Wednesday, 18 March 2020

Bizarre Beliefs: Animated Horse Hairs

In a week where the phrase "you couldn't make it up" has been uttered more often than we could have ever imagined, it seems a fitting time to write up my recent reading on the improbable topic of "animated horse hairs." 

Yes, you read that right: there once existed a belief that horsehairs were capable of coming to life and moving of their own volition. When the horse drank from a body of water, hair would fall from its mane or tail, and, after entering the water, would, by some undiscovered force, become animated. 

I admit I assumed this was a randomly regional belief until a bit of further research revealed that the belief in animated horsehairs was another  one of those bizarre ideas that was actually widespread across the British Isles and some areas of the United States. 

It seems that the belief dates back quite some way: Shakespeare references the idea in Anthony and Cleopatra. Agrippa's Three Books of Occult Philosophy published in 1651 states that when a horsehair is placed in water, it becomes a "pernicious worm." Giambattista della Porta's Natural Magick published a few years later recounted that not only had he had first hand experience of this transformation, but friends of his had likewise witnessed hair gaining life. 

It was also one that was slow to die out. The belief was present in 18th century Derbyshire, as Edwin Trueman mentions it is in his History of IlkestonAccording to Coleridge in the 18th century, boys in Cumberland and Westmoreland would also often experiment with this belief. They would place a horsehair in water, and, when it was removed some time later, they observed that it would twirl around their finger, compressing it. 

According to Notes on the Folklore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders, by William Henderson, a horsehair that was kept in water would eventually turn into an eel. 

The Frank C. Brown Collection of North Carolina Folklore Volume VII: Popular Beliefs and Superstitions from North Carolina, published in 1913, records several variations. People believed that if you hang up a horsehair, when it rains it will turn into a snake. If a horsehair is put into water, after a period of time it will likewise turn into a snake. If stagnant water was used, after nine days the hair would turn into a black snake. A hair would also turn into a snake if put under running water and then held down with a stone. Putting a hair into a bottle of water and then burying it for six months would also have the same effect. 

This belief was associated with "vulgar" and "superstitious" people. Dobson's Encyclopedia of 1798 states that "Animated Horsehair" was:

"A term used to express a sort of long and slender waterworm, of a blackish colour, and so much resembling a horse hair, that it is generally by the vulgar supposed to be the hair fallen from a horse's mane into the water as he drinks, and there animated by some strange power." 

The belief was prevalent and long-standing enough even in the 17th century that Martin Lister, in his Philosophical Transactions, felt the need to soundly debunk the theory. The animated hairs were, in fact, a type of long, thin water worm, that eventually transformed into a form of beetle. Despite this fact, the idea that horse hairs could come to life clearly proved more interesting than the truth, and the belief continued for a good long time to come. 

Tuesday, 10 March 2020

The Floating Loaf: Discovering the Drowned

While flicking through my old favourite local history tome, The History of Ilkeston by Edwin Trueman, I came across yet another fascinating snippet that had me intrigued enough to go looking for more. 

"A body was drowned in the canal near Ilkeston, the means taken to discover it was as follows: a loaf of bread, scooped out and filled with quicksilver, was put into the water and allowed to float down with the current. When it came to the place where the body was, it was expected to stop."

The source quoted was The Legendary Lore of the Holy Wells of England, by Robert Charles Hope, published in 1893. A quick examination of this text however provided no further information on the case, and so I went further afield. I didn't find out anything more about the Ilkeston case (though watch this space!) but I did discover several interesting things about the practice.

It turns out the floating loaf, or St. Nicholas as it was sometimes called, was actually a common belief and practice in England in the 18th and 19th centuries, and potentially before. One of the earliest written references to this method of discovering a drowned corpse comes in The Gentleman's Magazine of April 1767. It involved the tragic occasion of a one year old child who had fallen into the river Kennet in Newbury, Berkshire. A two-penny loaf was split apart and some quicksilver - otherwise known as mercury - was placed inside. According to the report, when the loaf was sent into the water at the location where the child had fallen in, it made its way down the river when, suddenly, it turned and crossed the river before sinking. The location it sank in proved to reveal the body of the poor child.

