Hidden Charms

Horse Skulls Investigation into the meaning of concealed horse skulls has so far Fig 5: Dried cat from Eckington, been limited to two explanations, Worcestershire. Most of his respondents, having consulted in their localities, reported the belief that horse skulls were concealed under flagstones in front of the fire to make a better sound when people danced in the evenings. He was convinced that the practice must have earlier origins and that the horse skulls were concealed as foundation sacrifices.

As far as I know, there has been little research into whether concealing horse skulls beneath the floor does actually improve the quality of sound in the room — although it is possible that it might. This theory of horse skulls improving acoustics is widely held and it may have been a way of justifying the Fig 6: Horse skull from the author's collection. Opposing this acoustic theory is the idea that horses were placed in houses as foundation sacrifices. For example, in Essex a skull was found concealed by the fireplace between two walls.

This could not possibly have served an acoustic function. Those objects would then become potent magical objects on the threshold of materiality. Carlo Ginzburg, The Night Battles: John Tedeschi and Anne Tedeschi London: Henri Boguet, An Examen of Witches, tr. John Rodker, ; originally published in French, James Craigie, Scottish Texts 4th series 14 Edinburgh: Merrifield, Archaeology of Ritual pp. A Feeling for Magic, ed.

Palgrave Macmillan, pp. Joseph Glanvill, Saducismus Triumphatus London: Collins, 2 pp. Harvard University Press, p. Merrifield, Archaeology of Ritual p. Hidden charms in Finland and the British Isles Sonja Hukantaival Introduction When a horse dies one should dry its skull and secretly conceal it under the back wall; no-one must see when this is done. This will drive bedbugs away. Due to challenges in recording and interpreting such finds, this material is considerably smaller, consisting of only cases.

Additionally, the study discusses seven witchcraft and superstition trials where concealed objects are involved. These materials, from a period of c. Ritual concealments in buildings, or hidden charms, are widely-known and have especially been studied in the British Isles. The hidden charms most often discussed here are concealed shoes, dried cats, horse skulls, and witch bottles.

The aim of this paper is to briefly explore similarities and differences in practices involving ritually concealed objects in buildings in Finland and the British Isles. At the same time, some results of the study and traditions known in Finland are introduced. Meanings of the Practices A small bottle with quicksilver has been kept inside or under the threshold of a stable and cowshed, for a witch cannot cross such a threshold.

However, these accounts date mostly to the late 19th and early 20th century, so they describe the customs known at that time.

The meanings of earlier practices must be inferred from the choice of object and its location in the building. For the purpose of this paper, the meanings described in the folklore form a sufficient body of evidence for comparison with meanings discussed in the British Isles. In Finnish folklore, several different reasons are given for practices involving concealment Fig.

Moreover, the evil is most often specified as witchcraft caused by envious neighbours. Other reasons that occur in smaller percentages are, for example, malignant magic, offering to a guardian spirit, and counter-magic against witchcraft believed to have already occurred. Study of Finnish folklore also reveals that specific meanings are connected to specific types of objects and their chosen location. Concealments of mercury in threshold contexts especially have a very strong correlation with apotropaic practices, while animal remains in hearth contexts are strongly connected with pest-repelling meanings.

Though the author is unaware of studies giving information on the relative popularity of different meanings in the British Isles, there seems to be a consensus that apotropaic meanings are prominent here as well. Instead, the usefulness of the concealed object is connected to a notion of special otherworldly agency believed to be a quality of certain animals, materials, and artefacts. Mercury is often described as being put inside a small bottle or the quill of a bird and concealed under or inside the threshold. These last-mentioned three types of objects are discussed in more detail below.

In contrast to the folklore, slightly different objects stand out in the Finnish finds. Find material forms a smaller body of evidence than folklore, emphasised by the fact that the finds cover a wider time-span of around years. Still, one major reason for the diverging picture is matters of preservation, recognition, and documentation of finds. In the find material, human-made artefacts especially stand out as concealed objects.

Moreover, in cases found in buildings dating to late modern times c. This picture is influenced by the early interests of antiquarians and museums. Finds of Stone Age and other interesting artefacts have been recorded with accuracy, while many other types of objects have not been of interest. One group of objects occurring in both folklore and finds is sharp metal tools, such as axes and knives. Coins are also present in the find material, but due to problems in recognition and documentation of these small objects, they are clearly under-represented.

