The Ghosts of an Antiquary

M. R. James (1862-1936) is in my mind the greatest of all the ghost story writers. Nobody else can deliver a true shudder of grim terror like he did. His greatest collection was his first, The Ghost Stories of an Antiquary (1904). There were masterpieces that came after but the majority of his best are in this book. Not one of the eight is a dud. All have been anthologized endlessly over the years but have lost none of their effectiveness for that.

One of the secrets to James’ skill is that his ghosts are always hostile, virulently so. No gruff Canterville ghosts who eventually reform. No silly Jerome K. Jerome spoofs at Christmas. James’ ghosts are serious business. Part of this is due to the individual monstrosity of his fiends, not mere phantoms in elder dress. His ghosts are monsters in the truest sense.

James’ opens the book with “Canon Alberic’s Scrap-Book”. This tale has a manuscript hunter who happens upon a choice item only to find it comes with strings. The haunter of the book:

“In another infinitesimal flash he had taken it in. Pale, dusky skin, covering nothing but bones and tendons of appalling strength; coarse black hairs, longer than ever grew on a human hand; nails rising from the ends of the fingers and curving sharply down and forward, grey, horny and wrinkled. He flew out of his chair with deadly, inconceivable terror clutching at his heart. The shape, whose left hand rested on the table, was rising to a standing posture behind his seat, its right hand crooked above his scalp. There was black and tattered drapery about it; the coarse hair covered it as in the drawing. The lower jaw was thin – what can I call it? -shallow, like a beast’s; teeth showed behind the black lips; there was no nose; the eyes, of a fiery yellow, against which the pupils showed black and intense, and the exulting hate and thirst to destroy life which shone there, were the most horrifying features in the whole vision. There was intelligence of a kind in them – intelligence beyond that of a beast, below that of a man.” (“Canon Alberic’s Scrapbook” by M. R. James)

M. R. James’ first ghost story, written as a Christmas Eve treat for his fellow dons at the Chit-Chat Club. The reading of his ghost stories became a yearly tradition. M. R. James saw J. Sheridan Le Fanu as his master, taking from him the idea that a ghost should be felt before it is seen. That idea works well in this story.

The second tale is “Lost Hearts”. Mr. Abney, the sorcerer, has murdered two young children for their hearts for a spell of immortality. The souls of these children hover about his home before coming for revenge. He knows they are about because they scratch at the spot over the heart on his shirts. When he sees them:

“Whilst the girl stood still, half smiling, with her hands clasped over her heart, the boy, a thin shape, with black hair and ragged clothing, raised his arms[32] in the air with an appearance of menace and of unappeasable hunger and longing. The moon shone upon his almost transparent hands, and Stephen saw that the nails were fearfully long and that the light shone through them. As he stood with his arms thus raised, he disclosed a terrifying spectacle. On the left side of his chest there opened a black and gaping rent; and there fell upon Stephen’s brain, rather than upon his ear, the impression of one of those hungry and desolate cries that he had heard resounding over the woods of Aswarby all that evening. In another moment this dreadful pair had moved swiftly and noiselessly over the dry gravel, and he saw them no more.” (“Lost Hearts” by M. R. James)

One of James’ creepiest stories because the brazon disregard Mr. Abney has for his victims. Less brave writers would have made Abney a sociopath/lunatic and not had any ghosts.

“The Mezzotint” uses an old chestnut of Gothic fiction, the haunted painting. Mr. Brithnell, the owner of the artwork, gets a surprise when he purchases a mezzotint (old form of lithograph), which has figures that move and change in it. A terrible figure crawls toward the house, steals a child and crawls out. Brithnell finds out the place in the picture is Anningley Hall in Essex and that a terrible tragedy took place there. A poacher had stolen and murdered a child. The picture records the man’s guilt:

