 Chapter 7 Curious Secrets And now I will unclass a secret book, and to your quick conceiving discontent I'll read you matter deep and dangerous. Henry IV. I. Act I. Scene III The depository of the secrets of all the world, was the inscription over one of the brazen portals of Fakredin's valley, reminding us of what Ossian said to Oscar when he resigned to him the command of the morrow's battle. Be thine the secret hill to night, referring to the Gaelic custom of the commander of an army or retiring to a secret hill the night before a battle, to hold communion with the ghosts of departed heroes. But, as it has been often remarked of secrets, both political and social, they are only too frequently made to be revealed. A truth illustrative of Ben Johnson's words in The Case Is Unaltered A secret in his mouth is like a wild bird put into a cage, whose door no sooner opens but tis out. In family history some of the strangest secrets have related to concealment of birth, many are fraught having been devised to alter or perpetuate the line of issue. Early in the present century a romantic story which was the subject of conversation in the circles both of London and Paris related to Lady Nubera, who had always considered herself the daughter of Lorenzo Chiappini, former jailer of Modigliana, and subsequently constable at Florence, and of his wife, Vincenzia Dilligenti. Possessed in her girlhood of fascinating appearance and charming manners, she came out as a ballet dancer at the principal opera at Florence, and one night she so impressed Lord Nubera that by means of a golden bribe he had her transferred from the stage to his residence. His conduct towards her was tender and affectionate, and in spite of the disparity of years he afterwards married her, introducing her to the London world as Lady Nubera. Sometime after her marriage, according to a memoir stated to be written by the fair claimant of the House of Olio, and printed in Paris before the Revolution of 1830 but immediately suppressed, when staying at Siena she received a posthumous letter from her supposed father, which from its extraordinary disclosures threw her into complete bewilderment. It ran as follows. My Lady, I have at length reached the term of my days without having revealed to any one a secret which directly concerns me and yourself. The secret is this. On the day when you were born of a person whom I cannot name and who now is in the other world, a male child of mine was also born. I was requested to make an exchange, and considering the state of my finances in those days I accepted to the often repeated and advantageous proposals, and at that time I adopted you as my daughter in the same manner as my son was adopted by the other party. I observe that heaven has repaired my faults by placing you in better circumstances than your father, although his rank was somewhat similar. This enables me to end my days with some comfort. Let this serve to extenuate my culpability towards you. I entreat your pardon for my fault. I desire you, if you please, to keep this transaction secret in order that the world shall not have any opportunity to speak of an affair which is now without remedy. This, my letter, you will not receive until after my death. Lorenzo Ciappini After receiving this letter, Lady Nubra sent for Ringretzi, the confessor of the late Jailer, and Fabroni, a confessor of the late Countess Borghi, and was told by the former that in his opinion she was the daughter of the Grand Duke Leopold, but the latter disagreed, saying, Lady is the daughter of a French lord called Count de Dranville, who had considerable property in the Champagne, and I entertain no doubt that if your ladyship were to go to that province you would there find valuable documents which I have been told were there left in the hands of a respectable ecclesiastic. It is further stated that two old sisters of the name of Bandini, who had been born and educated in the house of the Borghis, and been during all their life in the service of that family, informed Lady Nubra, and afterwards in the ecclesiastical court of Faenza, that in the year 1773 they followed their master and mistress to Modelliana, where the latter usually had their summer residence in a chateau belonging to them, that, arriving there, they found a French Count, Louis-Juanville, and his Countess, established in the Praetorial Palace. They further affirmed that between the Borghis and this family a very intimate intercourse was soon established, and that they daily interchanged visits. Furthermore the foreign lord, it is said, was extremely familiar with persons of the lowest rank, and particularly with the jailer Chiapini, who lived under the same roof. The wives of both were pregnant, and it appeared that they expected their delivery much about the same time, but the Count was tormented with a grievous anxiety. His wife, had as yet had no male offspring, and he much feared that they would never be blessed with any. Having communicated his project to the Borghis, he at length made an overture to the jailer, telling him that he apprehended the loss of a very great inheritance, which absolutely depended on the birth of a son, and that he was disposed, in case the Countess gave birth to a daughter, to exchange her for a boy, and that for this exchange he would liberally recompense the father. The man, highly pleased at finding his fortune thus unexpectedly made, immediately accepted the offer, and the bargain was concluded. Immediately after the accouchement of the ladies, one of the bandinis went to the Pretorial Palace to see the newborn babies, when some women in the house told her that the exchange had already taken place, and Chiapini himself being present confirmed their statement. But as there were several persons in the secret, however solemnly secrecy had been promised, public rumour soon accused the barterers. The Count Louis, fearing the people's indignation, concealed himself in the Convent of St Bernard at Brisiguela. The lady it is added departed with her suppositious son, her own daughter being baptized and called Maria Stella Petronella, and designated as the daughter of Lorenzo Chiapini and Vincenzia Deligenti. Having learnt so much, Lady Nubera being in Paris in the year 1823 had recourse to a stratagem by which she expected to gain additional information. Accordingly she inserted in the newspapers that she had been desired by the Countess Pompeo Borghi to discover in France a Count Louis-Juanville, who in the year 1773 was with his Countess at Modigliana, where the latter gave birth to a son on the 16th of April, and that if either of these persons were still alive or the child born at Modigliana, she was empowered to communicate to them something of the highest importance. Subsequently to this advertisement she was waited upon by Colonel Juanville, but he derived his title only from Louis XVIII, and before the Colonel was out of the door she had a call from the Abbe de Saint-Far, whom she gave to understand that she was anxious to discover the identity of a birth connected with the sojourn with the late Comte de Juanville. In the course of conversation this Abbe is stated to have made most injudicious admissions, from which Lady Nubera gathered that he was the confidential agent of the Duke of Orleans, being currently said to be his illegitimate brother. Lady Nubera was now convinced in her own mind that she was the eldest child of the late Duke of Orleans, and hence was the first princess of the blood of France and the rightful heiress of immense wealth. But this discovery brought her no happiness, and subjected her to much discomfort and misery. Her story, whether true or false, will in all probability remain a mystery to the end of time, being one of those political puzzles which must remain an open question. Secret intrigue, however, at one time or another, has devised the most subtle plans for supplanting the rightful owner out of his birthright. A second wife, through jealousy, entering into some shameful compact, to defraud her husband's child by his former wife of his property in favour of her own. Such a secret conspiracy is connected with Draycott, and although it has been said to be one of the most mysterious in the whole range of English legends, yet, singular as the story may be, writes Sir Bernard Burke, No small portion of it is upon record as a thing not to be questioned, and it is not necessary to believe in supernatural agency to give all parties credit for having faithfully narrated their impressions. The main facts of this strange story are briefly told. Walter Long of Draycott had two wives, the second being Catherine, daughter of Sir John Tin of Longleet. Her arrival at Draycott, after the honeymoon, there were great rejoicings into which all entered save the heir to the houses of Draycott and Raxall, who were silent and sad. Once arrived in her new home, the mistress of Draycott lost no time in studying the character of her stepson, for she had an object in view which made it necessary that she should completely understand his character. Her design was in short that the young master of Draycott, the heir of all his father's property, the obstruction in the way of whatever children there may be by the second marriage, must be ruined, or at any rate so disgraced, as to provoke his father to disinherit him. Taking into her confidence her brother Sir Egremont Tin of Longleet, with his help she soon discovered that the youthful heir of Draycott was fond of wine and dice, and that he had, on more than one occasion, met with his father's displeasure for indulgence in such acts of dissipation. Having learnt too that the young man was kept on short supplies by his parsimonious father, and had often complained that he was not allowed sufficient pocket money for the bare expenses of his daily life, the crafty stepmother seized this opportunity for carrying out her treacherous and dishonourable conduct. Commiserating with the inexperienced youth in his want of money, and making him feel more than ever dissatisfied at his father's meanness to him, she quickly enlisted him on her side, especially when she gave him liberal supplies of money, and recommended him to enjoy his life whilst it was in his power to do so. With a full rather than an empty purse the young squire was soon seen with a cheerful party over the wine-bottle, and at another time with a gambling-group gathered round the dice-box. But this kind of thing suited admirably his stepmother, for she took good care that such excesses were brought under the notice of the lad's father, and magnified into heinous crimes. From time to time this unprincipled woman kept supplying the unsuspecting youth with money, and did all in her power to encourage him in his tastes for reckless living. Fresh stories of his son's dissipated conduct were continually being told to the master of Dracot until at last, influenced by the wiles of his charming wife, on the other by deeper wiles of his brother-in-law, he agreed to make out a will disinheriting his son by his first wife, and settling all his possessions on his second wife and her relations. Hitherto the secret entered into, by brother and sister, had been a perfect success, for not only was the son completely alienated from his father, but the latter deemed it a sin to make any provision for one who was given to drink and gambling. A draft will was drawn up by Sir Egremant Tin, and when approved of, was ordered to be copied by a clerk. But here comes the remarkable part of the tale. The work of engrossing demands a clear, bright light, and the slightest shadow intervening between the light and the parchment would be sure to interrupt operations. Such an interruption the