to quote it with time and place, as a curious coincidence of what I am now going to relate. It was but the other day, too, that I met with a mechanic in Wales who has been led to the discovery of a vein of copper ore by the knocking of the spirits of the mine.
[Here I have a random thought of my grandfather, who told me he heard the knockers in the coal mines in South Wales. He also had the talent of water divining, I am led to understand. Is there a connection between ‘using’ mine spirits to point out veins of ore underground, and using some sort of sense to divine streams of water underground?
Also, it is interesting that Mr Howitt mentions spirits coming from the mines to visit a house. The fact they ‘enjoy the approach to the fire’ surely means they were heard or seen near the hearth (this being an oft-mentioned location of the house) and that they ‘enjoyed the society of the inmates’ may suggest some interaction with them – both rather poltergeisty features.
I also notice the description of ‘perfectly black’. We hear time and again the description of things being so black that they are almost a hole in reality, that they are blacker than the night around them, etc.)
In the spring of 1859, we spent a few pleasant months at Thorpe, in my native county of Derby, near the entrance to the charming glen, Dovedale. Whilst here a poor woman from the hills at a few miles distance came to a neighbouring clergyman to beg that he would go to her cottage and exorcise some spirits which haunted it, and which she said she was afraid might frighten the children. She described them as coming enveloped in a peculiar light, which sometimes illuminated the whole house. The clergyman, a young and clever Oxford man, told the woman that there were no such things as ghosts, that all such notions were now exploded as silly and superstitious, and that the best proof was that such things never appeared to the enlightened and well-educated. He assured her that at the same time he perfectly believed her story, and did not doubt the annoyance to which she was subjected, but that she might depend upon it that it proceeded from some of her neighbours in the flesh, who probably wanted to get her cottage if they could frighten her out of it; and that the light, he had as little doubt, was thrown into her house by a magic-lantern. He advised her to keep a sharp look-out, and try to discover her disturbers. The poor woman shook her head and returned, nothing assured by this learned lecture.
Hearing of this from the clergyman himself, I asked him, much to his astonishment, whether he was quite so sure that these were not spirits? He looked hard at me to see whether I were not quizzing him; but being told that I was quite serious, he grew more astonished. He was prepared for superstition in an old peasant-woman, but not amongst the “book-larned,” as they are styled up there. I added, for his further astonishment, that the visits of spirits in London, as well as all over America, were now things of daily occurrence; that I myself had seen their amazing doings, had received many communications from them, and had repeatedly shaken hands with them. It was a proof of my friend’s firmness of mind that he did not at once advise my family to have me well looked after. Perhaps he did not do that because he found them all asserting the same experiences.
Naturally desirous to ascertain the amount of truth in the old woman’s story, I asked the person whose cottage I occupied whether he had ever heard of a place called Clamps-in-the-Wood being haunted. “Oh,” said he, “that is a very old story. Clamps, a labourer, lived there fifty years, and he always talked of the lights which every few evenings lit up his house. He was grown very fond of them, and called them his ‘glorious lights’. When he was out anywhere, and it was growing late, he used to say, ‘Well, I must go home, I want to see my glorious lights.'” “Does he live there now?” I asked. “No, sir,” said my informant, a dry, clear-headed unimaginative carpenter; “no, sir, old Clamps left the cottage four years ago and went to the next village, where he died. He was then about eighty years of age, and wanted caring for.” “And did anyone else ever see these lights?” I asked. “Oh, bless you, sir, yes, plenty of people. They were no ways healar (shy). They would come when neighbours were in.” “But were they only lights? Did Clamps and his friends never see any figures, ghosts or anything of that sort?” “Not as I ever heard of. They were lights as came and went.”
Finding that this was an old affair, and that it was known all over the neighbourhood, there was an end of the magic-lantern. Very improbable as it was that any magic-lantern was to be found up there, even if such a thing had been heard of, it was still more improbable that some wag or generation of wags had been playing it off on Clamps and his successors for half a century. But what these lights were, I determined to know. According to the old woman’s story, there were now visible not only lights but spirits.
On a fine afternoon in June, I therefore set out for Clamps-in-the-Wood. My way led me past the charming Ilam Hall, the seat of Jesse Watts Russell, Esq., and along the banks of the Manifold, that pleasant and careering trout stream, and up in to the hills beyond. It was drawing towards evening when the foot-path, into which I had been directed by a cottage [inhabitant?] sitting sewing in the moorland valley below, led me directly in front of a good country mansion, with a garden enclosed by a stone wall before it, and a pair of tall, ornamental gates admitting a view of this pleasant and flowery area. There were some children at play in this garden, and of them I enquired the way to Clamps-in-the-Wood. “Oh,” said they, “you must keep along the outside of the garden wall to the right, past the farm yard, and then you will see the road leading over the hills.”
