The Samlesbury Hall Haunting

Why not take a pew, a cup of tea and read the incredible and say unique history of one of the country’s most haunted locations – Samlesbury Hall near Preston.

Like many other ancient houses Samlesbury Hall is said to be haunted. It is impossible to say when this belief originated but it was probably first written down by T. T. Wilkinson in 1875 in his “Legends and Traditions of Lancashire”

“Tradition states that during his [Sir John, died 1595] later years one of his daughters had formed an intimate acquaintance with the heir of a neighbouring knightly house. The attachment was mutual, and nothing was wanting to complete their happiness except the consent of the lady’s father.

Sir John was thereupon consulted, but the tale of their devoted attachment only served to increase his rage, and he dismissed the supplicants with the most bitter denunciations. “No daughter of his should ever be united to the son of a family which had deserted its ancestral faith,” and he forebade the youth his presence for ever.

Difficulty, however, only served to increase the ardour of the devoted lovers, and after many secret interviews along the wooded slopes of the Ribble, an elopement was agreed upon, in hope that time would bring her father’s pardon. The day and place were unfortunately overheard by one of the lady’s brothers, who was hiding in a thicket close by, and he determined to prevent what he considered his sister’s disgrace.

On the evening agreed upon, both parties met at the place appointed, and as the young knight moved away with his betrothed, her brother rushed from his hiding place and slew both him and his two friends by whom he was accompanied.

The bodies were secretly buried within the precincts of the domestic chapel at the Hall, and Lady Dorothy was sent abroad to a convent, where she was kept under strict surveillance. Her mind at last gave way. The name of her murdered lover was ever on her lips, and she died a raving maniac.

Some years ago three human skeletons were found near the walls of the Hall, and popular opinion has connected them with the tradition.

The legend also states that on certain clear still evenings a lady in white can be seen passing along the grounds; that she meets there a handsome knight who receives her on his bended knee, and he then accompanies her along the walks. On arriving at a certain spot, most probably the lover’s grave, both phantoms stand still and as they seem to utter soft wailings of despair they embrace each other, and then the forms rise slowly from the east and melt away into the clear blue of the surrounding sky.”

The Samlesbury historian Robert Eaton, in his booklets “Stories of Samlesbury” published some years ago gives several instances of reports of the apparition – “The Northern Daily Telegraph of February 4th, 1926, quoting a recent issue of the London Morning Post in which was printed a letter by an elderly Colonel, formerly a subaltern in the 15th Yorks East Riding Regiment, states:

“He [the colonel] was sent with a company of soldiers to garrison Samlesbury Hall in 1878, during the Lancashire cotton riots, and was given a bedroom in a long corridor overlooking the front garden (courtyard).

In the early morning (the writer states) he was awakened by someone crying most bitterly, and having made a vain search to discover the cause returned to bed concluding that someone in a room above his own was in pain.

At breakfast he related his experience to his host and hostess, who exchanged significant glances and then related the story of the ghost of Samlesbury Hall as follows:

‘In the reign of Henry VIII the Hall belonged to the Catholic family of Southworth and the daughter of the house arranged to elope with young de Hoghton of the nearby Tower, who had rejected the family faith by becoming a Protestant.

The plan of elopement became known, old Southworth and his men ambushed de Hoghton and killed him and his attendant, beneath Miss Southworth’s window. She saw it happen, threw herself out and was killed also.

Ever since she has been said to haunt the corridor in a white dress, weeping and wailing. “In recent times when alterations were being made the skeletons of two men were found buried beneath the corridor windows.”‘ [This last sentence is in quotation marks in the original. Presumably Eaton is indicating a quote from the original work of Wilkinson].

In a later story Eaton cites a Mr.Abram Sharples of Samlesbury, who died aged 73 in 1926. Eaton writes -

“Mr. Sharples on the night of February 7th that year related the following:

He was employed as a youth by Mr. Wm. Harrison, who with his sister Miss Harrision resided at Samlesbury Hall up to May, 1879.

During an excavation for a land drain, probably about 1870 for the South West or Preston side, he and a workman named Jacob Baron unexpectedly broke into an enclosed brick chamber lying just outside the garden wall. The interior being inspected, the remains of two human bodies were found, which soon fell away to little more than bones and hair.

Mr. Harrison caused the vault to be repaired, cleaned and limewashed, the remains replaced and the vault sealed up.

Mr. Sharples was also asked if he could remember the cotton riots of 1878.

