The impassioned clamouring of a trio of town criers from the towns of Winslow, Leighton Buzzard, and Hemel Hempstead in 1751 marks the beginning of this strange and terrible narrative. The three had been bribed to announce the 'ducking' of two people suspected of being involved in witchcraft in the Hertfordshire market town of Tring.
Sixteen years before the events in Tring, Parliament had decided that witchcraft would no longer be regarded a criminal conduct in the cause of justice and reason. The idea that witchcraft was ever regarded a criminal offense seems laughable to modern eyes, yet it claimed a slew of unlucky victims over the years as people suspected of partaking in its'sorcerous' practices were exposed to terrible barbarity in their executions. By the time the Witches Act was approved by Parliament in 1736, most people believed witchcraft was a fanciful belief born of ignorance. As they sought to show their educated superiority over the populace, this was a common sentiment among the governing elites. This, however, was not the case; long after the new legislation was enacted, a considerable number of intellectuals expressed ambiguity about the decisive denial of the existence of a supernatural evil.
For example, Joseph Addison, an influential English politician and writer in his new and 'educated' century, felt that 'there is, and has been, such a thing as witchcraft.'
The idea that the elite had moved beyond such absurdity and the oft-cited belief that witchcraft was consigned only to the heathen minds of the ignorant is perhaps a misleading generalization; portions of the country's educated men and women continued to believe in its existence and the principle that it could exist, but not in their own time. After all, magical devilment was probably not something one wanted to associate with their own 'advanced and educated times.'
In the mid-1400s, Europe was the birthplace of the witchcraft theory. Heinrich Kramer's The Malleus Maleficarum (The Hammer of Witches) was a major medieval treatise that was first published in Germany in 1487. The work elevates sorcery to a criminal level and responds to individuals who dabble in the black arts in a bold and unrepentant manner. Malleus lays forth the processes that should be followed in the trial of a suspected witch before recommending the death sentence as the sole sure treatment for their misdeeds - the typical'solution' being burning them alive at the stake.
The self-styled 'Witchfinder General,' a ghastly man named Matthew Hopkins who roamed East Anglia looking for witches and, together with his equally vile sidekick, John Stearne, was responsible for the condemnation and execution of approximately 200 alleged witches, was one of England's most infamous proponents of such a bible. His reign of terror, which began in 1644 and ended in 1647, was based on nothing more than boastful claims of possessing a'special commission' from Parliament to expel witches from the land. For his dreadful 'job,' he is reported to have made around £1,000.
However, over a century later, in 1751, this 'hammering of witches' was said to be an out-of-date idea, with the 'crime' of witchcraft being newly removed from the law books and relegated to its own violent and disgusting past. However, it appears that eradicating witchcraft and its ills from the minds of some of the more sceptical rural dwellers was more difficult.
People whose ears were pricked when they heard William Dell, Hemel Hempstead's town crier, holler the following on Monday, 14 April 1751 – Hemel Hempstead's market day: 'This is to give notice that on Munday [sic] next there is to be at Long Marston in the Parish of Tring two hill [sic] desposed [sic] persons to be ducked by the neighbours consent!' On market days in both Winslow and Leighton Buzzard, the identical announcement was made, assuring the largest possible crowds.
The announcement sparked a frantic buzz of expectation over the parish's holdings. The idea of a public spectacle would undoubtedly draw crowds; the fact that the nameless couple were to be 'ducked' proved to the ecstatic village residents that they were facing allegations of witchcraft, driving them even more insane. Following the decriminalization of witchcraft, peasants who felt witches had mistreated them could only bring the suspected malefactors to justice by lynchings. Such unlawful attacks may continue as long as there was a belief in these skills, resulting in gushing enthusiasm.
Ruth Osborne was a minor character in Hertfordshire's history. She and her husband, John Osborne, were 56 years old at the time, and their days were spent with combating the continual risk of poverty, which often led to begging for food and water from nearby farms. The Osbornes had been pushed out of the group and shunned as rumors circulated that the couple possessed sorcerous talents. This assumption was sparked by an encounter with a local farmer. The old Osbornes went to local farmer John Butterfield in the hamlet of Gubblecote, near Tring, on a desperate mission, begging him for some milk. Butterfield, on the other hand, was not in a generous mood. They limped away despondently, voicing their displeasure with the farmer as they departed, angrily discarding the pitiful couple.
