I've decided to begin a series of blog posts regarding some of my research of 'talking poltergeist' cases. This research was done in the years preceding my trip to Oklahoma in 1995. I'll begin with the John Mompesson case, sometimes known as the 'Drummer of Tedworth' case first chronicled in England by Joseph Glanvill with a 1668 book. An "enlarged narrative of the Daemon of Tedworth" was featured at the beginning of the chapter "Proof of Apparitions, Spirits, and Witches, from a choice Collection of modern Relations" in Glanvill's Saducismus Triumphatus (1689).
Fifteen years ago, I had intended to profile the case in the preface of my planned book about 'talking poltergeists.' One book that I found on the subject of poltergeists was Poltergeists (1979) by Alan Gauld and A.D. Cornell, who used a variety of manuscript materials to profile the Tedworth case. The authors' objective was to offer "the fullest account of this famous case yet published"; however, they didn't include some thoughtful perspectives from Glanvill's final report on the case that was included in his book published posthumously.
Here is my description of the case that was written prior to 1995. This article utilizes modern spelling for Mompesson's statements (as did my unpublished manuscript) except for the word 'daemon.' The meaning of this word centuries ago was different from the usual contemporary interpretation of 'demon.'
A residence in North Tedworth, England became the setting for many strange events beginning in 1661. This house, a weather-boarded edifice like that of the Bells', belonged to John Mompesson, a Justice of the Peace who had once confiscated the drum of a miscreant. Details of what his family experienced were described by Mompesson in letters and a journal, with the events recounted by Joseph Glanvill in Saducismus Triumphatus (1681).
As Mompesson chronicled in a letter of December 6, 1662, his home was first plagued by a recurrent peculiar noise—a "hollow sound"—from the outside of the house, commencing as his family retired to their bedrooms each evening. For a month the thumping noise continued and then, inside the house, for two hours each night such loud sounds would reverberate from the drum—left under a board in the mother's chamber—that the windows and beds would shake. Wrote Mompesson: ". . . when it came we could hear a perfect hurling in the air over the house . . ."
Two months later, there were additional noises — in Mompesson's words: "Sometimes it would imitate the sound of peas upon boards, the shoeing of horses, the Sawyers [carpenters], and many others, but, God be praised, my wife drawing near her time of childbed, it came a little that night she was in travail and forbore the house for three weeks until she had her strength again . . . it returned with mighty violence and applied itself wholly to my youngest children, whose bed steeds it would beat . . . then it will run under the bed tick and scratch as if it had iron talons and heave up the children in the bed, and follow them from room to room and come to none else but them."
Soon, a board was seen to levitate with a sulfurous smell lingering in the room the following morning. That night, the family was joined by their minister and some neighbors in a prayer session in the children's room, which had the effect of transferring the noise to an attic. At the conclusion of the prayers, the group saw chairs moving with no obvious means of propulsion. The children's shoes were tossed over their heads and "every loose thing thrown about the room." A bed staff was thrown at the minister by the unseen force and hit him in the leg "but so softly that a lock of wool could not fall more softly."
The phenomena escalated with the children being pulled by their hair and clothing. While in their beds, the family's servants experienced their beds levitating. Sometimes the candles would not burn in proximity to what Mompesson referred to as "the spirit." The attributes of the drumming sometimes altered as it was heard every day for seven weeks.
In a letter dated December 26, Mompesson noted that the noise had evolved. A noteworthy incident followed a neighbor telling his mother that she had heard stories of fairies that left money in maidens' shoes. His mother's reply had been: "I should like that well if it would leave us some money to make us satisfaction for the trouble and charge it puts us to." That night, there was such a chinking of money heard that the family was disappointed not to find the house strewn with half crowns.
Mompesson described other events: "On Christmas Eve about an hour before day, one of my little boys arising to make water, all being quiet, a pin of the latch of the door was pulled out, and the door thrown open, and the latch hit the boy directly in a sore place of his heel, and made him cry out: one would wonder how such a little pin could be found out in the night. And on Christmas day at night it took my mother's clothes and threw all about the room and took her Bible and hid it in the ashes of the chimney, and such odd tricks every night it does."
Concerning a friend who volunteered to stay nights in the room where occurred the greatest trouble, Mompesson described: ". . . sometimes John's breeches and doublet are pulled about the room and his shoes thrown at him; then John takes his sword and recovers it, but now and then it takes John at the advantage when he is asleep and his arms in the bed, and lays so hard upon him, that for his life he cannot get one hand loose for a quarter of an hour, and then he will be in a great sweat . . . And these things others have tasted as well as strangers as others, some have had their hands caught as they have been feeling for a chamber pot, and held, their feet and stomachs laid on, but thus much we have discovered of it, that it is afraid of weapon or to be handled, and very shy of much light."
