The Witch of Pungo

The Witch of Pungo

Grace Sherwood in Virginia History and Legend

Scott O. Moore

Rivanna Books

University of Virginia Press

Charlottesville and London

The University of Virginia Press is situated on the traditional lands of the Monacan Nation, and the Commonwealth of Virginia was and is home to many other Indigenous people. We pay our respect to all of them, past and present. We also honor the enslaved African and African American people who built the University of Virginia, and we recognize their descendants. We commit to fostering voices from these communities through our publications and to deepening our collective understanding of their histories and contributions.

RIVANNA BOOKS

An imprint of the University of Virginia Press

© 2024 by the Rector and Visitors of the University of Virginia

All rights reserved

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

First published 2024

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Names: Moore, Scott O., author.

Title: The Witch of Pungo : Grace Sherwood in Virginia history and legend / Scott O. Moore.

Description: Charlottesville : Rivanna Books, University of Virginia Press, 2024. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2023052298 (print) | LCCN 2023052299 (ebook) | ISBN 9780813951300 (paperback) | ISBN 9780813951317 (ebook)

Subjects: LCHS: Sherwood, Grace, –1740 | Witch hunting—Virginia—Princess Anne County—History—18th century. | Sherwood, Grace, –1740—Legends. | Folklore and history—Virginia—Tidewater (Region) | BISAC: HISTORY / United States / State & Local / South (AL, AR, FL, GA, KY, LA, MS, NC, SC, TN, VA, WV) | SOCIAL SCIENCE / Archaeology Classification: LCC BF1578.S54 M66 2024 (print) | LCC BF1578.S54 (ebook) | DDC 133.4/30975551—dc23/eng/20240129

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023052298

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023052299

Cover art: Bat, 10165189/rawpixel.com; rosemary, 567894/rawpixel.com; shackles, 8229760/rawpixel.com; water, berkahjayamaterial/Adobe Stock images

Cover design: David Fassett

To my mother, Marie, who loved legends and stories,

and

my grandmother, Bertie, a proud daughter of “the county”

Contents

List of Illustrations

Acknowledgments

Author’s Note

Introduction

PART I Historical Developments

1 | Early Life

2 | Under Suspicion

3 | Ducked

PART II Legends Take Shape

4 | Rediscovering Witchduck’s Witch

5 | Fantastical Legends

6 | “True” Stories

PART III From Legend to Cultural Icon

7 | Making the Witch of Pungo

8 | Cry Witch and Other Reenactments

9 | Witch Houses and Memorials

Epilogue

Notes

Bibliography

Index

Illustrations

1. Highway marker describing Grace Sherwood’s trial by water in Virginia Beach

2. Map of Norfolk and Princess Anne Counties, ca. 1700

3. Depiction of a witch riding a victim

4. Depiction of witches presenting wax dolls to the devil

5. Depiction of witches with their familiars

6. Depiction of a trial by water

7. Cover page of the Virginia Historical Society’s printing of John Burroughs’s transcript of Grace Sherwood’s trial records

8. Front page of “Grace Sherwood, The Virginia Witch”

9. Sketch of Grace Sherwood with her eggshell boat

10. Portrait of Grace Sherwood

11. Sketch of Grace Sherwood’s ducking

12. Elizabeth White in front of the fence rumored to have belonged to Grace Sherwood

13. Louisa Venable Kyle presenting her books to Lambuth Clarke, president of Virginia Wesleyan College

14. A 2006 advertisement for Cry Witch

15. Scene from Cry Witch

16. The Muddy Creek Road house rumored to have belonged to Grace Sherwood

17. Ferry Plantation House

18. Ferry Plantation House’s reenactment of the ducking of Grace Sherwood

19. Belinda Nash at the unveiling of the statue of Grace Sherwood, 2007

Acknowledgments

I owe a debt of gratitude to the people who not only helped make this book possible, but who made working on it such a rewarding experience. I would like to begin by thanking my editor, Nadine Zimmerli, for her help and collaboration. Her encouragement turned this project from an idea into a reality, and she has been a constant source of support and insight. I could not have asked for a better partner in this endeavor. I am equally grateful to Susan Murray for her skillful copyediting, and to Clayton Butler, Fernando Campos, J. Andrew Edwards, Mark Mones, and everyone else at the University of Virginia Press for making the publishing process such a great experience.

Historians will always acknowledge that their work depends on the expertise of librarians and archivists, and while researching this book, I have been fortunate enough to work with some of the best there are. I am grateful to the staff of Virginia Beach’s Meyera E. Oberndorf Central Library and Pungo-Blackwater Library for their assistance. I would especially like to thank Dorothy Williams for helping me navigate the Central Library’s archives. Regardless of how obscure the question, she was always able to find an answer, including those to questions I did not even know to ask. Brittany Foshay was crucial in helping me identify William Cecil Elam as the author of a piece anonymously published in Putnam’s Magazine, and Amanda Wade has been essential in helping me find materials and secure permissions. At Colonial Williamsburg’s John D. Rockefeller Jr. Library, Sarah Nerney was invaluable not only in helping me find archival material but in finding information about the institution itself. I was able to uncover additional documents and images at the Rockefeller Library with the assistance of Melissa Schutt, Tracey Gulden, and Marianne Martin. I would also like to thank Kenneth Schwarz and Robert Currie of Colonial Williamsburg. When I first reached out to Ferry Planation House looking for information about their connection to legends about Grace Sherwood, I could not have imagined how vital Kristen Ellis, its Director of Research and Development, would become to this project. Not only did she generously share information from the house’s archives, but she has been a constant source of encouragement and support. The staff of WHRO, Hampton Road’s public television station, managed to achieve the impossible and uncover a copy of an episode of Our Place, Our Time that aired more than thirty years ago. I am similarly grateful to Troy Valos at the Norfolk Public Library’s Sargeant Memorial Collection; Graham Dozier, Matthew Guillen, and Carly Tarne at the Virginia Museum for History and Culture; Kevin Shupe at the Library of Virginia; Jason Kramer and Ivy Tan at Virginia’s Department of Historic Resources; Meghan Bryant and Anne Johnson at the College of William and Mary’s Swem Library; Stephen Mansfield and Gregory Snyder at Virginia Wesleyan University’s Hofheimer Library; and the staff of Old Dominion University’s Perry library for helping me find books, documents, and images.

Collecting legends about Grace Sherwood and information about her cultural impact would not have been possible without the people who generously shared their experiences. In particular, I would like to thank Anne Bright, Tiffany Bright, Alpheus Chewning Jr., Jan Dool, Al Henley, Ann Henley, Carson Hudson Jr., Sheila Marie Khan, Molly Kratt, Caroline Leibowitz, Hylin McAndrews, Dave McIntosh, Jay Nixon, Robert Randall Jr., Mark Reed, Gerry Richter, Abigail Schumann, Barbette Spaeth, Jim Waterfield, and Nancy White. I am equally grateful to Annmarie Riley, Madeline Laing, and Miriam Jackson at the Virginia Beach History Museums, Kendal Bazemore at the Hampton History Museums, and Crystal Parker at Virginia Beach’s Princess Anne Area Library for inviting me to public events that allowed me to share my research and to hear from such a wide audience. I would also like to thank Gary Kline, Kathy Hessmer, and the members of Old Donation Episcopal Church’s Historic Traditions Committee for inviting me to share what I had learned about their parish’s connection to Grace Sherwood. My research trips were generously supported by the John Fox Slater Fund for Historical Research at Eastern Connecticut State University and an AAUP-CSU Faculty Research Grant. Eastern Connecticut State University provided additional support by giving me a sabbatical that allowed me to write this book.