Following Butterfield's interaction with the poor couple, a large number of his cattle began to die suddenly. Butterfield was perplexed by the magnitude of these strange fatalities, but before long, he was attributing the carnage to a curse the Osbornes had placed on him during their furious confrontation on his doorway.
Certainly, witchcraft was frequently used as an explanation for community tragedies, and this appears to be the case with the bewildered farmer; inexplicable livestock losses were common at the period, leading to accusations of sorcery. Butterfield may have seen the lady's looks as more proof of his views, since 'any woman with a wrinkled face, a furred brow, a hairy lip, a gobber tooth, a squint eye is not only suspected but proclaimed a witch!' some years earlier. This slogan had not yet totally faded into obscurity, and it might have played a role in Butterfield's concerns.
As the corpses piled up, it appeared that financial difficulties developed as well, leading to the decision that Butterfield could no longer support the farm. This, according to Butterfield, was clear evidence of the presence of a dark and evil power at work, and was most certainly the result of 'the witch Osborne' seeking vengeance for the confrontation at his property. The guy was quickly convinced of his newly-acquired 'bewitched' status, even stating that the witchcraft had not only afflicted his animals, but had also afflicted his body, operating on him in such a way that 'he barked like a dog, mew'd like a cat, and then made a noise like a fox.' If Butterfield intended to use these symptoms to 'prove' the old woman's witchcraft, he surely succeeded.
Butterfield's accusations of animal impersonation might have been made on purpose, as the capacity to transform people into animals is a recurrent theme in witch folklore. Hares and cats were popular transformations, but any animal shape could be assumed to serve a specific purpose, according to legend. Those 'in the guise of a hare would suck the udders of a cow at night, leaving them dry for milking the next morning,' according to legend. This idea has a long history; Giraldus Cambrensis – Gerald of Wales – stated in the eleventh century that sucking teats in this fictitious manner allowed one to "stealthily pilfer other people's milk." This was something Ruth Osborne, the 'witch,' could have done without the pleas on random doorsteps — the irony apparently missing on everyone, including Butterfield.
Butterfield's friends and neighbors had been persuaded for a long time that he was possessed, and they wanted irrefutable evidence. A friend of Butterfield's, Thomas Colley, had heard of a "cunning woman who liv'd deeper in the country," who, once consulted, would assess whether or not Butterfield was actually afflicted with mystical roguishness.
The mystery woman, who was paradoxically not thought to be skilled in the arts of witchcraft, affirmed that Butterfield had been affected by the evil arts and that the Osbornes were to blame. Following this confirmation, a group of other farmers decided to write the document, which was then screamed throughout the market towns. As the day of the ducking got nearer, the rumor mill in the vicinity picked up a frenzy. All thoughts were captivated by discussion of the approaching delivery of justice over bars in alehouses and hedgerows in fields and meadows. Hostility toward the Osbornes had reached a fever pitch, to the point that Matthew Barton, the supervisor of Tring's destitute, could tell that the growing mob mentality was planning a lot of trouble. In order to avoid total chaos, he relocated the Osbornes to the workhouse for their own protection.
However, by the evening of Sunday, April 21st, it was clear that this conservative course of action would be insufficient. Crowds were starting to form, both in terms of size and in terms of enmity. As a precaution, the scared couple were secretly relocated from the workhouse to the vestry of Tring Church in the early hours of Monday, April 22. The workhouse master, a John Tomkins, described the events around the workhouse just before the Osbornes were mercifully relocated:
‘A great mob came to the workhouse and demanded the old witch and wizard that came from Long Marston, meaning the said John Osborne and his wife, upon which he told them that they were not there, but the mob insisted that they were and if he did not let them in they would force in by violence.’
Faced with an ever-increasing throng, Tomkins had no choice but to open the yard gate and let them search the home and grounds. Inability to locate their desired quarry, however, only served to enrage the mob; stones were thrown at windows until they were all destroyed, one brick end of the house was pulled down, and very real threats were made to burn the rest of the building, which would then be followed by the destruction of the town itself. Under such stress, and frightened of the repercussions if the duo were not handed over to the crowd, they were whisked away to the vestry of the church, where the savage hunt resumed.
