 Chapter 1 of Strange Pages from Family Papers. 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. Recorded by David Barnes, Lizzie Driver, Corrie Samuel and Peter Yearsley. Chapter 1. Fatal Curses. May the grass wither from thy feet, the woods deny thee shelter, earth a home, the dust a grave, the sun is light, and heaven her God, Byron Cain. Many a strange and curious romance has been handed down in the history of our great families, relative to the terrible curses uttered in cases of dire extremity, against persons considered guilty of injustice and wrongdoing. It is to such fearful implications that the misfortune and downfall of certain houses have been attributed, although it may be centuries have elapsed before their final fulfilment. Such curses too, unlike the fatal curse of Kehama, have rarely turned into blessings, nor have they been thought to be as harmless as the curse of the cardinal archbishop of Reims, who bans the thief, both body and soul, his life and forever, who stole his ring. It was an awful curse, but none of the guests seemed the worst for it, except the poor Jackdor, who had hidden the ring in some sly corner as a practical joke. But if we are to believe traditionary and historical law, only too many of the curses recorded in the chronicles of family history have been productive of the most disastrous results, reminding us of that dreadful malediction given by Byron in his curse of Minerva. So let him stand through ages yet unborn, fixed statue on the pedestal of scorn. A popular form of curse seems to have been the gradual collapse of the family name from failure of male issue, and although there is perhaps no more romantic chapter in the vicissitudes of many a great house than its final extinction from lack of an heir, such a disaster is all the more to be lamented when resulting from a curse. A catastrophe of this kind was that connected with the McAllister family of Scotch notoriety. The story goes that many generations back, one of their chiefs, McAllister Injury, an intrepid warrior who feared neither God nor man, in a skirmish with a neighbouring clan captured a widow's two sons, and in a most heartless manner caused them to be hanged on a gibbet erected almost before her very door. It was in vain that, with well-nigh heartbroken tears, she denounced his iniquitous act, for his comrades and himself only laughed and scoffed, and even threatened to burn her cottage to the ground. But as the crimson and setting rays of her summer son fell on the lifeless bodies of her two sons, her eyes met those of him who had so basely and cruelly wronged her, and after once more stigmatising his barbarity, with deep measured voice, she pronounced these ominous words, embodying a curse which McAllister Injury little anticipated would so surely come to pass. I suffer now, said the grief-stricken woman, but you shall suffer always. You have made me childless, but you and you shall be airless forever. Never shall there be a son to the house of McAllister. These words were treated with contempt by McAllister Injury, who mocked and laughed at the malicious prattle of a woman's tongue. But time proved only to truly how persistently the curse of the bereaved woman clung to the race of her oppressors. And as Sir Bernard Burke remarks, it was in the reign of Queen Anne that the hopes of the house of McAllister flourished for the last time. They were blighted forever. The closing scene of this prophetic curse was equally tragic and romantic. For whilst espousing the cause of the pretender, the young and promising heir of the McAllisters was taken prisoner, and with many others put to death, incensed at the wrongs of his exiled monarch and full of fiery impulse, he had secretly left his youthful wife and joined the army at Perth that was to restore the pretender to his throne. For several months the deserted wife fretted under the terrible suspense, often silently wondering if, after all, her husband, the last hope of the house of McAllister, was to fall under the ban of the widow's curse. She could not dispel from her mind the hitherto disastrous results of those ill-fated words and would only too willingly have done anything in her power to make atonement for the wrong that had been committed in the past. It was whilst almost frenzied with thoughts of this distracting kind that vague rumours reached her ears of a great battle which had been fought, and ere long this was followed by the news that the pretender's forces had been successful and that he was about to be crowned at Scone. The shades of evening were fast setting in as, overcome with the joyous prospect of seeing her husband home again, she withdrew to her chamber and, flinging herself on her bed in a state of hysteric delight, fell asleep. But her slumbers were broken, for at every sound she started, mentally exclaiming, Can that be my husband? At last the happy moment came when her poor, overraught brain made sure it heard his footsteps. She listened. Yes they were his. Full of feverish joy she was longing to see that long absent face when, as the door opened to her horror and dismay, there entered a figure in martial array without a head. It was enough. He was dead. And with an agonising scream she fell down in a swoon, and on becoming conscious only lived to hear the true narrative of the battle of Sheriff Muir which had brought to pass the widow's curse that there should be no heir to the house of Macallister. This story reminds us of one told of Sir Richard Herbert, who, with his brother, the Earl of Pembroke, pursuing a robber band in Anglesey, had captured seven brothers, the ringleaders of many mischiefs and murders. The Earl of Pembroke determined to make an example of these marauders and, to root out so wretched a progeny, ordered them all to be hanged. Upon this the mother of the felons came to the Earl of Pembroke and upon her knees besought him to pardon two, or at least one of her sons, a request which was seconded by the Earl's brother, Sir Richard. But the Earl, finding the condemned men all equally guilty, declared he could make no distinction and ordered them to be hanged together. Upon this the mother, falling upon her knees, cursed the Earl and prayed that God's mischief might fall upon him in the first battle in which he was engaged. Very late, on the eve of the battle of Edgecutfield, having marshaled his men in order to fight, the Earl of Pembroke was surprised to find his brother, Sir Richard Herbert, standing in the front of his company and leaning upon his pollacks in a most objective and pensive mood. What! cried the Earl, dath thy great body, for Sir Richard was taller than anyone in the army, apprehend anything that thou art so melancholy, or art thou weary with marching that thou dost lean thus upon thy pollacks? I am not weary with marching, replied Sir Richard, nor do I apprehend anything for myself, but I cannot but apprehend on your part lest the curse of the woman fall upon you. And the curse of the frantic mother of seven convicts seemed, we are told, to have gained the authority of heaven, for both the Earl and his brother Sir Richard were defeated at the battle of Edgecut, were both taken prisoners and put to death. Sir Walter Scott has made a similar legend, the subject of one of his ballads, in the Minstrel Sea of the Scottish Border, entitled The Curse of Moe, a tale founded on an ancient Highland tradition that originated in a feud between the clans of Chathane and Grant. The Castle of Moe, the early residence of Macintosh, the chief of the clan Chathane, is situated among the mountains of Invernescia, and stands on the edge of a small gloomy lake called Loch Moe, in which is still shown a rocky island as the spot where the dungeon stood, in which prisoners were confined by the former chiefs of Moe. On a certain evening in the annals of Moe, the scene is represented as having been one of extreme merriment, for in child bed lay the Lady Fair, but now is come the appointed hour, and vassals shout an air, an air. It is no ordinary occasion for a wretched curse as long hung over the castle of Moe, but at last the spell seems broken, and as the well-spiced bowl goes round, shout after shout echoes and re-echos through the castle, an air, an air. Many a year had passed without the prospect of such an event, and it had looked as if the illomend words uttered in the past were to be realised. It was no wonder then that, in the gloomy towers of Moe, there were feasting and revelry for a child is born who is to perpetuate the clan which hitherto had seemed threatened with extinction. But even on this festive night when every heart is tuned for song and mirth, there suddenly appears a mysterious figure, a pale and shivering form by age and frenzy haggard made. Who defiantly exclaims, Tis vain, tis vain. At once all eyes are turned on this strange form as she, in mocking gesture, casts a look of withering scorn on the scene around her, and startles the jovial vassals with the reproachful words, No air, no air. The laughter is hushed, the pipes no longer sound, for the witch with uplifted hand beckons that she had a message to tell, a message from death she might truly say, What means these bowls of wine, these festive songs? For the blast of death is on the heath, and the grave yawns wide for the child of Moe. She then recounts the tale of treachery and cruelty committed by a chief of the house of Moe in the days of old, for which His name shall perish forever off the earth, a son may be born, but that son shall verily die. The witch brings tears into many an eye as she tells how this curse was uttered by one Margaret, a prominent figure in this sad feud, for it was when deceived in the most base manner, and when betrayed by a man who had violated his promise he had solemnly pledged that she is moved to pronounce the fatal words of doom. She prayed that childless and forlorn the chief of Moe might pine away, that the sleepless night and the careful morn might wither his limbs in slow decay, but never the son of a chief of Moe might live to protect his father's age, or close in peace his dying eye, or gather his gloomy heritage. Such was the curse of Moe, uttered it must be remembered too by a fair young girl against the chief of Moe for a bloodthirsty crime, the act of a traitor, in that not content with slaying her father and murdering her lover, he satiates his brutal passion by letting her eyes rest on their corpses. And here, they said, is thy father dead, and thy lover's corpse is cold at his side. Her tale ended, the witch departs, but now ceased the revels of the shuddering clan, for despair had seized on every breast and in every vein chilled terror ran. On the morrow, all is changed, no joyous sounds are heard, but silence reigns supreme. The silence of death, the curse has triumphed, the last hope of the house of Moe is gone, and scarce shawnt the morn on the mountain's head when the lady wept o her dying boy. But tyranny or oppression has always been supposed to bring its own punishment, as in the case of Barcroft Hall, Lancashire, where the idiot's curse is commonly said to have caused the downfall of the family. The tradition current in the neighbourhood states that one of the heirs to Barcroft was of weak