Halloween Podcasts – out soon!!

Tags

collaboration, Creepy stories, folklore, Halloween special, haunted houses, Newcastle, North Tyneside, Podcast, Social History, Wallsend, witch trials

Here at The Haunted Palace Blog, Halloween is our favourite time of year and this year we’ve been busier than ever!

As well as our usual super spooky Halloween post, we have not one, but two podcast collaborations coming up for Halloween!

In the summer, Lenora was lucky enough to be invited onto The Newcastle Witches Podcast to record their Halloween Special. The Newcastle Witches podcast examines the Newcastle Witch Trials of 1649-50, in which 14 innocent women and 1 man lost their lives. In each episode Maria and Caitlin talk to the experts on different aspects the witch trials, seventeenth century belief in witchcraft and magic, and the political and social situation in seventeenth century Newcastle. Each episode is dedicated to one of the victims of the trials. For their Halloween Special they asked Lenora to share the folktale of the Wallsend Witches and consider whether it is linked to a real-life alleged witch in Wallsend.

Look out for updates on release date on Instagram at @newcastle_witches_podcast and @lenora_hautnedpalaceblog the episode will be available from Anchor FM The Newcastle Witches Podcast, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Lenora was also delighted to be invited back to the Voices from the North-East Podcast for one of their two Halloween Specials. Voices from the North-East is a social history podcast that is doing amazing work to preserve memories of growing up in the North-East of England, so much so many of their episodes are being preserved in the Northumberland Archives. Last year Lenora chatted with Paul about the Wallsend Witches and the Alnwick Vampire, this year Lenora will be talking about the Willington Mill Haunting, in a podcast that will run alongside our Halloween blog post.

Look out for updates on release date on Instagram at @voicesfromthenortheast and @lenora_hautnedpalaceblog the episode will be available from Anchor FM Voices from the North East Podcast, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Coming soon – The Haunting of Willington Mill

Ghost Hunting with Ghost North East

Tags

Emma Peel, England, FOG, g.h.o.s.t, ghost hunters, Ghost hunting, ghost north east, Ghosts, haunted, haunted castles, haunted houses, Hauntings, North East, ouija board, paranormal investigation, paranormal investigators, scottish borders, SMOG, Steve Watson

Spencer from S.M.O.G (Scientific Measurement of Ghost) Avengers, The Living Dead, 1967.

When I think of the Avengers, I don’t think of the Marvel superheroes, I think of John Steed and Mrs Peel.  The Mrs Peel series’ were rerun when I was a child and I loved the quirky humour and the eccentric and often surreal storylines.  One of my favourite episodes was The Living Dead, from the 1967 series.   In this episode Steed and Mrs Peel investigate strange happenings at the estate of the Duke of Benedict, including ghostly goings on in a creepy old church.  Here they cross paths with rival ghost hunting factions FOG and SMOG (respectively, Friends of Ghosts and Scientific Measurements of Ghosts).  The over the top characters of Mandy from FOG and Spencer from SMOG perfectly highlight the divide still often found in the ghost hunting community – between the psychic believers and the sceptical scientific types.  To be honest, I’ve never been quite sure which camp I fit into.

In recent years I have been on several ghost hunts operated by various different groups. It’s fair to say that some were more FOG than SMOG and some clearly geared up primarily for entertainment. Nevertheless I enjoyed each one, and some were at truly excellent locations, with compelling and charismatic guides – Chillingham Castle springs to mind (it’s an experience not to be missed for sheer drama of location and the ghostly tradition attached to the castle).  However, one thing that I have often felt lacking on some of the more commercial tours, is the element of investigation – I guess I’ve always had a secret affinity with Spencer from SMOG, despite the allure of FOG.  Ultimately, what I was really looking for was a group that could accommodate both viewpoints.

Chillingham Castle, Northumberland.

I came across Ghost North East by chance, a local not for profit group who investigate locations in the North East of England and the Scottish borders.  Ghost Northeast was founded just under 10 years ago by friends Steve Watson and David Howland.  In Steve’s book The Chronicles of a Ghosthunter he explained:

“..we decided we should open our own group. We wanted it to be 100% genuine and 100% honest.  If nothing happened, then nothing happened.  But, if we did see, feel or hear things then we knew as far as we were concerned that the activity would be real”

They and their team now run regular ghost hunts throughout the North East of England and Scottish Borders, taking in haunted locations such as Jarrow Hall, Ellison Hall, Hexham Old Jail, Jedburgh Jail and Neidpath Castle.

The Ghost Hunter kit

Ghost hunters kit.

The group don’t use mediums or psychics, but do use psychic tools such as the Ouija/spirit board, planchet and dowsing rods.  These methods sit alongside more scientific tools such as lasers, thermal imaging devices, EMF and K2 meters (for detecting electromagnetic fields -such as given off by ordinary electrical devices or, more interestingly, unexplained sources) and the Franks/Ghost box.

The latter is a device which is a somewhat controversial in ghost hunting circles.  The Franks box works by rapidly scanning radio waves for anomalous phenomena.  The device is familiar to many people through its use on popular TV series such as Zac Baggins Ghost Adventures.  While some people believe that it can facilitate communication with spirits, others dismiss its effectiveness citing the credulousness of over eager ghost hunters in attributing random results as being of paranormal origin [1]. My own view is that although it can bring up some interesting results, it would be hard to confirm they were of paranormal origin rather than just wishful thinking.

Ghost North East make the whole ghost hunter kit available to everyone at each location, and ‘ghosties’ are encouraged to be very hands on. Whether their preference is for the scientific or psychic tools, everyone gets to play with the kit and draw their own conclusions from the results.

Three Ghost Hunts:

1. On a dark November night – Newcastle’s Literary and Philosophical Society. 

The Lit & Phil, as it is affectionately known, is the largest independent library outside of London, and the oldest in Newcastle.  The current building, dating to 1825, is located near the oldest parts of Newcastle (the Close) and Roman foundations can be found in the basement.

The Lit & Phil, Newcastle.

This was my first ghost hunt with the group, and the first thing I discovered was that many people attending were regulars, despite this, everyone was very welcoming and friendly.  Steve Watson the founder of the group welcomed everyone and set out the housekeeping and the ground rules – in short, to respect that everyone has their own equally valid views on the supernatural.  I was impressed by how accommodating the group where to those with mobility issues, although the locations often don’t lend themselves to full disabled access,  the group are happy to cater for the less mobile.

