Eleanor Scott (1) (1892–1965)

Helen Magdalen Leys (1892 – 1965), an educator who spent most of her life working at a teacher’s training college in Oxfordshire. In 1928 she published her first novel, War Among Ladies, a somewhat controversial novel critiquing the English girls’ high school system. It was, perhaps, the subject-matter and her position as a teacher that led her to adopt the pseudonym Eleanor Scott. She stuck to it for Randalls Round, her second book, a collection of weird tales which came out in 1929 (although this includes the story The Room which had already been previously published by Cornhill Magazine under Leys’ own name). As Scott she also published other novels and two collective biographies for children – Adventurous Women (1933) and Heroic Women (1939). She is also likely the author of two detective novels written by a certain “P.R. Shore”.


Randalls Round was published during what can be considered the heyday of the classic English supernatural tale, at a time when the likes of M.R. James, Algernon Blackwood, May Sinclair, E.F. Benson and Walter de la Mare were still active. In the light of this fierce competition, it might not be surprising that Scott’s stories, which sometimes come across as rather derivative, failed to make an impact. This is a pity because, even when Scott appears to be following other models, her work is not simply good, but genuinely creepy. Randalls Round has been reissued by a number of small presses in the past years, but is now available as part of British Library’s brilliant Tales of the Weird series, which will surely give Scott’s stories the wider exposure they deserve.

In her foreword, Scott claims that the nine pieces in the collection “had their origin in dreams”, hence why this new edition is subtitled Nine Nightmares. Well, if that was really the case, Scott must have had some pretty restless nights! Whatever the inspiration, however, much authorial work has gone into crafting the “detached incidents and scenes” typical of dreams into taut little chillers.

One of the highlights is the title-piece, a story which, like others in the book, would today be clearly shelved under what is now recognised as the distinct sub-genre of folk horror. A male undergraduate visits the Cotswolds village of Randalls and witnesses what he thinks is a quaint folk dance in the market square. Exploring further, he discovers that the origins of this dance lay in a ceremony, probably sacrificial, which used to be performed around a local long barrow known as Randalls Bank. Against express advice, he decides to explore the barrow on the night of All Hallows’ Eve, never a great idea if you’re the protagonist of a folk horror tale. Similar echoes of Machen haunt Simnel Acres Farm, which also features an Oxford undergraduate who falls prey to ancient influences. The Old Lady also features Oxford undergrads, although girls in this case, and a tale of vampirism and blood sacrifice which recalls Seaton’s Aunt by de la Mare and, possibly, Braddon’s Good Lady Ducayne.

Two other strong stories have a clear M.R. James feel to them. In The Twelve Apostles, a wealthy American who buys an allegedly haunted English manor, seeks a missing treasure linked to the private Catholic chaplain (and supposed alchemist) of the Squire of the Manor in Elizabethan times. In Celui-là the protagonist Maddox spends some days of rest on the Breton coast, staying with the local curate. Despite the curate’s warnings, he becomes uncommonly obsessed with a strange figure he spots during an evening walk and a strange box containing a parchment with a strange invocation written on it. In this story and The Room, about a group of six friends who dare each other to stay the night in a haunted chamber, I distinctly felt a philo-Catholic sensibility. As is my habit, I read Aaron Worth’s informative introduction to the volume after I finished the rest of the book, and was not at all surprised to learn of Scott’s Catholicism and her studies of Medieval mystery plays, both of which could be considered influences which added colour to her stories.

The volume includes two stories by one “N. Dennett” which are now generally attributed to Leys/Scott. Unburied Bane features a decrepit cottage containing a witch’s skull whereas The Menhir takes us back to full-on folk horror territory. I guess there are enough similarities with the rest of the stories to justify the attribution but, whatever their authorship, I felt that these two stories were more over the top than the rest of the volume and, consequently, less to my liking.

