The Headless Ghost by T.F. Thiselton Dyer 1883
'I SAW it, sir, as plain as could be in the clear moonlight. It was on the evening of the day when Squire Moore's daughter was married; and folks did say when they heard what had been seen that it augured no good to the young lady.'
Such was Sam Greg's statement about the Headless Ghost and although the neighbours often laughed at him for telling this improbable tale, yet, as he would argue, they could not gainsay the fact that the poor girl died soon after her marriage, having caught a fatal fever when travelling in Italy.
It must not be supposed that Sam Greg's belief in this headless apparition is an isolated case, for even at the present day there are numerous neighbourhoods where the peasantry relate many a graphic story of the adventures of this class of mysterious spectres whose weird actions vary in different localities. Indeed it was not very long ago that in a Yorkshire village an old inhabitant remarked with much warmth, 'Bad enough at any time to meet a ghost; but the Lord nearly took away my wits one night when, as I was returning home after visiting my sick mother, I suddenly saw a woman approach me, carrying her head in her arms as if it had been a bundle of some sort or other. I rubbed my eyes, as I thought I must be dreaming; but that made matters no better, for the headless spectre kept coming nearer and nearer until it stood before me. I hope that I may never see such a sight again, for things of this kind always foretell misfortune, as it happened in my case, my mother dying that night.'
The circumstance of death being presaged by apparitions of this sort has been regarded to have something symbolical in it, for, as it has been pointed out, it is very natural to denote the cessation of life by a headless figure devoid of the seat of sensation and thought. Thus it may be remembered how Dr. Ferrier in his Theory of Apparitions, speaking of second sight in Scotland, mentions the case of an old Northern chieftain who owned to a relative of his 'that the door of the room in which he and some ladies were sitting had appeared to open, and that a little woman without a head had entered the room; that the apparition indicated the sudden death of some person of his acquaintance.' In the same way the painters of times gone by were in the habit of representing the martyrs by characteristic badges, employing those which best suited their mode of execution; some with a knife in the bosom, and others, who had been decapitated, with their heads upon a table close by, or in their hands. Hence, too, perhaps arose the singular sign, says Mr. Wright, in a note on Croker's Fairy Legends of the South of Ireland, still so great a favourite with our oilmen, 'The Good Woman,' originally expressive of a female saint who had met her death by the privation of her head. How, he further adds, 'by the waggery of after ages, the "Good Woman" came to be converted down into the "Silent Woman," as if it were a matter of necessity, is thus explained by the poet:
'A silent woman, sir! you said;
Pray was she painted without her head?
Yes, sir, she was! You never read on
A silent woman with her head on!
Besides, you know, there's nought but speaking
Can keep a woman's heart from breaking.'
Referring, however, to other instances of the 'headless ghost' as a forerunner of death, we are informed how, in Northumberland, when the death hearse, drawn by headless horses and driven by a headless driver, is seen about midnight, proceeding rapidly but without noise towards the churchyard, the death of one of the chief inhabitants in the parish is sure to happen at no very distant period. Mr. Henderson, in his Folklore of the Northern Counties (1879, p. 326), tells us that night after night, when it is sufficiently dark, the headless coach whirls along the rough approach to Langley Hall, near Durham, drawn by black and fiery steeds. It is recorded too, he further adds, in Bee's diary, that the death of one John Borrow of Durham was presaged by a vision of a coach drawn by six black swine, and driven by a black driver.
In Ireland, the death coach is popularly known as 'coach abower,' and when heard to drive round any particular house is a sure omen of death; a graphic account of this dreaded apparition being given in Croker's Fairy Legends of Ireland, from which we quote the following stanzas:
'Tis midnight; how gloomy and dark!
By Jupiter, there's not a star!
Tis fearful, 'tis awful! And hark!
What sound is that comes from afar?
A coach! But that coach has no head;
And the horses are headless as it.
Of the driver the same may be said.
And the passengers inside who sit.'
