An Exorcism in Elizabethan London | History Today
Jessie Childs recounts the chilling story of an exorcism performed in an Elizabethan household in Hackney
Fascinating and chilling article.
“The priests saw and heard what they fervently wanted to see and hear: a terrified girl, susceptible to maladies and mood swings, inhabited by the devil and in desperate need of the miraculous cure that only the Catholic Church could provide. Harsnett, Bancroft and their faction were equally bent on concluding that Sara was a victim of ‘egregious Popish imposture’. If both camps were guilty of exploitation and sensational writing, it might charitably be attributed to artistic licence: reality might have been heightened, but it was still reality, still the truth, in the eyes of its beholders.”
Malleus Maleficarum Index
Continuing on with October-themed goodness, have a translation of The Hammer of Witches (1486), the most infamous book on witch-hunting.
Happy October! 😀
Twa Corbies, recorded by Cannach
Twa Corbies (or Two Ravens) is a traditional Scottish/English folk song. It was first collected and published in 1611 by Thomas Ravenscroft (tell me that isn’t just fun, name-wise), in his collection Melismata. It is recorded as Child Ballad #26.
International Music Source Library Project’s Entry (includes PDF sheet music): [Link]
There is a “happier” version of the song, but I like the cynical one better.
As I was walking a’ alane,
I heard twa corbies makin’ a mane.
The tane untae the tither did say,
Whaur sail we gang and dine the day, O.
Whaur sail we gang and dine the day?
It’s in ahint yon auld fail dyke
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there
But his hawk and his hound, and his lady fair, O.
But his hawk and his hound, and his lady fair.
His hound is to the hunting gane
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady ta’en anither mate,
So we may mak’ our dinner swate, O.
So we may mak’ our dinner swate.
Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I’ll pike oot his bonny blue e’en
Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair
We’ll theek oor nest when it grows bare, O.
We’ll theek oor nest when it grows bare.
There’s mony a ane for him maks mane
But nane sail ken whaur he is gane
O’er his white banes when they are bare
The wind sail blaw for evermair, O.
The wind sail blaw for evermair.