He said that during these disturbances Samlesbury Hall was occupied by 50 soldiers and an officer, together with 20 police and an inspector.

The soldiers and police found shelter under the spacious carriage shed in the yard, whilst the officer and inspector of police were lodged in the house, their hosts being Mr. William Harrison and his sister Miss Harrison.

The officer mentioned by Mr. Sharples is without question the elderly colonel who writes such an interesting letter to the Morning Post, February, 1926.”

Such then seems to be the basic legend and its earliest recordings.

Other experiences, since then, only seem to go back as far as 1925. Eaton, in the same ‘Stories of Samlesbury’ booklet writes, in a story called “A Hot-Pot Supper.”, the following -

“In November of 1925, a hot pot supper was held in the armorial room, to celebrate the recent purchase of this fine old manor house. When the tables had been cleared the party formed themselves into a cosy cordon around the aromatic wood fire.

Feeble lights struggled bravely to pierce the gloom of the distant recesses, and white wood ashes falling on the hearth formed or hinted curious shapes, whilst various members of the party in turn entertained the others in song, recital or story. Dr. S. Davies, Master of the Blackburn Society of Antiquaries, read from “Pickwick Papers” that fine ghost story ‘Tale told by a bagman’ and another told of ‘Syke’s Lumb and the pots of money’.

A lady then related her experiences of some years previously when staying in Balderstone. She was recuperating after a rather prolonged illness, staying at a house in Balderstone, where only the width of the turnpike road separated Samlesbury from the former township.

One evening at the edge of dark, she, with her hostess, went to fetch milk from a farmhouse over the road in Samlesbury.

They seated themselves on the spindle backed rush bottomed chairs, in the gloom of the living room, where, second by second, the grandfather clock ticked ominously and unseen in its dark corner.

The bread flake with its festoons of brittle oat cakes drooped from the gnarled ceiling beams, and the flameless glow of a sinking fire showed the andirons in black relief as the old farmer, who lived in solitary seclusion, went into the dairy to fill the jug with milk.

Whilst they waited in motionless silence she noticed near a long cushioned squab in another room – its door being ajar – a moving shadowy figure, which on more intent observation resolved itself into the form of a somewhat tall and slightly built lady with long, flowing hair, dressed all in white and in the fashion of bygone days.

At first the observer thought it might be the reflection of herself, as she wore a white gown, but no, this lady was standing, whereas she was seated, and again the old-world air was there, the quaint old-fashioned gown, and the air of mystery. Her wondering meditations were disturbed by the return of the old farmer with a brimming jug of milk, and the two ladies with a ‘good-night’ left for home.

As soon as they were well outside, the one said to her hostess, “I thought old Mr. (calling him by name) lived by himself”. “Well, so he does and has for many years,” was the reply. “But is there no one staying with him at all?” “No,” was the answer, “Of that I am sure.”

Then the first lady remembered the unusual dress, the unbraided hair, the apparent youth and faintness of the figure, and she began to wonder! wonder!! what she had seen.

There was a hushed silence as the lady finished her story, and several of those present began to think it just possible that Samlesbury’s White Lady after 300 years had come once again to the lonely farmhouse to meet her lover, where the jealous vindictive eyes of her father and brothers might be avoided.

The above extremely old farm house, formerly named “Cobblers” and by the Harrison’s re-named “Collin’s Bridge”, along with its twenty acres or thereabouts was acquired for inclusion in the Samlesbury aerodrome site. The old farm buildings are now razed to the earth.”

In his booklet Stories of Samlesbury, Robert Eaton, the Samlesbury historian, tells of another encounter in 1940. This is called “The Janitor’s Story”.

“On the night of January 10th 1940, it then being the period of dark moon, the present resident caretaker, Mr. Edward Smith, together with a male friend, sat in vigil near the rails of the staircase landing on the upper floor in Samlesbury Hall.

They sat with their backs towards the gallery of the Southworth chapel in the rear centre of the room. From this position, all the length of the apartment with the sole exception of the width taken up by the staircase, and landing just behind them, would be easily observed.

For several nights prior to the above date, these two men had made it their business to take up the positions described, for the express purpose of determining for themselves whether any hauntings took place, and if there were any substratum of truth in the legends attached to this old manor house.

As they sat in the silent and eerie gloom of this magnificent barrel-ceiled room with its many traditions of long past days, stories of these old times rose in their minds.

