there is something in it notwithstanding.

On the occasional nervous misgivings of unbelievers, an Italian heretic speaks, and to his own case in point."

"I do not wonder," he sets out, "that ordinary scatter-brained people, who never know their minds upon any question, should waver as to the truth or falsehood of supernatural visitations. Such people, naturally, doubt by day-light, and believe as soon as it gets dark. But why is it, that I, who wish to believe, and yet cannot,-who, for twenty years, have been dying to see a ghost, and am sure that I shall never see one as long as I live; why is it, that, under certain circumstances, I have been disquieted, when the subject has crossed my mind?”

Being quartered near Bologna, (he served probably in the army,) the same author meets with a real haunted house, and makes an experiment whether he can convince his nerves as well as his understanding. The precise character of the spectre whom he is to meet is not mentioned; but he goes to the untenanted mansion about eleven o'clock at night; the girls admiring his fearlessness; the young men enraged at his impudence; and the old people, of both sexes, somewhat displeased at his presumption !-Afterwards, he describes the manner in which he passed his time.

“Of course, I saw nothing. And I expected to see nothing, unless that some trick would be practised for the purpose of alarming me. But my night, notwithstanding, was far from being a pleasant one. I wished that something might appear to me; and yet, I was not at ease. I remained firm, so long as I kept my attention fixed upon the business in which I was engaged; but, the moment that the effort was relaxed, I became-not alarmed-but -uncomfortable. Strange thoughts forced themselves, whether I would or not, upon my mind; and, though I felt their folly perfectly, yet I could not shake them off. I wanted, after sometime, to fasten the door of the room in which I was sitting; and I found an unconquerable aversion come over me to rising from my chair. And the matter, (what was worse,) at one time, seemed to be getting worse every moment. I felt as though I should lose the full control of my senses. I

looked round the room a dozen times, and did not care to look the thirteenth. I tried to sing, and could not. I took up a book, which I had brought with me, but could not read three sentences together. Then I talked rapidly-any jargon-inwardly to myself;-tried to count,-to recollect verses," &c.

He goes through the affair, in the end, with extreme exertion and discomfort:-" And yet, had I been asked," he concludes, " at the time when I felt most distressed,-whether I had any thing to apprehend? I should have answered, most certainly, (even at the time,) that I had not.'

This man was the victim of a lively. imagination; and it is no more wonderful that he should have shrunk from a peril, which he knew existed only in his own fancy, than it would be if he had wept at reading a pathetic narrative, which he knew to be a fable. Besides, there are modes, and degrees and very different degrees, of what we call "belief."

It is difficult to dismiss entirely from the mind any matter, however apparently incredible, which has been positively stated as a fact. Juries very often find verdicts against the real weight of evidence in a case, because it cannot be shewn, to demonstration, that some single fact sworn to is a falsehood. That becomes a doubt, when the point is of life or death, which would be no doubt at all, upon a crisis. less terrific. And, admit but one shadow of a doubt in the mind of our Italian adventurer, and, at once,-fear apart,-you account for half his anxiety. Mere expectation-whether of good or evil-will be restless. Hope is every jot as great a trembler as alarm. A child cries even after it grasps the particular object which it has coveted. And the man who could not "read three sentences," when he was waiting to see whether he should see a ghost, would have been as much agitated, probably, if he had been waiting to see whether he had got the twenty thousand pound prize in the Lottery.

That there is much, too, as regards this subject, in the old argument of nursery education," cannot be deni

66

ed. Take notice how, with our nursery nervousness about apparitions, we retain also our nursery taste.

People are fond, (whether they believe it or not,) in general, of marvellous narrative; but, nine times in ten,

it must be the genuine narrative of the housemaid, or else it will hardly do. Fairy tales please; but (in England) they do not touch the soul. The German devilry suits us rather better; but even Germany lays the scene too much in the mountain and in the mine. In England, for a ghost story, we like an old garret,-say in Hatton Garden; with plenty of dust, rats, and mice, and a cockloft, or so, over ;-and, if a man has hanged himself in it, why, so much the better.

But the German terrible, besides that it wants this our national locus in quo, takes a course commonly that the English do not pleasantly fall in with. Almost all the northern legends set out with a man's taking the bounty money of the devil; so that we guess pretty well, in the beginning, how he is to be disposed of in the end. And we feel but little interest about a man, after he has made a bargain of this sort. He is above (or below) our sphere. As" the gods take care of Cato," so such a man becomes the protege of the nether powers. There is no hope of good fortune at all for him; and very little choice as to his fate. He must either be damned, as Shakespeare says, "for keeping his word with the devil;" or else, he must be damned "for cozening the devil." And, even where there is (as happens sometimes) a sort of point reserved; some plea of usury against the fiend, or coming out of the victim under the Insolvent Act, still we are not satisfied. There is a certain love of equity always present to the human mind. True, the contract is with the devil; but, we think, that even the devil should have his due.