Steve then took the whole group down to the Gentleman’s Library and held a circle and conducted a blessing – in the pitch dark.  Standing in the musty darkness, surrounded by ancient tomes from floor to ceiling, with only the rhythmic ticking of an old clock puncturing the silence, he called out to the spirits and the K2 meter lit up….from that moment, I was hooked.

We were then split up into three separate groups to conduct investigations in different parts of the building (around 8 people max).  Smaller groups made it a much more hands on experience, and we all had a case of equipment to play with, from Lasers, Franks Boxes, EVF meters to dowsing rods and dice.  I was in Peter’s group and we began in ‘the stacks’ – a book store in the basement where they store books and manuscripts, it is a very eerie place, filled with looming shadows and priceless volumes.  A number of people in the group said they felt a quite malevolent male presence down there. I can’t say that I did, however, I’m not sure I would have been willing to stay down there alone even with all those fabulous books (and I don’t scare easily).

Lit & Phil Main Library. Newcastle.

Later in the night, my group went into the main library and tried to communicate with spirits via the Franks Box.  During this experiment I took up the offer to do a ‘Lone Vigil’ in the ladies waiting room, in the pitch black, with only an EVF meter for company!  Not being shy I sat in the middle of the sofa and asked if any spirits would like to come and sit next to me, having previously checked for any reaction on the EVF and getting none.  However, once I made the invitation and rescanned the sofa, the box reacted in a very definite manner.  I withhold judgement on whether a ghost actually did accept my invitation to join me on the sofa, but the timing was most interesting….

Perhaps the most powerful part of the night occurred in the Music Room, where the groups rejoined and formed a circle while the Gnostic Mass was played.  This is a very strange piece of music and whether the music, the darkness or supernatural forces were at play, several people were overcome and had to leave the room…the music player also jumped unexpectedly to particular song, one with significance to one of the Lit & Phil’s early patrons.

By the end of the night, while many of the phenomenon could clearly be explained away, nevertheless, various interesting pieces of information came to light that could be linked to the historical record. I’m giving away no spoilers though!

2. On a frosty January night – Gateshead’s Little Theatre

The Little Theatre Gateshead, is a remarkable building, the current theatre was opened in Autumn 1943 and was the only theatre to be built during World War II. It sits on the corner of Saltwell Road, and faces onto the beautiful Saltwell Park.

The Little Theatre Gateshead.

The theatre is home to the Progressive Players, whose founding members, Misses Hope, Ruth and Sylvia Dodds, helped to fund the building work in the 1930’s.  However, things did not go smoothly and upon the outbreak of war, the empty house purchased for the theatre was requisitioned for a RAF Barrage Balloon station.  The players only got the site back on New Years Day 1942, when the RAF decamped following a particularly harsh winter.  The theatre also suffered from collateral bomb damage on a misty night in early 1943, when a German bomb hit Saltwell Park just across the street from the theatre.  Windows were blown out, the doors damaged and a tree fell through the roof.  No one appears to have been hurt or killed.[2]

All in all, a promising location for not only theatrical ghosts, but perhaps some wartime spectres as well.

After our orientation and the group circle, which Steve conducted on the stage, we split into our groups.  Unable to help myself, I, yet again, volunteered to do a lone vigil.  I was conducted down a maze of corridors to one of the dressing rooms, and here I waited in the dark, calling out occasionally.  Unfortunately there was no activity that I could discern, and the evening as a whole appeared quite quiet, with little activity on the planchet or otherwise.  However, some other groups did report activity and one individual did become noticeably affected during an invocation on the stage. Despite the lack of activity on this occasion, it was a wonderfully atmospheric venue.

The Planchet in use, but no messages this time.

3. On a snowy March night, Jarrow Hall

My third, and most recent outing with Ghost North East, was at Jarrow Hall.  I have to say it was my favourite venue, perhaps that is because the Hall itself is eighteenth century (and I’m a sucker for the Georgians). The falling snow made it even more atmospheric – the North East was in the grip of the mini Beast from the East that night, just getting to the venue was an adventure.  Jarrow Hall is closely associated with the Venerable Bede (considered the ‘Father of English history’) and linked to the Anglo-Saxon monasteries of Wearmouth and Jarrow.  It houses a lot of Anglo-Saxon artifacts in the museum, and a reconstruction of an atrium style house of the period.

Jarrow Hall by night. Jarrow.

Now, I firmly believe that most paranormal phenomena can be explained rationally, however…..during the group circle that took place at the foot of the staircase, I kept getting the impression of someone peaking round the banisters at the top of the stairs….I’m not sure if it was just peripheral vision going scatty but I was not the only one who felt this.

‘I met a man upon the stair, I met a man who wasn’t there’….Jarrow Hall Stairs.

There were some very interesting results from the dowsing rods in the museum (linking up with the Anglo-Saxon history of the location). Beyond that, the most active part of the Hall was the back stairs, where some quite extraordinary activity unfolded.  I was with two others using the Ouija board, while another member of the team was seated on the stairs (around the corner and out of the line of sight of the board).  As we asked questions and the glass moved around the board, the information was conveyed almost simultaneously by the person on the stairs, who was convinced that a spirit was communicating directly with them.  A tragic tale was soon pieced together, and culminated with the board spelling out a song title, as the person on the stairs began to sing the same song.

There were some contradictions brought up by the board, and some elements of the information that did not add up, however the overall story that unfolded could be linked to the historical record – as far as could be ascertained. This phenomena could be explained in several ways, from auto-suggestion, telepathy or pure coincidence, whatever the explanation, being a part of the experience was extraordinary (and I can say for certain that I didn’t know the story and I definitely wasn’t pushing the glass!)

The Ghost Hunter

Emma Peel and Mandy from F.O.G (Friends of Ghosts). The Avengers, The Living Dead, 1967.

It’s fair to say that people want different things from ghost hunts, for some people it is pure entertainment – and any creak or strange noise is enough to send them off into paroxysm of fearful giggles, others may want a more spiritual experience – to connect with a supernatural that they firmly believe in, others may prefer a purely rational or sceptical approach.  I have to say, that to my mind, a good ghost hunting group can accommodate all viewpoints and belief systems.

In short, I would say that whether you are Mandy from Friends of Ghosts or Spencer from Scientific Measurements of Ghosts a ghost hunt with Ghost North East will not disappoint.

For those who are interested in reading more about the investigations, full investigation reports are published by Ghost North East in their magazine.

Ouija board, and EMF readers, a mix of the scientific and the spiritual.