In a letter dated January 4, Mompesson described new events: "We do often hear (especially of late) a tinging in the chimney before it comes down . . . we have constantly every night been troubled, and one night more than ever, there being great lights, one whereof came into my chamber which my wife did see, which she conceived to be very blue and glimmering, and caused as she thought stiffness on her eyelids: it continued whilst forty might be distinctly told, and before she perceived it, heard something come up the stairs resembling one coming up without shoes: that light was four or five several times in my children's chamber, and as the maids constantly affirm, the doors were at least ten or more times opened and shut in their sights, and when they were opened there came in a noise as if half a dozen had come in and pressed who should come first in, and walk about the room, one whereof rustled so that they thought it had a silk garment on (the same I once heard) but all this while they saw nothing but the doors open and shut, and the lights, but when they first were troubled with the noise of the doors they set up a candle, by which they perceived the motions of the doors."
Mompesson speculated that these events were the result of witchcraft performed by the drummer, now imprisoned, that he had prosecuted. While he had heard that many houses have been troubled with unusual noises and sounds and other disturbances, Mompesson knew of no similar case where "for fourteen weeks together a spirit should come, and in the sight of so many hundreds should do such things, as if it were his chief business and design to convince the world of their infidelity in that point."
On two occasions in January, a disembodied voice was heard, yet only two words were spoken: "A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH . . ."
Mompesson's journal described many other alarming events, some involving the spirit and his daughter, such as it moving into her bed tick, running from one side of the bed to the other and heaving her up. At one time, there were three separate noises in the bed; one seeming to blow and pant like a dog out of breath. Once Mompesson and some neighbors entered the room to notice a "bloomy, hot, ill smell, and the room though without fire was very hot, and the children in the bed in a great sweat . . ."
8-22-2010 note from Mark Russell Bell: My rough draft of this portion of the planned preface of my unpublished manuscript also included a statement that Glanvill's observations about the events "only heighten the confusion surrounding the circumstances that remain one of the most famous poltergeist cases in history." However, this estimation seems simplistic after having recently read Glanvill's account of the case from the third edition of Saducismus Triumphatus. My comments about the book are presented in the second part of this article: "The Daemon of Tedworth" 'Talking Poltergeist' Case (Part 2).
Fifteen years ago, I had intended to profile the case in the preface of my planned book about 'talking poltergeists.' One book that I found on the subject of poltergeists was Poltergeists (1979) by Alan Gauld and A.D. Cornell, who used a variety of manuscript materials to profile the Tedworth case. The authors' objective was to offer "the fullest account of this famous case yet published"; however, they didn't include some thoughtful perspectives from Glanvill's final report on the case that was included in his book published posthumously.
Here is my description of the case that was written prior to 1995. This article utilizes modern spelling for Mompesson's statements (as did my unpublished manuscript) except for the word 'daemon.' The meaning of this word centuries ago was different from the usual contemporary interpretation of 'demon.'
A residence in North Tedworth, England became the setting for many strange events beginning in 1661. This house, a weather-boarded edifice like that of the Bells', belonged to John Mompesson, a Justice of the Peace who had once confiscated the drum of a miscreant. Details of what his family experienced were described by Mompesson in letters and a journal, with the events recounted by Joseph Glanvill in Saducismus Triumphatus (1681).
As Mompesson chronicled in a letter of December 6, 1662, his home was first plagued by a recurrent peculiar noise—a "hollow sound"—from the outside of the house, commencing as his family retired to their bedrooms each evening. For a month the thumping noise continued and then, inside the house, for two hours each night such loud sounds would reverberate from the drum—left under a board in the mother's chamber—that the windows and beds would shake. Wrote Mompesson: ". . . when it came we could hear a perfect hurling in the air over the house . . ."
Two months later, there were additional noises — in Mompesson's words: "Sometimes it would imitate the sound of peas upon boards, the shoeing of horses, the Sawyers [carpenters], and many others, but, God be praised, my wife drawing near her time of childbed, it came a little that night she was in travail and forbore the house for three weeks until she had her strength again . . . it returned with mighty violence and applied itself wholly to my youngest children, whose bed steeds it would beat . . . then it will run under the bed tick and scratch as if it had iron talons and heave up the children in the bed, and follow them from room to room and come to none else but them."