clerk was suddenly subjected to when, on looking up, he beheld a white hand, a lady's delicate white hand, so placed between the light and the deed, as to obscure the spot on which he was engaged. The unaccountable hand, however, was gone almost as soon as noticed. The clerk, concluding that this was some optical delusion, proceeded with his work, and had come to the claws wherein the master of Dracot disinherited his son, when again the same ghostly hand was thrust between the light and the parchment. Terrified at this unearthly intervention, the clerk awoke Sir Egremant from his midnight slumbers, and told him what had occurred, adding that the spectre hand was no other than that of the first wife of the master of Dracot, who resented the cruel wrong done to her son. In due time the deed was engrossed by another clerk, and duly signed and sealed. But the white hand had not appeared in vain, for the clerk's curious adventure afterwards became the topic of general conversation, and the injustice done to the disinherited heir of Dracot excited so much sympathetic indignation, that the trustees of the late Lady Long arrested the old knight's corpse at the church door. Her nearest relations commenced a suit against the intended heir, and the result was a compromise between the parties, John Long taking possession of Roxall, while his other half-brother was allowed to retain Dracot, a settlement that, it is said, explains the division of the two estates which we find at the present day. The secret between the brother and sister was well kept, and whatever explanation may be given to the white hand, the story is as singular as any in the annals of domestic history. It was the betrayal of a secret, on the other hand, on the part of a woman that is traditionally said to have caused the sudden and tragic death of Richard, second Earl of Scarborough. This nobleman, it seems, was in the confidence of the king, and had been entrusted by him with the keeping of a most important secret. But, like most other favourites, the Earl was surrounded by enemies who were ever on the alert to compass his ruin, and, amidst other devices, they laid their plans to prevail on the unsuspecting Earl to betray the confidence which the king had implicitly reposed on him. Finding it, however, impossible by this means, to make him guilty of a breach of trust towards the king, they had recourse to another scheme which proved successful, and thereby irrevocably compromised him in the king's eyes. Having discovered that the Earl was in love with a certain lady, and was in the habit of frequently visiting her, some of his enemies discovered where she lived, and, calling on her, promised an exceeding rich reward if she could draw the royal secret from her lover and communicate it to them. Easily bought over by the offer of so rich a bribe, the treacherous woman, like Delilah of old, soon prevailed upon the Earl to give her the desired information, and the secret was revealed. As soon as the Earl's enemies were apprised of the same, they lost no time in hurrying to the king, and submitting to him the proofs of his protégé's imprudence. They gained their end. For the next time the Earl came into the royal presence, the king said to him, in a sad but firm voice, Lumley, you have lost a friend, and I a good servant. This was a bitter shock to the Earl, for he learnt now for the first time that she, in whom he had reposed his love and faith, had been his worst enemy, and that, as far as his relations to the king were concerned, he was disgraced as a man of honour in his estimation. With his proud and haughty spirit, unable to bear the misery and chagrin of his fall and ruin, he had recourse to the suicide's escape from trouble. He shot himself. But another secret, no less tragic, and of a far more sensational nature, related to a certain Mr. MacFarlane. One Sunday, in the autumn of the year 1719, Sir John Swinton, of Swinton in Berwickshire, left his little daughter Margaret, who had been indisposed through a childish ailment, at home when he went with the rest of his family to church, taking care to lock the outer door. After the lapse of an hour or so, the child had become dull through being alone, and she made her way into the parlour below stairs, where on her arrival she hastily bolted the door to keep out any ghost or bogey, stories relating to which had oftentimes excited her fears. But great was her terror when, on looking round, she was confronted by a tall lady, gracefully attired, and possessed of remarkable handsome features. The poor child stood motionless with terror, afraid to go forwards or backwards. Her throbbing heart, however, quickly recovered from its fright, as the mysterious lady, with a kind eye and sweet smile, addressed her by name, and, taking her hand, spoke. Margaret, you may tell your mother what you have seen, but for your life, to no one else. If you do much evil may come of it, some of which will fall on yourself. You are young, but you must promise to be silent as the grave itself in this matter. Full of childish wonderment, Margaret, half in shyness and half in fear, at being an agent in so strange a secret, turned her head towards the window. But on turning round found the lady had disappeared, although the door remained bolted. Her curiosity was now more than before aroused, and she concluded that after all this lady must be one of those fairies she had often read of in books, and it was whilst pondering on what she had seen that the family returned from church. Surprised at finding Margaret bolted in this parlor, Sir John learnt that she had been frightened she knew not why, at the solitude of her own room, and had bolted herself in the parlor. Although she was soon laughed out of her childish fears, Lady Swinton was quick enough to perceive that Margaret had not communicated everything, and insisted upon knowing the whole truth. The child made no objection, as she had not been told to keep the secret from her mother. After describing all that happened, Lady Swinton kissed her daughter tenderly and said, Since you have kept the secret so well, you shall know something more of this strange lady. Thereupon Lady Swinton pushed aside one of the oaken panels in the parlor, which revealed a small room beyond, where sat the mysterious lady. And now, Margaret dear, said her mother, Listen to me, this lady is persecuted by cruel men, who, if they find her, will certainly take her life. She is my guest, she is now yours, and I am sure I need not tell you the meanest peasant in all Scotland would shame to betray his guest. Margaret promised to keep the secret, never evincing the slightest curiosity to know who the lady was. And it is said she had reached her twentieth year, when one day the adventure of her childhood was explained. It seems that the lady in question was a Mrs. MacFarlane, daughter of Colonel Charles Straighton, Azillus Jacobite. When about nineteen years old, she married John MacFarlane, law agent of Simon Fraser, Lord Lovett, who was many years her senior. Soon after her marriage Mrs. MacFarlane made the acquaintance of Captain John Caley, a commissioner of customs, and on September the twenty-ninth, seventeen sixteen, he called on her at Edinburgh, when, for reasons only known to herself or him, she fired two shots at him with a pistol, one of which pierced his heart. According to Sir Bernard Burke it was when she would not yield to Captain Caley's immoral overtures that the latter vowed to blacken her character, a threat which he so successfully carried out that not one of her female acquaintances upon whom she called would admit her. Not one of all she met in the street would acknowledge her. Desperate at this villainy on his part, Mrs. MacFarlane, under pretence of agreeing to Captain Caley's overtures, sent for him, when fully confident that he was about to reap the fruit of his infamous daring, he obeyed her summons. But no sooner had he entered the room than she locked the door, and, snatching up a brace of pistols, she exclaimed, Wretch, you have blasted the reputation of a woman who never did you the slightest wrong. You have fixed an indelible stain upon the child at her bosom, and all this because, coward as you are, you thought that there was no one to take her part. At the same time, it is said, she fired two shots at him with a pistol, one of which pierced his heart. Her husband asserted, however, that she fired to save herself from outrage. An explanation which she affirmed was only too true. Her husband also declared that his wife was desirous of sending for a magistrate and of telling him the whole story, but that he advised her against it. But not appearing to stand her trial in the ensuing February, she was outlawed and obtained refuge in the mansion house of the Swinton family in the concealed apartment already described. According to Sir Walter Scott, she returned and lived and died in Edinburgh. But her life must have been comparatively short, as her husband married again on October the 6th, 1719. A kin to this dramatic episode may be mentioned one concerning Robert Percival, the second son of the right honourable Sir John Percival, when reading for the law in his chambers in Lincoln's Inn. The clock had just struck the hour of midnight, when, on looking up from his book, he was astonished to see a figure standing between himself and the door, completely muffled up in a long cloak so as to defy recognition. Who are you? But the figure made no answer. What do you want? No reply. The figure stood motionless, thinking it made a low hollow laugh, the young student struck at the intruder with his sword, but the weapon met with no resistance and not a single drop of blood stained it. This was amazing and still no answer. Determined to solve the mystery of this strange being, he cast aside his cloak when low he saw his own apparition, bloody and ghostly, whereat he was so astonished that he immediately swooned away, but recovering he saw the spectre depart. At first this occurrence left the most unpleasant impressions on his mind, but as days passed by without anything happening, the warning, or whatever it was, faded gradually from his memory, and he lived as before, drinking and quarrelling, managing to embroil himself at play with the celebrated bow-fielding. The day at last came, however, when his equanimity was disturbed for, as he was walking from his chambers in Lincoln's Inn to a favourite tavern in the Strand, he imagined that he was followed by an ungainly-looking man. He tried to avoid him, but the man followed on, and after a time fully convinced that he was dogged by this man, he demanded who he was and why he followed him. But the man replied, I am not following you, I am following my own business. By no means satisfied, young Percival crossed over to the opposite side of the street, but the man followed him step by step, and before many minutes had elapsed, he was joined by another man, as ungainly-looking as himself. Percival, no longer doubting that he was followed, called upon the two men to retire at their peril, and although he succeeded in making them take to their heels after a sharp sword skirmish, he was himself wounded in the leg, and made his way to the nearest tavern. This unpleasant encounter, reviving the memory of the ghastly figure he had seen in his chambers, made him feel that he was a doomed man, and he was not far wrong. For that night, near the so-called Maypole in the Strand, he was found dead, but how he died was a secret never divulged. Another equally strange incident connected with this mysterious crime happened to a Mrs. Brown. Perhaps from her holding some situation in the family of his uncle, Sir Robert. On this fatal night, writes