Sources and notes

All images by Lenora unless otherwise stated.

https://paranormalwarehouse.com/franks-box-ghost-box/ [1]

Watson, Steve, Ghostnortheast volume 1: The Chronicles of a Ghost Hunter, 2017

http://www.ghostnortheast.co.uk/

http://www.litandphil.org.uk/

http://www.littletheatregateshead.co.uk/history.html [2]

https://www.jarrowhall.org.uk/

 

The Grave Humour of the Georgians

Tags

automaton, Catherine Tylney-Long, Colonel Luttrell, dark humour, death, eighteenth century, gallows humour, Georgian, haunted houses, history, John Joseph Merlin, Lord Tylney, morbid, Mrs Delany, Wanstead House, William Pendarvis

It is well-known that the Victorians had a love of all things macabre and death-related: from elaborate funerals to Memento Mori – in the nineteenth century death was in vogue. However, their eighteenth century ancestors, the Georgians, despite being less obviously morbid, certainly knew how to get a kick out of death when the mood suited them.  As Autumn is now upon us, and Halloween fast approaches, a little bit of Georgian ghoulishness may suffice to whet the appetite!

Laughing at death

Scapini Tarot, Image from SheWalksSoftly website.

The tendency for some humans to laugh at death has been likened to a kind of instinctive cognitive behavioural strategy – it allows individuals to face what they fear most, such as their own inevitable demise, whilst offering them the catharsis of laughter [1]. In the past, when death was such a visible part of most people’s lives, a bit of dark humour might help cut death down to size- to tame it a little. Of course, the terrors of the grave could also offer up a damn good scare. In the eighteenth century, the newly emergent Gothic novel found a ready audience of people who revelled in its dark aesthetic. Science and technology also offered opportunities for experiencing horror first hand in the forms of mechanical automatons and the immersive horror offered by magic lantern phantasmagoria shows. In short the Georgian’s were some of the first horror fans.

The following anecdotes have been shamelessly plundered from Julian Litten’s erudite and engrossing book on all things funereal: The English Way of Death: The Common Funeral since 1450.

An invitation to drinks with Sir William Pendarvis

For every thrill seeking eighteenth century libertine, there was an equal and opposite moralist, ready to offer their censure of decadent or immoral behaviour – whilst still relishing the details.

Mrs Delany, strong on piety and moral improvement, related the following tale of death-based debauchery, which occurred in about 1720:

“Sir William Pendarvis’s house was the rendezvous of a very immoral set of men. One of his strange exploits among other frolics, was having a coffin made of copper (which one of his mines had that year produced), and placed in the great hall, and instead of his making use of it as a monitor that might have made him ashamed and terrified at his past life, and induce him to make amends in future, it was filled with punch, and he and his comrades soon made themselves in capable of any sort of reflection; this was often repeated, and hurried him on to that awful moment he had so much reason to dread.”

This early eighteenth century baronet would seem to be no different from many of his dissolute peers, such as the irreligious Philip Wharton of Hell-fire infamy, but perhaps a kinder parallel exists with the irascible Squire Weston of Fielding’s novel, Tom Jones. Mrs Delaney had personal experience of the hard-drinking Pendarvis clan, she had been married at seventeen to sixty year old Alexander Pendarvis, so she clearly had good reason to be unimpressed by Sir William’s antics. But perhaps at the end of the day, Pendarvis was just another of the species of the carousing and bibulous English squire – albeit with a dark sense of humour – no doubt a dreadful husband but probably a great drinking buddy.

I wonder if he was buried in his punch bowl coffin?

‘Mine’s a double!’. Image by Thomas Bewick. British Museum Collection.

Colonel Luttrell’s death masque(rade)

On 6 February 1771 Mrs Cornely held a Masquerade at the Pantheon in London. Such gatherings were popular in the eighteenth century and one could expect to see the usual throng of merrymakers dressed as harlequins, monks and medieval princesses, eager to party the night away. However, one guest, Colonel Luttrell, took things a little too far and his costume somewhat killed the atmosphere. RS Kirby, who witnessed the debacle, related that Luttrell cast such ‘a pall of gloom’ over the other guests that he had to leave almost as soon as he got there. And the reason for this downturn in the festivities…he had come dressed as a coffin!

Remarkable characters at Mrs. Cornely’s masquerade, 1771. British Museum Collection.

Satan-Machines and the human condition

Before elaborating on the third tale of ghastly Georgian humour, in which Lord Tylney alarmed his guests with a gruesome garden ghoul, some preamble may be justified.

Philosophers have argued what it is that makes us human since time immemorial. In the seventeenth century Rene Descartes, in his Passions of the Soul and The Description of the Human Body,  argued that humans and animals were basically automatons, humans distinguished only by their ability to reason. It was natural then, for life-like mechanical automatons to become part of that debate, similar today’s philosophical debates concerning when and if artificial intelligence might achieve sentience. Jessica Riskin, in her essay Machines in the Garden shows that far from viewing these human-machines as soulless – as we often do now – in the past they were often seen as capable of acting unexpectedly, playfully, wilfully and responsively. [2] This certainly comes across in Lord Tylney’s extraordinary display (described in the next section) with a choreographed event involving interaction between the living participants and the automatons.

Millennium Clock, Museum of Scotland. Photo by Lenora

What may seem unusual is that Tylney’s spectacle was so viscerally frightening. The most famous automatons, such as the exquisite silver swan at Bowes Museum or the dainty little keyboard player beloved of Marie Antoinette, may be slightly uncanny, but they are intended to be objects of beauty not fear. Nevertheless, historically, it was not unusual for automatons to be of a more menacing form. For many years the Catholic Church had been using mechanical and hydraulic automata as part of their clocks and organs to illustrate religious themes. But they had also been using automata to scare the devil out of their congregations with much more gruesome automatons – a famous example being the Sforza Devil.

The Devil of SforzaThe Devil of Sforza by G.dallorto (Own work) [Attribution], via Wikimedia Commons

Many of these ‘Satan-machines’ had a pretty dramatic repertoire – wild rolling eyes, demonic expressions, chomping jaws, flapping wings and arms. Evan a tiny monk, created in 1560 by Juanelo Turriano, and now in the Smithsonian, that marched about offering benedictions in a rather sinister manner. Clearly these machines were intended primarily for the spiritual and religious improvement of the congregation, but Riskin also points to plenty of instances where their antics caused amusement [3]. Of course, they were also good for business, drawing crowds of the curious and the faithful.

