The Queen's House
Arbella Stuart's ghost may haunt The Queen's House on Tower Green.
The Governor of the Tower from 1994 to 2006 who lived in The Queen's House tells of some strange occurences at night.
Arbella Stuart married William Seymour (tne nephew of Lady Jane Grey) in 1610, without the permission of King James I. Both Arbella and William were heirs to the throne; King James regarded this marriage as a threat, and subjected Arbella to house arrest in Lambeth. William was imprisoned in the Tower.
Arbella escaped house arrest and planned to free William so that the two could flee to France. William did indeed escape the Tower, but he missed their meeting. Arbella sailed for France alone, but she was recognized and sent back to England - now, it was her turn to experience the Tower. William, the luckier of the two, escaped to France, never to see his wife again. Arbella died in 1615, in what is now The Queen’s House.
Major General Geoffrey Field, Governor of the Tower of London from 1994-2006, lived with his family in the Queen's House. He told this story:
"Soon after we’d arrived in 1994, my wife Janice was making up the bed in the Lennox room when she felt a violent push in her back which propelled her right out of the room!
"No one had warned us that the house was haunted – but we then discovered that every resident has experienced something strange in that room!
"The story goes that the ghost is that of Arbella Stuart, a cousin of James I, who was imprisoned and then possibly murdered in that bedroom.
"Several women who slept there since have reported waking in terror the middle of the night feeling they were being strangled, so just in case we made it a house rule not to give unaccompanied female guests the Lennox room."
Review Ghostly Prague
Showing posts with label london. Show all posts
Showing posts with label london. Show all posts
Monday, August 24, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
A ghostly dream
In London, towards the end of the 17th century, a murder was solved by a friend of the victim - through a series of dreams.
From An Historical, Physiological, and Psychological Treatise of Spirits, quoted in The Literature and Curiosities of Dreams (1865, v.2, ed.. Frank Seafield), by John Beaumont.
Stockden's Murder
Six dreams, dreamt late Dec. 1695-Jan.1696, by Elizabeth Greenwood.
The opening states: "Mr William Smithies, curate of St Giles's, Cripplegate, an. 1698, published an account of the robbery and murder of John Stockden, victualler in Grub Street, within the said parish, and of the discovery of the murderers by several dreams of Elizabeth, the wife of Thomas Greenwood, a neighbour of the said Stockden; an abstract of which account I give you as follows..."
"Mr. Stockden was robbed and murdered by three men, in his own house, on the 23rd of December, 1695, about midnight. A little after the murder there came a woman into the street, and said she believed one Maynard to be one of the murderers, because she was informed he was full of money, both silver and gold; upon which there was a warrant taken against him, but he could not be found.
"Soon after this, Stockden appeared to Elizabeth Greenwood in a dream, and showed her a house in Thomas Street, near 'The George,' and told her that one of the murderers lived there. She went the next morning, and took one Mary Buggas, an honest woman, who lived near her, to go with her to the place to which her dream directed, and asking for Maynard, was informed that he lodged there, but was gone abroad.
"After that, Stockden appeared again to Mrs. Greenwood, and then representing Maynard's face, with a flat mole on the side of his nose (whom she had never seen), signified to her that a wire-drawer must take him [Maynard], and that he should be carried to Newgate in a coach.
"Upon inquiry, they found that one of that trade who was his great intimate, and who, for a reward of ten pounds, promised him on his taking, undertook it, and effected it. He sent to Maynard to meet him upon extraordinary business at a public house near Hockley in the Hole, where he played with him till a constable came, who apprehended him before a magistrate, who committed him to Newgate, and he was carried thither in a coach.
"Maynard, being in prison, confessed the horrid fact, and discovered his accomplices, who were one Marsh, Bevel, and Mercer, and said that Marsh was the setter on, being a near neighbour to Stockden, who knew he was well furnished with money and plate; and although Marsh was not present at the robbery, yet he met to have a share of the booty. Marsh, knowing or suspecting that Maynard had discovered him, left his habitation.
"Stockden appeared soon after to Mrs. Greenwood, and seemed by his countenance to be displeased. He carried her to a house in Old Street, where she had never been, and showed her a pair of stairs, and told her that one of the men lodged there; and the next morning she took Mary Buggas with her to the house, according to the direction of the dream, where she asked a woman if one Marsh did not live there? To which the woman replied that he often came thither. This Marsh was taken soon in another place.
