Saturday Spooky

Here we are at the start of another month. The wind is blowing hard, the sky is dark and it is spotting with rain.

What better weather for a ghost story and, as I know, they are very popular with many of you, that is what I have decided to post today. So, have you a few minutes to spare, are you sitting comfortably……..?

Berkeley Square in London is best known to many for the

famous wartime song "A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square" . It is elegant and peaceful, well as peaceful as any square can be in this great Capital. People like to relax on its lawns or stroll around and in the evening many visit the casinos and clubs. It is a pleasant place to be espcially on a Spring or Summer day.

A hundred or more years ago, the story was different. There is a certain house in Berkeley Square, number 50 to be exact, that struck terror into people in those times. This house was supposed to hold a "fatal " room - supernaturally fatal to mind and body.

The owner of the house was a man called Mr. Benson and he had been plagued by strange noises and disturbances and word had spread. Sir Robert Warboys, a handsome man and something of an adventurer vowed to spend the night in the property to prove that the talk was complete and utter nonsense. Mr. Benson was very reluctant but Sir. Robert would not be dissuaded. Sir Robert did agree to carry a gun with him and also agreed that some friends and Mr. Benson would stand guard on the floor below the room where the aristocrat would sleep. He was instructed that if anything strange happened he was to pull the cord of the bell which hung in the room.

Dinner was eaten and Sir Robert retired sometime after eleven p.m. At first all was quiet but after about 45 minutes the bell began to jangle. The rescue party sped upstairs and as they did so they heard a shot. They burst into the room to find Sir Robert slumped across the bed, stone dead. But it was not a bullet that he killed him. His eyes were bulging from his head, his face contorted in a terrible grimace, his lips curled. The doctor who was summoned concluded that he had literally "died offright."

This really got tongues wagging and the next person to venture in to try his luck was Lord Lyttleton. He also requested that he beallowed to spend the night in the room where Sir. Robert had perished. He took along two guns, one filled with shot and the other with silver sixpenny pieces - silver is supposed to ward off evil spirits. During the night, he fired the gun containing the coins at a shape which leapt at him. He published his experience in a book he wrote in 1879 and it was him that decided that this particular room was "fatal." There were rumours that a little girl had been tortured and murdered in there, another story said a serving maid had committed suicide in the room at some time in the past.

People who were guests in the house had terrible things happen to them.  One female guest had been driven mad by terror. The maid of a visiting family was found slumped on the floor whimpering and imploring people "Do not let it touch me." She died later in hospital.

The house became vacant and stood that way for many years. This was strange in such a fashionable area as the square where properties were sought-after and commanded high prices. The paintwork peeled, the cobwebs gathered and the house kept its secrets to itself. But people passing by heard strange noises echoing from the deserted property, they saw strange lights flashing in the windows, heard  piercing screams and what sounded like a heavy body being dragged down the staircase. The house became an object of fear and horror.

It was December of 1877. The vessel "Penelope" arrived at Portsmouth, the crew went ashore and each man headed for home. Two sailors, Edward Blunden and Robert Martin arrived in London on Christmas Eve with hardly any money left and no lodgings for the night. They wandered the streets for some hours before finding themselves in the Square and noticing that outside No. 50 was a  "To Let" sign. As there was absolutely no doubt that the house was vacant they decided to gain entry and to spend the night there.

They wandered the deserted rooms until they came to a second-floor bedroom which seemed to be in a better condition than the others. Martin was soon sound asleep but his shipmate could not sleep and felt very nervous. He tossed and turned and heard strange footsteps and scratching noises outside their door. He wokehis friend and the two watched, hearts pounding, as the door slowly opened and something, large, dark and shapeless entered the room…..

Blunden darted towards the fireplace to grab something that he could use as a possible weapon. But as the shape chased the sailor, Martin sized the chance to escape through the open door. He ran down the stairs and began calling for help. In nearby Piccadilly, he blurted out his story to a policeman and the two men hurried back to the house.

They were too late. The shattered and broken body of Blunden, his face wearing a expression of unimaginable horror and fear was lying sprawled on the basement steps. Well, that is how the story goes. Other versions say that Blunden was found impaled on the railings. I do not know…… I am only the narrator of this eerie tale.

So many stories have arisen around this property. It is said that the house once belonged to a Mr. Du Pre who locked his lunatic brother up in one of the attics. He was so dangerous that he could not be approached and had to have his food passed into him through a hole in the door. His screams and moans and rantings are said to have been heard over the whole neighbourhood. Some say that it is his ghost that still haunts the place. On the other hand it is said that a certain gentleman was engaged to a great society beauty but that she jilted him just before the wedding. This turned his mind and he became a recluse wandering from room to room at night by the light of a candle and that he still continues to wander.

There is no doubt that something disturbing went on in number 50 Berkeley Square and it still does. Today it is the premises of antiquarian booksellers and has been so for over fifty years. On a normal Saturday morning in 2001 a gentleman employed by the company was working alone in the accounts department (the haunted room). Suddenly a column of brown mist appeared before his eyes and moved rapidly across the room before vanishing completely. That same year a cleaner was terrified because she had the feeling that someone or something was standing behind her. Another person had his spectacles snatched from his hand and flung to the ground as he was walking up the stairs.

A BBC television crew who visited, did not actually see anything but they felt scared and were truly glad when they were able to leave the room. It is said that the brickwork of the property is so charged with psychic energy that just touching it can give a mild shock to those who are sensitive to things of the supernatural.  Thankfully it is many many years since anyone has been driven insane or driven to their deaths.

Who or what is the nameless horror that haunts  No. 50? We shall probably never know.

 

P.S. The nominations for the Journal Awards are being taken as of midnight tonight (American time I think) so we will be able to vote as from tomorrow. I have my list done and some of your names are on it.  Now, that will get you wondering!