While the church used automatons in their mission to save their congregations souls, those who could afford to, used automatons for entertainment. Many princes of the church, royalty and noble families in Europe used hydraulic machines to create jump scares and booby traps for unsuspecting guests – water spouts could be triggered to drench guests and mechanical humans, animals, and dragons lurked about gardens and in grottoes to delight and amaze onlookers.

Lord Tylney’s Clockwork Cadaver

Perhaps the most interesting of Litten’s anecdotes occurred in at the fabled and ill-fated Wanstead House, Redbridge, London.

Wanstead House in the 1780’s. Collection of the British Museum.

Wanstead House is most famous as the home of the beautiful and tragic Catherine Tylney Long, whose sad spectre is said to still haunt the grounds of the park. In 1768, long before the lovely Catherine met her tragic end, it was the setting of a spectacular or should that be spooktacular *sighs* practical joke that would be the envy of many modern haunted houses.

The following account is from the pen of an Italian Noblewoman, a guest at Wanstead and witness to the macabre piece of immersive theatre orchestrated by John, 2nd Earl Tylney (1712-84):

“Many lights appear in the trees and on the water. We are off and have great excitement fishing up treasure… tied to bladders. His Lordship is hailed from the shore by a knight, who we are told is King Arthur, have you the sacrifice my Lord, who answers no, then take my sword and smite the water in front of the grot and see what my wizard has done, take also this dove and when asked, give it to the keeper. Off again to some distance from the grotto, the lights are small and the water still, the giant eagle appears and asks, have you the sacrifice, no my Lord answers, so be it and disappears in steam.

His Lordship smites the water with King Arthur’s sword, all the company are still, a rumble sucking noise comes in front of the opening of the grotto the water as if boiling and to the horror of all the company as though from the depth of hell arose a ghastly coffin covered with slime and other things.

Silence as though relief, when suddenly with a creaking and ghostly groaning the lid slid as if off and up sat a terrible apparition with outstretched hand screeching in a hollow voice, give me my gift, with such violence, that some of the company fell into the water and had to be saved and those on the shore scrambled in always confusion was everywhere. We almost fainted with fright and was only stayed from the same fate by the hand of his Lordship, who handed the keeper the dove the keeper shut its hand and with a gurgling noise vanished with a clang of its lid, and all went pitch. Then the roof of the grotto glowed two times lighting the water and the company a little, nothing was to be seen of the keeper or his coffin, as though it did not happen. [sic!]” [4]

A Phantasmagoria; Conjuring-up an Armed Skeleton.1803 James Gillray

His Lordship may have been intending that some beautiful creature would swoon into his arms at the dramatic events, but he may have been a little disappointed that it was the lady in question – as Lord Tylney was not that way inclined.

Litten credits Lord Tylney with the concept for the event. Perhaps he had been influenced by the ghoulish phantasmagoria shows so popular at the time or automatons on display in noble houses and gardens both in England and on the continent. He certainly spent much of his life living in Italy where there were they had been popular for centuries.

But who was the macabre mechanic who breathed life into the drama? Litten looks to clues in the tableau to find the author of the mechanical pyrotechnics. The King Arthur motif would seem to be significant, as are the words ’see what my wizard has done’. Merlin was Arthur’s wizard, could this also be a covert reference to the extraordinary talents of John Joseph Merlin, famed for his exquisite automata such as the silver swan at Bowes Museum in Co. Durham. The eccentric inventor had arrived in England in 1760 and quickly made a reputation for himself (and not just for automata, Merlin had a penchant for cross-dressing and was a keen, if not always proficient, roller-skater). In the small world of the London elite, it is not unlikely that Tylney crossed paths with the brilliant John Joseph Merlin. Especially as Merlin’s penchant for cross-dressing may have appealed to Lord Tylney who is believed to have been homosexual. Merlin would certainly seem an ideal candidate for executing such an elaborate and memorable spectacle – although it is unlikely we will ever know for sure.

Tylney’s macabre drama draws on a long tradition of using automatons to scare and to entertain, but he also draws on elements of cutting edge contemporary culture with his emphasis on the Gothic with its predilection for knights and ghouls and good old jump scares. His guests had the opportunity for a good (safe) scare and a drenching if they weren’t too careful!

Saved from the flames

It is interesting to note that Julian Litten was given this tantalising titbit of Georgian horror by one Stuart Campbell-Adams, who explained that it was nearly lost in the mists of time. In a suitably gothic twist, this vignette of eighteenth century ghoulishness was amongst Tylney family papers intended to be consigned to the flames following the dissolution of Wanstead House. Only the quick thinking of either a maid or female relation of Catherine Tylney-Long saved them from destruction. Whoever the lady was, she clearly had a wicked sense of humour!

Sources and notes

Litten, Julian, ‘The English Way of Death The Common Funeral Since 1450’ Robert Hale, 1992 [4]
Riskin, Jessica, ‘Machines in the garden’ at-http://arcade.stanford.edu/sites/default/files/article_pdfs/roflv01i02_03riskin_comp3_083010_JM_0.pdf [2] [3]
It’s Good to be Bad: The psychological benefit of dark humour’ by Meg, 2014) at – http://megsanity.com/article.asp?post=14 [1]

Screaming Skulls – folklore, fact and fiction

Tags

Ambrose Barlow, Anne Griffiths, apotropaic, Apotropaic tradition, Bettiscombe Manor, British folklore, Burton Agnes Hall, celtic, Celts, Dickie, English folklore, english stately homes, Ghosts, Guardian Spirits, haunted houses, haunted objects, Hauntings, Head Cults, mememto mori, Owd Nance, Pinney, Screaming skulls, Wardely Hall

Screaming Skulls – a very British Tradition

Screaming Skull, 1958, director Alex Nicol. Wikimedia

Tales of screaming skulls punctuate both the folklore and the ghost literature of the British Isles. From benevolent guardian spirits bringing luck to the household to vengeful spirits tied to a location for all eternity, promising doom and destruction should their mortal remains ever be disturbed. England, is dotted with many manor houses and farmsteads with such tales -but what is their origin?  Are they comparatively recent – many tales cite the seventeenth century for their origin – or do they have more ancient antecedents?  The tales were both relished and embellished by the Gothic-loving Victorians and later writers – how much influence have those literary tales of screaming skulls had in shaping the living folk tradition?

How to spot a screaming skull

So, what exactly is a screaming skull and what are their defining characteristics?

Firstly the term screaming skull, with all its supernatural and dramatic connotations, is unsurprisingly the product of literature. In folklore they are categorised as guardian skulls – the embodiment of the luck of a household or family – which, frankly, sounds a lot less sensational and a lot more, well, protective.

