Britain’s most haunted….?

Tags

Chambercombe manor, Devon, Ghosts, haunted houses, Ilfracombe, most haunted, supernatural

Chambercombe Manor

Chambercombe Manor is nestled in the leafy Devon countryside not far from Ilfracombe.  It’s charming whitewashed walls and doorways embraced by climbing plants hide a building with nearly a thousand years of history.  In other words, there has been an awful lot of time for strange phenomena to seep into the wood-work, accumulate in dark corners and permeate the very fabric of the building.  To say Chambercombe Manor is haunted is an understatement – it is considered one of the most haunted houses in Britain.

Dining hall at Chambercombe

Originally it was the home of the Champernon family, but it is now owned by The Chambercombe Manor Trust.  I visited the manor in 2010 in what must have been one of the wettest summers ever (and for England – that is saying something!) and took one of the Trusts very entertaining tours.  Unlike many properties open to the public in this house you can actually sit on the sinister seventeenth century chairs and (within reason) touch things!

The guide was really unconventional and explored the origins of many popular sayings with the aid of the furnishings (The turning of the tables, Sleep tight etc).  She also focused on the supernatural happenings in the house and told the chilling tale of the secret chamber and its grisly contents.

The Haunted Chamber

The most famous story associated with Chambercombe was unearthed in 1738 (or maybe it was 1865 – the sources seem to be hazy on this point) when a tenant was fixing the roof and noticed a window that he could not account for.  Intrigued, it was his wife who finally located a lost room by knocking on the walls until she heard a difference in the sound.  When the chamber was opened up,  amidst the dust and cobwebs they found a four-poster bed, and upon the bed lay the skeletal remains of a woman.

Haunted chamber – with the cradle that rocked the Most Haunted crew and the door to the bricked up chamber. Image from Chambercombe Manor Website

We entered the haunted chamber and settled down on the ancient oak chairs and iron-bound chests as the guide elaborated on the tragic tale.  I was lucky enough to grab a gorgeous carved oak chair (the one by the doorway in the picture) and my friend Bonnie was standing with her back to the door to the secret chamber.

The Devon coastline

The guide explained that Local legend says that the unfortunate woman was a rich lady visiting relatives at Chambercombe, but was shipwrecked and injured.  She was brought to the manor to recover but did not survive her ordeal.  The good will of her rescuers seems to have departed with the life of the lady, and as she was wearing very fine jewels, they decided to steal them and hide the body.  To conceal their crime the body was bricked up in the room abutting the chamber in which we sat.   Perhaps the inhabitants of the manor were engaged as Wreckers – luring ships to their doom on the rocky shores of the Devon Coast – perhaps not.

Whatever the truth of the tale, the story was gripping, so gripping in fact that at one point Bonnie even pitched forward as though to hear better.

The guide also explained how the Most Haunted crew visited Chambercombe and in the dead of night filmed the cradle (seen in the picture) apparently rocking of its own accord.  This elicited some squeals from a mother and daughter team of hysterics (who had seen that particular episode) because they were convinced that they had just the cradle rocking.

Jesus in a Jar, one of the strange curios on display

As we left the room Bonnie turned to me and said ‘I think the man behind me pushed me the t*** – it really hurt’ – but I had been sitting just behind where she stood and nobody was really near her and nobody – that I could see at least – pushed her.  She rolled up her sleeve and there was a fresh bruise forming on her arm.  Interesting.

My own experience at Chambercombe was a much more benign one.  Much of the manor is filled with beautiful but heavy and dark oak furniture from the sixteenth and seventeenth century, which lends a gloomy air to many of the rooms.

However one of the upstairs bedrooms was a lovely light airy room.  As soon as I entered the room I just wanted to laugh, it had such a jolly feeling to it.  More than that, I spied a large Georgian bureau or cabinet affair, with hanging medallion handles.  I was overcome with the impulse to turn them all upside over.  As my hand snaked towards the cabinet the guide began to talk.

Pottery communion chalice from the chapel

She explained that the room was supposed to be haunted by laughing and mischievous children, and that one of their tricks was to upturn the handles on the cabinet!  Sweet!

I have a rational explanation for my experience, involving a childhood obsession I had with upturning the handles on my grandpa’s old oak sideboard, but I’d like to think that this experience was something a little more unworldly!

There are many more tales about Chambercombe its history and its spectral inhabitants you may want to experience it for yourself….its a unique and very eccentric house.

Sources

Chambercombe Manor Website: http://www.chambercombemanor.org.uk/index.php
Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chambercombe_Manor

Wendy Andrews – Goddess Art

Tags

Alternative, Earth Goddess, Goddess Art, Luna Moon Hare, Pagan, Wendy Andrews

Wendy Andrews, Artist. Image copyright Wendy Andrews

Wendy Andrews has been painting all her life, and she has a degree in fine art from Cheltenham.  It was in the 1980’s that her focus began to shift towards expressing her love of the goddess in her art.  She is now world-renowned for her Goddess and Mythological paintings.

Mine all Mine! Earth Goddess wall-hanging, photo by Lenora, image copyright Wendy Andrews

I first came across Wendy’s art by chance when I was browsing in a great little alternative shop in Tynemouth called The Celtic Path.

I was immediately struck by a wall-hanging on display.  The shop owner told me a bit about the artist, and showed me some of her other art – some wonderful moon hare cards (much more affordable, and I have always loved hares)….but my eyes kept straying back to the wall-hanging of the Earth Goddess.

In the end I bought it, I just couldn’t resist it. It just captivated me with its earthy spirituality (and to be fair it wasn’t really that expensive for the size of it).  The lady in the shop also successfully managed to sell me a copy of Wendy Andrew’s Luna Moon Hare book, sight unseen (it wasn’t in stock right then).  She had managed to convince me that everyone who bought it was totally blown away by the art and the story of Luna Moon Hare.