I would have been lost without the amazing administrative support given by Alicia Chandler, Beth Leslie, and Brenda Schiavetti. I am also fortunate to have the support of my wonderful colleagues at Eastern. Thomas Balcerski, Courtney Broscious, Caitlin Carenen, J. J. Cobb, James Diller, David Frye, Anna Jaroszyńska-Kirchmann, and Jamel Ostwald have been an endless source of encouragement. Jamel was also kind enough to supervise an independent study with Andrew Raymond, who created chapter 1’s map using our department’s digital history lab. I still do not know how Andrew did such phenomenal work based off the few vague descriptions I gave him, and I cannot wait to see what he accomplishes in the future. Furthermore, I am lucky to be part of a department that includes Stacey Close, Bradley Davis, and Barbara Tucker. I am equally lucky to have the support of amazing friends and family. I appreciate Patrick Cooney and Frederic Tate taking time to read the chapters of this book as I wrote them and finding ways to gently point out when I was sounding too much like a college professor. Ben and Anna Matchett were among the first people I mentioned this project to, and they immediately saw its potential. Not only have all four of them helped make this book come to fruition, but I have been fortunate enough to have them as friends for more than twenty years. I also owe a debt of gratitude to Kenney Cobb, Laura Diller, Adam Goetz, Michael and Susan Matchett, Derek Morrissey, and Marion Waggoner for their support. Shannon and Robert Bunch never hesitated to provide a place to stay during last-minute research trips, and I benefited enormously from Nancy McEwen’s friendships in Pungo. My father, Victor, and my sister, Mandie, have provided a lifetime of encouragement. Lastly, I would like to thank my spouse, Michael, for his unwavering support. I am lucky to have you in my life.

Author’s Note

Piecing together the history of Grace Sherwood has been an interesting puzzle to solve. Historians generally rely on two types of sources for their research: documents and artifacts from the period they are studying, and the work of other historians. This second group not only makes it possible to see what ground has already been covered, but it also provides essential context that may not be in the primary sources. When looking for information about Grace Sherwood, books about colonial Virginia and the history of witch trials offer important background information, but they do not provide much about her or her trial. For these details, interested readers usually turn to local authors. Over the decades there have been countless newspaper articles, book chapters, and story collections written about Virginia’s most famous witch. But the history of Grace Sherwood is so intertwined with her legend that it can be difficult for writers to see the line between the two. It is not uncommon for them to incorporate details, quotations, and descriptions that have long been taken as fact but do not have a clear point of origin. As a result, I have relied almost exclusively on colonial documents when discussing Sherwood’s history. I have only used information from secondary sources when the author provides clear citations or to help situate Sherwood’s life within its historical context.

While looking through historical records, I have tried to uncover every piece of information I can about Sherwood, her family, her accusers, and anyone else connected to the trial. In doing so, I have been able to partially reconstruct the family and community ties that were so influential to the course of events that led to her ducking. I have also used these documents to provide a glimpse into the lives of Sherwood and her neighbors. I am the first to admit that the sources we have are an imperfect lens into this world. For the most part, the only documents we have from Virginia’s earliest English communities are government records, like land grants and deeds, tax records, and court transcripts. This information can tell us an enormous amount of information about someone, but it does not tell us much about who he or she was as a person. Imagine if, three hundred years from now, historians were writing about our lives and could only use IRS records and court transcripts. There would be many blank spaces left behind.

Whenever possible, I have directly quoted these documents. When doing so, I have modernized the language and grammar to make the quotations easier to understand. I have used the current spelling of words, spelled out abbreviations, and replaced archaic pronouns like “ye” with their modern equivalents. I have also standardized the spelling of names. It was not unusual for clerks to spell names differently (even in the same document), or for the spelling of family names to change over time. To avoid confusion, I have stuck to a single spelling. On a related note, unless I am directly quoting an author who has used a different variation, I have standardized the name of Witchduck and used its modern spelling. Similarly, I have used the term Pungo/Back Bay to refer to the southern section of Virginia Beach where Grace Sherwood once lived. Having grown up taking frequent trips to “the county,” I know settling on a name for this area is the topic of frequent debate, and I beg the forgiveness of anyone who would have used something different.

When I began working on this book, I knew that the history of Grace Sherwood was only part of the story. Her legend and cultural impact are just as significant as the history of her life. Tracing the evolution of her legend has been as interesting of a puzzle to solve as uncovering her past. I began by reading modern versions of her legend and talking with longtime residents of Virginia Beach to collect stories firsthand. This process allowed me to see how they are currently being told, but it could not help me see the ways in which they have changed over time. In a perfect world, folklorists would have been collecting and recording these tales for generations, but since this did not happen, I had to rely on written versions. As with colonial records, I have tried to find every published version of Sherwood’s story possible. In doing so, I have relied heavily on the amazing work of countless librarians, archivists, and scholars who have done the painstaking task of digitizing books, magazines, newspapers, and other printed materials. The second and third part of this book would have been impossible without these advances in the digital humanities. They have allowed me to find long-hidden, obscure references to Grace Sherwood that appear in books written more than a century ago. They have also made it possible to examine hundreds of articles from newspapers across the country. These searches have not only allowed me to uncover countless versions of Sherwood’s legend that might have otherwise been overlooked, but they have helped me to discover community events, public performances, and other programs that demonstrate Sherwood’s cultural impact on the area. Putting together the pieces of these puzzles has been a rewarding experience, and I am excited to share what I have found.

The Witch of Pungo

Introduction

Soon after crossing into Virginia Beach on Interstate 264, drivers see exit signs for Witchduck Road. While more than one confused traveler has imagined a duck wearing a witch’s hat flying on a broomstick, for most, the name evokes the grim scenario of innocent women being thrown into the nearby waters to drown. Unjustly accused of witchcraft, they were the apparent victims of a backward and superstitious time. In 2008, this mental image was horrific enough to prompt Midge Wilson to write a letter to the Virginian-Pilot, the area’s local newspaper. The Chicago native often came to Virginia Beach on vacation and could not comprehend why the city would commemorate such barbarity. Nor could she understand why others were not shocked by the road’s “incredibly offensive name” when she could not “help but cringe . . . every time [she] drove the road.” She was stunned that a spot “where innocent women were drowned for, well, for being innocent (the guilty ones floated and then were burned alive at the stake) continues to be seen as quaint.” It was time for the city to reject a name that commemorated a spot “where women were needlessly tortured.”1

Locals rushed to defend Witchduck by writing letters of their own. One pointed out that in fact only one “witch,” Grace Sherwood, was ducked at Witchduck, and she was well worth remembering. She “was probably one of the first feminists in the New World. She forswore dresses for her husband’s trousers; she was independent, feisty, and beautiful.” Her rejection of the status quo caused her to be accused of witchcraft, but even ducking could not break her. Not only did she survive, she “swam away and lived her life on her own terms to a ripe old age.”2 Witchduck commemorated this sensational woman. The swift defense of the road’s name is not surprising. Even though Grace Sherwood has been dead for almost three hundred years, her fame still resonates throughout the area.

Visitors wanting to see where Sherwood was ducked only need to exit the interstate at Witchduck Road. Pushing past the seemingly endless construction and snarled traffic, they will eventually reach the Witch Duck Point neighborhood about a mile before the road ends at the banks of the Lynnhaven River. If they talk to locals, these visitors will hear that in 1706, when the city of Virginia Beach was still Princess Anne County, Sherwood was brought to that spot, had her hands tied to her feet, was rowed into the water, and was thrown overboard. As she flailed, dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of onlookers eagerly watched to see if Sherwood would float, which would confirm her guilt, or if she would have to be pulled from the water before she drowned. Even though no one knows exactly where along the Lynnhaven River Sherwood was ducked, almost every homeowner living along the riverfront will swear it happened on his or her property.3

Locals have referred to the area as Witchduck for generations, and in the 1960s, savvy developers, eager to capitalize on the name, began peppering it with roads like Sherwood Lane and Shaman Crescent.4 Memorials to Grace Sherwood stand along these roads, permanent reminders of her significance to the city. The first is a highway marker installed by Virginia’s Department of Historic Resources in 2002 near a busy intersection along Witchduck Road. Titled “The Testing of Grace Sherwood,” the metal sign succinctly reads:

The witchcraft case of Grace Sherwood is one of the best known in Virginia. She was accused of bewitching a neighbor’s crop in 1698. Allegations grew over time until the Princess Anne County government and her accusers decided she would be tested by ducking, since water was considered pure and would not permit a witch to sink into its depths. Sherwood’s accusers on 10 July 1706 tied her hands to her feet and dropped her into the Western Branch of the Lynnhaven River near what is now known as Witch Duck Point. Sherwood floated, a sign of guilt. She was imprisoned, but was eventually released. Sherwood lived the rest of her life quietly and died by 1740.5

A statue of Grace Sherwood stands directly behind this marker on land owned by Sentara Bayside Hospital. Since there is nothing from the time to suggest what Grace Sherwood looked like, the artist drew from local tradition when sculpting it. According to long-standing belief, Sherwood was strikingly beautiful, and recently she has developed a reputation for being a healer and a friend to animals. As a result, her statue depicts a kind and attractive woman holding a basket of herbs with a racoon as her companion. A plaque describing her ducking is mounted on the statue’s base, along with a bronze replica of the 2006 letter from Governor Tim Kaine restoring “the good name of Grace Sherwood.”