On one occasion, when the family party were gathered together round the festive board in an old castle in the South of Ireland, on Christmas Eve, the prancing of horses was suddenly heard, besides the violent cracking of the driver's whip—indications, as it was naturally thought, that one of the absent members of the household had arrived. In eager expectation, some of the young people rushed to the door; but, on opening it, discovered to their horror that it was the apparition of the 'headless coach and horseman'—the certain forerunner of calamity. So, too, it happened; for on the following day—Christmas morning— the news reached them of the death of the eldest son, on his way home from a foreign land, where he had been engaged for some years in diplomatic service. Furthermore, among the legendary and traditional anecdotes of monasteries in bygone times we are reminded that oftentimes the spectres of monks and nuns, whose death was at hand, were seen in the chapel, occupying their accustomed seats, but without heads. Dr. Grimm, too, writing in the Journal des Sciences (1826), says: 'The people of Basse Bretagne believe that when the death of any person is at hand a hearse drawn by skeletons, and covered with a white sheet, passes by the house where the sick person lies, and the creaking of the wheels may be plainly heard.'
Again, the wandering of these headless ghosts on the earth seems to have been enjoined by way of penance. In Thiele's Danske Folkesagn we are told how at Odense, in the island of Funem, a story is current of a priest who, having committed some terrible crime, was buried alive for his offence, and, as a punishment, his ghost was condemned to wander perpetually about. Sunday children — those born during the hour after midnight on Sunday being gifted with the power through life of seeing the spirits of the departed — often, after his death, beheld him going restlessly about with his head under his arm. Indeed, there are numerous stories of this kind prevalent cn the Continent, most of which are carefully preserved as warnings to those who might be guilty of any similar offence. In the little village of Acton, Suffolk, it was commonly reported by the inhabitants, a few years ago, that on certain occasions the park-gates were wont to fly open at midnight of their own accord, 'without hands,' and that a carriage, drawn by four spectral horses and accompanied by headless grooms and outriders, proceeded from the park, and drove furiously through the village to a spot called 'The Nursery Corner.' Tradition affirms that this mysterious apparition, which has at different times scared so many persons almost to death, originated in a very fierce and bloody engagement, which took place in days of old, when the Romans were masters of England. It is worthy of note, too, that near this haunted corner there is a pool, locally known as Wimbell Pond, where, according to a popular legend, an iron chest of money is concealed. In former years few persons cared to visit it; for it was reported that if any one was bold enough to throw a stone into the water it would ring against the chest, while a small figure attired in white would be heard to cry, in accents of deep distress, 'That's mine.'
To quote a further instance of this class of superstition, it is said that at Beverley in Yorkshire the headless ghost of Sir Josceline Percy drives four headless horses nightly above its streets, pausing regularly over a certain house, which, it was affirmed, contained a large chest with one hundred nails in it, one of which dropped out every year. One of the most disagreeable features of this spectral performance is the terrible oath of Sir Josceline as he keeps cracking his whip to urge on with renewed haste his panting horses. The legendary reason assigned for this strange affair is that on one occasion Sir Josceline was guilty of a gross act of desecration in riding on horseback into Beverley Minster. Not very long ago, an aged inhabitant was heard to say, 'It's not so much the apparition I mind as the fearful and ghastly noise which the unquiet and wretched spirit of Sir Josceline makes as he nightly rends the air with his awful curses.'
Localities, again, where any fatal accident has happened or murder been committed are frequently haunted by the 'headless ghost.' Thus it is related how, some years ago, a clergyman of St. Catharine's Church, Dublin, who resided at the old castle of Donore, put an end to his life by hanging himself out of a window near the top of the castle. Not very long after this terrible event the neighbourhood was thrown into a state of alarm by a coach being seen at nighttime driven not only by a headless coachman, but drawn by headless horses. Indeed, this notion still prevails in most parts of England, and the appearance of such unearthly spectres is generally attributed to unpunished deeds of darkness in days gone by. As a Sussex peasant once remarked, 'No wonder headless spectres roam about in all manner of out of-the-way corners at night-time, so long as the crimes committed during their lifetime remain unexpiated.'