Thus it is, that Faustus and Don Juan both come, dramatically, to the same end; but Faustus, upon the English stage, will never be interesting in any shape; while Juan is interesting in every shape, and in every country. There is the decided difference, in spirit, between the two characters. Faustus may make his bargain under pressure, but still he does make it; Juan never makes any bargain, and, (as we think,) would refuse to make one. Faustus seals his doom wilfully ; Juan judges ill. Faustus does not rise, either as to courage or talent, in our estimation, when he avails himself, and with his eyes open, of the assistance of the evil spirit; Juan is all energy, all force, and natural power; and the

very step which seals his destruction is the triumph of unshaken courage and misbelief.

In point of fact, however, nothing does tell in England like the regular Middlesex Ghost;-with the white shroud, and the pale face; and, if with a chain and a long beard, the more agreeable; and, above all, he should be silent. Indeed, it will be observed, that your spectre proper, is, by all accounts, naturally taciturn;-not speaking, in any case, until he is spoken to; -even female ghosts do this. And, I should say, indeed, that apparitions must be compelled to speak, even when accosted; and not merely permitted to do so, as has vulgarly been imagined. For your spectre, be it remarked, always loses ground the moment "he or she" opens "his or her" mouth. All our eminently successful stage ghosts have been either totally silent, or have discoursed only in monosyllables. The Castle Spectre, and the Bleeding Nun, always keep the galleries breathless. The statue in Don Juan steps upon the very marrow of his audiences. But Hamlet's ghost (in spite of the criticisms in the Spectator,) does now-adays very little;-one never is quite sure that he really is a ghost, until he disappears down the trap. And the only talking ghost I ever met with, at all effective, (even in the reading of,) is one in a play of Beaumont and Fletcher's, (The Lover's Progress,) where the master of an inn walks about after his death, singing, and seeing that his guests are properly attended to. But, apart from the feelings and tastes of others, to come for a moment to my own.-Touching the reality (as well as the amusingness) of spectral appearances, I protest, altogether, against being put down as a scoffer. I have my own personal cause of belief, and perhaps it may seem a peculiar one; but that lies entirely between me and my conscience. I will not believe, with Dr Johnson, upon the ground of "common credit," because I have known that credited by hundreds which Johnson himself would have rejected. People believed, only the other day, in the miraculous conception of Joanna Southcott;-people believed that Miss M'Avoy, of Liverpool, could see what was o'clock with her eyes shut;-there are people who believe that Prince Hohenlohe is able to work miracles; and that Mr Hume is a statesman, and

master of finance ;-so a truce to common belief, for ever, as an argument. Then the antiquity of an opinion (with me) will not go much farther than its common prevalence; for there have been ancient opinions, and very reverend ones, which have turned out to be mistaken. Other such opinions have grown weak, like wine, by over keeping. Lampridius tells us of Cauls, in his time, carried by advocates, and orators, and pleaders;-it being believed that they imparted such a power of persuasion to the wearer as no judge or tribunal, or assembly, could withstand. But it is well known, at the present day, that Cauls can do nothing but save people from being drowned; and even that fact may go near to be doubted in another century or two. Then, if neither our current opinion, nor ancient opinion, will help us in this strait, still less could I rely upon any thing in the shape of testimony. In the first place, we have had no "testimonies" at all—that is, none worth consideration-very lately; and, again, there was testimony, and plenty of it, to the cures of Cagliostro and Dr Loutherbourg. Besides, I never heard a story yet, which (faith set apart) was not capable of solution. Either the party who saw was mad, or asleep, or intoxicated, or he deceived himself, or he was deceived by others, or-and this last explanation is absolutely a cutting of the gordian knot -he lied. There is really more in this point, as Canton says, "than good people will think." I was reading over all the evidence in the famous Diamond Necklace case the other day; and I found it as impossible, in a great many statements, to get on without that solution, as Hannibal would have found it, in the Alps, to get on without vinegar. Again, I don't know of any really shrewd man, who has seen a ghost since the gas lights were introduced in our streets; no thief (before conviction); no resurrection man, or experienced Old Bailey counsel, has been so visited. I don't think Sir William Garrow ever saw a ghost. These spirits hate cross examination. Therefore, to prevent all mistakes, or after-claps, or jostlings in my belief, I have made up my mind to believe

upon a ground of my own; and I do believe, be it known by these presents

I believe-upon the mere probability of the fact!

And what a heaven-listen ye Pagans!-does such a faith open to its proselytes! the mind of a man who believes must be kept so constantly on the qui vive! not a door can bang upon its hinges in the dark, nor a cat squall in a gutter after twilight, but to him it is an object of deep-of vital -interest! the anxious curiosity which the living feel as to the condition of the dead, he (the believer) has hope, to say the least, of gratifying. While grovelling infidels must content themselves to know the present, he looks for intelligence, nay for counsel, as to the future.