Sir Bernard Burke, she dreamt that one Mrs. Shearman, the housekeeper, came to her and asked for a sheet. She demanded for what purpose, to which Mrs. Shearman replied, poor Master Robert is killed, and it is to wind him in. Curious to say, in the morning Mrs. Shearman came at an early hour into her room and asked for a sheet. For what purpose inquired Mrs. Brown? Poor Mr. Robert is murdered, was the reply. He lies dead in the Strand watch house, and it is to wind his body in. In the year 1848, the Warwick magistrates investigated a most extraordinary and preposterous charge of murder against Lord Lee, his deceased mother and persons employed by them, in the course of which, inquiry, one of the accusers professed to have been in possession of a secret connected with the matter for a number of years. The accusation seems to have originated from the attempt of certain parties to seize Stonely Abbey on the pretense that it rightfully belonged to them and not Lord Lee. In November 1844 a mob took possession of the place. For one George Lee, several of the ring-leaders were tried for the offence and not fewer than twenty-eight were convicted. The account of this curious conspiracy, as given in the annual register, goes on to say that Richard Barnett made the charge of murder. In 1814 he was employed under Lady Julia Lee and her son at the Abbey, where a number of workmen were engaged in making alterations. Four of these men were murdered by large stones having been allowed to follow them and their bodies were placed within an abutment of a bridge and then enclosed with masonry. Another man was shot by Hay, a keeper. In cross-examination the witness said he had kept silence on these atrocities for thirty years because he feared Lord Lee and because he did not expect to obtain anything by speaking. He first divulged the secret to those who were trying to seize the estate as this information he thought would help them to get it for the murders were committed to keep out the proper owners. In the course of the inquiry John Wilcox was required to repeat evidence which he had given before a master of chancery, but instead of doing so the man confessed that he was not sober when he made the declaration. He further declared how some servants of the Lee family had burned pictures and had been paid to keep the secrets of the house. The whole story, however, was a deliberate and willful fabrication. The facts were contradicted and circumstantially refuted and, of course, so worthless a charge was dismissed by the bench. End of Chapter 7 One of the most curious and widespread instances of deception and credulity is the magic potency which has long been supposed to reside in the so-called Hand of Glory, the withered hand of a dead man. Numerous stories are told of its marvellous properties as a charm and on the continent many are wonderful curies said to have been wrought by its agency. Sothe, it may be remembered, in his Thalaba the Destroyer has placed it in the hands of the Enchanter King Mohereb where he would lull to sleep, so hack the giant keeper of the caves of Babylon. And the history of this wonder-working talisman as used by Mohereb is thus graphically told. Thus he said, and from his wallet drew a human hand, shriveled and dry and black, and fitting as he spake, a taper in his hold pursued, a murderer on the stake had died. I drove the vulture from his limbs and lopped the hand that did the murder and drew up the tendon strings to close its grasp and in the sun and wind parched it, nine weeks exposed. From the many accounts given of this dead hand we gather that it has generally been considered necessary that the hand should be taken from a man who has been put to death for some crime. Then, when dried and prepared with certain weird ungants, it is ready for use. Sir Walter Scott, in The Antiquary, has introduced this object of superstition making the German adventurer Deustus Vithal describe it to the assembled party among the ruins at St. Ruth's, thus jocosely. The hand of glory is very well known in the countries where your versey progenitors did live, and it is a hand cut off from a dead man as he has been hanged for murder and dried very nice in the smoke of juniper wood. Then you do take something of the fetch of the bear and of the badger and of the great Aber, as you do call the grand boar, and of the little sucking child as he has not been christened, for that is very essential, and you do make a candle and put into the hand of glory at the proper hour and minute with the proper ceremonials, and he who seekers for treasures shall never find none at all. Possessed of these mystic qualities, such a hand could not fail to find favour with those engaged in any kind of evil and enterprise, and on account of its lulling to sleep all persons within the circle of its influence, was of course held invaluable by thieves and burglars. Thus the cases recorded of some thieves, who a few years ago attempted to commit a robbery on a certain estate in the county of Meath to quote a contemporary account of the affair, it appears that they entered the house armed with a dead man's hand with a lighted candle in it, believing in the superstitious notion that a candle placed in a dead man's hand will not be seen by any but by those by whom it is used, and also that if a candle in a dead hand be introduced into a house, it will prevent those who may be asleep from awakening. The inmates, however, were alarmed, and the robbers fled, leaving the hand behind them. Another story communicated by the Reverend S. Baringold tells how two thieves, having come to a lodge in a public house with a view to robbing it, asked permission to pass the night through the fire and obtained it. But when the house was quiet, the servant girl, suspecting mischief, crept downstairs and looked through the keyhole. She saw the men open a sack and take out a dry withered hand. They anointed the fingers with some ungwints, and lighted them. Each finger flamed, but the thumb they could not light. That was because one of the household was not asleep. The girl hastened to a master, but found it impossible to arouse him. She tried every other sleeper, but could not break the charmed sleep. In the past, stealing down into the kitchen while the thieves were busy over her master's strongbox, she secured the hand, blew out the flames, and at once the whole house was aroused. Among other qualities, which have been supposed to belong to a dead man's hand, are its medicinal virtues, in connection with which may be mentioned the famous Dead Hand, which was, in years past, kept at Bryn Hall, Lancashire. There are several stories relating to this gruesome relic, one being that it was the hand of Father Arrowsmith, a priest, who, according to some accounts, is said to have been put to death for his religion in the time of William III. It is recorded that when about to suffer, he desired his spiritual attendant to cut off his right hand, which should ever after have power to work miraculous cures on those who had faith to believe in its efficacy. This relic, which forms the subject of one of Robie's traditions of Lancashire, was preserved with great care in a white silk bag, and was resorted to by many diseased persons, who were reported to have derived wonderful cures from its application. Thus the case is related of a woman who, attacked with the smallpox, had this dead hand in bed with her every night for six weeks, and of a poor lad living near Manchester, who was touched with it for the cure of scruffulous sores. It has been denied, however, that Father Arrowsmith was hanged for witnessing a good confession, and Mr Robie, in his traditions of Lancashire, says that, having been found guilty of a rape, in all probability this story of his martyrdom, and of the miraculous attestation to the truth of the cause for which he suffered, were contrived for the purpose of preventing the scandal which would have come upon the church through the delinquency of an unworthy member. It is further said that one of the family of the Kenyans attended as undersheriff at the execution, and that he refused the culprit some trifling favour at the gallows, whereupon Arrowsmith denounced a curse upon him to wit that whilst the family could boast of an heir, so long they should never want a cripple, a prediction which was supposed by the credulous to have been literally fulfilled. But this story is discredited, the real facts of the case, no doubt, being that he was hanged under sanction of an atrocious law, for no other reason but because he had taken orders as a Roman Catholic priest, and had endeavoured to prevail upon others to be of his own faith. According to another version of the story, Edmund Arrowsmith was a native of Haydoch, in the parish of Winwick. He entered the Roman Catholic College of Dwight, where he was educated, afterwards being ordained priest, but in the year 1628 he was apprehended and bought to Lancaster on the charge of being a priest, contrary to the laws of the realm, and was executed on the 26th of August 1628, his last words being, As recently as the year 1736, a boy of twelve years, the son of Carol Howardan, of Appleton within Widdness, County of Lancaster, is stated to have been cured of what appeared to be a fatal malady by the application of Father Arrowsmith's hand, which was affected in the following manner. The boy had been ill fifteen months, and was at length deprived of the use of his limbs, with loss of his memory and impaired sight, in this condition, which the physicians had declared hopeless. It was suggested to his parents that his wonderful cures had been affected by the hand of the martyred saint. It was advisable to try its effects upon their afflicted child. The holy hand was accordingly procured from Bryn, packed in a box and wrapped in linen. Mrs. Howardan, having explained to the invalid boy her hopes and intentions, applied the back part of the dead hand to his back, stroking it down each side of the backbone, and making the sign of the cross, which she accompanied with a fervent prayer that Jesus Christ would aid it with his blessing. Having twice repeated this operation, the patient, who had before been utterly helpless, rose from his seat and walked about the house to the surprise of seven persons who had witnessed the miracle. From that day the boy's pains left him, his memory was restored, and his health became re-established. This mystic hand, it seems, was removed from Bryn Hall to Garswood, a seat of the Gerard family, and subsequently to the priest's house at Ashton in Megafield. But many ludicrous tales are current in the neighbourhood of pilgrims having been rather roughly handled by some of the servants, such as getting a good beating with a wooden hand, so that the patients rapidly retraced their steps without having had the application of the holy hand. It is curious to find that such a ghastly relic as a dead hand should have been preserved in many a country house, and used as a talisman, to which we find an amusing and laughable reference in the Inglesby legends. Open lock to the dead man's knock, fly, bolt and bar and hand, nor move nor swerve, joint, muscle or nerve at the spell of the dead man's hand. Sleep all who sleep, wake all who wake, but be as dead for the dead man's sake. The story goes on to tell how, influenced by the mysterious spell of the enchanted hand, neither lock, bolt nor bar avails, neither stout oak panel, thick studded with nails, but heavy and harsh the hinges creak, though they had been oiled in the course of the week, and the door opens wide as wide may be, and there they stand, that wondrous band, lit by the light of the glorious hand, by one, by two, by three. At Dainesfield, Barkshire, so-called from an ancient horseshoe entrenchment of great extent near the house, supposed to be of Danish origin, is preserved a withered hand, which has long had the reputation of being that presented by Henry I to Reading Abbey, and reverence there as the hand of James the Apostle. It answers exactly to the incorrupt hand described by Hovedon, and was found among the ruins of the Abbey, where it is thought to have been secreted at the dissolution. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Strange Pages from Family Papers This is LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Strange Pages from Family Papers by T. F. Thistleton-Dyer Chapter 9 Devil Compacts Mephistopheles, I will bind myself to your service here and never sleep nor slumber at your call. When we meet on the other side, you shall do as much for me. Goethe's Faust The well-known story of Faust reminds us of the many similar weird tales which have long held a prominent place in family traditions. But in the majority of cases, the devil is cheated out of his bargain by some spell against which his influence is powerless. According to the popular notion, compacts are frequently made with the devil by which he is bound to complete, for instance, a building, as a house, a church, a bridge or the like, within a certain period. But through some artifice, by which the soul of the person for whom he is doing the work is saved, the completion of the undertaking is prevented. Thus the cock is made to crow, because like all spirits that shun the light of the sun, the devil loses his power at break of day. The idea of bartering the soul for temporary gain has not been confined to any country, but as an article of terrible superstition has been widespread. Mr. Lecky has pointed out how, in the fourteenth century, the bar reliefs on cathedrals frequently represent men kneeling down before the devil and devoting themselves to him as his servants. In our own country, such compacts were generally made at midnight in some lowly churchyard or amid the ruins of some castle. But fortunately for mankind, by resorting to spells and counterspells, the binding effects of these devil bonds, as they have been termed were in most cases, rendered ineffectual, the devil thereby losing the advantage. It is noteworthy that the wisdom of the serpent is frequently outwitted by crafty woman or a cunning priest. A well-known Lancashire tradition gives a humorous account on one occasion deluded by the shrewdness of a clever woman. Barely three miles from Clithero, on the high road to Gisborne, stood a public house with this title, the Dool-upon-Dun, which means the Devil-upon-Dun horse. The story runs that a poor tailor sold himself to Satan for seven years, on his granting him certain wishes, after which term, according to the contract, signed as his customary with the victim's own blood, his soul was to become the devil's own. When the fatal day arrived, on the advice of his wife, he consulted the holy father at Shelley, in his extremity. At last the hour came which the evil one claimed his victim, who, trembling contended that the contract was won from him, by fraud and dishonest pretenses, and had not been fulfilled. He even ventured to hint at his lack of power to bestow riches or any great gift, on which Satan was goaded into granting him another wish. Said the trembling tailor, I wish there were riding back again to thy quarters on Yonder-Dun horse, and never able to plague me again, or any other poor wretch whom thou hast gotten into thy clutches. The words when I sooner uttered than the Devil, with a roar which was heard as far as calm, went away riveted to the back of this Dun horse, the tailor watching his departure almost beside himself for joy. He lived for many years in health and affluence, and at his death, one of his relatives having brought to the house where he resided, turned it into an inn, having for his sign, the doll upon Dun. On it was depicted, old horny, mounted on a scraggy Dun horse without saddle or bridle, the terrified steed being often away at full gallop from the door, while a small, hilarious tailor with shears and measures fewed his departure with anything but grief or disapprobation. The authors of Langashire Legends describe in this old house gabled black-and-white edifices now fast disappearing under the march of improvement. Many windows of little lozen, shaped panes set in lead might be seen here in all various stages of renovation and decay. Over the door, till lately, swung the old and quaint sign, attesting the truth of the tradition. Occasionally similar bargains have been rendered ineffectual by cunning device. In the north wall of the church of Trimerchean, north Wales, has long been shown the tomb of a former vicar, who was also celebrated as a necromancer, flourishing in the middle of the 14th century. It is reported that he proved himself more clever than the wicked one himself. A bargain was made between them that the vicar should practice the black art with impunity during his life, but that the devil should possess his body after death, whether he were buried within or without the church. But the worthy vicar dexterously cheated his ally of his bargain for being buried within the church wall itself. A similar tradition is told of other localities and amongst them of Barn Hall, in the parish of Tolicent Knights on the border of the Essex Marshes. In the middle of a field is shown an enclosed, uncultivated spot where, the legend says, it was originally intended to erect the hall, had not the devil come by night and destroyed the work of the day. This kind of thing went on for some time. When it was arranged that a knight, attended by two dogs, should watch for the author of this mischief. He had not long to wait, for, in the quiet of the night, the Prince of Darkness made his appearance, bent on his mischievous errand. A tussle ensued, in the course of which, snatching up a beam from the building, he hurled it to the site of the present hall, exclaiming, Where so ere this beam shall fall, there shall stand Barn Hall. But the devil, very angry at being thus foiled by the night, vowed that he would have him at his death, whether he was buried in the church or out of it. But this doom was averted by burying him in the wall, half in and half out of the church. At Brent Pelham Church Hearts, too, there is a tomb of one Pierre Shonks, and there is a tale current in the neighbourhood, that the devil swore he would have him, no matter whether buried within or without the church. So, as a means of escape, he was built up in the wall of the sacred edifice. Another extraordinary story has long been told of Hermitage Castle, one of the most famous of the border keeps in the days of its splendour. It's not surprising, therefore, that for many years past it has had the reputation of being haunted, having been described as Haunted Hermitage, where long by spells mysterious bound, they paced their round with lifeless smile, and shake with restless foot the guilty pile, till sink the smouldering towers beneath the burdened ground. It is popularly said that Lord Soulis, the evil hero of Hermitage, in an unguarded moment made a compact with the devil, who appeared to him in the shape of a spirit wearing a red cap, which gained its hue from the blood of human victims in which it was steeped. Lord Soulis sold himself to the devil, and in return he was permitted to summon his familiar whether he was desirous of doing so, by wrapping thrice on an iron chest, the condition being that he never looked in the direction of the spirit. But one day, whether wittingly or not has never been ascertained, he failed to comply with this stipulation, and his doom was sealed. But even then the foul fiend kept the letter of the compact. Lord Soulis was protected by an unholy charm against any injury from rope or steel, hence cords could not bind him, and steel could not slay him. But when at last he was delivered over to his enemies, it was found necessary to adopt the ingenious and effective expedient of rolling him up in a sheet of lead and boiling him to death, and so On a circle of stones they placed the pot on a circle of stones, but barely nine. They heated it red and fiery hot and the burnished brass did glimmer and shine. They rolled him up in a sheet of lead, a sheet of lead for a funeral pool. They plunged him into the cauldron red, and melted him body, lead, bones and all. This was the terrible end of the body of Lord Soulis, but his spirit is supposed to still linger on the scene, and once every seven years he keeps trist with red cap on the scene of his former devilries. And still, when seven years are o'er, is heard the jarring sound when hollow-oaps the charming door of chamber underground. A tradition well-known in Yorkshire relates how on the Eagles' crag, otherwise named the Witch's horse-block, the lady of Burntor Tower made that strange compact with the devil, whereby she not only became mistress of the country around, but the dreaded queen of the Lancashire Witches. It seems that this lady's sable was possessed of almost unrivaled beauty, and scarcely a day passed without some fresh admirers seeking her hand. An additional attraction being her great wealth, her intellectual attainments, too, were commonly said to be far beyond those of her sex, and often times she would visit the Eagles' crag in order to study nature and admire the varied aspects of the surrounding country. It was on these occasions that Lady Sibyl often felt a desire to possess supernatural powers, and in an unwary moment it is said that she was induced to sell her soul to the devil, in order that she might be able to take apart in the nightly revelries of the famous Lancashire Witches. It is added that the bond was duly attested with her blood, and that, in consequence of this compact, her utmost wishes were at all times granted. Hapton Tower was, at this time, occupied by a junior branch of the townally family, and, although Lord William had long been a suitor for the hand of Lady Sibyl, his proposals were constantly rejected. In his despair he determined to consult a famous Lancashire Witch, one mother Helston, who promised him success in the ensuing All Hallows Eve. When the day arrived, in accordance with her directions, he went out hunting, and on nearing Eagle's crag he startled a milk-white doe. But after scouring the country for miles, the hounds being well nigh exhausted, he returned to the crag. At this crisis a strange hound joined them, the familiar of Mother Helston, which had been sent to catch Lady Sibyl, who had assumed the disguise of the white doe. The remainder of the curious family legend, as told by Mr Harland, is briefly this. During the night, Hapton Tower was shaken as by an earthquake, and in the morning the captured doe appeared as the fair heiress of Burnshaw. Counter spells were adopted, her powers of witchcraft were suspended, and before many days had passed Lord William had the happiness to lead his newly wedded bride to his ancestral home. But within a year she had renewed her diabolical practices, which reached between her husband and herself. Happily a reconciliation was eventually affected, but her bodily strength gave way, and her health rapidly declined. When it became evident that the hour of her death was drawing near, Lord William obtained the services of the neighbouring clergy, and by their holy offices the devil's bond was cancelled. Soon afterwards Lady Sibyl died in peace, but Burnshaw Tower was from that time deserted. Popular tradition however still alleges that her grave was dug where the Dark Eagle's crag shoots out its cold bear-peak into the sky. And on the eve of all hallows the hound