A Somersetshire Mystery.
For the last few days the good people of Yatton have been in such a state of open-mouthed amazement relative to certain peculiar goings on in their midst, that had the heights of Cadbury suddenly betaken themselves to Lower Claverham, or Cleeve Toot reared its dizzy summit in Kenn Marshes, the astonishment could scarcely have been exceeded. They have discovered that a mysterious agency is at work in their parish, and high and low, clergy and laity, have as yet been unable to explain the matter.
On the road leading from Yatton to Cleeve, and not far from Hollow Mead, is a detached cottage, inhabited by a family named Beacham, and it appears that a few nights ago one of the children, a little boy, was heard by his parents, whilst in bed, making a noise as if driving away a cat or dog. He complained that something was scratching at the bed clothes, and a search was made for the intruder, but its whereabouts was not apparent.
On the following night the scratching was continued, and now a loud rapping succeeded, that was plainly heard by all in the house. Puzzled as to the reason of the noises, the Beachams mentioned the subject to the neighbours, and they having visited the premises, heard the noise likewise, and, after a rigid investigation, acknowledged themselves unable to solve the mystery.
As might be expected, an affair of this nature soon spread through the village, and crowds flocked together to listen to the raps, which became louder and louder. Nor was the excitement confined to the humbler class, for the vicar of the parish, the Rev. H. J. Barrard, and Mr Hurd, amongst others, proceeded to the spot, and having listened to the rappings and scratchings, confessed themselves in the dark as to the reason for the disturbance.
On Sunday, to crown the ghostly noises, shrieks and wild laughter were heard, while the raps continued unabated. One peculiarity in this matter is that the sounds are more frequently heard in the morning than at night, and before breakfast time the cottage is filled by startled villagers, who listen to them with breathless astonishment. It is almost needless to add that the dwelling has been well searched, and there being no other house near, the difficulty of accounting for the manifestation is increased.
Sometimes there will be heard a sharp series of raps resembling the clapping of hands, and then the sounds will seem to be like violent blows struck with a stout stick, and the scratching prevails constantly.
The affair somewhat resembles that referred to in an old ballad:- There’s a going before, and a coming behind, And a following slowly after; A looking for what we ne’er shall find, And shouts of unearthly laughter.
The boy with whom the matter commenced is regarded with mingled feelings of awe, pity, and dread, as in some measure the cause of the uproar, and sure enough where he is, although narrowly watched, it would quite idle to exclaim, ‘Cease dat knocking.’
Old ghost stories almost fogotten are now once more rife in Yatton and its vicinity, and relations of the marvellous prevail at every fireside. The rural population for many miles round have suddenly become decided converts to spirit-rapping, and would, doubtless, consider the Davenport tricks as evidence of supernatural agency.
Bristol Mercury, 21st January 1865. (and reprinted in many other papers)
The Yatton Ghost.
To the Editor of the Bristol Mercury.
Sir – Observing in the Mercury of last week an article headed “Mysterious Knockings at Yatton,” in which my name was coupled with that of the Rev. H. J. Barnard as believing these knockings, rappings, &c., to arise from some supernatural agency, permit me to say I have never visited the house for the purpose of discovering these disturbances. Believing there never was an effect without a cause, I have not the slightest doubt that had I the time to spare I could unravel the mystery that has so terribly scared so many of the good people of Yatton.
Yours respectfully, John Hurd, L.R.C.P. Ed. Yatton, Jan 27, 1865.
Bristol Mercury, 28th January 1865.
The Yatton Mystery.
The mysterious noises heard at the house of the Beachams at Claverham, Yatton, still continue to attract the attention of the gossips, not merely in the locality but in places at a distance, for hundreds have visited the scene of his gossipship’s operations from Bristol, Weston-super-Mare, Highbridge, Bridgwater, and other towns. One day a pleasure excursion was made from Portishead to the hamlet of Claverham, when a break full of individuals indulged in a fearful joy listening to the raps and scratches; and one lady of the party subsequently improved the occasion by delivering two lectures on the subject, in one of which she referred to a similar visitation at Plymouth that she could herself testify to.
The account of the Yatton knocking, as given in this paper a fortnight ago, having been copied into the metropolitan journals, the Beachams are now inundated with letters from different spiritual “experts,” who suggest all kinds of remedies for the removal of the inflence of the “hidden hand.”
Sherborne Mercury, 7th February 1865.
The Return of the Claverham Ghost.
As our readers will remember, there was a great sensation in Yatton and its neighbourhood some eight or nine months ago in consequence of it being bruited about that there was a house in the occupation of a labourer, of the name of Beacham, haunted by a ghost, every night and morning a most mysterious knocking and scratching being heard upstairs.
Hundreds of people visited Beacham for the purpose of hearing this wonderful ghost, but all at once his ghostship disappeared, to the great disappointment of many who felt very anxious to get some clue to the mystery. Nothing, however, has been seen or heard of it till within the last fortnight, when all at once the ghost paid Mr. Beacham another visit, and now the report goes that it is distinctly heard between seven and eight almost every night, and Mr. Beacham is once more visited by a large number of the inhabitants, who are more alarmed at the visit of the ghost now than before.
Bristol Mercury, 23rd December 1865.