The contexts of hidden charms occurring in folklore, in order of popularity, are thresholds, corners, walls, roofs, hearths, and floors. Dwellings and animal shelters stand out as types of buildings receiving a concealment. In the find material, thresholds and roofs are under- represented, while walls, floors, and hearths stand out. The most common type of building during most of the historical period in Finland was a horizontal log construction with a cross-notch corner technique.

The oldest type is called a smoke cottage, since it does not have a chimney. The smoke was simply led out through a small hatch in the wall. Smoke cottages are known from medieval times up to the 19th century, even though log houses with chimneys started to become popular in the 18th and 19th centuries. Even though concealments from the British Isles are often reported in connection with chimneys, hearths and thresholds also seem to have been popular locations. Horse skulls In Finnish folklore, horse skulls are most often mentioned as concealed in the foundation of a hearth, but in some cases wall-foundations and floors are also mentioned Fig.

As noted, there is a strong connection between horse skulls and pest control in the folklore. They were usually supposed to keep cockroaches, fleas, bedbugs, and rats outside the building. Even though horse skulls are often mentioned in folklore, there are few documented finds of such concealments in Finland, although it has been pointed out that in some areas finding a horse skull in an old hearth during demolition has been common — perhaps too common, since people do not think that it is something they should report to the local museum.

Only remarkable finds tend to get reported; this is evident in two cases where the complete skeleton of a horse was found in a hearth foundation. Though a pest-repellent function is not present, horse skulls in the British Isles seem to focus on similar locations, under floors and by hearths. It is also evident that the acoustic meaning is unlikely to have been the only reason to conceal a horse skull in the British Isles. Concealed shoes Only two Finnish folklore accounts describe concealing a shoe: These are both found in towns, in contrast to the folklore gathered from rural areas.

One is a find of three shoes placed under a support beam of the attic-floor in the Old Town Hall of Porvoo built in the s. The other case is quite intriguing. According to the museum catalogue, the shoe was found during renovation of the old wooden main building of Meilahti manor in The building was built in the early 19th century, but during — the estate was owned by the British Campbell family. The attic of the building was renovated in , and this is the time when the boot was most likely concealed in the roof.

It seems likely that the Campbells were the concealers. Concealed cats at the Naval Academy in Helsinki? Concealed cats are mentioned in six Finnish folklore accounts. As with shoes, it seems that the practice was not as popular in Finland as in the British Isles. Five of the accounts depict concealing a whole cat, and this was done for malignant purposes, to destroy the luck of others. One certain find of a concealed cat has been recorded.

It was found inside a miniature coffin in the attic structures of Kiihtelysvaara church. The remains of two cats together with some shoes were found in the crawl space under the floor of the Naval Academy on Seurasaari Island in Helsinki. The space could theoretically have been accessible for cats to get trapped there, so this is not a certain case. One of the cats was mummified, and it was found lying inside a bottomless tipped-over barrel, while the other was lying in front of the barrel.

The latter was not preserved as well as the one inside the barrel Fig. The cats were left in place after the renovation. It is possible that the sparse picture of concealed cats in Finland is partly due to issues with documentation, but this is uncertain as things stand. Counter-Magic against Witchcraft The best-known objects used for counter-magic practices against witchcraft in the British Isles are witch bottles. The remains of rituals including the burial of a miniature c.

Other finds date to the late 18th and 19th century, so these practices have been operative until the late 19th century. The possibly concealed cats in the crawl-space under the loor of the Naval Academy in Helsinki. Photo by Marjo Tiirikka. When they were found in the late 19th and early 20th century, they were not considered worth keeping. These practices are also known in Finnish folklore from the late 19th century. The burial place was not always in a church in the folklore, but this is the only context where these coffins have been found, during church renovations.

According to folklore, these coffins have been part of counter- magic against witchcraft: The ritual was often very detailed, and involved a lot of ritual treatment: The folklore also often states that something of the victim of the witchcraft should be put in the coffin, sometimes even inside the mouth of the frog.

