65: Witch Burials

Shauna: Folklore and superstition have a way of making us do some strange things. From throwing salt over our shoulder to blind the devil, or never walking under a ladder in case of bad luck. Superstition has been around for centuries, and no matter what your personal belief is, they have a way of sneaking into our everyday lives. Take Brazil, for example. It's said that letting your wallet or purse Hit the floor will cause you financial ruin. Or one of my favorites from Turkey, where chewing gum after sunset will transform the gum into human flesh. Yuck. But many superstitions were not just rooted in strange habits passed down through generations. They were rooted in a very real fear. A fear that something bad might happen if we don't follow the rules. And those rules Well, they were designed for the living, but also for the dead. Many of our current burial practices stem from historical superstition of the dead returning. Take this story from 2019. After a family in Valencia County, Southern Romania buried their beloved family member, they thought that that was the end of the story. But nearly three months later, Four men were charged with the desecration of human remains. After witnesses caught the deceased woman's brother, husband, a priest, and another man digging up her body in broad daylight and placing a large stake through her heart and into the back of the coffin. When police interviewed the brother, he stated that the ghost of his sister had been coming into his dreams. And she had an axe with her each time. Trying to drag him back to her grave. Superstition, it seems, never truly dies. The fear that the dead might come back is older than any of the women or the legends we're going to cover tonight's episode. And it's left its fingerprints on funerals all over the world. Some of them are still visible to this day. Welcome back, Spooky Souls, to our second episode in our Witches of October series. If you are returning, welcome back. And if you're just stumbling upon the podcast, hey, how's it going? Here at Let's Talk Spooky, we dive into the strange corners of folklore, haunted history, and dabble in a bit of true crime. So if that sounds like your vibe, hit that follow button and Join us as we spend the next few weeks of Spooky Season diving into the dark history of witches. So if you're ready, light that candle, go grab your shovel, and let's talk spooky. Some stories blur the line between reality and the unfamiliar. They whisper in the night, waiting to be heard. So let's listen. Let's talk spooky. It was one thing to deal with a suspected witch while they were alive, but it was quite another to decide what to do with one once they were dead. For many communities across Europe, the fear surrounding a witch didn't simply disappear once the witch was executed. No, there was still a very terrifying possibility that the witch might return from the grave, seeking revenge against those who condemned them. In Scotland, Those who were convicted and executed for witchcraft were commonly strangled before their bodies were inevitably burned. And the thinking was simple no body, no grave, nothing to rise from the dead and seek revenge upon them, right? But England had a different approach. Unlike their Scottish counterparts, who viewed witchcraft as heresy against the Church, England viewed witchcraft as a common law felony, and not heresy. Therefore, those who were convicted as witches were found criminally responsible, and crimes of that nature were dealt with by hanging. Which left a bit of a problem. If your fear was that the witch might return, especially if you didn't have very many options of where you might be able to bury said witch, it might be hard to choose a perfect spot to lay them to rest. Now most commonly, The bodies of witches were not permitted on consecrated ground. So families had to find other means of burial outside the regular cemeteries. Sometimes those locations were just on the other side of the church wall, close enough to visit, but separate from holy ground. But other times, they were as far away as they could possibly get. If you walk the shores of Toriburn, Scotland, you might notice a rock that It seems out of place against the landscape. But it's not the oddity of its placement that attracts visitors. It's what's buried beneath it. Born in 1640, Lilis Adi was accused of witchcraft in 1704 by her neighbor Jean Bazette, who also accused two other women alongside her. Lilius was believed to be in her 60s at the time she was arrested. Frail and losing her eyesight, and during her imprisonment, she confessed to meeting the devil in a cornfield at sunset, described him as a strange figure wearing a hat with cold skin and cloven feet like those of a cow. She claimed to have attended gatherings alongside other witches, where the devil would arrive riding a pony. But of course, it's important to remember that many of these confessions are were given after Lilius was subjected to what records called rough interrogation, which lasted weeks. And I mean, I'm sure you could agree that we would all likely say things if it meant the torture would stop. Now what makes her accusation not fit the mold of the burial standards of witches at the time was that Lillian was never brought to trial. She Never faced conviction, which is why she's one of the only graves of a Scottish witch in record. She passed away in her prison cell a few short weeks after her arrest, from reasons historians argue could have been natural causes, the condition of her imprisonment, or even by her own hand. Regardless, because she was never truly convicted as a witch, burning her was not an option. But like I mentioned before, superstition has a way of filling the minds of the people. And they had one little problem. They still had a dead witch on their hands, or at least who they thought was a dead witch. So they placed her body in a wooden box and they brought her to the shore. There they buried her and placed a quarter ton sandstone slab over her coffin Believing that that would keep her from ever returning if she wished. And that's where she remained, buried beneath the stone for nearly a hundred and fifty years. But by the late 1800s, the fears surrounding witchcraft had largely faded, but it was replaced by a different kind of fascination. In 1852, her grave was disturbed and her remains were taken for study. Her skull eventually found its way to the University of St. Andrew, where it was photographed in 1904, but sometime during the 20th century it disappeared, leaving behind only photographs. And it wasn't just her