Magazine Clipping of the Day

Mihaly Zichy, "The Ghost Hour," 1880

It's Haunted Wardrobe Week at Strange Company! While reading up on the subject of Monday's post, I came upon this similar tale from France. It appeared in "The Annals of Psychical Science," Volume 7 (1908.) It is to be noted that the Meraud family took their resident ghost in a far more blasé spirit than Mrs. Barclay.

The Progress, a Lyons daily paper, relates the following extraordinary history, not of a house, but of a haunted wardrobe. The editor of the Progress expresses his opinion on the incident in the following terms:— 

"It is a tram-ride from Lyons—a long ride, it is true—on the road to Meysieux; it is about three hundred yards from Genas' house. The straight line of the humble frontages is riddled with holes, like a sort of pattern, as is found in old ramparts. You arrive at a large farmyard—dogs yelping, fowls pecking, a hayrick, a steaming manure heap, a scullery-maid and a laundress at work on the edge of two wells, green with creepers. 

"Our arrival causes quite a commotion. Scarcely had we time to introduce ourselves to Mme. Meraud, when already the neighbours had gathered round us. The neighbours know all about the extraordinary phenomenon which was the object of our visit, and they looked as though they believed we had come to give them the key to the mystery straightway! 

"M. Meraud takes the whole affair very gaily. Blithely he gave us the following relation: 

"It is a jolly tale, if you like! I believe neither in a God nor in a devil nor in spirits; but I would cheerfully, and with right good will, pay for a good dinner to the man who could tell me who or what it is that raps in my wardrobe. 

"It is just fifteen days since it began. We were having dinner when we heard a noise as though someone had given two loud knocks on wood—tap, tap—then several quick little raps, but much feebler. 

"We went to the door, to the window: nothing, no one to be seen! A moment afterwards, again—tap, tap, tap! This time I made no mistake. The noise did not come from the door, but from the wardrobe or the wall. 

"I went and opened the wardrobe, looked all about it, and examined the wall; I sounded the wall, examined the tools, the dove's cage; I searched everywhere. Nothing! 

"About an hour afterwards, another rapping; but this time the raps sounded at longer intervals; they were more sonorous. And it lasted like that all night long, from hour to hour, until five o'clock in the morning. 

"And every night since then it goes on, sometimes loud, sometimes soft, but at regular intervals. The first tap-taps begin at ten minutes to six. Once only had we to wait until half-past seven . . . 

"Then I invited the neighbours to come. Every night the house is filled with people, and yet, in spite of that, when the hour comes, the same tapping begins in the wardrobe. I did something better still. In order to try and get at the root of the mystery, I drew the cupboard away from the wall, leaving the doors wide open; everyone stood round the wardrobe, holding it in their hands—and still that tap-tap! tap-tap-tap!—as usual! 

"The room above this is an attic. I took away everything that was in it in order to be sure that no animal was in hiding anywhere. 

"The room next to it is my daughter's. She has perceived nothing." 

"'What!' I said to the young girl, a pretty, buxom lass of seventeen, with honest, merry eyes —'What, mademoiselle, you sleep there and you are nor afraid to be all alone!' 

"Why should I be afraid? The devil or spirits would be wasting their time if they tried to stop me from sleeping." 

"'True,' said her father. 'Moreover, it can't be denied; the neighbours are here who have heard it as well as ourselves. We have looked well, we have searched everywhere — we have found nothing. It is funny, but there it is. I removed the wardrobe — it was close to the door. I put it near the staircase. Still the noise continued. The odd thing is that when we have gone to bed, there, right in our bedroom, which looks on to the street, it is no longer in the wardrobe that the tapping resounds, but in the street, against the panes of the window. I can't make it out at all.' 

"Whilst he was talking, M. Meraud showed me the bewitched wardrobe. It is a modest pine wardrobe, with two doors, full of neatly folded house-linen. I inspected the thin sides, the cornice, the bottom of the wardrobe. No trickery seemed to me possible in that very commonplace piece of furniture.  The wardrobe stands beside the wooden staircase which leads to the floor above, where, close to the attic, is the bedroom of the daughter, her young brother, and her little sister, a child of ten years. . . . 

"We enquired if these tappings were not perhaps sounds conveyed from some neighbouring workshop, or due to water pipes. 

"But, within a distance of about sixty yards, there is only a tile-kiln, which does not work at night, and it possesses no motor which can propagate such sounds. No water or gas pipes passes near the house. The cables for the tramway are more than 600 yards away. 

"Let us hasten to say that we ourselves have not observed the facts which we have just related. We have these facts only from numerous worthy eye and ear witnesses."

I would love to know if this wardrobe eventually found its way to England, where it appeared at an estate sale near Carterton Manor...

Nah. I'm guessing Ikea just makes a special line of haunted furniture.