"After this, Mrs. Greenwood dreamed that Stockden carried her over the bridge, up the Borough, and into a yard, where she saw Bevel, the first criminal (whom she had never seen before), and his wife.
"Upon her relating this dream, it was believed that this was one of the prison yards, and thereupon she went with Mrs. Footman (who was Stockden's kinswoman and his housekeeper, and was gagged in the house when he was murdered) to the Marshalsea, where they inquired for Bevel, and were informed that he was lately brought thither for coining, and that he was taken near the Bankside, according to a dream which Mrs. Greenwood had before of his being there. They desired to see him, and when he came, he said to Mrs. Footman, 'Do you know me?' She replied, 'I do not.' Whereupon he went from them.
"Mrs. Greenwood then told Mrs. Footman that she was sure of his being the man whom she saw in her sleep. They then went into the cellar, where Mrs. Greenwood saw a lusty woman, and privately said to Mrs. Footman, 'That's Bevel's wife whom I saw in my sleep.' They desired that Bevel might come to them, and first put on his periwig, which was not on the time before. The lusty woman said, 'Why should you speak to my husband again, since you said you did not know him?'
"He came a second time, and said, 'Do you know me now?' Mrs. Footman replied, 'No;' but it proceeded from a sudden fear that some mischief might be done to her, who had very narrowly escaped death from him when she was gagged; and as soon as she was out of the cellar, she told Mrs. Greenwood that she then remembered him to be the man. They went soon after to the Clerk of the Peace, and procured his removal to Newgate, where he confessed the fact, and said, 'To the grief of my heart, I killed him.'
"Mrs. Greenwood did not dream anything concerning Mercer, who was a party concerned, but would not consent to the murder of Stockden, and preserved Mrs. Footman's life; nor has there been any discovery of him since, but he is escaped, and the three others were hanged.
"After the murderers were taken, Mrs. Greenwood dreamt that Stockden came to her in the street, and said, 'Elizabeth, I thank thee; the God of Heaven reward thee for what thou hast done!' Since which she has been at quiet from those frights which had so much tormented her, and caused an alteration considerable in her countenance."
From An Historical, Physiological, and Psychological Treatise of Spirits, quoted in The Literature and Curiosities of Dreams (1865, v.2, ed.. Frank Seafield), by John Beaumont.
Stockden's Murder
Six dreams, dreamt late Dec. 1695-Jan.1696, by Elizabeth Greenwood.
The opening states: "Mr William Smithies, curate of St Giles's, Cripplegate, an. 1698, published an account of the robbery and murder of John Stockden, victualler in Grub Street, within the said parish, and of the discovery of the murderers by several dreams of Elizabeth, the wife of Thomas Greenwood, a neighbour of the said Stockden; an abstract of which account I give you as follows..."
"Mr. Stockden was robbed and murdered by three men, in his own house, on the 23rd of December, 1695, about midnight. A little after the murder there came a woman into the street, and said she believed one Maynard to be one of the murderers, because she was informed he was full of money, both silver and gold; upon which there was a warrant taken against him, but he could not be found.
"Soon after this, Stockden appeared to Elizabeth Greenwood in a dream, and showed her a house in Thomas Street, near 'The George,' and told her that one of the murderers lived there. She went the next morning, and took one Mary Buggas, an honest woman, who lived near her, to go with her to the place to which her dream directed, and asking for Maynard, was informed that he lodged there, but was gone abroad.
"After that, Stockden appeared again to Mrs. Greenwood, and then representing Maynard's face, with a flat mole on the side of his nose (whom she had never seen), signified to her that a wire-drawer must take him [Maynard], and that he should be carried to Newgate in a coach.
"Upon inquiry, they found that one of that trade who was his great intimate, and who, for a reward of ten pounds, promised him on his taking, undertook it, and effected it. He sent to Maynard to meet him upon extraordinary business at a public house near Hockley in the Hole, where he played with him till a constable came, who apprehended him before a magistrate, who committed him to Newgate, and he was carried thither in a coach.