The way this statue blends legend and history is a fitting tribute to Sherwood. She has been an essential part of the cultural fabric of Virginia Beach and Princess Anne County, always blurring the line between fact and fiction. Grace Sherwood was undoubtedly a real woman who was the only suspected witch in Virginia known to have endured a trial by water. This strange event left an immediate impact on the area, generating tales about the ducking and Sherwood herself. These stories became a vital part of local folklore, passed down over generations and changing with the times in which they were told. As is often the case with folktales, some elements of these stories might have kernels of truth, but it is impossible to tell which ones. Over time, even these pieces of fact faded into legend. As Grace Sherwood drifted into local lore, these tales kept her memory alive. As a result, when historians began sifting through the county’s colonial records in the nineteenth century, they knew to look for information about her. They were eager to see what they could discover about the legendary witch of Witchduck.

Figure 1. Highway marker describing Grace Sherwood’s trial by water in Virginia Beach. (Author’s photograph)

From these documents it is possible to piece together information about the actual Grace Sherwood and to separate history from folklore. They reveal a woman who, by all accounts, lived the typical life of a Virginia farmer before she became embroiled in a series of conflicts with her neighbors. When these disputes led to allegations that Sherwood was a witch, she and her husband sued those neighbors for defamation and slander. These actions did not quell the rumors; instead, they only intensified until Sherwood was formally accused of bewitching Elizabeth Hill in 1706. Formal witch trials were rare in Princess Anne County, making Sherwood’s case an anomaly. After a few halting starts, the county justices failed to resolve the matter in a timely manner. When Virginia’s attorney general encouraged them to redouble their efforts and find evidence that could determine Sherwood’s guilt or innocence, they resorted to the unorthodox decision to use a trial by water. After she was bound and cast into the Lynnhaven River, the justices determined that she floated “contrary to custom.”6 This outcome put Sherwood in a precarious position, but it was not a formal conviction. It was only additional evidence that could be used in a future trial, and it is not clear if this trial ever took place. While there is nothing to indicate that the county court held an additional hearing, the matter could have been referred to the General Court in Williamsburg. Because those records were destroyed, the ultimate outcome of Sherwood’s witch trial will always be a mystery. All that can be said for certain is that she was back on her farm soon after her ducking and lived until 1740.

The outcome of Sherwood’s trial is only one of the many gaps left by surviving documents. While the transcripts for her slander trials give some indication of what neighbors believed Sherwood could do with witchcraft, it is not clear why Elizabeth Hill thought Grace Sherwood had bewitched her. These missing details pale in comparison to the information lacking about Sherwood herself. While wills, deeds, and court documents can explain her socioeconomic status, they reveal nothing about who she was as a person. They also do not explain why so many neighbors suspected her of witchcraft. As a result, the real Grace Sherwood remains hidden. Contextualizing her story within the broader history of witch trials in Europe and North America can suggest potential answers to these questions, however. Even though every case and jurisdiction is unique, the work of researchers studying these trials reveals certain commonalities that help to explain what sort of people were typically accused of performing witchcraft. This research also shows how disputes among neighbors could escalate into these allegations. Furthermore, it makes it possible to understand how English belief in witches shaped the way Sherwood and her neighbors saw their world.

While folding Sherwood’s case into this wider historical context can fill some of the holes left by surviving records, it also makes this context richer. Because witch trials in Virginia were so rare, they have largely been overshadowed by the more numerous and better-documented trials that occurred in New England and in Europe. Sherwood’s ducking provides the perfect opportunity to broaden this focus, folding a region that is generally overlooked into the conversation. At the same time, it also deepens our understanding of life in colonial Virginia. For the most part, cases like Sherwood’s have been treated like strange curiosities rather than a reflection of seventeenth-century society. Understanding this trial and its connection to Virginia’s social, political, and cultural development creates a more nuanced picture of that world.

For the most part, these are benefits to historians and people interested in history. For people interested in Grace Sherwood, thoroughly examining the surviving records and incorporating them into their historical context has an additional value. These documents offer a more complete picture of who Sherwood and her accusers were and provide information that has been missing from the story. Even though copies of Sherwood’s trial records, will, and land deeds have been available since the 1890s, other important documents have been hiding in plain sight, waiting to be found. Previous researchers have almost completely overlooked documents about Sherwood’s accusers and others involved in the trial. These sources offer a wealth of information, revealing important family and community ties that undoubtedly influenced the course of events. From these records it is possible to see which parts of the Sherwood story that have become so essential to local tradition are grounded in verifiable fact and which are the product of legends.

Because Grace Sherwood has been such an important part of Princess Anne County’s and Virginia Beach’s culture, the scope of these legends is immense. A rich collection of tales has emerged about Sherwood and her ducking, adding the texture missing from known facts. Many of these stories developed well before Sherwood’s trial records were uncovered in the nineteenth century, meaning that for generations, they were the only source of information locals had about the strange events that occurred at Witchduck. Once the facts revealed by the historical record became widely known, legends adapted to incorporate these details into the story. The result has been the creation of tales that are a hybrid blend of folklore and history. In some cases, it is easy to separate fact from fiction. Some of the oldest and most popular legends about Sherwood are obviously fantastical. Few telling them would believe that she had the power to sail to England in a single night using nothing more than an eggshell. Nor do they consider stories of Sherwood flying with the assistance of enchanted pewter plates or dancing with the devil to be true. These tales are accepted as entertaining pieces of local tradition.

The distinction between legend and history is less clear when considering details that are grounded in reality. Was Sherwood an attractive yet unconventional woman who evoked both jealousy and contempt from her neighbors? Was she an herbalist who served her community as a midwife, only to be rejected and persecuted by the same people she healed? Was she left to languish in jail for more than seven years before finally being released once Virginia’s governor realized the injustice she endured? Is she the only Virginian convicted of performing witchcraft? According to long-standing belief, the answer to each of these questions is yes. Since these details are intertwined with information gleaned from surviving records, they are accepted as truth even though they cannot be proven. The fact that these legends have been shared for decades by family and friends, the media, local historians, and community leaders has given them even more credence. While each of these legends is the product of local tradition and not verifiable fact, the history of Grace Sherwood would be incomplete without them. They are an essential element of her legacy.

After all, these tales prompted people to dig through colonial documents to find Sherwood’s trial records. It is not an exaggeration to say that without these local legends, Sherwood and her ducking might have gone unnoticed by researchers for decades. Once discovered, her case would have likely been nothing more than a curious footnote in history books. It would not have become one of the most well-known witch trials outside of New England. For proof of this possibility, one only needs to look at the dozens of accused Virginia witches who remain almost totally unknown. Throughout most of the nineteenth century, people were largely unaware they existed at all. Grace Sherwood was seen as a singular anomaly, Virginia’s “only witch.” Even after it was clear this was not true, she continued to be the “Virginia witch,” standing alone in her notoriety. Ironically, many of these forgotten witches possessed characteristics attributed to Sherwood. While there is nothing that indicates Sherwood was a midwife, Joan Wright was. Tried in Jamestown in 1626, she was accused of using her powers to cause the death of a child. Similarly, William Harding, not Grace Sherwood, is the only person known to have been found guilty of performing witchcraft in Virginia. Convicted by a local court in 1656, he was whipped and banished from Northumberland County. Alice Stephens faced a similar trial almost a decade later, and while records reveal that she was “not acquitted,” it is unclear if she was convicted.7 There is nothing to suggest that the rumor that Sherwood was a midwife or the claim that she was Virginia’s only convicted witch emerged because of these cases. What is clear, however, is that Sherwood’s legend has kept her part of Virginia’s cultural consciousness, whereas Wright, Harding, and Stephens have fallen into obscurity.