The Case of the Haunted Wardrobe

On August 19, 1937, London's "Morning Post" carried its usual array of personals ads. One of them read: "FOR SALE--Haunted wardrobe.--Advertiser will be glad to deliver same to anybody interested, complete with ghost, which would also no doubt feel more at home if welcomed.--Write Mrs. B. Barclay, Carterton Manor, Oxon."

This caught people's eye.

Amid the flood of eager telegrams, letters, and telephone calls from would-be buyers eager to acquire their very own ghost, Mrs. Barclay found time to share the story behind her ad with inquisitive reporters. It seems that three years earlier, she visited a sale of various items at a home in Berkshire. She noticed a 7' high Victorian wardrobe. Although there was nothing remarkable about the piece, it appealed to Mrs. Barclay, and she paid £10 for it. She placed it in the guest room of her house, and life went on its usual uneventful course.

A little over two years later, she and her servants began to hear odd knocking sounds throughout the house. They were unable to find the source. Several of her houseguests tentatively commented that there was something...well, odd about the wardrobe. Throughout the night, its doors would loudly open and shut. After her guests had left, Mrs. Barclay monitored the wardrobe and found that, sure enough, those doors had a mind of their own. When she tied string around the doors, they would break their bonds and continue unabated. She thought there must be some sort of hidden mechanism causing the strange activity. However, when she tried to examine the wardrobe, one of the doors flew off, smashing a mirror. After that, she decided the thing was best left alone.

Although Mrs. Barclay was leaving the wardrobe in peace, it wasn't returning the favor. The banging noises intensified in volume and frequency. Then, she began seeing the figure of an elderly man in old-fashioned clothing and a deerstalker hat emerging from the wardrobe and walking out of the house. Her secretary and her brother saw him too.

This uninvited visitor was really beginning to get on Mrs. Barclay's nerves. As she later complained, "I am not psychic, nor am I nervous, but this wretched ghost will make such a noise. He clatters across the landing, and shuffles down the stairs, and the noise is often exasperatingly loud."

Her friends, not wishing to share a guest bedroom with a noisy ghost, began to refuse her invitations. After the spirit kicked her butler in the shins, he gave his notice and left. Her surviving household staff muttered about quitting en masse. Mrs. Barclay herself had to resort to sleeping outdoors, just to get a little quiet.

After her cook walked out on her, Mrs. Barclay--rather late in the day, one might think--realized that this damned--in every sense of the word--wardrobe just had to go. Hence the soon-to-be famous "Morning Post" ad.

After her notice appeared, Mrs. Barclay soon realized that ghosts are not the only noisy pests. She was continually harassed by ghost-hunters, self-described psychics, aggressive looky-loos, and cranks of every variety. Visitors came from as far away as America.  Morons kept themselves entertained by dressing in white sheets and prancing around her grounds. She received offers for the wardrobe from a college of astrology. From a quartet of spinsters who said they wanted the ghost to guard their house during the night. (A watchghost?) "Can you guarantee ghosts?" one message said. Another asked if the spook would be happy in a "small modern house."

Mrs. Barclay was showered with unsolicited advice from self-appointed Ghost Experts. One opined, "I should say it's doubtful if the ghost will go with the wardrobe. He shows himself to you as you are sympathetic, but he may not do so to others...Leave the door open at night so that he can come in and out, and put a nice comfortable chair beside it for him, as he clings so to the wardrobe...Never mind the cook, cooks are plentiful, but you can never get another wardrobe like this."

By now, Mrs. Barclay was desperate to just put the whole mess behind her. She sold the wardrobe--and, she sincerely hoped, the ghost as well--to a Mr. Rundle for £50. He owned an inn in nearby Clanfield, and no doubt shrewdly assumed the famed wardrobe would attract visitors. "My inn is being rebuilt," he told a reporter. "At the moment there is no room large enough for the haunted wardrobe, but I am having my own bedroom enlarged, and then I shall have it put in there. Anyone who wants to sleep in that room will be at liberty to do so. But personally, I do not believe in ghosts."

Rundle temporarily lodged his new acquisition in the rather undignified setting of an outhouse. Unfortunately, by buying the wardrobe, he also acquired the same crowd of pranksters who had so bedeviled Mrs. Barclay. Boys and young men came from miles around to hoot, catcall, throw brickbats at the outhouse, and generally raise hell.

Although Rundle maintained his skepticism about the supernatural, even he soon had to admit that this was one peculiar wardrobe. On the first night it was on his property, the doors of the wardrobe began shaking violently, from no discernible cause. His wife noticed that it sometimes emitted curious bangings and a "noise like an aeroplane."

As many of the letters sent to Mrs. Barclay had theorized that the ghost was searching for something hidden in the wardrobe, Mr. Rundle took it apart. He found nothing unusual.

