Devon charm to destroy the power of a witch

Common Frog

"TAKE three small-necked stone jars : place in each the liver of a frog stuck full of new pins, and the heart of a toad stuck full of thorns from the holy thorn bush. Cork and seal each jar. Bury in three different churchyard paths seven inches from the surface and seven feet from the porch. While in the act of burying each jar repeat the Lord's prayer backwards. 

As the hearts and livers decay so will the witch's power vanish. After performing this ceremony no witch can have any power over the operator."

Hewett 1900

[At Pitt Rivers museum in Cambridge there is a toad and a bulls heart from 19th century Devon stuck with pins and nails... There are examples available on the internet, including here, but the owners of the images somehow think that there job is to restrict the use of this folk material, rather than facilitating free communal use of our past... I wish I wasn't trying to keep this site copyright legal - there is lots of interesting stuff held by various public institutions, but they all restrict the use of the information they make available. Oh well.]

Drawing blood from a witch to negate the Evil Eye

   Witches' Sabbath, 1821-1823. Francisco de Goya (1746–1828)

"The surest method of escaping the influence of the evil eye, is to draw blood from the person of the witch. Shakespeare, in Henry III, says:
 

Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee :
Blood will I draw. Thou art a witch.

A country man told me recently that he had "raped old mother Tapp's arm with a great rusty nail two or three times," till he made the blood flow freely. "She can't hurt me again arter that," said he."

Hewett 1900

Horse mane plaiting...

Horse plaiting for decoration only - photo by  Fir0002/Flagstaffotos released under this license.

[This article from the Westermn Morning News caught my eye. 

The basic thrust of it is that the police have been investigating a spate of "mane weaving" - horses having their manes woven without the knowledge of their owners. At first it was thought to be the work of horse theives - but then none of the horese where stolen, despight some having be "plaited" on numerouse occasions.

The police are now putting it down to Pagans practicing "white magic" (most Pagans I know would laugh at the idea of 'white' magic - it is very objective what intentions are 'white' and what are 'black' - just like any other human action.  Is wishing for a productive year 'black' or 'white'?). They specifically put it down to 'white witches' practicing 'knot magick' (their spelling).  Maybe they got this from a Wiccan book?

I could also put it down to children (probably girls?) stopping by their favorite horse and playing with its hair.

However it also reminded me of all the old tales of pixies riding horses and knotting their manes ('fairie styrups') such as this one.

Some owners where criticising the practice, saying it may have influenced some of the horses characters, and with children's horses this could be dangerous. To me this sounds a little like scare mongering to keep people away from their horses!

The report says that it was occurring mainly around Hemyock, Culmstock and Clayhidon, the Culm Valley and Exeter.  When I mentioned it on Facebook a friend from the Chagford area said that it happens there to. 

Anyway - a good story!]

Map - Hemyock

Map - Culmstock

Map - Clayhidon 

Map - Culm Valley

Map - Exeter

Map - Chagford

My Ashen Faggot and Yule Log

[Never one to shy from traditions, even if they don't belong to me, this mid winter I seized the opportunity to make and burn an Ashen Faggot, as they where in the past burned in this area (on Dartmoor). I know that around here they where burnt on Christmas Eve, but as we where celebrating the winter solstice (and accompanying full moon and lunar eclipse) as well as Christmas I decided to take the tradition back a millennium or two.  

Here is a bit of documentation in the form of photographs of the process -

Selecting the willow from my garden - one year old whithies.

Nine willow witheys cut...

In search of an ash tree.

to the end of the garden

Finding an omen - a big wing print in the snow - most probably a buzzard?

The finished faggot - nine logs of ash from a single ash sapling, bound with nine willow witheys. By this time I was running a little late, so the witheys where not that tight. The cutting the ash had however made my finger bleed - which I always take as a good sign - if you cut a living tree and bleed a little it wont begrudge you and make you bleed a lot! To make the willow flexible, even in the cold, run each withey tight around your knee to gently ease it. Next year I will do a neater job.

Baring the modest sized Faggot to the fire. I got one funny look from a woman who has lived hear all her life - I think she might have known what it was, and I don't think she approved - maybe it was because it was not Christmas Eve...

Placing the faggot on the fire - The tradition is that you are supposed to drink a good quantity of Cider for every band that bursts - however I placed it in a hot part of the fire and we drank our cider pretty quickly - perhaps 10 minutes between the first and the last! We settled for a mouthful of hot Cider per withey. There is also a tradition of those who are unmarried picking a withies, and s/he who picks the band that bursts first will get married the soonest! Nobody was willing to risk it though!  The green ash burnt well and didn't spit or his as much as I thought it might.

