A ‘Varsity Ghost which keeps rooms empty at Cambridge.
Successful seance.
A ghost face to face with the necessity of choosing a habitation might conceivably be torn with conflicting emotions when considering the pros and cons of choosing a dwelling in an ancient University. On the one hand the respectable traditions, the congenial mouldiness, the society of the dons, the calm of the Long Vacation; on the other hand, the incurably high spirits of the undergraduates and their propensity of larking. Should the ghost have finally decided upon University life it might be expected that he would lean towards Oxford, both as being more ancient and less prone to studies of exactitude and research. But while Oxford is spectre-less, Cambridge is in possession of a real ghost.
There are two sets of rooms on B staircase in Corpus College, Cambridge, which have had for many years the unenviable reputation of being “haunted.” The rooms are one above the other, each set consisting of a sitting-room and bedroom, but in the lower set, where the more recent manifestations have taken place, there is, in addition, a smaller room – now used as a boxroom – which at one time has done duty as a chapel. For many years there have been tales of the kind commonly prevalent of rooms that are supposed to be haunted; stories of footsteps heard in the sitting-rooms, sounds as of furniture being moved, tappings and rappings on the walls, and there is even a tale told of a bodyless head seen by a don.
There were, of course, very easy and plausible explanations, the roaring of fire, the expansion and contraction of the kitchen chimney (the kitchen is situated immediately below the rooms in question), the scraping and running of rats, the wear and tear of heavy reading on a tired brain; all well enough reasoned to convince the most timid, but all insuficient to induce anyone to remain in the rooms for long.
In October, 1903, a Mr Milner came up as an undergraduate to Corpus College, and was shown the lower set of rooms on B staircase. He was very pleased with them, and although he was warned that there were stories of curious noises and happenings, he decided to take them. The upper set was also occupied at that time. Immediately on Mr Milner coming into residence the unaccountable noises of knockings and furniture moving began, and continued with more and more violence and frequency.
About six months after, in the early part of 1904, one afternoon about three o’clock, another undergraduate who had chambers facing the “haunted rooms” happened to look across the court and saw a strange, gaunt face looking down at him from the sitting room of the upper set. Later in the day, meeting the owner of the rooms, he was intensely surprised to learn that not only had there been no visitor, but that it was impossible that anyone could have entered the rooms that afternoon.
A little later the owner of the lower set of rooms was awakened about four in the morning, and to his horror perceived at the foot of the bed a white-sheeted figure, which moved off towards the sitting-room door. He rose at once and made a rapid search, but found not a trace of the intruder, though the outer door was locked and egress by the window was impossible.
A few nights later Mr Milner heard the knocking noises louder than ever before, and feeling naturally a little overstrung, went round to a friend’s rooms to talk it over. He was offered a shake down in his friend’s sitting-room, but declined, and went back to his own rooms. Directly he entered them he saw the shape of a man standing in the centre of the room. He gave up the rooms next day.
At that time there were a small set of men at King’s College who were interested in psychic phenomena and the study of the occult, and a party of six was arranged to hold a seance in the “haunted” room. After the usual preliminaries the ghost was commanded to appear. Of those present only two saw anything, and both tell the same tale, each account agreeing precisely in all particulars. First a wreath of mist or fog was seen, which gradually increased in volume, and then concentrated into an appearance of a long white sheet, above which appeared a head, the throat gashed, the face white, gaunt, and malevolent, with eyes blazing with hatred.
The two men endeavoured to get near the figure, but found it impossible; a force seemed to radiate from the spirit which they were unable to overcome. One of them said afterwards: “It was exactly as if I were being pushed back: try as I would I was powerless to get nearer.”
On another occasion the planchette was used. The information derived was somewhat curious, but not very enlightening. A few messages were written down, some of them, it is said, of a threatening nature, and a name and date, with a statement that the individual mentioned had committed suicide in the rooms in 1707. No trace of the name appears on the college books, nor was any such name known to anyone present.
Such are the facts of the Corpus College “Ghost.” Sceptics there are many and reasons and explanations in plenty, but the rooms remain empty, and although they are Dons’ rooms and about the best sets in the college, for years no Don has used them. Occasionally a visitor is put up there for a night, but no one can be got to keep the rooms for any length of time. – London Evening News.
Belfast Telegraph, 11th November 1905.