Here once dwelt men who fought in the English army at Harfleur and Agincourt. From Samlesbury went pikemen and archers to fight under their own lord at Flodden in 1513, and in the year 1581 the unflinching Sir John Southworth was incarcerated at the New Fleet prison, Manchester for a period of three years, because of his religious pertinacity. The watchers sat in chairs in the position already indicated, but with diminishing hopes of determining for themselves whether there was any basis of truth in the old stories.

It was now half past eleven, and so far nothing exceptional had happened; only thirty minutes before midnight. The clock ticked on for another interminable fifteen minutes, when Mr. Smith was startled by a fierce clutch on his left arm, and he turned sharply round to his companion.

It was now apparent to him why his arm had been seized with such force, for just to the left, and coming from the direction of the chapel gallery was a slight grey wraith-like form, passing noiselessly along the side of the walls towards the great fireplace in the centre of the western wall.

Here the figure seemed to halt for a moment and finally disappear – dissolve before their eyes. Waiting for a few moments to regain control of their emotions a close examination was made of the fireplace and chimney, but nothing exceptional was found, neither were the voluntary late sittings prolonged to any succeeding night.”

Still in the same booklet Eaton recounts another story, “Pioneer Corps at Samlesbury Hall”, which reads -

“A short time before the incidence of the present [1939-45] war, a large area of ground in Samlesbury, and sometime later, a smaller portion of land in the adjoining township of Balderston were purchased, conjointly, by the Corporations of Blackburn and Preston.

Transport by air was getting more and still more to be the probable and general means of individual and commercial conveyance, especially over long distances, and advantage was seized so as to ensure air travel facilities near these two towns. After war was declared by this country on Germany, the third of September, 1939, the advantages of the above named site for aeroplane manufacture and flight testing were instantly seen, and so the site initially intended as a commercial air-ways station was taken over by H.M. Government for war purposes.

There is some timber cover on the north east side of the Hall, and in this leafy arbour several large Army hutments have been erected. In this situation the huts are just off the air ways ground and almost hidden by the trees.

For some time after completion the huts remained untenanted, but near the middle of September 1942, a Manchester Company of Pioneers was drafted to these quarters.

Completely encircling the Hall and its adjoining buildings, there was in earlier days, a deep and wide, water filled moat, and a portion of the old moat, but now drained and road surfaced, serves as a depressed drive or road to the rear of the main buildings.

On the night of September 16th, 1942, two of the recently arrived soldiers sauntered out of their quarters about 9.45 [pm]. They passed down the moat steps opposite the central hut building and so entered the depression which once formed part of the ancient moat. Turning towards the lodge gates they were enjoying a final smoke before turning in for the night. They had not proceeded many yards when they were joined by another figure.

Its appearance was quite unexpected and gave them both a severe shock as it moved noiselessly beside them step by step, and appeared to be merely a white shadowy phantom, which they tried to, but couldn’t shake off. Both men simultaneously felt that there was something sinister and altogether uncanny about their unwelcome companion which, without a word or sound moved along with them as if determined to bear them company.

One of the men couldn’t stand the strain and collapsed in the drive, whilst his companion turned round and at top speed bolted for the lighted shelter of the hut he had just left. Immediately on getting safely inside, a rescue party was formed to bring back their comrade.

He was still unconscious, and so serious was his condition that it was deemed necessary to telephone for an ambulance which carried him to the hospital in a nearby town. He was detained for several days.

His companion, though not quite so seriously affected was some time before he quite recovered from the effects of his night’s experience.

On the following morning – that is Thursday, September 17th, the company’s sergeant related the above details to Mr. Smith the resident caretaker of Samlesbury Hall, and said he at least was satisfied that his men had passed through an unusual and trying experience for which he could offer or suggest no explanation.”

Two more stories date from 1948.

The first of these concerns members of the cast who were in the play “The Tragedy of the House of Southworth”, which was performed at the Hall in October, 1948.

One evening between the 18th and 23rd of October, when the play was being performed, several of the cast claimed to see a lady, dressed in white, pass by the window of their dressing room. Initially they though it must be one of their number, but a check showed that all were present.

They were then convinced that something strange had happened. Subsequent publicity attracted the attention of the B.B.C. who made enquiries in December of that year. The second story is narrated by Robert Eaton in the second series booklet ‘Stories of Samlesbury’. It is called the ‘Nab Lane Apparition.’

“There is a well used road close to the old Hall of Samlesbury which leads to the Blackburn Corporation sewage disposal works and a little further on arrives at the Nabs Head Inn, which too, is the property of this Corporation. About half way to the Nabs Head is the home of Mr. Hubbersty, which bears the name of Sorbrose House.