intellect, and that he was fastened by a younger brother with a chain in one of the cellars, and there, in a most cruel manner, gradually starved to death. It appears that this unnatural conduct on the part of the younger brother was prompted by a desire to get possession of the property, and it is added that, long before the heir to Barcroft was released from his sufferings, he caused a report to be circulated that he was dead, and by this piece of deception made himself master of the Barcroft estate. It was in one of his lucid intervals that the poor injured brother pronounced a curse upon the family of the Barcrofts to the effect that their name should perish for ever, and that the property should pass into other hands. But this malediction was only regarded as the ravings of an imbecile, unaccountable for his words, and little or no heed was paid to this death sentence on the Barcroft name. And yet, light as the family made of it, within a short time there were not wanting indications that their prosperity was on the wane, a fact which every year became more and more discernible until the curse was fulfilled in the person of Thomas Barcroft, who died in 1688 without male issue. After passing through the hands of the Bradshaws, the Pymlots and the Isherwoods, the property was finally sold to Charles Townley, the celebrated antiquarian, in the year 1795. Whatever the truth of this family tradition, Barcroft is still a good specimen of the later Tudor style, and its ample cellarage gives an idea of the profuse hospitality of its former owners, some rude scribblings on one of the walls of which are still pointed out as the work of the captive. In a still more striking way, this spirit of persecution incurred its own condemnation. In the 17th century, Francis Howgill, a noted quaker, travelled about the south of England preaching, which at Bristol was the cause of serious rioting. On returning to his own neighbourhood he was summoned to appear before the justices, who were holding a court in a tavern at Kendall, and, on his refusing to take the oath of allegiance, he was imprisoned in Appleby jail. In due time, the judges of the sizes tended the same oath, but with the like result, and evidently wishing to show him some consideration, offered to release him from custody if he would give a bond for his good behaviour in the interim, which, likewise declining to do, he was recommitted to prison. In the course of his imprisonment, however, a curious incident happened, which gave rise to the present narrative. Having been permitted by the magistrates to go home to Grayrig for a few days on private affairs, he took the opportunity of calling on a justice of the name of Duckett, residing at Grayrig Hall, who was not only a great persecutor of the Quakers, but was one of the magistrates who had committed him to prison. As might be imagined, Justice Duckett was not a little surprised at seeing Howgill, and said to him, What is your wish now, Francis? I thought you had been in Appleby jail. Howgill keenly resented the magistrate's behaviour. Promptly replied, No, I'm not. But I'm come with a message from the Lord. Thou hast persecuted the Lord's people, but his hand is now against thee, and he will send a blast upon all that thou hast, and thy name shall rot out of the earth, and this thy dwelling shall become desolate, and a habitation for owls and jackdaws. When Howgill had delivered his message, the magistrate seems to have been somewhat disconcerted, and said, Francis, are you in earnest? But Howgill only added, Yes, I am in earnest. It is the word of the Lord to thee, and there are many living now who will see it. But the most remarkable part of the story remains to be told. By a strange coincidence, the prophetic utterance of Howgill was fulfilled in a striking manner, for all the children of Justice Duckett died without leaving any issue. Whilst some of them came to actual poverty, one begged in her bread from door to door. Greirig Hall passed into the possession of the Lowther family, was dismantled, and fell into ruins, little more than its extensive foundations being visible in 1777. And after having long been the habitation of owls and jackdaws, the ruins were entirely removed, and a farmhouse erected upon the site of the old hall, in accordance with what was properly known, as the Quakers curse and its fulfilment. Cornish biography, however, tells how a magistrate of that county, Sir John Arendall, a man greatly esteemed amongst his neighbours for his honourable conduct, fell under an implication which he in no way deserved. In his official capacity it seems he had given offence to a shepherd who had by some means acquired considerable influence over the peasantry, under the impression that he possessed some supernatural powers. This man, for some offence, had been imprisoned by Sir John Arendall, and on his release would constantly waylay the magistrate, always looking at him with the same menacing eye, at the same time slowly muttering these words, When upon the yellow sand thou shalt die by human hand. Notwithstanding Sir John Arendall's education and position, he was not wholly free from the superstition of the period, and might have thought too that this man intended to murder him. Hence he left his home at Efford, and retired to the woodclad hills of Trevis, where he lived for some years without the annoyance of meeting his old enemy. But in the tenth year of Edward IV, Richard Devere, Earl of Oxford, seized St Michael's Mount. On hearing of which news, Sir John Arendall, then sheriff of Cornwall, led an attack on St Michael's Mount, in the course of which he received his death wound in a skirmish on the sands near Marision. Although he had broken up his home at Efford, to counteract the will of fate, the shepherd's prophecy was accomplished, and tradition even says that in his dying moments his old enemy appeared, singing in joyous tones, When upon the yellow sand thou shalt die by human hand. The misappropriation of property, in addition to causing many a family complication, has occasionally been attended with a far more serious result. There is a strange curse, for instance, in the family of Mar, which can boast of great antiquity, there being perhaps no title in Europe as ancient as that of the Earl of Mar. This curse has been attributed by some to Thomas the Rhymer, by others to the abbot of Cambus Kenneth, and by others to the bard of the house at that epoch. But whoever its author, the curse was delivered to the elevation of the Earl in the year 1571 to be the regent of Scotland, and runs thus. Proud chief of Mar, thou shalt be raised still higher until thou sittest in the place of the king. Thou shalt rule and destroy, and thy work shall be after thy name, but thy work shall be the emblem of thy house and shall teach mankind that he who cruelly and haughtily raises himself upon the ruins of the holy house cannot prosper. Thy work shall be cursed and shall never be finished, but thou shalt have riches and greatness, and shall be true to thy sovereign, and shalt raise his banner in the field of blood. Then, when thou seemest to be highest, when thy power is mightiest, then shall come thy fall, lo shall be thy head amongst the nobles of the people, deep shall be thy moan among the children of duel. Thy lands shall be given to the stranger, and thy titles shall lie among the dead. The branch that springs from thee shall see his dwelling burnt, in which a king is nursed, his wife a sacrifice in that same flame, his children numerous but of little honour, and three born and grown who shall never see the light. Yet shall thine ancient tower stand, for the brave and the true cannot be wholly forsaken. Thou, proud head and daggared hand, must tree thy weird, until horses shall be stabled in thy hall, and a weaver shall throw his shuttle in thy chamber of state. Thine ancient tower, a woman's tower, shall be a ruin and a beacon, until an ash sapling shall spring from its topmost stone. Then shall thy sorrows be ended, and the sunshine of royalty shall beam on thee once more. Thine honours shall be restored. The kiss of peace shall be given to thy countess, though she seek it not, and the days of peace shall return to thee and thine. The line of Mars shall be broken, but not until its honours are doubled and its doom is ended. In support of this strange curse it may be noted that the Earl of 1571 was raised to be Regent of Scotland and Guardian of James VI as regent he commanded the destruction of Canbus Kenneth Abbey and took its stones to build himself a palace at Stirling, which never advanced further than the façade, which has been popularly designated Mars' work. In the year 1715 the Earl of Mars raised the banner of his sovereign, the Chevalier James Stewart, son of James II or VII. He was defeated at the battle of Sheriff Muir, his title being forfeited, and his lands of Mars confiscated and sold by the government to the Earl of Fife. His grandson and representative, John Francis, lived at a lower tower, which had been for some time the abode of James VI as an infant. Where, a fire breaking out in one of the rooms, Mrs Erskine was burnt and died, leaving, besides others, three children who were born blind and who all lived to old age. But this remarkable curse was to be further fulfilled for at the commencement of the present century, upon the alarm of the French invasion, a troop of the cavalry and yeoman of the district took possession of the tower, and for a week fifty horses were stabled in its lordly hall. And in the year 1810 a party of visitors were surprised to see a weaver plying his loom in the grand old chamber of state. Between the years 1815 and 1820 an ash sapling might be seen in a topmost stone. And many of those who clasped it in their hands wondered if it really were the twig of destiny and if they should ever live to see the prophecy fulfilled. In the year 1822 George IV visited Scotland and searched out the families who had suffered by supporting the princes of the Stuart line. Foremost of them all was the Erskine of Maher, grandson of Maher who had raised the Chevaliers standard and to him the king restored his elder. John Francis, the grandson of the restored Earl, likewise came into favour for when Queen Victoria accidentally met his Countess in a small room in Stirling Castle and ascertained who she was she detained her and after conversing with her kissed her. Although the Countess had never been presented at St James's yet in a marvellous way the kiss of peace was given to her though she sought it not. And then after the curse had worked through 300 years the weards dreared out and the doom of Maher was ended. Another instance which may be quoted relates to Sherbourne Castle. According to the traditionary accounts handed down it appears that Osmond, one of William the Conqueror's knights who had been rewarded, among other possessions with the castle and barony of Sherbourne in the decline of life determined to resign his temporal honours and to devote himself exclusively to religion. In pursuance of this object he obtained the bishopric of Salisbury to which he gave certain lands but annexed to the gift the following conditional curse that whosoever shall take those lands from