Folklore of Yorkshire Read Online Free PDF Page A

modern science, when livelihoods could be destroyed by a simple crop blight and lives suddenly snatched away by some unknown sickness, so many individuals must have felt cast adrift in a hostile environment, powerless against forces beyond their understanding or control. With the human tendency to anthropomorphise and seek causal agency, the world could not help but be transformed into a demon-haunted place, apparently overrun by baleful supernatural forces bent on doing harm to persons and property. It is scarcely surprising that these beleaguered folk attempted to assert control by any means necessary, and a rich legacy of protective charms and talismans survives as testament to their endeavour. Whilst such contingencies may seem absurd today, they once represented the only hope in the face of an unforgiving universe.
    Should a house find itself tormented by a restless spirit, there were few expedients available following the Reformation, as the rite of exorcism was forbidden to Protestant clergy and often householders were forced to resort to a local cunning-person to help ‘lay’ the ghost. Such individuals might perform a corrupted remembrance of the old Catholic ritual or provide a charm to ward off the spirit, which had to be kept in the house indefinitely. For instance, in 1905, the occupier of High Fernley Hall at Wyke in West Yorkshire discovered seven pieces of parchment concealed in the rafters of the building, apparently deliberately fixed into place for posterity. These parchments were inscribed in the legal hand of the latter half of the eighteenth century, each with a series of largely nonsensical words doubtless meant as magical formulae.
    It was locally believed that the charm had been placed to offer protection against the ghost of a former owner of the hall, who had committed suicide there. Legends record that in the mid-eighteenth century, High Fernley Hall was occupied by two brothers named Bevers, both of whom loved the same woman. Only one brother won the lady’s affection, however, and they were married at Kirkheaton Church on 5 May 1742. After witnessing the ceremony, the spurned suitor returned to High Fernley, whereupon he told the servants that tragedy would soon befall him and he would ‘come again’ minus his head. He then proceeded to take his own life, supposedly by decapitating himself, although this might be a later embellishment to account for the condition of his ghost.
    Sure enough, the unfortunate Bevers brother returned every night as a headless horseman, galloping up and down the lane which led from High Fernley Hall to Judy Woods. Few locals dared walk that way after dark and the house stood untenanted for many years, until that portion in which the suicide had taken place was demolished. Considering the apparent agreement between the date of the suicide and the approximate date of the parchment charms, it seems highly likely that they were intended to ward off Bevers’ acephalous spectre. Following their rediscovery in 1905, a local belief developed that bad luck would befall the hall and its tenants should the charms ever be removed.
    Of course, the majority of household talismans between the sixteenth and nineteenth century were intended as a defence against witchcraft – specifically maleficium. In some cases, they were purely prophylactic; designed to protect against potential witchcraft, rather than a spell already directed against the house (which typically needed stronger measures to undo). The most common example, known throughout the British Isles, was a horseshoe nailed to the door of the house. In his 1686 work, Remains of Gentilism and Judaism , the antiquarian John Aubrey noted that the power of horseshoes derived from the fact they were made of iron; although it is not clear why most sources insisted that their points should be directed upwards. Nonetheless, positioned thus, no witch could cross the threshold and their spells would be reflected back upon