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I enjoyed all the stories in this book despite some issues. There’s a clear influence of M.R. James, but I didn’t mind this as I also like his stories (the intro mentioned hints of Benson, de la Mare, and Machen, although I haven’t read their work). The stories follow a certain pattern: instead of James’ fussy antiquarian scholars, Scott tends to feature curious, skeptical gentlemen who find themselves in haunted houses, isolated coastal areas or small rural villages. The main character learns of possible ghosts or folk rituals and is warned by the servants, villagers or helpful clergyman to (NOT DO THE THING). But they don’t believe in all those old superstitions, so they (DO THE THING) and are often pursued or haunted by the nameless but sometimes named evils. I often found myself doing the book equivalent of yelling “Don’t go into the basement!” during a scary movie (DON’T DO THE THING!). Despite this, the stories went by very quickly, Scott’s style, which did seem a bit Jamesian, was enjoyable, and the slow-building suspense and creepy atmosphere were nicely done. Scott definitely prefers to hint at the violence and creepy rituals and will cut away at some key climactic moments, but I didn’t mind that. She also has some abrupt endings–not that things aren’t resolved, one way or another, but there’s not much lingering after the end has been revealed. I became used to these endings and actually appreciated them–it provided a nice little jolt at the end of each story.

The title story, “The Twelve Apostles”, “Celui-La”, and “At Simmel Acres Farm” all fit the pattern described above, but only the last one seemed a little repetitive. “Randalls Round” is a nicely creepy bit of folk horror, as the protagonist learns about an old dance and ritual in the village, researches it, and decides to dig up the nearby barrow, which he is, of course, warned about by the villagers. “The Twelve Apostles” is also a solid haunted house story in the Victorian mode: the main character there is a blustery American who is irritated by the superstitions of the servants after he buys an old English manor house. He learns about the backstory of the house, which is believed to be haunted by a demonology-obsessed chaplain who died in an unsettling way. Some of this story features his attempts to solve a mystery with the vicar, an antiquarian scholar (much like a James character, of course). In this one and “Randalls Round”, old documents (and a reference to The Golden Bough) provide a sort of verisimilitude during the research. “Celui-La” has a lot of memorably creepy details, much like the story to which it owes an obvious debt, James’ "'Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad'". A man staying at a small French seaside town sees a mysterious figure and finds a strange box and document. He is warned against pursuing the matter further, but, well. “The Room” actually has the characters warning each other NOT TO DO THE THING. A group of friends agrees that they will all sleep in the supposedly haunted room of the manor they’re staying at. However, as one and another comes down in the morning terrified and cowed, there is debate and determination over whether everyone else should sleep in the room. In “The Cure”, the narrator is the character who is warning his friend, Erik Storm, not to do foolish things. But Erik has already done foolish things and is in the ill and haunted stage. The narrator is sure that a stay at his farm will fix his friend, but Erik has other plans. This one, and some others, benefit from what is left unsaid–the reader can try to fill in the blanks on their own. “The Tree” finds a shadow falling over a formerly happy, artistic couple when they move into a house with a large tree nearby. “At Simmel Acres Farm” did feel a bit like some of the other stories but not as distinct–the narrator and a friend vacation at a farm but should have listened to the warnings against going into the ruined, abandoned garden. “‘Will Ye No’ Come Back Again?’” is a short, sad haunted house story. “The Old Lady” has a nicely suspenseful development and is rather different from the other stories. The narrator is a confident, extroverted college girl who makes a bet to befriend the extremely dull and monosyllabic Adela Young. After much work, she manages to do that and has a logical reason for Adela’s behavior. But she finds something else when she goes home with Adela for the holidays.