When I finally picked up my copy, I was a bit surprised to see that  it was a children’s book, but nevertheless I was excited to read it because the art was guaranteed to be beautiful.

Luna Moon Hare by Wendy Andrews

Luna Moon Hare is subtitled A Magical Journey with the Goddess, and it really is a magical journey.  Even though it is aimed at children, I found myself really wrapped up in the story of Luna, who carries the crown of holly king, and then the oak king through the wheel of the year.  The moons of each month are named as are the festivals.  The story is genuinely lovely and poignant and it provides an accessible and memorable introduction to the Goddess and the wheel of the year.

Luna Moon Hare, photo by Lenora, image copyright Wendy Andrews

I decided to visit Wendy Andrews’ website ‘Painting Dreams‘ and read some of the feedback about the book – it seems that lots of people buy it for children but end up keeping it or ordering another copy for themselves! I can understand this -if you ever get the chance,  I would definately recommend you get a copy of this book.

Wendy also produces a lot of other Goddess and Mythology based art, including sacred animal art and the art of the sacred Masculine.  She also undertakes commissions –  I bought a copy of her Goddess Wheel of the Year, the huge original of which is displayed in the Temple of the Goddess in Glastonbury.

Luna Moon Hare at Beltane, photo by Lenora, image copyright Wendy Andrews

As you can tell, I am a fan of Wendy’s art, I think it is beautiful and inspirational and seems to come from the heart. On a practical level it’s also affordable as she produces everything from greetings cards, wall-hangings to limited addition prints, and one-off commissions.

Oh and my cats quite like her art too:

Goddess Wheel by Wendy Andrews

You can find out more about Wendy Andrews and her Goddess inspired art at her website:

http://www.paintingdreams.co.uk/

Review: The Woman in Black

The Woman in Black

The Woman in Black at the Theatre Royal Newcastle

The Woman in Black stage adaptation originated because of a underspent grant.  The Stephen Joseph Theatre in Scarborugh needed a Christmas play and had just enough spare cash to do a very small-scale and intimate show.  Robin Herford was standing in for the theatre manager Alan Aykbourne and took the executive decision to ask the resident playwright Stephen Mallatratt to come up with a ghost story for no more than four actors.  He did, adapting the Susan Hill ghost story.  It was low-budget and with a cast of only two (not counting the Woman in Black herself) but quarter of a century later it is still packing out theatres and scaring the pants of the audience.

I attended the current production of The Woman in Black at Newcastle’s Theatre Royal.  It starred Julian Forsyth as Mr Kipps and Antony Eden as The Actor. It was directed by Robin Herford and adapted for the stage by Stephen Mallatratt from the novel by Susan Hill.

It’s a safe bet to say that a large proportion of the audience thought they already knew the story because they’d seen the film.  So  I could tell that there would probably be some surprised and possibly disappointed people in the audience tonight, when they realised that the play wasn’t quite the same – no CGI flummery for a start.

The stage was bare, a wicker basket, a chair and a coat rack the only props.  A frock-coated man clutching a leather-bound ledger walks on set, removes his coat and then, in a timid and faltering voice begins his narrative….and so begins this tale of terror.

The Woman in Black stage production is very different from the recent cinematic version starring Daniel Radcliffe and a range of chilling CGI effects.  It is bare, stripped back to the story and the story-teller. An old lawyer approaches a young actor and asks him to help tell a spine tingling tale of terror.  Slowly the audience is drawn in, and the story takes over.

The first act was made up of Mr Kipps, the protagonist, interacting with the unnamed actor who intends to help him present his story to the world so that he can free himself of the nightmares that plague him.  The contrast of the very voluble and enthusiastic thesp’ countered with the very reserved and timid Mr Kipps provides a lot of comic elements and humour which I think surprised a lot of the audience.  But, in my mind,  this just makes the second act all the more terrifying and intense as the actor and lawyer become ever more intertwined in the events they describe.

A play performed by only two actors is a difficult thing to pull off, especially a ghost story which could so easily fall prey to parody.  In this performance both Antony Eden who plays the actor and then takes the role of the younger Mr Kipps; and Julian Forsyth the ‘real’ Mr Kipps who also plays all of the other parts  (Mr Daley, the landlord, the taciturn Keckrick) both gave utterly compelling performances.  It just goes to show that even in the age of CGI pyrotechnics and audience will willingly suspend disbelief when a story is told well.

And the Woman in Black herself? Well, she provided all of the expected scares and shrieks and nervous laughter from the audience with her sudden and ghastly appearances.  I have seen the play before, many years ago, and although I could not fault the actors in this production, the Woman in Black was not such a terrifying presence as in the first version I saw.

Perhaps this is because I have seen the play and the film, so some of the ‘scares’ were easily anticipated.  But I did come away feeling that her presence in the first act was of the slightly hammy/parody variety.  I felt that she appeared too soon, her presence was too obvious and some of the chills and scares of the half seen apparition of that first production, were absent.  The second half on the other hand, was another matter – there were some really effective scares in the second half.  But over all I think her presence could have been initially much more implied, more mysterious than the production allowed for.

All in all though, I would recommend that you see this play, it was well acted and did contain some genuinely chilling moments.  Besides that, there are so few ghost stories I can think of that you can see on the stage, and fewer still where the ghost is so much more than a mere cypher.