This cultural impact is also an important reason why Grace Sherwood and her trial are such a significant piece of Virginia’s history. Even though tales about Sherwood do not accurately reflect what happened in 1706, they offer a unique look at the history of Princess Anne County and Virginia Beach. The history of Grace Sherwood’s legend is the history of this community. By looking at these stories, it is possible to see not only how they changed over time but how this region changed as well. As is commonly the case with folklore, the evolution of these legends reflects shifts in community values, social anxieties, and cultural attitudes. They become a window into the times in which they were told. They also help us to understand the people who tell them. This fact is especially true for the handful of individuals who dedicated themselves to collecting and sharing Sherwood’s story as Princess Anne County grew and became Virginia Beach. For these storytellers, keeping Sherwood’s legacy alive kept the area’s identity intact as its population expanded and it became the largest city in Virginia. Thanks to these efforts, Sherwood became more than a piece of local history; she became an essential part of Virginia Beach’s culture.

It is impossible to overstate this cultural significance. Over the course of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first, there have been countless reenactments, plays, musicals, and performances depicting Sherwood’s trial and ducking. Her story has been painted, sketched, photographed, and even embroidered in quilts. Locals and visitors alike have ventured to houses and locales connected to Sherwood, and for more than thirty years the “Honorary Witch of Pungo” has greeted attendees at the Pungo Strawberry Festival. Thanks to Grace Sherwood, being selected as the festival’s witch is one of the city’s highest honors. In fact, it is difficult to find a part of Virginia’s cultural landscape that Sherwood has not touched. In the 1980s a lawmaker even added her to a list of Virginians to be recognized during a proposed “Virginia Notables Day.” While the holiday never materialized, this failure does not diminish the fact that Sherwood was considered one of the most important figures from the commonwealth’s history.8 While Sherwood was never honored with an official holiday, she was added to Virginia Beach’s “Virginia Legends Walk.” Her plaque stands alongside those honoring former presidents, military heroes, and athletes. Like the resident who responded to Midge Wilson’s demand to rename Witchduck Road, many would argue Sherwood is deserving of this recognition. While some admire the “woman ahead of her time” imagined in local legend, others embrace her because she is such a unique part of Virginia Beach’s history. She is their witch.

The actual Grace Sherwood could have never imagined that people would be discussing her humiliating ordeal more than three hundred years after the fact. Nor could she have anticipated that she would inspire countless legends that would in turn embed themselves into every part of her hometown’s culture. Nevertheless, the history of Grace Sherwood and her trial is incomplete without the history of these legends and their cultural impact. Together they are the story of the Witch of Pungo.

Part I

Historical Developments

1

Early Life

Grace Sherwood’s father died in 1681, the first of a series of misfortunes that would ultimately lead to her trial and ducking in 1706. John White had been a respected member of their small community on the outskirts of Lower Norfolk County, and while his 195-acre farm hardly made him one of the county’s elites, it was enough to place him solidly among its small landholders.1 More importantly, White was not just a farmer; he was also a carpenter, which was a valuable skill in an area where trained craftsmen were in short supply. As long as he was alive, Grace Sherwood’s reputation was secure. With him gone, she was left a young mother and wife, married to a man she may have loved but who lacked her father’s status. Unlike his father-in-law, James Sherwood was not a landowner; he was also illiterate and lacked any marketable skills.2 The Sherwoods lived in a world where marriage was as much a social and an economic decision as it was a personal one. Most families wanted to ensure that any potential match would preserve or enhance their standing in the community. Measured against these goals, Grace’s marriage to James appears to have fallen short.

James Sherwood’s inability to read was not a significant issue. It was common for seventeenth-century Virginians to be either totally or functionally illiterate, even among those from prestigious families.3 The fact that he did not own land and was not a trained craftsman was a different matter. Without these advantages, he not only lacked his father-in-law’s social status, but it also left the couple dependent on what John White could provide them. When James Sherwood married Grace, he received 50 acres of his father-in-law’s farm, and he inherited the remainder when White died in 1681. Nevertheless, the Sherwoods had a limited ability to enhance their standing in the community. There was also a significant chance their economic position might deteriorate, which is exactly what happened. Life for the Sherwoods and their neighbors was precarious, even under the best circumstances. A sudden illness, a bad crop, or any one of countless other disasters was enough to destroy the lives of early Virginians. Economic and social insecurity multiplied the chance of misfortune.

Men like John White spent everything they had to bring themselves and their families to the colony. Tens of thousands of others secured their passage by selling themselves into indentured servitude.4 While those who had their own land avoided the brutal, and potentially short, life of servants, life was still perilous. From its founding, Virginians died at a catastrophic rate. Tidewater’s marshes, swamps, and wetlands may have provided fertile soil and easy access to the sea, but they also created an ideal breeding ground for the mosquitoes that spread deadly diseases like malaria. The unforgiving heat and humidity of Virginia’s summers proved equally disastrous for newcomers. Already weakened by their voyage from England, many died within a year of their arrival.5 Those who survived faced a life of backbreaking work clearing land and planting crops. Nothing illustrates the perils of life in Virginia more than the fact that it had a population of 90,000 in 1700 despite an influx of more than 120,000 colonists, and children had been born in the colony since its founding. It is little wonder that pamphlets printed in England regularly depicted Virginia as a brutal frontier.6

Figure 2. Map of Norfolk and Princess Anne Counties, ca. 1700. (Designed by Andrew Raymond, 2023)

Even with these risks, the promise of abundant land and the potential for economic success continued to attract settlers. In the decades after its founding, Virginia expanded rapidly from the initial enclave of Jamestown, with many venturing south to Elizabeth City County (known today as the city of Hampton). Considering its advantageous location at the entrance of the James River along the Chesapeake Bay, it quickly grew into one of the most populated areas of Virginia.7 With Elizabeth City County growing, land-hungry newcomers had to compete with established planters for a foothold in the area. As a result, it was not long before enterprising individuals began looking for land across the mouth of the James River. Slowly, but surely, the population expanded enough to justify the creation of Lower Norfolk County in 1637.8 Settlers from Elizabeth City County were quickly joined by immigrants from England. Many of those initial pioneers were able to amass enormous land grants and establish themselves as the area’s elite, shaping its development and its institutions. Adam Thoroughgood is probably the most famous of these individuals, receiving 5,350 acres along the Lynnhaven River in 1634, which he quickly populated with his family and more than one hundred indentured servants. Thanks to the size of his plantation and his political skill, this area would become the center of the new Lynnhaven Parish.9

Thoroughgood was to able claim such an expansive estate thanks to the headright system practiced by England’s colonial administrators. This policy gave individuals 50 acres of land for each person they brought to Virginia. By paying the way for indentured servants, Thoroughgood and others could expand their landholdings and secure their position as great landowners. Thousands more were like John White and used the headright to receive land for their families to live on and cultivate. Even though the large landholding elite dominated county and colonial politics, almost half of the farms along the Elizabeth River were 300 acres or less, and nearly three-quarters were under 500 acres. Along the Lynnhaven River, one-third of the land grants were for holdings between 300 and 750 acres. Based on the size of these plots, it is not surprising that almost half of all headright requests in the area were for fewer than five individuals. These numbers tell us that a substantial number of land grants were awarded for family members, not servants.10 This was the case for John White, who received 195 acres in 1674 for himself and three others—his wife, Susan; son John White Jr., and either a son or another male relative, Solomon White.11 It is not clear why White did not receive an additional grant for his daughter, Grace. When he received his land, she was already a teenager, and she would have been living in Virginia.