“…The picture lay face upwards on the table where the last man who looked at it had put it, and it caught his eye as he turned the lamp down. What he saw made him very nearly drop the candle on the floor, and he declares now that if he had been left in the dark at that moment he would have had a fit. But, as that did not happen he was able to put down the light on the table and take a good look at the picture. It was indubitable–rankly impossible, no doubt, but absolutely certain. In the middle of the lawn in front of the unknown house there was a figure where no figure had been at five o’clock that afternoon. It was crawling on all-fours towards the house, and it was muffled in a strange black garment with a white cross on the back.” (“The Mezzotint” by M. R. James)

James would later write pretty much the same story again for “The Haunted Doll’s House”, a tale written for Queen Mary’s doll house library. Famous authors such as Arthur Conan Doyle, A. A. Milne, J. M. Barrie, Thomas Hardy, Rudyard Kipling and Somerset Maugham all wrote short books to be include inside the doll’s house.

“The Ash-tree” was a departure for James. The ghosts in this story take a different form. The inhabitants of Castringham Hall in Suffolk turn mysteriously ill. Only when the ash-tree on the property is destroyed do they find the spider-like culprit and a mysterious skeleton.

“First, at the fork, they saw a round body covered with fire – the size of a man’s head – appear very suddenly, then seem to collapse and fall back. This, five or six times; then a similar ball leapt into the air and fell on the grass, where after a moment it lay still. The Bishop went as near as he dared to it, and saw – what but the remains of an enormous spider, veinous and seared! And, as the fire burned lower down, more terrible bodies like this began to break out from the trunk, and it was seen that these were covered with greyish hair.” (“The Ash-Tree” by M. R. James)

Ash-Tree Press of Ashcroft, British Columbia chose their name from this classic monster story. The BBC did a television version of this story here.

“Number 13” is atypical in that is takes place outside England. The Golden Lion Inn in Jutland, Viborg, Denmark has a ghost in Room 13, a room that appears only at night. No one is quite sure what the ghost looks like but he is noisy and thrashes about. There is a good chance it is the soul of Bishop Jorgen Friis, a sorcerer who sold his soul to the devil in 1726. You never really see the ghost, only its room:

“The men nodded, and the younger stepped forward, raised his crowbar, and dealt a tremendous blow on the upper panel. The result was not in the least what any of them anticipated. There was no cracking or rending of wood — only a dull sound, as if the solid wall had been struck. The man dropped his tool with a shout, and began rubbing his elbow. His cry drew their eyes upon him for a moment; then Anderson looked at the door again. It was gone; the plaster wall of the passage stared him in the face, with a considerable gash in it where the crowbar had struck it. Number 13 had passed out of existence. “ (“Number 13” by M. R. James)

James has a little fun poking at Ann Radcliffe: “…and Anderson’s thoughts, like those of Emily in the Mysteries of Udolpho, began to “arrange themselves in the following lines…” followed by florid verse.

“Count Magnus” is possibly James’ most famous story. See my article on how it influenced Cthulhu Mythos fiction here. Count Magnus is buried in the De la Gardie mausoleum where Mr. Wraxall foolishly summons him three times, freeing him from the three locks on his coffin. The Count is a sorcerer (now turned vampire) who made “The Black Pilgramage” and read all the forbidden books.

“The portrait of this Magnus de la Gardie was one of the best in the house, and Mr Wraxall studied it with no little interest after his day’s work. He gives no detailed description of it, but I gather that the face impressed him rather by its power than by its beauty or goodness; in fact, he writes that Count Magnus was an almost phenomenally ugly man.” (“Count Magnus” by M. R. James)

Count Magnus is buried in the De la Gardie mausoleum where Mr. Wraxall foolishly summons him three times, freeing him from the three locks on his coffin. The Count is a sorcerer (now turned vampire?) who made “The Black Pilgramage” and read all the forbidden books. He possessed a familiar as part of his deal with the devil.

