Bud Ah’ll stop tha being bedded;
and so saying, turned about and left the house. Good cheer and bonny bridesmaids soon banished any gloom the old lady’s words for the moment had cast over the party.
Late that evening, after the bride had retired to rest, one of the bridesmaids, sister of the bridegroom, whispered to him, that it would be useless trying to join his bride by way of the stairs, as there was a plot on foot to keep him with the revellers the night long—not an uncommon thing in those days—it often needing all the scheming of bride and bridesmaids, to outwit the well-laid plots of the bucks of those gay old times. The plan which the bridesmaids had arranged for the bridegroom’s escape, was that a game of blindman’s-buff should be played, and on a given signal a maiden was to call out, ‘Kiss the girl you love in the dark’; on this being said, every candle was to be blown out, and the bridegroom had to seize the opportunity to escape. A ladder had been placed underneath the bride’s window, and although it was a little short, the bridesmaids had tied a long towel to the window-sash, by which he could pull himself through the window. Everything worked splendidly until he was just going to pull himself up by the towel, when some half-intoxicated idiot discovered he was escaping, and pulled the ladder from underneath him, bringing him to the ground with an awful bang. The poor fellow, on being carried into the house, was found to have broken his leg. The old lady was right after all. It seems they did have their little excitements in the good old days of yore—in these days it is a shower of rice[48] and an old shoe.
Wrightson, the wise man of Stokesley, although he died about seventy years ago, has left such a record behind as few men in his position ever build up to their credit[49]. He was known as the wise man of Stokesley. He was the seventh son of a seventh daughter; and whether such a concatenation of circumstances lift a man out of the ordinary rut, I am not in a position to say. But judging Wrightson from the lips of those who knew him—they are all about gone now—or from those who have heard of him from their parents, one cannot but come to the conclusion, that he was undoubtedly a man endowed with marvellous psychic power, and with the smallest amount of charlatanry possible. In fact, all agree in testifying to the fact that he claimed nothing beyond the power which belonged to all such as are born under similar circumstances; and that sort of thing was fully believed in then, and, I might add, is yet, for the matter of that.
In dealing with such a celebrity—for such he was, his fame extending far beyond the boundary of the North Riding—one cannot be too particular as to the source from whence information is obtained. Fortunately, years ago, I knew an old Yorkshireman, already alluded to—William Scorer, a native of Basedale, but who for some years kept an inn at Fearby above Masham. During the time I knew him, he was the landlord of the Fleece, Bedale. He personally knew Wrightson.
Take the following as examples of the man’s marvellous power. A friend of Scorer[50] had bought several head of cattle at Northallerton fair. These had to be driven to Stokesley; to this end they were given in charge of an old drover who was driving a lot to the same place for another buyer. The drover, arriving late at night, put the two droves into a field about a quarter of a mile on the other side of Stokesley, but in the morning two of Scorer’s beasts were missing; the drover declared they were all there when he gated them the night before. A suspicion somehow arose that the old chap had sold them on the way, and pocketed the money. At that time they were altogether without any proof that he had done anything of the kind.
The only way to discover if their surmises were correct, was to visit Wrightson. But to put the wise man’s power to the test, they decided to say it was a horse they had lost; arguing, if he really knew anything that could help them, he would find out the trick which was being played upon him. On entering his cottage, and before they could speak, Wrightson shouted from the scullery, where he was washing himself, ‘Noo then, if you chaps is sharp eneaaf, an’ ez that mich off’ (i.e. know that much) ‘’at ya can manish ti to’n tweea coos intiv a hoss, it’s neea ewse cumin’ ti me, foor Ah can’t to’n a hoss back inti tweea coos, an’ seea ya’d better mak yersens scarce. Ah’ve nowt ti saay ti ya.’ And for some time the wise man was past all persuasion. In the end he shouted, without leaving the scullery, ‘Tha’re baith i’ t’ beck, an’ tha’ve been theer sen yester neet.’ And sure enough both their bodies were found a good mile below the bridge; evidently they had missed the bridge when being driven over late the night before, and had both been drowned in the Leven, which was much swollen by recent rain. Here, as in many other stories told of the marvellous man, was an evidence of foreknowledge; and many of them rest upon what must be admitted to be very reliable testimony, and vouched for by most respectable people of that time[51]. Now for the other story, which occurred some years afterwards.