Lastly, of the many other instances of this curious superstition, Sir Walter Scott, speaking of the Irish dullahan, says: 'It puts me in mind of a spectre at Drumlanrick Castle of no less a person than the Duchess of Queensberry — "Fair Kitty, blooming, young, and gay" — who, instead of setting fire to the world in mamma's chariot, amuses herself with wheeling her own head in a wheelbarrow through the great gallery.' In the Glasgow Chronicle for January 1826 we find the following occurrence recorded as having taken place at Paisley on the occasion of some silkweavers being out of employment: 'Visions have been seen of carts, caravans, and coaches going up Gleniffer Braes without horses, or with horses without heads. Not many nights ago mourning - coaches, too, were seen going up the Cart above the town with all the solemnity of a funeral. Some hoaryheaded citizens relate that, about thirty years backward in their history, a famine was prognosticated in much the same way by unusual appearances in the Causey-side. The most formidable witnesses in favour of the visions came from Neilston, who declare that they have seen the coaches, &c., two by two, coming over the braes, aud are quite willing to depose to said facts, whenever asked, before the Paisley magistrates.'
At Dalton, near Thirsk, Mr. Baring-Gould informs us that there is an old barn, which is haunted by a headless woman. One night a tramp went into it to sleep. At midnight he was awakened by a light, and, sitting up, he saw a woman coming towards him from the end of the barn, holding her head in her hands like a lantern, with light streaming forth from the eyes, nostrils, and mouth. He sprang out of the barn in a fright, breaking a hole in the wall to escape.
In Sussex some spirits are reported to walk about without their
heads, whereas others carry them under their arms; and in a certain village, one haunting a dark lane bears a ball of fire upon its shoulders instead of its natural head. In the same county, too, among the ghosts of the brute creation, a headless horse is not only said to tear madly up and down a lane in Tillington, but the apparition of a headless pig is occasionally seen in the parish. Referring to the spectres of headless animals, these appear to have been especially common; and in one of the early numbers of the Spectator we read: 'My friend the butler desired me, with a very grave face, not to venture myself in the wood after sunset, for that one of the footmen had been almost frightened out of his wits by a spirit that had appeared to him in the shape of a black horse without a head.' Of the strange stories related also in connection with Sir Francis Drake, it was commonly reported in years past that he was accustomed to drive at night-time a black hearse, drawn by headless horses and urged on by yelping headless dogs and running devils, along the road from Tavistock to Plymouth. Indeed, as Mr. Hunt, in his Popular Romances of the West of England (1871,p. 230), adds, 'Sir Francis Drake was especially befriended by his demon. According to tradition, he was enabled to destroy the Spanish Armada by the aid of the devil. The old admiral went to Devil's Point, a well-known promontory jutting into Plymouth Sound. He there cut pieces of wood and cast them into the water, and, by the power of magic and the assistance of his demon, these became at once well-armed gunboats.' Oftentimes, also, in the stillness of the midnight hours, headless dogs are said to hover about those localities where either death or misfortune of any kind may be at hand, foretelling the sad news by their ominous and plaintive howl. Why, however, it should be considered necessary for spectre animals to be headless it is difficult to decide, unless their being so has been thought, by the superstitious imagination of our credulous peasantry, to enhance the value of these weird and mysterious warnings. Mr. Wright, too, remarks that 'the dog, probably, like the horse, on account of our intimacy with him, is generally a favourite actor in superstition; and it is not surprising, therefore, that what befalls the one in death should be made to befall the other.' To quote an illustration of this superstition, we may give the following anecdote, which is of recent occurrence: One night, when one of the children was lying dangerously ill, the nurse excitedly entered the dining-room, and informed the parents that their child would die, as she had seen a little white dog, without a head, walk three times round the garden. The child did die; and what as my informant added, was still more curious, was the circumstance that a white Maltese dog, belonging to the sick child, had died only six months beforehand, a fact of which the nurse professed to be ignorant.
Leaving cases of this kind, we may note in conclusion that, in days gone by, the living as well as the dead occasionally managed to do without their heads. Thus our readers may recollect how Pliny's Blemmyae were reported to be headless, and to have their months and their eyes in their breastspeople of whom Othello speaks,
'The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders.'
Then, of course, there is the popular legend of St. Denis, who contrived, without his head, to walk from Paris to the place which now bears his name. And at Zaragoza, in Spain, there is a church known as Engracia, the patron of which, runs the legend, marched a league, not only carrying his head in his hands, but talking as he journeyed along.
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