Superstition at Chelmsford--Woman
Bewitched--Fortune-telling Quack--Old
Zadkiel--Incantation in Somerset--Turning the Bible
and Key--Woman assuming the form of a Hare--Woman
ruling the Stars--Young Women Deceived--Superstition
in London--Generality of Superstition--A
Prediction--How to preserve Children from
Disease--Dreams Fulfilled--Virtue of Holly and Ivy in
Worcestershire and Herefordshire--Legend concerning
the Tichborne Family--Romantic Divorce Case.
A case tried at Chelmsford, on the Home Circuit, in 1864, affords a
curious proof how much antique superstition still lingers amongst the
English peasantry. For twenty years before 1863 there had been living
in one of the Essex villages an old man, deaf and dumb, who enjoyed
the reputation of a wizard or fortune-teller. He was eighty years of
age, and the singularities of his manner and appearance contributed to
the impression he made on the rustic mind. The better sort of people
treated the old man with a kindness due rather to his calamities than
to his profession, while the more sceptical of the rabble who did not
fear him, seem to have amused themselves occasionally at his expense.
Dummey had been at the village of Ridgewell, near Hedingham, in the
summer of 1863, where there was a beer-house, the landlady of which
was one Emma Smith. The old magician wanted to sleep in the beer-house
instead of returning to his own hut, but Emma Smith refused to give
him leave. He gesticulated menacingly in his own fashion with his
stick, and went his way angrily. Soon after this Emma became ill. The
image of Dummey rose before her mind, and she pronounced herself
"bewitched."
After long misery, she went forth to seek the old man, found him at
the "Swan," a public-house near his own den, and tried to persuade him
to return with her, that his presence might break the spell which hung
over her. She repeatedly offered him three sovereigns as payment for
this service; but neither money nor words could move him. Meanwhile
the news spread that a woman who had been bewitched by old Dummey was
at the "Swan," and a crowd assembled and pulled the unlucky wizard
about, so that he fell once or twice on the ground. Smith took an
active part in the assault; and after the "Swan" was closed, she was
seen beating him and tearing his clothes. Fear for herself--fear of
his supernatural gifts--were both merged in the stronger feeling of
rage; and at last she, assisted by one Stammers, a carpenter, pushed
the old man into a brook. He died at Halsted poorhouse from the
effects of the ill-usage. Emma Smith and Stammers were sentenced to
six months hard labour for their share in this outrage--the judge
excusing the leniency of the punishment on the ground of the woman's
state of mental excitement, and of the man's having pulled Dummey out
of the water when the ducking seemed likely to produce death.
Only a few years ago an example of superstition in England came
prominently before a public court of justice. It appears that in the
neighbourhood of South Molton, North Devon, an old man aged
eighty-six, living at Westdown, near Barnstaple, was charged with
"using certain subtle craft, means, or device by palmistry and
otherwise, to deceive and impose on certain of her Majesty's
subjects." For some time a woman named Elizabeth Saunders, then
residing in an adjacent hamlet, had been ill. Doctors' remedies
failed, and her husband sent for the old man named Harper, generally
called the "White Witch," but who called himself an herbalist. He went
to the house of the woman, and gave her four or five iron rods in
succession, with which she tapped a piece of iron held by her in the
other hand while in bed. At the ends of the rods were the names of
planets, such as Jupiter and Mercury. He asked the age of the woman
and the hour she was born, saying he wanted to find out under what
planet she came into the world. He gave her some bitters to take, but
she died a few days afterwards. The defence was that the rods and
piece of metal were a rude method of using electricity, by which means
the defendant had effected many cures; but no explanation was given as
to the meaning of the names of the planets. It was stated that the
"White Witch" charged the woman 25s. for his services. Several
witnesses, called for the defence, said they had been cured of
complaints in the legs and arms by the defendant's magic rods when
nobody else could cure them. The Bench sentenced him to a month's
imprisonment.
A case of witchcraft came recently to our knowledge from Stonehouse.
Ann Bond, a professed herbalist, stood charged before a bench of
justice with having obtained L1 by means of a subtle device. Mary Ann
Pike said her sister, Mrs. Summers, having a bad leg, had been advised
to let the prisoner see it. Bond, after looking at the limb, declared
that it was not an affliction by God. She went away, and afterwards
returned with some cards. These she arranged, and, after looking at
them, said her sister was so ill-wished that her face would be drawn
to her toes, and that she would die at the age of thirty-seven. Mrs.
