"There is at Curraghmore, the seat of Lord Waterford, in Ireland, amanuscript account of the tale, such as it was originally received andimplicitly believed in by the children and grandchildren of the ladyto whom Lord Tyrone is supposed to have made the supernaturalappearance after death. The account was written by Lady Betty Cobbe,the youngest daughter of Marcus, Earl of Tyrone, and granddaughter ofNicola S., Lady Beresford. She lived to a good old age, in full useof all her faculties, both of body and mind. I can myself rememberher, for when a boy I passed through Bath on a journey with my mother,and we went to her house there, and had luncheon. She appeared to myjuvenile imagination a very appropriate person to revise and transmitsuch a tale, and fully adapted to do ample justice to her subject-matter. It never has been doubted in the family that she received thefull particulars in early life, and that she heard the circumstances,such as they were believed to have occurred, from the nearestrelatives of the two persons, the supposed actors in this mysteriousinterview, viz., from her own father, Lord Tyrone, who died in 1763,and from her aunt, Lady Riverston, who died in 1763 also."These two were both with their mother, Lady Beresford, on the day ofher decease, and they, without assistance or witness, took off fromtheir parent's wrist the black bandage which she had always worn onall occasions and times, even at Court, as some very old persons wholived well into the eighteenth century testified, having receivedtheir information from eyewitnesses of the fact. There was an oilpainting of this lady in Tyrone House, Dublin, representing her with ablack ribbon bound round her wrist. This portrait disappeared in anunaccountable manner. It used to hang in one of the drawing-rooms inthat mansion, with other family pictures. When Henry, Marquis ofWaterford, sold the old town residence of the family and its groundsto the Government as the site of the Education Board, he directed Mr.Watkins, a dealer in pictures, and a man of considerable knowledge inworks of art and vertu, to collect the pictures, etc., etc., whichwere best adapted for removal to Curraghmore. Mr. Watkins especiallypicked out this portrait, not only as a good work of art, but as onewhich, from its associations, deserved particular care and notice.When, however, the lot arrived at Curraghmore and was unpacked, nosuch picture was found; and though Mr. Watkins took great pains andexerted himself to the utmost to trace what had become of it, to thisday (nearly forty years), not a hint of its existence has beenreceived or heard of."John le Poer, Lord Decies, was the eldest son of Richard, Earl ofTyrone, and of Lady Dorothy Annesley, daughter of Arthur, Earl ofAnglesey. He was born 1665, succeeded his father 1690, and died 14thOctober, 1693. He became Lord Tyrone at his father's death, and isthe 'ghost' of the story."Nicola Sophie Hamilton was the second and youngest daughter and co-heiress of Hugh, Lord Glenawley, who was also Baron Lunge in Sweden.Being a zealous Royalist, he had, together with his father, migratedto that country in 1643, and returned from it at the Restoration. Hewas of a good old family, and held considerable landed property in thecounty Tyrone, near Ballygawley. He died there in 1679. His eldestdaughter and co-heiress, Arabella Susanna, married, in 1683, Sir JohnMacgill, of Gill Hall, in the county Down."Nicola S. (the second daughter) was born in 1666, and married SirTristram Beresford in 1687. Between that and 1693 two daughters wereborn, but no son to inherit the ample landed estates of his father,who most anxiously wished and hoped for an heir. It was under thesecircumstances, and at this period, that the manuscripts state thatLord Tyrone made his appearance after death; and all the versions ofthe story, without variation, attribute the same cause and reason,viz., a solemn promise mutually interchanged in early life betweenJohn le Poer, then Lord Decies, afterwards Lord Tyrone, and Nicola S.Hamilton, that whichever of the two died the first, should, ifpermitted, appear to the survivor for the object of declaring theapproval or rejection by the Deity of the revealed religion asgenerally acknowledged: of which the departed one must be fullycognisant, but of which they both had in their youth entertainedunfortunate doubts."In the month of October, 1693, Sir Tristram and Lady Beresford wenton a visit to her sister, Lady Macgill, at Gill Hall, now the seat ofLord Clanwilliam, whose grandmother was eventually the heiress of SirJ. Macgill's property. One morning Sir Tristram rose early, leavingLady Beresford asleep, and went out for a walk before breakfast. Whenhis wife joined the table very late, her appearance and theembarrassment of her manner attracted general attention, especiallythat of her husband. He made anxious inquiries as to her health, andasked her apart what had occurred to her wrist, which was tied up withblack ribbon tightly bound round it. She earnestly entreated him notto inquire more then, or thereafter, as to the cause of her wearing orcontinuing afterwards to wear that ribbon; 'for,' she added, 'you willnever see me without it'. He replied, 'Since you urge it sovehemently, I promise you not to inquire more about it'."After completing her hurried breakfast she made anxious inquiries asto whether the post had yet arrived. It had not yet come in; and SirTristram asked: 'Why are you so particularly eager about letters to-day?' 