An Address to "Dickie."
At a farm-house at Tunstead, near Chapel-en-le-Frith, a human skull, about which hangs many a strange story, has for several generations—indeed "time out of mind"—been preserved. There are some curious traditions connected with this skull, which is popularly known as "Dickie," or "Dicky o' Tunsted." How it first came to the farm is a complete mystery. All that is known is that it has been there for many generations, and always occupies the same position in the window-seat of the house. No matter what changes take place in the other occupiers of the house, Dicky holds his own against all comers, and remains quietly ensconced in his favourite place. It is firmly and persistently believed that so long as Dick remains in the house, unburied, everything will go on well and prosperously, but that if he is buried, or "discommoded," unpleasant consequences will assuredly follow. On more than one occasion he has been put "out of sight," but tempests have arisen and injured the building, deaths have ensued, cattle have been diseased and died off, or crops have failed, until the people have been humbled, and restored him to his proper place. One of the crowning triumphs of Dickie's power is said to have been evinced over the formation of the new Buxton and Whaley Bridge line of railway. He seems to have held the project in thorough hatred, and let no opportunity pass of doing damage. Whenever there was a land slip or a sinking, or whenever any mishap to man, beast, or line happened, the credit was at once given to Dickie, and he was sought to be propitiated in a variety of ways.
Hutchinson, who wrote "A Tour through the High Peak" in 1807, thus speaks of the skull, and of the supernatural powers attributed to it:—"Having heard a singular account of a human skull being preserved in a house at Tunstead, near the above place, and which was said to be haunted, curiosity induced me to deviate a little, for the purpose of making some enquiries respecting these natural or supernatural appearances. That there are three parts of a human skull in the house is certain, and which I traced to have remained on the premises for near two centuries past, during all the revolutions of owners and tenants in that time. As to the truth of the supernatural appearance, it is not my design either to affirm or contradict, though I have been informed by a creditable person, a Mr. Adam Fox, who was brought up in the house, that he has not only repeatedly heard singular noises, and observed very singular circumstances, but can produce fifty persons, within the parish, who have seen an apparition at this place. He has often found the doors opening to his hand—the servants have been repeatedly called up in the morning—many good offices have been done by the apparition, at different times;—and, in fact, it is looked upon more as a guardian spirit than a terror to the family, never disturbing them but in case of an approaching death of a relation or neighbour, and showing its resentment only when spoken of with disrespect, or when its own awful memorial of mortality is removed. For twice within the memory of man the skull has been taken from the premises,—once on building the present house on the site of the old one, and another time when it was buried in Chapel churchyard;—but there was no peace! no rest! it must be replaced! Venerable time carries a report that one of two coheiresses residing here was murdered, and declared, in her last moments, that her bones should remain on the place for ever.[90] On this head the candid reader will think for himself; my duty is only faithfully to relate what I have been told. However, the circumstance of the skull being traced to have remained on the premises during the changes of different tenants and purchasers for near two centuries, must be a subject well worth the antiquarian's research, and often more than the investigation of a bust or a coin!"
The following clever Address to "Dickie" was written by Mr. Samuel Laycock, and first appeared in the Buxton Advertiser.
Neaw, Dickie, be quiet wi' thee, lad,
An' let navvies an' railways a be;
Mon, tha shouldn't do soa,—it's to' bad,
What harm are they doin' to thee?
Deod folk shouldn't meddle at o',
But leov o' these matters to th' wick;
They'll see they're done gradeley, aw know,—
Dos' t' yer what aw say to thee, Dick?
Neaw dunna go spoil 'em i' th' dark
What's cost so mich labber an' thowt;
Iv tha'll let 'em go on wi' their wark,
Tha shall ride deawn to Buxton for nowt;
An' be a "director" too, mon;
Get thi beef an' thi bottles o' wine,
An' mak' as much brass as tha con
Eawt o' th' London an' North Western line.
Awm surproised, Dick, at thee bein' here;
Heaw is it tha'rt noan i' thi grave?
Ar' t' come eawt o' gettin' thi beer,
Or havin' a bit ov a shave?
But that's noan thi business, aw deawt,
For tha hasn't a hair o' thi yed;
Hast a woife an' some childer abeawt?
When tha'rn living up here wurt wed?
Neaw, spake, or else let it a be,
An' dunna be lookin' soa shy;
Tha needn't be freeten'd o' me,
Aw shall say nowt abeawt it, not I!
It'll noan matter mich iv aw do,
I can do thee no harm iv aw tell,
Mon there's moor folk nor thee bin a foo',
Aw've a woife an some childer misel'.
Heaw's business below; is it slack?
Dos' t' yer? aw'm noan chaffin thee, mon'
But aw reckon 'at when tha goes back
Tha'll do me o' th' hurt as tha con.
Neaw dunna do, that's a good lad,
For awm freeten'd to deoth very nee,
An' ewar Betty, poor lass, hoo'd go mad
Iv aw wur to happen to dee!
When aw'n ceawer'd upo' th' hearston' awhoam,
Aw'm inclined, very often, to boast;
An' aw'n noan hawve as feart as some,
But aw don't loike to talke to a ghost.
So, Dickie, aw've written this song,
An' aw trust it'll find thee o' reet;
Look it o'er when tha'rt noan very throng,
An' tha'll greatly obleege me,—good neet.