Back to Nicholas Rhea home page Back to the Author homepage

Nicholas Rhea's Diary

Friday, January 20, 2006

Witchpost from Postgate Farm, Glaisdale

One of the more curious features of the central North York Moors of England was the use of so-called witch posts in cottages. Witch post is the fairly modern name for a tall piece of oak wood which, in the seventeenth century, supported the smoke-hood of the inglenook fireplace. It stood on the floor and was incorporated within the structure, being distinguished by carvings on the face near the top. The carvings varied but most included a cross which was shaped like an X. Sometimes there were scroll-like effects beneath the X; on occasions hearts and other designs were incorporated, perhaps with a date.
With only one exception, these posts were located in cottages in and around the North York Moors. The exception is one discovered in a house at Rawtenstall in Lancashire. In all cases, the posts were made of oak wood, they all formed part of the structure of the building and the carving was of the style popular in the seventeenth century. Indeed one post in a Glaisdale house bears the date 1664. It is not certain how widespread was the carving of these posts, but surviving examples have been found at Glaisdale, Danby, Rosedale, Gillamoor, Farndale, Egton, Goathland, Lealholm and Silpho near Scarborough, a rather compact, if somewhat wild area of the moors. Some have been removed while others remain in situ.
Examples can be found in the Pitt Rivers Museum at Oxford and the Ryedale Folk Museum at Hutton-le-Hole. There is no record to suggest how many posts were destroyed or removed during modernisation of the cottages and it is interesting to note that past authorities such as Canon Atkinson and Richard Blakeborough, in their comprehensive books about the moors, make no reference to them.
Close interest in these posts stems from the last seventy years or so and in the absence of any known explanation for their presence, it was assumed (without any real evidence) that, when carved, they were a form of protection against witches.
In medieval times and more recently, country people believed witches cast evil spells upon them, their homes and their cattle and so made use of various charms to keep them away, including witch bottles under the threshold. Other deterrents included horseshoes, the wood of the rowan tree and a bewildering host of very local charms.
But were these posts really a form of protection against witchcraft, or did they serve another purpose? Although our superstitious forebears used a wide range of charms against witches, the X-shaped cross does not seem to feature among them. Apart from being the cross of St Andrew, this is also the Greek symbol for Christ and so we might ask - who carved those oak posts? And why? Clearly, it was someone skilled with wood carving tools and it would take some considerable time to complete each one. If the purpose was to deter witches, why not simply nail a horseshoe to a post or make use of some other simple charm? Why use oak, not rowan wood? And why place it inside the house instead of outside where witches would see it? And was the carving done upon a post already in position, or was it specially created?
The fact that these so-called witch posts have been credited with being a deterrent has been disputed by folk lore experts, but it may be significant that before they were given that name, they were known as priest marks or priest posts. The theory was that a priest would visit the house to "lay the witch" and then secure the premises against further trouble by marking it with a cross.
If this was the case, why did the priest not make use of the better-known cross of Christ's crucifixion? One persistent theory is that the posts were the work of a travelling priest, hence the Lancashire example, and bearing in mind the date of 1664, a famous priest was working in the moors at that time. Because he was a Catholic, however, he had to work in secret and his "parish" included the villages I've named.
He was Nicholas Postgate, a native of Egton Bridge who studied at Douai in France before returning, in secret, to the English Mission.
At first, he worked around Tadcaster and other places in the East and West Ridings, but early in 1660, he returned to the North York Moors, living at Ugthorpe and going about his mission disguised as either a gardener or a pedlar. His life was always at risk from pursuivants as he celebrated Mass in cottages, cattle sheds and other secure places.
He travelled those moors from 1660 until 1679 when he was executed on York's Knavesmire for baptising a child. In 1664, therefore, (the date on the witch post to which I referred earlier) he would be walking those moors and visiting houses. In some cases, houses were marked to indicate their occupants' willingness, in spite of the risks, to accommodate a travelling priest. The sign was five vertical lines etched in stone above the doorway, said to represent the five wounds of Christ.
The 1664 witch post was, coincidentally, installed at Postgate Farm, Glaisdale and it bears the initials EPIB which may be the first letters of the opening line of a Latin prayer. I have a Catholic missal dated 1688 but can't trace in it any specific prayers for laying witches, although it does contain prayers for King James, Queen Mary and the Dowager Queen Katherine.
So if these posts indicate the visit of a priest travelling in secret, might they signify a room where Mass could be safely celebrated? Or were they merely confirming the house had been blessed? And if the priest did not carve the crosses on the posts, who did? And why? I don't know the answers although I doubt if Postgate Farm is named after the martyr. The place-name Postgate dates from the thirteenth century, long before his time, and it means a road marked by posts. Whatever the purpose of these curious posts, some of which may have been installed after the death of Nicholas Postgate, it is interesting to speculate that the Martyr of the Moors may be associated with some of them.