[I can see where Ilam Hall is, it is now a youth hostel near the river in Ilam. He doesn’t mention crossing the Manifold, so I suppose he is somewhere north of the Manifold, west of Dove Dale? Castern Hall could be the mansion he mentions, as it still has a tall ornamental gateway in front of the house. But I’m not sure where he’s heading after this. The area is dotted with mine shafts, quarries and barrows. ]
Thanking my young informants, I was turning away, when I saw a gentleman rushing swiftly from the house, and beckoning me to stop. I waited, and found that he knew me by having seen me at Ilam, and would insist that I should go in and take tea with them. “We have just returned,” he said, “from a pic-nic in Dovedale, and are having a tea-dinner.” I went in, where I was introduced to the lady of the house and to two other ladies, visitors. Tea over, I excused in leaving them by stating my intention of proceeding over to Clamps. There was a curious expression passed over the faces of the ladies, but no remark was made. My host walked out with me saying, “The man who now lives at Clamps is my labourer; he is just going home, and will shew you the way.” He called “David,” and a young, intelligent fellow appeared from the cow-house, and his master bade him shew me the way to Clamps. He himself continued to walk with us some distance, and then saying with a smile, “David will tell you all about the ghost,” turned back.
Accordingly as we pursued our way over the bare green moorland hills, I asked David, “What about the ghosts?” He told me that he could not himself speak as to ghosts, only on the authority of his mother-in-law who lived with him. All that he had seen were lights. These, he said, came almost every evening, but only on dark nights. In the summer they saw nothing of them, but about November, when the cold weather and the long nights set in, they came very often, moved about the house, sometimes made it quite light, and then sunk through the floor.
[Once again, I note the phenomena is happening in the winter months.]
His mother-in-law said she saw black figures in the middle of these lights; but for his part, he only saw the lights, and so did his wife. I asked him if they had ever been seen before he came to live there, and he gave the same account that I had received at Thorpe, that old Clamps had always had them; and that numbers of people besides them had seen them often enough.
[In this case, the phenomena are clearly not attached to a particular person, but rather the place. And the fact that numerous people have experienced them suggests some sort of reality to them.]
With this conversation we were close upon the place, and a very striking place it was. A deep valley presented itself below us, its sides clothed with woods, and along its bottom ran the winding course of a stream, which was now dry, and shewed only bare, rugged stones. This was the course of that singular little stream, the Hamps, which runs for a considerable distance under ground; in winter and after heavy rains having only volume enough to appear as a stream above ground, and after a while disappearing altogether, and then bursting up in a tumultous fountain at the foot of the cliffs below Ilam Hall, near another subterranean river, the Manifold.
[And so we have another landscape feature notable for weirdness and folklore: the winterbournes of limestone country.
This means I was wrong about my guess of Castern Hall, he is actually on the west of the Manifold if he’s by the Hamps. (The gates do seem to match very well, whereas I can’t find such gates in the new area yet). But the Hamps doesn’t seem to come out at Ilam Hall? There is however ‘Hamps Spring’ which does come out near Ilam, at SK 12691 50780, far from the Hamps River marked on the map. So he could be up somewhere on Throwley Moor, as that is near the wooded valley of the Hamps River. Unless something else nearer Ilam also gets called the Hamps, in which case he could be further south. Perhaps the hall is Throwley Hall.]
Around this deep, wild, solitary valley rose naked hills, and on their side, not far from this cottage, appeared the mouths and debris of lead mines. It was altogether a place apparently much suited for the haunt of solitary spirits. A paved causeway led down to the house, which stood on the edge of this lonely glen amid a few trees. As I approached, it looked ruinous. The end nearest to me had, in fact, tumbled in, and the remains of an old cheese-press shewed that it had once been a far-house. The part remaining habitable was only barely sufficient for a labourer’s cottage.
On entering, I found the old woman who had invoked the aid of the clergyman, seated in her armed chair under the great wide fireplace common to such houses. There were also a stout, healthy daughter, the wife of David, and two or three children. On telling them that my errand was to enquire into the haunting of which they complained to the clergyman, both mother and daughter gave the same account as David had done. The old woman said that soon after they came to live in the house, where they now had been four years, the lights began to make their appearance and that they would appear most evenings, for months together, and sometimes several times in the course of the evening; they would appear to come out of the wall, would advance to the middle of the floor, would make a kind of flicering, sometimes light up the whole place, and then descend into the floor generally at one spot. There was no cellar beneath the floor, but they descended into the solid rock on which the house was built.
They described the light as neither like the light of a fire, a lamp, or a candle; but they could not express themselves more clearly about it. It did not at all alarm them, and the woman said that the reason that she went to the clergyman was because the children were now getting so old as to notice the light before they went to bed in the evening, and they were afraid that it might come to frighten them.