Oddly enough, disassembling the wardrobe appears to have broken its curious spell. After it was put back together, the wardrobe became just another dull piece of Victorian furniture. The strange noises and shakings ceased, and the old man in the deerstalker hat was never seen by anyone ever again.

Weekend Link Dump

This week's Link Dump is brought to you by the Demon Cats of the High Seas!

What the hell is whistling in Oregon?

Watch out for those haunted lighthouses!

Watch out for those killer cameras!

Watch out for those toothsnatchers!

How Napoleon escaped from Elba.

That time Johnny Cash was nearly killed by an ostrich.

An early "Cargo Cult."

A horrific 19th century family murder.

19th century examples of animal grief.

Turns out the deepest part of the ocean is one noisy place.

A "barbarous" 18th century murder.

Damn right, crows are smart.

The strange death of the strange Nikola Tesla.

A handless, legless artist.

The Michelangelo of Caricature.

Speaking of caricature, here are some of Napoleon.

The astronomer whose mother was an accused witch.

Danish soldiers quarrel in 17th century Yorkshire.  It doesn't end well.

How Dr. Crippen wound up on the wrong end of the first modern manhunt.

There are no words, indeed.  "This is how the world ends..."

A pugilistic Hercules.

A look at Georgian romance and marriage.

How a slave came to rule an Arab sheikdom.

A Scottish noblewoman, businesswoman, and warrior.

The movie that ticked off Dwight Eisenhower.

The sound of 500-year-old English.

How murderers were once used to cure warts.

The Victorian illustrations of Kate Greenaway.

The Doll Shop Spy.

Ben Franklin, London intellectual.

The mysterious death of a 17th century female art teacher.

Benjamin Disraeli's Hughenden.

Marie Antoinette's flowers.

Pluto has a moon with stretch marks.

Photos of 1960s Moscow.

Medicine made of sunbeam and beetle wings.

The history of the Ouija board.

The Danville treasure hoax.

The more Fortean aspects of the Lindbergh kidnapping case.  (Personally, I think Hauptmann was innocent--which is perhaps the most Fortean twist of all.)

18th century VD.

A kind-hearted Scottish werewolf.

English mesmerism.

A mysterious ancient religious relic.

A new translation of the Pyramid Texts.

The tradition of Leap Year proposals.

Charles Dickens and exploding bustles.

Broadway's "worst play ever?"

Broadway's "Cat Congress."

A Napoleonic fortune-teller.

The last Viking raid.

Mrs. Tyler dreams a dream.

Date night in 1980 San Francisco.

The ghosts of Contadora.

John Dee's maddeningly magical maths.

Step into the YouTube time machine and take a tour of ancient Rome:



Sorry if you've already encountered many "Boy vomits up his own twin" stories today.

Let me also offer apologies if  "Boy has intestinal mouse" tales are old hat to you.

And, of course, you've probably seen a million "Neurian snake-hating werewolves" posts.

This Week in Russian Weird:  How about a visit to a Siberian beach?  In February?  Oh, and they're looking to nuke asteroids, too.

And, finally, the gang behind Twitter's hugely popular #FolkloreThursday hashtag recently launched a companion website!  Check it out.

And so we say farewell to this week's Link Dump.  See you on Monday, when we'll be talking haunted furniture.  In the meantime, goodbye, so long:

Newspaper Clipping of the Day

While browsing through the old newspapers, I came upon a story that sounded like the opening of a Hitchcock film. From the "San Francisco Call" for July 31, 1906:

Seattle, July 30.--Mrs. Addie Houghton last night shot an unknown man who had been annoying her for a fortnight and who finally attempted to force an entrance to her home at Ballard. The intruder was evidently shot in the arm, but managed to get away and the police have not yet been able to find him. The woman's husband is a wealthy logger and is away most of the time.

Realizing that the police may not capture her unbidden guest, Mrs. Houghton fears that the fellow may return to do her harm, and she declares:

"I will shoot him good next time."

If he is arrested the plucky young woman will prosecute him. She wants satisfaction for the two weeks of terror she suffered.

The "Call" had a chilling sequel to this story on August 30:

Seattle, Aug. 29.--Mrs. Addie Houghton who shot at a midnight intruder on two occasions at her home in Ballard, since hitting her man, who left a trail of blood in his flight, is missing.

It was during the absences of her husband, who operates a saw mill at Brinnon, Wash., that Mrs. Houghton was twice within the last month compelled to shoot to drive away an unknown man from her home at night. After the second attempt, the husband, Willard Houghton, decided to move his little family to Brinnon and a week ago purchased a home there and gave his wife sufficient money to move. He then returned to the mill.

On Thursday last, after her household effects had been packed, Mrs. Houghton sent her children to a neighbor's house to remain until she secured a drayman. She then left her home and has not been seen since. The disappearance has been reported to the police, but detectives are unable to get any trace of the woman.