The Woman in Black is currently on at the Theatre Royal in Newcastle:
http://www.theatreroyal.co.uk/whats-on/the-woman-in-black-0

Chevalier d’Éon: Soldier, Spy and Transvestite

Tags

Chevalier d’Éon, cross dressing, eighteenth century, espionage, french history, history, LGBT, spy, transgender, transvestite

In June 2012 the National Gallery revealed its new acquisition.  Discovered by the London dealer, Philip Mould at a provincial sale in a suburb of New York, the painting had been mistakenly sold as a portrait of an unknown woman.  Philip Mould immediately recognised it as being a portrait of a man dressed in women’s clothing,

Chevalier d’Eon by Thomas Stewart, bought by the National Portrait Gallery.  Photograph: National Portrait Gallery, London

“Even in its dirty state it was clear that this woman had stubble…basically he was a bloke in a dress with a hat”

Whilst visiting the National Gallery the other day, I came across the painting by accident.  My friend glancing at it from a distance said “It is a woman?” Concentrating on the face I replied that I thought it was man or if not, a very unattractive woman, completely missing the low cut neckline and the hat with a large bow and feather. The name on the caption read “The Chevalier d’Éon”.  Although I have read quite a bit on pre-Revolution France, I couldn’t recall coming across a cross-dressing spy and it is not something that is easy to forget. The painting piqued my interest and as soon as I got home, I began to try to find out as much as I could about this Chevalier but my reading threw up more questions; was the Chevalier forced to wear women’s clothing? Was he transgender or transsexual? How did he manage to convince some of the leading figures of the 18^th century that he was in fact a woman?  The story of the Chevalier is stranger than fiction, a fascinating and confusing character who was brave enough to live life as he wanted and whether as a man or a woman was acclaimed by his peers as a person of exceptional courage and fortitude.

Early years

Charles-Geneviève-Louise-Auguste-Andrée-Timothée d’Éon de Beaumont was born on the 5 October 1728 in Tonnerre in Burgundy to a poor but noble family.  His name a mixture of male and female forenames bizarrely suggests that even his parents weren’t quite sure about the gender of their own child and wanted to hedge their bets! Later in his memoirs d’Éon revealed that his father’s determination to have a son at any cost resulted in him being raised as a boy, a subterfuge which his mother happily took part in. This version differs slightly from the explanation given to the French court when he claimed that his father was forced to raise him as a boy in order to receive an inheritance from his in-laws.

D’Éon apparently excelled at school and in 1743 moved to Paris to study canon and civil law at the College Mazarin.  His first posting on graduation at the age of 21 was as secretary to Bertier de Sauvigny.  Eventually his success and intelligence brought him to the attention of King Louis XV and his initiation into the “Secret du Roi”.

Maid of honour to the Empress of Russia

Catherine the Great, by Fyodor Rokotov [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

The Secret du Roi, Louis XV’s personal undercover organisation functioned outside the French government often working on assignments contrary to official policies and treatises.  Around 1756 D’Éon along with the Scottish Jacobite, Chevalier Douglas crossed the border into Russia.  The aim was to meet with Elizabeth, Empress of Russia to convince her to collaborate with them in their intrigues against the Habsburg monarchy. At the time Britain in an attempt to prevent an alliance between France and Russia only allowed French women and children to cross the border.  Although no actual documentation exists to support the theory it is widely believed that D’Éon disguised himself as a woman and calling himself Lea de Beaumont managed to sneak into Russia.  If it is true then he must have been a brilliant actor and fearless as if he had been caught by the French, British or Russians he would have faced execution.  Eventually in order to get as close to the Empress as he could, he arranged for himself to be chosen as one of her maids of honour.  It is hard to imagine how a man would have achieved this.  The Empress’s inner circle would have been fraught with intrigue and gossip and newcomers subject to intense scrutiny.  If the story is true it really could only have succeeded with the support of the Empress. Whatever really happened direct communication between the two countries was re-established, Douglas became the French Ambassador to Russia with D’Éon employed as his secretary.  A role he held from 1756 to 1760.

The Seven Years War

On his return to France, D’Éon was generously rewarded and granted a commission as Captain of the Dragoons. Famed for his bravery and acknowledged as one of the greatest swordsman of his time, D’Éon fought in the later stages of the Seven Years war and at the Battle of Villinghausen in July 1761.  He was wounded later that year at the Battle of Ulstrop.

In 1762 D’Éon was sent to London to negotiate and draft a peace treaty which would end the Seven Years War.  Eventually both the French and British agreed to the terms of the treaty, which was signed in Paris on the 10 February 1763.  In recognition of his service to the French state, D’Éon was awarded the Order of Saint-Louis which permitted him to be called the honorary title of “Chevalier”.

An exile in London

D’Éon stayed in London after the peace treaty had been signed, acting as interim ambassador after the Duc de Nivernais returned home.  Aside from his official duties he continued to act as a member of the Secret du Roi working with other agents to survey the British coastal defences and collect information for a possible invasion.

With the arrival of the new ambassador, the Comte de Guerchy, D’Éon found himself caught in the middle of the various French political factions.  Finding himself put in an impossible position and clearing feeling vulnerable and threatened, D’Éon refused to obey when he was recalled to France.  The British always happy to annoy the French, refused to extradite him.

Hostility between Guerchy and D’Éon reached breaking point when D’Éon in a letter to the Louis XV accused Guerchy of trying to poison him whilst he was dinning at Monmouth House in Soho Square.  In order to gain the upper hand D’Éon published a series of letters about his recall whilst threatening to go public with the letters pertaining to the planned invasion of Britain.  The French faced with the growing support of the British for D’Éon, a lawsuit for attempted murder and guaranteed war if the French invasion plans were revealed, recalled Guerchy and reinstated D’Éon’s pension.  D’Éon kept his papers as an insurance policy and continued to work as a spy, living his life as a political exile.

