seizure which apparently caused him to choke on his tongue, there was no-one to look after his animals.
‘You can imagine the consequences. By the time anyone thought to take a look inside his deserted retreat, many of the creatures had died of starvation. The fate of the rest, which admittedly may have been in the balance anyway, is blandly conveyed, I think, by a remark in the estate managers’ records of the time; an entry not long after Toby’s death reads: “Disposed of Master Mangrave’s effects at the Menagerie.” I expect all the fauna he had gathered and protected were destroyed.
‘When I first came upon this forgotten history of the Folly, my suspicion was naturally that the cause of all the disturbances was the restless spirit of Toby Mangrave. Therefore, to be frank, I went into our watch tonight with a less than open mind. That was nearly our downfall.’
He paused, reflecting on the peril we had just been through.
‘For the fact is that the elemental power which is imbued within this building is the amassed, terrified, unpredictable remnant of the animals which suffered here. Not only in the squalid aftermath of Toby’s demise, but also in the menagerie’s subsequent use; as a game hut, where carcasses were deposited, and where “vermin” like rats, stoats, weasels, voles, crows and so on were hung up on the outer walls to ward off other such beasts. It’s an old country trick, still to be seen these days, and quite common in the past. The accumulated agonies of all these beasts have congealed into a wild, primitive instinct which reacts inexorably against the presence of any person recently stained by the blood of an animal, or possibly even anyone whose thoughts and preoccupations carry the same impression. The swarm of beasts exists in a seething, unstable suspense, which operates on an implacable, almost biological impulse. So poor Jack Hartward, the keeper they dismissed for apparent drunken hallucinations, really did see what he claimed, and no wonder the lodge was shut up shortly after. Then, this recent restoration unfortunately compounded the problem by introducing a succession of “sporting” types, all of whom had just enjoyed a good day’s slaughtering. Remember how only the caretaker, who presumably had not so indulged, was spared the visitation, and that the process seems to take time to work through.
‘A shade from Toby Mangrave’s brief time on earth has remained precisely because of the other, inhuman force here. Because he, and only he, can exercise some dominion over it. Otherwise it simply spills out in a frenzy at the first hint—smell, sight, taste—of animal blood. It would be too much to say it is within his control, even. But, as I understand matters, that part of the elemental mass which has its origin in his own former creatures yields still to his affectionate nature; and even those stark, primitive urges from the later victims of the hunt, the shoot or the cull, can be stilled by an instinctive response to his peculiar knowledge and love of animals.
‘So, Toby Mangrave’s spectre acts almost like a conscience for the fierce phantom menagerie. And, sometimes he’s quite happy just to look on and enjoy the attack. We can imagine he had few qualms about unleashing the beasts on those two hearty young hunters who stayed here last. But with us, there was uncertainty. My hand had been smeared, you may remember, with the blood of that rabbit which was beyond saving; and that was enough to send the wild, yelping throng out from its lurking insubstantiality. However, the “guardian”, Toby Mangrave, could sense that we had neither caused, nor intended, any harm. He is clearly possessed of a greater attunement to our mortal plane, and able to distinguish motivations and to an extent even characteristics in a way which could not be expected of a seething, incoherent animal phenomena. I was able to achieve something of a channel of response with him, as you saw: and
‘You can imagine the consequences. By the time anyone thought to take a look inside his deserted retreat, many of the creatures had died of starvation. The fate of the rest, which admittedly may have been in the balance anyway, is blandly conveyed, I think, by a remark in the estate managers’ records of the time; an entry not long after Toby’s death reads: “Disposed of Master Mangrave’s effects at the Menagerie.” I expect all the fauna he had gathered and protected were destroyed.
‘When I first came upon this forgotten history of the Folly, my suspicion was naturally that the cause of all the disturbances was the restless spirit of Toby Mangrave. Therefore, to be frank, I went into our watch tonight with a less than open mind. That was nearly our downfall.’
He paused, reflecting on the peril we had just been through.
‘For the fact is that the elemental power which is imbued within this building is the amassed, terrified, unpredictable remnant of the animals which suffered here. Not only in the squalid aftermath of Toby’s demise, but also in the menagerie’s subsequent use; as a game hut, where carcasses were deposited, and where “vermin” like rats, stoats, weasels, voles, crows and so on were hung up on the outer walls to ward off other such beasts. It’s an old country trick, still to be seen these days, and quite common in the past. The accumulated agonies of all these beasts have congealed into a wild, primitive instinct which reacts inexorably against the presence of any person recently stained by the blood of an animal, or possibly even anyone whose thoughts and preoccupations carry the same impression. The swarm of beasts exists in a seething, unstable suspense, which operates on an implacable, almost biological impulse. So poor Jack Hartward, the keeper they dismissed for apparent drunken hallucinations, really did see what he claimed, and no wonder the lodge was shut up shortly after. Then, this recent restoration unfortunately compounded the problem by introducing a succession of “sporting” types, all of whom had just enjoyed a good day’s slaughtering. Remember how only the caretaker, who presumably had not so indulged, was spared the visitation, and that the process seems to take time to work through.
‘A shade from Toby Mangrave’s brief time on earth has remained precisely because of the other, inhuman force here. Because he, and only he, can exercise some dominion over it. Otherwise it simply spills out in a frenzy at the first hint—smell, sight, taste—of animal blood. It would be too much to say it is within his control, even. But, as I understand matters, that part of the elemental mass which has its origin in his own former creatures yields still to his affectionate nature; and even those stark, primitive urges from the later victims of the hunt, the shoot or the cull, can be stilled by an instinctive response to his peculiar knowledge and love of animals.
‘So, Toby Mangrave’s spectre acts almost like a conscience for the fierce phantom menagerie. And, sometimes he’s quite happy just to look on and enjoy the attack. We can imagine he had few qualms about unleashing the beasts on those two hearty young hunters who stayed here last. But with us, there was uncertainty. My hand had been smeared, you may remember, with the blood of that rabbit which was beyond saving; and that was enough to send the wild, yelping throng out from its lurking insubstantiality. However, the “guardian”, Toby Mangrave, could sense that we had neither caused, nor intended, any harm. He is clearly possessed of a greater attunement to our mortal plane, and able to distinguish motivations and to an extent even characteristics in a way which could not be expected of a seething, incoherent animal phenomena. I was able to achieve something of a channel of response with him, as you saw: and
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