James Houghton, a brother of Willard, who is a retired capitalist here, went to Brinnon today to notify the husband.

It seemed like I had found quite the sinister little mystery, so I was puzzled that I could not find any more information about Mrs. Houghton's disappearance. Finally, after a bit of digging, I came across a small item in the "Seattle Times" for November 1, 1907:

Judge John B. Yakey has signed a decree divorcing Willard Houghton from Addie Houghton. Both are residents of Bullard. The plaintiff alleged that his wife deserted him and their two children. She contended that her husband hired men to annoy her.

Earlier issues of the "Seattle Times" gave additional information about these ominous prowlers and Mrs. Houghton's disappearance. For some time Willard had wanted his wife and children to move to his lumber camp in Brinnon, but Addie disliked the idea. Mr. Houghton evidently could think of no better way to resolve the dispute than by paying men to scare her into relocating. Instead, the lady did a runner.

So, Mrs. Houghton's disappearance turned out to be no mystery, after all.

Still, I sure would like to know more about this couple. I suspect their life together must have been blog material gold.

Death at Niagara Falls

Vintage image of Luna Island

Niagara Falls resident Van Rensselaer Pearson was an emotionally troubled man, one who was perhaps even going mad. His afflicted mental state certainly led to his death. But was this death murder or suicide?

For some time, Pearson’s erratic and sometimes abusive behavior had been causing his family an increasing amount of worry, particularly after he acquired a pistol and wrote out what was in effect a will, instructing his wife how to manage his property after his death. His loved ones finally decided they must persuade him to enter a local mental institution. But in his strange, uncooperative frame of mind, how was this to be done?

On the evening of April 9, 1884, Pearson’s brother-in-law, Thomas Vedder, volunteered to discuss the issue with him. He decided to take Pearson out on a buggy ride which would give them some needed privacy. The two men rode out…and never returned.

A search party found Pearson in a local area called Luna Island, near the America Falls, dead from two bullets to his head. The weapon was not found. Also missing was Vedder, although his outer clothes were found, neatly arranged in a pile, at the brink of the Falls.

Vedder’s whereabouts remained unknown until two months later, when his body was found at the base of the Bridal Veil Falls, where presumably the current had taken it from Luna Island. No gunshot wounds were found on his body.

How did these two men meet their deaths? Pearson’s son Martin theorized that his father, enraged over the idea that he should be institutionalized, killed Vedder, perhaps by strangling, removed his clothes, and threw him into the Falls. He then shot himself, after which the gun followed Vedder into the river.

Or did the two men quarrel violently, causing Vedder to shoot Pearson in self-defense? And then, overcome by horror of what he had done, did he disrobe and hurl himself into the water?

Or was there a third party involved? Vedder was a rich man—his estate amounted to some $200,000 in 1884 dollars. Did one of his heirs take advantage of the situation by killing Vedder and the only witness to the deed?

Vedder’s clothes are hard to fit into any scenario. Vedder was described as a very methodical, business-like man, but it still seems odd that before jumping to his death—which, if he had killed Pearson, would have been an act of impulse following an unexpected tragedy--he would take the trouble to undress and tidily arrange his clothing. It makes even less sense that he was murdered, by Pearson or someone else. Why would the killer go to all the trouble of undressing the corpse before hurling it over the Falls, especially if he was only going to leave the clothes behind?

The gun used to kill Pearson is another problem. Vedder’s own gun was left at his home, and Pearson’s gun had been taken away from him two or three days earlier, due to his troubling behavior. Where did the murder weapon come from, and where did it go?

The men who first found Pearson’s body testified at the inquest that there were no signs of a struggle, or any signs of footprints leading to the water’s edge, although one mentioned footprints leading away from the scene. If so, this would tend to explode the popular theory of altercation/murder/suicide.

Some of the contemporary newspapers stated that a folded paper was found in Vedder’s coat, but its contents were never publicly disclosed. If it provided any clue to the tragedy, the authorities kept it to themselves.

As one newspaper commented after Vedder’s body was discovered, “There is still a mystery about the affair which will never be cleared up.”

How right they were.

Weekend Link Dump

This week's Link Dump is proud to be sponsored by the Fellowship of Cross-Eyed Cats!

Where the hell is the Wizard of Ladysmith?

What the hell is this ancient wall?

What the hell is falling in Michigan?

Why the hell are crows dying in Ohio?

Who the hell poisoned Olive Loomis?

Watch out for Tom Dockin!

Watch out for exploding teeth!

The Thomas Morris blog:  Come for the exploding teeth, stay for the ear teeth.

Fire at the Theatre Royal, 1809.

The folklore of the cat.

Clown funeral, anyone?

The world's oldest dress.

A ghost that smelled of death.  Which seems pretty logical, when you think of it.

The history of the Regent Diamond.

The House of Mews.  I wish there were more places like this.