Life as a woman

By Pierre Adrien LE BEAUd’après Claude-Louis DESRAIS [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

It is unclear when exactly the rumours began that D’Éon was actually a woman.  It must have been sometime in the mid-1770s, shortly before his return to France in 1777.  Did he start the rumours, and if not, who did? Had he already started wearing women’s clothing? Was it a pragmatic move to allow him to return to France and effectively disempower him, removing him as a threat to the French state? Did he actual believe he was a woman? Was he desperately short of money? Whatever the truth,  in 1777 D’Éon had convinced the French government that he was a woman and was permitted by the new king, Louis XVI to return to France on one condition, issued as an edict (possibly the strangest edict ever written by a government)

“By order of the king: Charles-Geneviève-Louise-Auguste-Andrée-Timothée d’Éon de Beaumont is commanded to leave off the dragoon’s uniform which she is wearing, and to dress according to her sex.”

D’Éon agreed to the condition, now called the Chevalière, D’Éon must have been extremely happy when the state granted her funds for a new wardrobe!

Banished from the French court (maybe she was considered an embarrassment), D’Éon returned to Tonnerre, where she lived for six years.  With the start of the revolutionary movement, D’Éon’s property was confiscated and in 1785, she was allowed to return to England.

The Chevalier fencing By Charles Jean Robineau [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

For the next 25 years, D’Éon lived in Britain.  With the diplomatic service closed to her as a woman (D’Éon did write to the French National Assembly offering to lead a division of women soldiers against the Habsburgs) and her pension stopped, D’Éon was forced to give public displays of fencing to earn a living.  Wounded in a show in Southampton in 1796, D’Éon spent her last years living with a widow, Mrs Cole.  Landing in a debtor’s prison, she eventually died in poverty on the 21 May 1810 aged 82.

Contemporary attitudes

D’Éon has often been celebrated as the first open cross dresser accepted in British Society. Personally I think that this is quite a simplistic view. From around 1775, D’Éon encouraged the rumours that he was a woman, forced by his parents to dress and act as a man, “I was born with a caul…and my sex was hidden in nubibus”.

Although Britain was used to eccentricity in its aristocracy, the fact that D’Éon was French might have made the British more inclined to accept his story, as many considered the French a strange breed anyway. D’Éon whether as a woman acting as a man or as a woman fencer was seen as an oddity, a one off, the fact that men might want to be a woman or just enjoy wearing female clothes would, I personally think, have been seen as against the rules of nature, something that just could not be tolerated in society at that time.

D’Éon’s sexuality caused confusion amongst his contemporaries.  The playwright, Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais who wrote “The Marriage of Figaro” was so convinced that D’Éon was a woman that he helped him in his dealings with the French government.  Mary Robinson and Mary Wollstonecraft were also certain that D’Éon was a woman.  Wollstonecraft so much so that she included D’Éon in her Rights of Woman, calling her one of the exceptional woman along with the likes of Sappho and Macaulay, “who transcend the limitations of their gender”.  Even Mrs Cole with whom D’Éon lived with for a number of years never believed anything different.  D’Éon was considered a feminine woman, always hitching up her skirts when she went up and down stairs.

Not everyone was so convinced, James Boswell stated that “she appeared to me a man in woman’s clothes” whilst Horace Walpole on meeting D’Éon commented that she was loud and noisy “her hands and arms seem not to have participated of the change of sexes but are fitter to carry a chair than a fan”

Confusion was such that men started to a pool on the stock exchange with more than £200,000 bet.  The situation became so unstable that some of the English gamblers sued the court which led to the Chief Justice Lord Mansfield passing the verdict that D’Éon was a woman.

Final Verdict

In May 1810, a body lay on the autopsy table of the surgeon Thomas Copeland.  Around the table stood a number of men, possibly six or more.  Maybe some of them were the gamblers who had risked so much on the stock exchange or simply curious bystanders.  The final mystery was to be revealed, was D’Éon a man or a woman.  Carefully Copeland removed the layers of petticoats and undergarments.  The truth was there for them all to see, Copeland wrote

“I hereby certify that I have inspected and dissected the body of the Chevalier D’Éon…and have found the male organs in every respect perfectly formed.”

The D’Éon Legacy

D’Éon has left behind an interesting legacy. The word Eonism the tendency to adopt the costumes and manners of the opposite sex was derived from his name and his surname was adopted by the Beaumont Society, an organisation which was founded to support members of the transgender community.  A number of books have been written about him and he is often included in articles on gender studies.  There has even been a Japanese manga series called “The Chevalier D’Éon” which is set in the time of Louis XV and follows the lead character’s quest to find the murderer of his sister.  The twist is that whilst he is searching the soul of his sister, Lia, enters D’Éon’s body.  I would love to see the series but haven’t been able to get hold of a copy.

Whatever the truth behind the story of D’Éon, the fact is that he was a unique and brave individual who lived his life as he wanted.  From his portrait in the National Gallery he seems to stare sadly but kindly at the viewer, maybe the greatest lesson of D’Éon is simply “be true to yourself”.

References and further reading

Charles, chevalier d’Éon de Beaumont, http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/189379/Charles-chevalier-dEon-de-Beaumont
Man AND Woman: The Truly Peculiar World of Chevalier D’Éon, http://surviving-history.blogspot.co.uk/2011/03/man-and-woman-truly-peculiar-world-of.html
Portrait mistaken for 18th-century lady is early painting of transvestite, http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2012/jun/06/portrait-18th-century-early-transvestite
The Strange Career of the Chevalier D’Éon de Beaumont: Minister Plenipotentiary from France to Great Britain in 1763, John Buchan Telfer
The Chevalier D’Éon and His Worlds: Gender, Espionage and Politics in the Eighteenth Century, Simon Burrows
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, Mary Wollstonecraft

Mother Shipton: Yorkshire’s Nostradamus

Tags

English history, history, Knaresborough, Mother Shipton, Nostradamus, Petrifying Well, seventeenth century, tourism, witches, Yorkshire

Old Mother Shipton

I visited Knaresborough in Yorkshire on a family holiday when I was a teenager.  One of the things I remember most about the trip was a visit to Old Mother Shipton’s cave and the Dropping Well – famed for its petrifying properties (hang a teddy up and it will turn to stone in under five months).