What made them think so was that the old woman saw clearly dark figures in the centre of the lights. They were generally three, like short men, as black and as polished, she said, as a boot. Whilst they staid, she said their hands were always in motion, and that occasioned the flickering on the wall. She thought them quite harmless, for they never did any mischief, but seemed to take a pleasure in coming towards the warm fire, and looking at what was going on.
She said that at first neither her daughter nor son-in-law saw anything, and laughed at her when she said she saw old Clamp’s lights; but she had prayed earnestly that they might be enabled to see them, so that they might not think she was saying what was not true, and they soon after began to see them, and now saw them regularly, but only the lights; they could not perceive the dark figures within the lights.
[It seems strange that the others didn’t even see the lights to begin with, how can that be so? And that through prayer – concentrated consciousness? – that the others began to see them? ]
I expressed a great desire to see them myself, but they said it was the wrong time of the year: the nights now had scarcely any darkness, and the lights could only be seen during the dark season; that if I should be there towards “the latter end” – they meant, of the year – I might see them almost any evening. I asked if she had ever tried to speak to the dark figures. She said no; she thought it best while they were harmless to leave them alone, and let them come and go just as pleased them.
[I feel like it’s better not to draw attention to oneself or get some sort of interaction/communication going with such things… it seems to encourage the development of the phenomena does it not.]
I asked if they ever heard them speak, and they said never inside of the house, but that they often heard them speaking outside as they came up to the door.
[An inside / outside dichotomy could also be mentioned in relation to many of these things.]
I asked them if they had never been frightened by them, and they replied only once. On a dark night in winter they heard a horse coming down the causeway dragging a log at its feet. They could hear the distinct striking of its iron shoes on the flag-stones, and the jingling of the chain, and lumbering of the log as it was drawn forward. When it came up to the door a fierce dog growled at it, and they were so frightened that one of them jumped up and bolted the door. The sounds then ceased altogether; and on going out to search neither horse nor dog were visible.
I remarked that perhaps a horse had got into their yard; but they said it could not do that, and that they had no dog.
On another occasion, the old woman said that the door being open into the next room, which was the sleeping room, she saw a young woman kneeling on the bed with her back towards her, in the attitude of prayer; that she watched her in silence for some time, when all at once she became covered with spots like a leopard, and then disappeared.
They had also observed when the flickering of the light on the wall was strong, that drops of blood would seem to trickle down, but no stain was ever left. Such was the substance of the statement of the old woman, her daughter and son-in-law.
On my return to the house where I had taken tea, all were eager to know what I had learned. In fact, the hostess, on my setting out for Clamps, had followed me to the door, and particularly pressed me to give them a call on my return. I understood the motive, though no word of the lights or ghosts had been uttered by them or me. They now showed themselves all familiar with the reports of the lights and the figures, yet had never taken the trouble to go and judge for themselves; but said one of their servants, being there one evening, had seen the lights very plainly.
Speaking of these curious circumstances on my return home, one of our friends, Captain D—, a scientific man, observed that he had an engagement in Yorkshire about Christmas, and that he would go round that way, and, if necessary, stay all night at Clamps-in-the-Wood. He kept his word.
Taking up his quarters at the excellent fishing-inn, the Izaak Walton at the mouth of Dovedale [this is still a hotel]; in the course of smoking a cigar with the landlord in the evening, he asked if they had any good ghost-stories in that neighbourhood. “Oh!” said Mr Prince, “if you want a haunted house you must go to Clamps-in-the-Wood.” Not appearing to know anything of the matter, the gallant captain asked him the particulars, and received pretty much such an account as I have given. The captain asked if he thought that there was really anything to be seen there, and the landlord replyed that he could not speak from personal knowledge,for he would rather go twice as far in another direction; but that it was so commonly reported, and by so many who had been there, that there seemed very little doubt about the matter. On this Captain D— declared that, of all things, he would like to witness something supernatural, and that he would go and pass the night there. The astonishment of the host and hostess was unbounded. “What, leave a comfortable inn and comfortable bed on a cold winter’s night to go nearly three miles into a wild region of hills and moors, and to sit up in a haunted house!”
They thought at first that he must be joking, but seeing him throw on a capacious military cloak, they then endeavoured by earnest treaties to dissuade him from his purpose. They represented the darkness and the intricacy of the way; the almost impossibility of finding the place; the dreary solitude of the spot when arrived at. In vain, bidding them good night, our friend rushed forth, and took the way which the landlord had described to him, before aware of his purpose. The undertaking was, indeed, a courageous one. A long march had to be made along a tolerably well-tracked road; then a bye-path must be struck to the right ascending into the hills. The manor-house or mansion at which I had called must be found, and beyond that it was not likely that the direction over the moorland hills could be hit upon without a guide. But those things did not daunt a man who had made his campaign in the wilds of hostile tribes. By inquiring at a cottage near the end of the high road, he was enabled to hit the hill-track, reached the manor-house, and there received fresh instructions. Yet he missed the direction in the moorland hills – a way there could be said to be none – and wandered about for some hours in a thick fog. At length, he managed to re-find the manor-house, and then got a boy to guide him. It was ten o’clock at night when he reached Clamps-in-the-Wood.
