Is every old house in this village haunted?

In Sian Evans’ book “ghosts, mysterious tales from the National Trust” she says

                     “buildings which have been constructed from former standing stones are subject to a poltergeist-like manifestation”

Avebury, Wiltshire

The village is Avebury, in Wiltshire. Over the centuries the area has been sparsely colonised with a small village growing slowly in the middle of a huge area of massive, pre-historic standing stones. They age back about 6000 years and the area is one of Europe’s most mysterious places. On a cold winter’s morning, when the frost is crisp upon the ground, the presence of antiquity and pagan worship is palpable when you see the stones emerging from the ragged wisps of mist which writhe in and out of these huge sentinels. There is a timeless, primeval feeling which has remained unchanged for thousands of years.

But in more modern times, a mere 700 years ago, the villagers began to destroy the stones and bury as many of them as they could. This was probably a direct order from the Church which could not live with such blatant pagan symbols of worship on its doorstep. But it is believed that the pagan Gods never left. This fear was strengthened in the 18th and 19th centuries when many of the stones were dug up, broken up and used in the building of houses and barns. Many of these houses have consistently reported ghosts and poltergeist movements within their walls. It is an acknowledged belief that spirits can enter the structure of a building and will follow the stones wherever they should go.

Stone circles at Avebury, Wiltshire

Even now, locals report sight of night-ghostly figures floating around the stones which still stand...especially when the magic of a full moon is bathing the countryside in a cold white light, and strange lights and music have been heard. And there is an eerie story of a “time slip”. In late 1916 a woman drove into Avebury and being a stranger decided to follow an avenue of huge stones which led her into the heart of the village. There she saw a crowd noisily celebrating at what seemed to be a fair. It was only some time later that she learnt that the stone avenue was destroyed in the 1790s, and the last fair took place in 1850.

So stories are rampant of ghostly figures, moving lights, spectral music with many of the old houses which used the ancient stones in their construction suffering from “The Haunt”.

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This timeless land; this ancient castle

The history of this place can be traced back over 200 million years. Along the southern lands of England there was once a dry climate which we would not recognise today, and after further millions of years had passed we would have seen the emergence of a warmth and moisture which caused sea levels to rise, with an explosion of plant life and the arrival of animals, birds and insects in a staggering variety of forms. All this is well documented by fossil records along the Jurassic coast.

Then man joined this scene when the world was already old. There is much evidence of settlements which existed 8,000 years ago; a mere blink of an eye in geological terms.

Corfe Castle, Dorset

Such a place is Corfe Castle in Dorset. Here, there were Celtic communities which had migrated from the middle east (to see a brief synopsis of the turmoil in middle east civilisations at that time, see my post about Aleppo). There are also many older burial sites at Corfe of those who had crossed the land bridge from Europe. Trade in copper, pottery and manufactured crafts produced thriving communities which ran adjacent to farming. This continued unbroken well into the Roman age where villas and industrial sites can be seen...although there were one or two hiccups on the way. There are stories of a Roman legion which disappeared leaving only a ghostly presence which many have claimed to have seen on cold windy nights in winter. Where the legion came from we don’t know, although there was undoubtedly a huge and bloody battle at Maiden Castle which resulted in the destruction of the local tribe of Celts (see my post about Maiden Castle to get a feel for what happened). And then, after the Romans left in the 5th Century there was constant warfare with invaders from Germany and Scandinavia. This culminated in an enormous sea battle off Swanage where the Viking fleet, about 100 ships, was soundly beaten by the Saxon King, King Alfred, and this is where our story really starts. In order to cement his victory, he started to build Corfe Castle on a hilltop to keep watch for any further incursions. This was in the year 885. But then, because there was no external threat, the usual internal rivalries and murders began to take place which prompted the Danes to return. So followed many decades of “disagreements”, deaths and murders. Then, enter the Normans. This immediately resulted in the building of the stone castle to replace the older structure, and which remained a royal stronghold until medieval times. True to form, there was much torture and murder there with successive kings and queens being involved. Edward ll was imprisoned there, Henry Vll and Henry Vlll both knew the castle well and eventually Elizabeth l sold it when it was further developed to help withstand the threat of a Spanish invasion.

Naturally, there was more murder and mayhem to follow. During the civil war the castle was besieged by Parliamentary forces and eventually fell after two sieges in 1645. The defence was organised by one of the unsung heroines of our history, Lady Bankes. She was only beaten after one of her trusted aides turned traitor. Such was the strength of Corfe Castle that it was ordered to be systematically blown up, which resulted in its almost complete destruction.