and the milk-white doe are supposed by the peasantry to meet on the crag, pursued by a spectre huntsman in full chase. It is further added that the belated peasant crosses himself at the sound, remembering the sad fate of Lady Sibyl of Burnshaw Tower. It is curious to find no lesser person than Sir Francis Drake charged with having been befriended by the devil, and the many marvellous stories current respecting him still linger among the Devonshire peasantry. By the aid of the devil it is said he was enabled to destroy the Spanish Armada, and his connection with the old Abbey of Buckland is equally singular. An extensive building attached to the Abbey for instance, which was no doubt used as barns and stables after the place had been deprived of its religious character, was reported to have been built by the devil in three nights. After the first night writes Mr. Hunt The butler, astonished at the work done, resolved to watch and see how it was performed. Consequently on the second night he mounted into a large tree and hid himself between the forks of its five branches. At midnight, so the story goes the devil came riding teams of oxen, and as some of them were lazy he plucked this tree from the ground and used it as a goat. The poor butler lost his senses and never recovered them. As it has been truly remarked On the waters that washed the shores of the County of Devon were achieved many of those triumphs which makes a Francis Drake's life read more like a romance and a sobo-chronicle of facts. The extraordinary traditions told respecting him have largely invested his life with the supernatural but whatever may have been the nature of his dealings with the devil we are told that he has had to pay dearly for any earthly advantages he may have derived therefrom being forced to drive at night a black hearse drawn by headless horses and urged on by running devils and yelping headless dogs along the road from Tavistock to Plymouth. Among the many tales related in which the demoniacal element holds a prominent place there is one relating to the projected marriage of his wife. It seems that Sir Francis was abroad and his wife not hearing from him for seven years concluded he must be dead and hence was at liberty to enter for a second time the holiest state of matrimony her choice was made and the nuptial day fixed but Sir Francis Drake was informed of all this by a spirit that attended him and just as the wedding was about to be solemnised he hastily charged one of his big guns and discharged a ball so true was the aim that the ball shot up right through the globe dashed through the roof of the church and fell with a loud explosion between the lady and her intended bridegroom. The spectators and assembled guests were thrown into the wildest confusion but the bride declared it was an indication that Sir Francis Drake was still alive and as she refused to allow another golden to be placed on her finger the intended ceremony was in the most abrupt and unexpected manner ended. The prettiest part of the tale remains to be told not long afterwards Sir Francis Drake returned and disguised as a beggar he solicited arms from his wife at her own door when unable to prevent smiling in the midst of a feigned tale of abject poverty she recognised him and a very joyful meeting took place and even Buckland Abbey did not escape certain strange influences some years ago a small box was found in a closet which had been long closed containing it is supposed family papers it was arranged that this box should be sent to the residents of the inheritor of the property the carriage was at the abbey door into which it was easily lifted the owner having taken his seat the coachman attempted to start his horses but in vain they would not they could not move more horses were brought and then the heavy farm horses and eventually all the oxen they were powerless to start the carriage at length a mysterious voice was heard declaring that the box could never be moved from Buckland Abbey the carriage easily by one man and a pair of horses galloped off with the carriage the famous Jewish banker Samuel Bernard who died in the year 1789 leaving an enormous property had it is said a favourite black cock which was regarded by many as uncanny and as unpleasantly connected with the amassing of his fortune the bird died a day or two before his master it would seem that in bygone years black cocks were extensively used and in sacrifices to the devil and Burns it may be remembered in his address to the dale says some cock or cat your rage must stop and a well-known French recipe for invoking the evil one runs thus take a black cock under your left arm and go at midnight to where four crossroads meet then cry three times Paul Noir or else utter Robert nine times and the devil will appear among the romantic stories told of Kersel Hall Lancashire it is related how Eustis Daunsey one of its chiefs in days of old would a maiden fair with a handsome fortune but she gave her heart to a rival suitor the wedding day was fixed but the prospect of her marriage was a terrible trouble to Eustis and threatened to mar the happiness of his life having however in his youth perfected himself in the black art he drew a magic circle at the witching hour of night and summoned the evil one consultation the meeting came off at which the usual bargain was quickly struck the soul of Eustis being bartered for the coveted body of the beautiful young lady the compact it was arranged should close at her death but the evil one was to remain meanwhile by the side of Daunsey in the form of an elegant self or genteel companion in due course the eventful day arrived when Eustis stood before the altar but the marriage ceremony was no sooner over than on leaving the sacred edifice the elements were found to be the reverse of favorable to them the flowers strewed before their feet stuck to their wet shoes and soaking rain cast a highly depressing influence on all the bridal surroundings and on arriving at the festive hall where the marriage feast was to be held the ill fortune of Eustis assumed another shape strange to say his bride began to melt away before his very eyes and thoroughly familiar as he was with the laws of magic a phase of mystery which was completely beyond his comprehension in short, for Eustis was the wretched victim of a complete swindle for while on the one hand something is recorded about a holy prayer, a sunny beam and an angel train bearing the fair maiden slowly to a fleecy cloud in whose bosom she became lost to earth Daunsey on the other hand awakened to consciousness by a touch from his sinister companion and felt himself gradually sinking in a direction exactly the opposite of that taken by his bride who in the short space of an hour was lost to him forever but one of the most curious cases of this kind was that recorded in an old tractate published in 1662 giving an account attested by six of the sufficientest men of the town of what happened to a certain John Leach a farmer living at Ravley with a desirous of visiting Whittlesey Fair he went beforehand with a neighbour to an inn for the purpose of drinking his morning's draught whilst the two were enjoying their morning's draught Mr. Leach began to be very merry and seeing his friend was desirous of going he exclaimed but in his merriment he forgot his rash observation and shortly afterwards calling for his horse set out for the fair he rolled far on the road when he remembered what he had said his conscious being sure troubled at that damnable oath which he had took not knowing what to do he rode about, first one way and then another until darkness set in and at about two o'clock in the night he aspired two grim creatures before him in the likeness of griffons these were the devil's messengers who had been sent to take him at his word and take him they did according to the testimony of the six they roughly handled him took him up in the air, stripped him and then dropped him a sad spectacle all bloody and gored in a farmyard just outside the town of Doddington here he was discovered lying upon some harrows in the condition described he was picked up and carried to a gentleman's house where being well cared for he narrated the remarkable adventure which had befallen him before long however he grew into a frenzy so desperate they were afraid to stay in his chamber and the gentleman of the house not knowing what to do sent for the parson of the town prompted it is supposed by the satanic influence which still held him Mr. Leach rushed at the minister and attacked him with so much fury that it was like to have cost him his life but the noise being heard below the servants rushed up rescued the parson and tied Mr. Leach down in his bed and left him the next morning hearing nothing but on entering his room he was discovered with his neck broke his tongue out of his mouth and his body as black as a shoe all swelled and every bone in his body out of joint we may conclude these extraordinary cases of devil bonds with two further strange incidents one an apparent record of a case of a similar kind which was practised amidst the frivolities and plotting of the French court by no less celebrated a lady Catherine de Medici in the secret history of France for the last century this incredible story is given in the first civil war when the Prince of Cond was in all appearance likely to prevail and Catherine was thought to be very near the end of her much desired regency during the young king's minority she was known to have been for two days together, retired to her closet without admitting her menial servants to her presence some few days after having called for Mem, one of the long robe and always firm to her interest she delivered him a steel box fast locked to whom she said giving him the key that in respect she knew not what might come to her by fortune amidst those intesting broils that then shook France she had thought fit to enclose a thing of great value within that box which she consigned to his care not to open it upon oath but by an express order under her own hand the queen dying without ever calling for the box it continued many years unopened in the family of de Mem after both their deaths till at last curiosity or the suspicion of some treasure from the heaviness of it tempted Monsieur de Mem's success to break it open which he did instead of any rich present from so great a queen what horror must the lookers on have when they found a copper plate of the form and bigness of one of the ancient Roman votive shields on which was engraved Queen Catherine de Medici on her knees in a praying posture offering up to the devil sitting upon a throne in one of the ugliest shapes they used to paint him Charles the ninth then reigning the Duke of Anjou afterwards Henry the third and the Duke of Alençon her three sons with this motto in French so be it eye but rain and in the court rolls of the manor of Hatfield near the isle of Axholme Yorkshire the following ridiculous story is given Robert Roderham appeared against John de Ithon for that he had not kept the agreement made between them and therefore complains that on a certain day and year at Thorn there was an agreement between the aforesaid Robert and John whereby the said John sold to the said Robert the devil bound in a certain bond for three pence farthing and thereupon the said Robert delivered to the said John one farthing as earnest money by which the property of the said devil was vested in the person of the said Robert to have livery of the said devil on the fourth day next following at which day the said Robert came to the forenamed John and asked delivery of the said devil according to the agreement between the made but the said John refused