"Sandy the Tinker" by Charlotte Riddell (first published anonymously in London Society, Christmas 1880; reprinted in her collection Weird Stories, as by Mrs. J. H. Riddell, 1882, later reprinted as by Charlotte Riddell; included in The Gentle Women of Evil: An Anthology of Rare Supernatural Stories from the Pens of Victorian Ladies, edited by Peter Haining, 1967; included in The Collected Ghost Stories of Mrs. J. H. Riddell, included in Night Shivers: The Ghost Stories of Mrs. J. H. Riddell, edited by David Stuart Davies, 2008, although the front cover and spine give the author as J. H. Liddell; included in The Collected Supernatural Fiction of Mrs. J. H. Riddell, Volume 2, 2012; reprinted in Pseudopod #710, June 2020; reprinted in The Haunted Trail: Classic Tales of the Rambling Weird, edited by "Weird Walk" [an online "Journal of the Wanderings and Wonderings from the British Isles"], September 19, 2024; also available online at Roy Glashan's Library @ freeread/de/index .html)
Charlotte Riddell was, at one time, one of the most popular of female Victorian authors. Extremely prolific, she published between thirty and fifty novels -- the exact count is unknown because of her use of pseudonyms early in her career -- and numerous short stories. Her novel The Moors and the Fens (1857 or 1858), purported to be her first novel, although it was actually her third published, was noted for her abilility to describe places she had actually never seen. Her most successful novel was George Geith of Fen Court (1864), a story of business and finance that earned her the title of "Novelist of the City"; lone of many of her novels dealing with business. A small portion of her work dealt with stories of the supernatural -- four novels and perhaps seventeen stories -- which were often compared favorably to the work of J. /Sheridan Le Fanu (with an occasional influence of Poe).
"Sandy the Tinker" was not her typical supernatural story about ghosts; it was one of perhaps two stories that dealt with Satan. Edward Cawley was a young minister in the small village of Dendeldy, Scotland, having taken over a post his late father had held for 25 years. Cawley, having been raised mainly in London, was an imperious sort who unwittingly looked down at his northern, rural congregation. As such his main friend was Morrison, another minister from a nearby town. On a cold and violently stormy night, Morrison related this tale of thirty years pervious to his guests while before a comforting fire.
Morrison received a message from Cawley late one night, urging him to come at once as Cawley was in "the very greatest distress and anxiety"..."Let nothing delay you. If I cannot speak to you soon I believe I shall go out of my senses." The messenger said that Cawly "luiked awfu' bad, just awfu'...as if he had seen a ghaist." Morrison wondered what the problem was; he had seen Cawley several days earlier and the man was in good health and spirits. Because Cawley was a young man and young men are apt to inadvertently get into trouble, Morrison thought that perhaps a past debt had suddenly arisen and that Cawley had financial problems. Before he headed out to Dendeldy, Morrison took whatever little cash he had laying about with him.
But money was not Cawley's problem. He had had a dream. A most vivid and exacting dream that Cawley had convinced himself was real. Morrison thought it was silly, but Cawley was truly affected.
In the dream -- the vision, actually-- Cawley was walking in the area. Everything was beautiful: a gentle breeze, clear and bright flowing water, the mountains bright and glowing, covered in purple heather. He found himself in one of the most solitary spots in the area, known as the Witches' Caldron, and was surprised top see another person, a being of power, "with wickedness and hate and sin that underlay the glorious and terrible beauty of his face," a being who looked upon Cawley with scorn and contempt. The creature (for that was what it was) told Cawley that he could not pass there because "this place belongs to me." Cawley made to leave but the man (creature?) would not let him. Then the stranger told Cawley who he was, and said that Cawley could not leave. the Evil One (for that is who it was) took Cawley to a rock face which opened before them and thrust Cawley inside. Cawley found himself in Hell as his guide happily told him of the tortures that were going on. Cawley found himself fervently praying to be released. The supernatural being told Cawley that he could leave but that he must return on Wednesday next, or sent a substitute.
Cawley resisted, knowing that he could not doom a fellow man to such a fate. Then he thought of one person: Sandy the Tinker, an old man who appeared not to have long left for this world anyway. Sandy was the disgrace of the village, a drunkard and godless man who gloried in his infidelity. Suddenly, he was thrust through the solid rock wall and found himself lying on the floor of his bedchamber. Cwley knew that this had not been a dream.
Morrison, however, knew that it was, but humored Cawley. He vowed to stay with the man over the next few days. Cawley wanted Morrison to preach that Sunday instead of him, but Morrison refused, feeling that Cawley had to face up to his fears.
That Sunday, when Cawley began his unsteady sermon, he looked at his congregation.
And saw Sandy the Tinker sitting there -- Sandy, a man who had never before entered a church in his life, was sitting there, clen, sober, and eager to hear the sermon...
Cawley fainted on the spot and was in a coma for several days. He roused on Thursday, convinced that he had somehow avoided his fate. Going outside, he met a group of people carrying a sheeted corpse. the dead man was Sandy the Tinker, who evidently had wandered too close to the Witches' Caldron and had fallen to his death.
An interesting story of fate and evil that left many unanswered questions, and rightly so. Riddell once again displayed her remarkable talent for setting and characterization and for creating a sense of disquiet.
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