[I find it interesting that on the oldest map I can find (1880s) one area around the Hamps river is called ‘Ell Hole’, although on more recent maps ‘Hell Hole’ – perhaps there is a link with ‘Elf’ (certainly Hell doesn’t have pleasant connotations). And there are various supernatural legends connected with the caves in this area. This is by-the-by though, I have yet to really figure out where the manor-house is!]
The astonishment amounting to consternation of the simple inmates at his knock at the door at that time of night in such a place was excessive. When they opened the door, and in walked a gentleman in a large military cloak, they stood in speechless wonder. Captain D—, however, with his affable and agreeable manner, soon put them at their ease, and told them the purport of his visit. Their amazement was, if anything, augmented; but they offered him all the means they had for insuring the success of his visit. He proposed to sit with them till their bed-time, and then, if the mysterious visitors had not appeared, to sit up alone by the fireside. To this they readily assented, and as the hour was already late for them the daughter and son-in-law retired, and the old woman and the captain sate and conversed on the subject of the lights.
During two hours no lights appeared, and the old woman told the captain that the lights were often shy with strangers, but that if he could come in for a few successive evenings, he would see enough of them. As they sate with the light only of a low fire burnt to cinders, and therefore without flame, there came knockings in various parts of the room, now on the walls, then on the table, and then on the floor. Captain D—, who was perfectly familiar with the spiritual phenomenon, vulgarly called spirit-rapping, gave, however, no intimation of this, but asked what these knockings were. The old woman said she didn’t know, but they were always heard when the lights were coming. No lights, however, appeared, but presently the Captain saw his cloak, which he had laid on the table, begin to move, and anon it was pulled down and thrown on the floor. The old woman said they were often doing that sort of thing, but they never did any mischief.
[So knockings and movements of objects are now associated with the lights. It seems kind of unlikely that someone living in a very remote spot would be familiar with accounts of the usual phenomena? Although indeed such things seem to have been going on for hundreds of years with the same tropes, and every man and his dog might have known about Cock Lane and the various other famous cases. Besides, we are rather obliged to believe Captain D—‘s story, are we not? In that the knocks are happening and the cloak is moving?]
When twelve o’clock came, Captain D— insisted on the old woman going to bed, and she went, leaving him a candle to light if he wished, and coal to mend his fire. As the night was cold, he now wrapped himself in his military cloak, and sate in profound silence. There was only just light enough from the fire to make the objects in the room visible, and he could hear that the people in the next room were sound asleep by a full concert of nasal music. He sate till one o’clock; he sate till two, and there was neither sight nor sound, but just as he began to despair, his ear was caught by a sound almost soundless, and turning towards the place, he saw a globular light about the size of an ordinary opaque lamp-globe issue from the wall, about five or six feet from the floor, and advance about half a yard into the room. He was all attention, and so evidently was the intelligence within the light, for there it paused as if become aware of the presence of a stranger.
[It’s interesting that he felt the light was aware of his presence – this is something repeatedly reported,]
Captain D— remained almost breathless, hoping that it would advance into the middle of the room, but it did not. It remained for about a couple of minutes, and then receded again into the wall at the spot whence it had issued. As soon as it was clearly gone, Captain D— lit his candle and examined that part of the wall to see if he could discern any hole or fissure through which the light could have come. There was nothing of the kind: it was perfectly plain and sound. He then examined whether a light could have glanced through the window: that was closely curtained. Next he observed whether a light could have flashed through a chink of the door from the bed room: there was no light there, and the nasal concert was proceeding as steadily as ever. Convinced, both by these examinations, and by the globular and peculiar light, that it was one of the old luminous visitants of the place, he again wrapped himself in his cloak and resumed his watch; but nothing further occurred.
At five o’clock the old woman made her appearance, and enquired what success. Captain D— told her of the appearance of the light, on which she said that was the real light, but no doubt it was “scarred” at sight of a stranger; but if he could come again for a few evenings the lights would get over their shyness, and he would see them over and over; but this was not in the Captain’s power. He made the old woman a recompense for the trouble he had given, and having a cup of [w…] coffee prepared by her, he returned to the inn to breakfast.
The captain’s success was perhaps as much as could be expected for a single visit. He was quite satisfied that the haunting was founded on fact, and he determined to make another visit in the winter season. Whether he ever will or not becomes doubtful, for I learn from the clergyman already mentioned that the people have deserted the house, and Clamps-in-the-Wood is now left to the lights and to ruin. Whether these Berg-Geister may continue their visits to the deserted hearth is equally doubtful; for it must be as cold and cheerless as their own mines, which extend horizontally far into the [sides?] of the neighbouring hills.
