I think it must be put on record that witches sometimes did good even if they committed evil to bring it about. To do this, I shall have to step just over the boundary of the North into the West Riding. There was a widow residing in the village of Aldfield, whose son, her only support, lay at death’s door: he, so I was informed, was afflicted with a disease which was consuming his vitals. After the matter had been fully discussed by the neighbours, the consuming of his vitals was pronounced to be the result of a bad wish, the evil eye, or a witch spell, and, according to their verdict, one Nanny Appleby was suspected of being the spell-worker. Nanny lived somewhere on the other side of Dalla Moor. This must have been before the days of the wise man of Mickley, or assuredly thither the widow would have gone. It seems that the poor mother screwed up courage to seek Nanny out herself, hoping to appease her—an almost hopeless task. Anyway, early one morning off she set; fortunately she met the old witch before she had completed half her journey.
On being questioned, Nanny swore she was innocent, but declared she knew what ailed the lad, and offered to go back with her and cure him. In much fear and trembling, the widow returned with Nanny, to the astonishment of the whole village. After having been left alone with the young fellow for some little time, Nanny told the weeping mother that her lad was possessed of a devil, which she promised to drive out. By what means she managed to induce the devil to let go his hold ’of the vitals’ is not known; but a terrific fight took place, furniture was smashed and pots were broken, amidst yells Satanic, and Nanny came off victorious. Having got the devil out of the young fellow, the next thing was, what must be done with the little imp? Nanny, however, seems to have been equal to the occasion. Of course such a doubtful customer could not be allowed to roam about at his own sweet will; oh dear no, Nanny would not grant a favour of that kind. The spirit was commanded to enter the body of a certain Tom Moss. Probably she had a spite against Tom; anyway the order seems to have been most promptly obeyed, for within a month Tom was found drowned in Grantley Lake. The invalid recovered, and so there is no doubt about anything.
The following witch story unfortunately is wanting in one or two points of interest. I am unable to give the witch’s name, or with certainty her dwelling-place. One or two things, however, tend to the belief that she was the Ayton witch, who flourished about 1750-80. If in this I am correct, she was known as Au’d Nanny; and though a native of Stokesley, she lived for many years in a tumble-down old cottage in the far corner of the green near the mill at Great Ayton.
Though doubtless a terror in her day, nearly all her deeds, like herself, have passed away. Two or three stories are yet told concerning Au’d Nanny, but they are unauthenticated and of doubtful origin. They seem to me most like latter-day ghost stories told to terrify children, with Nanny’s name tacked on to them. They preserve her memory and christian name, and that is all.
One story, however, I had from an old lady whose grandmother once had an encounter with Au’d Nanny. As the story was told to me in that matter-of-fact way which leaves small room for imagination to exploit itself, I have no doubt it was repeated, for my benefit, as her mother or grandmother had told it her years before. The main interest of the story lies in the fact that it contains a witch’s curse, and sets forth the proposition that a witch had the power not only of assuming the form of one recently dead, but could even inhabit the body itself.
To divest the story of much repetition and redundancy, it will be better to keep mainly to ordinary English.
It seems that her grandmother lived at Stokesley, and had a cousin living at Kildale, to whom she was deeply attached. This cousin’s name was Martha Sokeld. One day Martha was taken very ill, and sent for her cousin Mary Langstaff to come at once and nurse her. Mary sent word back she would be along directly; so after she had cleaned up and ‘putten things ti reets,’ she put on her hood and shawl and set off to walk to Kildale—‘an’ it’s a goodish step an’ all, Ah can tell ya; an’ ther’s nowt aboot that.’ Well, when Mary had walked above halfway, she saw an old woman ’hoppling alang t’ road.’ It seems there was something about the old lady which struck Mary as curious—‘sha didn’t leyke t’ leeak on her.’ What it was which made her feel certain the old body approaching was none other than ’t’ au’d witch[31],’ she never could tell, but such became her conviction. So, to avoid the necessity of speaking to her, she stooped down and commenced to cull flowers from the hedge side. But on the old witch drawing near, she called out in a creaking voice, ‘Thoo’s neea call ti hing thi heead doon i’ that waay. Ah ken tha, Mary Langstaff, reet weel; aye, ez weel ez if thoo ow’d ma summat. Noo, ’t wadn’t ’a’e cossen[32] tha mich ti ’a’e passed t’ tahm o’ daay wi’ ma; bud sitha, Ah s‘an’t forgit ti-daay, an’ Ah knaw all ’at thoo off’ns sez aboot ma an’ all; but Ah’ll paay tha oot for ’t, Ah’ll paay tha oot for ’t.’ She then banged the ground three times with her stick, and when my informant’s grandmother looked up, the witch had disappeared. The reason why the witch did not do her an injury at that time was easily accounted for—she happened to be wearing in her bosom a bunch of wicken-tree, i.e. mountain ash, berries.
On arriving at her cousin’s, she found her almost recovered. She stayed with her a few days and then returned to Stokesley—this was on a Monday afternoon. Much to her surprise, who should walk in on Wednesday evening but Martha Sokeld. Martha told her she had had another bad bout, and felt she was not going to last long, but before she died she would like to see her sister who lived at Northallerton. She had got a ride so far on the way that afternoon, and then, after a night’s rest, she thought she would be able to go by the carrier to Northallerton. Just then she felt very tired, and thought if Mary would go over to Hannah’s and get her to put some things together which she wished to send to her sister, she could manage to get a nap lying on the settle. She was most pressing that Mary should not hurry back, but stop a good hour, giving as an excuse—she did not wish to be ‘wakken’d efter sha ’ed yance gitten ti sleep.’ Mary went to Hannah’s, but there was a something that made her feel very uneasy—she did not know what it was; ‘an’ i’ t’ end it gat sike a grip on her, ‘at sha left an’ set off yam agaan.’ So that she should not awaken her cousin if she had fallen asleep, she approached the house very quietly; and peeping between the shutters (they did not fit very closely), she beheld a sight which made her ’oppen wide baith e’es’—her cousin, instead of being asleep, was sitting in front of a blazing fire, dropping things into a pan ‘an’ saying ower an’ up agaain’—
Fire cum,
Fire gan,