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These burials also included some textile as a shroud for the animal. Ritual marks on timbers Ritual marks in buildings are not part of my thesis, but since these are widely discussed in the British Isles a short comment on the Finnish situation is in order. Finnish ritual marks were studied in the s by Sulo Haltsonen,29 whose study mentions the cross and pentagram as the most common marks used in Finland.

The M or W symbols, hexafoils, and burn marks well-known in the British Isles30 have not been seen in Finnish discussion. The elaborately made miniature pine cof in containing the remains of a frog wrapped in textile was found inside the jamb of the portal of a burial chapel in Turku Cathedral during renovation work — Photo by Sonja Hukantaival. Thus, it is likely that a new study might reveal previously undiscussed details on these practices in Finland. Conclusion To conclude, there is evidence of both similarities and differences between traditions in Finland and the British Isles.

Similarities are the use of horse skulls, and to a lesser extent coins and sharp metal tools. In particular, the main purpose, to protect against evil influences, especially witchcraft, is shared in both areas. Witch bottles were not known in Finland, but the tradition of frogs in miniature coffins served a similar purpose of counter-witchcraft. Concealed shoes and cats also seem to have been less popular in Finland than in the British Isles.

Thus, while the main ideas are similar, chosen objects and practices differ somewhat. Finnish Literature Society, Folklore Archives: Pekka Pulkkinen, 60 yrs old. Translated by the author. Building Concealment Traditions in Finland c. Witchcraft and Magic in Enlightenment Europe, ed. Manchester University Press, pp. Concealed Finds from Buildings in Central Europe, ed. Merrifield, Archaeology of Ritual Fig.

Hexafoil on a windowsill at pp. Archaeology 48 pp.

Ceri Houlbrook and Natalie Armitage Oxford: Oxbow Books, pp. See also the ritual vs. About this agency, see e. Laura Stark, The Magical Self: Suomalainen tiedeakatemia, pp. Electronic Journal of Folklore 38 pp.

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Trends and Traditions in Swedish Medieval Archaeology, ed. Electronic Journal of Folklore 42 pp. University of Turku, Archaeology, , http: Nordic Academic Press, pp. Origins, Changes, and Interactions, ed. Marttini b ; b Hukantaival, A Witch Cannot Cross pp. Matti Varonen, Vainajainpalvelus muinaisilla suomalaisilla Helsinki: Hukantaival, A Witch Cannot Cross. How household curiosities become ritual protectors Jeremy Harte Common sense tells us that things happen in logical sequence.

Causes are succeeded by effects, and the arrow of time points forward. So when we encounter the magician and the poet, any suspicions we may feel about their strangeness are disarmed when we find that they talk in the same commonsensical way. Magic, just like craft or science, claims to make things happen. If you do this — if you bury a bottle, or stick pins in a heart, or hide an old shoe in the rafters — then that will follow: We may feel a little cloudy about the machinery by which magical causes produce magical effects, but we are confident that it follows the familiar direction.

And yet many old houses contain things that defy this specious logic: A luck is an object that must not be moved, broken or destroyed, for fear of dreadful consequences. Deprived of its favourite plaything, the ghost will turn sour; the nameless something locked in a bottle will burst free; the fairy charm that protects the house will be broken along with its fragile glass; and the former owner of a skull will return to shrieking life. Now at first view these lucks seem to be very similar to ritually concealed deposits.

In both cases we are dealing with the same sort of things — vessels, weapons, bodily remains and so on, which are carefully secreted about the house. But when examined more closely, they turn out to have a very different magical character. Whereas an apotropaic charm was placed with the sensible intention of achieving some defined magical purpose, the lucks were never positioned deliberately.

Their legendary aura developed over time, extending backwards before the date at which the artefacts were actually made, even as the objects themselves became more antique with each passing generation; the arrow of their history points forwards and backwards at the same time. This history has its bounds, for lucks do not last forever; in most cases only the story is left, and we have lost the physical object to which it was attached. In museum terms, this is a gilded and enamelled glass beaker, probably midth century, and of Islamic origin, ironically given its long preservation in a leather case embossed with the sacred IHS monogram.