The witheys burst...

My friend also added his "Yule Log" to the fire!  It struck me that this is like a peasant and a gentry version of the same tradition - in Devon "Christmas Blocks" are recorded in the big houses and faggot's among the more normal people.  I certainly felt it was a big celebration to allow ourselves to burn so much wood at a time. A big sacrifice to the turning year.  

It was a good solstice night - personal spells where done by one friend, others gave songs and music, another friend did an incantation, we drank cider, exchanged news and best wishes and most of all sat in the slumbering lungs of winter and rekindled our spirits (and a fire!) to welcome in a new year. Christmas was good in a family homely way, but it was the solstice this year that held the magic for me. Another friend who was snowed into her house remarked to me later that this was the first year that her teenage children had really got what her traditional solstice feast was about, how vital (in all senses) the sun is to life, and how profound the turning year can be....

Just as a matter of interest I do not wish readers of this blog to think of me as Pagan, or Christian, or really as an Atheist.  Please take this blog in the spirit of complete non-partisan folklore exploration.

Next tradition I hope to try is Wassailing my apple trees on the 16th of January...]

Madge Figgy's Chair

Tol-Pedn-Penwith - By Jim Champion (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC-BY-SA-2.5-2.0-1.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5-2.0-1.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

"The fine rocks of Tol-Pedn-Penwith have on the top of them a stone, which is called "The Chair." Here it is said a famous witch and wrecker named Madge Figgy used to sit and practise her magic arts to raise storms and wreck vessels. That she caused several wrecks by the display of false and misleading lights, there is no doubt."

Valentine (undated)

Map - Tol-Pedn-Penwith

The Wild Sepherds Curse

A Wild Shepherd! - A Little Pretty Pocket-book Isaiah Thomas 1767

"There is another Cornish traditionary story of Sir John Arundell, who dwelt on the north coast of Cornwall, at a place called Efford, on the coast near Stratton. He was a very honourable, excellent man, and a just magistrate. One day a wild shepherd, who professed to possess supernatural powers and to be a seer, was brought before him for having in some way broken the law; this man also possessed a dangerous influence over the people, and Sir John committed him to prison for a short time. On his release, at the expiration of his term, he repeatedly waylaid the knight, and looking threateningly at him, muttered,-

"Thou shalt die by human hand
Upon the yellow sand."

Arundell was not above the superstitions of the age. He also believed that the seer might fulfil his own prophecy by murdering him. He therefore removed from Efford, which was close to the sands, and went to Trerice, where he lived for some years, and saw nothing of his old enemy.

But Richard de Vere, Earl of Oxford, seized St. Michael's Mount. Sir John Arundell was at the time sheriff of Cornwall, and he at once gathered together his own retainers and a large body of volunteers, and attacked the Lancastrians. The retainers of Arundell were encamped on the sands by Alarazion. The followers of the Earl of Oxford one day made a sally from the castle, rushed on the sheriff's men, and in the fight Arundell received his death-wound. " Although he had left Efford to counteract the will of fate, the prophecy was fulfilled; and in his dying moments, it is said, his old enemy appeared, singing joyously:-

'When upon the yellow sand,
Thou shalt die by human hand.'"

For the above incidents, and for some other legendary stories, we are indebted to Mr. Hunt, who collected and published them in his " Popular Romances of the West of England.""

Valentine (undated)

Map - Efford
Map - Trerice
Map - Alarazion

[The places are guesses based on internet searches and story context - Efford and Alarazion in particular are a bit tenuous.]

Saint Aldhelm's Well, Doulting

"Near Doulting is still shown St. Aldhelm's Well of wonder working water. —Denham Tracts."

Hope 1893

Map - Doulting

The Priestess of Gulval

The Piestess of Gulval Well - Please attribute this website if you wish to use my drawing.

"This miraculous well, in the parish of Gulval or Gulfwell, was formerly in high repute. It was customary to resort thither at the feast time. Formerly it was famous for its prophetic properties. It is situated, like St. Madern Well, in a moor, called Forsis Moor, in the manor of Lanesly, which was the name of the parish in 1294. This name implies the existence of an ancient church upon the manor, and probably it stood near this well. The spirit of this fountain could not penetrate the recesses of futurity, but it could reveal secrets, and with the assistance of an old woman who was intimately acquainted with all its mysteries, could, inform those who visited it whether their absent friends were alive or dead, in sickness or in health. On approaching this intelligent fountain, the question was proposed aloud to the old woman, when the following appearances gave the reply: If the absent friend were in health, the water was instantly to bubble ; if sick, it was to be suddenly discoloured; but if dead, it was to remain in its natural state. Probably this old woman could discern bubbles, or discoloured water, when no eyes but her own were competent to make the observation; and it was easy to regulate this by means which fortune-tellers usually know how to use. 