"Circus Freak Lobster Boy Got Away With Murder Until He Was Killed By His Own Family."  The headline pretty much says it all, but here are the details.

Edward II vs. the Sorcerer.

Skin care, Victorian style.

An early shot in the War of the Roses:  The downfall of  Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester.

America's first great plunger.

A plot to save the French royal family.

The horrors of Georgian hair pomades.

Of Peyps, pans, and pretenders.

The dangers of trying to make your daughter Queen of England.

Wrong place, wrong time.

The bizarre kidnapping of Lady Grange.  (I covered that little Scottish domestic drama here.)

Haunted Edinburgh.

People have always been noisy.

Love letters from sailors.

This week's archaeological "Oops!"

A 19th century version of a Facebook page.

The latest from Easter Island.

"To Cure Buggs."

Helen Duncan, the last witch.

Elizabeth Hamilton was more than just Alexander's wife.

Phrenology and Abraham Lincoln.

Let's talk regimental chickens.

Let's talk Tudor underwear.

Let's talk Georgian muffs.

That time Lord Nelson got pickled.

A visit to the Tower of London ravens.

A visit to a 19th century Munich "Dead-house."

A Manchester Sherlock Holmes.

A tribute to Sir Christopher Wren.

The inspiration for Thomas Hardy's Tess.

Measuring the weight of a soul.

Be warned:  Putting a sheet over your head may be a criminal offense.

The richest man who ever lived.

A suffragette Indian princess.

A complex early 19th century murder case.

Bring on the leeches!

A stunning vintage photo of the ever-stunning Neuschwanstein Castle.


An 1880 fairy frolic.

This week in Russian Weird:  Keeping cool in Yakutsk.

And, finally, the Fortean world received some sad news this week:  Melanie Billings, co-editor of the indispensable site, The Anomalist, suddenly passed away at the age of only 42.

This wraps up yet another Link Dump.  See you on Monday, when I'll be looking at two very puzzling deaths at Niagara Falls.  In the meantime, here's Guy Clark.  I can't tell you how this song has been hitting home for me lately.

Book Clipping of the Day

In 1524, Gavin Douglas, Archbishop of Glasgow, had had enough with the "reivers" [thieves] who were gleefully wreaking havoc on both sides of the border between Scotland and England. His response to these desperados was to excommunicate every last one of them, by means of his "Great Monition of Cursing," which was preached in churches all along the Border. This magnificent work of damnation--one of the great Hymns of Hate in any language--was reproduced in George MacDonald Fraser's "The Steel Bonnets." Below is a translation into modern English, but to get the full flavor of the thing, I advise that you scroll down to the original language. The old Scots tongue was peculiarly suited to maledictions and insults of all kinds.

Good folks, here at my Lord Archbishop of Glasgow’s letters under his round seal, direct to me or any other chaplain, making mention, with great regret, how heavy he bears the piteous, lamentable, and dolorous complaint that passes all of our realm and comes to his ears, by open voice and fame, how our sovereign lords true lieges, men, wives and children, both and redeemed by the precious blood of our Saviour Jesus Christ, and living in his laws, are innocently part murdered, part slain, burnt, harried, spoiled and robbed, openly on day light and under silence of the night, and their farms and lands laid waste, and they are self banish therefore, as well church lands as others, by common traitors, reivers, thieves, dwelling in the south part of this realm, such as Teviotdale, Eskdale, Liddiesdale, Ewesdale, Nithsdale, and Annandale; which has been diverse ways pursued and punished by the temporal sword and our Sovereign Lords authority, and dreads not the same.

And therefore my said Lord Archbishop of Glasgow has thought expedient to strike them with the terrible sword of holy church, which they may not long endure and resist; and has charged me, or any other chaplain, to denounce, declare and proclaim them openly and generally cursed, at this market cross, and all other public places.

Herefore through the authority of Almighty God, the Father of Heaven, his Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ, and of the Holy Ghost; through the authority of the Blessed Virgin Saint Mary, Saint Michael, Saint Gabriel, and all his angels; Saint John the Baptist, and all the holy patriarchs and prophets; Saint Peter, Saint Paul, Saint Andrew, and all holy apostles; Saint Stephen, Saint Laurence, and all holy martyrs; Saint Gile, Saint Martin, and all holy confessors; Saint Anne, Saint Katherine, and all holy virgins and matrons; and all the saints and holy company of heaven; by the authority of our Holy Father the Pope and his cardinals, and of my said Lord Archbishop of Glasgow, with the advice and assistance of my lords, archbishop, bishops, abbots, priors, and other prelates and ministers of the holy church, I DENOUNCE, PROCLAIM, AND DECLARE all and sundry the committers of the said of innocents murders, slaughters, burning, inheritances, robbery, thefts, and spoilings, openly upon day light and under silence of night, as well as within temporal lands as church lands; together with their part takers, assisters, suppliers, knowingly and of their persons, the goods snatched and stolen by them, art or part thereof, and their counsellors and defenders, of their evil deeds generally cursed, waking, aggravated, and re-aggravated, with the great cursing.