As a magical object, however, it first appears in a ballad refrain of God prosper long from being broke The Luck of Eden Hall. The hazardous implications of this belief — on one occasion the luck was only prevented from shattering by an adroit catch from the butler — convey, paradoxically, a level of security. If the house will fall if the cup is broken, we can feel confident that while the cup remains whole then the house will stand. The same double meaning is found in the distich: Once again, the story tells of a servant going to the well to draw water, this time for a wedding feast, and meeting hobgoblins who offer to bless the wedding with the gift of a brass dish.

This time it was a royal heirloom, not a fairy gift. After a calamitous defeat of the Lancastrian forces, their troubled king Henry VI was found by shepherds wandering on the fells, a broken and defeated man. They took him to Sir John Pennington at Muncaster Castle, where he stayed until his strength was regained. Why the king should have gone into battle carrying a green glass bowl, and what had persuaded him to flee from the defeat of his cause clutching this rather vulnerable object, are things on which legend is silent.

Anyway, the Penningtons treasured the bowl. Every child of the family was baptised with water from it. For a time it went out of sight — because it was thrown from an upstairs window, or because it was concealed with the failure of the Lancastrian line; at all events, it was uncovered again when the danger seemed past, and was found to be uninjured. The Luck of Arniston was a Venetian glass cup. Katherine, the second wife of the 17th Dundas of Dundas, who died in , left the estate of Arniston to her son. Accompanying these lands, so they say, was the Luck, handed down with strict instructions that if it were lost or broken, misfortune would follow.

The line of Dundas flourished at Arniston through twelve successive proprietors, but the family subsequently moved. The cauldron was of modest size — eight inches in diameter, and five and a half deep — but would have been large enough to keep gold and jewels in security. The house became a ruin and the family died out, but the Purse, disinterred from the ruins of their hall by a tenant farmer, continued to be revered in the district. A man from Harris was out with the cattle when he came to a fairy hill, where he was made welcome, and handed the cup, full of whisky.

He was doing justice to this when a mortal girl who had been trapped among the fairies quietly warned him what was going on: So, drinking and joking, he edged bit by bit nearer to the door, and as soon as there was only one swallow of the whisky left, he raced for home.

The man was left clutching the cup, which he gladly presented to Macleod in exchange for a farm of land. Already in the 12th century, when Gervase of Tilbury passed on the first stories about theft from the fairies, these were attached to the kind of beautifully- worked vessel which could tempt the covetousness of a king. Curiously, though, stories of this kind were usually to be found away from aristocratic circles, in Yorkshire, Man and the Isles, as well as Cumbria. Since stories of the theft of a fairy cup are also common in Scandinavia, they are likely to have been spread by the Vikings in their settlement of these regions.

Here, however, the rules of the story are different: This is part of the mysterious activity of the trows, who etymologically derive from the trolls of Norway, but who in a gentler landscape have taken on the same character as the fairies further south. Several farms lay claim to a trowie vessel, among them Siggy Taft, where the man of the house was riding home past Stakkaberg. These were strange words: The farm people went into the byre and found that she had been milking the best cow into a pan which she had left behind her in her flight.

The pan, of curious workmanship, was kept for many generations in the farm, where they were careful to make the sign of the cross over it each night, and keep it hanging by the fire. One night someone neglected this precaution, and in the morning the pan was gone. After that the trows were always troublesome at Siggy Taft. A trow woman entered the house, her newborn baby at her side, and settled herself down comfortably by the dying fire.

Unable to move or speak, Forker watched the uncanny woman as she pulled out a tiny jar, or pig, of peculiar workmanship; it was full of ointment, with which she proceeded to anoint the baby. Up on the beams of the roof, a white cock crew, but the woman looked at it and carried on. Then the black cock crew, and she fled, dropping her ointment. That explains why fragments of unrelated legends have been pieced together in recollection; thus the trow at Siggy Taft uses words in the manner of the King of the Cats, a story in which a traveller hears some nonsensical phrase on the road, repeats it when he gets home, and sends an unearthly being scurrying off.

If something was strange, or old, or beautiful, or simply lying around the house for no apparent purpose, then the best way to explain its presence was to claim that it came from Faerie. There is a curious Yorkshire story, rather muddled by its literary Victorian retelling, of how a lad from Midridge went to the fairy hill and shouted defiance to the hidden people. The fairies pursued him and he fled to the shelter of the great hall. Night fell, and no-one dared venture out, but in the morning they opened the great door and found, stuck fast in it, the javelin of the fairy king, which had passed through oak beams and iron plating.