'Because I expect to hear of Lord Tyrone's death, which tookplace on Tuesday.' 'Well,' remarked Sir Tristram, 'I never shouldhave put you down for a superstitious person; but I suppose that someidle dream has disturbed you.' Shortly after, the servant brought inthe letters; one was sealed with black wax. 'It is as I expected,'she cries; 'he is dead.' The letter was from Lord Tyrone's steward toinform them that his master had died in Dublin, on Tuesday, 14thOctober, at 4 p.m. Sir Tristram endeavoured to console her, andbegged her to restrain her grief, when she assured him that she feltrelieved and easier now that she knew the actual fact. She added, 'Ican now give you a most satisfactory piece of intelligence, viz., thatI am with child, and that it will be a boy'. A son was born in thefollowing July. Sir Tristram survived its birth little more than sixyears. After his death Lady Beresford continued to reside with heryoung family at his place in the county of Derry, and seldom went fromhome. She hardly mingled with any neighbours or friends, exceptingwith Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, of Coleraine. He was the principalpersonage in that town, and was, by his mother, a near relative of SirTristram. His wife was the daughter of Robert Gorges, LL.D. (agentleman of good old English family, and possessed of a considerableestate in the county Meath), by Jane Loftus, daughter of Sir AdamLoftus, of Rathfarnham, and sister of Lord Lisburn. They had an onlyson, Richard Gorges, who was in the army, and became a general officervery early in life. With the Jacksons Lady Beresford maintained aconstant communication and lived on the most intimate terms, while sheseemed determined to eschew all other society and to remain in herchosen retirement."At the conclusion of three years thus passed, one luckless day "YoungGorges" most vehemently professed his passion for her, and solicitedher hand, urging his suit in a most passionate appeal, which wasevidently not displeasing to the fair widow, and which, unfortunatelyfor her, was successful. They were married in 1704. One son and twodaughters were born to them, when his abandoned and dissolute conductforced her to seek and to obtain a separation. After this hadcontinued for four years, General Gorges pretended extreme penitencefor his past misdeeds, and with the most solemn promises of amendmentinduced his wife to live with him again, and she became the mother ofa second son. The day month after her confinement happened to be herbirthday, and having recovered and feeling herself equal to someexertion, she sent for her son, Sir Marcus Beresford, then twentyyears old, and her married daughter, Lady Riverston. She also invitedDr. King, the Archbishop of Dublin (who was an intimate friend), andan old clergyman who had christened her, and who had always kept up amost kindly intercourse with her during her whole life, to make up asmall party to celebrate the day."In the early part of it Lady Beresford was engaged in a kindlyconversation with her old friend the clergyman, and in the course ofit said: 'You know that I am forty-eight this day'. 'No, indeed,' hereplied; 'you are only forty-seven, for your mother had a dispute withme once on the very subject of your age, and I in consequence sent andconsulted the registry, and can most confidently assert that you areonly forty-seven this day.' 'You have signed my death-warrant, then,'she cried; 'leave me, I pray, for I have not much longer to live, buthave many things of grave importance to settle before I die. Send myson and my daughter to me immediately.' The clergyman did as he wasbidden. He directed Sir Marcus and his sister to go instantly totheir mother; and he sent to the archbishop and a few other friends toput them off from joining the birthday party."When her two children repaired to Lady Beresford, she thus addressedthem: 'I have something of deep importance to communicate to you, mydear children, before I die. You are no strangers to the intimacy andthe affection which subsisted in early life between Lord Tyrone andmyself. We were educated together when young, under the same roof, inthe pernicious principles of Deism. Our real friends afterwards tookevery opportunity to convince us of our error, but their argumentswere insufficient to overpower and uproot our infidelity, though theyhad the effect of shaking our confidence in it, and thus leaving uswavering between the two opinions. In this perplexing state of doubtwe made a solemn promise one to the other, that whichever died firstshould, if permitted, appear to the other for the purpose of declaringwhat religion was the one acceptable to the Almighty. One night,years after this interchange of promises, I was sleeping with yourfather at Gill Hall, when I suddenly awoke and discovered Lord Tyronesitting visibly by the side of the bed. I screamed out, and vainlyendeavoured to rouse Sir Tristram. "Tell me," I said, "Lord Tyrone,why and wherefore are you here at this time of the night?" "Have youthen forgotten our promise to each other, pledged in early life? Idied on Tuesday, at four o'clock. I have been permitted thus toappear in order to assure you that the revealed religion is the trueand only one by which we can be saved. I am also suffered to informyou that you are with child, and will produce a son, who will marry myheiress; that Sir Tristram will not live long, when you will marryagain, and you will die from the effects of childbirth in