So, what you see today is a shell which lifts its shattered walls to the sky, perched on the top of a hill which dominates the surrounding countryside. There are broken columns of masonry and walls which lean at awkward angles like the ribs of a disjointed and tortured animal. It radiates a very strong feeling of the history and turbulence of this castle from times now long past.

Corfe Castle, Dorset

It now gets even more interesting. In addition to ghosts from Roman times, countless harsh and painful deaths over the centuries including the wholesale massacre at Maiden Castle, the bare bones of Corfe then began to inspire...even attract...a wide variety of spirits. Strange lights have been seen moving randomly within the ruins (see my book Catacombs of the Damned, chapter 14 to get a feeling for the destructive forces of “will o’the wisps” which such lights are called) and there are frantic weeping and cries from children heard at night, presumably from the dreadful aftermath of the sacking of the castle where there would have been uncontrolled killing of defenders, regardless of sex or age. But the most chilling of all the stories is that of a headless woman who wafts through the ruins, dressed all in white and who freezes the blood of those whom she meets. They shake in terror until she just fades away.

So Corfe is a place of long and violent history where the variety of spectres from the archaeological remains give a special ambience to one of England’s great castles. But if you visit it at night when the storms rage, go with a friend.

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Is this Dorset’s most diversified haunted house?

Just for starters: a cat, a monkey, two duellists, a barrel maker in the cellars, a Grey Lady, a priest dressed in black – and there are probably lots more, given the age of the house.

The place is Athelhampton Hall, near Dorchester.

Bernard Cornwell wrote a terrific novel called “Death of Kings” which describes the brutal world of England in the tenth century. It ranges over the 100 year period from 839 to the mid 900s where Athelwulf, the king of Wessex sired a whole dynasty whose names started with Athel, Al, Aefth, and finally Athelstan who was probably the first true King of England.  Athelstan had many palaces, one of which is reputed to be the site where Athelhampton Hall was later built in the reign of Edward IV... about 1470. So the Hall’s name beginning with Athel is surely no coincidence.

The ghost stories however start in later times in the Civil War period – see my blog The Sedgemoor Ghosts for a feel of those times.

A guest was staying at the Hall and was disturbed by two duellists who fought until one was stabbed; they both then just disappeared much to the astonishment of the visitor. The Hall’s owners had Royalist sympathies at that time but one can only speculate what the disagreement was about. And sometimes, from the depths of the cellars can be heard the noise of what is believed to be a cooper continually employed in repairing barrels. But these days there are no barrels to be repaired.

There is also a Grey Lady who floats around the house, and rather disconcertingly makes a habit of disappearing through the panelling when challenged.

And then there are the animals… a cat has been heard stalking the boards while an ape which was mistakenly incarcerated in one of the passages can be heard incessantly scratching at the wood panelling to try to get released. Maybe it is trying to get the attention of a Priest, dressed in black who has been seen walking up and down the passages. This might be a Catholic Priest who many great houses had to hide during the religious turmoil of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

What about the ghosts from more ancient times? Given the lengthy history of the house and its land, it is quite reasonable to assume that there might be more spirits waiting to reveal themselves. My recent blog Is this the oldest ghost in Britain? looks at a ghost which is 2600 years old; so there might be many more lurking in the background of Athelhampton Hall.

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A “most unsatisfactory” death which led to exorcism...

After the first world war one of Britain’s most charismatic soldiers settled into a small cottage about ten miles from Dorchester, in Dorset. Today, if you visit this cottage you will be startled by the austerity of the rooms which demonstrate quite clearly the materially uncomplicated character who lived there.

The year was 1923.

The owner was T.E. Lawrence, better known to the world as Lawrence of Arabia.

About twelve years later Lawrence was discharged from military service and thus had ample time to pursue his passion for speed by driving his motor cycle with, what was reputed to be at the time, complete disregard for safety. This later resulted in his death when he came upon two boys in the road whom he had to swerve around. He lost control and died six days later in hospital.

Since then, the spirit of Lawrence is said to haunt the cottage with numerous sightings of an individual in arab dress entering the house. But those who try to find him there, have found nothing. Although there have been stories of his arab friend having been seen inside the passageways.

There are also numerous stories of the sound of a motorcycle which mysteriously stops just when you expect to see it.

There is still controversy about his death with a phantom car having been seen in the vicinity but which too disappeared. So maybe the two boys had nothing to do with it. Hence the coroner described the death as “most unsatisfactory”.

In 1985, on the fiftieth anniversary of his death an exorcism was carried out at the scene of his accident to help his spirit find rest. This seems to have been successful as there have been no further reports of sounds or sightings.

Lawrence was extraordinary not only in life, but also in death. May he now rest in peace.

