Croglin Grange Vampire

Croglin Grange Vampire VAMPIRE attack recorded in Victorian England. The story of the Croglin Grange Vampire is set in Cumberland, now part of Cumbria. A vivid account of the incident was recorded by Dr. Augustus Hare, a clergyman of good repute who lived in a rectory in Devonshire, in his autobiographical book, Memorials of a Quiet Life(1871). Though there are plausible elements to the story, it has not been historically veriﬁed. There is no record of a “Croglin Grange,” but there is a Croglin Low Hall. Hare, an author of numerous European guidebooks, claimed to have had at least one encounter with a ghost himself. Shortly after being installed at his rectory, he entered his study one day to ﬁnd an old woman seated in the armchair by the ﬁre. The woman appeared to be real, but Hare knew that was impossible—there was no such woman in or near the rectory. He shrugged, chalked it up to indigestion, and sat down on her in the chair. She promptly vanished. The next day he encountered her again in a passage and boldly rushed up against her. Again she vanished. After a third encounter, Hare had to find out who this mysterious woman was. He wrote to his sister and asked her to check with two spinsters who were sisters of the clergyman who had preceded him at the rectory. Upon hearing about Hare’s encounters, the spinsters were distressed. The ghost was their mother, they said, and she had appeared to them frequently during their stay at the rectory. They had hoped that upon their departure the old lady would be at rest. Hare heard other stories of family ghosts. When a man named Captain Fisher related to him the chilling story of the Croglin Grange vampire, Hare recorded it as it was told. The story he heard may already have been expanded for the beneﬁt of entertainment, but as a folktale, it may have some basis in fact. Here is Hare’s rendition of the story:
Fisher may sound a very plebeian name, but this family is of very ancient lineage, and for many hundreds of years they have possessed a very curious place in Cumberland, which bears the weird name of Croglin Grange. The great characteristic of the house is that never at any period of its very long existence has it been more than one story high, but it has a terrace from which large grounds sweep away towards the church in the hollow, and a ﬁne distant view. When, in lapse of years, the Fishers outgrew Croglin Grange in family and fortune, they were wise enough not to destroy the long-standing characteristic of the place by adding another story to the house, but they went away to the south, to reside at Thorncombe near Guildford, and they let Croglin Grange. They were extremely fortunate in their tenants, two brothers and a sister. They heard their praises from all quarters. To their poorer neighbors they were all that is most kind and beneﬁcent, and their neighbors of a higher class spoke of them as a most welcome addition to the little society of the neighbourhood. On their parts the tenants were greatly delighted with their new residence. The arrangement of the house, which would have been a trial to many, was not so to them. In every respect Croglin Grange was exactly suited to them. The winter was spent most happily by the new inmates of Croglin Grange, who shared in all the little social pleasures of the district, and made themselves very popular. In the following summer, there was one day which was dreadfully, annihilatingly hot. The brothers lay under the trees with their books, for it was too hot for any active occupation. The sister sat in the verandah and worked, or tried to work, for, in the intense sultriness of that summer day, work was next to impossible. They dined early, and after dinner they still sat out in the verandah, enjoying the cool air which came with evening, and they watched the sun set, and the moon rise over the belt of trees which separated the grounds from the churchyard, seeing it mount the heavens till the whole lawn was bathed in silver light, across which the long shadows from the shrubbery fell as if embossed, so vivid and distinct were they. When they separated for the night, all retiring to their rooms on the ground-floor (for, as I said, there was no upstairs in that house), the sister felt that the heat was still so great that she could not sleep, and having fastened her window, she did not close the shutters—in that very quiet place it was not necessary—and, propped against the pillows, she still watched the wonderful, the marvelous beauty of that summer night. Gradually she became aware of two lights, two lights which ﬂickered in and out in the belt of trees which separated the lawn from the churchyard, and as her gaze became ﬁxed upon them, she saw them emerge, ﬁxed in a dark substance, a deﬁnite ghastly something,which seemed every moment to become nearer, increasing in size and substance as it approached. Every now and then it was lost for a moment in the long shadows which stretched across the lawn from the trees, and then it emerged larger than ever, and still coming on—on. As she watched it, the most uncontrollable horror seized her. She longed to get away, but the door was close to the window and the door was locked on the inside, and while she was unlocking it she must be for an instant nearer to it. She longed to scream, but her voice seemed paralyzed, her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth. Suddenly—she could never explain why afterwards— the terrible object seemed to turn to one side, seemed to be going round the house, not to be coming to her at all, and immediately she jumped out of bed and rushed to the door, but as she was unlocking it she heard scratch, scratch, scratch upon the window, and saw a hideous brown face with ﬂaming eyes glaring in at her. She rushed back to the bed, but the creature continued to scratch, scratch, scratch upon the window. She felt a sort of mental comfort in the knowledge that the window was