The vestry door was flung wide, and a swarm of people rushed in, capturing the frightened pair. Ruth was snatched by one of the crowd and dragged two miles to the chosen place of doom, where she was put across one of the mob's shoulders 'like a calf.' It would be feasible at this juncture to query the lack of authority; the whole affair was advertised and hardly a closely-guarded secret, yet nothing was done to halt the destruction in progress. Sebastien Grace, the local blacksmith and Tring policeman, was eventually summoned, but his arrival did nothing to calm the crowds: 'He is only the Constable, don't bother him!' they yelled, while others threatened his life. His appearance was mostly unnoticed; the mob had swelled to an estimated 4000 people by this point, and it would require a much larger authoritarian presence to have any influence on such a large crowd.
They'd come to Tring to witness the spectacle, and now, with their victims dragged through the crowds and beaten with sticks as a pitiful prelude to the day's main event, they made their way to the watery place of justice at Wilston Wear in Tring, with the presumed witch pleading helplessly along the way: 'For God's sake, don't murder me!' The pair was well aware of what was about to happen to them, since the horrors lurking under Wilston's dark waters were not veiled in mystery.
Immersion trials have a long history in England, where they were used to test witches from the early seventeenth century onwards. Suspected witches had their right thumbs bound to their left toes and their left thumbs to their right toes in a practice known as 'ducking.' To complete the degrading spectacle, a rope was tied around the wretched soul's waist and thrown into a river or pond without ceremony. The unlucky victim would be 'ducked' repeatedly by two men; if a suspected witch floated, justice had given a guilty judgement, the idea being that the'sacred water of baptism' had rejected them because of their sins. If they sunk, on the other hand, God's water had obviously welcomed them, indicating their purity.
The commotion that surrounds the pond as the Osbornes were taken to the water is described by various observers. Mr. Nott Gregory, a local farmer, reported that his children came into the home between the hours of two and three o'clock on Monday, April 22nd, stating, 'They have got them.' He walked into one of his fields and saw "a large number of individuals moving towards some water in a meadow," which he took to be the old couple. This paragraph demonstrates the case's local renown at the time, with even Gregory's children being aware of the pursuing fugitives' situation.
Harry Archer saw a guy he recognized as Charles Young, together with a few others, bring the disoriented woman to be ducked. Young then wrapped her in a sheet and tied the rope around her waist. She was then dragged into the center of the pond and lay down in the 5 foot deep water 'till it was felt she may die,' before being hauled out and placed on the bank for half an hour. Ruth Osborne's tormentors were not finished yet, as she was again brought into the water and repeatedly 'turned' by a local man Archer known as Thomas Colley, who twisted and poked her feeble and dying body with a huge stick. She wailed and sought to grab the stick for support whenever she was able to collect the energy to lift her head from the depths, but Colley ruthlessly yanked it from her, leaving her laying prone in the water and destroying every sliver of hope that remained for her. Her lifeless corpse was then dragged from the river and deposited on the water's side after the fight.
The incidents were also seen by Edward Chapman. Two men grabbed Ruth and dragged her to the center of the pond, he witnessed. Her husband John was also hauled over after she was finished, albeit his treatment was not as harsh. The covering came off the alleged witch while Chapman was dragging her about, leaving her 'very bare,' and Chapman assumed she was already dead, 'drowned in the way aforesaid.' One of those involved for Ruth's ducking, Thomas Colley, strode over her prone and filthy body, mingled with the audience, and shamelessly demanded cash for 'the pleasure he had given them in ducking the old witch.'
Ruth's lifeless and wrinkled body was subsequently taken to Wilstone Green's Half Moon public house. Ruth Osborne was hauled to the landlord's house by a "quite large mob of individuals, in a rowdy fashion, and carried upstairs," according to the landlord. She was then placed in a bed and permitted to rest in some sort of 'calm,' in contrast to the unnatural and crazy events of the day. John Foster, a local surgeon, examined the body as it lay in Wilstone Green. "She got to her death by being choked with water and dirt and suffering to be on chilly ground for a significant period," he concluded.