Summers asked the prisoner if she could do her any good. Bond replied,
"Yes; if you come at once under my demand; my usual price is 25s., but
I'll do it for L1." Deponent lent her sister a sovereign to give to
the woman. Bond turned up a bottle, and said to witness, "There is
one dark woman, and a tall woman, doing your sister injury; the circle
was not laid intentionally for her, but for her husband." The prisoner
was convicted and punished. She had formerly been imprisoned for a
similar offence.
In 1878, at a meeting of the guardians of the Coventry Union, an
inmate named Arnold, _alias_ "Old Zadkiel," a professor of astrology,
was the subject of inquiry. A letter had been addressed to him by a
lady at Dorchester, anxious to learn "what planet she was born under,
and the position of her future husband." She forwarded a number of
postage stamps. There was another letter from a lady at Leamington,
asking Arnold to keep an appointment with her, to "read her destiny."
The astrologer formerly lived in Coventry, and carried on an extensive
trade until he was sent to Warwick gaol, which he left for the
workhouse. He was cautioned by the Board. "Old Zadkiel," taking
offence, left the workhouse, saying he "should resume his astrology"
and the "ruling of the planets."
Not long ago a well-to-do farmer near Ilchester, in Somerset, had the
misfortune to have several of his cattle taken away by disease. A
veterinary surgeon who was consulted, thought the remainder of the
herd were in a fair way of recovery; the farmer, however, insisted
that he and his cows had been "overlooked," and immediately sought out
a "wise woman" residing in an adjacent town. Acting upon the advice of
the old hag, the farmer returned home, and encircled with a faggot the
last bullock that died, ignited the pile, and burnt the carcase, an
incantation being pronounced over the burning beast. The remainder of
the herd became well, and their recovery was attributed by the farmer
and his simple-minded neighbours, not to the skill of the veterinary
surgeon, but to the success of the weird ceremonial prescribed by the
fortune-teller.
A remarkable case of credulity came before Ludlow police court, in
January of this year (1879). Mary A. Collier was summoned under the
local bye-laws for using abusive language to Elizabeth Oliver. Both
parties, it transpired, lived in Lower Gouldford; and a sheet having
been lost off a garden line, with a view to discover the thief, the
superstitious practice of "turning the key and the Bible" was resorted
to. Complainant said Collier met her in the street, and said the Bible
had been turned down for Jones' yard, Martha Cad's yard, and
Burnsnell's yard, and when Mrs. Oliver's name was mentioned, "the
Bible fled out of their hands." The Bible was then turned to see if
the sheet was stolen during the day or night, and Mrs. Collier then
called her "a daring daylight thief." Mrs. Collier informed the Court
that "the key turned for Mrs. Oliver and no one else, and the words in
the Bible were for her." Mrs. Oliver said the sheet had been found
under the snow. The Bench dismissed the case, and said such gross
superstition was more like a relic of the past, and would not have
believed that such a thing existed in this advanced age.
In the village of East Knighton, Dorsetshire, in the year above
mentioned, a remarkable case reached the public ears. In a cottage
dwelt a woman named Kerley and her daughter, a girl of about eighteen
years, supposed to be bewitched. It was positively stated that they
had been thrown out of the cottage into the street, although neither
window nor door was open, and heavy articles of furniture were sent
flying about in all directions.
An old woman called Burt was named as the cause of all the mischief,
and she was declared to have assumed the form of a hare, to have been
chased by the neighbours, and then to have sat up and looked defiantly
at them. It is positively believed that until blood is drawn from the
witch the manifestations will not cease.
We must confess that superstition is stripped of its romance by
prosaic courts and stern judges. A case tried at Newbury
quarter-sessions is fresh in the memory of many. Maria Giles, _alias_
"The Ranter," well known as the "Newbury Cunning Woman," was tried on
the charge of having obtained sums of money from two women living at
villages in a wild district in North Hants, by falsely pretending she
had the power to recover some goods they had lost. The women travelled
twelve miles to consult the prisoner. She went through some absurd
proceedings, and pretended she saw in a glass the parties who had
taken the goods. Prisoner had practised witchcraft for many years. She
professed to rule the stars, and said that if the nights were clear
and fine she would be able to recover the goods sooner. The jury
returned a verdict of guilty, and sentenced her to five years penal
servitude.