Image from wikimedia commons, user Rainer Zenz

Proceedings of the Dorset Natural History and Antiquarian Field Club, under the heading Dorsetshire Birth, Death and Marriage Customs, refers to the pratice as a "charm or expedient", that was used in the area during the same century:

"To find the dead body of a person who has been drowned and which has not been recovered from the water the following "charm" or expedient is sometimes adopted. A loaf of bread is procured and a small piece is cut out of the side, forming a cavity, into which a little quicksilver is poured. The piece is then replaced and secured firmly in its original position. The loaf thus prepared is thrown into the river at the spot where the person has fallen in and is expected to float down the stream until it comes to the place where the body has lodged, when it will begin to eddy round and round, thus indicating the sought for spot."

Notes and Queries likewise mentions several cases across the 19th century, one from the Rev. C. H. Mayo of Long Burton. in 1872, A boy had fallen in the stream at Sherborne and drowned - this time however, the method of locating the body was not successful. 

Notes on the folk-lore of the Northern Counties of England and the borders, mentions several cases in Durham. The author had personal experience when he was a boy of people trying to locate corpses in the River Wear in Durham. Friends of Christopher Lumley had tried to find his body with a floating loaf near Lanchester, Durham, and again in 1860 this method was used when a child fell into the Wear on 21st October of that year. The loaf was not successful however, though thankfully the child's body was later discovered. 

Another intriguing method of locating a drowned body mentioned in this text was as follows:

"If a gun be fired over a dead body lying at the bittom of the sea or river, the concussion will break the gall bladder and cause the body to float."

An eye witness to this had informed the author that it had taken place twice that he had seen, but there had been no success. 

American Notes and Queries, July 1890, mentions that in "the last century" in England quicksilver in bread was used to locate a drowned body, and cites a case "vouched by credible witnesses" that the body of a boy had been successfully found in the Thames at Eton. The same source also states that in Ireland a wisp of straw attached to a strip of parchment was used to achieve the same aim, the parchment inscribed with cabalistic symbols. 

In the October 1898 volume of The Scottish Antiquary, it mentions how the practice was still in use in some areas of England, with the added details that the loaf used should be stale and that, when in the location of the body, it would stop and then spin round in place. 

There are references to the practice too in literature, the most well-known being Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, where it is used in Missouri, USA. 

Locating a drowned corpse in such a fasion was therefore clearly popular in both belief and practice in England, America and Ireand throughout the 18th and 19th centuries. It seems that success was varied, but belief continued regardless to the end of the 19th century and perhaps beyond.

Have you come across a case of this being carried out, or a variation on the belief that a loaf of bread filled with quicksilver could find a drowned body? If you have, I would love to hear about it!

Monday, 6 January 2020

A-Z of the Accused: Alice Noakes

Name: Alice Nokes or Noakes

Location: Lambourne, Essex

Accusations: When a servant of Thomas Spycer snatched and refused to return a glove from the pocket of Alice's twenty-eight year old daughter, Alice vowed revenge on the man. Although he insisted it was only a bit of fun, as she declared "I will bounce him well enough," the servant found himself suddenly unable to move his limbs, and, despite returning the glove, he was wheeled home in a wheelbarrow, remaining bedridden for just over a week.

Alice was also said to have accused her husband of sleeping with the wife of a man named Tailer or Taylor. Furthermore, she declared that the child of the woman would not live for long, a predicition that, unfortunately for Alice, came true. 

