Strange Pages from Family Papers Part 10

"A near relation of mine," said he, "expired last night in the castle.

Before such an event happens in this family and castle, the female spectre 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 no other than the Banshee, which in times past has been the source of so much terror in Ireland. Amongst the innumerable stories told of its appearance may be mentioned one related by Mrs. Lefanu, the niece of Sheridan, in the memoirs of her grandmother, Mrs. Frances Sheridan. From this account we gather that Miss 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 before the news arrived from France of Mrs. Frances Sheridan's death at Blois.

She adds that a niece of Miss Sheridan's made her very angry by observing that as Mrs. Frances Sheridan was by birth a Chamberlaine, 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 Bodach Gla.s.s, which Sir Walter Scott has introduced in his "Waverley" as the messenger of bad-tidings to the MacIvors, the truth of which, it is said, has been traditionally proved by the experience of no less than three hundred years. It is thus described by Fergus to Waverley: "'You must know that when my ancestor, Ian nan Chaistel, 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 Vich Ian Vohr of the day when any great disaster was impending.'" Fergus then gives to Waverley a graphic and detailed account of the appearance 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 foot bridge, and kept walking backwards and forwards, when I observed, with surprise, by the clear moonlight, a tall figure in a grey plaid, which, move at what pace I would, kept regularly about four yards before me.'

"'You saw a c.u.mberland 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 compa.s.s. By heaven, Edward, turn where I would, the figure was instantly before my eyes at precisely the same distance. I was then convinced it was the Bodach Gla.s.s. 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 pa.s.s him as close as I am to you. A desperate courage, founded on the belief that my death was near, made me resolve to make my way in despite of him. I made the sign of the cross, drew my sword, and uttered, 'In the name of G.o.d, evil spirit, give place!'

"'Vich Ian Vohr,' it said, in a voice that made my very blood curdle; 'beware of to-morrow.'

"'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 pa.s.sage.'"

An ancestor of the family of McClean, of Lochburg, 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 "Peveril 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 a.s.sumed particular forms in different localities. Corby Castle, c.u.mberland, was famed for its "Radiant Boy," a luminous apparition which occasionally made its appearance, the tradition in the family being that the person who happened to see it 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 Castlereagh 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 a.s.sociated with Newstead Abbey:

A monk, arrayed In cowl and beads, and dusky 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 Millbanke:

By the marriage bed of 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 heir 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, 'Tis shadowed by 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 anyone 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 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 that, on certain evenings in the year, the spirit of the Ladye Margaret, a young daughter of the house of Pomeroy, appears clad in white on these steps, and, beckoning to the pa.s.sers-by, 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 superst.i.tion 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 o'er till the Duke is buried!"

FOOTNOTES:

[39] "Family Romance"--Sir Bernard Burke--1853, ii., 200-210.

[40] In 1641 there was published a tract, with a frontispiece, ent.i.tled "A True Relation of an Apparition, in the Likeness of a Bird with a white breast, that appeared hovering over the Death-bed of some of the children of Mr. James Oxenham, &c."

[41] This tradition has been wrought into a romantic story, ent.i.tled "Chartley, or the Fatalist."

[42] "Popular Romances of West of England."

CHAPTER XI.

WEIRD POSSESSIONS.

"But not a word o' it; 'tis fairies' treasure, Which, but revealed, brings on the blabber's ruin."

Ma.s.sINGER'S "_Fatal Dowry_."

From the earliest days a strange fatality has been supposed to cling to certain things--a phase of superst.i.tion which probably finds as many believers nowadays as when Homer wrote of the fatal necklace of Eriphyle that wrought mischief to all who had 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, such heirlooms have been preserved with a kind of superst.i.tious care, handed down from generation to generation.

One of the most remarkable curiosities connected with family superst.i.tions is what is commonly known as "The Coalstoun Pear," the strange antecedent history of which is thus given in a work ent.i.tled, "The Picture of Scotland": "Within sight of the House of Lethington, in Haddingtonshire, stands the mansions of Coalstoun, the seat of the ancient family of Coalstoun, whose estate pa.s.sed 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, with which the welfare of the family was formerly supposed to be connected.