This old priestess died about the year 1748. Her fame drew many to consult her, from various parts; some from motives of mere curiosity, and others to obtain intelligence of lost goods or cattle. Since her death, the well has suffered considerably in its character. Most of its ancient friends are dead; and many who secretly revere its power are silent in its praises. Multitudes totally disbelieve its miraculous efficacy, and suspicions of its magical virtues appear to be daily increasing."

Hope 1893

Map - Gulval

[There is a suggestion on the internet that this well has now been lost.]

Madron - Saint Madern or Doom Well - Part 1

"To this well, about a mile to the north, in the parish of St. Madron, many extraordinary properties have been ascribed. Dr. Borlase says: "The soil round this well is black, boggy, and light; but the strata through which the spring rises is a gray moorstone gravel. Here people who labour under pains, aches, and stiffness of limbs, come and wash; and many cures are said to have been performed, although the water can only act by its cold and limpid nature, as it has no mineral impregnation."

"Its fame in former ages was greater for the supposed virtue of healinge which St. Madderne had thereinto infused, and manie votaries made anuale pylgrimages unto it, as they doe even at this day, unto the Well of St. Winnifrede beyond Chester in Denbighshire, whereunto thousands doe yearelye make resort: but of late St. Maderne hath denied his (or her I know not whether) pristine ayde; and he is coye of his cures, so now are men coy of comynge to his conjured well, yet soom a daye resort."

Though this writer seems to despise the efficacy of these waters, the tradition of their virtues still remained amongst the Cornish, only a century ago. Borlase said: To this miraculous fountain, the uneasy, the impatient, the fearful, the jealous, and the superstitious, resort to learn their future destiny from the unconscious water. By dropping pins or pebbles into the fountain, by shaking the ground around the spring, or by continuing to raise bubbles from the bottom, on certain lucky days, and [11] when the moon is in a particular stage of increase or decrease, the secrets of the well are presumed to be extorted. This superstition continued to prevail up to the beginning of the present century, and is still spoken of with respect by some, particularly the aged..." [to be continued...]

 
Hope 1893

Men-an-tol

Men-an-Tol, image from Wikipedia © Tom Corser 2009 Creative Commons license

"Beyond the village of Lanyon, on a "furzy down," stands the Mên-an-tol, or the "holed stone." For some purpose--it is in vain to speculate on it now--the bardic priesthood employed this stone, and probably the superstition which attaches to it may indicate its ancient uses.

If scrofulous children are passed naked through the Men-an-tol three times, and then drawn on the grass three times against the sun, it is felt by the faithful that much has been done towards insuring a speedy cure. Even men and women who have been afflicted with spinal diseases, or who have suffered from scrofulous taint, have been drawn through this magic stone, which all declare still retains its ancient virtues.

If two brass pins are carefully laid across each other on the top edge of this stone, any question put to the rock will be answered, by the pins acquiring, through some unknown agency, a peculiar motion."

Hunt 1903

Map - Men-an-tol

The Mermaids Vengence - part 13

"...He could not entirely dissuade himself but that he heard this repeated by many voices; but he put the thought aside, referring it, as well he might, to the numerous echoes from the cavernous openings in the cliffs.

He reached the eastern side of the dark mass of rocks, from the point of which the tide was slowly subsiding. The song had ceased, and a low moaning sound - the soughing of the wind--passed along the shore. Walter trembled with fear, and was on the point of returning, when a most flute-like murmur rose from the other side of the rocky barrier, which was presently moulded into words

"From your couch of glistering pearl,
Slowly, softly, come away;
Our sweet earth-child, lovely girl,
Died this day,--died this day."

Memory told Walter that truly was it the anniversary of Selina Pennaluna's death, and to him every gentle wave falling on the shore sang, or murmured --

"Died this day,--died this day."

The sand was left dry around the point of the rocks, and Walter impelled by a power which he could not control, walked onward. The moment he appeared on the western side of the rock, a wild laugh burst into the air, as if from the deep cavern before him, at the entrance of which sat the same beautiful being whom he had formerly met. There was now an expression of rare joy on her face, her eyes glistened with delight, and she extended her arms as if to welcome him.

"Was it ever your wont to move so slowly towards your loved one?"