This singular relic was kept for many years at the hall. Out-of -place artefacts become mythologised, or sometimes ritualised, like the Good Sword of Winfarthing. This sword was celebrated throughout East Anglia; it had a chapel dedicated to its service in the parish church, and people thronged to pay their respects to it, and to pray for various blessings, such as the return of stolen property or, for women, a liberation from husbands that they disliked.

Such at least is the report made after the Reformation, when Norfolk people took a more jaundiced view of relics. Then a Protestant revealed the real story of the sword, which he had heard when a child in the days of ignorance: But in a domestic context, lucks are more likely to show negative power. At Edenhall, Tullallian and Siggy Taft, the protection of the object is manifested through the harm that does not happen so long as it is not fallen, broken, or lost.

Negative protection is sometimes the only gift offered by fairies or royalty, and is certainly all that may be expected from ghosts. At the Combermere Arms Hotel in the Cheshire village of Burleydam, a bottle is buried under the doorstep of the entrance to the hotel — a classic liminal location. This is the receptacle in which two clergymen imprisoned a ghost, and if the bottle is ever broken, the ghost will return worse than ever.

In the most fully developed versions, the ghost takes on a threatening gigantic form, and is gradually prayed down by a company of priests. Sometimes they are not up to the task — one by one, the dozen exorcists fail, their candles going out as the ghost begins to loom larger again, until only one the oldest, or the youngest, or an Oxford scholar is left, when the rest are able to relight their tapers from his and so finish the task.

At the end the ghost is reduced into a bottle or some other container and concealed, often in a pool. In Shropshire, for instance, we have Kinlet, where Sir George Blount died full of rage against his daughter, because she had made a marriage against the will of the testy old gentleman. Once he was dead and buried, she and her husband inherited Kinlet Hall but found it uninhabitable, what with the shapes that used to come up out of the pool nearby, and the phantom coach rattling down the grand staircase. The parsons came, and Sir George went into a bottle which they took to Kinlet church and left rather carelessly lying under his monument.

Children playing in the church would be earnestly warned by the cleaning lady not to meddle with the bottle, for if it should fall and break, Sir George would come again. The bottle was last seen in the s; ten years later it had vanished, and of those who remembered it, some said it was a small, flat bottle very much like the ones used for developing chemicals, which an amateur photographer might be expected to leave behind after a visit.

She would perch on a tree, or sit on a high wall, compulsively combing the hair of the baby that never was, and then desert her insubstantial child to leap on some benighted traveller. It was all too much, and a ring of parsons were gathered to exorcise her into a bottle, which they threw into Chetwynd Pond, and breathed a sigh of relief. Unlike stories from the West Midlands, which dwell on great houses and wicked aristocrats, these tales deal with hauntings in natural surroundings; there was a spirit or a witch apparently much the same thing to the Lincolnshire mind that sat on a bridge at Normanby, and pushed people into the water.

There they left her, but if ever the pot was raised she would come again as bad as ever. Iron pots have been found concealed in watery locations on the other side of the North Sea, in Holland: In East Halton, also in Lincolnshire, it was a hobthrust, one of those domestic fairies who will do good if respected and is capable of indignant harm otherwise.

He occupied Manor Farm, the house of the estate bailiff. Well, the owner would have his way; so she opened the door, locked it again carefully behind them, and pointed to an iron pot in the middle of the floor. There, that was it; on no account was he to touch it; the hobthrust had been in that pot for two hundred years or more, and so long as he was left undisturbed, he would do no harm, but if there were any attempt to move him, then there was no knowing what misfortune might follow. These ritualised objects hold stories which are missing from the much larger archive of concealed deposits and apotropaic charms.

And they remind us of something which we may forget when analysing the rituals behind mummified cats, witch bottles, and so on: The sober functionalism of magic — follow the instructions, do this and then that will happen — is often a surface discourse behind which wells up the more elemental need to tell a story about spirits and hauntings, protection and disaster, luck and dread.