to deliver the said devil not has he yet done it etc to the great damage of the said Robert to the amount of 60 guineas and he has therefore brought his suit the said John came and did not deny the said agreement and because it appeared to the court that such a suit or not a subsist among Christians the aforesaid parties are therefore adjourned to the infernal regions there to hear their judgment and both parties were immersed by William de Skargel Senechal End of Chapter 9 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Strange Pages from Family Papers by T. F. Thysselton-Dyer Chapter 10 Family Death Omens Say not to his vein I tell thee some are warned by a meteor's light or a pale bird flitting calls them home or a voice on the winds by night and they must go and he too, he woe for the fall of the glorious tree Mrs. Hemons A curious chapter in the history of many of our old county families is that relating to certain forewarnings which from time immemorial have been supposed to indicate the approach of death However incredible the existence of these may seem their appearance is still intimately initiated with certain houses instances of which have been recorded from time to time Thus Cuckfield Place Sussex is not only interesting as a fine Elizabethan mansion but as having suggested to Ainsworth the Rookwood Hall of his striking romance The supernatural occurrence he says forming the groundwork of one of the ballads which I have made the harbinger of doom to the house the Rookwood is ascribed by popular superstition to a family resident in Sussex upon whose estate the fatal tree a gigantic lime with mighty arms and huge girth of trunk is still carefully preserved in the avenue that winds towards the house the doom tree still stands and whether gale or calm prevail or threatening cloud hath fled predestinate a limb that tree will shed a verdant bow untouched I trail by axe or tempest's breath to Rookwood's head an omen dread of fast approaching death Cuckfield Place adds Ainsworth to which this singular piece of timber is attached is the real Rookwood Hall for I have not drawn upon imagination but upon memory in describing the seat and domains of that fated family a similar tradition is associated with the Edgewell Oak which is said to indicate the coming death of an inmate of Castle Dalhousie by the fall of one of its branches and Camden in his Magna Britannia alluding to the antiquity of the Breton family relates this peculiar fact which is reported to have been repeated many times this wonderful thing respecting them is commonly believed and I have heard it myself affirmed by many that for some days before the death of the heir of the family the trunk of a tree has always been seen floating in the lake adjoining their mansion a popular superstition to which Mrs. Hemons refers in the lines which head the present chapter a further instance of a similar kind is given by Sir Bernard Burke who informs us that opposite the dining room at Gordon Castle is a large and massive willow tree the history of which is somewhat singular Duke Alexander when four years old planted this willow in a tub filled with earth the tub floated about in a marshy piece of land till the shrub expanding burst its seriments and struck root in the earth below here it grew and prospered till it attained its present goodly size it is said the Duke regarded the tree with a sort of fatherly and even superstitious regard half believing there was some mysterious affinity between its fortune and his own if an accident happened to the one by storm or lightning some misfortune was not long in befalling the other it has been noted also that the same thing is related of the brave but unfortunate admiral Kempenfelt who went down in the royal George during his proprietary of Lady Place he and his brother planted two thorn trees but one day on coming home the brother noted that the tree planted by the admiral had completely withered away astonished at this unexpected sight he felt some apprehensions as to admiral Kempenfelt's safety and exclaimed with some emotion I feel sure that this is an omen that my brother is dead by a striking coincidence that the two were realised for on that evening came the terrible news of the loss of the royal George whenever any member of the family of Kirkpatrick of Closeburn in the county of Dumfries was about to die either by accident or disease a swan that was never seen but on such occasions was sure to make its appearance upon the lake which surrounded Closeburn castle coming no one knew whence and passing away as mysteriously when the predicted death had taken place in connection with which the following singular legend has been handed down in days gone by the lake of Closeburn castle was the favourite resort during the summer season of a pair of swans their arrival always being welcomed to the family at the castle from a long established belief that they were ominous of good fortune to the Kirkpatrick no matter what mischance might have before impended it was sure to cease at their coming and so suddenly as well as constantly that it required no very ardent superstition to connect the two events into cause and effect but a century and a half had passed away when it happened that the young heir of Closeburn castle a lad of not quite 13 years of age in one of his visits to Edinburgh attended at the theatre a performance of the merchant of Venice in the cause of which he was surprised to hear Portia say of Bassanio that he should make a swan like end fading in music often wondering whether swans really sang before dying he determined at the first opportunity to test the truth of these words for himself on his return home he was one day walking by the lake when the swans came sailing majestically towards him and at once reminded of Portia's remark without a moment's thought he lodged in the breast of the foremost one a bolt from his crossbow killing it instantly frightened at what he had done he made up his mind it should not be known and as the water drifted the dead body of the bird towards the shore he buried it deep in the ground no small surprise however was occasioned in the neighbourhood when, for several years no swans made their annual appearance the idea at last being that they must have died in their native home wherever that might chance to be the yearly visit of the swans of Closeburn had become a thing of the past when one day much excitement was caused by the return of a single swan and much more so the pain was observed upon its breast as might be expected this unlooked for occurrence occasioned grave suspicions even amongst those who had no great faith in omens and that such fears were not groundless was soon abundantly clear for in less than a week the lord of Closeburn castle died suddenly there upon the swan vanished and was seen no more for some years when it again appeared to announce the loss of one of the house by shipwreck the last recorded appearance of the bird was at the third nuptials of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick the first baronet of that name on the wedding day his son Roger was walking by the lake when, on a sudden as if it had emerged from the waters the swan appeared with the bleeding breast Roger had heard of this mysterious swan and although his father's wedding bells were ringing merrily he himself returned to the castle a sorrowful man for he felt convinced that some evil was hanging over him despite his father's jest and what he considered groundless superstition on his part the young man could not shake off his fears replying to his father perhaps before long you also may be sorrowful on the night of that very day the son died and here ends the strange story of the swans of Closeburn similarly whenever two owls are seen perched on the family mansion of the noble family of Arendl of Wardour it has long been regarded as a certain indication that one of its members before very long will be summoned out of the world and the appearance of a white-breasted bird was the death-warning of the Oxenham family particularly relating to the tragic origin of which are to be found in a local ballad which commences thus where lofty hills in grandeur meet and tore meandering flows there is a silvan calm retreat where the best a mansion rose there dwelt Sir James of Oxenham a brave and generous lord benighted travellers never came unwelcome to his board in early life his wife had died a son he near had known and Margaret his ages pride was heir to him alone in course of time Margaret became affianced to a young knight and their wedding day was fixed on the evening preceding it her father in accordance with custom gave a banquet to his friends in order that they might congratulate him on the approaching happy union he stood up to thank them for their kind wishes and in alluding to the young knight in a few hours time to be his daughter's husband he gestingly called him his son but while the dear unpracticed word still lingered on his tongue he saw a silvery-breasted bird before the festive throng swift as the lightning flashes fleets and lose their brilliant light Sir James sank back upon his seat pale and entranced with fright with some difficulty he managed to conceal the cause of his embarrassment but on the following day the priest had scarcely begun the marriage service when Margaret with terrific screams made all with horror start Good heavens! her blood in torrents a dagger in her heart the deed had been done by a discarded lover who by the aid of a clever disguise had managed to station himself just behind her now marry me, proud maid he cried thy blood with mine shall wed he dashed the dagger in his side and at her feet fell dead and this pathetic ballad concludes by telling us how poor Margaret too grows cold with death and round her hovering flies the phantom bird for her last breath to bear it to the skies Equally strange is the omen with which the ancient Baronet's family of Clifton of Clifton Hall in Nottinghamshire is forewarned when death is about to visit one of its members it appears that in this case the omen takes the shape of a sturgeon which is seen forcing itself up the river Trent on whose bank the mansion of the Clifton family is situated and it may be remembered how in the park of Chartley, near Litchfield there has long been preserved the breed of the indigenous Staffordshire cow of white sand colour with black ears, muzzle and tips at the hooves in the year of the battle of Burton Bridge a black calf was born and the downfall of the great house of ferrers happening at the same period gave rise to the tradition which to this day has been current in the neighbourhood that the birth of a party-coloured calf from the wild breed in Chartley Park is a sure omen of death within the same year to a member of the family by a noticeable coincidence a calf of this description has been born whenever a death has happened in the family of late years the deceased of the Earl and his Countess of his son Lord Tamworth of his daughter Mrs William Joliff as well as the deaths of the son and heir of the eighth Earl and his daughter Lady Frances Shirley were each preceded by the ominous birth of a calf in the spring of the year 1835 an animal perfectly black was carved by one of this mysterious tribe in the Park of Chartley and it was soon followed by the death of the Countess the Park of Chartley where this weird announcement of one of the family's death has often times caused so much alarm is a wild, romantic spot and was in days of old attached to the royal forest of Needwood and the honour of Tutbury of the whole of which the ancient family of ferrers were the puissant lords their immense possessions now forming part of the Duchy of