A Greenwich Ghost.
Strange statements about the noisy spirit of a murdered woman.
A remarkable “ghost” story comes from Greenwich. It appears that Mr Peter Bothwick, in the employ of the South Metropolitan Gas Company, had resided for three years with his family at 14, Horseferry-road, Greenwich, a four-roomed house. Mrs Bothwick had been troubled by hearing inexplicable noises, which her husband tried to explain away. The previous tenant, who occupied the house for 29 years, states that he never heard any noises, but his wife often complained to him that she heard any noises, but his wife often complained to him that she had heard sounds like children falling out of bed. About two years ago the Bothwicks were away from home, and a neighbour states that during their absence he heard loud rappings in the house.
Twelve months later, in July, 1888, Mr Bothwick was in the country for a holiday, and on the 25th there were in the house Mrs Bothwick, Mrs Stedman, and Mrs Lloyd. At ten minutes to eleven these three were in the back sitting-room, which is divided from the passage by a wooden partition running to the top of the house, when they heard three hard blows, as of a man’s fist, on the cellar door. Much alarmed, they rushed off to bed and heard no more that night. On Mr Bothwick’s return he put a new floor to the cellar, making it even with the passage.
All went well until July 25 of the present year, the anniversary of the former manifestation. At twenty minutes to ten at night there were in the house Mrs Bothwick and Mr and Mrs Lloyd, while Mrs Parkinson was in the next house adjoining the passage. The three persons first named heard three loud raps on the partition, and Mr Lloyd went out, but saw no one, and searched the cellar with a similar result. The rapping continued, sometimes appearing to be on the partition and sometimes under the third step of the stairs. It turned out that Mrs Parkinson was not the person rapping, and on Mr Lloyd giving a rap on the wall he was startled by hearing at the cellar door, close to his elbow, three knocks which shook the partition, and were almost sufficient to knock the cellar door down. He opened the door on the instant and searched the cellar, but found nothing.
He knocked again, and in reply there came three terrific knocks on the cellar door, which Mr Lloyd had just closed. He immediately opened it again, and nothing could be seen, although a lamp in the passage shone into the cellar. Shortly afterwards Mr Bothwick and Mr Parkinson, who had been out together, returned home. The knocking continuing, they made a careful inspection of both houses, but found nothing unusual.
Half an hour later two police officers arrived and stayed some time. The knocking continued as before, at one time on the cellar door, at another on the stairs or at different parts of the partition. The people who were in the house also state that they distinctly heard footsteps on the floor above the passage, but on going up could not see anyone. The police considered the matter a practical joke, but could not suggest how it was done. Meanwhile the knocking, which could be plainly heard on the other side of the road, had attracted a large crowd, and one of the men volunteered to communicate with the “spirit.” A conversation somewhat to the following effect ensued:
“Are you a man?” – No answer. “Are you English?” – Three raps, supposed to mean “Yes.” “Are you a woman?” – Three raps. “Are you in great trouble?” – Three raps. “Have the people in this house harmed you?” – No answer. “You are troubling this house a deal?” – Three raps. “Did your friends harm you?” – Three raps. “Did they kill you?” – Three tremendous raps.
Mrs Bothwick here exclaimed, “For gracious sake, let that man go away.” He remained, however, at Mr Bothwick’s wish, and continued the questioning, with the result that the interrogator pronounced that a woman was troubling the house on account of some crime committed many years ago. The “ghost” would not answer any frivolous questions, such as “Will you come out and have a drink with me?”
About midnight the knocking began to subside, and the crowd dispersed, but the Bothwick family would not go to bed. Mrs Bothwick lay on the bed for an hour or so with her clothes on, and Mr Bothwick sat on a couch till he went to work at six next morning, and two young men stayed with him. The rapping gradually died away, and ceased altogether at about one o’clock.
The Bothwicks determined not to remain in the house, and on the following Tuesday removed to 61, Haddo-street, sitting up on nearly all the intervening days until midnight. Two ladies who appeared to be interested in the subject of spiritualism called before they removed, and said they should have liked to hear the rappings. One of them said she did not suppose the “spirit” would trouble anyone till next year, but it might, as it had been spoken to.
Evening News (London), 10th August 1889.
Ghost or Potman? The Haunted House.
