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The Phantom Dog
An authentic story by a
Tsarist Russian Army officer
This story was published in the Theosophist 1879
This narrative has just been published in the
Messenger of
moreover we have the names of all the
participants in the tragical finale.
Whatever else an incredulous public may think,
Captain L. at least -- a highly
respected officer -- gave the story at
account of its value as a contribution to the
literature of Psychology. (ED.)
(The editor was H P Blavatsky)
During the last
war in
on a Christmas eve, in the apartments occupied by
Colonel V . . . in one of the
best hotels of
the New-York Herald,
Colonel N.; a
Captain; and the President of the Society of the Red-Cross, the
well renown P---f. The only lady was the wife of
Colonel V. . ., our host, who
was busy at the large round table, around which we were
all seated, pouring out
tea.
We had all
become very merry and congenial. All felt, in the best of humours,
and each vied with the other in telling interesting
stories. Alone poor
Mac-Gahan and Lytton, the
correspondents, respectively, of the American and
English papers,
did not seem to share in the general hilarity; a circumstance
which attracted attention to them.
"What's
the matter with you, Lytton?" asked Colonel V.
"Nothing,"
answered the correspondent, thoughtfully. "I was thinking about home,
and trying to see what they were doing now."
"One may
speculate with perfect security" -- remarked Mac-Gahan,
"and say that
the whole family is now assembled around the
fire-place, drinking cider,
speaking about far-away friends in
"You don't
mean to say that in
enquired Mme. V.
"The
majority do not," replied Lytton, "but
there are a good many who do, and a
multitude who claim to have seen ghosts themselves. There
are also such as have
not themselves seen yet who believe all the same . .
."
We were all
struck with Captain L's uneasy look and pallor, as he abruptly left
the table.
"You may
say what you like and laugh at such notions," he remarked. "As for
myself, I cannot deny the existence of 'ghosts,' -- as
you call them. I, myself,
was but a few months ago, an eye-witness to a case
which will never be obliterated from my memory. This upset all my previous
theories . . . "
Yielding to our
curiosity, though very unwillingly, the brave Captain told that
which he wrote down himself for me a few days after, and
which I now publish
with his consent.
-------
"During
the war in the
against the mountaineers. At that time, a young officer,
from the Imperial guard, named Nedewitchef, was
transferred into our regiment. The young man was
remarkably handsome, with the figure of a Hercules, and would
have soon become a
general favourite were it not for
his shyness and extraordinary misanthropy.
Sulky and
unsocial in disposition, his only affection seemed to be centred
on an
enormous black dog with a white star upon its forehead,
which he called Caro.
Once our
regiment had to move against an aoul (Circassian village) that was in full revolt. The Circassians defended
their positions with desperate bravery, but as we had on our side the advantage
of twice their numbers we disposed of them very easily. The soldiers driven to
blind frenzy by the stubborn defence of the enemy, killed every one they met, giving quarter neither to
old men nor children. Nedewitchef commanded a company
and was in front of everybody. Near a sakly (a mud
hut) I happened to meet him face to face -- and I felt
thunderstruck! His handsome, magnificent face was all distorted
by an expression
of brutal cruelty, his eyes were bloodshot and
wandering like those of a maniac
in a fit of fury. He was literally chopping an old
man to pieces with his sword.
I was excessively
shocked at such a display of useless ferocity, and hurried forward to stop him.
But, before I had reached him, the door of the hut flew open, and a woman, with
a cry which made my blood run cold, rushed out of it, and flung herself upon
the corpse of the old man. At this sight Nedewitchef sprang
backward as if he had been shot himself, and trembled violently. I looked at
the woman and could hardly suppress a cry of surprise. Heavens, what a gorgeous
beauty was there! With her lovely face, pale as death itself, uplifted
toward us, her magnificent black eyes, full of nameless
terror and mortal hatred
were phosphorescent, flaming like two burning coals as
she fixed them upon us.
Nedewitchef stared at her like one fascinated, and it was with
an effort that,
coming out of his stupor, he mechanically gave the orders
to beat the rappel in
order to put an end to useless bloodshed.
I did not see Nedewitchef for several
days after that
accident; and only learned accidentally from his orderly that the same young
woman, two days later, had come to his tent, had thrown herself at his feet,
and pouring her whole soul into her tale, had confessed an ardent love for him.
She declared that, according to the Circassian
custom, his courage
had made her his slave, and that she wanted to be his
wife. . . . . . .
His envious
friends had added much more details which would be useless here.
