The Vognmagergade Haunting

Where: Vognmagergade, in what was then no. 36, Copenhagen. (GPS 55.682828, 12.577826)

When: 1888

Good to know:

During the late 1880's, an unexplained force appears to have terrorized several residents living in a house on Vognmagergade, Central Copenhagen.

A ghost in artist J. F. Willumsens childhood home

In the late 19th century, on the plot of land on Vognmagergade (“cartwright street”) that now houses the Danish Film Institute and the Cinematheque, there was a small second-hand shop with an associated residential property – both owned by the father of the iconic artist J.F Willumsen. Willumsen himself actually grew up here, however he had long since left home when the following incidents took place. The building, which probably dated back to the middle of the 18th century, was at this time very dilapidated. In addition to that, there was an inhospitable indoor climate, which all together with the enclosed location contributed to a gloomy atmosphere.

Portrait of J. F. Willumsen by Vilhelm Hammershøi

One gray October day in 1888, a family – known only as the “F.” Family – consisting of a widow and her two grown up sons, moved into a vacant apartment on the second floor of the aforementioned property. One of the three rooms of the apartment was shortly thereafter rented out to a young bookbinder, “H.,” a childhood friend of one of Widow F.’s sons.

Right from the beginning Widow F. sensed that there was something strange about the apartment, a notion that was soon to be confirmed. One morning she knocked on H.’s door to serve him usual morning coffee, and when he did not answer as he usually did, she knocked again several times. Finally, she heard a faint voice from the room saying, ‘come in.’ When she stepped into the room, she saw to her surprise the young bookbinder sitting half-dressed by the window, completely pale and with a frightened look in his eyes. She asked him whatever was wrong and why he was up so early, but he only answered very vaguely and evasively. In the evening after dinner, however, H. confided in his friend and told what had happened.

When he had locked himself in his room the night before, H. immediately got the feeling that something was wrong, but he tried to just ignore it by thinking of something else and humming some melodies to himself. He then sat down to read a book, and shortly afterwards got ready to go to bed. It was only when he turned off his lamp that serious unrest began to accumulate in the room. It started with a slight buzzing sound, but soon developed drastically. H. at first thought it was his imagination, but eventually had to admit that there was something highly unusual going on.

From one corner of the room, where a tile stove (which had not been burning that night) stood, H. now saw a strange light that alternated between being phosphorus-like and having a violet sheen. The light moved slowly back and forth in front of the tiled stove, approx. one meter above the floor, only to suddenly disappear after some time. But this was only the beginning. H. now heard a rummaging of various objects in the room, and something big and heavy was suddenly thrown from one end of the room towards his bed, and back again. This was repeated several times, and H. felt like he was under attack. Eventually, he gathered all his remaining courage. He jumped out of bed and turned on a lamp, and the moment he did so, everything became quiet. But it was quite clear that the whole thing had not been a product of his imagination. Several things were thrown chaotically all around the room, and now he could also see what the heavy object from before had been: an approx. ½ meter long sealskin suitcase, the contents of which were now scattered about on the floor. H. was quite sure that the suitcase had been standing in a distant corner of the room when he went to bed. After these events, he gave up on sleeping, and instead went for a long walk until the morning came, and Widow F. had come by with the coffee.

The dire housing situation in Vognmagergade (1900)

The ghosts in the stairwell

But Bookbinder H. was far from the only one to experience strange goings-on in the building. One late evening, some time after the dramatic incident in H.’s room, the youngest of the brothers F. came home from a celebration. As he locked himself into the building from the street, he noticed an unusual sound, like someone was walking back and forth on the staircase. As he walked up the stairs to their apartment on the top floor, it was as if someone was trying to sneak past him. But when he tried to address “it”, he got no response. He also tried to light a match, but saw that no one was there. He continued up the stairs, but when he had ascended a bit further it happened again. It was now as if there was some invisible ‘traffic’ going in two opposite streams, up and down the stairs. When the slightly shaken brother F. was about to lock himself into the apartment, he put his walking cane up against the wall while searching for the key. However, the cane kept falling down, and when this had repeated itself several times he stuck it between his knees instead. But suddenly it was as if someone with a loud jerk tore the cane away from under him, slinging it down to the bottom of the staircase. It should be mentioned that the brother did not usually drink liquor, and had not done so this night either.

The mysterious, invisible entities in the stairwell also turned out to have been sensed by other occupants of the building. Almost everyone had at one point or another encountered them on the stairs, especially during certain times of night. A very old lady, who lived in one of the apartments on the 1st floor, even stated that for the last 30 years there had been no peace in the house from this phenomenon.

Further incidents

Bookbinder H. had some further experiences with “the phenomenon” as well, and in at least one case it became a little too physical for comfort. One night, when the aforementioned sealskin suitcase was again being thrown around, H. was stroked across the face with what felt like a clammy, furry hand. Again, there were no perpetrators to be seen anywhere.

This was not the case in the following episode. Some time later, H.’s brother, who at the time was second mate on one of Thingvalla’s ships, had come to stay with him for a few days. Late one night, the F. family woke up to a horrible spectacle from the kitchen. The eldest of the brothers awoke from the noise, jumped out of bed and ran to see what had happened. In the kitchen, he saw the helmsman standing half-dressed, armed with a thick wooden stick and with an astonished expression on his face. He explained that he had seen someone inside H.’s room and had then chased him out into the kitchen. Here he had disappeared, and H.’s brother was sure he must have gone out through the chimney. He reportedly did not know about the previous incidents in the house, and even when he was told about them he maintained that it must be a burglar or the like who was involved. The now infamous sealskin suitcase was supposedly involved in this episode as well, though the story does not explain how.

After that night, Bookbinder H. became so fed up with all the disturbances that he terminated the lease and moved shortly thereafter.

A bricklayer, who was residing in the building aeround the same time, became involved with the ghostly affairs as well. For a long while he even tried to solve the mystery. At one point he came to the conclusion that it could all be traced to a certain cavity in the wall, near a corner of the room previously inhabited by H. He even asked for the owner’s permission to break down the wall, but this was vehemently denied him. The cavity was therefore never examined, but it is also not entirely clear what exactly the bricklayer was hoping to find there.

Finally, the F. family moved out of the property too. And when the last load had been driven away, the youngest of the F. brothers went one last time through the empty apartment. As he stood absorbed in his own thoughts, he suddenly discovered that the door to the tile stove was slowly opening, and then shortly afterwards slammed shut with so much force that ash and paper stood out to all sides.

This was his last, unforgettable memory from the old Ghost House on Vognmagergade.