But we must not quit Clamps-in-the-Wood without remarking on two or three particulars in this singular narrative which are important. As to the apparition of the lights, that has been a matter of assertion for more than half a century. They were so frequent that the old man, Clamps, had grown attached to them, and many other persons had seen them. They were a settled fact all over the neighbourhood, except among the classes who have been systematically educated to ignore such phenomena and to deny their existence on the authority of their own ignorance instead of their own rational enquiries. The old woman had never probably heard of such a country as Germany, much less of its Berg-Geister in her life, yet her accounts most curiously agree with the statements of thousands of German miners.
She had never heard of such a thing as Modern Spiritualism, or spirit-rapping, yet she had had spirit-rapping going on for years in her cottage, and knew by experience that it announced the presence of the spirits of the mine.
In her own person, she exhibited the regular operation of well-established spiritual laws. She was undoubtedly a medium, or, as Reichenbach would term it, a sensitive. She saw the lights before her daughter and son-in-law, and, according to universal human practice, was ridiculed for asserting what she saw. She prayed that her son-in-law and daughter might have their eyes opened to see, and her prayer was heard. But the old woman, who was a hale, hearty, clear-headed old soul of perhaps sixty-five, became further developed, and saw not only the lights but the spirits in them, which her son-in-law and daughter never did see, not being equally open to spiritual impressions. Nor did they ever pretend to see more than the lights, though they boldly and invariably asserted their frequent sight of them. In all their statements to the clergyman, to myself, to the captain, their account was uniform and the same.
As to magic-lanterns, I believe there was no such thing within many miles, except it might be in possession of Mr Watts Russell, of Ilam, or of the clergyman in question. And as to any one wanting the house over the head of the occupants, the very idea was ridiculous, as it was occupied by one of the labourers of the gentleman farming the property, and lies so drearily, so lonely, and so out-of-the-way, that, independent of its reputation as a haunted spot, it was so little desirable as an abode, that its late tenants have deserted it. Whether it will become the subject of further investigation, or whether the former conditions necessary to such investigation remain, are all doubtful; it is therefore to be regretted that a proper enquiry was not instituted by the educated people of the neighbourhood years ago, when enquiry was so easy, and might have been pursued to any length. What we know of this case, however, is curious, as affording confirmation to like cases on the Contenent, which have been asserted as positive facts for many generations.
In the “Facts” – Thatsacken – given at the end of the “Seeress of Prevorst,” in the original German edition, in “Fourth Fact,” is mentioned a spirit often appearing at the house of a watchman at Weinsberg, quite black, and the watchman’s wife said to Dr. Kerner, “There often shines out of the wall by night a lustre, round as a plate, and then disappears behind the wall again.” This is strikingly like the light, and the manner in which it appeared to Captain D—.
In the “Fifth Fact,” another spirit appeared to Madame Hauffe, with its head surrounded by a glory of light. In a case occurring at Ammersweiler, five hours’ journey from Weinsberg, a spirit used to appear, the face of which emitted a light that illuminated everything in the room; but the rest of the figure appeared only as a grey vapoury column. In another part the same series of “Facts,” in the prison at Weinsberg, a spirit for some time went about a particular room, with a star on his breast as large as a man’s hand. The figure itself was like a shadow. In various places of the same work spirits came attended by a crackling noise, and with flashes of light, very much like those whose experience is related by Mr Coleman in his “American Experiences,” in the case of the wealthy banker, L—, and his deceased wife, Estelle, and Dr. Franklin.
Captain D— was informed by the inmates at Clamps, that the light was often seen in dark nights by people going past from the mines, shining out of the top of the chimney
in The Spiritual Magazine, October 1862, Volume III, No. 10, pp. 450-459.
William Howitt was interested in Spiritualism and wrote about spiritual subjects: I can’t help but think this is a true reflection of something he investigated, and that his friend Captain D— existed and went up there.
In ‘The Pioneers of the Spiritual Reformation – William Howitt and his work for spiritualism’, by Anna Mary Howitt Watts (i.e. his daughter), published 1883, the account above is abridged, and (page 289) Captain D— is named as Colonel Drayson, R.A. (Alfred Wilks Drayson). It seems that Drayson was a friend of Arthur Conan Doyle and also interested in spiritualism.
I’ve found the following in “Chambers’s Journal of Popular Literature, Science and Arts” vol. 2, issue 80 (July 8th, 1865). So given the type of journal it is, perhaps it is an elaboration / reworking of Howitt’s article for entertainment. One wonders, perhaps by Howitt himself, but I can’t be sure, given that some of the details are copied exactly, but others not quite accurately, from the foregoing article, and I think he would have stuck to the facts (which are possibly more interesting). It seems to be an amalgamation of the two men’s experiences, I suppose to make it more digestible and readable.