remains that were taken either. Even pieces of her coffin were removed, with reportedly some being used as marketed walking sticks, engraved with her name and the year of her death. For decades, Lillius' story was largely forgotten. But that began to change in 2014, when historian Louise Yamon and archaeologist Douglas Speer set out to find her burial site for themselves. Using descriptions from 19th century records, they located the stone along the shoreline at Toy Burn, exactly where the old accounts had placed it. Then, In 2017, a forensic artist named Kristen Rine used the surviving photographs of her skull to reconstruct her face. And rather than the frightening image of a witch that people had placed upon her for centuries, what emerged was the face of an ordinary woman, one he described as looking quite kind. As Iman later pointed out, the only true monstrous thing About Lilius's story was the injustice she had suffered. In 2019, people gathered along the shore to honor her memory, laying a wreath at the stone that had marked her grave for centuries. Fife Council also began efforts to locate her missing remains, hoping that one day they might be able to finally give her the burial that she deserved. So for more than three centuries after her death, Lilius Addy may still lie beneath the weathered stone on the Scottish shoreline. Twice a day the tide rolls in and covers her grave before retreating once again. It seems that though she never physically stepped out of her grave, her story and her memory was brought back to life with the help of a little storytelling. If we venture across the waters to England, We're going to come across another particularly strange stone. This one located in the churchyard of St. Anne's in Woodplumpton, Lancashire, in northwestern England. And its story begins around the early 1700s. There lived a woman there named Meg Shelton, although some historian records refer to her as Marjorie Hilton. But for the purpose of this episode, we'll call her Meg. Now Meg had Quite a reputation. Like many women accused of witchcraft during this period, there were plenty of strange stories circulating about what she was supposedly capable of. One popular tale claimed that Meg had a rather unusual way of stealing milk from her neighbors. Instead of sneaking into the barn herself, she would transform a jug into a goose and send it wandering among the cows. Collecting milk before returning home and then back into a jug. Another story claimed that Meg could transform herself into a hare and was often spotted running through the fields. On one particular evening, a farmer's dog managed to catch the hare by the leg. And wouldn't you know it? The very next day, Meg was seen walking around the village with a rather noticeable limp. Then there was the farmer who had discovered an extra sack of corn in his barn. Suspicious that something just wasn't quite right, he began to stab each sack with a pitchfork until one of them let out a scream, and according to legend, that sack transformed back into Meg. But Meg's story it didn't follow the traditional witch narrative that we discussed throughout the episode. Though much of her village did believe her to be a witch, she was never formally arrested for the crime, and that's a bit of an important note for what happened next. In 1705, Meg became pinned between a large barrel and a stone structure. There, after much attempts to free her, she eventually succumbed to her injuries. Now, though the town believed her to be a witch, The church could not deny her a proper burial. So what followed would have seemed like a perfectly normal end to a strange woman's life. The coffin went down, the earth went in, and the village went home. But it wasn't that simple. You see, the following morning, something was wrong. The soil covering Meg's grave had been disturbed. Almost as though someone had been digging their way out from beneath. So the villagers exhumed her body and buried her again. And the very next morning, you guessed it, the same thing had happened. The ground around her grave was disturbed, but this time it was even more than the previous night. Now, whether the villagers genuinely believed Meg was trying to claw her way out of her coffin rather than There being a more reasonable explanation, it's hard to say. But there must have been enough doubt because they decided they weren't going to take any more chances. And their solution was rather creative. This time they dug out her grave and dug a narrow vertical shaft beneath it. Into the ground they placed her body inside headfirst, thinking that If Meg attempted to dig her way out of her coffin again, she would only end up digging herself deeper into the earth. And just for good measure, in case she got crafty, they rolled an enormous boulder over the top of her grave, and that was that. But what I always come back to in these stories is that if the woman could turn herself into all manner of things, as they accused her of doing, then How would a boulder or some dirt truly stop her? I mean, if she could do a jug, why not a gopher? If there's a witch, there's a way. But with all the legends, especially those surrounding witches, there's the tale and then there's the truth. According to the church's own historical records, nobody actually knows whether Meg's remains are buried beneath the stone at all. There is another unusual detail though. Despite her reputation as a witch, as I mentioned before, Meg was said to be buried on consecrated ground, something the church itself to this day acknowledges as rather puzzling given the stories surrounding her. Of course, it's important to remember that much of what we know of Meg comes from local folklore, rather than documented historical evidence. Her supposed transformations and The disturbed grave, even the unusual burial itself, have been passed down through generations of oral storytelling. But that hasn't stopped people from sharing them. In fact, one of the more recent accounts comes from the 1920s, when a family was reportedly visiting St. Anne's Church. Their young son had run ahead of them into the building, only to come racing back out moments later. Absolutely terrified. According to the boy's accounts, a haggard old woman with a limp had chased him through the church grounds. Now, today Meg's grave remains one of Lankshire's more unusual pieces of witch folklore. And while we may never know whether there's actually a woman buried beneath the enormous stone, the legend of Meg has certainly outlived the people who once feared her. Which I feel is rather ironic when you consider