David Clarke in his PhD thesis on Head Cults [1] proposes the following characteristics, common to most traditions:

1. A Dwelling place has a human skull which has been kept for hundreds of years in an important part of the house, in a specially made wall niche, on a prominent windowsill, or beside a hearth;

2. The origin of the skull in unclear, but in oral tradition the date when it took up residence is often placed outside living memory, between the fifteenth and eighteenth centuries, usually as the result of violence, for example murder or execution;

3. Under no circumstances must the skull be removed from its resting place in the building, this being emphasised in all the stories as the most important theme;

4. If the skull is disturbed then outbreaks of paranormal, poltergeist-like phenomena will plague the residents of the house until the skull is replaced in its favourite place.

Three tales of screaming skulls: Anne Griffiths, ‘Owd Nance’ of Burton Agnes Hall, Yorkshire

Burton Agnes Hall. Image by Lenora.

I have to admit that my first introduction to Screaming Skull folklore came from a Misty annual in the 1980’s- and it resulted in me pestering my dad until he took me to Burton Agnes Hall.  I still have the old guide-book and one solitary grainy old photograph I took at the time (see above) as well as a lingering sense of disappointment that I didn’t get to see the infamous skull itself, which is walled up in a secret location within the hall.

Anne Griffiths, by Geehearts (Burton Agnes Hall).

Folklore has it that the three Griffiths sisters, Frances, Margaret and Catherine (known by her baptismal name as Anne), caused Burton Agnes Hall to be built during the closing years of the reign of Elizabeth I.  Just before the hall was completed, the youngest sister, Anne, was returning from a visit to a family in a nearby village when she was attacked and left for dead by a gang of ruffians.  Brought back to her beloved hall, her dying wish was to remain there after death; she claimed to her sisters that she would not rest ‘unless I, or part of me at least, remain here in our beautiful home as long as it lasts’[2]. She pressed her sisters to agree that once she had died, they would remove her head and keep it on a table in the hall.  However, unsurprisingly, they buried her intact in the local churchyard.

Shortly afterwards, strange things began to happen within the Hall, loud crashes and bangs were heard, poltergeist activity erupted in the depths of the night. The family was terrified and recalling their broken promise to Anne, they set out to make amends.  The coffin was duly opened and what they found shocked them – Anne had preempted them. Although her body remained well-preserved, to their horror they found that her head was now detached and bare of all flesh – only a grinning skull remained.   Anne had her will in the end, and her skull was set upon a table in her beloved hall. Peace reigned once again at Burton Agnes Hall…..well, for most of the time – it is said that Anne, also known as Owd Nance, still walks in October, the month of her supposed demise, and her presence is often felt in the Queens Chamber at Burton Agnes Hall, to this very day.

The Vengeful Slave of Bettiscombe Manor, Dorset

Bettiscombe Manor. Image source: British History.ac.uk website.

Bettiscombe Manor is the ancestral home of the Pinney family, and is built on very ancient ground.   The story goes that one Azaiah Pinney was due to be hanged drawn and quartered for his part in the failed Monmouth Rebellion of 1685.  A swift bribe ensured he was instead whisked away to the colonies, to be an indentured servant in the Caribbean.  Clearly being a man of sterner stuff, Azaiah eventually became a rich plantation owner on the Isle of Nevis.  Many years later a descendant of Azaiah,   returned to Bettiscombe in the company of a negro slave.

The Bettiscombe skull beneath the gaze of a Pinney. Image from Rusmea.com.

The slave, used to tropical climes, was not much taken with the wind and rain-swept Dorset landscape and was soon on his deathbed.  His dying wish was that his remains be returned home for burial and added to this entreaty was a warning not to fail him ‘if his wish were to be ignored, then the house would have no peace.’ [3].  Well, the canny Pinney family were not about to go to the expense of repatriating the remains of a negro slave, and the man was duly buried in the local churchyard.

Soon the dark chambers of Bettiscombe were disturbed by unearthly screams and unexplained happenings, something was terribly amiss.   The broken promise was recalled and the unfortunate slave’s remains dug up.  His bones were brought to the hall and at once the disturbing phenomena ceased.  Only his skull now remains, and was set in a niche in a chimney up in the attic.  Should anyone be foolish enough to try to remove it from its favourite resting place –

‘it is said to scream and cause agricultural disaster if taken out of the house and also causes the death, within a year, of the person who commits the deed.’ [4]

 A rake or a martyr – Wardley Hall near Manchester

Old Postcard of Wardley Hall.

Two stories exist to explain the mysterious skull of Wardley Hall, and they could not be more different.  The first claims that in the reign of Charles the II, one Roger Downes was a notorious rake and libertine.   One night in 1676, Downes was walking on London Bridge with some acquaintances, when he boasted that he would attack the next person he met – he was as good as his word, killing an innocent tailor.  Unfortunately for the young blade, his next intended victim, a Thames water man, was no pushover and not only got the better of Downes, but succeeded in decapitating him and tossing his body into the Thames.  In a macabre twist, his severed head was returned to his sister at Wardley Hall (one can’t help imagining her reaction upon opening the parcel…).

Rakes duelling. Image source uncertain.

The head was duly buried but then the boisterous bachelor took haunting the hall in order to convey his displeasure at being displaced.  Consequently his skull found a permanent resting place in a niche on the stairs – and harmony returned to Wardley.

However in 1799 when Roger Downes coffin was opened – his head was found to be firmly attached to his body!

The alternative origin story of the Wardley Hall skull, is that is belongs to one Father Ambrose Barlow, a Catholic Martyr – and this is the view of the Catholic Church.  Wardley Hall is now the home to the Catholic Bishop of Salford.  Perhaps this is why the story of the libertine Roger Downes exists – as cover for the real provenance of the skull as a Catholic relic?

Skull of St Ambrose.  Source: Visit Salford website.

