Strange Pages from Family Papers | Page 8

daughters and no
son.
The custom of the annual doles was observed for six hundred years on
every 25th of March, until--owing to the complaints of the magistrates
and local gentry that vagabonds, gipsies, and idlers of every description
swarmed into the neighbourhood, under the pretence of receiving the
dole--it was discontinued in the year 1796. Strangely enough, Sir Henry
Tichborne, the baronet of that day, had issue seven sons, and his eldest
son, who succeeded him, had seven daughters and no son. The
prophecy was apparently completed by the change of name of the
possessors of the estate to Doughty, in the person of Sir Edward
Doughty, who had assumed the name under the will of a relative from
whom he inherited certain property. Finally, it may be added, "the
Claimant" appeared, and instituted one of the most costly lawsuits ever
tried, in which the Tichborne estate was put to an expense of close
upon one hundred thousand pounds!
But, occasionally, the effect of a family curse, through the
misappropriation of property, has been more sweeping and speedy in
its retribution, as in the case of Furvie or Forvie, which now forms part
of the parish of Slains, Scotland--much, if not most of it, being covered
with sand. The popular account of the downfall of this parish tells how,
in times gone by, the proprietor to whom it belonged left three

daughters as heirs of his fair lands; who were, however, most unjustly
bereft of their property, and thrown homeless on the world. On quitting
their home--their legal heritage--they uttered a terrible curse, which
was quickly accomplished, and was considered an unmistakable sign of
Divine displeasure at the wrong they had received. Before many days
had elapsed, a storm of almost unparalleled violence--lasting nine
days--burst over the district, and transformed the parish of Forvie into a
desert of sand;--a calamity which is said to have befallen the district
about the close of the 17th century. In this way, many local traditions
account for the ruined and desolate condition of certain wild and
uninhabited spots. Ettrick Hall, for instance, near the head of Ettrick
Water, had such a history. On and around its site in former days there
was a considerable village, and "as late as the Revolution, it contained
no fewer than fifty-three fine houses." But about the year 1700, when
the numbers in this little village were still very considerable, James
Anderson, a member of the Tushielaw family, pulled down a number of
small cottages, leaving many of the tenants--some of whom were aged
and infirm--homeless. It was in vain that these poor people appealed to
him for a little merciful consideration, for he refused to lend an ear to
their complaints, and in a short time a splendid house was built on the
property, known as Ettrick Hall. What was considered by the
inhabitants far and wide as an act of cruel injustice incurred its own
punishment, for a prophetic rhyme was about the same period made on
it, by whom nobody could tell, and which, says James Hogg, writing in
the year 1826, has been most wonderfully verified:
Ettrick Hall stands on yon plain,
Right sore exposed to wind and rain;

And on it the sun shines never at morn,
Because it was built in the
widow's corn;
And its foundations can never be sure,
Because it
was built on the ruin of the poor.
And or an age is come and gane,

Or the trees o'er the chimly-taps grow green,
We kinna wen where the
house has been.
The curse that alighted on this fair mansion at length accomplished its
destructive work, because nowadays there is not a vestige of it
remaining, nor has there been for these many years; indeed, so
complete was the collapse of this ill-fated house, that its site could only

be identified by the avenue and lanes of trees; while many clay cottages,
on the other hand, which were built previously, long remained intact.
Equally fatal, also, was the curse uttered against the old persecuting
family of Home of Cowdenknowes--a place in the immediate
neighbourhood of St. Thomas's Castle.
Vengeance, vengeance! When and where?
Upon the house of
Cowdenknowes, now and evermair!
This anathema, awful as the cry of blood, is generally said to have been
realised in the extinction of the family and the transference of their
property to other hands. But some doubt, writes Mr. Robert
Chambers,[3] seems to hang on the matter, "as the Earl of Home--a
prosperous gentleman--is the lineal descendant of the Cowdenknowes
branch of the family which acceded to the title in the reign of Charles I.,
though, it must be admitted, the estate has long been alienated."
Love and marriage, again, have been associated with many
imprecations, one of which dates as far back as the time of Edmund,
King of the East Angles,