Sampson Low, pp. William Musgrave as W. John Roby, Traditions of Lancashire London: Longman, —31 2nd series 1 pp. Charles Beard, Lucks and Talismans London: Shetland Times, p. Miller, 1 p. Cheshire Village Memories, ed. Cheshire Federation of Womens Institutes, 1 p. Burne, Shropshire Folk-Lore pp. Ethel Rudkin, Lincolnshire Folklore Gainsborough: The view from the Westcountry Jason Semmens Much of our knowledge of apotropaic practices in past centuries derives from the surviving physical traces found within archaeological contexts.

The wide geographic and temporal distribution of witch bottles, concealed shoes, horse skulls, other hidden animal remains and ritual protection marks found across England and Wales attests to a pervasive vernacular belief in the apotropaic properties of certain kinds of objects and symbols.

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These were purposively deployed and deposited in response to specific crises oftentimes associated with witchcraft or to serve a prophylactic role against more diffuse but usually malign spiritual threats. This group has been slow to attract scholarly attention. In addition to resolving cases of witchcraft focused upon the person of the bewitched, cunning-folk also offered a wider service for the protection of personal property. This chapter explores how these individuals employed folk-magic and the trappings of high ritual magic for apotropaic purposes and details the kinds of cases they were involved in, taking for its geographical scope the far South-West of England, specifically the counties of Cornwall, Devon and Somerset, the surviving sources making the region ideal for a discrete study.

Cunning-folk were purveyors of counter-magic who, from as early as the sixteenth century, were to be found living in or around urban centres, as the focus of economic and social activity, across the country. Most cunning-folk specialised in detecting the malevolent effects of witchcraft, and it was in this role that people resorted to them when they became sick of chronic or otherwise untreatable illnesses, usually of uncertain aetiology, or had animals ill, demanding some idea of who had bewitched them and what might be done to break a run of ill-fortune.

In this role they were specialists in folk-illness rather than folk medicine, focusing rather on identifying the cause of a malady. Cunning-folk were popularly known variously as conjurors, cunning-men and women, witch-detectors, wise-men and women, and wizards. All these terms were interchangeable. Besides witch-detection, cunning-folk incorporated other occult arts into their repertoires, such as fortune-telling and divination in its various forms, for the finding of lost or stolen goods. Some also offered their skills as herbalists.

Since they provided a service, using techniques they had learned and acquired, conjurors charged for their expertise, usually anything from a few shillings to a few pounds, depending on the particular ministration provided. Most cunning-folk practiced their trade part-time, in addition to regular employment: While farmers had access to veterinary medicine, undefined and persistent illness amongst their cattle led to suspicions of witchery and took them to their local conjuror for a cure.

Some conjurors also visited neighbourhoods offering prophylactics for the coming year, in effect running protection rackets, threatening ruination if their services were refused. In the South-West of England, the sources for cunning-folk overwhelmingly date from the nineteenth century, in large measure due to the growth of the regional press at that time. Conjurors are generally recognized today from contemporary newspaper accounts or reports of the more sensational court cases that resulted when one was brought to trial, oftentimes after a disgruntled client had lodged a complaint with the authorities, while some survive as literary characters in the later nineteenth and early twentieth-century folklore collections and in fiction.

Devon and Cornwall are well served by published folklore collections from the mid-nineteenth century onwards, while similar compendiums exist for Somerset and Dorset also. With who we wanted to do it, where we wanted to do it, how we wanted to sound, what we wanted to say.

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Liam Watson was crucial in the outcome of this EP, but what he did was set us free. So would you say this EP is the most accurate representation of who Hidden Charms are to this day? Of who Hidden Charms are — exactly. People would also bring it up or talk about frilly shirts. But the truth is, we have some influences of stuff like that, like everyone does, but we were advised that that was a good thing to do, we were 18 and we just got things a bit muddled up.

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How do you come together to write new music? Who plays what part in the process? We go in my shed, me and Ranald, and write. We go in my shed for three days and play guitars, and we have a keyboard in there. Not to rip anyone off, but to be really influenced by someone. You want to keep it as fresh as possible and keep changing. How was that and do you have any highlights from that tour? Playlist samples powered by the awesome Soundcloud. Videos provided by YouTube. Not a Facebook user? We use cookies to make sure we give you the best experience possible.

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