"Maynard, being in prison, confessed the horrid fact, and discovered his accomplices, who were one Marsh, Bevel, and Mercer, and said that Marsh was the setter on, being a near neighbour to Stockden, who knew he was well furnished with money and plate; and although Marsh was not present at the robbery, yet he met to have a share of the booty. Marsh, knowing or suspecting that Maynard had discovered him, left his habitation.
"Stockden appeared soon after to Mrs. Greenwood, and seemed by his countenance to be displeased. He carried her to a house in Old Street, where she had never been, and showed her a pair of stairs, and told her that one of the men lodged there; and the next morning she took Mary Buggas with her to the house, according to the direction of the dream, where she asked a woman if one Marsh did not live there? To which the woman replied that he often came thither. This Marsh was taken soon in another place.
"After this, Mrs. Greenwood dreamed that Stockden carried her over the bridge, up the Borough, and into a yard, where she saw Bevel, the first criminal (whom she had never seen before), and his wife.
"Upon her relating this dream, it was believed that this was one of the prison yards, and thereupon she went with Mrs. Footman (who was Stockden's kinswoman and his housekeeper, and was gagged in the house when he was murdered) to the Marshalsea, where they inquired for Bevel, and were informed that he was lately brought thither for coining, and that he was taken near the Bankside, according to a dream which Mrs. Greenwood had before of his being there. They desired to see him, and when he came, he said to Mrs. Footman, 'Do you know me?' She replied, 'I do not.' Whereupon he went from them.
"Mrs. Greenwood then told Mrs. Footman that she was sure of his being the man whom she saw in her sleep. They then went into the cellar, where Mrs. Greenwood saw a lusty woman, and privately said to Mrs. Footman, 'That's Bevel's wife whom I saw in my sleep.' They desired that Bevel might come to them, and first put on his periwig, which was not on the time before. The lusty woman said, 'Why should you speak to my husband again, since you said you did not know him?'
"He came a second time, and said, 'Do you know me now?' Mrs. Footman replied, 'No;' but it proceeded from a sudden fear that some mischief might be done to her, who had very narrowly escaped death from him when she was gagged; and as soon as she was out of the cellar, she told Mrs. Greenwood that she then remembered him to be the man. They went soon after to the Clerk of the Peace, and procured his removal to Newgate, where he confessed the fact, and said, 'To the grief of my heart, I killed him.'
"Mrs. Greenwood did not dream anything concerning Mercer, who was a party concerned, but would not consent to the murder of Stockden, and preserved Mrs. Footman's life; nor has there been any discovery of him since, but he is escaped, and the three others were hanged.
"After the murderers were taken, Mrs. Greenwood dreamt that Stockden came to her in the street, and said, 'Elizabeth, I thank thee; the God of Heaven reward thee for what thou hast done!' Since which she has been at quiet from those frights which had so much tormented her, and caused an alteration considerable in her countenance."
Monday, June 8, 2009
No. 50, Berkeley Square
In times past, the 18th-century house at No. 50, Berkeley Square, was known as "the most haunted house in London". A certain upstairs room had an evil reputation; it was said that nobody could spend a night in it without dying of fear or going incurably insane.
The ghosts of No. 50 are found throughout the house. The ghost of a young woman has been seen clinging to the outside of a window, screaming for help; evidently, a woman named Adeline fell from that same window in an attempt to escape her uncle, whose intentions were, to say the least, dishonorable.
Another ghost is seen upstairs. She sobs and wrings her hands. This little girl met her death at the hands of a truly sadistic servant, who either tortured or frightened her to death.
The worst ghost is the one that haunts the sinister upstairs room. One rumor has it that a previous tenant kept his insane brother in the room, only feeding him through the door due to his extremely violent nature. The ghost of this brother is said to haunt the room, as well as other areas of the house. Some reports state that the ghost is a sort of shapeless mass; others, that it is the figure of a man with his mouth gaping open. All agree that it is a horrifying sight.
In the 1870s, neighbors reported hearing loud sounds coming from the house - bells ringing, windows opening, furniture being move. When anyone investigated, the house was quiet and peaceful.
At one point in the house's history, a maid was given the haunted room as her bedroom. Not long after everyone had gone to bed, her screams sent the entire household running to her room. She was found lying on the floor, eyes bulging, and died the following day at St. George's Hospital. She could only say that what she had seen was "horrible".