The proceedings of a professional fortune-teller formed the subject of
investigation by the mayor and other magistrates of Newbury in 1871. A
widow named Maria Moss had been pretending to tell the fortune of
divers persons, particularly young women, whom she had induced to go
to her house. The principal witnesses called were Alice Prior and
Maria Low, two young women, who proved that the prisoner had promised
to tell their fortunes. Her practice had been to produce a pack of
cards, which she placed upon the table, and told each girl to cut them
into three parts. In one case she said she saw "London," and told
Prior that she would get a good situation there, and be married to a
widower. She represented to Low that she would also have an excellent
situation in London, and be married to a gentleman with plenty of
money. She induced the girls to obtain goods from tradesmen in the
town and bring them to her house, and the girls also removed wearing
apparel from their own homes and deposited the same with the prisoner,
who promised to send the goods after the girls had arrived in the
metropolis. However, the mother of Low discovered that clothes had
been taken away from her house, and the intended journey of the girls
was of course prevented. The Bench dealt with the case under the
Vagrant Act, and sentenced the woman to fourteen days in Reading gaol.
In the beginning of 1879 a photographer named Henry, of Cooper's Road,
Old Kent Road, London, was charged at the Southwark police court with
obtaining money by false pretences. The prisoner issued an
advertisement, offering for eighteen stamps to send to unmarried
persons photographs of their future wives or husbands, and for
twenty-four stamps a bottle of magnetic scent, or Spanish love scent,
which were described, the first as "so fascinating in its effects as
to make true love run smooth," and the other as "delicious, and
captivating the senses," so that "no young lady or gentleman need pine
in single blessedness." Several witnesses stated that they had
answered these advertisements; and numbers of letters--some from
Australia, China, and other places abroad, relating to them--were
found at the defendant's house. It appeared that he had been carrying
on a very successful fraud for some time. The magistrate sentenced the
prisoner, under the Vagrant Act, to three months hard labour.
Four men were charged at the Marylebone police court, London, in 1871,
with telling fortunes. They had a place in that district, in which the
police found a magic mirror, cards, nativities, planetary schemes, and
all the paraphernalia of fortune-telling imposition. On the police
going to the house, they found no fewer than thirty or forty young
women in a waiting-room, each having paid a fee. A book was found in
which were entries of the dupes in each week, the numbers varying from
89 to 662. The prisoners were sentenced to three months hard labour.
Liverpool, Birmingham, Manchester, London, and nearly all the other
cities, towns, and country districts of England continue to have their
fortune-tellers and reputed witches and ghosts. There are still many
believers in the prophecies of Mother Shipton, but none believe more
implicitly in her sayings than the labouring classes of Somerset.
Recently a report, put in circulation in the neighbourhood of Ham
Hill, made them think a great catastrophe was about to occur in that
particular locality. Mother Shipton had predicted that Ham Hill, one
of the great stone quarries of Somerset and a prominent feature in the
landscape for many miles, would be swallowed up on Good Friday. The
collapse of this immense hill was to ensue from a terrible earthquake,
the effect of which would be felt especially in that part of
Somersetshire. One result of this belief was that persons left the
neighbourhood temporarily in order to escape the disaster. Other
people removed their household goods from shelves and cupboards, in
order that they might not be thrown down by the upheaval of the earth;
and in some cases, we are told, people delayed planting and
cultivating their gardens. The residents who believed in the predicted
event said that Yeovil would also be visited at the same time by a
great and disastrous flood. One case was that of a man who delayed
planting his garden with potatoes because he believed there would be a
terrible frost, and that the River Thames would be covered with ice.
This he connected in some way with the Ham Hill affair. Amongst the
labouring classes considerable alarm existed, and Good Friday was
looked forward to with no little amount of anxiety in that part of
Somerset.
Good Friday came and passed without any untoward event. Yet that is
not enough to dispel the faith in Mother Shipton's prediction. She is
not at fault. Some blundering calculator made a mistake as to time,
and the people of Somerset are yet to have their great catastrophe.
A curious superstitious custom is observed in the Isle of Man. Mothers
believe their children may be preserved from disease by placing them
in the hopper of a water flour-mill while the wheel makes three
revolutions. On a Sunday not long since a number of children were
taken to the Grenaby mill, in the parish of Malew, three miles from
Castletown, in order to be subjected to the "charm" we have mentioned.
Two hoppers of the mill were crammed full of children, and, as soon as
they were settled, the miller caused the wheel to revolve three times,
the parents of the children being present at the time. In order to be
efficacious, the ceremony must be gone through at a time when the
ministers of the district are preaching in their pulpits. For this
reason, about noon on Sundays is generally the time chosen for the
performance of this curious rite.
At an inquest lately held in London on the body of a woman aged
eighty-two years, the evidence showed that the woman's death resulted
from injury to the head, caused by a fall from her chair. One of the
witnesses told the coroner that he believed the time had come for the
woman to die. His reason for that opinion was, that she had dreamed, a
fortnight before her death, that she had a fall, and cut open her
head, and was likely to die in consequence.