His ghastly familiar is only vaguely described:

“The figure was unduly short, and was for the most part muffled in a hooded garment which swept the ground. The only part of the form which projected from that shelter was not shaped like any hand or arm. Mr Wraxall compares it to the tentacle of a devil-fish, and continues: ‘On seeing this, I said to myself, “This, then, which is evidently an allegorical representation of some kind–a fiend pursuing a hunted soul–may be the origin of the story of Count Magnus and his mysterious companion.” (“Count Magnus” by M. R. James)

“Oh, Whistle and I’ll Come to You, My Lad” is another influential tale. Professor Parkins goes for a holiday by the sea and finds an old whistle in a Templar ruin. After he blows the whistle he has a strange vision then a weird feel of something approaching. Being entirely a practical person he ignores this until the sheets on his bed form into a terrible form and attack him.

“I can figure to myself something of the Professor’s bewilderment and horror, for I have in a dream thirty years back seen the same thing happen; but the reader will hardly, perhaps, imagine how dreadful it was to him to see a figure suddenly sit up in what he had known was an empty bed. He was out of his own bed in one bound, and made a dash towards the window, where lay his only weapon, the stick with which he had propped his screen. This was, as it turned out, the worst thing he could have done, because the personage in the empty bed, with a sudden motion, slipped from the bed and took up a position, with outspread arms, between the two beds, and in front of the door. Parkins watched it in a horrid perplexity. Somehow, the idea of getting past it and escaping through the door was intolerable to him; he could not have borne–he didn’t know why to touch it; and as for its touching him, he would sooner dash himself through the window than have that happen. It stood for the moment in a band of dark shadow, and he had not seen what its face was like. Now it began to move, in a stooping posture, and all at once the spectator realized, with some horror and some relief, that it must be blind, for it seemed to feel about it with its muffled arms in a groping and random fashion. Turning half away from him, it became suddenly conscious of the bed he had just left, and darted towards it, and bent over and felt the pillows in a way which made Parkins shudder as he had never in his life thought it possible. In a very few moments it seemed to know that the bed was empty, and then, moving forward into the area of light and facing the window, it showed for the first time what manner of thing it was. Parkins, who very much dislikes being questioned about it, did once describe something of it in my hearing, and I gathered that what he chiefly remembers about it is a horrible, an intensely horrible, face of crumpled linen. What expression he read upon it he could not or would not tell, but that the fear of it went nigh to maddening him is certain.” (“‘Oh, Whistle, And I’ll Come To You, My Lad'” by M. R. James)

This classic story inspired Fritz Leiber’s similar ghost “The Pale Brown Thing” (Fantasy & Science Fiction, January-February 1977) novelized as Our Lady of Darkness (1977).

“The Treasure of Abbot Thomas” is both a mystery and a terror tale in the tradition of Edgar Allan Poe. Mr. Somerton figures out the byzantine mystery of old Abbot Thomas and locates the treasure in the well. Upon opening the side of the well he discovers the priest has not left the treasure unguarded, as leathery arms wrap around his neck. He manages to break free but feels an eldritch pursuit by the creature. The rising sun dispels the curse.

“‘Well, I felt to the right, and my fingers touched something curved, that felt–yes–more or less like leather; dampish it was, and evidently part of a heavy, full thing. There was nothing, I must say, to alarm one. I grew bolder, and putting both hands in as well as I could, I pulled it to me, and it came. It was heavy, but moved more easily than I had expected. As I pulled it towards the entrance, my left elbow knocked over and extinguished the candle. I got the thing fairly in front of the mouth and began drawing it out. Just then Brown gave a sharp ejaculation and ran quickly up the steps with the lantern. He will tell you why in a moment. Startled as I was, I looked round after him, and saw him stand for a minute at the top and then walk away a few yards. Then I heard him call softly, “All right, sir,” and went on pulling out the great bag, in complete darkness. It hung for an instant on the edge of the hole, then slipped forward on to my chest, and put its arms round my neck .” (“The Treasure of Abbot Thomas” by M. R. James)

This weird mystery inspired another Mystery author, John Dickson Carr. His novel Hag’s Nook (1933) reads like an alternative ending complete with Ann Radcliffe style explanations for the supposed supernatural elements. The James story was done on British TV in 1974.

 

Thanks to Jim McArthur, Rosemary Pardoe and Frank Badger for the corrections. My memory ain’t what it was. GW