Newfoundland and Labrador is a safe place. This is what we tell ourselves and the tourists who visit. There are still places in the province where people do not lock their doors at night, comfortable in the knowledge that they have little to fear in the way of nocturnal intruders.
But just imagine if that safety was just an illusion. Imagine a supernatural terror stalking the night, an evil so powerful that locks and latches, bolts and barricades were not strong enough to keep it out. What would you do to keep your loved ones safe from that type of evil?
If you had lived in Grand Bank a hundred years ago, you might have gone looking for horseshoes.
On College Street in Grand Bank stood a small house with a peaked gable roof. It hasda dormer window above the main door, a central chimney and a quiet sense of dignity. The building was constructed around 1890, and for the early twentieth century was owned by a man named White.
A number of years ago renovations were done on the house. Much to the owner's surprise, when one of the front windows was taken out, twelve horseshoes were removed from the window frame. The horseshoes had been nailed up inside the wall of the house around the window box, and had never been visible.
The practice of nailing a single horseshoe over a door is fairly common, and countless sheds, net lofts and stores across the province boast a horseshoe hanging from a nail above the entrance. Depending on where you are from, the horseshoe can be nailed in place with the ends pointing up or down. Some folks believe it must point up or the luck runs out, while others believe it must point down so the luck can pour onto you.
No matter which way you nail it, the single horseshoe is recognized today as a good luck charm.
One hundred years ago, a single horseshoe meant something different, and twelve horseshoes together was probably pretty rare. Twelve horseshoes nailed up inside a wall where no could see them is more than rare. Indeed, it may point to something bordering on the sinister, as horseshoes were used as a form of protection against evil.
The lowly horseshoe was once used as an amulet against malicious spirits, the Devil, fairies and, most importantly, witches. Nailed over a doorway it was believed to prevent evil from crossing the threshold, since no witch would pass under it. One placed in the chimney could even prevent a witch from entering from above, like a creepy version of Santa Claus.
The belief in horseshoes as protection against witchcraft goes back to the Middle Ages. In 1584 Reginald Scot wrote the following in his book, The Discoverie of Witchcraft:
“To prevent and cure all mischeefes wrought by these charmes & witchcrafts... naile a horse shoo at the inside of the outmost threshold of your house, and so you shall be sure no witch shall have power to enter... You shall find that rule observed in manie countrie houses.”
One hundred years after Scot wrote this, the custom was still firmly in practice. Around 1686, James Aubrey wrote,
“A Horse-Shoe nailed on the threshold of ye dore is yet in fashion: it ought... to be a Horse-shoe that one finds by chance on the Roade. The end of it is to prevent the power of Witches, that come into your house.”
If one horseshoe would provide protection against witches, the twelve found in the house in Grand Bank would have been even more effective. The number of shoes was probably no mistake. The number twelve is one of those magical numbers, like the number seven, that constantly reappear in folklore and folk beliefs. There are twelve months, for example, and the number has several religious connotations, one example being the number of Christ’s disciples.
Were the citizens of turn of the century Grand Bank terrorized by witches? If they were, there is certainly little in the historical record to prove it. Twelve horseshoes built into the frame of a house was most likely very rare, perhaps even unique in the province. A traditional charm against evil, repeated a mystical number of times, and hidden inside a house frame, this was probably an isolated example of a highly superstitious homeowner.
Or was it?
A short distance away on Evans Street is another house, constructed around 1906. When renovations were done on that property in the early 1990s, copies of the Holy Bible were found placed around the inside of one of the windows. They had been hidden from view for years and there were exactly seven of them.
Again, the number of items is probably not a coincidence. According to the Cassel Dictionary of Superstitions, “the number seven is associated with the supernatural and will bring success to any project connected with it.”
When the Bibles were found, the popular explanation was that they had been used for insulation. It seems a little unusual that books would be used for insulation around a window when there are other materials that would be more effective. Even if books, for some reason, had been seen as a good form of insulation, it seems remarkable that the Bible would have been chosen. Likely, the use of the seven Bibles would have had some specific mystical meaning, possibly related to the protection of the property.
One of the Bibles was placed on display at the George C. Harris House museum in Grand Bank. Unfortunately, the remaining six, due to their poor condition, were placed in the garbage.
Interestingly, a hay fork was also found in the same window. It was believed to have fallen from the attic and gotten lodged between the walls. However, much like the tradition of horseshoes, there are traditions of protection involving knives, scissors, and the like. Scissors could be thrust into the door (or into a ship’s mast) for protection, or opened to form a cross-shape and laid on the threshold to prevent evil from entering. Knives, and other iron items, were believed to ward off witches or even the Devil himself if they were hidden beneath a windowsill.
One occurrence in a Newfoundland community of this type of protection from evil would be intriguing. Two is downright spooky.
It is possible that in the late 1880s, some of the good citizens of Grand Bank may have honestly felt a need for protection from witches. While Newfoundland certainly never suffered through the same witch hunt craze that swept through Europe or the Boston States, a belief in the malevolent powers of witchcraft certainly did exist. In 1997 folklorist Barbara Rieti reported that the Memorial University Folklore and Language Archive held several hundred accounts of witchcraft from all across the province.
What is also known is that witches, or at least people believed to be witches, were known to be at work on the Burin Peninsula in the recent historical period. As late as the 1950s stories were circulating the Burin Peninsula about "black stick men", men who had entered into a dark pact with Old Nick. In return they had been given a short, slender piece of burnt wood with which they could force the winds and tides to do their bidding.
Were there witches in Grand Bank in the late 1800s? If there were, they themselves have left no traces behind. There is little in the written historical record to suggest they had much impact, if they existed at all. But obviously, something was creeping around in the shadows. Whether it was a witch, some dark spirit, or the Devil incarnate, it was frightening enough to have two different homeowners seek a little supernatural protection for themselves and their families. Who knows what other secrets are hidden away in the walls of historic Grand Bank?
An earlier version of this story was published as "Bewitched in Grand Bank" in Downhomer, April 2004, Vol. 16(11), pp. BP21-BP24.
