Reflection in Glass

Originally I was going to entitle this installment "Get Thee Back, Sorrow" a line from a poem titled "Youth and Sorrow" I just recently read in The Poets of the Nineteenth Century (1878), but decided to scrap it. At the time I thought it an appropriate title for the latest in my series of curious curios concerning the always charming witch ball. As with any informative post I make I do perform the necessary amount of research; sadly upon doing on this specific topic I came up with very little useful information. A bulk of it being rather inaccurate—a conflation really of various similar curiosities, which would ultimately confuse anybody with out prior familiarity. In any event what useful resource I could dig up was quite interesting and I just would love to share it with you.


As it is always best to begin at the beginning; one who is not acquainted with the term “witch ball” must wonder what one is, what one does, and where does one come from? The witch balls that I speak of are these wonderful objects made of glass. Typically they are seven inches (or eighteen centimeters) in diameter, yet they can be much larger. Historically they are silvered (reflective as a mirror) and produced in various colors sometimes decorated with elaborate swirling pattern. These orbs would be suspended in a corner of the home or a window. Their primary function was to prevent ill wish, misfortune, and malefic witchcraft by reflecting. Another theory proposed by the Museum of Witchcraft (Boscastle) asserts that “some believe that the glass ball will itself attract the influences of ill-luck and ill-wish that would otherwise have fallen upon the household.” These types of glass balls within the museum’s collection (museum nos. 939, 1464, and 1501) were manufactured in England by the Nailsea glassmakers who were a group of glassmakers who established themselves southwest of Bristol in the year 1788.

In doing research I ran across a reference to witch balls being used as a speculum or "shew" stone; a device in which one sees the future, yet these glass balls should not be confused with those old exquisite glass floats used by fishermen, which has long since been replaced with their horrid plastic contemporaries. Glass fishing floats have a very special place within the areas such as the southwest of England. It was these float that have the uncanny ability to channel images; as noted by contemporary witchcraft matriarch Doreen Valiente.

A close relative (and in my opinion are a possible origin) of the witch ball are the reflective spherical glass gazing globs, which were originally hand blown in thirteenth-century Italy. Allegedly King Ludwig II of Bavaria (known as Mad King Ludwig; and a very dapper gentleman if you ask me) had taken a liking to these globs and adorned the ground of Herrenchiemsee Palace (also known as Neues Schloss or "New Palace"). Interestingly enough in the small town of Lauscha, Germany in the mid-nineteenth-century (circa 1847) glass artisans were created small decorative orbs for Christmas trees, i.e. the Christmas kugel. Of course Ludwig's reign lasted from 1864 to 1886 so the dates do not match and English witch balls predate the kugel by approximately fifty year or so.

The Imperial Dictionary (the basis of Webster's English Dictionary) lists an entry for "witch ball" but defines it as "a name given to interwoven roller-like masses of stems of herbaceous plants." This sort of witch ball is nothing new in The Historical Magazine (1870, vol. 17-16, p. 57-8) collected a story titled, "'Wooballs,' 'Hairballs' and 'Witchballs'" that talks about a bewitched calf who upon being eviscerated was found a ball of hair implanted by a witch. These type of ball made of hair appear many times in literature of the period. Of course a hairball is a far cry from a one wrote of plant matter, however, the intent seems to remain the same.


Glass witch balls are produced today by many glassblowing artisans; always remember it is best to keep them polished for effectiveness.

Twist Ye, Twine Ye!

Twist ye, twine ye! even so.
Mingle shades of joy and woe,
Hope and fear, and peace and strife,
In the thread of human life.
-Sir Walter Scott, Guy Manning

A rather lovely way to start off a new post, no? I have been wanting to write about common charms that are associated with witchcraft for some time; my previous entry on witch bottles has kicked off this series of magical devices whose intent vary from the protective and curative to the harmful and malefic. I also want to touch upon some lesser known practices in witchcraft that might seem rather unusual because they are so commonplace. In any event in this entry I wanted to touch upon the infamous witches' ladder; it's origins and contemporary uses (or the evolution) of this rather popular magical device.

The witches’ ladder is an object that falls into the category of a fetish—an object that has alleged supernatural abilities; by making a series of knots or by the plating of fibers is one fashioned. Interestingly enough this follows in a series of magical practices that are worked via the bind of material in one way or the other. Concerning contemporary witch ladders the intent of the device is only limited to the individual who procures it. Historically speaking as it concerns the "Wellington Witch Ladder" the purpose has been an enigma. This very first published account of a witches’ ladder appears in an 1887 edition of Folk-Lore (Vol. 5 No. 1) contributed by Abraham Colles. The illustration left is a portion of the original article in Folk-Lore depicting the found object. During the demolition of an farmhouse in the town of Wellington, in Somerset a region in the southwest of England known for it's prevailing magical traditions—witches, spell, and the lot; a secret room was discovered closed off from the rest of the home, wherein there contained a series of decaying item: six brooms, an arm chair, and a curios object—a measure of rope with a series of fathers (of various kinds) woven into it:

It is composed of a piece of rope about five feet in length, and about half-an-inch in diameter. It is made from three strands, and has at one end a loop, as if for the purpose of suspending. Inserted into the rope cross-ways was a number of feather—mostly goose, but some crow or rook—not placed in any determinate order or at any regular intervals...examination makes it evident that these feathers had been twisted into the rope at the time when it was first made, not inserted into it consequently (p. 3).