The Dropping Well, Image by Chris (click image for copyright info)

For a start Old Mother Shipton looked like the archetypal witch, but more than that, she was credited with being Yorkshire’s answer to Nostradamus.  She was a prophetess and seer who had predicted everything from the death of Cardinal Wolsey, the great fire of London, the building of Crystal Palace, the Crimean War, the train, the car, the telephone – you name it Mother Shipton had prophesied it!  I was understandably impressed.

The legend is born

Sculpture of Mother Shipton in the cave where she was alleged to have been born. Image by Chris, click image for copyright info.

In 1488 Ursula Southeil was born out-of-wedlock to a fifteen year old girl called Agatha.  Agatha steadfastly refused to name the father of her child and sought refuge in the cave by the dropping well on the banks of the River Nidd, here she gave birth to the remarkably ugly Ursula.  Agatha either died in childbirth, or gave Ursula up for fostering when the child was two.  Because strange happenings followed the child, people began to suspect her father was non other than Old Nick himself.

Tales of objects moving around or going missing and furniture shifting about were common.  In one such tale, the foster-mother returns home to find baby Ursula gone, and a commotion in her cottage.  Upon entering, she and her companions are set upon by imps disguised as monkey’s.  Ursula is finally located swinging in her crib – up the chimney!

Ursula Southeil was noted for her startling appearance.  One early source describes her thus:

“She was of an indifferent height, but very morose and big boned, her head very long, with very great goggling but sharp and fiery eyes; her nose of an incredible and improportionable length, having in it many crooks and turnings, adorned with many strange pimples of divers colours, as red, blue and mix’t..”  (1)

When she married Toby Shipton at the age of 24, it was said she used a love potion to attract him (either that or else he just had very bad eyesight!).

Their home in Shipton soon became the focus for people seeking advice and her reputation for wisdom grew.  She was particularly good at locating lost or stolen property.

She is most famous for her prophecies, many of which came true during her life time.  She was also supposed to have predicted her own death, at the age of 73, in 1561.

A talent for prediction

Mother Shipton did not write down any of her prophecies.  As a poor woman in the sixteenth century the chances of her being able to write would have been slim – nevertheless her biographers credit her with a sharp intelligence and inborn ability to read from a very early age.

Mother Shipton and Cardinal Wolsey, image Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

Her fame grew beyond her locality when her prophecies were published in 1641.  ‘The Prophesie of Mother Shipton in the Raigne of King Henry the Eighth’ was printed in York and was composed of regional predictions and had only two prophetic verses, this version did not predict the end of the world (2).

A later version of her life and predictions ‘The Life and Death of Mother Shipton’ was published in 1684 by the unfortunately named Richard Head.  It is likely that he invented most of the biographical details about her.

A still later version published by Charles Hindley in 1862 contains the famous rhyming couplets relating to Crystal Palace, cars trains, and the famous end of the world prediction (1881):

“Carriages without horses shall go,
And accidents fill the world with woe.
Around the world thoughts shall fly
In the twinkling of an eye.
The world upside down shall be
And gold be found at the root of a tree.
Through hills man shall ride,
And no horse be at his side.
Under water men shall walk,
Shall ride, shall sleep, shall talk.
In the air men shall be seen,
In white, in black, in green;
Iron in the water shall float,
As easily as a wooden boat.
Gold shall be found and shown
In a land that’s now not known.
Fire and water shall wonders do,
England shall at last admit a foe.
The world to an end shall come,
In eighteen hundred and eighty one.”

Sir Henry buys a well

In 1630 Sir Henry Slingsby, a local grandee, purchased some land around the River Nidd from King Charles I.  The land contained the Dropping Well (now known as the Petrifying Well).  The enterprising Sir Henry, seeing the potential in such an extraordinary geological feature quickly constructed an exhibition and began running tours.

Could it be co-incidence that only 11 years after he begins this commercial venture, a book of prophecy linked with the well is published?  As Philip Coppens points out, having a famous prophetess linked to the miraculous well would be an added draw to reel in visitors.

Some believe that the well was feared and avoided by the locals during Mother Shipton’s life – supposedly believing that its petrifying properties would turn them to stone.  However, this does not seem to have been the case with everyone.  John Leyland, the Antiquary of Henry VIII visited the well during Mother Shipton’s lifetime – 1538.  He remarked that the well was known for its healing properties and was regularly visited.  He doesn’t seem to have mentioned Mother Shipton at all.  All of which would point to Mother Shipton being a fabrication to bring in paying visitors.

And tourists did come – even the famous female traveller Celia Fiennes visited the cave in 1697 and noted the following in her journal:

‘and this water as it runns and where it lyes in the hollows of the rocks does turn moss and wood into Stone …I took Moss my self from thence which is all crisp’d and perfect Stone … the whole rock is continually dropping with water besides the showering from the top which ever runns, and this is called the dropping well’(3).

The Truth behind the legend…

So what is the truth behind the legend?  Well, the historical evidence for the existence of Mother Shipton is as scarce as clear skin was on her nose.  This is not necessarily proof she didn’t exist, but if Leyland visited the well during her lifetime  and knew of the miraculous properties of the well, surely he would also have mentioned the presence of a noted seer so closely associated with it?