Even by the standards of the time, Grace Sherwood and her family lived in a sparsely settled and remote part of Lower Norfolk County. Their farm was located near Back Bay, a freshwater inlet that feeds into the Currituck Sound on the North Carolina border. With the creeks in the east connecting to Back Bay and those in the west feeding into the Elizabeth River, the area was isolated from the Lynnhaven River, the rapidly growing region that would be the heart of Princess Anne County when it was established in 1691.12 In fact, because waterways provided the most reliable way to travel, it would have been easier for White and his family to get to North Carolina or the northwestern parts of Lower Norfolk County. The fifteen or so miles between White’s farm and the more populated area around the Lynnhaven River would have required an overland trek using the county’s almost nonexistent roads. Even though efforts to improve roads began in 1660s, this development occurred slowly. For well into the eighteenth century, they “existed more in theory than in fact,” and they were often little more than widened trails that had initially been laid out by the local Native American tribes before the English came into the area.13 These roads became impassable in the rain, and in dry weather they became rutted and rocky. Even worse, the handful of bridges that existed were badly maintained. It was safer and easier to sail along the creeks, inlets, and rivers using flat-bottomed sloops.14 As a result, most people settled along the water and only traveled to places that could be reached by boat. This meant that Lower Norfolk County, like the rest of Tidewater, was defined by its relationship to the sea. Settlers relied on the tributaries and estuaries that cut through the land for easy access to the Atlantic Ocean and Chesapeake Bay. They also had to build their farms around the countless marshes, swamps, and wetlands that punctuated the landscape.15

Transforming this land into functioning farms was a grueling endeavor in and of itself. Before planting could begin, farmers had to clear their land of trees and other plants. This was not an easy task since most of Lower Norfolk County was still covered in dense forests. As a result, when John White moved to his farm, he only had the time and manpower to clear and cultivate a small portion of his land grant. In between harvests, he and his neighbors would begin clearing new fields that could be used the next season. Food and other crops would then be planted on the older plots.16 Since two people were typically needed to work 50 acres of land, even a modest-sized farm like John White’s required constant attention year-round. Conventional wisdom generally assumes that life on farms became less demanding between the harvesting and planting seasons. In reality, this period would be used for cutting timber, dredging ditches, making repairs, hunting and fishing, and clearing land. On family farms, these demands required everyone to work. Even though there was some segregation of labor, women almost always had to work in the fields to ensure a successful crop.17 There is nothing to indicate that John White ever had servants to work on his land; James and Grace Sherwood certainly did not. While it is possible that White might have occasionally hired workers on a temporary and unofficial basis, it is more likely that he and his family worked the land themselves.

Like many of their neighbors, White and the Sherwoods after him owned cattle, pigs, and sheep.18 Part of their land was used to raise this livestock and to grow food, primarily corn. As was the case with most Virginia farmers, the bulk of their farm was probably used to grow tobacco. Thanks to Virginia’s long growing season and reliable rainfall, this cash crop grew easily on the fertile soils along the coastal plain.19 Tobacco cultivation began almost as soon as the colony was established, and it quickly became the lifeblood of Virginia’s economy. As demand in England soared, farmers began expanding production. Chasing greater profits, the wealthy began expanding the size of their plantations so they could grow more tobacco, while small landholders began devoting as much land as they could to it.

By focusing on the cultivation of a single crop, Virginia farmers, especially small landholders, lived at the mercy of the markets that determined prices, and they had to rely on merchants and wealthy planters for loans to get them through hard times or to make large purchases.20 This reality meant that for White and the Sherwoods, a bad harvest, minor market fluctuations, or disruptions from wars and natural disasters could result in economic ruin. Even though farmers could subsist off the food they grew, it did not take much to push them into desperate poverty. In order to maximize their income, many also sold foodstuffs, meats, or timber in addition to selling tobacco.21 In fact, from the 1680s onward, Lower Norfolk County, and later Princess Anne County, became a center for pork production and tar manufacturing. The region had poorer soil than the land around the James River and could not grow the high-quality strains of tobacco that fetched the highest prices in British markets. This reality encouraged many settlers to look beyond Virginia’s most profitable enterprise.22 The growing importance of pork to the region’s economy is best reflected by the fact that many farmers would pay taxes, tithes, and fines in pork rather than tobacco, which served as the primary currency of Virginia until the 1750s.23

Unlike most of his neighbors, John White had an additional source of revenue available to him since he was trained as a carpenter. It is difficult to overestimate how valuable this training was for the time. Craftsmen remained scarce in Virginia until the middle of the eighteenth century, and its colonial economy never developed a strong manufacturing sector. Instead, most finished products were imported from England.24 Everything else was poorly made by unskilled locals. This was especially true for houses, which were crudely constructed. Given the lack of trained carpenters, White’s skills would have been in high demand from those looking to build or repair their houses. While it is impossible to know how good he was at his craft, it is clear from surviving court records that he was capable enough to avoid being sued by his neighbors for poor workmanship.25

Since John White was a carpenter, his house would have been better constructed than many of the others in the area. Considering the scarcity of skilled labor, most were built by the homeowners themselves with help from the community.26 That said, White’s house would have been identical to every other one in the area. Almost every Virginia family during this period lived in a small wood-framed house that was 16′ × 20′ or smaller.27 It would have been quickly built by securing wood frames to four heavy posts that had been driven into the ground. Planks or clapboards would then be fixed to the outside of the frame using pegs and joints. Clay would have filled in the gaps left between the wood, and it is possible that plaster made of oyster shells and lime was used to cover the interior walls. Even so, the house would have remained drafty and cold in the winter and stiflingly hot in the summer. The roof would have been made using wooden shingles, and the floor would have either been left as dirt or made of crude planks. Considering the scarcity of bricks during this period, the chimney was most likely made using wattle and daub—wood timbers filled in with soil and clay.28

Constructed as a one-room dwelling, the house would have been divided into rooms after it was framed. Considering his economic status, when John White died, he probably left James and Grace Sherwood a two- or three-room house. One room would have contained a bed and the family’s linens, while a central great room was where the family ate and most of the family slept. A third room was used as a kitchen.29 If the roof was pitched enough, lofts could have added additional space. No matter how well it was constructed, the odds are this house would not have survived more than a few decades. The heat and humidity of Virginia’s brutal summers would have quickly rotted the untreated wood used to make it, requiring significant repairs or, more likely, new construction.30

The fact that the house would have been built so close to the water did not help matters. Because rivers, creeks, and inlets offered the easiest way to travel, almost every farmer lived near the waterfront and installed two doors in his home. One faced the water, the other the fields. Doing so ensured quick access to sloops or boats, which could be used to reach the warehouses that stored crops for sale. These warehouses were positioned every twelve or fourteen miles along major waterways and provided a convenient spot to meet with the merchants who conducted business sailing along the water.31 These traders were the connective tissue binding Virginia’s rural communities with England, its colonies, and the wider world. Meeting with them not only gave farmers a chance to sell their crops and buy anything they might need, but it also offered the ideal chance to trade gossip and information.

While the area was remote and its residents must have felt isolated, it is important to remember that Virginia was part of the broader world made possible by the English empire. In fact, by the end of the seventeenth century, Virginia was England’s largest colony in North America, and it continued to attract thousands of immigrants each year.32 It was also a vital part of the transatlantic economy, with deep commercial ties to England as well as New England and the West Indies. Nevertheless, Virginia’s population was spread out over vast farms and estates, with planters scattered across plots that were hundreds and thousands of acres in size. Its government sporadically tried to spur the creation of towns with various laws from the 1660s through the 1690s, but these efforts were no more successful than those that tried to diversify the colony’s economy. Instead of towns, there were county seats that only had a courthouse, church, and an inn or tavern. Many lacked even these basic structures.33 With the exception of the capital of Jamestown, seventeenth-century Virginia never had the towns that defined colonial New England. As a result, Grace and James Sherwood’s small home on their farm was the center of their life.

By all accounts, the Sherwood home was reasonably, but not luxuriously, furnished. It had a bed and mattress, along with a few pillows and blankets, a table with seven chairs, two chests, and a box. It also had all the items necessary for cooking.34 While these possessions were a far cry from what would be found in the homes of the wealthy and elite, they were also more than many owned. This was a time when over half of poor and lower-middle-class households in Lower Norfolk County did not own chairs or benches, and many did not even have a table. In these cases, planks became a substitute surface for eating, and it was not unusual for chests to serve as seating for some while others sat on the floor. Though most homes had beds, almost half lacked sheets or linens.35 All of these things were imported from England, and there was almost no variety. As a result, the wealthy owned the same quality of goods as the poor; they just had more of them. It also meant that even the richest household would have looked primitive and backward to elites from England.36

Because imported items were so expensive, people saved and passed down everything, even if it was old or broken. It was not unusual for wills to include itemized lists of possessions and who should inherit them, with most listing fewer than twenty-five items.37 According to English law, the eldest living son received the family’s property. In practice, however, this tradition varied in Virginia. It was not unusual for younger sons to receive some land or for widows to be given rights to the estate while they lived. Daughters were frequently left livestock or furniture.38 While the immediate family inherited the bulk of an estate, it was also common for people to leave things to friends.