A Night At Clamps-in-the-Wood.
In the present age, when we hear so much about the supernatural, and are informed by a host of witnesses that certain wonderful phenomena can be induced by fulfilling the requisite conditions, it is interesting to examine, when possible, those statements or assertions which seem to indicate that spontaneous mysteries, if we may so term them, occur in various places, or, in other words, that unaccountable facts take place, or are believed by certain persons to take place.
There is, we believe, no subject which requires a more dispassionate or searching inquiry than this so-called Supernatural; and the person making it should be as much like a machine, bodily and mentally, as it is possible to make himself. We all know how often our senses may be deceived, or at least one or two of them, and thus we should hesitate before we express an opinion, when the facts seem to tend to the unusual. We have but to look through a stereoscope, and to there see the really flat surface resolved into foreground and distance, to be aware that, had we not the sense of touch, by means of which we can test that our sight is temporarily deceived, we might conscientiously assert that the photograph at which we were looking was a statuesque production, standing out from the paper, and not a mere representation of light and shade.
The ghostly effect of the plate-glass image, again, proves to us that one sense alone is not always to be trusted, but must be kept in check by others. When, however, we bring our five senses to bear upon a subject, it is difficult for us to say whether or not these have been all deceived, for if we grant the possibility of such an event, we must also allow that some doubt must exist as to our own tangibility or identity, for we have no other means of judging as to the substances and events around us than by the five senses with which we are provided.
In addition, however, to the care necessary to guard against a too complete dependence upon any one sense, we must, to be competent investigators, be free from that prejudice which too often induces us to form an opinion very hastily from a slight examination of facts; whilst another equally prejudiced person would come to a directly opposite conclusion, though a witness only to those facts which we also had seen. Again, we should avoid examining any evidence when our object is mainly to prove, or to disprove, according as we wish the result to be. Upon the whole, therefore, it may with truth be asserted, that an impartial investigator, especially on subtle phenomena, is very rarely to be found.
Having, then, a due diffidence as regards the infallibility of the senses with which nature had endowed us, but having tested the capacity of these in various parts of the world, and found that they might usually be trusted, we somewhat eagerly listened to the account of a friend who informed us of strange sights and sounds, mysterious nightly visitations, and other wonders, which were said to take place at a ruined farmhouse, part of which was inhabited, situated in one of the wildest glens in Derbyshire, and entitled ‘Clamps-in-the-wood.’
It was a dull January day that we were deposited at the village of Ashbourne, in Derbyshire, and the cold fog seemed to penetrate ruthlessly through the thick overcoat with which we were provided. The nearest hotel to the scene of our investigation was distant from Ashbourne about five miles, and a vehicle having been hired, we were in the space of about one hour deposited at the door.
A visitor during the dreary season of January was rare in this locality; the summer, with its bright warm days and trout-fishing, being considered more attractive. One always finds a welcome in an inn, however, and so we were soon at home, sipping a quiet glass of wine by the fire. We had, however, a work to perform, and we were busily engaged in planning how the first sod was to be turned. Strolling down the passage that led to the landlord’s parlour, we asked and obtained permission to enter, and then found ourselves in the presence of the landlord and his wife, the village schoolmaster, a butler or responsible servant of the squire’s, and another man, whose occupation seemed to be ‘promiscuous’. A little awkwardness at first prevailed, until we frankly stated that we did not like smoking in the parlour, so would take our pipe where we were, if there was no objection. In ten minutes we were all at home, and our train was ready to be fired, and our information illuminated.
The friend from whom we had heard of ‘Clamps’ had stayed at the hotel, and seemed deservedly popular. Having heard his praises sounded, we were at length asked how he was. ‘Quite well,’ we replied, ‘but rather curiously engaged, as we believe he is collecting ghost-stories.’ Now this, although not strictly correct, had a foundation, and a good one, on truth, and served to answer the purpose we had in view. Two of the company rose to our cast more quickly than would the least cautious trout at a fly in the stream below.
“Ghost stories! Then he ought to come to Clamps-in-the-wood; he’d have enough of them there.” “Clamps-in-the-wood!” we replied; “what is that?”
“You tell the gent,” said the landlord, referring to the butler. “I’d rather hear the schoolmaster,” was the reply. “Oh, I don’t believe a word about it,” was the response of the pedagogue. “And I don’t know what to say,” said the landlord; “for I’ve heard from so many people who have seen it, that I don’t know what to think.”
“But what is there to be seen?” was our inquiry. “You tell, Joe,” was the address to the unknown man; “you’ve been there lately.”
“I’d as lieve be excused, and should like to hear Muster (the landlord) tell us, for he knows all about it.” Thus called upon, the landlord commenced his tale.
