How Did We End Up With This Sheet?

Happy Friday-before-Halloween, Morning Rounds readers! Brianna here to talk about the history of the sheet ghost, a classic Halloween image that has gone from seriously spooky to sillily spoopy.

The sheet ghost was not always the quintessential Western image of a dead spirit. During the Renaissance, ghosts were often depicted in what they wore as a living person — or even in armor, as was the case for Hamlet’s father — in theatrical productions. This trend continued in the centuries following; in literature, we see ghosts appear similarly — Jacob Marley appears in his mortal attire while adorned with chains in “A Christmas Carol.” That said, there are earlier depictions of the dead as skeletons wearing burial shrouds, such as in Robert de Lisle’s Psalter in the 1300s. It just doesn’t seem to have been ubiquitous.

The real starting point when the sheet ghost became the norm is at the beginning of the 19th century, potentially thanks to a historic murder case. A “ghost” dressed in a white shroud was an assailant in the London village of Hammersmith. Villagers claimed to be confronted, and at times physically attacked, by said ghost. There was even a rumor a pregnant woman “died of fright” after her encounter. One evening, local man Francis Smith decided to take it upon himself to rid the town of the ghost, fatally shooting Thomas Milwood.
Milwood was a bricklayer wearing the traditional uniform of his occupation — white linen trousers, a white flannel waistcoat, a white apron, and white shoes. Prior to his death, his family asked him to wear a coat over these garments after two mistaken ghostly identities (to which of course the husband and son-in-law stubbornly said to his wife and mother-in-law: “nah”). Smith was eventually convicted of Milwood’s murder, but received a royal pardon under the condition of completing one year’s hard labor. Thus began a 180-year struggle in England to nail down the legal definition of “self defense.”
Eventually, local shoemaker John Graham came forward as the Hammersmith “ghost,” saying he scared villagers to get revenge on his apprentices who’d told his children scary ghost stories. Which is… a choice. Interesting that this did not lead to any legal precedent in which your own actions cause such a public nuisance that it leads to an innocent man’s death. But I digress.

Perhaps the case of the Hammersmith “ghost” is the catalyst for a cultural shift — after all, someone dressing as a “ghost” did lead to death. By the mid-19th century, stagings of “Hamlet” and other plays began to utilize “spirit drapery,” depicting ghosts in burial shrouds when the intended effect is to scare. It certainly made things easier, as theatrical productions of “Hamlet” found the classic armor garb to be clunky. Audience attitudes had similarly turned, finding clothing-adorned ghosts to be indistinguishable from living characters and insufficiently spooky. Later in the century and into the turn of the 20th century, Victorian spirit photography also became a trend that sparked fear in many and led some to believe this was unequivocal proof that unseen spirits exist within our material world (though the public would eventually learn the term “double exposure”).

The haunting effect of the sheet ghost lasted until the mid-20th century. From here, things get a lot spoopier. “The Lonesome Ghosts” came out in 1937, illustrating its ghosts as transparent and fashioned with loose garb resembling sheets. These ghosts are sillier in nature, contrasting the sheet ghost’s origins 100 years prior as a scarier alternative to traditional costuming. By 1945, the silly sheet ghost became the cultural norm thanks to Casper the Friendly Ghost. And of course, who can forget the iconicism of the “Scooby Doo” intro and its sheet ghosts? (“Well well well, if it isn’t our old friend, Bluestone the Great?”)

In our modern age, sheet ghosts are the epitome of cute. You can DIY your own decorative Halloween sheet ghosts or little ghosties made from cheesecloth, really leaning into that “shroud” vibe (both of which I did; the header image is the ghost on my front porch, Phoebe, who lights up at nighttime). You can make TikToks of a ghost photoshoot with your favorite people or pets. None of it would be considered nefarious or scary.

But if you do cut two eyeholes in an extra bed sheet and throw it over your head, spare a thought for Thomas Milwood, who just wanted to work the night shift in peace.


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