“It was in one of these periods of strange happenings that I accepted my friend’s invitation, having little fear of ghosts.”
– Roma Lister
As I’ve written previously, late nineteenth-century Florence was a bona fide ghostland. Following the rise to international stardom of the Fox sisters (who are generally acknowledged as the “mothers” of spiritualism), Florence slowly fell under a kind of spell. Within the social circles of residents like the English writer and poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning, automatic writing and table-rapping became new pastimes. Then, in 1855, the popular medium Daniel Dunglas Home arrived in the city and appetites for mediumistic communication surged even more.
While in Florence, Home effectively assumed the role of lead séancer and ghostbuster (or “ghost-layer”, as they were called in those days), visiting centuries-old villas and conversing with restive and unparliamentary apparitions. Home and others like Seymour Kirkup helped to stimulate in the city’s residents a renewed curiosity in haunted houses, and after Home’s departure, several occultists, including the Sicilian spiritualist Giovanni Damiani and his associates, continued to seek out and investigate cases of paranormal disturbances. Inevitably, Roma Lister — who lived for several years in Florence and developed friendships with many a witch and manor-owner — was given an opportunity to visit a famous villa and see things for herself. I’ve included an abbreviated account of her experience (which appears in full in her memoirs) below:
Florence has many beautiful villas…I am sorry that for obvious reasons I am unable to give the address of a certain haunted villa. There are no tramway lines and no means of getting to it except by private motor or carriage. The entrance is high and mysterious, with a high avenue of box trees leading straight to the house. The door is in the middle of the building, with queer-shaped medallions of monsters adorning window niches. You enter by a series of rooms, a great inside hall, round which run balconies. These balconies give light to other rooms, which are never used because of the queer sounds and sights you may meet there.
The sister-in-law of one of the members of a Conservative Ministry in England took the villa for herself and her two children…It was in one of these periods of strange happenings that I accepted my friend’s invitation, having little fear of ghosts. We passed a very normal day. It was a fine autumn; the rooms were filled with flowers, jasmine, and other sweet-smelling plants, and nothing was further from my thoughts than ghostly hauntings. Mrs. B. and I had spent a good time gossiping. There came a pause and from the upper floor from the balcony came floating down an ethereal whisper, rather than a musical note. We were both silent. The sound continued and the notes became a plaintive, eighteenth-century minuet. It went on, slowly, like a sob rather than a melody. Silently, we whispered till the last sound died away. Mrs. B. said : ‘Now you have heard it. It comes nearly every day in November. When my husband was here I wanted to unravel this mystery. But there are horrible stories of men dying who went into that wing during the music. My husband locked the floor up and forbade me to go myself or let anyone enter.’
‘Can it be the children?’ I suggested.
‘In bed and asleep,’ answered their mother. ‘They are in a part of the house which is free from ghosts. Besides, it is all locked up. One day I explored the rooms with my husband. It was a delight. The furniture in these rooms has never been altered. The silk coverings are of the time of Louis XV. There is a spinet, the one we heard. But it is only a case ; there is no inside left — all eaten up by mice or something. A torn piece of music stands on the open instrument. The flooring is rotten; all is tumbling to pieces. We had to avoid the gaps in the floor as we went near the music. I often see a woman’s face peering in at the hall window, but when I try to look at it, it vanishes, and through an opera glass I can only see mist.
‘The child sees more. She has met a dwarf and has also seen ladies and men of the sixteenth century in doublet and with jewelled ear-rings. I have put you in the safest room, next to my own, and the child is in the next.’
The spinet played nightly; there were queer shadows about, even in the day time. Twice I thought I had caught a man in antique dress, but when I got near him, he vanished, and we made little jokes of the music, comparing it to the after-dinner concert at the Excelsior. My friend stayed a year longer at Florence and then she joined her husband in England. The villa remained lonely and mysterious as before they lived there.
For more on Lister and her adventures, watch this space!
Keep an eye as well on hexen.fr for news on the book’s release.