the bishopric or diminish them in great or small should be accursed not only in this world but in the world to come unless in his lifetime he made restitution thereof. In a strange and wonderful manner this curse is said to have been more than once fulfilled. Upon Osmond's death the castle and lands fell into the hands of the next bishop Roger Niger, who was dispossessed to them by King Stephen and whose death they were held by the Montagues all of whom it is affirmed so long as they kept these lands was subject to grievous disasters in so much that the male line became altogether extinct. About 200 years from this time the lands again reverted to the church but in the reign of Edward VI the castle of Sherbourne was conveyed by the then bishop of Sarum to the Duke of Somerset who lost his head on Tower Hill Sir Walter Raleigh again obtained the property from the crown and it was to expiate this offence it has been suggested he ultimately lost his head but in allusion to this reputed curse Sir John Harrington gravely tells how it happened one day that Sir Walter riding post between Plymouth and the court The castle being right in the way he cast such an eye upon it as Ahab did upon Nebos vineyard and whilst talking of the commodiousness of the place and of the great strength of the seat and how easily it might be got from the bishopric suddenly over and over came his horse and his very face which was then thought a very good one plowed up the earth where he fell. Then again Prince Henry died shortly after he took possession and Carr, Earl of Somerset the next proprietor fell in disgrace but the way the latter obtained Sherbourne was far from creditable for having discovered a technical flaw in the deed in which Sir Walter Raleigh settled the estate on his son he solicited it of his royal master and obtained it it was in vain that Lady Raleigh on her knees appealed to James against this injustice for he only answered I man have the land, I man have it for Carr but Lady Raleigh was a woman of high spirit and there on her knees before King James she prayed to God that he would punish those who had thus wrongfully exposed her and her children to ruin in fact re-echoing the curse uttered centuries beforehand and that prayer was not long unanswered for Carr did not enjoy Sherbourne for any length of time committed to the tower for the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury he was at last released and restricted to his house in the country where in constant companionship with the wife for the guilty love of whom he had become the murderer of his friend he passed the remainder of his life loathing the partner of his crimes and by her as cordially detested Speilman goes so far as to say that all those families who took or had church property presented to them came either in their own persons or those of their descendants to sorrow and misfortune One of the many strange occurrences relating to Sir Anthony Brown standard bearer to King Henry VIII was communicated some years ago in connection with the famous Coundry Castle the principal seat of the Montague's it is said that at the great festival given in the magnificent hall of the monks at Battle Abbey on Sir Anthony Brown taking possession of his sovereign's gift of that estate a venerable monk stalked up the hall to the dais where Sir Anthony Brown sat and in prophetic language denounced him and his posterity for usurping the possessions of the church predicting their destruction by fire and water a fate which was eventually fulfilled One of the last Viscounts was in 1793 drowned when trying to pass the falls of Schaffhausen on the Rhine accompanied by Mr Sedley Burdett the elder brother of the distinguished Sir Francis they had engaged an open boat to take them through the rapids but it seems the authorities tried to prevent so dangerous an enterprise in order however to carry out their project they started two hours earlier than the time previously fixed four o'clock in the morning and successfully passed the first or upper fall but unhappily the same good fortune failed them in their next descent for the boat was swamped and sunk in passing the lower fall and was supposed to have been jammed in a cleft of the submerged rock as neither boat nor adventurers ever appeared again in the same week the ancient seat of the family Coundry Castle was destroyed by fire and its venerable ruins are the significant monument at once of the fulfilment of the old monk's prophecy and of the extinction of the race of the great and powerful noble it is further added that the last inheritor of the title the immediate successor and cousin of the ill-fated young nobleman of Schaffhausen Anthony Brown, the last Montague who died at the opening of this century left no male issue and his estates devolved on his only daughter who married Mr Stephen Poynts, a great Buckinghamshire landlord some years after their marriage Mr Poynts was desirous of obtaining a grant of the dormant title Viscount Montague in favour of the elder of his two sons issue of this marriage but his hopes were suddenly destroyed by the death of the two boys who were drowned while bathing at Bogner the fatal water thus becoming the means in fulfilment of the monk's terrible denunciation on the family in this fearful curse In a similar manner the great Titchbourne trial followed it is said upon the fulfilment, in a manner of a prophecy respecting that ancient family made more than 700 years before when the lady Maybell Titchbourne wife of the Sir Roger who flourished in the reign of Henry II was lying on her deathbed she besought her husband to grant her the means of leaving behind her a charitable bequest in the form of an annual doll of bread to gratify her whim he accordingly promised her the produce of as much land in the vicinity of the park as she could walk over while a certain brand was burning for as she had been bedridden for many years he supposed that she would be able to go round only a small portion of the property but when the venerable dame was carried out upon the ground she seemed to regain her strength and greatly to the surprise of her husband crawled round several rich and goodly acres which to this day retained the name of the crawls odd being reconveyed to her chamber Lady Maybell summoned her family to her bedside and predicted its prosperity so long as the ancient doll was observed but she left her solemn curse on any of her descendants who should discontinue it prophesying that when such should happen the old house would fall and the family name become extinct from failure of male issue and she further added that this would be foretold by a generation of seven sons being followed immediately after by a generation of seven daughters and no son the custom of the annual dolls was observed for 600 years on every 25th of March until owing to the complaints of the magistrates under local gentry that vagabonds, gypsies and idlers of every description swarmed into the neighbourhood under the pretence of receiving the doll it was discontinued in the year 1796 strangely enough Sir Henry Titchbourne, the baronet of that day had issue seven sons and his eldest son who succeeded him had seven daughters and no son the prophecy was apparently completed by the change of name of the possessors of the estate to Doughty in the person of Sir Edward Doughty who had assumed the name under the will of a relative from whom he inherited certain property finally it may be added the claimant appeared and instituted one of the most costly lawsuits ever tried in which the Titchbourne estate was put to an expense of close upon 100,000 pounds but occasionally the effect of a family curse through the misappropriation of property has been more sweeping and speedy in its retribution as in the case of Furvey or Forvey which now forms part of the parish of Slanes, Scotland much if not most of it being covered with sand the popular account of the downfall of this parish tells how in times gone by the proprietor to whom it belonged left three daughters as heirs of his fair lands who were however most unjustly bereft of their property and thrown homeless on the world on quitting their home, their legal heritage they uttered a terrible curse which was quickly accomplished and was considered an unmistakable sign of divine displeasure at the wrong they had received before many days had elapsed a storm of almost unparalleled violence lasting nine days burst over the district and transformed the parish of Furvey into a desert of sand a community which is said to have befallen this district about the close of the 17th century in this way many local traditions account for the ruined and desolate condition of certain wild and uninhabited spots Ettrick Hall for instance near the head of Ettrick Water had such a history on and around its site in former days there was a considerable village and as late as the revolution it contained no fewer than 53 fine houses about the year 1700 when the numbers in this little village were still very considerable James Anderson, a member of the Tushallaw family pulled down a number of small cottages leaving many of the tenants some of whom were aged and infirm, homeless it was in vain that so these poor people appealed to him for a little merciful consideration for he refused to lend an ear to their complaints and in a short time a splendid house was built on the property known as Ettrick Hall what was considered by the inhabitants far and wide as an act of cruel injustice incurred its own punishment for a prophetic rhyme was about the same period made on it by whom nobody could tell and which, says James Hogg writing in the year 1826 has been most wonderfully verified Ettrick Hall stands on Yon Plain right sore exposed to wind and rain and on it the sun shines never at morn because it was built in the widow's corn and its foundations can never be sure because it was built on the ruin of the poor and all an age is common gain or the trees or the chimney taps grow green we can a when where the house has been the curse that elided on this fair mansion at length accomplished its destructive work because nowadays there is not a vestige of it remaining nor has there been for these many years indeed so complete was the collapse of this ill-fated house that its sight could only be identified by the avenue and lanes of trees while many clay cottages on the other hand which were built previously long remained intact equally fatal also was the curse uttered against the old persecuting family of home of Cowdennose a place in the immediate neighbourhood of St Thomas' castle vengeance vengeance when and where upon the house of Cowdennose now and evermore this anathema awful as the cry of blood is generally said to have been realised in the extinction of the family and the transference of their property to other hands but some doubt writes Mr Robert Chambers seems to hang on the matter as the Earl of Home a prosperous gentleman is a lineal descendant of the Cowdennose branch of the family which exceeded to the title in the reign of Charles I though it must be omitted the estate has long been alienated love and marriage again have been associated with many implications one of which dates as far back as the time of