Walter heard it was Selina's voice. He saw it was Selina's features; but he was conscious it was not Selina's form..." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Mermaids Vengence - part 11

"...Walter, led by the melancholy song, advanced slowly along the sands. He discovered that the sweet, soft sounds proceeded from the other side of a mass of rocks, which project far out over the sands, and that now, at low-water, there was no difficulty in walking around it. Without hesitation he did so, and he beheld, sitting at the mouth of a cavern, one of the most beautiful women he had ever beheld. She continued her song, looking upwards to the stars, not appearing to notice the intrusion of a stranger. Walter stopped, and gazed on the lovely image before him with admiration and wonder, mingled with something of terror. He dared not speak, but fixed, as if by magic, he stood gazing on. After a few minutes, the maiden, suddenly perceiving that a man was near her, uttered a piercing shriek, and made as if to fly into the cavern. Walter sprang forward and seized her by the arm, exclaiming, "Not yet, my pretty maiden, not yet." She stood still in the position of flight, with her arm behind her, grasped by Walter, and turning round her head, her dark eyes beamed with unnatural lustre upon him. Impressionable he had ever been, but never had he experienced anything so entrancing, and at the same time so painful, as that gaze. It was Selina's face looking lovingly upon him, but it seemed to possess some new power--a might of mind from which he felt it was impossible for him to escape. Walter slackened his hold, and slowly allowed the arm to fall from his hand. The maiden turned fully round upon him. "Go!" she said. He could not move. "Go, man!" she repeated. He was powerless.

"Go to the grave where the sinless one sleepeth!
Bring her cold corpse where her guarding one weepeth;
Look on her, love her again, ay! betray her,
And wreath with false smiles the pale face of her slayer!
Go, go! now, and feel the full force of my sorrow!
For the glut of my vengeance there cometh a morrow."..." [cont.]

Hunt 1903

Old Man of Cury - part 4

"...Amongst others, he learned to break the spells of witches from man or beast; to prepare a vessel of water, in which to show to any one who had property stolen the face of the thief; to charm shingles, tetters, St Antony's fire, and St Vitus's dance; and he learnt also all the mysteries of bramble leaves, and the like.

The mermaid had a woman's curiosity, and she persuaded her old friend to take her to some secret place, from which she could see more of the dry land, and of the funny people who lived on it, "and had their tails split, so that they could walk." 

On taking the mermaid back to the sea, she wished her friend to visit her abode, and promised even to make him young if he would do so, which favour the old gentleman respectfully declined. A family, well known in Cornwall, have for some generations exercised the power of charming, &c. They account for the possession of this power in the manner related. Some remote great-grandfather was the individual who received the mermaid's 'comb, which they retain to the present day, and show us evidence- of the truth of their being supernaturally endowed. Some people are unbelieving enough to say the comb is only a part of a shark's jaw. Sceptical people are never lovable people."

Hunt 1903

Map - Lizard Point
Map - Cury 

Merrymaids and Merrymen part 3

"...'When, five-and-thirty years since, I spent several nights in a fisherman's cottage on a south-western coast, I was treated to many a "long yarn" respecting mermaids seen by the father and his sons in the southern ocean. The appearance of those creatures on our own shores, they said, was rare; but still they knew they had been seen. From them I learned of more than one family who have received mysterious powers from the sea-nymphs; and I have since heard that members of those families still live, and that they intimate to their credulous friends their firm belief that this power, which they say has been transmitted to them, was derived, by some one of their ancestors, from merman or mer-maiden.

Usually those creatures are associated with some catastrophe; but they are now and then spoken of as the benefactors of man... [cont...]

Hunt 1903

The Warrior's leat

'Through the moor that we pass when driving into Plymouth, runs the pure stream of water that Sir Francis Drake had carried into the town. Tradition says that he summoned the water to follow him, when he rode into Plymouth, a distance of ten or twelve miles, and the stream obeyed him, trickling after him at his horse's heels. "Warrior" (or, as the people call him, "Waryer") Drake is still thought to have had some knowledge of magic by the country people.'

Valentine (undated)

Wish Hounds - part 3

'...Mr Kemble has the following incorrect remarks on this word :

"In Devonshire to this day all magical or supernatural dealings go under the common name of wishtness. Can this have any reference to Woden's name 'wyse? " Mr Polwhele's note gives the true meaning of the word. Still Mr Kemble's idea is supported by the fact that "there are Wishanger (Wisehangre or Woden's Meadow), one about four miles south-west of Wanborough in Surrey, and another near Gloucester."  And we find also, "south-east of Pixhill in Tedstone, Delamere, there are Wishmoor and Inksmoor near Sapey Bridge in Whitbourn."'