John White’s will was typical for the time. He died in the spring of 1681, only months after giving 50 acres of his farm to James Sherwood. By this point, Grace was his only surviving child, so White not only named his son-in-law as the executor of his will, but he also left James Sherwood the remainder of his land along with most of his possessions. He left a cow to his grandson James Sherwood Jr., who was only a child at this point. He also left cattle, a pot, and a gun to different members of the Sevell family, and a cow to Edward Atwood.39 His will was witnessed by Alexander Keeling and Jonathan Corperhew and offers further evidence that he was a respected part of the community. Alexander Keeling was a member of one of the most important families in the county, and both Corperhew and Atwood were significant landowners. Atwood was also frequently called upon by the county court to assess estates and serve on juries.40 The fact that White was friendly enough with Atwood to leave him something after his death and that he felt comfortable asking Keeling and Corperhew to witness his will shows that he was well liked.

The tendency for people to leave possessions to friends and neighbors further reflects how vital these ties were to seventeenth-century Virginians. While families were the cornerstone of most people’s lives, they also relied on those who lived nearby to help manage crises, to build fences, houses, and other buildings, and to lend money or tools when needed. As demonstrated by John White’s will, friends were also called upon to witness legal contracts and to appraise estates. Given the unpredictable nature of life, people also relied on friends to hear deathbed confessions and in many cases to oversee their estates or care for their children.41 While essential, the scope of this network was compact. Considering how difficult it was to travel, most people rarely ventured beyond six miles of their own farms. Without towns, neighbors lived miles apart, and many communities had fewer than several dozen people. They would gossip and socialize at church. Men would see each other when called to repair roads and bridges or to serve in the militia, and everyone looked forward to the opportunity to meet at a friend’s house to dance or enjoy a drink.42

While this social circle was filled with lifelong neighbors, newcomers were just as common. Unlike New England, young settlers regularly ventured to Virginia alone instead of traveling with their family. As a result, many did not live near large extended families that shared common roots in England like the Puritans did in the northern colonies. This fact does not mean that family ties were weak or less important, however; it simply meant that many were newly established in the region. Strong, close-knit families were the cornerstone of colonial society, and selecting a spouse was among the most important decisions a person made. Laws requiring the consent of a bride’s parents before marriage date back to the colony’s founding, as did laws regulating the right of servants to marry.43 Because so many Virginians came to the colony as indentured servants, it was not uncommon for marriage to occur later in life than in Europe, resulting in most families having only three or four children.44 Records indicate that James and Grace Sherwood had three sons, and they may have had other children who died before they could be named in wills or deeds.

When selecting potential matches for their children, most parents hoped to find spouses who would elevate the economic and social standing of the family. Considering her father’s background as a landowner and a carpenter, Grace White would have been an attractive match for potential suitors from a similar background. From a socioeconomic perspective, her decision to marry James Sherwood brought little advantage to the family. While some today believe that James Sherwood was a carpenter like his father-in-law, the surviving records do not support this claim. They show that he was one of the county’s countless single, landless farmers. Of course, Grace White was likely drawn to James Sherwood for reasons that cannot be captured in tax records and court documents, and by all accounts, John White supported the marriage. In addition to giving the new couple land and leaving them his estate, White referred to James Sherwood as his “loving son-in-law” in his will.45 Once Grace and James Sherwood were married, their status in their community was linked, and White’s respectability would only be able to do so much to bolster their reputations, especially since he died so soon after their wedding. The Sherwoods would have to establish their place in the community together.

It is difficult to overstate how important reputation was in seventeenth-century Virginia. Even though neighbors relied upon each other in this close-knit world, this closeness also created an ideal opportunity for petty bickering and conflict. Poorly defined property lines created fertile ground for land disputes, and it was easy for livestock to wander off and trample a neighbor’s crops.46 Moreover, the rumors shared after church or at a neighbor’s house could quickly move from tantalizing to scandalous. Such gossip was dangerous in a small world where people’s reputation was vital to their business dealings, the marriage prospects for themselves or their children, and their standing in the community. After all, who would want to do business with a cheat, agree to marry someone with an unsavory reputation, or lend money to a neighbor known to dodge his debts?

With such high stakes, inhabitants throughout England’s North American colonies were quick to defend their honor using the judicial system. County courts were among the first institutions established by Virginia’s colonial government, and they were responsible for local administration and judicial matters. They were presided over by a rotating slate of justices, selected by the governor from the members of elite families; and these justices were generally the ones who decided most cases. For serious matters, juries could also be empaneled to render verdicts.47 Slander and defamation suits were among the most common cases heard in county courts, and local justices spent a significant amount of their time mediating personal disputes.48 When weighing the outcome of these matters, they had to balance competing factions within the community and maintain the peace in the county. The last thing they wanted was a fight between neighbors to escalate to the point of disruption and disorder. At the same time, by intervening in interpersonal disputes, justices were able to enhance their own authority and legitimize their power.49 It is worth remembering that these communities were newly established and local elites could not rely on generations of status and wealth the way their counterparts in England could. Being mediators helped to establish their role as leaders in the county.

The tenuous nature of their authority also meant that county elites frequently initiated slander and defamation suits themselves. In fact, one of the first of these suits in Lower Norfolk County involved its most famous leader, Adam Thoroughgood. In 1637, Ann Fowler reportedly said, “let Captain Thoroughgood kiss my arse” when she found out he would be seizing goods from her husband. What today sounds like a harmless statement by a frustrated woman Thoroughgood viewed as a challenge to his character and standing in the community. He successfully brought Fowler up on defamation charges, and she was not only required to beg his forgiveness, but she was also lashed twenty times.50 While many of these cases resulted from business disputes or conflicts between masters and servants, some elites did little to help matters with their unseemly behavior. Adam Thoroughgood’s grandson, for example, scandalized the area in 1695 when he was publicly admonished by Lynnhaven Parish’s minister and church wardens for having an affair with Alexander Keeling’s wife. Months later, a frustrated Keeling returned to court asking for help to “compel” his wife to return to him after she had run off.51

With events like these, it is little wonder that slander and defamation suits were especially prevalent in Lower Norfolk County and in Princess Anne County when it was established in 1691.52 Many of these cases originated from gossip, but they also often resulted from statements made (or more likely shouted) during arguments or physical altercations. While elites may have been sensitive to any insult that appeared to be disrespectful, the average person only took their neighbors to court when the offense was deeply personal. These statements involved allegations of infidelity or attacks on a person’s family or his or her reliability as a business partner.53 While both men and women participated in slander and defamation suits, their concerns when initiating these cases were very different. Men almost always sued for statements made about their trustworthiness in business, their financial status, or their standing in the community. Women, on the other hand, almost always sued to defend their sexual reputations or to contest allegations that they were a witch, a connection not as distant as one might assume.54 Many times, the person sued in these cases was a man who alleged he had an illicit sexual relationship with a woman. More often, the person brought to court was another woman accused of spreading rumors about the affair.