During the seventeenth century, what with the Reformation and the gunpowder plot,  it was not such a good thing to be seen to be a Catholic.  However, certain parts of the country still held enclaves, Lancashire being one.   Ambrose Barlow was said to have been conducting a Catholic Mass on  Sunday 25th of April when a mob, lead by a protestant preacher, carried him off to gaol.  He was hanged, drawn and quartered on 10 September 1641.  As was the custom, his head was displayed (as a warning to the others) and was set upon a spike in Manchester.   Eventually the head was saved from this ignominious fate by a Catholic sympathizer and returned to Wardley Hall, to be revered as a holy relic.  It was lost for a time, then rediscovered in the 1740’s and the screaming skull legend swiftly began. In 1782 Thomas Barritt wrote:

‘From time out of mind the occupiers of Wardley Hall have had a superstitious veneration for the skull, not permitting it to be removed from its place on the topmost step of the staircase.  There is a tradition that if removed or ill-used, some uncommon screaming and lamenting is heard, and disturbances take place in many parts of the house.’ [5]

In order to ensure that the skull was secure in its tenure, its continued presence was even a condition of the lease [6]. All of which shows how quickly Skull legends could arise, as Clarke notes, the thirty years between the rediscovery in the 1740’s to the recording of the account in 1782, is hardly ‘time out of mind’!

From Guardian Skulls to Screaming Skulls

The origin of the skulls is often lost in the mists of time, and as the Wardley Hall Skull demonstrates, there may even be conflicting stories associated with them within the oral tradition.  Tradition places the origin for most of them as between the fifteenth and seventeenth century – with the Civil War being oft cited.

The Screaming Skull and other Mysteries by Peter Haining

As far as written accounts go, it would seem that the phenomenon was first recorded by Antiquarians in the seventeenth century.  Further accounts were recorded in the eighteenth century, but it was in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries that Screaming Skull legends became part of the popular culture. Writers such as Judge Udal’s 1872 work ‘Notes and Queries’ first brought the Bettiscombe skull to popular attention and inspired a number of other writers to follow suit.   Often these accounts were inaccurate (three sisters did not build Burton Agnes Hall, and it is even doubtful as tp whether Anne Griffiths actually existed) and rather on the dramatic side, emphasizing the supernatural phenomena associated with the skulls.  It was from these accounts that the ‘classic screaming skull’ story became fixed in the public imagination and in the literature. Including that of F Marion Crawford whose supernatural tale ‘ The Screaming Skull’, published in 1911, was inspired by the Bettiscombe Skull.

Earlier accounts had focused on the Skulls apotropaic qualities, their protective magic or ‘luck’ for a certain location or family, later tales focused on a more purposeful and romantic ideal of vengeful spirits of those who died violently. Such examples as those at Burton Agnes Hall and Bettiscombe Manor fit the ‘classic’ mold perfectly, with their wronged spirits tied to a place for eternity – and their noisy disapproval if anyone should dare to move them.  It has been noted by Gillian Bennett that once these tales were recorded, they became fixed and immutable, unlike the living oral tradition that had been repeated and elaborated on for many centuries.  Nevertheless because these artifacts do indisputably exist, they still form part of a living folk tradition.  Examples of this can be found at the Pack Horse Inn, Bury, Lancs, where Skull behind the bar (origin unknown) has, in recent years, developed a reputation for being cursed and causing supernatural events.

Celtic stone head. Image via Wikimedia.

In 1996 Clarke recorded a gazette of 32 English Guardian Skull legends, noting that although many were missing, and 7 (including the Burton Agnes skull) had been walled up, 10 remained on display.  Such visible reminders of our own mortality coupled with their link to supernatural phenomenon make them a magnet for stories and legends.

However, considering that the actual evidence for supernatural events, and the famed screaming, is relatively hard to pin down, it might be that the skulls do represent some earlier tradition.  Possibly not stretching back to Celtic head cults as has been suggested (Jennifer Westwood cited in Clarke) –  there is little surviving evidence for Guardian/screaming Skulls in Celtic regions of the British Isles (baring outliers) [8].  Nevertheless such an early origin cannot be entirely discounted – Mysterious Britain also cites some evidence of ancient Celtic traditions surviving in remote communities. In addition to this, two of the skulls, Dickie of Tunstead Farm and the Bettiscombe Skull have been dated to prehistory, and are likely female not male.  Clarke has suggested that it is possible some remnant of a Guardian Skull/Genius Loci concept lingered in certain parts of England.  He cites evidence in that many areas where the legends occur, place names have Celtic origins. And he points to the specific places skulls are often displayed – facing doors, on window sills, at hearths or rafters.  Liminal places and entry points for  malevolent spirits.

It is also hard to ignore the veneration of skulls and bones in Christianity as demonstrated in the reverence for saints relics, a more acceptable form of ancestor worship to the Church, perhaps.

An alternative, could be more metaphysical than supernatural.  Many of the Skulls are said to date from the sixteenth century.  In the late Elizabethan and Jacobean world there was a flowering of metaphysical contemplation of mortality and the vanities of life, both in art and literature.  Could some of these skulls represent Memento Mori from the Jacobean Cult of Melancholy?  The skull was certainly a popular emblem at the time. Is it possible, that once the the original contemplative purpose of the skull was forgotten, stories and legends of a more supernatural bent grew up around these objects?  People have long been fascinated with human skulls, as the seat of the soul and offering a possible link to the other world.

‘Vanitas’ c1671 by Philippe de Champaigne – Public Domain, via Wikimedia.

What ever their true origin, and it could well be a blend of ancient and more modern traditions, the Screaming Skull remains an evocative element of British folklore.

For a classic take on the screaming skull legend in literature, you can read F Marion Crawford’s ‘The Screaming Skull’, inspired by the screaming skull of Bettiscombe Manor….

Sources and Notes

Clarke, David (1999) The head cult : tradition and folklore surrounding the symbol of the severed human head in the British Isles. PhD thesis, University of Sheffield. <http://etheses.whiterose.ac.uk/3472/> [1]-[5] and [7]

http://www.darkdorset.co.uk/bettiscombe_screaming_skull [4]

http://www.mjwayland.com/index.php/screaming-skull/

http://www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/hauntings/screaming-skulls-an-introduction.html [8]

http://www.pitlanemagazine.com/cultures/the-history-of-screaming-skulls.html [6]

http://gaslight.mtroyal.ca/scremskl.htm – F Marion Crawford 1911

A little something for Halloween, or ‘Sleep Tight – Don’t let the bed bugs bite”

Tags

F Marion Crawford, great bed of ware, haunted bedrooms, haunted cots, haunted houses, haunted objects, Larrabee street, the upper birth

The Upper Berth₁

From Punch Magazine 1891

There is nothing more enjoyable during the long cold winter evenings then sitting down and scaring yourself witless reading a good ghost story. It was during one of these rare moments (granted it wasn’t evening, cold or winter but I was by myself!) that I began to re-read one of my favourite ghost stories, ‘The Upper Berth’ by the American writer, F. Marion Crawford. Apparently I am not alone in my feeling that this is one of the creepiest stories ever written. Rumour has it that the master of the ghost story, M.R. James also found the story pretty darn scary. In brief, the story is recounted to a group of friends by the main character, Brisbane who tells them what happened to him whilst travelling to England aboard the Kamtschatka and his grisly experience of the ‘dead thing’ in cabin 105. Below is a brief extract.