Lancaster were forfeited by the attainder of Earl ferrers after his defeat at Burton Bridge where he led the rebellious barons against Henry III the Chartley estate, being settled in Dower was alone reserved and has been handed down to its present possessor of Chartley Castle itself which appears to have been in ruins for many years many interesting historical facts are recorded thus it is said Queen Elizabeth visited her favourite, the Earl of Essex here in August 1575 and was entertained by him in a half-timbered house which formally stood near the castle but was long since destroyed by fire it is questionable whether Mary Queen of Scots was imprisoned in this house or in a portion of the old castle certain however it is that the unfortunate queen was brought to Chartley from Tutbury on Christmas Day 1585 the exact date at which she left Chartley is uncertain because she was removed thence under a plea of taking the air without the bounds of the castle she was then conducted by daily stages from the house of one gentleman to another under pretense of doing her honour without her having the slightest idea of her destination until she found herself on the 20th of September within the fatal walls of Fothering Hay Castle Quotachi Castle the seat of the Earl of Ailey has for many years passed been famous for its mysterious drama for whenever the sound of his drum is heard it is regarded as the sure indication of the approaching death of a member of the Ogilvy family there is a tragic origin given to this curious phenomenon the story generally told being to the effect that either the drummer or some officer whose emissary he was had excited the jealousy of a former lord Ailey and that he was in consequence of this occurrence puts to death by being thrust into his own drum and flung from the window of the tower which is situated the chamber where his music is apparently chiefly heard it is also said that the drummer threatened to haunt the family if his life were taken a promise which he has not forgotten to fulfil then there is the well-known tradition that prior to the death of any of the Lords of Roslyn Roslyn Chapel appears to be on fire a weird occurrence which forms the subject of Harold Song in the lay of the last minstrel Roslyn all that dreary night a wondrous blaze was seen to gleam was broader than the watchfire light and redder than the bright moon beam it glared on Roslyn's castle rock it rudded all the cops would glen to a scene from Dryden's groves of oak and seen from Cavern Horthenden seemed all on fire that chapel proud where Roslyn's chief son Coffin lie each baron for a sable shroud sheathed in his iron panoply seemed all on fire within a round deep sacristy and altar's pale shone every pillar foliage bound and glimmered all the dead men's mail blazed battlement and pin it high blazed every rose carved buttress fair so still they blaze when fate is nigh the lordly time of Hugh Sinclair but although the last Roslyn, as he was called died in the year 1778 and the estate passed into the possession of the Urskins earls of Roslyn the old tradition has not been extinguished something of the same kind is described as having happened to the old Cornish family of the Vingos on their estate of Treville for through all time a peculiar token has marked the coming death of one of the family of the deep caverns in the Treville Cliff rises a carn on this chains of fire were seen ascending and descending and often times were accompanied by loud and frightful noises but it is reported that these tokens have not taken place since the last mail of the family came to a violent end according to Mr Hunt tradition tells us this estate was given to an old family who came with the conqueror to this country this ancestor is said to have been the Duke of Normandy's wine-taster and to have belonged to the ancient camps of Treville hence the name of the estate for many generations the family has been declining and the race is now nearly if not quite extinct in some cases families have been apprised of an approaching death by some strange spectre either male or female a remarkable instance of which occurs in the manuscript memoirs of Lady Fanshawe and is to this effect her husband Sir Richard and she chanced during their abode in Ireland to visit a friend who resided in his ancient baronial castle surrounded with a moat at midnight she was awakened by a ghastly and supernatural scream and looking out of bed beheld by the moonlight a female face and part of the form hovering at the window the face was that of a young and rather handsome woman but pale and the hair which was reddish was loose and dishevelled this apparition continued to exhibit itself for some time and then vanished with two shrieks similar to that which at first excited Lady Fanshawe's attention in the morning with infinite terror she communicated to her host what had happened and found him prepared not only to credit but to account for what had happened a near relation of mine said he expired last night in the castle and before such an event happens in this family and castle the female specter whom you have seen is always visible she is believed to be the spirit of a woman of inferior rank whom one of my ancestors degraded himself by marrying and whom afterwards to expiate the dishonour done his family he caused to be drowned in the castle moat this of course was none other than a banshee which in times has been the source of so much terror in Ireland amongst the innumerable stories told of its apparance may be mentioned one related by Mrs. Le Fanoux the niece of Sheridan in the memoirs of her grandmother Mrs. Francis Sheridan from this account we gather that Mrs. Elizabeth Sheridan was a firm believer in the banshee and firmly maintained that the one attached to the Sheridan family was distinctly heard lamenting beneath the windows of the family residence from France of Mrs. Francis Sheridan's death at Blois she adds that a niece of Mrs. Sheridan made her very angry by observing that as Mrs. Francis Sheridan was by Bertha Chamberlain a family of English extraction she had no right to the guardianship of an Irish fairy and that therefore the banshee must have made a mistake likewise many a Scotch family has its death warning a notable one being the Bottach Glass Waverly as the messenger of bad tidings to the Macavers the truth of which it is said has been traditionally proved by the experience of no less than 300 years it is thus described by Fergus to Waverly you must know that when my ancestor Ian and Heistel wanted Northumberland there was appointed with him in the expedition a sort of Southland chief or captain of a band of lowlanders called Halbert Hall in their return through the Cheviots they quarrelled about the division of the great booty they had acquired and came from words to blows the lowlanders were cut off to a man and their chief fell the last covered with wounds by the sword of my ancestor since that day his spirit has crossed the Vichy Anwar of the day when any great disaster was impending Fergus then gives to Waverly a graphic and detailed account of the bodach last night I felt so feverish that I left my quarters and walked out in hopes the keen frosty air would brace my nerves I crossed a small footbridge and kept walking backwards and forwards when I observed with surprise by the clear moonlight a tall figure in the grey plaid which move at what pace I would kept regularly about four yards before me you saw a cumbulent peasant in his ordinary dress probably no I thought so at first and was astonished at the man's audacity in daring to dog me I called to him but received no answer I felt an anxious troubling at my heart and to ascertain what I dreaded I stood still and turned myself on the same spot successively to the four points of the compass by heaven Edward turn where I would the figure was instantly for my eyes are precisely the same distance I was then convinced it was the bodach glass my hair bristled and my knees shook I manned myself however and determined to return to my quarters my ghastly visitor glided before me until he reached the footbridge there he stopped and turned full round I must either wade the river or pass him as close as I am to you a desperate courage founded on the belief that my death was near made me resolved to make my way in despite of him I made the sign of the cross drew my sword and uttered in the name of god evil spirit give place Vich yann vor it said in a voice that made my very blood curdle beware of tomorrow it seemed at that moment not half a yard from my sword's point but the words were no sooner spoken than it was gone and nothing appeared further to obstruct my passage an ancestor of the family of McClain of Lockborough was commonly reported before the death of any of his race to gallop along the sea beach announcing the event by dismal cries and lamentations and Sir Walter Scott in his peverell of the peak tells us that the Stanley family are forewarned of the approach of death by a female spirit weeping and bemoaning herself before the death of any person of distinction belonging to the family these family death omens are of a most varied description having assumed particular forms in different localities Corby Castle Cumberland was famed for its radiant boy a luminous apparition which occasionally made its appearance the tradition in the family being would rise to the summit of power and, after reaching that position would die a violent death as an instance of this strange belief it is related how Lord Castle Ray in early life saw this spectre as is well known he afterwards became head of the government but finally perished by his own hand then there was the dreaded spectre of the Goblin Friar associated with Newstead Abbey a monk arrayed in cowland beads a dusty garb appeared now in the moonlight and now lapsed in shade with steps that trod as heavy yet unheard this apparition was generally supposed to forebode evil to the member of the family to whom it appeared and its movements have thus been poetically described by Lord Byron who, it may be added, maintained that he beheld this uncanny spectre before his ill-starred union with Miss Milbank with their lords tis said he flits on the bridal eve and tis held as faith to their bed of death he comes but not to grieve when an air is born he is heard to mourn and when aught is to befall that ancient line in the pale moonshine he walks from hall to hall his form you may trace but not his face his cowl but his eyes may be seen from the folds between and they seem of a parted soul an ancient Roman Catholic family in Yorkshire of the name of Middleton is said to be apprised of the death of any one of its members by the appearance of a Benedictine nun and Berry Pomeroy Castle Devonshire was supposed to be haunted by the daughter of a former Baron who bore a child to her own father and afterwards strangled the fruit of their incestuous intercourse but after death it seems this wretched woman could not rest and whenever death was about to visit to the castle she was generally seen sadly wending her way to the scene of her earthly crimes according to another tradition there is a circular tower called Margaret's Tower rising above some broken steps that lead into a dismal vault and the tale still runs in the year the spirit of the Lady Margaret a young daughter of the House of Pomeroy appears clad in white on these steps and beckoning to the passersby lures them to destruction into the dungeon ruin beneath them and indeed it would seem to have been a not infrequent occurrence for family ghosts to warn the living when death was at hand a piece of superstition which has always held a prominent place in our household traditions reminding