Edmund King of the East Angles in connection with his defeat and capture at Hoxney in Suffolk on the banks of the Waverney not far from I the story as told by Sir Francis Palgrave in his Anglo-Saxon history is this being hotly pursued by his foes the king fled to Hoxney and attempted to conceal himself by crouching beneath the bridge now called Gold Bridge the glittering of his golden spurs offered him to a newly married couple who were returning home by moonlight and they betrayed him to the Danes Edmund as he was dragged from his hiding place pronounced a malediction upon all who should afterwards pass this bridge on their way to be married so much regard was paid to this tradition by the good folks of Hoxney that no bride or bridegroom would venture along the forbidden path that inconstancy has not always escaped with impunity may be gathered from the following painful story one which, if it had not been fully attested would seem to belong to the domain of fiction rather than truth on April the 28th, 1795 a naval court marshal which had lasted for 16 days and created considerable excitement was terminated the officer tried was Captain Anthony James Pie Malloy of his majesty's ship Caesar and the charge brought against him was that in the memorable battle of June the 1st 1794 he did not bring his ship into action and exert himself to the utmost of his power the decision of the court was adverse to the captain but having found that on many previous occasions Captain Malloy's courage had been unimpeachable he was sentenced to be dismissed his ship instead of the penalty of death it is said that Captain Malloy had behaved dishonorably to a young lady to whom he was betrothed the friends of the lady wished to bring an action for breach of promise against the captain but the lady declined doing so only remarking that God would punish him sometime afterwards the two accidentally met at bath when the lady confronted her inconstant lover by saying her words were fully realised his subsequent conduct and irremediable disgrace forming the fulfilment of her wish another curse which may be said to have a historic interest has been popularly designated the midwife's curse it appears that Colonel Stephen Payne who took a foremost part in striving to uphold the tottering fortunes of the stewards had wooed and won a fair wife amid the battles of the rebellion the Duke of York promised to stand as godfather to the first child if it should prove a boy but when a daughter was born the Colonel in his mortification it is said formally devoted in succession his haplest wife his infant daughter himself and his belongings to the infernal deities but the story goes that the midwife Douce Fardon was commissioned by the shade of Normandy's first Duke to announce to her master that not only would his daughter die in infancy that neither he nor anyone descended from him would ever again be blessed with a daughter's love not many days afterwards the child died whose involuntary coming had been the cause of the pain curse time passed on and that heaven is merciful writes Sir Bernard Burke Stephen Payne experienced in his own person for his wife subsequently presented him with a son who was sponsored by the Duke of York by proxy but six generations of descendants of Colonel Stephen Payne it is added have come and gone since the utterance of the midwife's curse but they never yet have had a daughter born to them such is the immutability of the decrees of fate End of chapter one Chapter two of strange pages from family papers 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. Thyselton Dyer Chapter two The Screaming Skull Look on its broken arch, its ruined wall its chambers desolate, its portals foul Yes, this was once ambition's airy hall the dome of thought, the palace of the soul Byron There are told of certain houses in different parts of the country many weird skull stories The popular idea being that if any profane hand should be bold enough to remove or in any way tamper with such gruesome relics of the dead misfortune will inevitably overtake the family Hence, for years past there have been carefully preserved in some of our country homes numerous skulls, all kinds of romantic traditions accounting for their present isolated and unburied condition An old farmstead known as Betiscombe near Bridport Dorsetshire has long been famous for its so-called screaming skull generally supposed to be that of a negro servant who declared before his death that his spirit would not rest until his body was buried in his native land but, contrary to his dying wish he was interred in the churchyard of Betiscombe and hence the trouble which this skull has ever since occasioned In the August of 1883 Dr Richard Garnit, his daughter and a friend while staying in the neighbourhood determined to pay this eccentric skull a visit the result of which is thus amusingly told by Miss Garnit One fine afternoon a party of three adventurous spirits started off hoping to discover the skull and investigate its history This much we knew that the skull would only scream when it was buried and so we hoped to get leave to inter it in the churchyard The village of Betiscombe was at length reached and we found our way to the old farmhouse which stood at the end of the village by itself It had evidently been a manor house and a very handsome one too We were admitted into a fine paved hall and attempted to break the ice by asking for milk We then endeavoured to draw the good woman of the house into conversation by admiring the place and asking in a guarded manner respect in the famous skull On this subject she was most reserved She had only lately had the farmhouse and had been obliged to take possession of the skull also but she did not wish us to suppose that she knew much about it It was a veritable skeleton in the closet to her After exercising great diplomacy we persuaded her to allow us a sight of it We tramped up the fine old staircase till we reached the top of the house When opening a cupboard door she showed us a steep winding staircase leading to the roof and from one of the steps the skull sat grinning at us We took it in our hands and examined it carefully It was very old and weather beaten and certainly human The lower jaw was missing the forehead very low and badly proportioned One of our party who was a medical student examined it long and gravely and then after first telling the good woman that he was a doctor pronounced it to be in his opinion the skull of a negro After this oracular utterance she resolved to make a clean breast of all she knew which however did not amount to much The skull we were informed was that of a negro servant who had lived in the service of a Roman Catholic priest Some difference arose between them but whether the priest murdered the servant in order to conceal some crimes known to the negro or whether the negro in a fit of passion killed his master did not clearly appear However, the negro had declared before his death that his spirit would not rest until his body was taken to his native land and buried there This was not done He being buried in the churchyard of Betiscombe Then the haunting began Fearful screams proceeded from the grave the doors and windows of the house rattled and creaked strange sounds were heard all over the house In short there was no rest for the inmates until the body was dug up At different periods attempts were made to bury the body but similar disturbances always reoccurred In process of time the skeleton disappeared all saved the skull and its reputation as the screaming skull remains unimpaired In a farmhouse in Sussex are preserved two skulls from Hastings Priory about which many gruesome stories are current in the neighbourhood One of these skulls it appears has been in the house many years The other was placed there by a former tenant of the farm It is the prevalent impression in the locality that if by any chance the former skull were to be removed the cattle in the farm would die and unearthly sounds be heard in and about the house at night time According to a local tradition the skull belonged to a man who murdered the owner of the house and marks of blood are pointed out on the floor of the adjoining room where the murder is said to have been committed and which no washing will remove But on more than one occasion the skull has been taken away without any ill effects and one year was placed by a profane hand in a branch of a neighbouring tree where it remained a whole summer during which time a bird's nest was constructed within it and a young brood successfully reared and yet the old superstition still survives and the prejudice against tampering with this peculiar skull has in no way diminished There are the remains of a skull in three parts at Tunsted a farmhouse about a mile-and-a-half from chapel in Le Thryth which although popularly known by the male cognomen Dickey has always been said to be that of a woman How long it has been located in its present home is not known Tradition tells how one of two co-aeresses residing here was murdered who solemnly affirmed that her bones should remain in the place forever In days past this skull has been guilty of all sorts of eccentric pranks many of which are still told by the credulous peasantry with respectful awe It is added also that if Dickey should accidentally be removed everything in the farm will go wrong the cows will be dry and barren the sheep have the rot and horses fall down breaking their knees and otherwise injuring themselves The story goes too that when the London and north-western railway to Manchester was being made the foundations of a bridge gave way in the yielding sands and bog and after several attempts to build the bridge had failed it was found necessary to divert the highway and pass it under the railway on higher ground These engineering failures were attributed to the malevolent influence of Dickey but as soon as the road was diverted it was bridged successfully because no longer in Dickey's territory A similar superstition attaches to a skull kept in a farmhouse at Chilton Cantello in Somersetshire From the date on the tombstone of the former owner of the skull, 1670 it has been conjectured that he came to the retired village in which he was buried after taking an active part on the republican side in the civil war and that seeing the way in which the bodies of some of them who had acted with him were treated after the restoration he wished to provide against this in his own case but whatever the previous history of this curious skull it has at times caused a great deal of trouble resenting any proposal to consign it to the earth for buried it will not be no matter how many attempts are made to do so strange to say most of this class of skulls behave in the same extraordinary fashion at a short distance from Turton Tower one of the most interesting structures in the neighbourhood of Bolton is a farmhouse locally designated Timberbottom or the Skull House so called from the circumstance that two skulls are or were kept there one of which was much decayed whereas the other appeared to have been cut through by a blow from some sharp instrument these skulls it is said have been buried many times in the graveyard at Bradshaw