I CURSE their head and all the hairs of their head; I CURSE their face, their eyes, their mouth, their nose, their tongue, their teeth, their skull, their shoulders, their breast, their heart, their stomach, their back, their womb, their arms, their legs, their hands, their feet, and every part of their body, from the top of their head to the sole of their feet, before and behind, within and without. I CURSE them going, and I CURSE them riding; I CURSE them standing, and I CURSE them sitting; I CURSE them eating, I CURSE them drinking; I CURSE them walking, I CURSE them sleeping; I CURSE them rising, I CURSE them lying; I CURSE them at home, I CURSE them from home; I CURSE them within the house, I CURSE them without the house; I CURSE their wives, their children and their servants who participate with them in their deeds.

I Worry their corn, their cattle, their wool, their sheep, their horse, their swine, their geese, their hens, and all their live goods. I Worry their houses, their rooms, their kitchens, their stables, their barns, their byres, their barnyards, their cabbage patches, their ploughs, their harrows, and the possessions and houses that are necessary for their sustenation and welfare. All the bad wishes and curses that ever got worldly creature since the beginning of the world to this hour might light upon them. The malediction of God, that lighted upon Lucifer and all his fellows, that struck them from the high heaven to the deep hell, might light upon them. The fire and the sword that stopped Adam from the gates of Paradise might stop them from the glory of Heaven, until they forbear and make amends. The bad wishes that lighted on cursed Cain, when he slew his brother just Abel guiltless, might light on them for the innocent slaughter that they commit daily. The malediction that lighted upon all the world, man and beast, and all that ever took life, when all were drowned by the flood of Noah, except Noah and his ark, might light upon them and drown them, man and beast, and make this realm free of them for their wicked sins. The thunder and lightning that set down as rain upon the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, with all the lands about, and burnt them for their vile sins, might rain upon them, and burn them for open sins. The bad wishes and confusion that lighted on the Gigantis for their oppression and pride, building the tour of Babylon, might confound them and all their works, for their open disregard and oppression. All the plagues that fell upon Pharaoh and his people of Egypt, their lands, corn and cattle, might fall upon them, their leases, rooms and buildings, corn and animals. The river of Tweed and other rivers where they ride might drown them, as the Red Sea drowned King Pharaoh and his people of Egypt, pursuing Gods people of Israel. The earth might open, split and cleave and swallow them alive to hell, as it swallowed cursed Dathan and Abiron, that disobeyed Moses and command of God. The wild fire that burnt Thore and his fellows to the number of two hundredth and fifty, and others 14,000 and 7,000, usurping against Moses and Aaron, servants of God, might suddenly burn and consume them daily disobeyed and commands of God and holy church.

The malediction that lights suddenly upon fair Absalom, riding contrary to his father, King David, servant of God, through the wood, when the branches of a tree knocked him off his horse and hanged him by the hair, might light upon them, untrue Scots men, and hang them suchlike that all the world may see.

The malediction that lighted upon Olifernus, lieutenant to Nebuchadnezzar’s, making war and hardships upon true Christian men; the malediction that lighted upon Judas, Pilate, Herod and the Jews that crucified Our Lord, and all the plagues and troubles that lighted on the city of Jerusalem therefore, and upon Simon Magus for his treachery, bloody Nero, cursed Ditius Magcensius, Olibrius, Julianus, Apostita and the rest of the cruel tyrants that slew and murdered Christ’s holy servants, might light upon them for their cruel tyranny and martyrdom of Christian people. And all the vengeance that ever was taken since the world began for open sins, and all the plagues and pestilence that ever fell on man or beast, might fall on them for their open evil, slaughter of guiltless and shedding of innocent blood. I SEVER and PART them from the kirk of God, and deliver them alive to the devil of hell, as the Apostle Saint Paul delivered Corinth. I exclude the places they come in for divine service, ministration of the sacraments of holy church, except the sacrament of baptising only; and forbid all churchmen to take confession or absolve them of their sins, which they be first absolved of this cursing.

I FORBID all Christian man or woman to have any company with them, eating, drinking, speaking, praying, lying, standing, or in any other deed doing, under the pain of deadly sin. I DISCHARGE all bonds, acts, contracts, oaths and obligations made to them by any persons, other of law, kindness or duty, so long as they sustain this cursing; so that no man be bound to them, and that they be bound to all men. I take from them and cry down all the good deeds that ever they did or shall do, which they rise from this cursing. I DECLARE them excluded of all matins, masses, evensongs, mourning or other prayers, on book or bead; of all pilgrimages and poorhouse deeds done or to be done in holy church or by Christian people, enduring this cursing.