It lies on the lower side of the road and is somewhat secluded. A little further on, we arrive at a few isolated cottages, in one of which the business of a general store is carried on, here one may purchase newspapers or provisions. The people who keep this shop of general stores have been here a few years only and are not old inhabitants and in consequence had, I believe, no knowledge of local traditions.

It was the usual practice of these shopkeepers, man and wife, to have a stroll after business hours, and this often led to the main Blackburn and Preston road which ends Nab Lane.

These people as already noted are not old residents in Samlesbury, I stress this, neither had they any knowledge, as far as can be ascertained, of local traditions. As before mentioned, it was their usual practice to have a short walk after business hours, and at the same time opportunity was taken of giving the dog some exercise, but on a rather long lead.

After passing Sorbrose House and turning the bend in the road, it appears that the couple went along, well away from the shallow gutter, but the dog as far as the leash permitted was prowling there.

The couple noticed a lady, who appeared to be wearing a light mackintosh, coming towards them. After she had passed the man remarked how quietly she had passed them and later commented how close she had been to him and had seemed to brush past him.

Thinking of this later, they wondered how she could have passed the man without tripping over the dog’s lead. The figure, in fact, passed between the man and his dog over or through a tightly held lead. Further, it was too dark for any person to notice the lead and so avoid being tripped by it.

The next evening the same couple read in a local newspaper of an argument which took place between a Ribble bus driver and his conductor.

It appears that the bus driver stopped near Samlesbury Old Hall to pick up a woman dressed in a light coloured coat or mackintosh, and who appeared to be awaiting the bus, which often makes a stop at this point, for the convenience of people living near Nab’s Head.

At the stop, the conductor looked out, but there was no one there. He asked the driver what he had stopped for, particularly as they were already behind schedule and it was the last bus – then argument ensued.

It was suggested that the apparition in question might have been the ‘Lady Dorothy, a daughter of the Southworths of Samlesbury, some 350 years ago.”

In December 1962, an article appeared in the Northern Daily Telegraph concerning a book of Samlesbury Hall, which the author, Mr. G.F. Eastwood was endeavouring to get published. In that article Mr. Eastwood was asked about the ghost, ‘Does she really exist?’ Mr. Eastwood replied, “I have an open mind because quite a number of reliable people claim to have seen her.”

As I was working on the Southworth family history at this time I made enquiry regarding the book. During the course of that enquiry I was informed, by his wife, that Mr. Eastwood himself claimed to have seen the white lady spectre on the archery field by the Hall. I must state that I did not speak to Mr. Eastwood himself.

Such is the background to the ‘White Lady’ stories, but who is the lady? The legend identifies the ghost as Lady Dorothy, ‘daughter of Sir John’.

BUT Sir John did not have a daughter Dorothy, or if he did she is not recorded anywhere, and, if she did exist, her non-recording is highly unlikely. There is, however, a record of a Lady Dorothy, a sister of Sir John, and daughter of Sir Thomas Southworth and Margaret [neeButler] his second wife.

Now, there is one circumstance that would point to Dorothy as the ghost. Indications are that she died between 1575 and 1592, just at the time when Sir John was in trouble with the authorities for his continued adherence to the Catholic faith. Secret Masses were still being said at this time, probably in the Hall and in nearby Bessa Woods, and other locations round about.

The Hall contained many items of papistry, which were eventually discovered by the authorities in 1592. So it was about the time Dorothy died that there was, perhaps, a ‘need’ for a ghost in the Hall and its grounds, to deter prying eyes. It may be then that the ghost story first emerged. Whilst there is a case to be made, as above, the detail of the legend seems to be largely invented. The known facts concerning Dorothy are these.

She was born about 1525/30, the daughter of Sir Thomas Southworth. She had one brother, Sir John, and four sisters; Elizabeth, Anne, Katherine, and Cecily. Dorothy is first recorded in the Herald’s Visitation of Lancashire in 1533, when the Herald enters -”Sir Thomas Southworth Knigght maryed Margery, dawghter to Thomas Butler of Bewse, father to Thomas Butler that now ys and they have ishew Elisabeth, Anne, Katryn, and Dorothe. I spake not wt hym.”

The next record of Dorothy is her marriage. Abram records in his “History of Blackburn” that “John Rishton, Gent., son and heir of Henry occurs in a return of recusant gentry in Lancashire in 1575. He married in 1542, Dorothy, daughter [sic] of Sir John Southworth of Samlesbury, Knight, and had issue sons Nicholas and Geffrey, and a daughter Anne.”