“Have you a room-mate?”

“Yes; a deuce of a fellow, who bolts out in the middle of the night, and leaves the door open.”

Again the doctor glanced curiously at me. Then he lit the cigar and looked grave.

“Did he come back?” he asked presently.

“Yes. I was asleep, but I waked up, and heard him moving. Then I felt cold and went to sleep again. This morning I found the porthole open.”

“Look here,” said the doctor quietly, “I don’t care much for this ship. I don’t care a rap for her reputation. I tell you what I will do. I have a good-sized place up here. I will share it with you, though I don’t know you from Adam.”

I was very much surprised at the proposition. I could not imagine why he should take such a sudden interest in my welfare. However, his manner as he spoke of the ship was peculiar.

“You are very good, doctor,” I said. “But, really, I believe even now the cabin could be aired or cleaned out, or something. Why do you not care for the ship?”

“We are not superstitious in our profession, sir,” replied the doctor, “but the sea makes people so. I don’t want to prejudice you, and I don’t want to frighten you, but if you will take my advice you will move in here. I would as soon see you overboard,” he added earnestly, “as know that you or any other man was to sleep in 105.”

“Good gracious! Why?” I asked.

“Just because on the last three trips the people who have slept there actually have gone overboard,” he answered gravely.

The intelligence was startling and exceedingly unpleasant, I confess. I looked hard at the doctor to see whether he was making game of me, but he looked perfectly serious. I thanked him warmly for his offer, but told him I intended to be the exception to the rule by which everyone who slept in that particular state-room went overboard. He did not say much, but looked as grave as ever and hinted that, before we got across, I should probably reconsider his proposal. In the course of time we went to breakfast, at which only an inconsiderable number of passengers assembled. I noticed that one or two of the officers who breakfasted with us looked grave. After breakfast I went into my state-room in order to get a book. The curtains of the upper berth were still closely drawn. Not a word was to be heard. My room-mate was probably still asleep.

As I was reading, I started to think about all the ghost stories both fiction and real life testimonies where the haunting takes place in a bedroom. Often the occupant lies shaking with fear as footsteps and voices are heard in the room; bed coverings are removed by unseen hands; objects are moved; beds are rattled and oppressive figures are felt standing over the bed, at the foot of the bed or scarier still in the bed.

This again led my thoughts on a new trajectory. With all these haunted bedrooms, has anyone ever changed the furniture, and if they have, has the haunting ceased? Are the hauntings rooted to the place or linked to the furnishings? There are numerous stories about haunted possessions such as mirrors, dolls, teddy bears and paintings, so why not a bedroom suite!

A portal to hell?

Image from wikimedia

It is not surprising that bunk beds are considered sinister. It is strangely unnerving to be lying in bed and not be able to see the other person. You can hear noises and see movement but in general, whether or not you are in the lower or upper bunk the other occupant can feel like a disembodied presence. One of the most famous cases of a haunting is believed by the family to have been caused by a cursed bunk bed.

In the spring of 1986, Allen Tallman along with his pregnant wife, Debbie and their two children, Kenny and Mary Ann moved into a house in Larrabee Street, Horicon, Wisconsin. Initially all was peaceful but in 1987 inexplicable incidences started to occur. Doors would close on their own; footsteps were heard; a radio dial moved on its own; chairs rocked and a basement window was removed and placed on the floor. The children repeatedly became sick and the family started to suffer from terrible nightmares. Kenny and Mary Ann also testified to seeing a strange hag-like figure in the bedroom. Kenny’s description of the figure appeared in a newspaper,

“I saw an old lady standing in the door of my room. A little old lady, really ugly, with long black hair and a glow about her like fire.”₂

On the TV show ‘Unsolved Mysteries’ Allen Tallman related how he finally had enough of the situation and challenged the presence to a fight. Shortly after this, he was returning home from work in the early hours of the morning when he saw what he describes as something glowing “…inside the garage, an orange red. There were flames coming out of the overhead door. There were two eyes in the windows.” Terrified he ran into the kitchen where he was attacked. His words had obviously angered the spirit who he heard whisper to him once when he was sleeping on the floor of his daughters’ room “you’re dead”₃. Pastor Wayne Dobratz was brought in to investigate and concluded that the presence was not only evil but demonic. Finally the family had had enough and left their house never to return.

The house on Larrabee Street. [image from newsfromthespiritworld.com]

The family strongly believe that the source of the haunting was that of a second hand bunk bed which they had bought in February 1986. The bunk bed was moved into the girls’ room in the May of that year and it was in that room that the children and relatives saw the figure of the old woman (it would be interesting to know if the basement window was removed whilst the bunk bed was being stored there!). The bunk bed was eventually disposed of and buried in a landfill site. What is fascinating is that despite the local legend which surrounds the house no subsequent owner has ever reported anything sinister or supernatural and the family themselves have never experienced any other supernatural incidents. This does support the Tallman’s view that it was the bunk bed and not the house that was cursed.

The curse of the cot

Haunted chamber in Chambercombe Manor – the cradle on the left is said to rock by itself

There is a well-known superstition that parents should never place their baby in a cot or use a mattress or blanket which is second hand. Many people strongly believe that these objects can be either haunted or cursed with the spirit of a new born who has died threatening the life of a living child. One woman describes how shortly before she gave birth she was given an old white wicker crib. The first night it was in the house she was awoken by the sound of a baby crying. She finally realised that the sound was coming from the crib. Believing the crib to be haunted by the soul of a dead child, she placed it in the attic and bought a new basinet. This did not stop the haunting cries which continued to be heard even during the day. The sound was so loud that “My mother and even the neighbors heard the shrill cries coming from my house and thought I had given birth prematurely.”₄ In the end she sold the crib and never found out what happened to it.

Maybe that is one of the reasons why I found it so hard to find the stories I was looking for.  People who have bought beds with an ‘unusual’ history normally want to sell them on quickly and decide to omit certain details that could make potential buyers think twice. The exceptions seem to be people who become fascinated by their strange beds and keep them in spite of their history or people who have lived with the objects all their lives and have become used to them.