In the 1630s, women were sued in half of the slander and defamation cases presented in the Lower Norfolk Court despite the fact they made up one-fifth of the population.55 That women were so overrepresented in these cases is likely a response to their status in colonial society. This was a world where women possessed little control over their own lives. People considered social structures to be part of a divinely ordained hierarchy where women were subordinate to men.56 Any challenge to this natural state of affairs would threaten the social and political harmony of the community. As a result, men held absolute authority in their homes, and women had no direct control over public affairs. In fact, unless a woman was a widow, she could not even petition the court on her own behalf or control her own property.57 Gossip offered a rare chance for women to influence their community. Rumors were an informal way women could reinforce social norms, regulate the behavior of their neighbors, and express their opinions about the world around them.58 Women may have had limited official means to intervene if they felt someone was behaving inappropriately or threatening the tranquility of the community. They could, however, spread stories among their friends and neighbors to express their disapproval.59

While spreading gossip gave women a form of informal power, it also created a headache for the justices trying to maintain social harmony. On an abstract level, gossip challenged the official power structure of the colony. More directly, rumors not only spurred lawsuits, but they could also result in brawls and other disruptions. As a result, penalties for slander and defamation were severe. Guilty verdicts often resulted in either a fine or upward of twenty lashes in the public square. The convicted could also be required to publicly recant their statements and apologize to the offended.60 Suits involving married women inevitably required the participation of their husbands. Since married women could not represent themselves in court, their husbands would have to bring forward a slander or defamation suit on their behalf. Similarly, a husband would be named as a codefendant if his wife was sued. As a result, lawsuits put husbands in legal as well as financial jeopardy.61 If their wives lost their case, husbands would be responsible for any court costs or fines that resulted from it. They also faced the stigma of being incapable of controlling their households, something that could threaten their reputation in the community. The unruly wife running roughshod over her husband while viciously gossiping about her neighbors was an enduring figure in English literature and drama.62 She not only represented a challenge to her husband’s authority but also to political order. Virginia leaders were obviously frustrated by this challenge. In 1662, they took the unprecedented step of passing a law that allowed husbands to avoid paying the fines that resulted from slander and defamation suits involving their wives. Instead, the women would be publicly ducked.63 The assumption was that this public humiliation would not only break the offender of her bad behavior, but it would also reassert the natural order.

Starting in the 1690s, Grace Sherwood found herself drawn into a series of these lawsuits. There is no way of knowing what made Sherwood such a target for community gossip. Since none of her legal cases resulted from business disputes, one can safely assume they were the result of an increasingly unsavory reputation or personal conflicts. What might have caused these conflicts is unclear. Existing trial records do not provide any insight into her personality, appearance, or demeanor. They also do not contain transcripts of what she said and only provide the slightest details about her cases. Since Sherwood was illiterate, she could not leave letters or other documents to give a sense of who she was. Even if she could read and write, she likely would not have written such things anyway. Seventeenth-century Virginia did not have a culture that encouraged the production of such documents. Even if surviving records do not reveal that much about who Grace Sherwood was as a person, they do provide important insight into her life. They make clear that her economic and social standing dramatically declined after her father’s death.

In the summer of 1690, the Sherwoods sold 15 acres along Basnett’s Creek to Plomer Bray.64 Like Edward Atwood, who was given a cow by John White in his will, Bray was a significant landowner in the area and respected in the community. In the 1690s, he not only served as the foreman of a jury, but he was also named as a militia officer alongside some of Princess Anne County’s most important leaders. By the time of his death, he was prosperous enough to be a slaveholder.65 Bray almost certainly bought the land to expand his own holdings and because of its resources. The deed specifically grants him “all mines and minerals, hunting, and hawking” rights on the land.66 Statements like this were typical during land sales, but it also suggests this plot was forest rather than farmland.

Several motives could have compelled James Sherwood to sell this land. He may not have had the resources to adequately exploit it and found it more advantageous to sell it. More importantly, he probably needed the money. Off and on throughout the 1690s, James Sherwood was sued for debts he had not repaid. On November 7, 1694, Sarah Jackson brought Sherwood to court demanding repayment of a loan of 450 pounds of tobacco. In court, Sherwood explained that he had made a partial repayment, suggesting that he did not have the means to clear the debt. The Princess Anne County Court ordered him to pay the remainder of what he owed.67 Four years later, as Grace Sherwood was starting to fight claims that she was a witch, James was back in court on two separate occasions for failure to repay debts. In these instances, he owed 240 pounds of tobacco to Francis Morris and 380 pounds of tobacco to Edward Baker (a debt assumed by Owen MacGavy). In both cases, Sherwood was ordered to fully repay his debts.68 While Francis Morris belonged to one of the elite families in the area, both Baker and MacGavy were of the same economic status as Sherwood.69

The land sale to Plomer Bray and the three debt suits filed against Sherwood are not exceptional in and of themselves. People sold land all the time, and at one time or another almost every landowner in Lower Norfolk County and later Princess Anne County borrowed money from friends, neighbors, or more prosperous farmers. In fact, in addition to slander and defamation suits, conflicts resulting from unpaid debts were the most common cases heard by the county court.70 It is notable, however, that John White managed to avoid selling land and was never in court because he failed to repay money he borrowed. It is also significant that James Sherwood did not purchase any new land and was never the one lending money. People bought new plots just as frequently as they sold them. Additionally, as the loan from Edward Baker and Owen MacGavy illustrates, someone did not have to be wealthy to lend money. The fact that Sherwood was only a seller and a debtor points to a precarious economic position. This picture becomes even clearer considering the fact that when Sherwood’s estate was assessed after his death, almost everything was listed as “old.” Most of the couple’s possessions were inherited from John White, meaning that they had not purchased anything of significant value in more than a decade.71 Sherwood was obviously less successful at managing his farm than his father-in-law had been.

Sherwood’s social standing was likely diminished as well. In a world where people asked trusted neighbors to witness wills and other documents, it is telling that James Sherwood never did so. Furthermore, the county court never called him to serve on a jury, and he was never asked by the county to appraise a neighbor’s estate or hold a minor office. During this time, roughly one-third of landowners from all classes served the county in at least one post throughout their lives.72 The fact that the county government never invited Sherwood to hold one of these positions suggests that he did not have a strong standing in the community. This diminished position would have inevitably extended to his wife, and it might be the reason she became so vulnerable to community gossip. In 1698, Grace Sherwood brought defamation suits against neighbors on three occasions, almost 20 percent of those cases heard by the court that year.73 The aggressive actions taken by the couple suggest that Grace Sherwood was the target of increasingly vicious rumors, and they were worried these whispers would permanently damage her reputation. Those concerns were well founded since we are still discussing these cases more than three hundred years later.

Two of Sherwood’s lawsuits are explicitly connected to allegations that she practiced witchcraft. The cause of her first court battle is less clear. On February 4, 1698, James and Grace Sherwood sued Richard Capps for defamation and asked the court for the substantial sum of £50 in damages.74 This amount would be the equivalent of approximately $7,300 today.75 Even if they had won, the courts would not have assessed such a significant penalty. Unless the case was especially egregious, justices or juries only awarded plaintiffs a nominal sum.76 Instead, the request for £50 in damages indicates how significant the Sherwoods thought Grace’s reputation had been damaged by Capps. Considering the couple’s financial position, it would also not be cynical to think that they might have been looking for an easy payday. In light of Sherwood’s future trials, many assume that Richard Capps accused her of being a witch. There is no way of knowing if this is true. Trial records only state that the Sherwoods sued Capps for “an action of defamation.”77 While it is possible Capps had alleged that Grace Sherwood practiced witchcraft, the court records probably would have mentioned this detail. It did so in her other suits from that year. Other slander suits contesting allegations of witchcraft heard in the Princess Anne County court are equally explicit. Instead, the gossip that resulted in the Capps suit was more likely sexual in nature.78 This was the most common slander directed toward women, and the Sherwoods would have been motivated to publicly challenge such allegations.