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The Cadfael Companion: The World of Brother Cadfael by Robin Whiteman

My rating at Goodreads: 5 of 5 stars

This is an absolute “must have” for those who have enjoyed the books and/or have followed the TV series.

The Cadfael books portray a twelfth century monk and herbalist who was also the “Sherlock Holmes” of his day. There must be about 20 books which describe his exploits within a framework of historical fact and fiction, with a fascinating blend of people and places recurring throughout the tales.

The 400 pages of the Cadfael Companion is an exceptional guide to about 1000 characters and places, plants and herbs. There is a glossary of medieval terms and maps of Shrewsbury, Shropshire and the Welsh border around which his life was centred. Throughout there are marvellous illustrations which add so much to the text.

The books take on a new life with the Companion beside you. The historical framework within which Cadfael worked can be so much more deeply appreciated with just a few references while you read.

View all my reviews

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A 400 year old skull which still lives

There is a farmhouse in a small village in Somerset where a skull has rested for the last 400 years. This skull can be moved at your peril...

But I am getting ahead of myself...

During the dark days in the west country while the Civil War raged (see my article The Sedgemoor Ghosts for a taste of this) there were unspeakable atrocities committed by both sides. One of the participants in these battles was a certain Theophilus Brome who fought hard against the Royalist cause. Being initially on the winning side he led a comfortable life until his death in 1670. He did however have to keep a low profile after the restoration of Charles II. By then it had become the custom to disinter the bodies of those who had opposed the monarchy, separate their skulls from their skeletons and display the skulls on pikes in a variety of public places. Even the body of Oliver Cromwell was so treated, after being tried for treason, hanged in chains at Tyburn, and his head then displayed outside Westminster!

Theophilus had a mortal dread of this fate, so he persuaded his sister to sever his head after his death and guard it in their farmhouse for perpetuity. The remains of his body were buried at St. James’ Church in Chilton Cantelo. His wishes were duly carried out and his skull still rests, to this day, in the oldest part of the farmhouse. It is a fearsome object with the cavities of the eyes and nose dominating the mouth where the bottom row of teeth and the chin have mysteriously gone missing.

During the centuries after the skull was placed to rest, several attempts have been made to move it, bury it or hide it. However this only galvanised what is a benign spirit into a rampant, noisy and disturbing influence. Unearthly noises, screams and mysterious footsteps have all been witnessed throughout the farmhouse.

In addition, those with long memories might remember the comedian Dave Allen. He experienced such activities when visiting the house about 30 years ago... he left vowing never to return, but was reticent about the specific reasons for his hurried departure.

So the spirit of Theophilus is quite simply anchored to earth. Maybe the time will come, sometime in the distant future, when his skull and skeleton can be reunited so he can depart in peace. But until then he is best left undisturbed.

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A Country Parson, James Woodforde’s Diary 1759-1802

This is yet another gem which I stumbled upon in a charity shop. Having read many modern diaries and biographies which are generally filled with self aggrandisement and vitriolic comments about colleagues and rivals, it was a real treat to read this book. It is so self effacing, filled with amusing episodes of country life and as an informal record of those times is without peer. Beautifully written in a succinct diary format, Woodforde makes a record of his life and times.

There are countless gems...one of my favourites was a description of his two “Piggs” after they had raided his beer store...

     “April 16, 1778. My 2 Piggs are still unable to walk yet, but they are better than they were yesterday. They tumble about the yard and can by no means stand at all steady yet. In the afternoon my 2 Piggs were tolerably sober.”

And he gives a description of life with a sore tooth...

     “Oct 24, 1785. The Tooth-Ache so very bad all night and the same this morn’ that I sent for John Reeves the Farrier who often draws Teeth for People, to draw one for me. He returned with my Man about 11 o’clock this Morning and he pulled it out for me the first Pull, but it was a monstrous Crash and more so, it being one of the Eye Teeth, it had but one Fang but that was very long. I gave Johnny Reeves for drawing it 0.2.6. A great pain in the Jaw Bone continued all Day and Night but nothing so bad as the Tooth Ache...”

In addition, this record is filled with drawings of buildings and country scenes which, with a forward by John Julius Norwich, adds immeasurably to the text. This book is definitely worth trying to find as dipping into it from time to time is an amusing way to pass a few hours.

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Is this the oldest ghost in Britain?

Imagine... 3000 years ago the stone age had given way to the bronze age. Thanks to immigration from Europe the stone age Britons had learnt how to combine tin with copper to make better tools and weapons. Such skills were well known throughout Europe and were readily adopted in Southern England where both commodities were found in abundance.