When spoken to in church by a local man about her behaviour and disagreement with Tailer's wife, Alice declared that she "cared for none of them all as long as Tom held on her side." It was taken that Alice was referring to her familiar demon, whom helped her with her terrible deeds. When a horse at plough belonging to the same man fell down dead after Alice felt slighted by his servant, fingers again pointed at Alice, despite the initial suspicion that the servant had whipped the horse too hard. 

Outcome: Alice was indicted for murder by witchcraft and found guilty of bewitching Elizabeth Barfott to death. She was sentenced to hang.

Tuesday, 5 November 2019

A-Z of the Accused: Anne Maidenhead

Name: Anne Cade, alias Maidenhead

Location: Great Holland, Essex

Date: 1645

Accusations: According to her confession, around 1623, Anne had been initiated into witchcraft when she received four imps or familiars from her mother. Three of these were like mice, and called James, Prickeare and Robin. The fourth, in the form of a sparrow, was, fittingly, named Sparrow.

 At this time, Anne agreed to deny God and Christ to seal the deal. She then set out to torment those she disliked. One mouse was sent to Robert Freeman of Little Clapton – it nipped his knee and drove him lame, the man dying before six months had passed. 
Anne sent Prickeare to kill John Rowlinson’s daughter in Little Clapton, and John Tillet. Sparrow got revenge when the wife of George Parks refused Anne milk; their child was dead soon after. Samuel Ray’s wife and child also died at Sparrow’s hand over refusal to settle a debt of two pence.

Outcome: Anne was indicted for bewitching to death John Rowlinson’s daughter Susan, and Grace Ray at the Essex Summer Sessions held at Chelmsford on 17 July. Despite pleading not guilty, she was found guilty on the first count and hanged – sadly an unsurprising outcome during the period Matthew Hopkins and his associates were operating in the locality.

Sunday, 1 September 2019

A Case of Cornish Witchcraft: The Sufferings of John Tonken

According to the pamphlet,  A True Account of a Strange and Wonderful Relation of One John Tonken, of Penzance in Cornwall, a youth of fifteen or sixteen years of age by the name of John Tonken or Tomkins found himself “strangely taken with sudden fits” in May, 1686. As he lay suffering in his bed, a woman appeared before him; this woman  was:

“in a blue jerkin and red petticoat, with yellow and green patches, and told him, that he would not be well before he had brought up nutshells, pins, and nails.”

John told several people of his vision, but no one but himself saw or heard the woman. It seemed however that the strange woman’s predictions were to be true, as the youth’s fits increased in intensity. Finally, to the amazement of those around him, John vomited up half a walnut shell and three pins. As if this were not enough, a few days after this strange occurrence, John again produced three walnut shells and several more pins in this fashion. 

According to John, he saw the woman several times in the days that followed. Sometimes she was in human form, but at others she took the form of a cat; her appearance caused the boy great torment, and he cried out and covered his eyes so he would not have to see her. She was, said John, trying to put things into his mouth, to choke him and poison him.

The things John brought forth became more and more amazing. Upon the woman telling him he had straws in his belly, sure enough, for the next two to three days he vomited straw at a variety of lengths, some as much as a yard long with knots tied into it. Further pins were also brought forth, to the total of sixteen or seventeen. When the woman said he would bring up nails, John complained that his heel was being pricked; when the bedding was examined, a nail was found in his heel and another in the bed.

There were those who suspected deceit on the part of young John, and his mouth was checked for objects hidden there. Nothing amiss was discovered however, and the strange vomiting continued.

Matters got worse, until, on 10 May when his most violent fit of all occurred, the woman informed John that she would kill him. John told those who were with him of her threat, but added that he hoped God would not allow her to do so. while the woman continued to torment him with her presence, John vomited a very rusty pin, which was kept by witnesses as evidence. The last, and perhaps most spectacular thing he brought forth was a  piece of needle, “half an inch broad, and an inch and a half long, with two sharp points like pins, one at each end.”