Soon, a board was seen to levitate with a sulfurous smell lingering in the room the following morning. That night, the family was joined by their minister and some neighbors in a prayer session in the children's room, which had the effect of transferring the noise to an attic. At the conclusion of the prayers, the group saw chairs moving with no obvious means of propulsion. The children's shoes were tossed over their heads and "every loose thing thrown about the room." A bed staff was thrown at the minister by the unseen force and hit him in the leg "but so softly that a lock of wool could not fall more softly."
The phenomena escalated with the children being pulled by their hair and clothing. While in their beds, the family's servants experienced their beds levitating. Sometimes the candles would not burn in proximity to what Mompesson referred to as "the spirit." The attributes of the drumming sometimes altered as it was heard every day for seven weeks.
In a letter dated December 26, Mompesson noted that the noise had evolved. A noteworthy incident followed a neighbor telling his mother that she had heard stories of fairies that left money in maidens' shoes. His mother's reply had been: "I should like that well if it would leave us some money to make us satisfaction for the trouble and charge it puts us to." That night, there was such a chinking of money heard that the family was disappointed not to find the house strewn with half crowns.
Mompesson described other events: "On Christmas Eve about an hour before day, one of my little boys arising to make water, all being quiet, a pin of the latch of the door was pulled out, and the door thrown open, and the latch hit the boy directly in a sore place of his heel, and made him cry out: one would wonder how such a little pin could be found out in the night. And on Christmas day at night it took my mother's clothes and threw all about the room and took her Bible and hid it in the ashes of the chimney, and such odd tricks every night it does."
Concerning a friend who volunteered to stay nights in the room where occurred the greatest trouble, Mompesson described: ". . . sometimes John's breeches and doublet are pulled about the room and his shoes thrown at him; then John takes his sword and recovers it, but now and then it takes John at the advantage when he is asleep and his arms in the bed, and lays so hard upon him, that for his life he cannot get one hand loose for a quarter of an hour, and then he will be in a great sweat . . . And these things others have tasted as well as strangers as others, some have had their hands caught as they have been feeling for a chamber pot, and held, their feet and stomachs laid on, but thus much we have discovered of it, that it is afraid of weapon or to be handled, and very shy of much light."
In a letter dated January 4, Mompesson described new events: "We do often hear (especially of late) a tinging in the chimney before it comes down . . . we have constantly every night been troubled, and one night more than ever, there being great lights, one whereof came into my chamber which my wife did see, which she conceived to be very blue and glimmering, and caused as she thought stiffness on her eyelids: it continued whilst forty might be distinctly told, and before she perceived it, heard something come up the stairs resembling one coming up without shoes: that light was four or five several times in my children's chamber, and as the maids constantly affirm, the doors were at least ten or more times opened and shut in their sights, and when they were opened there came in a noise as if half a dozen had come in and pressed who should come first in, and walk about the room, one whereof rustled so that they thought it had a silk garment on (the same I once heard) but all this while they saw nothing but the doors open and shut, and the lights, but when they first were troubled with the noise of the doors they set up a candle, by which they perceived the motions of the doors."
Mompesson speculated that these events were the result of witchcraft performed by the drummer, now imprisoned, that he had prosecuted. While he had heard that many houses have been troubled with unusual noises and sounds and other disturbances, Mompesson knew of no similar case where "for fourteen weeks together a spirit should come, and in the sight of so many hundreds should do such things, as if it were his chief business and design to convince the world of their infidelity in that point."
On two occasions in January, a disembodied voice was heard, yet only two words were spoken: "A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH, A WITCH . . ."
Mompesson's journal described many other alarming events, some involving the spirit and his daughter, such as it moving into her bed tick, running from one side of the bed to the other and heaving her up. At one time, there were three separate noises in the bed; one seeming to blow and pant like a dog out of breath. Once Mompesson and some neighbors entered the room to notice a "bloomy, hot, ill smell, and the room though without fire was very hot, and the children in the bed in a great sweat . . ."
8-22-2010 note from Mark Russell Bell: My rough draft of this portion of the planned preface of my unpublished manuscript also included a statement that Glanvill's observations about the events "only heighten the confusion surrounding the circumstances that remain one of the most famous poltergeist cases in history." However, this estimation seems simplistic after having recently read Glanvill's account of the case from the third edition of Saducismus Triumphatus. My comments about the book are presented in the second part of this article: "The Daemon of Tedworth" 'Talking Poltergeist' Case (Part 2).
Thanks. I first became acquainted with this case in Colin Wilson's book on poltergeists. Regarding the Oklahoma case you looked into, have you posted in depth about here? I'm interested in hearing if you experienced anything unusual.
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