The links to the commercialisation of the well and the publication of the first prophecies are also suggestive of her tale being fabricated.  Also, as Philip Coppens points out: it is quite a common historical feature to associate oracles with wells, caves and other subterranean features.  Mother Shipton added a mythic dimension to the geological feature.

Mother Shipton working at her predictions, image public domain via Wikipedia Commons

There might even be a hint of intercontinental rivalry going on here as well – the French had Nostradamus, so maybe the English came up with Mother Shipton?  It is notable that after the repeal of laws relating to witchcraft in 1736 Mother Shipton’s image began to transform from the archetypal witch, to a more benign prophetess, depicted with scrolls instead of familiars, and much less warty about the nose.

As for the predictions – the earliest are from 80 years after her death, and relate mainly to events that have already happened.  The later versions seem to have embellished the prophecies.  Charles Hindley author of the 1862 version (extract quoted above) later admitted to inventing the predictions he published.

A Folk-memory of a cunning woman?

For hundreds of years (and well into the nineteenth century) the cunning woman or cunning man was an integral part of village life in England.  A local healer who could offer advice and assistance in the form charms and love potions.

I like to think that Mother Shipton falls into this category.  That she did exist in the capacity of a local cunning woman, and that a folk-memory of her endured until Sir Henry’s day allowing him to appropriate her for his own purposes. The facts and details of her life that have come down to us may be total fabrication and her prophecies have certainly been elaborated down the centuries, but I think that there is a tiny grain of truth in the tale of Mother Shipton which has fixed her in to the very fabric of folk-memory and the landscape itself.

The Cave and Well are open to the public, you can find details of how to arrange a visit on the Museum website:  http://www.mothershipton.co.uk/

River Nidd, Mother Shipton’s Museum just visible under the arches.

Notes

(1) Extract from ‘Yorkshire Legends and Traditions’ by Rev. Thomas Parkinson 1881, himself quoting from Richard Head’s 1684 account.
(2) Wikipedia/Mother Shipton
(3) Morris, Christopher (Ed), The Journeys of Celia Fiennes, Cresset Press, 1947.

Sources

http://www.ephemera-society.org.uk/articles/shipton.html
http://www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/occult/mother-shipton.html
http://www.philipcoppens.com/mother_shipton.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother_Shipton

Hikes, Hostels and the Old Hag…

Tags

Cumbria, Ghosts, Hauntings, hiking, Kirby Stephen Hostel, nightmares, sleep paralysis, The Old Hag, Wainwrights Coast to Coast

Just want to get this straight here, I’m NOT the hag mentioned in the title (I’ve got a few more years before that happens yet!) ;0)

I want to present to you, a very strange incident that happened to me a couple of years ago.  I’m still not quite sure what to make of it myself.

Anyone who knows me, knows that one of my greatest passions in life is hiking. Me and my hiking buddy, Bonnie, regularly do long distance treks in the UK: West Highland Way, Hadrian’s Wall path, Wainwright’s Coat to Coast….or should that be Wainwright’s Coast to GHOST……

It was in the spring of 2010 that Bonnie and I set out on the 200 mile trek across Britain, from St Bee’s in Cumbria to Robin Hoods Bay in Yorkshire.  We set out when the snow was thick on the ground, wading waist deep through snow at The Honister pass high in the Lake district; we passed through thick fog in the Pennines and we baked on the wide open Edges and Moors of Yorkshire.

Old map from Cumbria History website

It was at Kirby Stephen, about half way along the route,  that I had possibly the most frightening paranormal(?) experience I have ever know…we had walked the 20 or so miles from Shap to Kirby Stephen that day, and below are extracts from my journal which I kept at the time:

“We set off under lowering skies and struck out across a bleak landscape as we left Shap, passing by Chemical Works and Quarries and crossing our first big motorway.  Eventually we reached the moorlands and open fells.   We were soon baffled by our first Moorland and took a few unintended detours!

Looking back across the moors we could see Lakeland in the distance, it is sad that there is nothing coming up quite so dramatic, but not so sad to be leaving behind the steepest inclines and the snow and ice.

More fells and moors lay ahead of us, dun coloured and featureless under the grey skies – bleak but beautiful. We passed the lovely Smardale Bridge and the Grand aqueduct that spans the valley, before finally reaching Kirby Stephen our destination for the day.

We arrived at Kirby Stephen, with aching feet, by 4PM.  The hostel is an old converted Methodist chapel.  We ate dinner in the congregational Hall.  It is very cold and slightly creepy here – still we have an en-suite twin room for only £18 each – not to be sniffed at on this trip!  Pennines and Swaledale Tomorrow!!”

I should add here, that the hostel was beautiful – the congregational hall was all dark wood, with old Pews set up for the dining area, stained glass windows and a carved wooden balcony at one end, and underneath the balcony the kitchen area.  I seem to recall, that there were carved wooden angels tucked away in dark corners of the chapel, ready to catch you unaware!  It was a remarkable place to spend the night, and the hostel warden was very welcoming and gave us the Warden’s apartment to stay in (she did not live-in at the hostel – later I would wonder why).

The following day, i continued my journal:

“Falling asleep exhausted last night, listening to the rain beating on the windows, I had begun to wonder if the hostel was haunted. It had been sort of slowly giving me the creeps all evening.  The first thing that struck a jarring note was the old man.  There were only a few people staying in the hostel – and we know most of them because they are on the Coast to Coast route too.  But an old man was sitting in the shadows under the balcony last night, reading.  I greeted him, he nodded. I was distracted for a moment, when I looked back he was gone, but he hadn’t passed me by and I couldn’t see any other exits.