The woman proved elusive when it came to answering questions. John begged to know when he would be well, offering her five shillings or five pounds if she would answer, only for her to refuse. She likewise refused to give her name when he asked, or where she lived, or anything to identify her. The woman also evaded capture, escaping out of the window when John called for someone to help him. 

Despite her threats, the end was in sight. The last time John witnessed the woman, she was not alone: three women were there before him. When he cried out against her, she took her leave, saying she would not trouble him again. Sure enough, John was much improved and walking with crutches at the time the account was written.

Two women from Penzance, Joan Nowell or Nicholas, and Elizabeth, also known as Betty Seeze, were arrested and taken to Lanceston Gaol, accused of bewitching the boy.

The account was written by Mayor of Penzance, Peter Jenkins, and Justice John Geose. Jane was found not guilty of the charges of witchcraft against John, and it appears that Betty Seeze did not make it as far as trial, the charges against her dropped or dismissed beforehand.

The voiding of pins and other strange objects was a staple of many witchcraft accounts, and would have been recognised by those witnessing John's alleged fits as a sign of bewitchment. From the infamous 16th century case against the Witches of Warboys to Anne Thorn's supposed torments by Jane Wenham in the early 18th, this tangible evidence was used as part of a case against those accused as witches. The tormenting witch, invisible to any other than the victim, the fits that came and went in varying intensity, the increase in torments culminating with the threat to kill the victim, were all also well-known staples of the bewitched/possession narrative. 

Luckily for Joan and Elizabeth, the last executions for witchcraft had already taken place in England in 1682 with the hanging of the Bideford Witches, and the majority of trials in the latter half of the 17th century ended in acquittal. There is no further evidence to answer whether John, like some who went before him, later admitted to fraudulent claims.

Wednesday, 28 August 2019

A-Z of the Accused: Elizabeth Lightbone

Name: Elizabeth Lightbone or Lightbound

Location:  Christleton, Cheshire

Date: 1613

Accusations:  Elizabeth, wife of yeoman William Lightbone, was accused of several counts of witchcraft against her Christleton neighbours. On 30 May, 1613, she was believed to have bewitched Richard Rider so that he became lame until 20 September of that year. Prior to that, on 8 August, 1606, she had bewitched Richard Burrowes, causing him to languish until December. Finally, Elizabeth was accused of bewitching Mary Cotgreave on 20 May, 1611, causing her to become lame, a condition that continued until the time of the indictments made against Elizabeth at the Chester Quarter Sessions of 27 September, 1613.

Outcome: Elizabeth pleaded pregnancy, and although she was still in prison on 25 September, 1615, she was pardoned on 9 September of that year and is presumed to have been released. Due to this, it is assumed that Elizabeth was indeed with child, although evidence of the whereabouts of Elizabeth or her child after her pardon is frustratingly lacking.

Friday, 2 August 2019

Setting the Record Straight: The Ilkeston Witch

I've written many, many words on Anne Wagg, the Derbyshire woman accused of witchcraft by her fellow residents of Ilkeston in 1650. She is, after all, both my "local" witch, and responsible for the journey that led me to write my first book on the subject of accused British witches. 

My initial research suggested strongly that Anne Wagg had met the - practically unheard of for English witches - fate of burning for her crimes. This fact was readily attested to by several Victorian annalists, such as John Charles Cox who declared that:

"... there is little doubt that Anne Wagg was burnt to death on evidence that now-a-days would not even convict a poacher."

As I continued to look into events in 17th century Ilkeston, however, it became clear that there was much more to the story than Cox and local historian Edwin Trueman would have us believe.

In his History of Ilkeston, Edwin Trueman repeated the claim 
that Anne Wagg was burnt for bewitching the people of Ilkeston.

In late April/early May 1650, Bridget, the wife of Ilkeston vicar William Fox, was taken ill. Anne Wagg was summoned to the suffering woman's side so that Bridget could scratch her - hard enough to draw blood - in order to break the hold of the "witch" over her. This was common practice in earlier cases of witchcraft accusations, and a belief that continued well into the 19th century, despite attempts to root out such "superstition" by those higher up the social and economic scale. 