An awful fulfilment of a dream took place at a calico-printing
establishment at Sunnyside. A clerk in the work remarked to one of the
machine printers that he was glad to see him at his employment; the
printer asked his reason for his congratulations, when the clerk
observed that during the previous night he (the clerk) had dreamed
that he (the printer) had, while at his work, dropped down dead. The
printer replied, in a jocular way, "You see you were mistaken, for I
am alive yet." The printer being in his usual health and spirits, no
further notice was taken of the matter; but singularly, at three
o'clock in the afternoon of the same day, while attending to his
duties at his machine, he dropped down dead without the least warning.
This year (1879) the Deal magistrates sentenced a man named George
Wylds to two months imprisonment for refusing to proceed to sea in the
barque "Umzinto," on a voyage from London to Port Natal. The man told
the magistrate that he was satisfied with the ship, officers, and
food, but he had had a dream that the ship would be lost, and would
not go to sea in her for any amount of money. Once before he had a
dream that a vessel in which he was sailing would be lost, and it was
lost.
It is worth recording that in many parishes of Worcestershire and
Herefordshire the holly and ivy that have adorned churches at
Christmas-time are much esteemed and cherished.
If a small branch of holly, with the berries upon it, is taken home
and hung up in the house, it is considered sure to bring a lucky year.
A little of this church ivy given to sheep is considered likely to
make them bring forth two lambs a-piece. The evergreens that were hung
up in the house must, however, all be burned, except the mistletoe
bough, which should be kept throughout the year; and it generally is
in farmhouses, as, according to old people, it prevented any bad
effect from the evil eye, and fiends and hobgoblins were scared away
by it, as stated in this verse of an old sagacious adviser:
"On Candlemas eve kindle the fire, and then
Before sunset let every leaf it bren;
But the mistletoe must hang agen
Till Christmas next return;
This must be kept, wherewith to tend
The Christmas bough, and house defend,
For where it's safely kept, the fiend
Can do no mischief there."
Some country churches in Worcestershire and Herefordshire are still
usually decked with sprigs of yew at Easter, and boughs of fragrant
fresh-leaved birch at Whitsuntide; and a sprig of yew thus
consecrated, when taken and kept in the house, is deemed a
preservative from the influence or entrance of any malignant spirits.
In like manner, a branch of the birch is honoured by being placed on
or over the kneading-trough; for, thus placed, it is considered to be
a sure antidote against heavy bread.
A celebrated case, in which the pursuer, newly returned from
Australia, sought to establish, in the Court of Common Pleas (we think
in 1871 or 1872), his claim to the ancient baronetcy of Tichborne,
recalls to mind a legend current in the Tichborne family for many
generations relative to the "Tichborne Dole." The house of Tichborne
dates the possession of its right to the manor of Tichborne, near
Winchester, as far back as two centuries before the Norman Conquest.
About the middle of the twelfth century the then head of the family
married Mabel, only daughter and heiress of Sir Ralph de Lamerston, of
Lamerston, in the Isle of Wight, by which he acquired considerable
estates in that part of England, in addition to his own possessions in
Hampshire. After many years of wedded happiness, during which the Lady
Mabel became celebrated for her kindness and care of the poor, and
death approaching, she besought her husband to grant her the means of
leaving behind her a charitable bequest, in the shape of a _dole_, or
measure of bread, to be distributed annually, on the 25th of March
(the Feast of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary), to all
needy and indigent people who should apply for it at the hall door.
The said bread was to be the produce of a certain piece of ground
containing an area of fifteen acres, and of known value; but should
the applicants be greater in number than the measures produced,
twopence in money was to be given as the _dole_.
Lady Mabel's husband was induced to consent to his wife's request,
only on condition of her being able to crawl or walk round the piece
of ground demanded--a condition of apparent impracticability, from the
fact of her having been bedridden for many years previous; and this
task was to be performed while a certain brand, or billet of wood, was
burning on the fire in the hall at Tichborne. The dame, nothing
daunted, ordered her attendants to carry her to the place she had
selected, where, being set down, she seemed to receive a renovation of
strength, and, to the surprise of admiring onlookers, she succeeded in
crawling round several rich and goodly acres within the required time.
The field which was the scene of Lady Mabel's extraordinary feat
retains the name of "Crawls" to the present day.
On the task being completed, the lady was re-conveyed to her chamber,
and, summoning the family to her bed-side, she proceeded in a most
solemn manner to deliver a prophecy respecting the future inheritors
of Tichborne--predicting its prosperity as long as the annual _dole_
existed, and leaving her malediction on any of her descendants who
should discontinue or divert it, and declaring that, when such event
should happen, _the old house would fall, the family would become
extinct from the failure of heirs-male_, and that--as a final warning
of the approach of their decay--a generation would appear of _seven
sons_, followed immediately by one with _seven daughters and no sons_.