The warden’s rooms were in a separate part of the building from the dorms were everyone else was.  Apart from two girls we had met on the previous day’s hike who had the room down the hall, we were in a secluded part of the building away from the few other guests.

Last night I had the most terrifying dreams I have ever had, and some part of the experience occurred when I was awake – I am sure. 

The first part was that I felt that there was an evil presence in the en-suite (if it hadn’t been so scary I would have laughed), I went to see what it was.  I felt something pulling at my t-shirt, I ordered it to stop and a voice said quite clearly “Oh he usually brings a rose, and lays it across your teeth”  wierd!!

I then heard a loud banging like someone trying to gain access to the hostel and just as a voice said “Whatever you do, don’t let her in, she mustn’t come in” I woke myself up – I was absolutely bricking it – it felt like there was a really negative energy filling the room and the atmosphere was really oppressive. 

I felt like I didn’t want to move a muscle and I didn’t try,  I was convinced someone or something was trying to get in the room.  I said to Bonnie “Bonnie, lock the door!” because there was no way I was getting out of bed to do it.  I turned to look over to Bonnie’s bed on the other side of the room, I could hear her snoring and she was clearly deeply asleep.  As I looked over to her perhaps the most terrifying thing of all happened – she spoke – in a voice like tombstones. She said: “There is something in here with us.” I spent the rest of the night hiding under the duvet!’

No one else heard any kind of commotion during the night, and Bonnie had no recollection of speaking in her sleep although she did admit to having nightmares of her own that night.

So was the hostel haunted and where does the Old Hag come in to the story?

Well, for me, for a long while the jury was out.  There were logical explanations possible, after all, there was no evidence the old man was a ghost and he might have exited the congregational hall via an unseen exit.  The warden did not live in most likely because she was local, rather than because she was afraid of any supernatural phenomenon.  My dream was so vivid that I probably called out in my sleep before waking up and perhaps this triggered Bonnie’s doom-laden pronouncement.  In addition to this, I haven’t found any other references to this hostel being haunted or strange things happening in it.

At the same time…it was a really intense experience and it felt REAL.

It was then that a third option presented itself.  This came via a comment from  AngryScholar who is a folklorist (and horror aficionado) and has an excellent blog relating to these topics.  In response to a recent post by Miss Jessel he recommended a book on the old Hag tradition: ‘The Terror that Comes in the Night’ by David J Hufford, published by the American Folklore Society.  Being a compulsive purchaser of books I immediately ordered a copy and devoured it in a very short time.

In short, the Old Hag is a tradition common to Newfoundland, and relates to a kind of psychical attack where the victim awakes from sleep feeling either some kind of paralysis or that a heavy weight is pressing down on them preventing movement.  They feel intense fear and the phenomenon is often accompanied by the sound of footsteps approaching or the feeling of a malign presence which sometimes has a visual manifestation.

Those familiar with the traditions also often know of methods to dispel the attack or turn it against the instigator of the experience.  Huffords excellent study takes the phenomenon outside of Newfoundland area  to disprove the cultural source hypothesis – ie if you know about the custom you may have this kind of experience – his work showed that the experience was cross-cultural and did not depend on prior knowledge of the tradition.

Hufford interviewed a large number of people who had had similar experiences but who had no knowledge of the tradition.  In conducting his study he found a number of common features of the experience some of which match the experience that I had.  He estimated that the phenomenon is so common that up to 15% of the population could have had a similar experience but that their willingness to disclose or withhold information relating to it can be determined by the culture they come from – in other words will they be met with ridicule or thought to be suffering from some kind of mental illness?

He considered that some of the experience related to the hypnagogic or hypnapompic state of sleep, hypnagogic is the “period immediately preceeding sleep” while “the time from the termination of measurable sleep to genuine wakefulness is called the ‘hypnopompic’ period” (1) and notes that these phases of sleep were at the time of his writing, relatively unexplored.

After extensive examination of case studies Hufford applied the term ‘Sleep paralysis with hypnagogic hallucinations’ as a close approximation of the Old Hag  phenomenon.

This is a very brief outline of Hufford’s very detailed study, but I think there were some similarities between what I experienced and some of the cases he examined….and who knows – strange things can occur in that twilight state that is not quite sleep and not quite wakefulness.  A place, even in our modern technological world,  where normal rules of reality do not apply and where the hag may still walk by night….

References

Hufford J David, The Terror that Comes in the Night, 1982, University of Pennsylvania Press.

Kirby Stephen Independent Youth Hostel, http://www.kirkbystephenhostel.co.uk/accommodation/

Wicked Jimmy Lowther: The Toadstool Earl

Tags

Earl of Lonsdale, eighteenth century, english aristocrats, English Ghosts, English history, history, Lowther Castle, Toadstool Earl, Wicked Jimmy

Vincent Price, from Tales of Terror (Dir.Roger Corman 1962)

When I first found out about  Wicked Jimmy, otherwise known as Sir James Lower 1st Earl of Lonsdale (1736 – 1802), my imagination ran wild with visions of Lon Chaney or Vincent Price skulking around in cobwebbed castles and dank dungeons getting up to suitably nefarious deeds.   A little digging and I came up with more equally intriguing nick-names: Jemmy Grasp-all, The Gloomy Earl and  most delicious of all The Toadstool Earl – just who was this man, and why did he end up with so many unflattering sobriquets?

Well, James Lowther was a very, very, very rich man.  He inherited not one, not two, but THREE fortunes making him one of the Georgian era’s wealthiest individuals.  One of his fortunes alone (Coal mines, harbour trade, and lots of lovely money) came to a quarter of annual British Exports at the time(1).