At the same time, what are now quiet rural backwaters were in those days bustling communities. There were scores of farming households with out-houses to construct pottery, weapons and textiles. There were small burial sites dotting the countryside and the movement of people was common with ceremonial religious practices emerging. My recent blog about Stonehenge gives a few insights into this.

But there were storm clouds elsewhere. Many of the near eastern empires were collapsing and there was constant warfare throughout the mediterranean. So there was mass migration to calmer areas such as Southern England.

Bottlebush Down, Dorset

One such place is in Dorset, south of Salisbury and is now called Bottlebush Down. There was a large community there in about 1000 BC where the warriors had constructed a defensive earthworks called the Cursus. This was about 6 miles long and had 2 parallel ditches about 100 yards apart. It is believed that it housed a garrison to stem the invasions of newcomers from the south and east.

In modern times, this is where a lone horseman has been seen, galloping along the Cursus, to disappear where there is an isolated burial mound. He can be dated because in 1924 an eminent archaeologist Mr R Clay, a bronze age specialist, who was excavating a bronze age site nearby, saw the horseman who rode alongside his car for about 100 yards.

          

                                    “The horse was smallish with a long tail and mane. It had neither bridle nor stirrups. The rider had bare legs, a long flowing cloak and was holding some sort of weapon over his head".”

Mr Clay, with his expert knowledge identified the rider as late bronze age; about 600 BC. And that is not all. The rider has been seen over the centuries by farmers, tourists and passers-by, always at dusk. So this lone horseman, about 2600 years old, is probably our oldest ghost.

But it does beg the question where are all his contemporaries? Perhaps ghosts do, after all, have a finite life and this one is spectacular for his longevity.

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The Sedgemoor Ghosts

It was a gentle, warm day on June 11th 1685 when a small flotilla of boats made landfall in the bay at Lyme Regis in the County of Dorset. There were 82 men in the group who went to work immediately by raising a further 300.

The landing party was led by the Duke of Monmouth, an illegitimate son of Charles II. He had a vision; to wrest the throne of England from James II. But as events unfurled how he, and his supporters must have wished for a “wise woman”, or a suitable seer to warn them of their folly. But in those days such women were hanged.

At first it all went well with more recruits volunteering, but it was a ragtag army of peasants, artisans and farm workers. They marched north with several skirmishes on the way and eventually, in weather which was getting worse and worse, found themselves in the small town of Bridgwater where they dug in. However, by this time recruits were now missing their families and were quietly drifting home. Monmouth’s navy had been captured so cutting off any retreat, and a simultaneous rebellion in Scotland had fizzled out. Royalist troops had virtually surrounded Bridgwater.

So the Duke was stuck on the Somerset Levels, a rather ghostly, mist engulfed marshlands where, about 700 years earlier, King Alfred had also sought sanctuary from the Vikings. The Duke then made the extraordinary decision to lead his ill-equipped army out of Bridgwater on a night march across the moors. He clearly had no knowledge of all the deep and dangerous drainage ditches which criss-crossed the countryside. These are hard enough to ford in daylight, let alone on a cloudy, dark night. So it was only a matter of time before they were seen by a royalist patrol and the alarm was raised.

It was a disaster for the Duke which was eventually to lead to his execution. His army of farm-workers were no match for the King’s regulars and in the early morning of July 6, 1685 the flatlands of Sedgemoor absorbed the blood and spirits of more than 2000 violent deaths. There was more bloodshed to follow as Judge Jeffries hanged more than 300 survivors, but there was one lucky escapee, a certain Daniel Defoe who would go on to write more than 500 books and pamphlets, including the famous Robinson Crusoe.

Today, phantom cavalry can be seen galloping across the moors, jumping the ditches and then disappearing into the mist which hangs in a melancholy salute to the dead. And spectral voices can be heard calling the opposition to defect, while it is said that on the anniversary of the battle the ghost of Monmouth himself can be seen making his escape, stooped and slinking over the land as he fled the field of battle in dishonour. But the most poignant legend is that of a farmer who was given the chance to escape if he could outrun a horse. With his local knowledge he picked the most sodden, waterlogged area and won the race while the horse got bogged down. But he was shot anyway. His lover, who had to witness this event, then cast herself in her misery into the nearest river and drowned. Her ghost can now be seen gliding along the path of the race, while the heavy breathing of the runner can be heard over hoof beats on the turf. Or it might be just the sighing of the wind over the grasses; local views are mixed.

Finally, those who like the books written by Arthur Conan Doyle should get a copy of Micah Clarke. This gives a wonderful dramatisation of the whole saga. Then go to Lyme Regis and Sedgemoor to see for yourself.

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