“Well, sir, there’s an old, half-ruined house about two miles from here, called “Clamps,” and living there is an old woman, her daughter, and son-in-law; there’s besides two or three young children. The place is very lonely and out of the way – a regular desolate place. For some years, the old woman used to see of a night strange-looking figures come in through the wall, and sink down through the floor; there used to be loud, heavy knocks heard at the same time, and the figures always seemed to be carrying lights. For a time, both the daughter and son-in-law laughed at this statement, though they, too, heard the noises, though they didn’t see the figures; but after a bit, both of them saw just what the old woman did, and precious frightened they were, till they found no harm came to them. Then the figures seemed to be making signs, but this none of the three could stand, so they’d shut their eyes. Now, this has been going on a long time, and puzzles people amazingly.”
“But is it only the three residents who see these figures?” we inquired. “O dear, no, sir; lots of people hereabouts have been there, and some see them – some don’t.”
“Do some see them at the same time that others who are present do not?” we asked. “That I can’t say for certain, sir,” was the unsatisfactory response.
“What object can these people have for telling these stories?” we asked. “None at all, sir; and they’d give anything to be free of these figures and lights.” “Well, I’ve heard a good deal about it, but I don’t believe a word,” was the assertion of the schoolmaster. “You’ve never been there of a night,” said Joe ironically. “No; nor I ain’t going to be made a fool of.” “Then you speak by guess like, and don’t know whether it be true or not.”
On the following morning, we started in search of Clamps; and after a somewhat damp journey, discovered the half-ruined house, situated in a wild out-of-the-way place. Having examined the building from the exterior, we took advantage of a slight shower to knock at the door, and to obtain permission to enter, and rest for a while. The interior of the domicile was anything but inviting. Two rooms on the ground-floor, and a sort of loft above, were the inhabited portions of Clamps. The lower floors being of stone, gave a cold appearance to the rooms, which was not in any way relieved by the furniture, all being of the most primitive description. The live-stock in the house consisted of an old woman, whose appearance was scarcely preposessing; her daughter; and two or three children.
Having taken a seat on a rough chair, placed beside the wood-embers that did duty for fire, we remarked to the ancient beldam that the situation was lonely, but pretty, probably, in summer. This remark had the effect of the most apt leading question, and brought forth a regular budget of information. “Lonely, sir! yes it be lonely; but I wish sometimes it was lonelier, that I do. You don’t know, sir, what we’ve suffered here for years now. We’re marked people, and has to do something, but we don’t know what. I’ve tried to get the clergy to help me, but they don’t seem to know what to do, and oftentimes don’t believe me. I’d a thought it was my fancy, like, that heard and saw these things, if my daughter and her man hadn’t seen them too, and many people besides.”
“But what do you see and hear?” was our inquiry. “Well, that I don’t know. I don’t know what to call them; but they are dark figures, carrying lights in their hands, and other things too. They come when it’s night, and make signs to me as if they wanted something, and then they goes down in the ground.” “And do you see them too?” we asked of the robust daughter. “I do, sir,” was the reply; “and till I got accustomed to them, I was very frightened; but they don’t do us no harm, and so I ain’t afraid now.” “Have you never spoken to them, or tried to make signs to them, to find out what they wanted.” “That I wouldn’t dare do, sir: I’ve heard it’s dangerous, and I might get a hurt if I did so.” After hearing various details from both women, we inquired whether people who came to see ever had their curiosity rewarded; and upon receiving an answer in the affirmative, we immediately asked permission to come that evening, for the purpose of seeing the dark figures.
Upon ascending the narrow pathway through the wood, we met a countryman, who, touching his cap, gave us at once an opportunity for inquiries. We then ascertained that he was the son-in-law of the ancient dame, and having for a long time ignored the idea of the dark figures and lights, was at length almost frightened to death by finding them enter the room one evening where he was sitting alone. Since that time, he had very often seen them, and had now, like his wife, become used to them.
The surprise of the worthy landlord was great when we informed him that we purposed passing a night at Clamps-in-the-wood. But having taken a good dinner, provided ourselves with a flask, and a small dagger in case of accidents, we started off about dusk on our expedition in search of a ghost. The fog on the hills was so dense, that we failed to keep the indistinct path that led into the wood, and narrowly escaped climbing over a wall, and dropping on the opposite side, some forty feet; but the house was at length reached, and we there found the two females and the man sitting round the fire. Upon joining the party, we commenced a course of cross-questioning, endeavouring to shake the evidence which had been independently given us in the morning; but without effect. We also found that the visit of the ‘lights,’ &c., was a great source of annoyance to these people, and they believed their health suffered in consequence. No object was apparent for these statements being made, supposing them to be untrue; and the consistency of these illiterate and evidently obtuse people in their evidence was particularly marked.