John Rishton’s father, Henry Rishton, had married Eleanor Butler about 1527, and had issue, sons John and Geoffrey, and daughters Ann, Dorothy, Jane, Grace, Elizabeth, Alice, and Jenet.

This means that John Rishton, who married Dorothy Southworth, could only have been 15 years old at the most at the time of the marriage. His bride, Dorothy, would probably have been about the same age.

At some time, probably before 1556, and perhaps earlier than that, it seems that John and Dorothy divorced. Part of the divorce settlement may have involved the lifetime tenure of the manor of Holte, for an indenture reads -

‘Indenture 26th October 3-4 Philip and Mary [1556].

Rauf Barton, Wm. Preston, Henry Sowthworthe, Mastrys Dorothe Sowthworthe, Gregory Butler, and divers other persons worthy of credence. Endorsed manor of Holte.

Note that Dorothy has reverted to her maiden name. Whilst the divorces of her father and two sisters are recorded, there is no trace of the possible divorce of Dorothy. Yet it seems beyond doubt.

Some light may be shed by the historical notes of Mr. William Langton to the 1533 Visitation. He relates that this ‘John Rishton had been mixed up with a scandalous transaction in his early manhood.

His kinsman, Ralph Rishton of Ponthalgh, having formed an improper connection with Ann Stanley, daughter of Dame Ann Stanley of the Holt in Rishton, widow of Sir James Stanley of Cross Hall, knt., the mother carried her daughter by night to Great Harwood Church (she being three months gone with child) and forced her to go through the ceremony of marriage with John Rishton of Dunkenhalgh. A divorce eventually terminated this involuntary alliance.’

Quite why John was forced into the marriage when Ralph seems to have been the ‘cad’ is not clear.

But it does show that John was free to marry at that time, whenever it was. Dorothy is recorded again in 1575/6 when the Bishop of Chester reports to the Privy Council as “obstinate recusants in the Blagburne Parish….John Sothworth, knight, John Sothworth, gent, sonne to John Sothworth, knight, Ann Southworth, his daughter, Dorothie Sothworth, his sister.”

Again this record confirms that Dorothy was Sir John’s sister, and she was using the family surname in 1575 despite her earlier marriage to John Rishton.

Dorothy is not mentioned in a list of recusants in 1592, and this may indicate that she had died before then.

Little of the foregoing links up with the legend. There is nothing here to suggest Dorothy wished to marry ‘the son of a family which had deserted its ancestral faith’. Nor is there anything to suggest that she was ‘sent abroad to a convent where she died a raving maniac’.

Indeed she was still living in Samlesbury when she was 45/50 years old, and almost certainly died there shortly after. Nor is there any record to show that any son of a neighbouring Protestant family was slain at Samlesbury.

Such is the stuff of legends.

It seems that ghosts have always appeared, most fortuitously, when a deterrent was needed, for some reason or other, to discourage visitors or enquirers.

In the case of the Samlesbury ghost it served to deter close inspection at a time when priests were harboured there, and Masses performed, in the days of Catholic persecution.

But there is a footnote:-

If ever there was a case to be made out for a Samlesbury Hall ghost then a prime candidate would have to be Mary Southworth, daughter of John and Jane [nee Sherburne], and great grand- daughter of Sir John [died 1595].

Mary was born about 1602/3 to the heir of the Samlesbury estates. Her father, however, never succeeded as he predeceased his father. Mary’s eldest brother, Thomas, then became heir and succeeded his grandfather in 1617.

Mary was born in good circumstances, therefore, but her father died when she was 9 years old.

On the 30th May 1616, when she was 13 or 14 years old she married James Martin, M.A., a Protestant cleric, at St. John’s church, Preston.

The entry in the marriage register there reads – ‘Jacobus Martin Utrinsque Academise Magister in Artibus, Maria Southworth gen.’

Seven years after the marriage James lost his living, because he had churched mothers of illegitimate children without the required public confession having been made by them.

He seems to have become destitute, for he sent two appeals to the Archbishop of York in 1633, in one of them stating that his wife and son had died of starvation in the streets. In her darkest hours Mary’s thoughts must have turned to happier childhood days and to Samlesbury Hall, her father’s birthright. Perhaps she herself was born there.

Could it be that the pale wraith which is said to haunt the Hall is poor Mary?