us of kindred stories on the continent where the so-called white lady has long been an object of dread there has too long been a strange notion that when storms, heavy rains or other elemental strife take place at the death of a great man the spirit of the storm will not be appeased till the moment of burial this belief seems to have gained great strength on the occasion of the Duke of Wellington's funeral when after some weeks of heavy rain and some of the highest floods ever known the skies began to clear and both rain and flood abated it was a common observation in the week before the Duke's interment oh the rain won't give oar till the Duke is buried the end of chapter 10 strange pages from family papers by T. F. Thistleton Dyer this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to find out how to volunteer please contact LibriVox please contact LibriVox.org strange pages from family papers by T. F. Thistleton Dyer chapter 11 weird possessions but not a wordite it is fairies treasure which, but revealed brings on the blabber's ruin from Massengers Fatal Dury from the earliest days a strange fatality has been supposed to cling to certain things a phase of superstition which probably finds as many believers nowadays as when Homer wrote of the fatal necklace of Eryphaly that wrought mischief to all who'd been in possession of it in numerous cases it is difficult to account for the prejudice thus displayed although occasionally it is based on some traditionary story but whatever the origin of the luck or ill luck attaching to sundry family possessions the heirlooms have been preserved with a kind of superstitious care handed down from generation to generation one of the most remarkable curiosities connected with family superstitions is what is commonly known as the coalstone pair the strange antecedent history of which is thus given in a work entitled The Picture of Scotland within sight of the house of Levington in Haddingtonshire stands the mansions of coalstone of the late of the ancient family of coalstone whose estate passed by a series of heirs of line into the possession of the Countess of Dalhousie this place is chiefly worthy of attention here on account of a strange heirloom of which the welfare of the family was formally supposed to be connected one of the barons of coalstone about three hundred years ago married Jean Hay, daughter of John third Lord Yester with whom he obtained a dowry consisting of such base materials as houses or land but neither more nor less than a pair sure such a pair was never seen however as this of coalstone which a remote ancestor of the young lady famed for his necromantic power was supposed to have invested with some enchantment that rendered it perfectly invaluable Lord Yester in giving away his daughter informed his son-in-law that good as the lass might be her dowry was much better because while she could only have value in her own generation the pair so long as it continued in his family would be attended with unfailing prosperity and thus might cause the family to flourish to the end of time accordingly the pair was preserved as a sacred palladium both by the lad who first obtained it and by all his descendants till one of their ladies taking a longing for the forbidden fruit while pregnant inflicted upon it a deadly bite in consequence of which it is said several of the best farms on the estate very speedily came to the market the pair tradition goes on to tell us became stone hard immediately after the lady had bit it and in this condition it remains till this day with the marks of Lady Brune's teeth indelibly imprinted on it whether it be really thus fortified against all further attacks of the kind or not it is certain that it is now disposed in some secure part of the house or as we have been informed in a chest the key of which is kept secure by the Earl of Dalhousie so as to be out of all danger what so ever the coalstone pair it is added without regard to the superstition attached to it must be considered a very great curiosity in its way having in all probability existed five hundred years a greater age than perhaps has ever been reached by any other such production of nature another strange heirloom an antique crystal goblet is said to have been for a long time in the possession of Colonel Wilkes the proprietor of the estate of Balafletcher four or five miles from Douglas Isle of Man it is described as larger than a common bell-shaped tumbler set and chased in appearance and ornamented with floral scrolls having between the designs on two sides upright columnelli of five pillars and according to an old tradition it is reported to have been taken by Magnus the Norwegian king of man from St. Olaf's shrine although it is by no means clear on what ground this statement rests there can be no doubt but that the goblet is very old after belonging for at least a hundred years to the Fletcher family the owners of Balafletcher it was sold with the effects of the last of the family in 1778 and was brought by Robert Caesar Esquire who gave it to his niece for safekeeping the tradition goes that it had been given to the first of the Fletcher family more than two centuries ago with this special injunction that as long as he preserved it peace and plenty would follow but woe to him who broke it as he would surely be haunted by the peaceful spirit of Balafletcher it was kept in a recess once it was never removed except at Christmas and Eastertide when it was filled with wine and quaffed off at a breath by the head of the house only as a libation to the spirit for her protection then there is the well-known English tradition relating to Eden Hall where an old painted drinking-glass is preserved the property of Sir George Musgrave of Eden Hall in Cumberland in the possession of whose family it has been for many generations the tradition is that a butler going to draw water from a well in the garden called St Cuthbert's Well came upon a company of fairies at their revels and snatched it from them they did all they could to recover their ravished property but failing disappeared after pronouncing the following prophecy if this glass do break or fall farewell the luck of Eden Hall so long therefore runs the legendary tale as this drinking-glass is preserved the luck of Eden Hall will continue to exist but should ever the day occur when any mishap falls it this heirloom will instantly become an unlucky possession in the family the most recent account of this cup appeared in the Scarborough Gazette in the year 1880 in which it was described as a glass stoop a drinking vessel about six inches in height having a circular base perfectly flat two inches in diameter expanding upwards until it ends in a mouth four inches across the general hue is a warm green resembling the tone known by artists as brown pink upon the transparent glass is traced to geometric pattern in white and blue enamel somewhat raised aided by gold and a little crimson the earliest mention of this curious relic seems to have been made by Francis Deuce who was at Eden Hall in the year 1785 and wrote some verses upon it but there does not seem to be any authentic family history attaching to it there is a rumoured Moncastre castle which has long gone by the name of Henry VI's room from the circumstance of his having been concealed in it at the time he was flying from his enemies in the year 1461 when Sir John Pennington the then possessor of Moncastre gave him a secret reception when the time for the King's departure arrived before he proceeded on his journey he addressed Sir John Pennington with many kind and courteous acknowledgments for his loyal reception regretting at the same time that he had nothing of more value to present him with as a testimony of his goodwill than the cup out of which he crossed himself he then gave it into the hands of Sir John accompanying the present with these words the family shall prosper so long as they preserve it unbroken hence it is called the luck of Moncastre the benediction attached to its security says Roby in his traditions of Lancashire being then uppermost in the recollection of the family it was considered essential to the prosperity of the house at the time of the usurpation that the luck of Moncastre should be deposited in a safe place it was consequently buried till the cessation of hostilities had rendered all further care and concealment unnecessary but unfortunately the person commissioned the precious relic let the box fall in which it was locked up which so alarmed the then existing members of the family that they could not muster courage enough to satisfy their apprehensions the box therefore according to the traditionary story preserved in the family remained unopened for more than 40 years at the expiration of which period a Pennington more courageous than his predecessors unlocked the casket in the light of all proclaimed the luck of Moncastre to be uninjured it was an auspicious moment for the doubts as to the cup's safety were now dispelled and the promise held good it shall bless thy bed it shall bless thy board they shall prosper by this token in Moncastre castle good luck shall be till the charmed cup is broken some things again have gained a strange notoriety through the force of circumstances a curious story as told, for instance of a certain iron chest in Ireland the facts relating to which are these in the year 1654 Mr. John Bourne chief trustee of the estate of John Mallet of Enmore fell sick at his house in Durley when his life was pronounced by a physician to be in imminent danger within 24 hours while the doctor and Mrs. Carlisle a relative of Mr. Bourne was sitting by his bedside to change the curtains at the bedfoot to give him air when suddenly a great iron chest by the window with three locks in which chest were all the writings and title deeds of Mr. Mallet's estate began to open lock by lock the lid of the iron chest then lifted itself up and stood wide open it is added that Mr Bourne who had not spoken for 24 hours raised himself up in the bed and looking at the chest cried out you say true, you say true I will be with you by and by he then laid down apparently in an exhausted condition and spoke no more the chest lid fell again and locked itself lock by lock and within an hour afterwards Mr Bourne expired there is a story current of Lord Lovett that when he was born a number of swords that hung up in the hall of the house leaped of themselves out of the scabbard this circumstance often formed the topic of conversation and among his clan was looked upon as an unfortunate omen by a curious coincident Lord Lovett was not only the last person beheaded on Tower Hill but was the last person beheaded in this country April 9th 1747 an event which Walpole has thus described in one of his letters telling us that he died extremely well without passion affectation buffoonery or timidity he professed himself a jansenist he meant no speech but sat down a little while in a chair on the scaffold and talked to the people about him and Aubrey relating a similar anecdote of a picture tells us how Sir Walter Long's widow did make a solemn promise to him on his deathbed that she would not marry after his decease but this she did not keep for not long after one Sir Fox a very beautiful young gentleman did win her love so that notwithstanding her promise aforesaid she married him they were at South Raffle where the picture of Sir Walter hung over the parlour door and on entering this room on their return from church the string of the picture broke and the picture which was painted on wood fell on the lady's shoulder and cracked in the fall this made a ladieship reflect on her promise and drew some tears from her eyes End of Chapter 11