"One of the Barons of Coalstoun, about three hundred years ago, married Jean Hay, daughter of John, third Lord Yester, with whom he obtained a dowry, not consisting of such base materials as houses or land, but neither more nor less than a pear. 'Sure such a pear was never seen,' however, as this of Coalstoun, 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 la.s.s might be, her dowry was much better, because, while she could only have value in her own generation, the pear, so long as it was 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 pear was preserved as a sacred palladium, both by the laird 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 pear, 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 Broun'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 whatsoever. The "Coalstowne pear," it is added, without regard to the superst.i.tion 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 Wilks, the proprietor of the estate of Ballafletcher, four or five miles from Douglas, Isle of Man. It is described as larger than a common bell-shaped tumbler, "uncommonly light and chaste in appearance, and ornamented with floral scrolls, having between the designs on two sides, upright columellae 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. Olave'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 Ballafletcher--it was sold with the effects of the last of the family, in 1778, and was bought by Robert Caesar, Esq., who gave it to his niece for safe keeping. 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 'Ihiannan Shee'

or 'peaceful spirit' of Ballafletcher." It was kept in a recess, whence 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-gla.s.s is preserved, the property of Sir George Musgrave of Edenhall, in c.u.mberland, 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed it from them. They did all they could to recover their ravished property, but failing, disappeared after p.r.o.nouncing the following prophecy:

If this gla.s.s do break or fall Farewell the luck of Edenhall.

So long, therefore, runs the legendary tale, as this drinking gla.s.s is preserved, the "luck of Edenhall" will continue to exist, but should ever the day occur when any mishap befalls 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 gla.s.s stoup, a drinking vessel, about six inches in height, having a circular base, perfectly flat, two inches in diameter, gradually expanding upwards till 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 gla.s.s is traced a 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 Douce, who was at Edenhall 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 room at Muncaster Castle which has long gone by the name of Henry the Sixth's room, from the circ.u.mstance 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 Muncaster, 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 Muncaster." "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 Muncaster 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 to disinter 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 forty years; at the expiration of which period, a Pennington, more courageous than his predecessors, unlocked the casket, and, much to the delight of all, proclaimed the Luck of Muncaster 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 Muncaster Castle good luck shall be, Till the charmed cup is broken.

Some things, again, have gained a strange notoriety through the force of circ.u.mstances. A curious story is 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 at Durley, when his life was p.r.o.nounced by a physician to be in imminent danger. Within twenty-four hours, while the doctor and Mrs. Carlisle--a relative of Mr.

Bourne--were sitting by his bedside, the doctor opened the curtains at the bed-foot to give him air, when suddenly a great iron chest by the window, with three locks--in which chest were all the writings and t.i.tle 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 twenty-four hours, raised himself up in the bed, and looking at the chest, cried out, "You say true, you say true; you are in the right; I will be with you by and bye." He then lay 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 Lovat 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 circ.u.mstance often formed the topic of conversation, and, among his clan, was looked upon as an unfortunate omen. By a curious coincidence, Lord Lovat was not only the last person beheaded on Tower Hill, but was the last person beheaded in this country--April 9, 1747--an event which Walpole has thus described in one of his letters, telling us that he died extremely well, without pa.s.sion, affectation, buffoonery, or timidity. He professed himself a Jansenist, made 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 death-bed 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 Wrathall, 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 her ladyship reflect on her promise, and drew some tears from her eyes."

CHAPTER XII.

ROMANCE OF DISGUISE.

PISANIO to IMOGEN: You must forget to be a woman; change Command into obedience: fear and niceness-- The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman its pretty self, into a waggish courage: Ready in gibes, quick answered, saucy, and As quarrelsome as the weasel; nay, you must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek Exposing it--but, Oh! the harder heart!

Alack! no remedy! to the greedy touch Of common-kissing t.i.tan, and forget Your laboursome and dainty trims.

"_Cymbeline_," ACT III., SC. 4.