Biographical Note: William Croft Dickinson (1897-1963)
‘Dark Encounters’ consists of thirteen Ghost Stories written by William Croft Dickinson at various times in his life and which were collected together and published in 1963. Dickinson achieved a hitherto unprecedented feat when in 1940 he was appointed Sir William Fraser Professor of Scottish History and Palaeography at the University of Edinburgh, becoming the first English-born occupant of this Chair, the oldest and most distinguished Scottish History professorship in the world. Sadly, he died shortly after correcting the proofs for this book.
Review: ‘Dark Encounters’
The Ghost Story has always been a reminder of the limitations of reason. It represents the manifestation of the deep frustration that haunts all seekers after truth, because it offers an alternative, chaotic view of the world. There are literary precedents for this disenchantment; Poe, having created the modern detective story, abandoned it after just three attempts. There had been much trumpeting of his exposition of the powers of ratiocination at the beginning of ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’ but Poe soon realised the inherent flaws in a system which tries to reduce rather than amplify. Detectives remain prisoners, brilliant technicians who can only go on repeating what they already do well – the logical extension of which is a world that quite literally becomes a slave to the rigidity of reason and nothing else.
This challenge to logic meets its apogee in the antiquarian ghost story. Where eminent academics, ostensibly models of objectivity, are confronted by forces that take them beyond their sphere of factual discourse. Dickinson’s tales are not ground-breaking, in fact they are entirely derivative and conform to this model. They are specifically derivative in the sense that they follow the template created by M R James whose now familiar protagonists, lone, male antiquarians, discover that delving into the past risks untold perils. Thus, in Dickinson’s stories bemused, enquiring characters encounter: claustrophobic nightmares, books that kill, houses that disappear, ancient voices and even a vengeful witch. Dickinson’s principal characters belong to the higher echelons of a venerable Scottish University (one assumes based on Edinburgh itself) and most are eminent in their field. You would be forgiven for thinking that I make it sound rather stylised and hackneyed. But Dickinson refreshes this archetype by dint of eloquence, inherent knowledge and careful construction. Each story is carefully crafted to balance the impact of the supernatural with the lucid backdrop of academe. In only a couple of cases was I unsurprised at the denouement; this is a particularly important criterion for the Ghost Story or, for that matter any short story. The more a writer can make the last sentence something of a ‘volte face’ the more effective the narrative becomes. In a number of cases Dickinson does just that.
The more I thought about it as I read these tales the more they seem to conform to our whole experience of ‘knowledge’. By this I mean that despite the huge advances of science and discovery, which of course have brought great benefits, we are nonetheless, invariably experience a deficit of understanding. Put crudely the more we discover, the less we seem to know. In the fields of quantum physics, medicine and natural sciences advancement inevitably gives rise to more questions. Relating this to the Ghost Story, it seems that our psyche is therefore conditioned to look beyond our current field of perception to a metaphysical void, a lacuna where knowledge ends. One such innate anxiety, outside our present conscious state, is, of course, death; indeed, many critics have argued that the Ghost Story is itself an articulation of the fear that we shall all face one day. It succeeds in frightening us precisely because it reminds us of both our mortality and our own vulnerability. So, in this sense it is largely irrelevant to consider whether one ‘believes’ in ghosts, because to imagine the supernatural is enough to ‘know’ our shortcomings. To read a Ghost Story, therefore, is to acquaint ourselves with our own destiny. This I think is what Dickinson and all great Ghost Story writers create, a seamless transition from the limit of comprehension and the security that goes with it and the beginning of imagination, where misrule holds sway. The very fact that in these tales such ‘encounters’ are experienced by human beings of outstanding intelligence, and presumed scepticism, lends much credence to this premise.
In summary, we can place ‘Dark Encounters’ in the pantheon of the outstanding antiquarian Ghost Story, alongside James, of course, but his most distinguished followers too, writers such as Malden, Wakefield, Munby and others. In that company I would place Dickinson’s work at the very highest level.