Remembering
well her look of hatred, I did not at first believe, but had to yield at last
to the evidence.
After the
submission of the rebellions aoul, the
commander-in-chief encamped us at the foot of the
mountain in its neighbourhood, so that we should
command the great Shemaha highway. We had to camp
there quite a considerable length of time,
and having nothing else to do we could easily occupy
our days with picnics, rides, and hunting. One afternoon, calling my dog, I
took a gun and went out for a stroll in the wild vineyards. I had no intention
to hunt, but simply to take a walk and watch the splendid sunset from the top
of Ali-Dag. My path ran through the most lovely
scenery, along a thick double alley of mimosas, white acacia, and other trees,
entwined with vines, hung thickly with bunches of grapes, and chestnut trees
with their large crowns of leaves intermingled with fruit. The
whole mountain slope was covered with blooming bushes
and flowers, which grew in
rich profusion and spread themselves like a carpet.
The air was
balmy, heavy with scents, and still, excepting the incessant buzzing of the
bees; not a breath of wind disturbed one single leaf, and nature itself seemed
slumbering. Not a human step, not even the sound of a far away voice; so that I
was finally overpowered by a hallucination which made me dream I was walking
upon a deserted island. . .
Having gone
about two or three miles by an narrow path which wound up to the mountain top,
I entered a small thicket drowned in sunlight, and burning like a jewel set
with gold, rubies and diamonds. Under a group of tall trees lying lazily on a
patch of green moss, I saw Nedewitchef; the
black-eyed beauty was sitting near him, playing with his hair, and, asleep at
the feet of his master,
was the faithful dog.
Unwilling to
break their tete-a-tete, I passed unperceived by them
and began climbing higher up. While crossing with difficulty a thick vineyard,
I suddenly came upon three Circassians, who,
perceiving me, rapidly disappeared though not quickly
enough to prevent my seeing that they were armed to the teeth. Supposing them
to be runaways from the conquered aouls, I passed
on without paying them much attention. Charmed by the
splendid evening I
wandered about till night, and returned home very late and
tired out. Passing
through the camp towards my tent, I at once perceived that
something unusual had
happened. Armed horsemen belonging to the General's escort
rapidly brushed by
me. The division adjutant was furiously galloping in
my direction. Near one of
the officers' tents a crowd of people with lanterns
and torches had assembled,
and the evening breeze was bringing the hum of
animated voices. Curious to know
what had happened, and surmounting my fatigue I went
straight to the crowd. I
had hardly approached it when I saw that it was Nedewitchef's tent, and a horrid
presentiment, which soon became a fearful reality, got hold of
me at once.
The first
object I saw was a mass of hacked and bleeding flesh, lying on the
iron bedstead. It was Nedewitchef;
he had been literally chopped to pieces with
yatagans and daggers. At the foot of the bed Caro, also bleeding, was streched,
looking at his master's remains with such a human
expression of pity, despair,
and affection mingled, that it brought a gush of hot
tears to my eyes. Then it
was that I learned the following: soon after sunset, Caro furiously barking, ran into the camp and attracted
general attention. It was immediately remarked, that his muzzle was bleeding.
The intelligent dog getting hold of the soldiers' coats,
seemed to invite them to follow him; which was immediately understood, and a
party of them sent with him up the mountain. Caro ran
all the time before the men, showing them the way, till he brought them at last
to a group of trees
where they found Nedewitchef's
mangled body.
A pool of blood
was found at quite a distance from the murdered man, for which no one could
account, till pieces of coarse clothing disclosed the fact that Caro had had his battle also with one of the murderers, and
had come out best in the fight; the latter accounting also for his bleeding
muzzle. The black-eyed beauty had disappeared -- she was revenged.
On the
following day Nedewitchef was buried with military
honors, and little by little the sad event was forgotten.
Several of the
officers tried to have Caro; but he would live with
none: he had got very much attached to the soldiers, who all doted upon him.
Several months after that I learned that the poor animal got killed in his turn
by a mounted Circasian, who blew his brains out and,
-- disappeared. The soldiers buried the dog, and many there were among them who
shed tears, but no one laughed at their emotion. After Shamyl's
surrender, I left the regiment and returned to St.
Petersburg.
Eighteen years
rolled away. The present war was declared, and I, as an old Caucasian officer
well acquainted with the seat of war, was ordered off to
The Turks were
in a minority and evidently feeling afraid, remained idle. We also
had to be inactive and quietly awaiting for further
developments, encamped at Kizil-Tapa in front of the Aladgin heights on which the Turks had entrenched themselves.