Chapel but they have always had to be exhumed and brought back to the farmhouse on one occasion they were thrown into the adjacent river but to no purpose for they had to be fished up and restored to their old quarters before the ghosts of their owners could once more rest in peace a popular cause assigned for this strange behaviour on the part of certain skulls is that their owners met with a violent death and that the avenging spirit in this manner annoys the living reminding us of Macbeth's words blood hath been shed air now in the olden time a human statue purged the gentle wheel and since two murders have been performed too terrible for the ear the times have been that when the brains were out the man would die and there an end but now they rise again with 20 mortal murders on their crowns and push us from our stalls this is more strange than such a murder is hence a romantic and tragic story is told of two skulls which have long haunted an old house near Ambleside it appears that a small piece of ground known as Calgrath was owned by a humble farmer named Craster Cook and his wife Dorothy but their little inheritance was covered by a wealthy magistrate Miles Philipson who unable to induce them to part with it swore he'd have that ground be they live or dead as time wore on however he appeared more gracious to Craster and Dorothy and actually invited them to a great Christmas banquet given to the neighbours it was a dear feast for them for Miles Philipson pretended they had stolen a silver cup and sure enough it was found in Craster's house a plant of course such an offence was then capital and as Philipson was the magistrate Craster and Dorothy were sentenced to death there upon Dorothy arose in the courtroom and addressed Philipson in words that rang through the building and impressed all for their awful earnestness guard thyself Miles Philipson thou thinkest thou hast managed grandly but that tiny lump of land is the dearest of Philipson has ever bought or stolen for you will never prosper, neither your breed whatever scheme you undertake will wither in your hand the side you take will always lose the time shall come when no Philipson shall own an inch of land and while Calgarth Wall shall stand will haunt it night and day never will ye be riddivus henceforth the Philipsons had for their guests two skulls they were found at Christmas at the head of a staircase they were buried in a distant region but they turned up in the old house again and again with the two skulls burned they were brazed to dust and cast to the winds and for several years they were cast in the lake but the Philipsons could never get rid of them in the meantime Dorothy's weird went steadily on to its fulfilment until the family sank into poverty and as length disappeared as a more rational explanation of the matter it is told by some local historians that they're formally lived in the house of famous doctoris who had two skeletons by her for the usual purposes of her profession and these skulls happening to meet with better preservation than the rest of the bones they were accidentally honoured with this singular tradition Wardley Hall Lancashire has its skull which is supposed to be the witness of some tragedy committed in the past and has belonged to Roger Downes the last male representative of his family and who was one of the most abandoned courtiers of Charles II Roby in one of his traditions entitled The Skull House has represented him as rushing forth hot from the stews drawing his sword as he staggered along and swearing that he would kill the first man he met terrible to say that fearful oath was fulfilled for his victim was a poor tailor whom he ran through with his weapon and killed on the spot he was apprehended for the crime but his interest at court quickly procured him a free pardon and he soon continued his reckless course but one evening as his sister and cousin Eleanor were chatting together at Wardley the carrier from Manchester brought a wooden box which had come all the way from London by Anthony's wagon suspecting that there was something mysterious connected with this package for the direction was a quaint crabbed hand she opened it in secret when to her amazement and horror this writing attracted her notice thy brother has at length paid the forfeit of his crimes the wages of sin is death and his head is before thee heaven hath avenged the innocent blood he hath shed last night in the lusty vigor of a drunken debauch passing over London Bridge he encounters another brawl wherein having run at the watchman with his rapier one blow of the bill which they carried severed thy brother's head from his trunk the latter was cast over the parapet into the river the head only remained which an eyewitness, if not a friend hath sent to thee his sister tried at first to keep the story of her brother's death a secret and hid with all speed this ghastly memorial forever as she hoped from the gaze and knowledge of the world it was her desire to conceal this foul stain upon the family name but the grave gives back its dead the charnal gapes the ghastly head hath burst its cold tabernacle and risen from the dust no human power could drive it away it hath been torn in pieces, burnt and otherwise destroyed but even on the subsequent day it is seen filling its wanted place yet it was always observed that sore vengeance lighted on its persecutors one who hacked it in pieces was seized with such horrible torments in his limbs that it seemed as though he might be undergoing the same process sometimes, if only displaced a fearful storm would arise so loud and terrible that the very elements themselves seem to become the ministers of its wrath nor will this eccentric piece of mortality allow the little aperture in which it rests to be walled up for it remains there still whitened and bleached by the weather looking forth from those railers sockets upon the scenes which, when living, they had once beheld towards the close of the last century Thomas Barrett, the Manchester Antiquary visited this skull this surprising piece of household furniture as he calls it and adds that one of us who was last in company with it removed it from its place into a dark part of the room and there left it and returned home but on the following night a violent storm arose in the neighbourhood causing an immense deal of damage trees being blown down and roofs unthatched and the cause, as it was supposed, being ascertained the skull was replaced when these terrific disturbances ceased and yet, as Thomas Barrett sensibly remarks all this might have happened had the skull never been removed but with all it keeps alive the credibility of the tradition formerly two keys were provided for this place of a skull one being kept by the tenant of the hall and the other by the Countess of Ellesmere the owner of the property the Countess occasionally accompanied visitors from the neighbouring Wersley Hall and herself unlocked the door and revealed to her friends the grinning skull of Wardley Hall another romantic story is associated with Burton Agnes Hall between Bridlington and Drifield Yorkshire which is haunted by the spirit of a lady a co-aerys of the estate who is popularly known as Old Nance the skull of this lady is carefully preserved in the hall and so long as it is left undisturbed all goes well but whenever any attempt is made to remove it the most unearthly noises are heard in the house and last until it is restored according to a local tradition many years ago the three co-aeryses of the estate of Burton Agnes were possessed of considerable wealth and finding the ancient mansion in which they resided not in harmony with their ideas of what a home should be suited to their position determined to erect a house in such a style as should eclipse all others in the neighbourhood the most prominent organiser of the scheme was the younger sister Anne who could talk or think of nothing but the magnificent home about to be built which in due time it is said emerged from the hands of artists and workmen like a palace erected by the genie of the Arabian knights a palace encrusted throughout on walls, roof and furniture with the most exquisite carvings and sculptures of the most skilled masters of the age and radiant with the most glowing tints of the pencil of Peter Paul but soon after its completion and occupation by its three co-aeryses Anne, the enthusiast paid an afternoon visit to the St Quentyns at Harpham on starting to return home about nightfall with her dog she had gone no great distance when she was confronted by two ruffianly looking beggars who asked arms she readily gave them a few coins and in doing so the glitter of her fingering accidentally attracted their notice which they at once demanded should be given up to them this she refused to do as it had been her mother's ring and was one which she valued above all price mother or no mother gruffly replied one of the rogues we mean to have it and if you do not part with it freely we must take it whereupon he seized her hand and attempted to drag off the ring frightened at this act of violence Anne screamed for help at which the other ruffian exclaiming stop that noise struck her a blow and she fell senseless to the earth but her screams had attracted attention and the approach of some villagers caused the villains to make a hasty retreat without being able to get the ring from her finger in a dying condition as it was supposed Anne was carried back to Harpham Hall where under the care of Lady St Quentyn she made sufficient recovery to be removed the following day to her own home the brutal treatment she had received from the highwaymen however had done its fatal work and after a few days during which she was alternately sensible and delirious she succumbed to the effects her one thought previous to death was her devotion to her home which had latterly been the ruling passion of her life and bidding her sisters farewell she addressed them thus sisters never shall I sleep peacefully in my grave in the churchyard unless I, or a part of me at least remain here in our beautiful home as long as it lasts promise me this dear sisters that when I am dead my head shall be taken from my body and preserved within these walls here let it forever remain and on no account be removed and understand and make it known to those who in future shall become possessors of the house that if they disobey this my last injunction my spirit shall, if so able and so permitted make such a disturbance within its walls as to render it uninhabitable for others so long as my head is divorced from its home her sisters promised to exceed to her dying request but failed to do so and her body was laid in tyre under the pavement of the church within a few days Burton Agnes Hall was disturbed by the most alarming noises and no servant could be induced to remain in the house in this dilemma the two sisters remembered that they had not carried out Anne's last wish and at the suggestion of the clergyman the coffin was opened when a strange sight was seen the body lay without any marks of corruption or decay but the head was disengaged from the trunk and appeared to be rapidly assuming the semblance of a fleshless skull this was reported to the two sisters and