Upon entering the room, we had placed an extra overcoat on a table at some distance from the fire; and whilst conversing with the man, a slight noise attracted our attention to this coat, when instantly, as though snatched, it slipped off the table on to the floor. “Horse-hair or wire,” immediately occurred to us; so we took up the coat, examined it carefully, and replaced it in its original position, taking care that the whole coat should lie on the table, to avoid slipping. Scarcely had we retaken our seat, before the coat again fell to the ground. The old woman now volunteered the remark that this had something to do with the figures. Again was the coat replaced, when it remained obedient to the usual laws of matter.
As the hour of midnight approached, we desired to be left alone, and after some persuasion, got rid of the old woman and her daughter; of the son, however, we failed to obtain the absence; but as in half an hour he was sound asleep, we were not much disturbed by his presence. We had drawn a heavy kind of bench on to the stone, into which, we were informed, the figures disappeared, so that if the dark gentlemen with the lights sank therein, they would have actually to touch us. A slight flickering light was given out by the wood-embers from the fire – just enough to reveal the various objects in the room. Two distinct nasal performances were going on in the loft above, whilst our companion also gave evidence that the god of sleep must be obeyed.
Fully an hour passed without sign of aught; still we were watchful, and ready either to see a fact or detect a fraud. Suddenly, the leaf of the table on which our coat was lying moved up at about an angle of thirty degrees, and again descended; we waited for a repetition of this movement, but finding, after a lapse of several minutes, that all was quiet, we lighted a small piece of taper, and examined the said table-leaf, but could detect no means by which the movement had been made.
Again an interval of repose, followed by several dull, muffled sounds, like a drum gently beaten. To state where these noises came from, was impossible: now they seemed in the wall close to us, then outside the house, and at a distance; then, again, they seemed on the floor; then underground. For fully ten minutes these noises were audible, and certainly were puzzling, for though apparently unmeaning, yet they seemed to move here and there, and to alter their characteristics, as though guided by an intelligence. During the continuation of these noises, our attention was attracted to the solid-looking door, upon which a curious effect was visible. At about five feet from the ground, and close to the door, a dim light appeared, like that exhibited by a moderator lamp turned down to its lowest power; the light, however, was shaded off into darkness without a cut shade, the centre of the light being the more intense. For about ten seconds this was visible, when it seemed to die away as though absorbed by the darkness.
Immediately this object disappeared, we walked to the door, scratched a mark with our dagger at the spot on which we had seen the light. The door we found locked on the inside, the key being in the lock: this key we placed in our pocket, and reseated ourselves on the bench. Slowly passed the remainder of the night, until the first faint streaks of daylight roused the females, and brought them down stairs, after which we prepared to take our departure.
Before leaving, however, we inquired particularly from the old woman as to the nature of the lights she usually saw; and although her description did not tally with that which we have given, yet there was a similarity between the two. She was evidently disappointed that we had not seen more during our nocturnal vigil, but assured us that if we stopped on watch another night, we should surely see the figures as well as the lights, as those who were ‘patient’ always did see.
Daylight having now arrived, we examined the door on which we had scratched. It was of solid wood; no artfully-cut trap or opening was there, good old English oak being the material. Our next investigation was directed to the table, the leaf of which had swung up and remained stationary for some seconds. There, also, we failed to detect any artificial means by which the movement had been made; and so, registering the observed facts in our memory, we thanked the trio for their night’s lodging, and departed.
Alas! we were the slaves of time; we were compelled to leave the neighbourhood on the day after our night-watch, and we could not therefore pursue our inquiries further. Since that period, we have not had an opportunity of visiting the neighbourhood, and therefore Clamps-in-the-wood remains to us a mystery. Our own conclusions or opinoin on the observed facts would be valueless to the reader; we can merely state that we have recorded events as they occurred; and the steps we took to prevent either delusion or being tricked without detection, were such as we have found to amply detect some of the performances of our most apt conjurors. We have merely given a genuine detail of our experiences at Clamps-in-the-wood, leaving the reader to form his own conclusions therefrom.
On pages 771/2 of the ‘History, Gazetteer, and Directory of Staffordshire’ by William White (1834) it’s said:
WETTON is a small village, in a romantic part of the Moorlands, 2 miles W. of Alstonfield, and 8 1/2 miles E. of Leek, near the place where the rivers Hamps and Manyfold pursue their subterraneous channels under the rugged limestone rocks; but in rainy seasons the water does not all pass under ground, but part of it may be seen flowing through the deep valleys.
[…] Near Casterton, on the S.E. side of the parish, is Clamps-in-the-Wood,a farmhouse embowered within the windings of a circular hollow in the hills, and secluded, like the happy valley of Rasselas, from the rest of the world.
[ Under the list of ‘Farmers’ is Clamp John, (Ith’ Wood).]