Meanwhile, the throng began to return home, satisfied with their day's partying. The landlord stated that he didn't know any of the people involved in the mob, but as a local victualler, I have my doubts about this allegation. However, his unwillingness to name any of individuals involved was far from unique - the vast majority of people were adamantly opposed to naming those involved, most likely due to fear of retaliation if specific identities were disclosed. They had, after all, demonstrated their destructive nature by demolishing the workhouse. One individual, on the other hand, was not so fortunate in avoiding detection. Perhaps his vulgar pleas for silver at the pond after the murder had cemented his place in the minds of those who had seen the crime. Thomas Colley, as the 'Tring Chimney Sweep,' or as the 'Tring Chimney Sweep,' would have been a well-known, if not dirty, figure in the neighborhood.
Despite the apparent joy that Ruth Osborne's death had brought to the guilty people, their acts were completely prohibited. Attempts to gather the participants were challenging and frequently futile. Colley was rather easy to arrest; his mind and body heavily damaged by alcohol, he was quickly apprehended and taken to the County Gaol in Hertford, where he was charged with the murder of Ruth Osborne. Property destruction and attacks were treated with the same – if not more – seriousness than attacks on people. Those responsible for the riotous behavior during the search for the Osbornes were also sought after for this purpose, but not with much urgency. An inquiry was held before the justices in Tring for a month, giving those involved plenty of time to flee the devastation they had created.
On the 25th of April, the Half Moon alehouse welcomed a far more solemn crowd than usual, as coroner Samuel Atkinson presided over an inquest held there, with twenty-five 'honest and lawful men from several parishes' returning a verdict of wilful murder against Colley and a further twenty-one known and unknown persons. The trial for Colley was planned for July 30, 1751, although it was unclear who may be charged with the chimney sweep. 'A man called Charles Young and another named William Humbles, both of Leighton Buzzard, were as much interested as Colley in imposing brutality on the body of Ruth Osborne at the ducking site,' according to Reverend Johnson, one of Tring's justices. He went on to say that several others who were known to be involved in the incident had already eluded capture and had thereby beaten the warrants out for their arrest.
The destiny of the escapees were diametrically opposed to Colley's condition. He was imprisoned in Hertford, awaiting a murder trial, with only his thoughts and anxieties for company. He could, however, take solace in the fact that the number of trials resulting from the detention of suspected witches was minuscule at most. Colley's destiny would be revealed shortly, as the Summer Assizes in Hertford loomed even bigger. The 30th of July, 1751, had been well publicized, not only locally but also nationally. With the ongoing drive to eradicate the 'yokel beliefs' of witchcraft and encourage its extinction from England, such cases needed to generate a commotion of the masses, which could hammer home the understanding that the vilification of suspected witches would be severely punished; such cases needed to generate a commotion of the masses, which could hammer home the understanding that the vilification of suspected witches would be severely punished.
Lord Chief Justice William Lee was responsible for the imposition of such penalty. Lee was a pioneer in his attitude toward women, speaking up for their rights more vehemently than any English judge before or since his time; perhaps he was the best choice in this case. On that late-July day, Lord Chief Justice Lee was in charge. Colley was regularly observed sobbing while the indictment against Colley, Humbles, and Young was announced, reflecting on the dreadful situation he had found himself in. Despite his lamentations, he appeared collected for the most part.
Despite arriving home late from the trial, the Reverend Johnson offered a brief written account of the proceedings, which he later sent to Lord Cowper. We find that Mr Fagin Slale was the grand jury's foreman, the man who announced a 'guilty' judgement against Colley and his two accomplices in the murder charge. The judgement of condemnation was subsequently delivered by Lord Chief Justice Lee. The body of Thomas Colley was to be hung in chains on Wilstone Green, but with the caveat that it be kept a closely-guarded secret so that the 'Sheriff may not be interrupted with too great a mob at the erecting of the gibbet, or suspending of the body thereon'; this was yet another example of how well-known the case had become. Humbles and Young were also found guilty of murder, although with a minor role in the crime, and luckily managed to flee with their lives.
Richard Symonds, John Eastoffe, John Waters, John Mayos, Benjamin Price, and Henry Worster were all charged with tearing down the workhouse, but only the latter was apprehended; discovered in Buckinghamshire, he was imprisoned at Hertford until more of his comrades were apprehended, at which point they would all be tried together at the next assizes. Lord Chief Justice Lee expressed his wish for such 'hazardous riotous assemblages' to be properly punished, as this was very important for the 'ordinary people who were increasingly inspired to conduct disruptions of this type.' Furthermore, he maintained that similar incidents would continue to scar the county unless they were limited by precedents of punishment inflicted on like-minded individuals. As a result, his goal was to sentence them in a way that would "prevent them from spitting on the same rocks."