on the vicar's advice the skull of Anne was taken to Burton Agnes Hall where so long as it remained undisturbed no ghostly noises were heard it may be added that numerous attempts have from time to time been made to rid the whole of this skull but without success many other similar skulls are still existing in various places and in addition to their antiquarian interest they have attracted the sights here connected as they mostly are with tales of legendary romance an amusing anecdote of a skull is told by the late Mr Wurt Sykes it seems that on a certain day some men were drinking at an inn when one of them to show his courage and want of superstition affirmed that he was afraid of no ghosts and dared to go to the church and fetch a skull this he did had after an hour or so of merry making over the skull he carried it back to where he had found it but as he was leaving the church suddenly a tremendous blast like a whirlwind seized him and so mawled him that he ever after maintained that nothing should induce him to do such a thing again the man was still more convinced that the ghost of the original owner of the skull had been after him when his wife informed him that the cane which hung in his room had been beating against the wall in a dreadful manner Byron had his skull romance at Newstead but in this case the skull was more orderly and not given to those unpleasant pranks of which other skulls have seemingly been guilty whilst living at Newstead a skull was one day found of large dimensions and peculiar whiteness concluding that it belonged to some friar who had been domesticated at Newstead prior to the confiscation of the monasteries by Henry VIII Byron determined to convert it into a drinking vessel and for this purpose dispatched it to London where it was elegantly mounted on its return to Newstead he instituted a new order at the Abbey constituting himself grand master or abbot of the skull the members 12 in number were provided with black gowns that of Byron as head of the fraternity being distinguished from the rest a chapter was held at certain times when the skull drinking goblet was filled with claret and handed about amongst the gods of this consistory while many a grim joke was cracked at the expense of this relic of the dead the following lines were inscribed upon it by Byron Start not nor deem my spirit fled in me behold the only skull from which unlike a living head whatever flows is never dull I lived I loved I coffed like thee I died let earth my bones resign fill up thou cants not injure me the worm hath foul a lips than mine where once my wit perchance hath shone in aid of others let me shine and when alas our brains are gone what nobler substitute than wine coff while thou canst another race when thou and thine like me are sped may rescue thee from earth's embrace and rhyme and revel with the dead why not since through life's little day our heads such sad effects produce redeemed from worms and wasting clay this chance is theirs to be of use the skull it is said is buried beneath the floor of the chapel at Newstead Abbey End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of Strange Pages from Family Papers 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 3 Eccentric Vows no man takes or keeps a vow but just as he sees others do nor are they blige to be so brittle as not to yield and bow a little for as best-tempered blades are found before they break to bend quite round so truest oaths are still more tough and though they bow are breaking proof of the Sutler's Hoodie Brow epistle to his lady number 75 Some 250 years ago the prevailing colour in all dresses was that shade of brown known as the Couillir Isabel and this was its origin a short time after the siege of Orston commenced as the beginning of the 17th century Isabella Eugenia, guvernant of the Netherlands incensed at the obstinent bravery of the defenders reported to have made a vow that she would not change a commise till the town surrendered it was a marvellously inconvenient vow for the siege, according to the precise historians thereof lasted three years, three months, three weeks, three days and three hours and a highness's garment had wonderfully changed its colour before twelve months of the time had expired but the ladies and gentlemen of the court in no way dismayed resolved to keep their mistress in countenance and after a struggle between their loyalty and their cleanliness they hid upon the compromising expedient of wearing dresses of the presumed colour finally attained by the garment which clunged the imperial arch duchas by force of religious obstinency but foolish and eccentric as was the conduct of Isabella Eugenia there have been persons gifted like herself with sufficient mental power and strength of character to keep the vows they have sworn thus at a tournament held on the 17th of November 1559 the first anniversary of Queen Elizabeth's accession Sir Henry Lee of Quarendon made a vow that every year on the return of that auspicious day he would present himself in the tiltyard in honour of the queen to maintain her beauty, worth and dignity against all comers unless prevented by infirmity, accident or age Elizabeth accepted Sir Henry as her knight and champion and the nobility and gentry of the court formed themselves into an honourable society of knights, tilters which held a grand tourney every 17th of November but in the year 1590 Sir Henry on account of his age resigned his office having previously, by Her Majesty's permission appointed the famous Earl of Cumberland as his successor on this occasion the royal choir sang the following verses as Sir Henry Lee's farewell to the court my helmet now shall make a hive for bees and lovers' songs shall turn to holy psalms a man at arms must now sit on his knees and feed on prayers that are old ages arms and so from court to cottage I depart my saint is sure of mine unspotted heart and when I sadly sit in homely cell my saint is sure of mine unspotted heart and when I sadly sit in homely cell I'll teach my saints this carol for a song blessed be the hearts that wish my sovereign well cursed be the souls that think to do her wrong goddess vouchsafe this aged man his right to be your beadman now that was your knight but not long after Sir Henry Lee had resigned his office of his special champion of the beauty of the sovereign he fell in love with the new maid of honour the fair Mrs Anna Vavasor who, though in the morning flower of her charms and esteemed the loveliest girl in the whole court drove a whole bevy of youthful lovers to despair by accepting this ancient relic of the age of chivalry Queen Isabella vowed to make a pilgrimage to Barcelona and returned thanks at the tomb of that city's patron saint if the infant Eulaly recovered from an apparently mortal illness and Queen Joan of Naples honoured the night Galliazzo of Mantua by opening the ball with him at a grand feast at her castle of Gaeta at the conclusion of the dance Galliazzo kneeling down before his royal partner vowed as an acknowledgement of the honour he had received to visit every country where feats of arms were performed and not to rest until he had subdued too many people not to rest until he had subdued two valiant knights and presented them as prisoners to the Queen to be disposed of at her royal pleasure after an absence of twelve months Galliazzo true to his vow appeared at Naples and laid his two prisoners at the feet of Queen Joan but who, it is said, displayed commendable wisdom on the occasion and declined her right to impose rigorous conditions on her captives and gave them liberty without ransom Such cases, it is true, have been somewhat rare or made often times on the impulse of the moment unheedful vows, as Shakespeare says, may heedfully be broken but scarce as the records of unbroken vows may be they are deserving of a permanent record more especially as the direction of their eccentricity is for the most part in itself curious and uncommon Llyw, for instance, has been responsible for many strange and curious vows in the past and some years ago it was stated that the original of Charles Dickens's Miss Havisham was living in the flesh not far from Ventana in the person of an old maiden lady who because of the maternal objection to some love affair in her early life made and kept a vow that she would retire to her bed and there spend the remainder of her days it was a stern vow but she kept her word and the years have come and gone and the house has never been swept or garnished the garden is an overgrown tangle and the eccentric lady has spent 20 years between the sheets but whether this piece of romance is to be accepted or not love has been the cause of many foolish acts and many a disappointed damsel has acted in no less eccentric a fashion than Miss Havisham who was so completely overcome by the failure of Compison to appear on the wedding morning that she became fossilised and gave orders that everything was to be kept unchanged but to remain as it had been on that hapless day henceforth she was always attired in her bridal dress with lace veil from head to foot white shoes bridal flowers in her white hair and jewels on her hands and neck years went on the wedding breakfast remained set on the table while the poor half demented lady flitted from one room to another like a restless ghost and the case is recorded of another lady whose lover was arrested for for forgery on the day before their marriage was to have taken place her vow took the form of keeping to her room sitting winter and summer alike at her casement and waiting for him who was turning the treadmill and who was never to come again on the other hand vows have been made but persons have contrived to rid themselves of the inconveniences without breaking them reminding us of Benedict who finding the charms of his dear lady disdain too much for his celibate resolves gets out of his difficulty by declaring that when I said I would die a bachelor I did not think I should live till I were married equally ludicrous also is the story told of a certain man who greatly terrified in a storm vowed he would eat no haberdine but just as the danger was over he qualified his promise with not without mustard oh lord and Voltaire in one of his romances represents a disconsolate widow vowing that she will never marry again so long as the river flows by the side of the hill but a few months afterwards the widow recovers from her grief and contemplating matrimony takes council with a clever engineer he sets to work the river is deviated from its course and in a short time it no longer flows by the side of the hill the lady released from her vow does not allow many days to elaps before she exchanges her weeds for a bridal veil however far-fetched this little romance may be a veritable instance of thus keeping to the letter of the vow and neglecting the spirit was recorded not so long ago a salopian parish clerk seeing a woman crossing the churchyard with a bundle and a watering can followed her curious to know what intentions might be and discovered that she was a widow of a few months standing inquiring what she was going to do with the watering pot she informed him that she had been obtaining some grass seed to grow on her husband's