 Hunt 1903

Fairy Revel at the Gump, St Just - Part 6

'...Whir! whir! whir! as if a flight of bees were passing him, buzzed in his ears. Every limb, from head to foot, was as if stuck full of pins and pinched with tweezers. He could not move, he was changed to the ground. By some means he had rolled down the mound, and lay on his back with his arms outstretched, arms and legs being secured by magic chains to the earth; therefore, although he suffered great agony, he could not stir, and, strange enough, his tongue appeared tied by cords, so that he could not call. He had lain, no one can tell how long, in this sad plight, when he felt as if a number of insects were running over him, and by the light of the moon he saw standing on his nose one of the spriggans, who looked exceedingly like a small dragon-fly. This little monster stamped and jumped with great delight; and having had his own fun upon the elevated piece of humanity, he laughed most outrageously, and shouted, "Away, away, I smell the day!" Upon this the army of small people, who had taken possession of the old man's body, moved quickly away, and left our discomfited hero alone on the Gump.

Bewildered, or, as he said, bedevilled, he lay still to gather up his thoughts. At length the sun arose, and then he found that he had been tied to the ground by myriads of gossamer webs, which were now covered with dew, and glistened like diamonds in the sunshine.  He shook himself, and was free. He rose wet, cold, and ashamed. Sulkily he made his way to his home. It was a long time before,his friends could learn from the old man where he had passed the night, but, by slow degrees, they gathered the story I have related to you.'

Hunt 1903

Plymouth - Drakies Leat

'The source of the Plymouth leat is visited annually by the Mayor and Corporation, who there drink in water "to the pious memory of Sir Francis Drake," and then in wine, "May the descendants of him who brought us water never want wine." The legend runs that the inhabitants, or rather laundresses, being much inconvenienced from want of water, Sir Francis Drake called for his horse, and riding into Dartmoor, searched about until he had found a very fine spring, when he bewitched it with magical words, and, starting away at a gallop, the stream followed his horse's heels into the town.'

Hope 1893

Nursing a Fairie - part 2

[cont.] '...When out on the road, the bandage was removed from her eyes, and she found she had a small baby in- her arms, not remarkably good-looking, with very sharp, piercing eyes, and but ordinarily dressed. However, a bargain is a bargain; so she resolved to make the best of it, and she presented the babe to her husband, telling him so much of the story as she thought it prudent to trust him with. For years the child was with this couple. They never wanted for anything; meat, and even wines, were provided,--as most people thought,--by wishing for them; clothes, ready-made, were on the child's bed when required; and the charmed water was always in the magic ewer. The little boy grew active and strong. He was remarkably wild, yet very tractable, and he appeared to have a real regard for his "big mammy," as he called the woman. Sometimes - she thought the child was mad. He would run, and leap, and scream, as though he were playing with scores of boys, when no soul was near him. The woman had never seen the father since the child had been with them; but ever and anon, money was conveyed to them in some mysterious manner. One morning, when washing the boy, this good woman, who had often observed how bright the water made the face of the child, was tempted to try if it would improve her own beauty. So directing the boy's attention to some birds singing on a tree outside the window, she splashed some of the water up into her face. Most of it went into her eye. She closed it instinctively, and upon opening it, she saw a number of little people gathered round her and playing with the boy. She said not a word, though her fear was great; and she continued to see the world of small - people surrounding the world of ordinary men and women, being with them, but not of them. She now knew who the boy's playmates were, and she often wished to speak to the beautiful creatures of the invisible world who were his real companions; but she was discreet, and kept silence...' [cont.]

Hunt 1903

The Giant of Morvha part 1

'IN the Giant's Field in Morva still stand some granite fragments which once constituted the Giant's House. From this we see the Giant's Castle at Bosprenis, and the Giant's Cradle, thus perpetuating the infancy of the great man, and his subsequent power. The quoits used by this giant are numerous indeed. This great man, on the 1st day of August, would walk up to Bosprenis Croft, and there perform some magical rites, which were either never known, or they have 'been forgotten. On this day,--for when thus engaged the giant was harmless,--thousands of people would congregate to get a glimpse of the monster; and as he passed them,--all being seated on the stone hedges, -- every one drank "to the health of Mr Giant." At length the giant died, but the gathering on the 1st of August has never been given up, or rather, the day shifts, and is made to agree with Morva Feast, which is held on the first Sunday in August...' [cont.]



Hunt 1903

Map- Bosprenis Croft / Bosporthennis Coit