And, finally, I CONDEMN them perpetually to the deep pit of hell, to remain with Lucifer and all his fellows, and their bodies to the gallows of the Burrow Muir, first to be hanged, then torn apart with dogs, swine, and other wild beasts, abominable to all the world. And their life gone from your sight, as might their souls go from the sight of God, and their good fame from the world, which they forbear their open sins aforesaid and rise from this terrible cursing, and make satisfaction and penance.

Gude folks, heir at my Archibischop of Glasgwis letters under his round sele, direct to me or any uther chapellane, makand mensioun, with greit regrait, how hevy he beris the pietous, lamentabill, and dolorous complaint that pass our all realme and commis to his eris, be oppin voce and fame, how our souverane lordis trew liegis, men, wiffis and barnys, bocht and redeimit be the precious blude of our Salviour Jhesu Crist, and levand in his lawis, are saikleslie part murdrist, part slayne, brynt, heryit, spulziet and reft, oppinly on day licht and under silens of the nicht, and thair takis and landis laid waist, and thair self banyst therfra, als wele kirklandis as utheris, be commoun tratouris, ravaris, theiffis, dulleand in the south part of this realme, sic as Tevidale, Esdale, Liddisdale, Ewisdale, Nedisdale, and Annandereaill; quhilis hes bene diverse ways persewit and punist be the temperale swerd and our Soverane Lordis auctorite, and dredis nocht the samyn.

And thairfoir my said Lord Archbischop of Glasgw hes thocht expedient to strike thame with the terribill swerd of halykirk, quhilk thai may nocht lang endur and resist; and has chargeit me, or any uther chapellane, to denounce, declair and proclame thaim oppinly and generalie cursit, at this market-croce, and all utheris public places.

Hairfor throw the auctorite of Almichty God, the Fader of hevin, his Son, our Saviour, Jhesu Crist, and of the Halygaist; throw the auctorite of the Blissit Virgin Sanct Mary, Sanct Michael, Sanct Gabriell, and all the angellis; Sanct John the Baptist, and all the haly patriarkis and prophets; Sanct Peter, Sanct Paull, Sanct Andro, and all haly appostillis; Sanct Stephin, Sanct Laurence, and all haly mertheris; Sanct Gile, Sanct Martyn, and all haly confessouris; Sanct Anne, Sanct Katherin, and all haly virginis and matronis; and of all the sanctis and haly company of hevin; be the auctorite of our Haly Fader the Paip and his cardinalis, aned of my said Lord Archibischop of Glasgw, be the avise and assistance of my lordis, archibischop, bischopis, abbotis, priouris, and utheris prelatis and minesteris of halykirk.

I denounce, proclamis, and declaris all and sindry the committaris of the said saikles murthris, slauchteris, brinying, heirchippes, reiffis, thiftis and spulezeis, oppinly apon day licht and under silence ofnicht, alswele within temporale landis as kirklandis; togither with thair partakeris, assitaris, supplearis, wittandlie resettaris of thair personis, the gudes reft and stollen be thaim, art or part thereof, and their counsalouris and defendouris, of thair evil dedis generalie CURSIT, waryit , aggregeite, and reaggregeite, with the GREIT CURSING.

I curse their heid and all the haris of thair heid; I curse thair face, thair ene, thair mouth, thair neise, thair tongue, thair teeth, thair crag, thair shoulderis, thair breist, thair hert, thair stomok, thair bak, thair wame, thair armes, thais leggis, thair handis, thair feit, and everilk part of thair body, frae the top of their heid to the soill of thair feet, befoir and behind, within and without.

I curse thaim gangand, and I curse them rydland; I curse thaim standand, and I curse thaim sittand; I curse thaim etand, I curse thaim drinkand; I curse thaim walkand, I curse thaim sleepand; I curse thaim risand, I curse thaim lyand; I curse thaim at hame, I curse thaim fra hame; I curse thaim within the house, I curse thaim without the house; I curse thair wiffis, thair barnis, and thair servandis participand with thaim in their deides. I way thair cornys, thair catales, thair woll, thair scheip, thjair horse, thair swyne, thair geise, thair hennes, and all thair quyk gude. I wary their hallis, thair chalmeris, thair kechingis, thair stanillis, thair barnys, thair biris, thair bernyardis, thair cailyardis thair plewis, thair harrowis, and the gudis and housis that is necessair for their sustentatioun and weilfair.