that they went to such extraordinary lengths to make sure she would never return. Now I have one more story for you tonight. And as always, in these episodes, I do my best to incorporate some of my own Canadian history wherever I can. And yes, it seems that we may have had a witch of our very own. And a strange burial to go along with her. Welcome to Grey County, Ontario, located not far from Owen Sound, where a small pioneer cemetery has become the center of a rather unusual witch legend. Known as the West Bentnick Presbyterian Cemetery, most of the graveyards here are grouped together in a small field. But there is one that stands alone from the others. And it sits at the top of a small hill. According to local folklore, There's a rather disturbing reason why. The grave belongs to a woman named Isabella Mary Rutherford, although for years she was known by locals as Mary Rutherford, the witch of West Grey. Now, depending on who's telling the story, there were two different explanations for why Mary's grave had been separated from the others. The first claim that Mary was an unmarried woman. Who had finally found love, only to be abandoned at the altar on her wedding day. Heartbroken, she supposedly took her own life while still wearing her wedding dress. And because taking one's own life is considered a serious sin by the church, she was refused burial on church grounds and laid to rest slightly elsewhere. But the second version of the story, well, that's where. The Witch legend comes in. According to this tale, Mary was a witch, and much like the women in our previous stories, the people around her were terrified that when she eventually died, she might return from the grave and take revenge. So, rather than taking any chances, they supposedly removed her head and buried it separately from her body. Thinking, of course, that She couldn't rise from the dead if her body wasn't entirely intact. I guess it's safe to say nobody read The Headless Horseman. Just saying. But apparently, even that wasn't enough to keep Mary in her grave. Because local legends have also claimed that her ghost can be seen wandering the cemetery grounds at midnight, searching for unsuspecting victims. Or perhaps her head. Now you might be wondering what this woman could have possibly done to deserve such an unusual burial. Well, it turns out she did absolutely nothing. When researchers began looking into the actual history of the supposed witch of West Grey, they discovered something about the legend that was rather interesting. Almost everything about it was fake. For starters, there's no known historical evidence that Mary was ever accused of witchcraft. And rather than being an unmarried woman abandoned at the altar, she was very much a wife, a mother, and a grandmother, in fact. And she had married a man named Robert Laylaw in Scotland in 1826. And around 1855, their son Walter made his way to Canada and eventually helped. His family established a home there. When Mary eventually did pass away on Christmas Day in 1872, she became one of the first people buried in what would become the West Bentnick Presbyterian Cemetery. And that's where the mystery surrounding her isolated grave begins to make a little bit more sense. You see, Mary's grave was one of the earliest in the cemetery, and the afterthought was kind of Maybe we shouldn't stick graves up a hill. So following her death, all other graves were moved slightly down to the bottom of the hill, including that of her husband, who had died two years later. So as more people began to be buried in the area, Mary's grave began to look increasingly more isolated from the rest. But there's also the matter of her headstone, which bears her maiden name. Rutherford, rather than her married name Lavlaw. But that wasn't particularly unusual in Scotland. Many women often were recorded under their birth names or their surnames, even after marriage. So rather than being cast out because she was a supposed witch, Mary's unusual burial appears to have been nothing more than the result of early cemetery burials and a change in placement. But unfortunately, somewhere along the way, that lonely grave on the hillside became the foundation for a legend that built a life of its own. And over the years, the cemetery began attracting people hoping to encounter the supposed witch, bringing reports of trespassing and increased vandalism. In 2010, things began to get particularly more intense. As according to accounts published on Ontario Ghost Walk, someone dug into Mary's grave, causing her headstone to physically collapse inside itself. Now, while the exact circumstances of the incident, or rather any charges in place, haven't been independently confirmed, the damage and the vandalism was a frequent occurrence at the cemetery. And it wasn't until historical research Began challenging the legend, that Mary's real story started to receive more attention. In 2021, researcher Linda Secaspina published information about her life and her family. And in 2026, Ontario Ghostwalks released their own correction, acknowledging that they had helped spread the witch legend over the years. And I think we can learn something about how a narrative can create a monster where there was never really one to begin with. In Mary's case, there's no evidence that anyone knew her or believed her to be a witch, let alone feared that she might return from the grave. All it took was an unusual headstone on a lonely hillside for people to come up with a familiar narrative to fit the story. She must have been a witch. And rather ironically, I think, after all those stories about the dead trying to escape their graves, the only people we knew who actually disturbed Mary's resting place was that of the living. So it seems that for as long as people have feared witches, they feared something else just as much. The unknown. And I think it's safe to say that death. As we know it is probably about as unknown as it gets. So to fill in the gaps, we reach for stones and chains and stories. But fear has a way of keeping alive the very thing that we mean to bury. The graves meant to silence these women were the very reason why we still remember them to this day. So I hope that bringing these stories to light. Helped you to remember that these were real women who lived real lives, and their stories or their legends shouldn't be what defines them. If you enjoyed tonight's episode, take a moment, hit that follow button, and leave a comment, say hi. I love hearing from you. And I look forward, as always, to scaring you in the next episode. Stay curious and stay spooky.