Posted by Peter N. Walker @ 09:12 AM GMT [Link]

Tuesday, January 3, 2006

January sunset

January sunset

January is named in honour of the two-faced pagan deity, Janus, who was believed to be gatekeeper of the home of the gods, the equivalent of what became the Christian idea of heaven and, because he faced two ways, he was able to look backwards and forwards at the same time. Like Janus, we can look back to the past to gain experience while looking forward in hope for the future.
The intercession of Janus was also sought by those who were starting new enterprises; in addition to his gatekeeping duties, he was considered the god of new beginnings. In ancient pagan Rome, the start of any new day, month or year was dedicated to Janus rather than any of the many other gods, and on January 9, there was a huge festival in his honour with feasting and dancing.
In pre-Christian Rome, therefore, all gates, doorways and other entrances, whether in private houses or public buildings, including the gates of the city, were considered to be under his protection. One odd name for him was Consivius which meant "the sower" and under this guise, he was worshipped by farmers and landowners because his intercession was always sought at the beginning of any new farming or agricultural enterprise.
Some theories suggest that the god Janus was really based on a human person, an ancient king of Latium, and for that reason it was possible to produce several visual images. Apart from his distinctive two faces, something a human would not normally possess, Janus is often depicted as a heavily bearded man, generally carrying in his hands either a staff or a set of keys.
Apparently, some images show him without a beard, and in some instances where he does not hold either the staff or keys, the fingers on his right hand will show the number 300, written in the Roman form of CCC. Similarly, the fingers of his left hand will show the number 65 (LXV), the total coming to 365, the number of days in a year.
In pre-Christian Rome, there was a temple dedicated to Janus and probably founded by Romulus, the double barbican gate of which was kept open during times of war, but closed in peacetime. It was said to have been shut only four times before the Christian era but it seems the reason for leaving the gates open during wartime was to enable the city's armies to come and go without hindrance whenever they were speedily needed. The open gate, under the protection of Janus, was also said to ensure good fortune. Indeed, some archways and gates were later named Janus.
Although January is the first month of our year, it was not always so. An early Roman calendar, from which ours is derived, was based on an even more ancient Greek system. The start of a year in that Greek calendar was in what we could call June, ie, upon the new moon nearest the summer solstice. The months were all named after Greek gods and later the Greeks adapted an Egyptian system.
The very ancient Egyptian and Greek calendars each had twelve months, always with the intractable problem of dividing the year into a number of precise days. When the Romans produced one of their early calendars, they also named the months after their own gods, and so their months were Martius, Aprilis, Maius,
Iunius, Quintilis, Sextilis, September, October, November, December, Ianuarius and Februarius. Of these, Martius, Maius, Quintilis and October each had 31 days, with the others having 29 except for Februarius which had 28.
Ianuarius and Februarius were tagged onto the end of an earlier Roman year which consisted of ten months - and all this was long before the Christian era. Problems of calculating the exact length of a year caused immense problems, not only in the European calendars but also across the known world and it seems that the Romans eventually settled on March 1 as the beginning of their year. In BC 713, the Roman emperor Numa instituted a feast day on the first day of January (Ianuarius) in honour of Janus and so from that time January 1 was considered the start of their year.
In this country, our official year began on March 25 which was Lady Day. The continuing world-wide problems in calculating the length of a year down to the nearest minute prompted Pope Gregory XIII to examine the calendar in depth. As a result, in 1582 he produced the calendar which we still use. Here in England, being a newly Protestant country, his changes were regarded as some kind of Catholic plot and so this country refused to accept his calendar. Eventually, however, it was adopted in 1752 when January 1 became the legal start of our new year.

Posted by Peter N. Walker @ 10:20 AM GMT [Link]


Search entries:

Powered By Greymatter

Back to Author main page