your forty-seventh year." I begged from him some convincing sign or proof sothat when the morning came I might rely upon it, and feel satisfiedthat his appearance had been real, and that it was not the phantom ofmy imagination. He caused the hangings of the bed to be drawn in anunusual way and impossible manner through an iron hook. I still wasnot satisfied, when he wrote his signature in my pocket-book. Iwanted, however, more substantial proof of his visit, when he laid hishand, which was cold as marble, on my wrist; the sinews shrunk up, thenerves withered at the touch. "Now," he said, "let no mortal eye,while you live, ever see that wrist," and vanished. While I wasconversing with him my thoughts were calm, but as soon as hedisappeared I felt chilled with horror and dismay, a cold sweat cameover me, and I again endeavoured but vainly to awaken Sir Tristram; aflood of tears came to my relief, and I fell asleep."'In the morning your father got up without disturbing me; he had notnoticed anything extraordinary about me or the bed-hangings. When Idid arise I found a long broom in the gallery outside the bedroomdoor, and with great difficulty I unhooded the curtain, fearing thatthe position of it might excite surprise and cause inquiry. I boundup my wrist with black ribbon before I went down to breakfast, wherethe agitation of my mind was too visible not to attract attention.Sir Tristram made many anxious inquiries as to my health, especiallyas to my sprained wrist, as he conceived mine to be. I begged him todrop all questions as to the bandage, even if I continued to adopt itfor any length of time. He kindly promised me not to speak of it anymore, and he kept his promise faithfully. You, my son, came into theworld as predicted, and your father died six years after. I thendetermined to abandon society and its pleasures and not mingle againwith the world, hoping to avoid the dreadful predictions as to mysecond marriage; but, alas! in the one family with which I heldconstant and friendly intercourse I met the man, whom I did not regardwith perfect indifference. Though I struggled to conquer by everymeans the passion, I at length yielded to his solicitations, and in afatal moment for my own peace I became his wife. In a few years hisconduct fully justified my demand for a separation, and I fondly hopedto escape the fatal prophecy. Under the delusion that I had passed myforty-seventh birthday, I was prevailed upon to believe in hisamendment, and to pardon him. I have, however, heard from undoubtedauthority that I am only forty-seven this day, and I know that I amabout to die. I die, however, without the dread of death, fortifiedas I am by the sacred precepts of Christianity and upheld by itspromises. When I am gone, I wish that you, my children, should unbindthis black ribbon and alone behold my wrist before I am consigned tothe grave.'"She then requested to be left that she might lie down and composeherself, and her children quitted the apartment, having desired herattendant to watch her, and if any change came on to summon them toher bedside. In an hour the bell rang, and they hastened to the call,but all was over. The two children having ordered every one toretire, knelt down by the side of the bed, when Lady Riverston unboundthe black ribbon and found the wrist exactly as Lady Beresford haddescribed it--every nerve withered, every sinew shrunk."Her friend, the Archbishop, had had her buried in the Cathedral ofSt. Patrick, in Dublin, in the Earl of Cork's tomb, where she nowlies."* * * * *The writer now professes his disbelief in any spiritual presence, andexplains his theory that Lady Beresford's anxiety about Lord Tyronedeluded her by a vivid dream, during which she hurt her wrist.Of all ghost stories the Tyrone, or Beresford Ghost, has mostvariants. Following Monsieur Haureau, in the Journal des Savants, Ihave tracked the tale, the death compact, and the wound inflicted bythe ghost on the hand, or wrist, or brow, of the seer, through HenryMore, and Melanchthon, and a mediaeval sermon by Eudes de Shirton, toWilliam of Malmesbury, a range of 700 years. Mrs. Grant of Laggan hasa rather recent case, and I have heard of another in the last tenyears! Calmet has a case in 1625, the spectre leavesThe sable score of fingers fouron a board of wood.Now for a modern instance of a gang of ghosts with a purpose!When I narrated the story which follows to an eminent moralphilosopher, he remarked, at a given point, "Oh, the ghost _spoke_,did she?" and displayed scepticism. The evidence, however, left him,as it leaves me, at a standstill, not convinced, but agreeablyperplexed. The ghosts here are truly old-fashioned.My story is, and must probably remain, entirely devoid of proof, asfar as any kind of ghostly influence is concerned. We find ghostsappearing, and imposing a certain course of action on a livingwitness, for definite purposes of their own. The course of actionprescribed was undeniably pursued, and apparently the purpose of theghosts was fulfilled, but what that purpose was their agent declinesto state, and conjecture is hopelessly baffled.The documents in the affair have been published by the Society forPsychical Research (Proceedings, vol. xi., p. 547), and are here usedfor reference. But I think the matter will be more intelligible if Inarrate it exactly as it came under my own observation. The names ofpersons and places are all fictitious, and are the same as those usedin the documents published by the S.P.R.