The haunted four poster

 

Haunted chamber in Chambercombe Manor, complete with fourposter bed and haunted cradle (it is said to rock by itself)

I came across one such story submitted by an Australian teacher to a website on ghosts and mysteries (website link is shown below). In his post he describes how his neighbours at that time bought an antique four poster bed. Strange things began to happen. At first it was just that the cat would not sleep on it, then they noticed a cold damp patch at the end of the bed, later they both began to sense a presence sitting on the bed. They sold it on to a second hand dealer. The author continues that twenty years later he happened to read about a couple who had bought the exact same bed and had experiences similar to that of his old neighbours

“However, they found it fascinating rather than scary. They kept the bed and slowly the haunting progressed. Finally, they were able to make out the form of a woman sitting on the end of the bed, and hear her sobbing. Fascinated, they began the task of tracing the provenance/history of the bed. Back they went through several owners. And yes, all had similar experiences. They included my neighbours from the 1970’s and most, like them, had sold on the bed without telling anyone of the haunting. Further back they researched, through more people. Finally they found a gruesome story involving the bed. A young woman had been attacked, viciously stabbed, and bled to death on the end of the bed…The last couple felt sympathy rather than fear for the young woman’s ghost and decided not to try and get rid of it.”₅

The Great Bed of Ware

 

The Great Bed at V&A Museum ©V&A Images

Lastly I wanted to write about a very special bed whose history has been well documented and has been a source of wonder for me ever since I saw it on display at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. The beautifully carved oak bed is thought to have been made in the late 16^th century by Jonas Fosbrooke, a German craftsman for an inn in Ware, possibly as a publicity stunt. The enormous bed is over three meters wide and weighs about 641kg and is believed to be able to easily accommodate four couples. It is first referred to in 1596 by a German prince staying at the White Hart Inn.  During its long history the bed moved around between five inns in Ware, The White Hart, The George, The Crown, The Bull and the Saracen’s Head. In 1870 the bed was bought by Henry Teale and taken to Rye House, Hoddesdon, as a visitor attraction for his pleasure garden.

Although large beds were not uncommon in public houses where space was at a premium and men often slept in the same bed to save money, the Ware bed had to have been unusual considering how famous it became. Its fame was such that it was even mentioned by Shakespeare in Twelfth Night when his character Sir Toby Belch describes a sheet of paper as “big enough for the Bed of Ware”. It was also referenced in Ben Jonson’s 1609 play ‘The Silent Woman’ and in George Farquhar’s 1706 play ‘The Recruiting Officer’. There is also a story which appeared in the London Chronicle in July 1765₆ about how in 1689 the bed became the subject of a bet when 26 butchers and their wives agreed to spend the night in it! Not sure how they would have physically managed that but it would have sure given a different meaning to the expression ‘sleep tight’.

The bed is reputedly haunted by the ghost of its maker. It appears from all accounts to be either a snobbish or prudish spirit, depending on which story you wish to believe. One version is that the ghost takes offence to any person of a rank lower than royalty sleeping in the bed and the other that he dislikes couples having sex in the bed. Whenever such a ‘despicable’ act would occur he was reported to take direct action to put a halt to their amorous activities by pinching the couple until they stopped (he must have been furious with the butchers and their wives!).

Ware Drama Society in the Great Bed of Ware, 1964 [www.ourhertfordandware.org.uk]

Last thoughts before I say goodnight!

Night time when we are surrounded by darkness and silence is when we feel at our most vulnerable. It is the time when people are alone with their thoughts. Fears, sadness and anxieties built up through the day come to the surface and prey on unguarded minds. It is also the time of the witching hour when it is believed that the veil between the unseen and seen world is at its thinnest and people are most susceptible to demonic and unnatural forces.

If you then start reckoning into the mix the number of deaths, both natural or through murder or suicide that take place in beds; the countless cases of invalids lying in bed, often alone for hours, maybe thinking unpleasant or depressive thoughts and scenes of jealousy and anger as wives and husbands have discovered their adulterous spouses, it is not then unexpected that so many ghost stories take place in bedrooms. What is strange is how few stories both fictional and ‘real’ seem to exist about haunted beds as opposed to haunted bedrooms. It could be that unlike more portable items such as mirrors, rocking chairs and paintings in many cases it is just more convenient to sell bulky antique beds with the house or it could be as I previously said that people just prefer to remain quiet when selling dubious bedroom suites.

Despite how fascinating this topic is, I would just give a word of warning, if you are out looking for a bed, maybe play it safe and head to Ikea!

James McBryde’s 1904 illustration for Oh Whistle and I’ll Come to You, My Lad from M R James’ Ghost Stories of an Antiquary

Some ghost stories for Halloween…

You can find the F Marion Crawford’s terrifying tale ‘The Upper Birth’ in full, along with several other spine chilling tales, in the Portmanteau of Terror section of this blog.  Enjoy….

Happy Halloween!

Notes:

1. The Upper Berth by F. Marion Crawford
2. News from the Spirit World, Haunting Tales: Ghost of Larrabee St. (Tallman’s Ghost), http://newsfromthespiritworld.com/2013/01/24/haunting-tales-ghost-of-larrabee-st-tallmans-ghost/
3. News from the Spirit World, Haunting Tales: Ghost of Larrabee St. (Tallman’s Ghost), http://newsfromthespiritworld.com/2013/01/24/haunting-tales-ghost-of-larrabee-st-tallmans-ghost/
4. Real Haunted Beds; http://www.hauntedamericatours.com/haunted/Curesbedtroubles.php
5. The haunted bed, http://www.ghost-mysteries.com/viewstory.php?id=6023
6. History Extra: The Great Bed of Ware, http://www.historyextra.com/bedofware

Bibliography:

1. The Upper Berth by F. Marion Crawford
2. News from the Spirit World, Haunting Tales: Ghost of Larrabee St. (Tallman’s Ghost); http://newsfromthespiritworld.com/2013/01/24/haunting-tales-ghost-of-larrabee-st-tallmans-ghost/
3. Real Haunted Beds; http://www.hauntedamericatours.com/haunted/Curesbedtroubles.php
4. The haunted bed; http://www.ghost-mysteries.com/viewstory.php?id=6023
5. History Extra: The Great Bed of Ware; http://www.historyextra.com/bedofware
6. The Great Bed of Ware; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Bed_of_Ware
7. Ware, Hertfordshire; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ware,_Hertfordshire
8. Local Legends; http://message.snopes.com/showthread.php?t=48421
9. 10 objects believed to be haunted; http://www.mandatory.com/2012/09/21/10-objects-believed-to-be-haunted/

 

 

 

 

 

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