WEIRD POSSESSIONS.
"But not a word o' it; 'tis fairies' treasure,
Which, but revealed, brings on the blabber's ruin."
MASSINGER'S "_Fatal Dowry_."
From the earliest days a strange fatality has been supposed to cling
to certain things--a phase of superstition which probably finds as
many believers nowadays as when Homer wrote of the fatal necklace of
Eriphyle that wrought mischief to all who had been in possession of
it. In numerous cases, it is difficult to account for the prejudice
thus displayed, although occasionally it is based on some traditionary
story. But whatever the origin of the luck, or ill-luck, attaching to
sundry family possessions, such heirlooms have been preserved with a
kind of superstitious care, handed down from generation to generation.
One of the most remarkable curiosities connected with family
superstitions is what is commonly known as "The Coalstoun Pear," the
strange antecedent history of which is thus given in a work entitled,
"The Picture of Scotland": "Within sight of the House of Lethington,
in Haddingtonshire, stands the mansions of Coalstoun, the seat of the
ancient family of Coalstoun, whose estate passed by a series of heirs
of line into the possession of the Countess of Dalhousie. This place
is chiefly worthy of attention here, on account of a strange heirloom,
with which the welfare of the family was formerly supposed to be
connected.
"One of the Barons of Coalstoun, about three hundred years ago,
married Jean Hay, daughter of John, third Lord Yester, with whom he
obtained a dowry, not consisting of such base materials as houses or
land, but neither more nor less than a pear. 'Sure such a pear was
never seen,' however, as this of Coalstoun, which a remote ancestor of
the young lady, famed for his necromantic power, was supposed to have
invested with some enchantment that rendered it perfectly invaluable.
Lord Yester, in giving away his daughter, informed his son-in-law
that, good as the lass might be, her dowry was much better, because,
while she could only have value in her own generation, the pear, so
long as it was continued in his family, would be attended with
unfailing prosperity, and thus might cause the family to flourish to
the end of time. Accordingly, the pear was preserved as a sacred
palladium, both by the laird who first obtained it, and by all his
descendants; till one of their ladies, taking a longing for the
forbidden fruit while pregnant, inflicted upon it a deadly bite: in
consequence of which, it is said, several of the best farms on the
estate very speedily came to the market."
The pear, tradition goes on to tell us, became stone hard immediately
after the lady had bit it, and in this condition it remains till this
day, with the marks of Lady Broun's teeth indelibly imprinted on it.
Whether it be really thus fortified against all further attacks of the
kind or not, it is certain that it is now disposed in some secure part
of the house--or as we have been informed in a chest, the key of which
is kept secure by the Earl of Dalhousie--so as to be out of all danger
whatsoever. The "Coalstowne pear," it is added, without regard to the
superstition attached to it, must be considered a very great curiosity
in its way, "having, in all probability, existed five hundred years--a
greater age than, perhaps, has ever been reached by any other such
production of nature."
Another strange heirloom--an antique crystal goblet--is said to have
been for a long time in the possession of Colonel Wilks, the
proprietor of the estate of Ballafletcher, four or five miles from
Douglas, Isle of Man. It is described as larger than a common
bell-shaped tumbler, "uncommonly light and chaste in appearance, and
ornamented with floral scrolls, having between the designs on two
sides, upright columellæ of five pillars," and according to an old
tradition, it is reported to have been taken by Magnus, the Norwegian
King of Man, from St. Olave's shrine. Although it is by no means
clear on what ground this statement rests, there can be no doubt but
that the goblet is very old. After belonging for at least a hundred
years to the Fletcher family--the owners of Ballafletcher--it was sold
with the effects of the last of the family, in 1778, and was bought by
Robert Cæsar, Esq., who gave it to his niece for safe keeping. The
tradition goes that it had been given to the first of the Fletcher
family more than two centuries ago, with this special injunction, that
"as long as he preserved it, peace and plenty would follow; but woe to
him who broke it, as he would surely be haunted by the 'Ihiannan Shee'
or 'peaceful spirit' of Ballafletcher." It was kept in a recess,
whence it was never removed, except at Christmas and Eastertide, when
it was "filled with wine, and quaffed off at a breath by the head of
the house only, as a libation to the spirit for her protection."
Then there is the well-known English tradition relating to Eden Hall,
where an old painted drinking-glass is preserved, the property of Sir
George Musgrave of Edenhall, in Cumberland, in the possession of whose
family it has been for many generations. The tradition is that a
butler going to draw water from a well in the garden, called St.
Cuthbert's well, came upon a company of fairies at their revels, and
snatched it from them. They did all they could to recover their
ravished property, but failing, disappeared after pronouncing the
following prophecy:
If this glass do break or fall
Farewell the luck of Edenhall.