Thomas Colley could only live in terror of death once his fate was laid open in front of him. This fear is far worse than the pains of death, and on Friday, August 16th, the day before his scheduled execution, he was told by the Reverend Mr Bourchier that he would have to live with these anxieties for another week - a reprieve had been granted, extending his agony. During this brief exchange of sugar-coating, the reverend also informed the convicted man that he would be transported alive to the murder site, where he would meet his end, before being hung in chains. Colley was stunned at hearing these hard truths – perhaps he had gone deaf when the Lord Chief Justice had earlier proclaimed his doom – and prayed that his frequent and sincere prayers to almighty God would provide him with the ability to endure the enormous weight of his miseries.
He penned a letter to his wife that night, gripped by the fear of his impending death, pledging his continued love for her and stating that he 'had a very deep yearning' to see her before his execution.
Colley demands that if she can stand such a visit, she should come to him as soon as possible while he is still'sensible,' as he fears his faculties may begin to fail as his final day approaches. Before signing: 'From your dying husband, Thomas Colley,' he asks his children to sorrow his tortured heart.
In further letters to pals, he expresses similar feelings. His letters to Samuel Holmes are particularly interesting, in which he admits to committing a "poor unlucky deed" and unjustly inflicting such anguish on "the best of spouses" and "the honestest miserable loving creature that ever a poor unhappy man had." The letters have an undertone of utter terror if God does not forgive his misdeeds. Colley begs for prayers for himself and his family, while urgently hoping to make sincere repentance with God; physical death was one thing, but the anguish of uncertainty about God's judgment was extremely crucial — no one was guaranteed a state of grace.
Colley was visited in the jail by a gentleman who had been sent to persuade him of his "erroneous belief in believing that there was such such thing as witchcraft" shortly after he had penned these letters. Colley began by recounting the events behind his involvement in the unsatisfactory relationship. Colley stated that the purportedly mistreated farmer, John Butterfield, took over a nearby alehouse after he abandoned his property due to the death of several of his cattle. On the day of the murder, when the mob poured on town, Colley left his job and went to Butterfield's inn, where he and others were plied with 'gin and other liquors.'
Colley and the other drunken men were urged on by the landlord to carry out their plan for this hasty and cruel conduct. Colley admitted to being in the workhouse when it was demolished, but he said he had no recollection of actively looking for the Osbornes. Colley also related a strange and fantastical story about how he came to believe Ruth Osborne was a witch, claiming that she had seemingly bewitched her own brother some years before. After hearing these stories, the gentleman attempted to persuade Colley that there was no basis or justification for his belief in witchcraft, because if she had been proficient in such ways, she would have anticipated and so avoided the awful suffering she was forced to. Colley was allegedly persuaded to a firm view that witches had no'manner of existence save in the brains of poor infatuated people' after more discussion between the two. Colley was satisfied at this point, but a realization of the horrible nature of his conduct had now dawned on him.
However, as his comprehension grew, so did the terror of his impending demise. He grew so upset that he began to believe he would lose his senses once he arrived at the execution site. This would imply that he was unable to utter the final words he desired to say to the audience. Colley stated that he would write down these statements and carry them to the execution site as information for the "ignorant and misinformed country people."
Colley was guaranteeing that his message and ultimate begs for pardon could be spoken even if his mind was suppressed under such intense terrors that he was left unable of expressing his remarks vocally. Colley was removed from his cell at ten o'clock in the morning the day before his execution and led to a chamber in the keeper's home, where Reverend Bourchier gave the sacrament. This was followed by a'suitable and superb' sermon, during which Colley was visibly moved. He was then placed in a one-horse chaise, which was driven by the same man who would, in only a few hours, be responsible for ending Colley's purgatory by hanging him till he died. He arrived at St Albans at three o'clock and was taken to the jail, where he would spend his final hours on this planet. His final visits were his wife and kids, who tried heroically to cheer him up. We don't know how Colley felt on his last night, but it's reasonable to imagine he had a very sleepless night. Colley was placed in the same chaise at 5 a.m. the next morning, with his executioner in charge once more of Colley's fatal voyage. As his final minutes ticked away, he inhaled the sights, scents, and microscopic objects that were formerly regarded with ordinary monotony now reeked with importance.