securely fastened on the inside. Suddenly the scratching sound ceased, and a kind of pecking sound took its place. Then, in her agony, she became aware that the creature was unpicking the lead! The noise continued, and a diamond pane of glass fell into the room. Then a long bony ﬁnger of the creature came in and turned the handle of the window, and the window opened, and the creature came in; and it came across the room, and her terror was so great that she could not scream, and it came up to the bed, and it twisted its long, bony ﬁngers into her hair, and it dragged her head over the side of the bed and—it bit her violently in the throat. As it bit her, her voice was released, and she screamed with all her might and main. Her brothers rushed out of their rooms, but the door was locked on the inside. A moment was lost while they got a poker and broke it open. Then the creature had already escaped through the window, and the sister, bleeding violently from a wound in the throat, was lying unconscious over the side of the bed. One brother pursued the creature, which ﬂed before him through the moonlight with gigantic strides, and eventually seemed to disappear over the wall into the churchyard. Then he rejoined his brother by his sister’s bedside. She was dreadfully hurt, and her wound was a very deﬁnite one, but she was of strong disposition, not either given to romance or superstition, and when she came to herself she said, “What has happened is most extraordinary and I am very much hurt. It seems inexplicable, but of course there is an explanation, and we must wait for it. It will turn out that a lunatic has escaped from some asylum and found his way here.” The wound healed, but the doctor who was sent for to her would not believe she could bear so terrible a shock so easily, and insisted that she must have change, mental and physical; so her brothers took her to Switzerland. Being a sensible girl, when she went abroad, she threw herself at once into the interests of the country she was in. She dried plants, she made sketches, she went up mountains, and, as autumn came on, she was the person who urged that they should return to Croglin Grange. “We have taken it,” she said, “for seven years, and we have only been there one; and we shall always ﬁnd it difﬁcult to let a house which is only one story high, so we had better return there; lunatics do not escape every day.” As she urged it, her brothers wished nothing better, and the family returned to Cumberland. From there being no upstairs in the house, it was impossible to make any great change in their arrangements. The sister occupied the same room, but it is unnecessary to say she always closed her shutters, which, however, as in many old houses, always left one top pane of the window uncovered. The brothers moved, and occupied a room together exactly opposite that of their sister, and they always kept loaded pistols in their room. The winter passed most peacefully and happily. In the following March, the sister was suddenly awakened by a sound she remembered only too well—scratch, scratch, scratch upon the window, and, looking up, she saw, climbed to the topmost pane of the window, the same hideous brown shrivelled face, with glaring eyes, looking in at her. This time she screamed as loud as she could. Her brothers rushed out of their room with pistols, and out the front door. The creature was already scudding away across the lawn. One of the brothers ﬁred and hit it in the leg, but still with the other leg it continued to make way, scrambled over the wall into the churchyard, and seemed to disappear into a vault which belonged to a family long extinct. The next day the brothers summoned all the tenants of Croglin Grange, and in their presence the vault was opened. A horrible scene revealed itself. The vault was full of cofﬁns; they had been broken open, and their contents, horribly mangled and distorted, were scattered over the ﬂoor. One cofﬁn alone remained intact. Of that the lid had been lifted, but still lay loose upon the cofﬁn. They raised it, and there, brown, withered, shrivelled, mummiﬁed, but quite entire, was the same hideous ﬁgure which had looked in at the windows of Croglin Grange, with the
marks of a recent pistol-shot in the leg; and they did the only thing that can lay a vampire—they burnt it. The story of the “old vampire” remains alive in Cumbrian lore. Croglin Low Hall still exists, part of an ancient countryside that was settled long before the Romans arrived in Britain. The churchyard is about one mile away. It has no tomb as described in the story; the tomb may have been an embellishment.

Croglin Grange Vampire

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