Va tout cela, I protest I think we are almost as much indebted to the inventor of a new ghost story, as we should be to the man who could invent, in cookery, a new dish. And there is a world of veracious anecdote (too briefly given) in the old writers, which a hand that could command "the lie with circumstance," might, in detail, render irresistible.

What an admirable tale, for instance, might be constructed upon the legend of the Sunday evening card party; when, three persons being engaged at whist, a fourth (in black) is suddenly added to the company, who

takes the vacant chair and hand!

There is another Sunday evening anecdote, of a party (it was in Italy,) who were dancing; and found all at once, to their amazement, that they had two musicians instead of one. This intruder's character was discovered almost immediately, by the shape of the foot with which he beat time.

Pierre Loyer gives a third instance of a huge skeleton who suddenly appeared at a ball; to the consternation of dancers, musicians, and attendants. He came out from behind a door, where he was seen 66 footing it," for several minutes, to himself; and galloped "down the middle," with preternatural strength and velocity.*

It seems probable to me, however, that these three unbidden guests were not ghosts properly, or Revenans, but incarnations of the fiend in persona.

except one blind fiddler; so I hope accredited."

So Manlius tells us how four thieves, who were hanged in chains, became reanimated, and went in rich clothes, to visit a gentleman at his own house. Being strangers, they were invited to dinner, and sat down in form to table; but the moment grace was said (this ordeal, the devil probably had not adverted to) they fell down and became mere carcases, as before.

The same incapacity of the evil one to resist certain sounds and ceremonies, was attended in another case with more unhappy consequences. A decent woman in the Low Countries, who practised a little in sorcery, was returning home one evening upon the back of a demon, after a jollification; when, flying over a church (about two miles high) the chimes happened to play the hundredth psalm; upon which he (the demon) dropped her immediately, and she broke her bones by the fall. This woman probably owed her mischance entirely to having studied Don Calmet, who decries the broomstick, in his work, as a monture, infra dignitatem; but witches who take my advice will still adhere to the beThere has been no lady within my recollection, (since Mrs Thornton rode at York,) who could have mounted the devil, with any certainty of keeping her seat. A broomstick must be, I should think (to the prudent) a very pleasant, easy-going, Lord Mayor's sort of pad; and it has this peculiar advantage over a demon, that, if all Sternhold and Hopkins were performed in its hearing, the operation, as it cannot hear, would be entirely ineffective.

som.

Bodin thinks it possible that some spectres have appeared with dishonest views; and puts a case indeed in which a ghost becomes little better than a swindler. A comes to the bedside of B, and says "I am the ghost of your grandfather, who died last night; I am in purgatory; cause masses to be said to deliver me ;"-this A, all the while, being, in fact, no relation at all to B, but A himself a robber hanged three weeks before. This certainly, in a court of law, would be obtaining masses under false pretences; but Bodin doubts afterwards whether the apparition be really the spirit even of A, or whether it is not some devil, who, for his own purposes, takes the robber's shape. Writers, however, geVOL. XIV.

nerally, on this particular subject, are apt to differ in opinion. The same Bodin, speaking of certain feats performed by a jackass, near Milan, maintains that the performer must have been a man in the likeness of an ass; while Reginald Scot, noticing the suggestion, treats the matter in quite a different light; and says that Bodin must have been an ass, in the likeness of a man.

Be this, however, as it may, the devil is a rogue sometimes.—His attack upon the attorney (Field) at Shenley, was the most uncandid thing in the world. He went to Field as a client, and induced him to take an exorbitant fee. Now, besides that the exorbitant fee was all in Field's " vocation," the thing altogether is not fairly done. It is like the crimp's trick of slipping a shilling slyly into a man's pocket, instead of putting it, according to the statute, into his hand. So again in the case of the Irishman, who used to find roasted potatoes at night under his pillow. This is taking a man at his foibles.

A good stomach, by the way, seems pretty generally to have given hope to the tempter. William of Malmesbury, who is a great authority in matters of this nature, relates an instance of a monk who had something like a hearty appetite, and was very partial to a preparation, I believe, of hot grey pease. One day feeling a longing between breakfast and dinner,-here probably, lay the sin, luncheons, in a monk, being accounted a gluttony,lo! there came into his cell a beautiful

young lady, who lighted a fire in the grate; took some grey pease from a cupboard; dressed them to admiration; and disappeared, leaving them smoking. But the devil was cozened this time, and lost his pease and his labour to boot; for the monk, conquering his hunger until the hour of refection, went to his superior, and related the whole circumstance. Upon which the prior said -"Eat! for pease were made by God for man." And the monk did eat, and spared not, (taking care to say grace first,) and declared that he had never eat pease better cooked in his life.

The same writer, William of Malmesbury, relates another story, which might make a volume-of two women, mother and daughter, who kept an inn 4 M