When the chaise arrived at Butterfield's alehouse, Colley made the startling statement that if he had realized the implications of murdering an innocent woman, he would not have gone through with it.
He glared accusingly at the pub, reiterating that the tavern's landlord was the driving force behind the heinous crime. This may be seen as displacing his own portion of culpability, though perhaps his claims of ignorance to the consequences of ‘ducking’ deserve some credence; had he understood the severity of the repercussions, for example, surely the foul display would not have been advertised throughout the county so blatantly. He was brought to the execution site by an amazing 108 soldiers and seven officers of the Horse Guards, who arrived at eleven o'clock. A squad of this size to protect a single offender was unprecedented, but it served as a symbolic demonstration of resistance and power in the hopes of deterring future crimes and, of course, destroying the belief in witchcraft, which is still prevalent in this region of the nation.
Lord Chief Justice Lee's stipulation that Colley's execution be kept secret was, at best, a whimsical notion. Even in the very rudimentary times of 1751, keeping an affair of this magnitude hidden was quite unlikely. Indeed, if the judges' instruction was meant to be strictly followed, the sheep disobeyed it. 'Thousands stood at a distance, grumbling that it was a hard case to execute a man for murdering a terrible old woman who had done so much evil by her witchcraft,' according to the Everyday Book of 1751. Even at the time of Colley's death, popular opinion was firmly on the side of the wrongdoer.
Colley was said to have acted with great dignity and resignation at the tree. The Reverend Mr Randal, Minister of Tring, was in attendance, and the two prayed together as Colley prepared for the realities of death. Colley was specific in his wish for the minister to deliver his final remarks, which he had prepared the night before, as a result of his aforementioned fears of getting delirious during the ceremony. Mr Randal took hold of the document and read Colley's farewell address on behalf of the condemned man in a forceful voice:
‘Good people! I beseech you all to take warning by an unhappy man’s suffering; that you be not deluded into so absurd and wicked a conceit, as to believe that there are any such beings upon earth as witches. It was that foolish and vain imagination, heighten’d and inflamed by the strength of liquor, which prompted me to be instrumental (with others as mad-brain’d as myself ) in the horrid and barbarous murder of Ruth Osborne, the supposed witch, for which I am now so deservedly to suffer death. I am fully convinced of my former error, and with the sincerity of a dying man, declare, that I do not believe there is such a thing in being as a witch; and pray God that none of you, thro’ a contrary persuasion, may hereafter be induced to think, that you have a right in any shape to persecute, much less endanger the life of a fellow-creature. I beg of you all to pray to God to forgive me, and to wash clean my polluted soul in the blood of Jesus Christ, my saviour and Redeemer, So exhorteth you all, the dying
Thomas Colley’
The wagon was pulled from under Colley, and he slid softly to his death, signaling the end of this miserable man, in stark contrast to Ruth Osborne. Colley's destroyed shell was then prepped for the chains after hanging for the stipulated period. While his life had come to an end, his final comments would become part of a larger effort to clear people's minds of the illogical 'logic' of witchcraft. His letter was an emphatic message, probably definitely meant to pervade the general awareness and elicit a transformation in the naïve views that were still firmly embedded in some.
Colley's statements may have been a reflection of a man who had seen the folly of his actions. Or, more likely, the phrases were imposed on Colley by law enforcement and government authorities of the time, who may have attempted to profit from the catastrophe at Tring in order to help attempts to promote the message that witches were extinct. The signed paper and accompanying warnings might be transmitted to the entire society with such a 'confession,' reinforcing the much-aspired-to and desirable belief that witchcraft was merely a fallacy.
Such an episode might be used by the corridors of power to broadcast this message to some of the more remote regions of the 'unenlightened,' as well as to put an end to the barbarous witch hunts that had been a disgusting blot on England. Colley's final statements on Earth, however, may possibly have given an unusual platform for removing the oppressive behavior he himself had engaged in, ultimately leading to him paying the ultimate penalty.