There was no very rigorous discipline observed as yet in the camp.
Very often Mahomedans of the cavalry were sent to occupy positions on
advanced posts and pickets; and sleeping sentries on duty were often reported
to the chiefs. On the unfortunate day of August 13th we lost Kizil-Tapa.
After this unsuccessful
battle rigour in discipline reached its climax; the
most trifling neglect was often punished with death. Thus
passed some time. After a while I heard people talking of the mysterious
apparition of a dog named Caro, who was adored by all
the old soldiers. Once as I went to see our Colonel on business, I
heard an officer mentioning Caro,
when Major T** addressing an artillery man,
sternly remarked:
"'It must
be some trick of the soldiers”. . .
"What does
all this mean?” I asked the Major, extremely interested.
"Is it
possible that you should not have heard the foolish story told about a
dog Caro?” he asked me, full
of surprise.
And upon
receiving my assurance that I
had not, explained as follows:
Before our
disastrous loss of Kizil-Tapa, the soldiers had been
allowed many unpardonable liberties. Very often the officers on duty had seen
the sentries and patrols asleep. But not with standing all their endeavours, it had hitherto proved impossible to catch any of
them: hardly did an officer on duty appear going the rounds, than an enormous
black dog, with a white star on its forehead, mysteriously appeared, no one
knew whence, ran toward any careless sentry, and pulled him by his coat and
legs to awaken him. Of course, as soon as the man was fairly warned he would
begin pacing up and down with an air of perfect
innocence.
The soldiers
began circulating the most stupid stories about that dog, They affirm that it
is no living dog, but the phantom of 'Caro,' a Newfoundland
that had belonged to an officer of their regiment, who was
treacherously killed by some Circassians
many years ago, during the last
Caucasian war
with Shamyl.
The last words
of the Major brought back to my memory the pictures of the long
forgotten past, and at the same time an uneasy feeling that
I could not well
define. I could not pronounce a word, and remained
silent.
“You heard, I
suppose,” said the Colonel addressing the Major, “that the
commander-in-chief has just issued an order to shoot the first sentry
found
asleep on his post, as an example for others?”
"Yes --
but I confess to a great desire to first try my hand at shooting the
phantom-dog, -- or, whoever represents it. I am determined to
expose the trick;”
exclaimed the irascible Major, who was a skeptic.
"Well,
there is a good opportunity for you,” -- put in the adjutant – “I am just going
to make my rounds and examine the posts. Would you like to come with me?
Perhaps we will discover something.”
"All
readily assented. Not wishing to
part from good company, and being besides
devoured with curiosity, I said I would go. Major T**
carefully loaded his
revolver, and -- we started. It was a glorious night. A silvery velvet moonlight
fantastically illuminated the heights of Aladgin,
towering high above us, and of
Kizil-Tapa. An unruffled
stillness filled the air. In both hostile camps all was quiet. Here and there
the faint tinkle of a volynka (a kind of primitive guitar),
and, nearer, the mournful cadence of a soldier's voice intoning a popular air,
hardly broke the dead stillness of the night; and as we turned an
angle in the mountain path sounds and song abruptly
ceased.
We passed
through a lonely gorge and began mounting a steep incline. We now distinctly
saw the chain of sentries on the picket line.
We kept to the
bush, in the shadow, to escape observation; and, in fact, we approached
unobserved.
Presently, it
became too evident that a sentinel, seated upon a knoll, was
asleep. We had come within a hundred paces of him, when
suddenly, from behind a
bush, darted a huge black dog, with a white star on its
forehead. O, horror! It
was the Caro of Nedewitchef; I positively recognized it. The dog rushed up
to
the sleeping sentry and tugged violently at his leg. I
was following the scene with intense concentration of attention and a
shuddering heart . . .when at my
very ear there came the crack of a pistol-shot . . .I
started at the unexpected
explosion . . . Major T--- had fired at the dog; at the same
instant the culprit
soldier dropped to the ground in a heap. We all sprang
towards him. The Major was the first to alight from his horse; but he had
hardly begun to lift the body, when a heart-rending shriek burst from his lips,
and he fell senseless upon the corpse.
The truth
became instantly known; a father had killed his own son. The boy had just
joined the regiment as a volunteer, and had been sent out on picket duty.
Owing to a
terrible mischance he had met his death by the hand of his own
father.
After this
tragedy, Caro was seen no more.
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