One Nathan Agar, for security, hid a stocking-foot (in which he had wrapped five golden guineas) under a portion of the thatch. One day, intending to add another golden one to his store, he found the stocking-foot, guineas and all, had vanished. Nathan said nothing to any one, but just went straight to Wrightson. ‘Thoo’ll knaw what Ah’ve cum’d aboot,’ said Nathan. Wrightson at once twitted the old man, touching some previous conversation they had held as to the advisability of Nathan, who was about sixty years of age, marrying a girl not quite nineteen. But the combined wisdom and unhappy future which had been foretold by Wrightson, had not been sufficient to overcome the old fool’s idiotic passion for the buxom lass. In the end he was told to go home, and when no one was in the house, he had to lift up the flag in front of the doorstep, and place a certain leaf of the Bible underneath, and carefully watch who stumbled over the threshold as they entered. This, Nathan most carefully carried out. The first who entered was their young lodger, and he stumbled; after awhile in came the wife, and she stumbled. I don’t know if the flag tilted, or whether the next person would have stumbled also, because Nathan didn’t wait to test the result of a third entry, but hurried off to Wrightson, to whom he made known the result. Wrightson told him that his property was hidden in a certain part of a pig-sty, together with an old watch, which up to that time Nathan had not missed. Other and more serious charges were made, which for ever destroyed Nathan’s hope of future happiness. Wrightson’s advice was that he should return home, secure his watch, give them the five guineas, and send them about their business. This was promptly carried out, and I believe is the quickest and cheapest divorce proceeding on record. One other story has just come into my mind, which, if true, proves to what a wonderful degree he must have possessed a clairvoyant power.
A lady residing in some part of South Durham was likely to die from a lump in her throat—possibly a quinsy. Nothing that was done gave her ease; at last some one suggested the wise man of Stokesley. A man on horseback was dispatched—I believe the son of the lady. On approaching Wrightson’s house, even before he got to the door, the wise man looked out, saying, as the young man came up, ‘Bait thi hoss, git summat ti eat, an’ git thisen back agaan; t’ bleb’s brussen; sha’s all reet now;’ i.e. ‘Bait your horse, get some refreshment, and return home again; the lump has burst; she is all right now.’
I have just had the following story given me by Old Willie Bradley of Great Ayton. His father, who was a quarryman, had some tools stolen, and, like every one else in those days, he went to Wrightson. ‘Noo, then,’ said that worthy, on Willie’s father entering, ’thoo’s cum’d aboot thi teeals, bud Ah can deea nowt fur tha, ez they’ve been hugg’d accross watter; bud Ah can let tha see wheear tha’re liggin.’ Wrightson then put him in front of a seeing-glass (looking-glass) in a darkened room, and told him to keep looking at the glass, telling him if he took his eyes off something awful would happen, but my informant cannot remember what. Anyway, his father never was so terrified in all his life, and wished he had never bothered about the lost tools. In a little while, however, he saw them quite plainly, lying amongst some bracken in a wood—the place he recognized quite easily. On telling Wrightson what he had seen, he was cautioned not to touch them. Wrightson said he must bring him a live magpie. This he tried to obtain, but failed; he could not catch one, neither, for some reason, would any boy who had one part with his pet; so, after a week, he had to tell the wise man that the task was impossible. ‘Then,’ said Wrightson, ‘Ah caan’t wark him onny harm, an’ thoo’ll ‘ ti loss the teeals[52].’