During Colles' investigation, which subsequently turned up very little; though we can learn from him that the ladder was made of new rope with feather woven into them, "[Colles' opinion] which was confirmed by Mr. Bubear, owner of the house, himself a rope-manufacturer, who declared that on that point there could no doubt," that the rope was not bought prefabricated but actually wrought by whom ever owned the home (originally). As to the purpose of the ladder that was referred to by one of the workers a "witches' ladder" the use of the ladder was for witches to climb the roof of the home, while this is obviously a rather superstitious (and irrational) supposition. Colles informants appear to be well aware of the charm, however, not as to what it means or how it is used. The ladder came into the ownership of one Edward Burnette Taylor an Anthropologist who had corrected Colles’ article for Folk-Lore and was Reader in Anthropology and Keeper of then University Museum in Oxford. In 1911 Taylor retired and the object was donated the institute where is currently is housed, University of Oxford's Pitt Rivers Museum (No. 1911.32.7), the label reads:

Witches' ladder made with cock's feather. Said to have been used for getting away the milk from neighbour's cow and for causing people's deaths. From an attic in the house of an old woman (a witch?) who died in Wellington.


In a note sent with the ladder when it was included into the museum’s collection Anna Taylor suggest the plot of a novel contributed to the witches’ ladder as a death-charm. As to what novel she is making a reference to is not disclosed, however, a novel published in 1893 by folklorist Sabine Baring-Gould entitled Mrs. Curgenven does feature a witches’ ladder used as a death curse, where a knotted cord with feather is tied around a stone and submerged into Dogmare Pool, the contact with the water would rot the cord unloosening the knots and the ill wish then would be released as bubbles from the pool arose. If this was the novel that she was making reference to it does expose some inaccuracies as to what the ladder was assumed to represent. Allegedly in a letter in 1893 Edwards Burnette Taylor would write to Baring-Gould as to the source of this ritual, which he would reply that the ritual was a mere invention.

Ultimatrely the Wellington Witch Ladder never achieved any solid evidential support; the popular opinion contributed towards the ladder does not replace supported facts. Taylor has presented the ladder to a meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Sciences in 1887 where it was speculated the object could be a sewel or an object used to turn back deer when hunting. In Taylor’s research of the ladder he attempted to secure this other object for comparison. It was never known if Taylor has successfully been able to find said object to perform a comparison, so the mystery of the witches’ ladder continues.

Upon hearing of the discovery in Wellington, folklorist Charles Geoffrey Leland became fascinated by over the artifact so much so that he conducted his own investigation; subsequently his search would evidently turn up an Italian equivalent. This is documented in the second part (chapter five) of Etruscan Roman Remains in Popular Tradition (1892) entitled “Amethyst”. However, it should be noted that in the Leland text there is a grave error in the account as to how the ladder was first brought to his attention:

In the year 1886 there was found in a belfry of a church in England a curios object of which all that could be learned at the first was from the authority of an old woman and that it was called a witch’s ladder. An engraving of it was published in the Folk-Lore Journal, and several contributors soon explained its uses. It consisted of a cord tied in knots at regular intervals, and in every knot the feather of a fowl had been inserted.


This almost entirely inaccurate; whether Leland had confused the original article in Folk-Lore with his own field notes of an artifact similar used by the witches of Italy or completely fabricated the paragraph quoted above as to in some way validate his own claims to the so-called “witches’ garland” is debatable. However, it should be noted that no such article exists in the year 1886 in Folk-Lore. This could of course be a slight oversight on Leland’s part, yet what makes it more discouraging is his description of the ladder found in Wellington, which is totally false.

In any event Leland “by mere chance” found one woman with whom he conversed who told him of the story of how her child had become bewitches by what she called a guirlanda delle strege or witches’ garland. Fortunate for Leland (all most too fortunate) is the process in which one is made. She told him “[the garland] is made by taking a cord and tying knots in it,” additionally “while doing so this puck feathers one by one from a living hen, and stick them into the knots, uttering a medication with everyone.” Unique to this malefic operation was found under the child’s bed a stuff figure in the shape of a hen—from Leland we learn the spell is called Il Pollo nero or the Black Hen.

Leland a member of the Folk-Lore society with others such as Gerald Gardner, Margaret Alice Murray, as well as Taylor would have been aware of one another thus the ladder would have been common knowledge to each of them. Chris Wingfield suggest in his piece for “Witches’ Ladder: The Hidden History” (as part of “The Other Within” project) it was much a contemporary invention of the time. Whether this is true or not the witches’ ladder has become a very prominent practice in contemporary witches. Yet as with many older charms it has taken on a kinder appearance. Wishes, desire, and the like are woven into cords in hopes for their manifestation.