So long, therefore, runs the legendary tale, as this drinking glass is
preserved, the "luck of Edenhall" will continue to exist, but should
ever the day occur when any mishap befalls it, this heirloom will
instantly become an unlucky possession in the family. The most recent
account of this cup appeared in _The Scarborough Gazette_ in the year
1880, in which it was described as "a glass stoup, a drinking vessel,
about six inches in height, having a circular base, perfectly flat,
two inches in diameter, gradually expanding upwards till it ends in a
mouth four inches across. The general hue is a warm green, resembling
the tone known by artists as brown pink. Upon the transparent glass is
traced a geometric pattern in white and blue enamel, somewhat raised,
aided by gold and a little crimson." The earliest mention of this
curious relic seems to have been made by Francis Douce, who was at
Edenhall in the year 1785, and wrote some verses upon it, but there
does not seem to be any authentic family history attaching to it.
There is a room at Muncaster Castle which has long gone by the name of
Henry the Sixth's room, from the circumstance of his having been
concealed in it at the time he was flying from his enemies in the
year 1461, when Sir John Pennington, the then possessor of Muncaster,
gave him a secret reception. When the time for the king's departure
arrived, before he proceeded on his journey, he addressed Sir John
Pennington with many kind and courteous acknowledgments for his loyal
reception, regretting, at the same time, that he had nothing of more
value to present him with, as a testimony of his goodwill, than the
cup out of which he crossed himself. He then gave it into the hands of
Sir John, accompanying the present with these words: "The family shall
prosper so long as they preserve it unbroken." Hence it is called the
"Luck of Muncaster." "The benediction attached to its security," says
Roby, in his "Traditions of Lancashire," "being then uppermost in the
recollection of the family, it was considered essential to the
prosperity of the house at the time of the usurpation, that the Luck
of Muncaster should be deposited in a safe place; it was consequently
buried till the cessation of hostilities had rendered all further care
and concealment unnecessary." But, unfortunately, the person
commissioned to disinter the precious relic, let the box fall in which
it was locked up, which so alarmed the then existing members of the
family, that they could not muster courage enough to satisfy their
apprehensions. The box, therefore, according to the traditionary story
preserved in the family, remained unopened for more than forty years;
at the expiration of which period, a Pennington, more courageous than
his predecessors, unlocked the casket, and, much to the delight of
all, proclaimed the Luck of Muncaster to be uninjured. It was an
auspicious moment, for the doubts as to the cup's safety were now
dispelled, and the promise held good:
It shall bless thy bed, it shall bless thy board,
They shall prosper by this token,
In Muncaster Castle good luck shall be,
Till the charmed cup is broken.
Some things, again, have gained a strange notoriety through the force
of circumstances. A curious story is told, for instance, of a certain
iron chest in Ireland, the facts relating to which are these: In the
year 1654, Mr. John Bourne, chief trustee of the estate of John
Mallet, of Enmore, fell sick at his house at Durley, when his life was
pronounced by a physician to be in imminent danger. Within twenty-four
hours, while the doctor and Mrs. Carlisle--a relative of Mr.
Bourne--were sitting by his bedside, the doctor opened the curtains at
the bed-foot to give him air, when suddenly a great iron chest by the
window, with three locks--in which chest were all the writings and
title deeds of Mr. Mallet's estate--began to open lock by lock. The
lid of the iron chest then lifted itself up, and stood wide open. It
is added that Mr. Bourne, who had not spoken for twenty-four hours,
raised himself up in the bed, and looking at the chest, cried out,
"You say true, you say true; you are in the right; I will be with you
by and bye." He then lay down apparently in an exhausted condition,
and spoke no more. The chest lid fell again, and locked itself lock by
lock, and within an hour afterwards Mr. Bourne expired.
There is a story current of Lord Lovat that when he was born a number
of swords that hung up in the hall of the house leaped, of themselves,
out of the scabbard. This circumstance often formed the topic of
conversation, and, among his clan, was looked upon as an unfortunate
omen. By a curious coincidence, Lord Lovat was not only the last
person beheaded on Tower Hill, but was the last person beheaded in
this country--April 9, 1747--an event which Walpole has thus described
in one of his letters, telling us that he died extremely well, without
passion, affectation, buffoonery, or timidity. He professed himself a
Jansenist, made no speech, but sat down a little while in a chair on
the scaffold and talked to the people about him.
And Aubrey, relating a similar anecdote of a picture, tells us how Sir
Walter Long's widow did make a solemn promise to him on his death-bed
that she would not marry after his decease; but this she did not keep,
for "not long after, one Sir----Fox, a very beautiful young gentleman,
did win her love, so that, notwithstanding her promise aforesaid, she
married him. They were at South Wrathall, where the picture of Sir
Walter hung over the parlour door," and, on entering this room on
their return from church, the string of the picture broke, "and the
picture, which was painted on wood, fell on the lady's shoulder and
cracked in the fall. This made her ladyship reflect on her promise,
and drew some tears from her eyes."