Two other stories are included: they could be by Eleanor Scott, although there were some differences. They had the same pattern described above but tended to be more horrific, with bodies scattered around. In “Unburied Bane”, a couple stays at a creepy farmhouse owned by a malevolent old woman to inspire the husband, a playwright. The wife becomes increasingly unsettled in the house, especially by the skull which supposedly can’t be removed due to a curse. In “The Menhir”, a new curate is determined to abolish all the local customs related to the title stone statue, which is of course the wrong thing to do. In these ones, I was more annoyed at the husband and the curate, who had many opportunities to not do stupid things but kept doing stupid things. They were also at the end of the book, which probably contributed to that. Still, all the stories are good, creepy reads. Recommended.… (mehr)

Helen Magdalen Leys (1892 – 1965), an educator who spent most of her life working at a teacher’s training college in Oxfordshire. In 1928 she published her first novel, War Among Ladies, a somewhat controversial novel critiquing the English girls’ high school system. It was, perhaps, the subject-matter and her position as a teacher that led her to adopt the pseudonym Eleanor Scott. She stuck to it for Randalls Round, her second book, a collection of weird tales which came out in 1929 (although this includes the story The Room which had already been previously published by Cornhill Magazine under Leys’ own name). As Scott she also published other novels and two collective biographies for children – Adventurous Women (1933) and Heroic Women (1939). She is also likely the author of two detective novels written by a certain “P.R. Shore”.


Randalls Round was published during what can be considered the heyday of the classic English supernatural tale, at a time when the likes of M.R. James, Algernon Blackwood, May Sinclair, E.F. Benson and Walter de la Mare were still active. In the light of this fierce competition, it might not be surprising that Scott’s stories, which sometimes come across as rather derivative, failed to make an impact. This is a pity because, even when Scott appears to be following other models, her work is not simply good, but genuinely creepy. Randalls Round has been reissued by a number of small presses in the past years, but is now available as part of British Library’s brilliant Tales of the Weird series, which will surely give Scott’s stories the wider exposure they deserve.

In her foreword, Scott claims that the nine pieces in the collection “had their origin in dreams”, hence why this new edition is subtitled Nine Nightmares. Well, if that was really the case, Scott must have had some pretty restless nights! Whatever the inspiration, however, much authorial work has gone into crafting the “detached incidents and scenes” typical of dreams into taut little chillers.

One of the highlights is the title-piece, a story which, like others in the book, would today be clearly shelved under what is now recognised as the distinct sub-genre of folk horror. A male undergraduate visits the Cotswolds village of Randalls and witnesses what he thinks is a quaint folk dance in the market square. Exploring further, he discovers that the origins of this dance lay in a ceremony, probably sacrificial, which used to be performed around a local long barrow known as Randalls Bank. Against express advice, he decides to explore the barrow on the night of All Hallows’ Eve, never a great idea if you’re the protagonist of a folk horror tale. Similar echoes of Machen haunt Simnel Acres Farm, which also features an Oxford undergraduate who falls prey to ancient influences. The Old Lady also features Oxford undergrads, although girls in this case, and a tale of vampirism and blood sacrifice which recalls Seaton’s Aunt by de la Mare and, possibly, Braddon’s Good Lady Ducayne.

Two other strong stories have a clear M.R. James feel to them. In The Twelve Apostles, a wealthy American who buys an allegedly haunted English manor, seeks a missing treasure linked to the private Catholic chaplain (and supposed alchemist) of the Squire of the Manor in Elizabethan times. In Celui-là the protagonist Maddox spends some days of rest on the Breton coast, staying with the local curate. Despite the curate’s warnings, he becomes uncommonly obsessed with a strange figure he spots during an evening walk and a strange box containing a parchment with a strange invocation written on it. In this story and The Room, about a group of six friends who dare each other to stay the night in a haunted chamber, I distinctly felt a philo-Catholic sensibility. As is my habit, I read Aaron Worth’s informative introduction to the volume after I finished the rest of the book, and was not at all surprised to learn of Scott’s Catholicism and her studies of Medieval mystery plays, both of which could be considered influences which added colour to her stories.

The volume includes two stories by one “N. Dennett” which are now generally attributed to Leys/Scott. Unburied Bane features a decrepit cottage containing a witch’s skull whereas The Menhir takes us back to full-on folk horror territory. I guess there are enough similarities with the rest of the stories to justify the attribution but, whatever their authorship, I felt that these two stories were more over the top than the rest of the volume and, consequently, less to my liking.

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