The _dole_ continued to be regularly given from the time of Henry II.
to 1799, when Sir Henry Tichborne discontinued it. Then began the
fulfilment of Lady Mabel's prediction. In 1803, four years after the
cessation of the gift, a portion of the house fell, and the remainder
was pulled down. Sir Henry, the seventh baronet of the name of
Tichborne, who had abolished the _dole_, had _seven sons_. Sir Henry,
the eighth baronet, and eldest of the seven sons, married Anne,
daughter of Sir Thomas Burke, Bart., of Marble Hill, and by her had
_seven daughters_. Sir Henry died leaving no sons.
In 1826 Sir Henry's second brother, Edward, who eventually became the
ninth baronet, having inherited the extensive property of Miss
Elizabeth Doughty of Snarford Hall, was obliged, by the terms of her
will, to drop the name of Tichborne and assume that of Doughty, thus
fulfilling, in some measure, that part of Lady Mabel's prediction
which foretold that the name would become extinct. Sir Edward Doughty
married in 1827, and had an only son, who died before he attained the
age of six years. Sir Edward's brother James, who eventually became
the tenth baronet, married, and had two sons--Roger Charles, who was
supposed to have been lost at sea off the coast of South America in
the spring of 1854 (the claimant of the baronetcy from Australia
called himself the said Roger); and Alfred Joseph, the eleventh
baronet, whose son Henry--a posthumous child, born in 1866--is now in
possession of the title and estates.
When the only son of Mr. Edward Doughty (subsequently the ninth
baronet) died, the hitherto singular fulfilment of Lady Mabel's
prediction struck him so forcibly that he besought his elder brother,
Sir Henry Joseph, to restore the ancient _dole_, which he agreed to
do; and it was again distributed, with certain restrictions, in flour,
confining it to the poor of the parish of Tichborne; and in this
manner it continues to be distributed to the present day.
Whether the resumption of Lady Mabel's gift may prove sufficient to
ward off the fatal prediction, _time alone will show_. The male race
is supposed to depend upon the life of a single heir in his minority.
This _cause celebre_, one of the most important disposed of this
century, not only ended, in the claimant's defeat, but in his
conviction for perjury and attempted fraud--a fraud which, if
successful, would have secured him estates worth between L20,000 and
L30,000 a year.
A romantic divorce case came before the High Court of Justice in
England in 1876, in which the superstitious element was strongly
blended. The proprietor of an extensive estate asked for a divorce
from his wife, belonging to the gipsy tribe. The petitioner became
interested in a family of gipsies, who were in the habit of pitching
their tents on his ground. He visited their encampment, and became
familiar with them. The member of the company who most excited the
petitioner's attention was a daughter, by name Esmeralda, whose charms
ultimately captivated the petitioner, and they were married in Norway
in June 1874. The co-respondent, stated to be an Oxford man, and who
also interested himself in the welfare of the gipsy race, seemed to
have made the acquaintance of the parties some time after the
marriage. The lady became enamoured of the Oxford gentleman. She went
with him to Bristol, and after that the petitioner did not see his
wife for some time. The husband received a letter from his wife
stating that she was ready to be reconciled to him. They accordingly
came together, and his wife suggested to him that they were both
bewitched, and she stated that in order to have such bewitchment
removed she would go to the Gussoree Gorge, a fabled deity in the
Roman Camp, who had the power to dispel the bewitchment and restore
the parties to their _status quo_. They did go to this famed
astrologer, Gussoree Gorge, who turned out to be none other than the
co-respondent, with whom Esmeralda was afterwards found living as his
wife in Edinburgh.
The petitioner, on being examined, said the respondent complained of
being bewitched, and went to Cardiff to consult the wise men of the
tribe. On another occasion she went again to consult the Gussoree
Gorge, or wise man, and brought back two letters from the astrologer.
It occurred to witness that they were in the co-respondent's
handwriting. He, on receipt of another letter after his wife left him
again, went to Edinburgh, where he found her. She threw herself on her
knees and craved forgiveness. He promised to forgive her. She asked to
go home at once, but there was a difficulty about the train. That
night they slept at Melrose, and in the morning she said she had had a
dream that her lover whom she had left in Edinburgh had committed
suicide. Witness agreed to allow her to go to Edinburgh, it being
understood she should immediately return. She never did so, and
witness did not see her again until the 31st of January.
Here the romance and superstition end. The petitioner became a wiser
and sadder man. Esmeralda lived to repent of her folly, and so did the
Oxford man of learning.