30-year-old Sir Robert Warboys accepted a wager of 100 guineas that he would not be able to spend the night alone in the room. A bell was set up so that he could ring for help, if needed. The rest of the party remained in the drawing room while Sir Robert occupied the haunted room, armed with his pistol. The agreement was that Sir Robert would ring twice if he needed help.
Shortly before 2 o'clock in the morning, a faint ring of the bell was quickly followed by a loud peal. The others ran upstairs to the room, hearing a gunshot ring out. When they entered the room, Sir Robert was lying across the bed, dead, with a terrified expression on his face.
In 1872, Lord Lyttleton slept in the haunted room, with two shotguns for company. He claimed that something leaped at him from the dark, so he fired one of the guns at it. The ghost disappeared.
In the 1880s, the house's reputation still as active as ever, two sailors decided to spend the night in it, after drinking all their money. The house, not surprisingly, was empty at the time. The two of them broke in, and having found the downstairs to be unlivable, went upstairs to find a place to sleep. Of course, they settled on the haunted room.
Later that night, the two men heard the sound of bare feet mounting the stairs. There was something very sinister about the sound. The two of them watched as the footsteps approached the room, then the door opened and a horrifying specter entered. One of the sailors dodged around it and ran. Running pell-mell down the street, he cannoned into a policeman, and dragged him back to the house.
They found the body of the other sailor impaled on the railings in front of the house, underneath the window of the haunted room.
At the end of the nineteenth century, the house was owned by a man who hired an elderly couple to take care of it. They were never allowed to enter the haunted room. Every six months, the man would visit the house, lock the couple in the basement, and spend hours in the room.
No. 50 is now occupied by antiquarian booksellers. Depending on the reports you read, either no strange occurrences have happened, or a cleaning woman saw a brownish mist in one room, while an employee had his glasses snatched off his face and thrown across the room. It is said that in the 1950s, the police gave notice that the top floor of the house, which was "unsound", was not to be used for anything - not even storage. The notice is still in effect.
As an eerie footnote, one of the streets leading to Berkeley Square is Bruton Street - once the residence of the murderous Metyards (see A London Ghost).
The ghosts of No. 50 are found throughout the house. The ghost of a young woman has been seen clinging to the outside of a window, screaming for help; evidently, a woman named Adeline fell from that same window in an attempt to escape her uncle, whose intentions were, to say the least, dishonorable.
Another ghost is seen upstairs. She sobs and wrings her hands. This little girl met her death at the hands of a truly sadistic servant, who either tortured or frightened her to death.
The worst ghost is the one that haunts the sinister upstairs room. One rumor has it that a previous tenant kept his insane brother in the room, only feeding him through the door due to his extremely violent nature. The ghost of this brother is said to haunt the room, as well as other areas of the house. Some reports state that the ghost is a sort of shapeless mass; others, that it is the figure of a man with his mouth gaping open. All agree that it is a horrifying sight.
In the 1870s, neighbors reported hearing loud sounds coming from the house - bells ringing, windows opening, furniture being move. When anyone investigated, the house was quiet and peaceful.
At one point in the house's history, a maid was given the haunted room as her bedroom. Not long after everyone had gone to bed, her screams sent the entire household running to her room. She was found lying on the floor, eyes bulging, and died the following day at St. George's Hospital. She could only say that what she had seen was "horrible".
30-year-old Sir Robert Warboys accepted a wager of 100 guineas that he would not be able to spend the night alone in the room. A bell was set up so that he could ring for help, if needed. The rest of the party remained in the drawing room while Sir Robert occupied the haunted room, armed with his pistol. The agreement was that Sir Robert would ring twice if he needed help.
Shortly before 2 o'clock in the morning, a faint ring of the bell was quickly followed by a loud peal. The others ran upstairs to the room, hearing a gunshot ring out. When they entered the room, Sir Robert was lying across the bed, dead, with a terrified expression on his face.
In 1872, Lord Lyttleton slept in the haunted room, with two shotguns for company. He claimed that something leaped at him from the dark, so he fired one of the guns at it. The ghost disappeared.
In the 1880s, the house's reputation still as active as ever, two sailors decided to spend the night in it, after drinking all their money. The house, not surprisingly, was empty at the time. The two of them broke in, and having found the downstairs to be unlivable, went upstairs to find a place to sleep. Of course, they settled on the haunted room.