ll the malesouns and waresouns that ever gat warldlie creatur sen the begynnyng of the world to this hour mot licht on thaim. The maledictioun of God, that lichtit apon Lucifer and all his fallowis, that strak thaim frae the hie hevin to the deip hell, mot licht apon thaimr. The fire and the swerd that stoppit Adam far the yettis of Paradise, mot stop thaim frae the gloire of Hevin. quhill thai forbere and mak amendis. The malesound that lichtit on cursit Cayein, quhen his slew his bruther just Abell saiklessly, mot licth on thaim for the saikles slauchter that thai commit dailie. The maledictioun that lichtit apon all the warlde, man and beist, and all that ever tuk life, quhen all was drownit be the flude of Noye, except Noye and his ark, mot licht apon thame and drouned thame, man and beist, and mak this realm cummirless of thame for thair wicked synnyes. The thunnour and fireflauchtis that set doun as rane apon the cities of Zodoma and Gomora, with all the landis about, and brynt thame for thair vile sunnys, mot rane apon thame, and birne thaim for oppin synnis. Tha malesoun and confusion that lichtit on the Gigantis for thair oppressioun and pride, biggand the tour of Bablloun, mot confound thaim and all thair werkis, for thair opppin reiffs and oppressioun. All the plagis that fell apon Pharao and his pepill of Egipt, thair landis, cornse, and cataill, mot fall apon thaim, thair takkis, rowmys and stedingis, cornys and beistis. The watter of Tweid and utheris watteris quhair thair ride mot droun thaim, as the Reid Say drownit King Pharoao and his pepil of Egipt, sersewing Godis pepill of Israell. The erd mot oppin, riffe and cleiff, and swelly  thaim quyk to hell, as it swellyt cursit Dathan and Abiron, that genestude Moeses and the command of God. The wyld fyre that byrnt Thore and his fallowis to the nowmer of twa hundredth and fyty, and utheris 14000 and 7000 at anys, usurpand aganis Moyses and Aaron, servandis of God, not suddanely birne and consume thaim dailie genestandand the commandis of God and halykirk. The malediction that lichtit suddanely upon fair Absalon, rydant contrair his fader, King David, servand of God, throw the wod, quhen the branchis of ane tre fred (parted) him of his horse and hangit him be the hair, mot lie apon thaain trew Scottis men, and hang thaim siclike tha all the warld may se. The Maledictioun that lichtit apon Olifernus, lieutenant to Nabogodonooser, makand weair and heirchippis apon trew cristin men, the maledictioun that lichtit apon Judas, Pylot, Herod and the Jowis that chucifyit Our Lord, and all the plagis and trublis that lichtit on the citte of Jherusalme thairfor, and upon Simon Magus for his symony, bludy Nero, cusit Ditius Makcensisu, Olibruis, Julianus Apostita and the laiff  of the cruell tirrannis that slew and murthirit Crits haly servandis, mot licth apon thame for thair cruel tiranny and murthirdome of cristin pepill.

And all the vengeance that evir was takin sen the warlde began for oppin synnys, and all the plagis and pestilence that ever fell on man or beist, mot fall on thaim for thair oppin reiff, saiklesse slauchter and schedding of innocent blude. I disserver and pairtis thaim fra the kirk of God, and deliveris thaim quyk to the devill of hell, as the Apostill Sanct Paull deliverit Corinthion. I interdite the places thay cum in fra divine service, minitracioun of the sacramentis of halykirk, except the sacrament of baptissing allenerlie; and forbiddis all kirkmen to schriffe or absolbe thim of theire synnys, quhill they be firs abolyeit of this cursing. I forbid all cristin man or woman till have ony company with thaime, etand, drynkand, spekand, prayand, lyand, gangand, standand, or in any uther deid doand, under the paine of deidly syn. I discharge all bandis, actis, contractis, athis and obligatiounis made to them by ony persounis, outher of lawte, kyndenes or manrent, salang as thai susteined this cursing, sub that na man be bundin to thaim, and that this be bundin till all men. I tak fra thame and cryis douned all the gude dedis that ever thai did or sall do, quhill thai rise froae this cursing. I declare thaim partles of all matynys, messis, evinsangis, dirigeis or utheris prayeris, on buke or beid; of all pilgrimagis and almouse deids done or to be done in halykirk or be cristin pepill, enduring this cursing.

And, finally, I condemn thaim perpetualie to the deip pit of hell, to remain with Lucifer and all his fallowis, and thair bodeis to the gallows of the Burrow Mure, first to be hangit, syne revin and ruggit with doggis, swyne, and utheris wyld beists, abhominable to all the warld. And their candillis gangis frae your sicht, ast mot their saulis gang fra the visage of God, and thair gude faim fra the warld, quhill thai forbeir thair oppin synnys foirsaidis and ryse frae this terribill cursing, and mak satisfaction and pennance.

Awe-inspiring though the Monition of Cursing may be, anyone at all familiar with Scottish history knows that Douglas may as well have saved his breath.

[Note: In 2001, the city of Carlisle was foolhardy enough to commission a local artist to carve part of the Monition on a large rock.   The sequel should not have surprised anyone.

It no doubt pleases the ghost of the old Archbishop immensely to know the potency of his curse still lives.]