grave and had brought a little water to make it spring up quickly the clerk told her there was no occasion to trouble the grave would be green in good time ah, that may be she replied but my poor husband made me take a vow not to marry again until the grass has grown over his grave and having a good offer I do not wish to break my vow or keep as I am longer than I can help but vows have not always been broken with impunity Janet Dalrymple, daughter of the first Lord Stare secretly engaged herself to Lord Rutherford who was not acceptable to her parents either on account of his political principles or his want of fortune the young couple broke a piece of gold together and pledged their truth in the most solemn manner the young lady it is said imprecating dreadful evils on herself should she break her plighted faith but shortly afterwards another suitor sought the hand of Janet Dalrymple and when she showed a cold indifference to his overtures her mother, Lady Stare insisted upon her consenting to marry the new suitor David Dunbar, son and heir of David Dunbar of Baldoon in Wigtonshire it was in vain that Janet Dalrymple confessed her secret engagement for Lady Stare treated this objection as a mere trifle Lord Rutherford apprised of what had happened interfered by letter and insisted on the rights he had acquired by his truth plighted with Janet Dalrymple but Lady Stare answered in a reply that her daughter, sensible of her undueful behaviour in entering into a contract unsanctioned by her parents had retracted her unlawful vow and now refused to fulfil her engagement with him Lord Rutherford rose again to Lady Stare and briefly informed her that he declined positively to receive such an answer from anyone but Janet Dalrymple and accordingly an interview was arranged between them at which Lady Stare took good care to be present with pertinacity insisting on the Levitical Law which declares that a woman shall be free of a vow which her parents dissent from while Lady Stare insisted on her right to break the engagement Lord Rutherford in vain entreated Janet Dalrymple to declare her feelings but she remained mute, pale and motionless as a statue and it was only at her mother's command, sternly ottered she summoned strength enough to restore the broken piece of gold the emblem of her truth At this unexpected act Lord Rutherford burst into a tremendous passion took leave of Lady Stare with maledictions and as he left the room gave one angry glance at Janet Dalrymple remarking For you, madam, you will be a world's wonder a phrase denoting some remarkable degree of calamity In due time the marriage between Janet Dalrymple and David Dombar of Baldoon took place, the bride showing no repugnance but being absolutely impassive in everything Lady Stare commanded or advised always maintaining the same sad, silent and resigned look The bridal feast was followed by dancing and the bride and bridegroom retired as usual when suddenly the most wild and piercing cries were heard from the noctule chamber which at length became so hideous that a general rush was made to learn the cause on opening the door a ghastly scene presented itself for the bridegroom was discovered lying on the floor dreadfully wounded and streaming with blood the bride was seen sitting in the corner of the large chimney dabbled in gore, grinning in short, absolutely insane and the only words she uttered were Take up your bunny bridegroom She survived this tragic event little over a fortnight having been married on the 24th of August and dying on the 12th of September The unfortunate bridegroom recovered from his wounds but strange to say he never permitted anyone to ask him to respect the manner in which he had received them but he did not long survive this dreadful catastrophe meeting with a fatal injury by a fall from a horse as he was one day riding between Leith and Holyrood House as might be expected various reports went abroad respecting this mysterious affair most of them being inaccurate but the story has gained a lasting notoriety to Walter Scott having founded his Bride of Lammermore upon it who, in his introductory notes to that novel has given some curious facts concerning this tragic occurrence quoting an elegy of Andrew Simpson which takes the form of a dialogue between a passenger and a domestic servant the first recollecting that he had passed Lord Steyer's house lately and seen all around and livened by mirth and festivity his desirus of knowing what has changed so gay a scene into mourning whereupon the servant replies Sir, it is truth you've told we did enjoy great mirth, but now, army our joyful songs turned to an elegy a virtuous lady, not long since a bride was to a hopeful plant by marriage tied and brought home hither we did all rejoice even for her sake but presently her voice was turned to mourning for that little time that she enjoyed she waned in her prime for atropos with her impartial knife soon cut her thread and there was all her life and for the time we may it well remember it being in unfortunate September where we must leave her till the resurrection it is then the saints enjoy their full perfection many a vow too rashly made has been followed by an equally tragic result instances of which are to be met within the legendary law of our county families a somewhat curious legend is connected with a monument in the church of Stoke-Dabernon, sorry the story goes that two young brothers of the family of Vincent the elder of whom had just come into his estate were out shooting on Fair Mile Common about two miles from the village they had put up several birds but had not been able to get a single shot when the elder swore with an oath that he would fire at whatever they next met with they had not gone far before a neighbouring miller passed them whereupon the younger brother reminded the elder of his oath who immediately fired at the miller and killed him on the spot through the influence of his family backed by large sums of money no effective steps were taken to apprehend young Vincent but after leading a life of complete seclusion for some years death finally put an end to the insupportable anguish of his mind a pretty romance is told of Fairness Abbey locally known as the Abbey Vows many years ago Matilda, the pretty and much admired daughter of a squire residing near Stainton had been wooed and won by James a neighbouring farmer's son but as Matilda was the only child her father fondly imagined that her rare beauty and fortune combined would procure her a good match little thinking that her heart was already given to one whose position he would never recognise it so happened however that the young people through force of circumstances were separated neither hearing nor seeing of each other for some years at last by chance they were thrown together when the active service in which James was employed had given his fine manly form an appearance which was at once imposing and captivating Matilda too was improved in every eye and never had James seen so lovely a maid as his former playmate their youthful hearts were disengaged and they soon resolved to render their attachment as binding and as permanent as it was pure and undivided the period arrived also when James must again go to sea and leave Matilda to have her fidelity tried by other suitors both therefore were willing to bind themselves by some solemn pledge to live but for each other for this purpose they repaired on the evening before James's departure to the ruins of Furnace Abbey it was a fine, autumnal evening the sun had set in the greatest beauty and the moon was hastening up the eastern sky and in the ruthless choir they knelt near where the altar formally stood and repeated in the presence of heaven their vows of deathless love they parted but the fate of the betrothed lovers was a melancholy one James returned his ship for foreign service and was killed by the first broadside of a French privatier with which the captain had injudiciously ventured to engage as for Matilda she regularly went to the abbey to visit the spot where she had knelt with her lover and there it is said she would stand for hours with clasped hands gazing on that heaven which alone had been witness to their mutual vows another momentous vow but one of a terribly tragic nature relates to Sam-Lisbury Hall which stands about midway between Preston and Blackburn and has long been famous for its apparition of the Lady in White the story generally told is that one of the daughters of Sir John Southworth a former owner formed an attachment with the heir of a neighbouring house and nothing was wanting to complete their happiness except the consent of the lady's father Sir John was accordingly consulted by the youthful couple but the tale of their love for each other only increased his rage and he dismissed them with the most bitter denunciations No daughter of his should ever be united to the son of a family which had deserted its ancestral faith he solemnly vowed and to intensify his disapproval of the whole affair he forbad the young man his presence for ever difficulty however only served to increase the ardour of the lovers and after many secret interviews among the wooded slopes of the Ribble an elopement was arranged in the hope that time would eventually bring her father's forgiveness but the day and place were unfortunately overheard by the lady's brother who had hidden himself in a thicket close by determined if possible to prevent what he considered to be his sister's disgrace on the evening agreed upon both parties met at the appointed hour and as the young knight moved away with his betrothed her brother rushed from his hiding place and in pursuance of a vow he had made slew him after this tragic occurrence Lady Dorothy was sent abroad to a convent where she was kept under strict surveillance but her mind at last gave way the name of her murdered sweetheart was ever on her lips and she died a raving maniac it is said that on certain clear still evenings a lady in white can be seen passing along the gallery and the corridors and then from the hall into the grounds where she meets a handsome knight who receives her on his bended knees and he then accompanies her along the walks on arriving at a certain spot in all probability the lovers grave both the phantoms stand still and as they seem to utter soft wailings of despair they embrace each other and then their forms rise slowly from the earth and melt away into the clear blue of the surrounding sky a strange and romantic story is told of Blenkinsop Castle which too has long been haunted by a white lady it seems that its owner, Brian de Blenkinsop despite many good qualities had an inordinate love of wealth which ultimately wrecked his fortune at the marriage feast of a brother warrior with a lady of high rank and fortune the health was drunk of Brian de Blenkinsop and his lady love but to the surprise of all present Brian made a vow that never shall that be until I meet with a lady possessed of a chest of gold heavier than ten of my strongest men can carry into my castle soon afterwards he went abroad and after an absence of twelve years returned not only with a wife but possessed of a box of gold that took three of the strongest men to convey