Later that night, the two men heard the sound of bare feet mounting the stairs. There was something very sinister about the sound. The two of them watched as the footsteps approached the room, then the door opened and a horrifying specter entered. One of the sailors dodged around it and ran. Running pell-mell down the street, he cannoned into a policeman, and dragged him back to the house.
They found the body of the other sailor impaled on the railings in front of the house, underneath the window of the haunted room.
At the end of the nineteenth century, the house was owned by a man who hired an elderly couple to take care of it. They were never allowed to enter the haunted room. Every six months, the man would visit the house, lock the couple in the basement, and spend hours in the room.
No. 50 is now occupied by antiquarian booksellers. Depending on the reports you read, either no strange occurrences have happened, or a cleaning woman saw a brownish mist in one room, while an employee had his glasses snatched off his face and thrown across the room. It is said that in the 1950s, the police gave notice that the top floor of the house, which was "unsound", was not to be used for anything - not even storage. The notice is still in effect.
As an eerie footnote, one of the streets leading to Berkeley Square is Bruton Street - once the residence of the murderous Metyards (see A London Ghost).
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Newgate Prison
If any place should be haunted, a prison is a likely candidate. Newgate, dating to Roman times, was torn down in 1901 to create room for the Central Criminal Court. Newgate was said to be haunted by a Black Dog, of which the first written mention is dated 1596, though it was known in folklore long before that time. An indistinct, yet horrifying, shape was seen to crawl along the wall (also dating to Roman times) that once separated the prison from Amen Court. On the side of the wall where Newgate once stood, a narrow pathway led from the prison to quicklime pits, where the bodies of the executed were buried. Not surprisingly, it was dubbed "Dead Man's Walk".
A Mr. Scott, once Chief Warder of Newgate, had a grim story to tell of a haunting in the prison. He was one of those present at the hanging of Amelia Dyer on June 10, 1896. Mrs. Dyer was a "baby farmer", a woman who offered to take care of children born out of wedlock so that their mothers could escape disgrace. A fee was involved for this "service", and Dyer insisted on full payment up front. She then murdered the babies entrusted to her care; she avoided detection (despite many close calls) for many years before her crimes caught up to her.
As Mrs. Dyer was taken to the scaffold, she looked at Mr. Scott and said in a low voice, "I'll meet you again, sir."
Not long before Newgate was closed permanently, several of the warders gathered to share a bottle of whiskey, celebrating the end of their employment in the prison. The room where they held the little party was next to the Women Felons Yard. A door, with a window in it, led to the yard. Scott became aware that someone was watching him, and the words "Meet you again some day, sir," echoed through his head.
He looked towards the door, and saw Mrs. Dyer's unmistakable face in the window. She looked at Scott for a moment, then left. Scott quickly opened the door, and saw nothing... except a woman's handkerchief, which floated to the ground at his feet.
There were no female prisoners at the prison at that time, and there had been none for several years.
When Scott was photographed outside the execution shed, Mrs. Dyer's face appeared over his shoulder in the print.
A Mr. Scott, once Chief Warder of Newgate, had a grim story to tell of a haunting in the prison. He was one of those present at the hanging of Amelia Dyer on June 10, 1896. Mrs. Dyer was a "baby farmer", a woman who offered to take care of children born out of wedlock so that their mothers could escape disgrace. A fee was involved for this "service", and Dyer insisted on full payment up front. She then murdered the babies entrusted to her care; she avoided detection (despite many close calls) for many years before her crimes caught up to her.
As Mrs. Dyer was taken to the scaffold, she looked at Mr. Scott and said in a low voice, "I'll meet you again, sir."
Not long before Newgate was closed permanently, several of the warders gathered to share a bottle of whiskey, celebrating the end of their employment in the prison. The room where they held the little party was next to the Women Felons Yard. A door, with a window in it, led to the yard. Scott became aware that someone was watching him, and the words "Meet you again some day, sir," echoed through his head.
He looked towards the door, and saw Mrs. Dyer's unmistakable face in the window. She looked at Scott for a moment, then left. Scott quickly opened the door, and saw nothing... except a woman's handkerchief, which floated to the ground at his feet.
There were no female prisoners at the prison at that time, and there had been none for several years.
When Scott was photographed outside the execution shed, Mrs. Dyer's face appeared over his shoulder in the print.
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