The very circumstantial account of the “Haunted House” at Greenwich given in some of the journals proves upon investigation to have been an early gooseberry- two months later would have ripened. The place is a small, unpretending four-roomed house in a shabby street, in a most uninviting neighbourhood. A correspondent of the Pall Mall Gazette travelled down to Greenwich and interviewed the premises.
In the house he found a painter at work, and the owner of the premises, a Mrs Ridgewell, who obligingly showed him over the house and the gruesome chamber wherein the ghostly visitor did the spiritual hammerings. This was simply a cellar beneath the stairs, empty but with an ominous black hole in the flooring, which hole was the place where the coals are kept.
“There’s no ghost,” said Mrs Ridgewell, “but Mr and Mrs Borthwick were scared out of their lives; it was just a practical joke by a potman, a friend of theirs. You’re not the first who’s been down here, no, sir; there’s a gentleman came down from Maskelyne and Cook’s, and wanted to hire the place for a month. I never seed such goings on; why, there was a mob of boys and men surrounded the house last night and broke some windows, and I sent for the police, and the inspector came, and says he to me, says he, ‘I never believed people could be such fools in this 19th century. Well, whether its haunted or not, the house is let, and the new tenants are coming in next Thursday. And the young gentleman from Maskelyne and Cook’s told me there was a haunted house that he once went to see – a house where there was always rappings going on of nights – and he discovered that a rat had had a wooden ball tied to its neck, and it just went lollopping up and down the place and scared the people dreadfully; but these noises here, I never heard them, but maybe it was the wind comin gin through the broken cellar window out there in the back yard, and that young gentleman said so too, and he’s going to write an article about it. You know it’s been blowing pretty hard lately anyway, the window will be mended to-morrow.”
Pall Mall Gazette, 14th August 1889.
A story of a haunted house at Greenwich develops a fresh situation. After having withstood the mysterious rappings, groans and rustlings for some weeks, the family in occupation, like that whic had tenanted the dwelling for ten years before them, were fairly driven off the premises, which were taken in charge by the police, who have been quite as puzzled as the doctors, pschycicists [sic] and plain citizens to account for the “manifestations” or to discover their origin.
But a tenant has turned up. A Mr Redwood saw the landlord last week, offered terms, and when the landlord hesitated, saying the house wanted some looking to before letting, explained that his eagerness to occupy it arose out of his interest in the supernatural, and that if the ghost was by any means evicted he should not covet the tenancy. In short, Mr Redwood had his way, and moved into possession on Monday last, with his wife, a lady of his own views.
Wexford People, 21st August 1889.
A Greenwich Ghost Story. Death from fright.
Mr Coroner Carttar and a jury held an inquiry into the death of Ann Georgina Hanks, aged 18, of 11 Frederick Street, Greenwich. The court was crowded, considerable interest being manifested in the proceedings on account of the rumour that the deceased girl had been frightened by ghostly signs. An extraordinary story was told to the jury by Mary Ann Robinson, Maxstead, aged 14, of 12 Wood Wharf, Greenwich, sister to the young man with whom the deceased was “keeping company.”
She said that on Wednesday evening last she went with the deceased to her bedroom. The witness carried a paraffin lamp. The deceased got an apron out of her box in the back bedroom, and with her left hand felt round the corners of the box. When she got to the last corner something like white thick smoke came up about six inches, startling the witness. When the smoke left her hand the deceased fell on the floor. When she moved her hand the smoke dispersed in front of the witness. There were light sparks in it. She called to her brother downstairs, but when he came the smoke had gone, where she did not see. She was frightened, and went downstairs with the light.
There was no noise when the witness saw the smoke, and no smell. She could not tell what it was. Evidence was given to how that shortly after falling to the ground the deceased started screaming, which continued for half an hour. She never spoke again or recovered consciousness, dying at half-past 11 on Saturday night. The coroner’s officer and another witness searched the box for anything to account for the alleged smoke, but could find nothing. The witness Maxstead’s brother said that next morning she told him of the fire in deceased’s left hand and of the cloud in front of her. He put down the cloud as a sign of death, but could not account for the fire. Asked by the coroner, “What put this in your head and your sister’s head?” Maxstead could not say, and the coroner remarked that there had been a story of a Greenwich ghost, which was said to have manifested itself at a house near where the deceased lived.
The jury returned a verdict of death from an epileptic fit.
Edinburgh Evening News, 19th September 1889.