Legend of the Mistletoe Bough

The Legend of the Mistletoe Bough is a ghost story which has been associated with many mansions and stately homes in England.

The tale tells how a new bride, playing a game of hide-and-seek during her wedding breakfast, hid in a chest in an attic and was unable to escape. She was not discovered by her family and friends, and suffocated. The body was allegedly found many years later in the locked chest and by that time was just a skeleton in a wedding dress.

Notable claimants for the story's location, some still displaying the chest, include Bramshill House and Marwell Hall in Hampshire, Castle Horneck in Cornwall, Basildon Grotto inBerkshire, Minster Lovell Hall in Oxfordshire, Exton Hall in Rutland, Brockdish Hall in Norfolk and Bawdrip Rectory in Somerset.

The tale first appeared in print in the form of a poem by Samuel Rogers entitled Ginevra, in his book 'Italy' published in 1823. In notes on this work, Rogers states ‘The story is, I believe, founded on fact; though the time and the place are uncertain. Many old houses lay claim to it. 
The popularity of the tale was greatly increased when it appeared as a song in the 1830s entitled 'The Mistletoe Bough' written by T.H. Bayley and Sir Henry Bishop. The song proved very popular. In 1859, its 'solemn chanting' was referred to as a 'national occurrence at Christmas'[2] in English households, and by 1862 the song was referred to as 'one of the most popular songs ever written', 'which must be known by heart by many readers'. 

Further works inspired by the song include a play of the same name by Charles A Somerset first produced in 1835. 
A short story, 'Ginevra or The Old Oak Chest: A Christmas Story' by Susan E Wallace published in 1887 and 
another short story "The Romance of Certain Old Clothes" by Henry James published in 1868. 
The song is also played in Thomas Hardy's A Laodicean, after the scene involving the capture of George Somerset's handkerchief from the tower.
Film versions of the story include a 1904 production by the Clarendon Film Company, directed by Percy Stow; a 1923 version made by the British and Colonial Kinematograph Company, directed by Edward J. Collins; and a 1926 production by Cosmopolitan Films, directed by C.C. Calvert. 
The Percy Stow film version of the story can be seen on the BFI player with a new specially commissioned score by Pete Wiggs from the band Saint Etienne

The story of the Mistletoe Bough is recounted in the 1948 Alfred Hitchcock film Rope, where it is described as being the favorite tale of the main character, Brandon Shaw. Unbeknownst to the story teller, the body of his murdered son had been hidden by Shaw in the chest in front of which they are standing.



Bayly’s cheerful verse is given below:


The mistletoe hung in the castle hall,
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall;
And the baron’s retainers were blithe and gay,
And keeping their Christmas holiday.
The baron beheld with a father’s pride
His beautiful child, young Lovell’s bride;
While she with her bright eyes seemed to be
The star of the goodly company.

“I’m weary of dancing now,” she cried;
“Here, tarry a moment-I’ll hide, I’ll hide!
And, Lovell, be sure thou’rt first to trace
The clew to my secret lurking place.”
Away she ran-and her friends began
Each tower to search, and each nook to scan;
And young Lovell cried, “O, where dost thou hide?
I’m lonesome without thee, my own dear bride.”

They sought her that night, and they sought her next day,
And they sought her in vain while a week passed away;
In the highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot,
Young Lovell sought wildly-but found her not.
And years flew by, and their grief at last
Was told as a sorrowful tale long past;
And when Lovell appeared the children cried,
“See! the old man weeps for his fairy bride.”

At length an oak chest, that had long lain hid,
Was found in the castle-they raised the lid,
And a skeleton form lay moldering there
In the bridal wreath of that lady fair!
O, sad was her fate!-in sportive jest
She hid from her lord in the old oak chest.
It closed with a spring!-and, dreadful doom,
The bride lay clasped in her living tomb!



Though the legend of "The Missing Bride" was presumably well known all across the British Isles and much of continental Europe at the time, it is thought that lyricist Thomas Haynes Bayly based his famous ballad "The Mistletoe Bough" on this poem.

"Ginevra," by the English poet Samuel Rogers, originally appeared in his book Italy, a Poem in 1822. The title character, Ginevra, is a young woman of noble birth who inexplicably vanishes on her wedding day, only to be found dead 50 years later when someone opens a "mouldering chest" in the mansion that had once belonged to her father and the bride's decayed remains. Ginevra had hidden in the trunk as a prank but found herself trapped inside "When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there, Fastened her down for ever!" 




GINEVRA


If ever you should come to Modena,
(Where among other relics you may see
Tassoni's bucket but 'tis not the true one)
Stop at a Palace near the Reggio-gate,
Dwelt in of old by one of the Donati.
Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace,
And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses,
Will long detain you  but, before you go,
Enter the house  forget it not I pray you 
And look awhile upon a picture there.

'Tis of a Lady in her earliest youth,
The last of that illustrious family;
Done by Zampieri  but by whom I care not.
He, who observes it  ere he passes on,
Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again,
That he may call it up. when far away.

She sits, inclining forward as to speak,
Her lips half open, and her finger up,
As tho' she said "Beware!" her vest of gold
Broidered with flowers and clasped from head to foot,
An emerald-stone in every golden clasp;
And on her brow, fairer than alabaster,
A coronet of pearls.

But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,
The overflowings of an innocent heart 
It haunts me still, tho' many a year has fled,
Like some wild melody!

Alone it hangs Over a mouldering heir-loom, its companion,
An oaken-chest, half eaten by the worm,
But richly carved by Antony of Trent
With scripture-stories from the Life of Christ;
A chest that came from Venice and had held
The ducal robes of some old Ancestor 
That by the way  it may be true or false 
But don t forget the picture; and you will not,
When you have heard the tale they told me there.

She was an only child her name Ginevra,
The joy, the pride of an indulgent Father;
And in her fifteenth year became a bride,
Marrying an only son, Francesco Doria,
Her playmate from her birth, and her first love.

Just as she looks there in her bridal dress,
She was all gentleness, all gaiety,
Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue.
But now the day was come, the day, the hour;
Now, frowning, smiling for the hundredth time,
The nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum;
And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave
Her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco.

Great was the joy; but at the Nuptial feast,
When all sate down, the Bride herself was wanting.
Nor was she to be found! Her Father cried,
"'Tis but to make a trial of our love!"
And filled his glass to all; but his hand shook,
And soon from guest to guest the panic spread.
'Twas but that instant she had left Francesco,
Laughing and looking back and flying still,
Her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger.
But now, alas, she was not to be found;
Nor from that hour could any thing be guessed,
But that she was not!

Weary of his life,
Francesco flew to Venice, and, embarking,
Flung it away in battle with the Turk.
Donati lived and long might you have seen
An old man wandering as in quest of something,
Something he could not find he knew not what.
When he was gone, the house remained awhile
Silent and tenantless then went to strangers.

Full fifty years were past, and all forgotten,
When on an idle day, a day of search
Mid the old lumber in the Gallery,
That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said
By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra,
"Why not remove it from its lurking-place?"
'Twas done as soon as said; but on the way
It burst, it fell; and lo, a skeleton,
With here and there a pearl, an emerald-stone,
A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold,
All else had perished save a wedding-ring,
And a small seal, her mother's legacy,
Engraven with a name, the name of both,
"Ginevra."

There then had she found a grave!
Within that chest had she concealed herself,
Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy;
When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there,
Fastened her down for ever!