Sir James Lowther, by Thomas Hudson (Wordsworth Collection)

Despite being born with the proverbial silver spoon, it seems he may not have enjoyed a happy childhood.  His first fortune was inherited from his father who died when James was only 9 years old.  John Sharpe a Local Historian believes that his widowed mother pushed him into becoming ruthlessly ambitious – it would seem that Pushy Parents aren’t a new phenomena.

Sent away to boarding school he found himself the target for bullies – English Public Schools at the time could be brutal places. Nevertheless he soon graduated to the top of the pecking order and became a bully himself – a characteristic he seemed to have maintained all of his life.

How the Earl got his Ninepins

Despite his great wealth, Sir James’s lust for power set him on the path of politics.  Politics in the eighteenth century was a shady business and Sir James seems to have had a natural flare for political skullduggery.  He entered politics in 1757 in Cumberland, and soon proved adept at rigging elections and controlling boroughs.  He also seems to have been good at spotting talent because he helped William Pitt the Younger to enter politics in the 1781 as MP for Appleby.  Pitt then had a stellar political career and became Prime Minister at only 24 years of age.   The Earl received lucrative kick-backs a plenty from his grateful prodigy including the Earldom of Lonsdale.

Chairing the Member, by William Hogarth [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

The Gloomy Earl ended up controlling 9 Parliamentary Boroughs in the North West of England and they became known as his ninepins.

The Toadstool Earl and the Mushroom Election

Wicked Jimmy was a name that seems to have attached to the Earl after his death, however The Earl of Toadstool was a name he picked up during his lifetime.  The Earl decided to win the Carlisle seat for one of his relatives and to do so he manipulated the electorate by creating 1400 honorary freemen to vote in the election.  The new freemen were made up of men who were subservient to the Earl – his tenants and workers – and could be relied upon to vote as directed.  The election of 1786 became infamous as the ‘Mushroom election’ because of its mushrooming electorate.

Jemmy Grasp-All

It can often be observed that rich people stay rich by not spending their money – and the Earl was noted for being a fabulously wealthy skinflint.  Unfortunately, one other way the rich stay so rich is by exploiting the masses and Sir James not only exploited his dependents in elections, but he also exploited them in the workplace.  He was a mine owner and his lack of investment in making his mines at Whitehaven safe cost the lives of both workers and pit-ponies in 1791.

He also ensured that the Poet William Wordsworth grew up in poverty.  Wordsworth’s father was agent to The Earl and he died in 1783 with the Earl owing him £5000 (a huge sum in the eighteenth century).

Madman, too influential to be confined(2)

Despite being known as the Gloomy Earl, he was also a fiery character and was not averse to riding 300 miles between Lowther and London and covering the distance in only 36 hours.  He was also a bit of a speed freak and was notorious for driving at break-neck speed – regardless of whether he was passing through a village or not.  I can’t imagine that he was popular in the locality.

Lowther Castle by Simon Ledingham, via Wikimedia Commons (click image for licence info)

The Earl was also fond of a good duel and in 1792 he and a Captain Cuthbertson seem to have had an early Road Rage incident which resulted loud words followed by pistols at dawn to satisfy honour.

Wicked Jimmy and a love that will last for ever….

Wicked Jimmy was a noted ladies man, just because he married the daughter of the Earl of Bute in 1761 didn’t mean he wouldn’t continue to keep mistresses.  Such behaviour was hardly unusual amongst eighteenth century noblemen, and plenty of aristocratic women also took lovers as well (although if they got caught in the act the consequences were far harsher than for the men).

By Józef Simmler [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

One of the more lurid stories that has attached itself to the Earl relates to the beautiful daughter of a tenant whom he seduced.  Legend has it that the girl became his mistress and he kept her in great luxury.  However the girl died young and the Earl was so distracted by grief that he refused to admit she was dead.  When the servants complained about the smell, he is said to have dressed her corpse himself and often dined with her decaying body seated next to him.  Eventually he is said to have had her placed her in a glass coffin. She was finally laid to rest 7 weeks after her death.

If this is true then one can only imagine what the girl’s family must have felt.

Ernest Jones, writing in 1931 in ‘On the Nightmare’ said that such necrophiliac behaviour was rooted in the idea that:

“The dead person who loves, will love forever and will never be weary  of giving and receiving caresses.”

If this story is true, then perhaps at least some of the Earls bluster and bullying was a front for his own lack of self-esteem (he was, after-all,  bullied as a child) or perhaps it was a consequence of the early loss of his father making him unable to cope with separation from someone he loved.  Or perhaps he just couldn’t bare the thought that one of his ‘possessions’ had eluded him by dying.

Whatever the truth behind this very Gothic story, it certainly adds a very macabre twist to the legend of Wicked Jimmy Lowther.

The Earl died on 24 May 1802, and it is said that on the anniversary of his burial, if the moon is full, his spectre can be seen driving his carriage at break-neck speed through the grounds of Lowther Castle.

Lowther Castle is open to the public:
http://www.lowther.co.uk/index.php/visiting-lowther

Notes

1. http://www.lowther.co.uk/index.php/the-lowther-family/the-lowther-family
2. Carlyle, Alexander

Sources

http://www.lowther.co.uk/index.php/the-lowther-family/the-lowther-family
Sharpe, John, 2013, http://www.cwherald.com/archive/archive/%26%238220%3Bwicked-jimmy%26%238221%3B,-1st-earl-of-lonsdale-20130306405026.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Lowther,_1st_Earl_of_Lonsdale

Guilty Pleasures: Whitby Goth Weekend

Tags

Goth, Guilty Pleasures, Steam punk, Whitby, Whitby Goth Weekend

This gallery contains 25 photos.

Whitby Goth Weekend runs twice a year and is the brainchild of Jo Hampshire, this year the first weekend ran …

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