to the castle a grand banquet was given in honour of his return and after several days feasting and rejoicing vague rumours were spread of dissensions between the Lord and his lady one day the young husband disappeared and never returned to Blenkinsop nothing more being heard of him but the traditionary account of this mystery asserts that his young wife filled with remorse at her undutiful conduct towards him cannot rest in her grave but must wonder about the old castle and mourn over the chest of gold the cursed cause of all their misery of which it is supposed she with the assistance of others had deprived her husband it is generally admitted that the cause of Brian de Blenkinsop's future unhappiness was the rash vow he uttered at that fatal banquet associated with this curious romance there are current in the neighbourhood many tales of a more or less legendary character but there has long been a firm belief that treasure lies buried beneath the crumbling ruins according to one story given in Richardson's table book of traditions some years ago two of the more habitable apartments of Blenkinsop castle were utilised by a labourer of the estate and his family but one night the parents were aroused by screams from the adjoining room and rushing in they found their little son sitting up in bed terribly frightened what's the matter the white lady cried the boy what lady asked the bewildered parents there is no lady here she's gone replied the boy angry because I would not go with her she was a fine lady and she sat down on my bedside and wrung her hands and cried sore then she kissed me and asked me to go with her and she would make me a rich man as she had buried a large box of gold many hundred years since down in a vault and she would give it me as she could not rest so long as it was there when I told her I'd just not go she said she would carry me and was lifting me up when I cried out and frightened her away when the boy grew up he invariably persisted in the truth of his statement and at 40 years of age could recall the scene so vividly as to make him shudder as if still he felt her cold lips press his cheeks and the deathlike embrace of her one arms equally curious as the old tradition told of Linton Castle of which not a stone remains although once upon a time it was a stately a stronghold as ever echoed to the clash of nightly arms one evening there came to its gates a monk who in the name of the holy virgin asked arms but the lady of the castle liked not his gloomy brow and made him be gone resenting such treatment the monk drew up his well-knit frame and vowed all that is thine shall be mine until in the porch of the holy church a lady and a child shall stand and beckon little heed was taken of these ominous words and as years passed by a baron succeeded to the Linton Estates whose greed was such that he dared to lay his sacrilegious hand even upon holy treasures but as he sat among his gold the black monk entered and summoned him to his fearful audit and his servants aroused by his screams found only a lifeless corpse this was considered retribution for his sins of the past and his son taking warning girded on his sword and in Palestine did dowty deeds against the Saracen by his side was constantly seen the mysterious black monk his friend and guide but at length the wine-cup and the smiles of lewed women lured him from the path of right after a time the night returned to Devonshire and lo on the happy Sabbath morning the chimes of the church bells flung out their silver music on the air and the memories of an innocent childhood woke up instantly in his soaring heart in vain the black monk sought to begarl him from the holy fein and whispered to him of bright eyes in a distant bower he paused only for a moment in the shadow of the porch stood the luminous forms of his mother and sister who lifted up their spirit hands and beckoned the night tore himself from the black monk's grasp and rushed towards them exclaming the story adds that the three were born up in a radiant cloud but the black monk lept headlong into the depths of the abyss beneath and the castle fell to pieces with a sudden crash and where his towers had stored stately into the sunlit air was now outspread to the very desolation the valley of the rocks and thus the vow was accomplished all that remains nowadays to remind the visitor of that stately castle and its surroundings being a lonely glen in the valleys of rocks were a party of marauders, it is said were once overtaken and slaughtered in some cases churches have been built in performance of vows and at the Titchbourne trial one of the witnesses deposed how Sir Edward Douty made a vow when his son was ill that if the child recovered he would build a church at pool contrary to all expectation the child did recover most miraculously for it had been ill beyond all hope and Sir Edward built a church at pool and there it stands until this day there are numerous stories of the same kind and the peculiar position of the Old Church of St Anthony in Curia Cornwall is accounted for by the following tradition it is said that, soon after the conquest as some Normans of rank were crossing from Normandy into England they were driven by a terrific storm on the Cornish coast where they were in imminent danger of destruction in their peril and distress they called on St Anthony and made a vow that if he would preserve them from a shipwreck build a church in his honour on the spot where they first landed the vessel was wafted into the Dura Creek and there the pious Normans as soon as possible fulfilled their vow a similar tradition is told of Gunwallow Parish Church which a local legend says was erected as a votive offering by one who here escaped from a shipwreck four when he had miraculously escaped from the fury of the waves he vowed that he would build a chapel in which the sounds of prayer and praise to God should blend with a never-ceasing voice of those waves from which he had but narrowly escaped so near to the sea is the church that at times it is reached by the waves which have frequently washed away the walls of the churchyard but vows of a similar nature have been connected with sacred buildings in most countries and Vienna owes the church of St Charles to a vow made by the emperor Charles VI during an epidemic the silver ship given by the queen of St Louis was made in accordance with a vow according to Joinfy the queen said she wanted the king to beg he would make some vows to God and the saints for the sailors around her were in the greatest danger of being drowned Madam, I replied vow to make a pilgrimage to my Lord Saint Nicholas at Varongavie and I promise you that God will restore you in safety to France at least then Madam, promise him that if God shall restore you in safety to France you will give him a silver ship of the value of five masses and if you shall do this I assure you that at the entreaty of St Nicholas God will grant you a successful voyage upon this she made a vow of a silver ship to St Nicholas similarly there was a statue at Venice said to have performed great miracles a merchant vowed perpetual gifts of wax candles ingratitude for being saved by the light of a candle on a dark night reminding us of Byron's description of a storm at sea in Don Juan, Canto 2 some went to prayers again and made vows of candles to their saints numerous vows of this kind are recorded and it may be remembered how a certain empress promised a golden lamp to the church of Notre Dame de Victoire in the event of her husband coming safely out of the doctor's hands and as recently as the year 1867 a tired in the garb of a pilgrim of the olden time walked in fulfilment of a vow from Madrid to Rome when she fancied herself at death's door many card players and game-sters unable to bear reverse have made vows which they lacked the moral courage to keep Dr Norman MacLeod tells a curious anecdote of a well-known character who lived in the parish of Sedgley near Wolverhampton and who, having lost a considerable sum of money by a match at cock fighting to which practice he was notoriously addicted made a vow that he would never fight another cock as long as he lived frequently calling upon God to dam his soul to all eternity if he did with dreadful implications wishing the devil might fetch him if he ever made another bet for a time he adhered to his vow but two years afterwards he was inspired with a violent desire to attend a cock fight at Wolverhampton and accordingly visited the place for that purpose on reaching the scene he soon disregarded his vow and cried I hold four to three on such a cock For what? said one of his companions four shillings replied he said the other upon which they confirmed the wager and as his custom was he threw down his hat and put his hand in his pocket for the money when he instantly fell down dead terrified at the sight some who were present for ever after desisted from this infamous sport but others proceeded in the barbarous diversion as soon as the dead body was removed from the spot another inveterate gambler was Colonel Edgeworth who on one occasion having lost all his ready cash at the card tables actually borrowed his wife's diamond earrings and staking them had a fortunate turn of luck rising a winner whereupon he solemnly vowed never to touch cards or dice again and yet it is said before the week was out he was pulling straws from a rick and betting upon which should prove the longest on the other hand Tate Wilkinson relates an interesting anecdote of John Wesley who in early life was very fond of a game of wist and every Saturday was one of a constant party at a rubber not only for the afternoon but also for the evening but the last Saturday that he ever played at cards the rubber at wist was longer than he expected and on observing the tediousness of the game he pulled out his watch and to his show he found it was some minutes past eight which was beyond the time he had appointed for the Lord he thought the devil had certainly tempted him beyond his hour he suddenly therefore gave up his cards to a gentleman near him to finish the game and left the room making a vow never to play with the devil's pages as he called them again that vow he never broke political vows as is well known have a curious history and to his shame a curious history and an interesting incident is told in connection with one of the ancestors of Sir Walter Scott it appears at Walter Scott the first of Rayburn by Anne Isabel his wife daughter of William McDougall had two sons William direct ancestor of the lairs of Rayburn and Walter progenitor of the scots of Abbotsford the younger who was generally known by the curious appellation of bearded watt from a vow which he had made to leave his beard unshaven until the restoration of the stewards reminds us of those Serbian patriots who during the bombardment of Belgrade 30 years ago made a vow that they would never allow a razor to touch their faces until the thing could be done in the fortress itself five years afterwards in 1867 the Servians marched through the streets of Belgrade with enormous beards preceded by the barbers each with razor in hand and entered the fortress to have the last office of the vow performed on them end of chapter 3