It was highly likely that this open display of support for the idea of Anne being a witch from one of Ilkeston's authority figures led to what happened next. On 1 June, 1650, baker Francis Torrat made accusations against Anne to Gervase Bennett, Justice of the Peace for Derby. According to Torrat, Anne was guilty of several counts of witchcraft, and was well known for tormenting those who displeased her. Three years previously, after exchanging "words" with Torrat and his wife, their maid servant Elizabeth had an encounter with Anne that led to her falling ill and being unable to move. That night, the maid had called out in great distress, but neither Torrat nor his wife were able to help her as they too were paralysed. It was only when a cat that had been sitting on the maid's bed leapt clear that they were free to help their distressed servant, the implication being that the cat was either the witch or a familiar doing her bidding. Local folklore belief was utilised to confirm the identity of the witch in question: when tongs were placed in the fire, it was believed that the witch would be unable to leave. This was performed and, as expected, Anne was held prisoner until the tongs were removed. 

it is unclear whether the cat that tormented the Torrat's maid was 
believed to be a familiar spirit for Anne or that it was Anne herself.
(Image: Wellcome Collection, London)

Other Ilkeston residents, following Torrat's example, spoke out against Anne on 26 June. Alice Day told how a few years ago Elizabeth Webster had accused Anne on her deathbed of bewitching her. Despite being urged to pardon Anne and thus pass with a clear conscience, Webster refused to do so. 

Elizabeth Goddard, proving that local memories could last a long time, related that fifteen years ago she and Anne had quarrelled over some whey. Anne had wanted to buy some from her, but Elizabeth Goddard refused, on the grounds that it was to be sold to her sister. When the Goddard's child fell ill that same night, it was clear that Anne was to blame - especially when, after seeming to recover, the child died a fortnight later after Anne was denied butter from the Goddards. 

Grieving Anne Ancoke blamed Anne for the death of her fifteen year old daughter only days before she gave her evidence. Taken suddenly ill, the girl said that she believed herself to be witch-ridden, and although Anne Wagg was summoned to her bedside so they could ask forgiveness of each other, it was too late to save her. 

Alice Carpenter told the justice that Anne was a woman of "ill repute" and that this was well known throughout Ilkeston. due to this reputation, when her own child sickened and died in 1649, Alice was certain that Anne was to blame. From an examination of local records, it becomes clear that Anne and her husband George were not popular figures in Ilkeston. Anne spoke her mind too often, and George was too free with his fists; both prone to losing their temper, both with others and each other, if they had friends it was likely they were few and far between. George Wagg died in 1646, leaving the way clear for those who disliked his wife to make a move when the time proved right. A further source of Anne's bad reputation is also revealed by the parish registers: an illegitimate son, Thomas Wagg,  "son and Anne, and Thomas Cant, the reputed father" was buried in 1657, while another potential child to Anne and Thomas was baptised in July of 1646, only five months after George Wagg's death. 

Although there is ample evidence for why Anne was a prime witch suspect, quite where the idea that she met a fiery end came from is unclear. What is revealed by the Ilkeston parish registers however is that Anne did not come to the end that the Victorian reporters would have us believe. Anne was buried in the local church yard in 1663, strongly suggesting that the accusations came to nothing and that the Ilkeston witch continued to live side by side with those who accused her for another thirteen years. Despite this, the assumption that she was executed continued well into the 20th century, perpetuated no doubt by the erroneous belief that witches were commonly burnt for their crimes. 

St. Mary's, Ilkeston, where Anne Wagg was buried in 1663
(Image: Russ Hamer, via Wikimedia Commons)

Read more about Anne Wagg and other women accused of witchcraft in Accused: British Witches Throughout History available from Amazon and Pen and Sword Books