Although Richard Capps, like the Sherwoods, was a middling landowner, he came from a more established and prosperous family. His father, William Capps, owned several hundred acres near the Sherwoods. While the bulk of this estate went to his brother, Richard received enough of it to buy several hundred acres of his own around the same time that James Sherwood was selling land to Plomer Bray.79 Capps was also no stranger to the court. It regularly awarded him 200 pounds of tobacco for killing wolves; and like Sherwood, Capps was sued several times throughout the 1690s for not paying debts. In 1691, he was also in court for a trespassing complaint when one of his animals caused damage to a neighbor’s field. The next year, he was fined by the court for swearing, a charge that placed him in good company—county leaders like Francis Morris, Jonathan Keeling, and Adam Thoroughgood were sanctioned for the same charge on the same date.80 Unlike James Sherwood, these cases did not impact Capps’s respectability. In 1694, he was named as a constable, making him responsible for enforcing the court’s orders in his community.81

When he was sued by the Sherwoods early in 1698, he failed to appear in court, and the matter was delayed. Considering how difficult it was to travel beyond a handful of miles, it was not unusual for people to miss a summons to court.82 The trek from Back Bay to the Lynnhaven River, where the Princess Anne County courthouse was located, would have required Capps to be away from his farm for two or more days. Since he was no stranger to the court, his refusal to attend suggests that he did not consider the Sherwoods’ allegations to be worth the effort to refute. Even though the sheriff was ordered to ensure Capps’s appearance at the next court, that proved to be unnecessary. James and Grace Sherwood decided to drop their suit in March, and the matter was resolved without a trial.83 Richard Capps probably made sufficient amends to the couple, and they agreed further action was unnecessary. As far as the court was concerned, the Sherwoods had amicably settled their differences with him. This peace would prove to be short-lived. Six months later, the couple was back in court suing four more of their neighbors in a pair of cases that would establish Grace Sherwood’s reputation as a witch.

2

Under Suspicion

On September 10, 1698, the Sherwoods sued John and Jane Gisburne as well as Anthony and Elizabeth Barnes for defaming Grace Sherwood’s character. Unlike the couple’s previous case against Richard Capps, trial records explicitly state what prompted these new lawsuits. The Gisburnes and Elizabeth Barnes were telling neighbors that Grace Sherwood was a witch and that she had used her powers to hex them. Both cases were heard back-to-back by the same jury on the same day. Since they were heard last, they must have provided a tantalizing end to a busy but monotonous court day. For hours, the county justices mediated more than three dozen disputes, almost all of them related to debts.1 These mundane matters ended as soon as the sheriff called the Sherwoods forward. The attention of the court quickly shifted to stories of cursed crops and pigs as well as midnight bewitchments and supernatural transformations.

The Sherwoods were suing the Gisburnes and the Barneses each for £100, twice the amount they had asked for in the Capps suit.2 They were obviously worried that the stories about Grace were affecting her reputation, branding her a witch in the eyes of her neighbors. While the stories being spread by the Gisburnes and Elizabeth Barnes were likely the most egregious, there were almost certainly other rumors floating through Back Bay. The fact that the Sherwoods brought both cases simultaneously shows how eager they were to fight against this stigma. The couple also probably hoped that if they asked for such a large sum from both couples the jury might at least award them something, especially since they felt they had solid proof to support their accusations. Receiving even a small amount in damages would be better than the outcome of the Capps suit and would help to improve their financial position. Even though it is clear the Sherwoods were worried about Grace’s reputation, it is important to point out that these allegations did not put her in legal jeopardy. Neither the Gisburnes nor the Barneses formally accused Grace Sherwood of performing witchcraft, and the justices never contemplated bringing criminal charges against her. The only threat to Grace Sherwood was to her standing in the community. Considering how fiercely Virginians defended their reputations, that was damage enough.

In their case against the Gisburnes, the Sherwoods alleged that the couple “had wronged, defamed, and abused” Grace’s “good name and reputation” by “saying that she [was] a witch and bewitched their pigs to death and bewitched their cotton.”3 Since this suit was directed at both John and Jane Gisburne, they were both accused of defamation. In the case against the Barneses, Anthony Barnes was only named because he was legally responsible for his wife’s actions. Elizabeth Barnes was solely responsible for the alleged slander. She had apparently been telling people that Grace Sherwood “came to her one night and rode her” like a horse. Once she had finished, Sherwood then “went out the keyhole or crack of the door like a black cat.”4 She had the power to transform into a cat and change her size at will.

Compared to similar witch trials from New England and Europe, the records for these cases are frustratingly sparse. They explain the alleged defamation but not much else. There are no testimony transcripts that describe the demeanor of the participants or the questions from the justices. There is nothing from jury members explaining the rationale for their decisions. There is certainly nothing to compare to the dramatic accounts from Salem that describe witnesses collapsing on the floor in convulsions, the apparent victims of supernatural attacks from the witches they were testifying against. Instead, there are only a few brief sentences. Nevertheless, the allegations against Sherwood and the contours of each case are clear enough, especially if they are examined alongside the beliefs of seventeenth-century Virginians.

This was a world where people accepted, without question, the existence of the supernatural and its power over their lives. They explained this force through an intersection of religious beliefs, the opinions of secular experts, and folk wisdom.5 People believed even the most mundane events could be omens of things to come or signs of divine punishment or reward. Anything out of the ordinary could signal impending disaster or deliverance from it.6 Virginians, like others throughout the European world, also took for granted that people could use otherworldly forces for their own ends. This is the very definition of magic—using the supernatural to influence the world with power that could be used to harm or protect. According to popular wisdom, some practitioners of magic tried to unlock the secrets of the natural world, relying on herbs and potions to achieve their goals. Others attempted to harness the power of supernatural entities by using complex rituals intended to summon spirits and demons. By the sixteenth century, educated Europeans separated magic users into different categories defined by how and why they performed their supposed supernatural feats. While scholars published tract after tract debating these definitions, such terminology meant very little to the average person. To them, it did not matter if someone was called a wizard, witch, necromancer, or magician; it only mattered if that person was causing pain and misfortune.7

These debates imply, of course, that people not only believed in magic and the supernatural but also that people practiced it. This idea clashes with the rationalist worldview that has dominated Western thought since the late seventeenth century, and it is often difficult to discuss magic and not see it as one of the “dysfunctions of early modern society.”8 It is easy to dismiss the belief in the supernatural and the fear of witchcraft as nothing more than ignorant people trying to rationalize misfortune or to cynically persecute neighbors they did not like. This perspective makes it tempting to minimize or dismiss belief in magic, an attitude that prevents us from fully appreciating its importance. This belief in magic must be evaluated on its own terms, or else it is impossible to understand its impact on the societies that held it. It is important to acknowledge that it emerged from deeply held convictions that influenced how people interacted with their neighbors and their world. We do not have to believe in magic and the supernatural to accept that people did. It is also possible to realize that allegations of witchcraft were motivated by complex social, political, and cultural factors while also acknowledging that many accusers nevertheless believed the people they accused were actually witches.

After accepting these possibilities and examining what Virginians believed about magic and witchcraft, the rumors spread about Grace Sherwood are not as strange as they originally seem. In fact, they were typical. Neighbors alleged she used magic to harm others, an act legally referred to as maleficium.9 This term dates back to Roman times, and it was why witchcraft was a crime in England and Virginia. In English courts, for someone to be guilty of practicing magic, they had to have used it for a specific and nefarious purpose. The range of misfortunes that could result from maleficium was extensive. It could cause sudden illness or death, destroy crops, cause bad luck or misfortune, create storms, and could even cause abnormally terrifying nightmares.10 In some cases, men even blamed poor hunting on maleficium. Witches were said to have the power to curse guns and bows, or hunters themselves, causing missed shots. Joan Wright, the first person tried for witchcraft in England’s North American colonies, was accused of afflicting a hunter with such a hex in Virginia in 1626.11 While these allegations might seem like a comical and convenient way to explain bad aim, they make more sense considering how essential hunts were to the well-being of many colonial families. Unsurprisingly, when people worried about witchcraft, they were most concerned with the risk it posed to the health of their families and the welfare of their crops and animals.

It was widely accepted that witches could cause sudden and unexplained illnesses or deaths as well as miscarriages or stillbirths. They could also use curses to kill livestock, make cows go dry, or blight crops.12 While these attacks were often limited to a single family or farmer, witches could wreak havoc on entire communities as well. They could influence the weather and could cause droughts or devastating storms.13 Control over the weather not only made witches a threat to farming communities but to merchants and sailors as well. The same storms that destroyed fields and buildings could also be unleashed on ships at sea, causing shipwrecks.14 King James I, for example, fervently believed that witches attempted to assassinate him with such a storm while he was sailing to his Danish bride in 1589. Efforts to expose those responsible for the tempest led to one of the most vicious witch hunts in Scottish history.15 The belief that witches could summon storms also motivated the only known executions for witchcraft in English North America outside of New England. On three separate occasions in the 1650s, crews bound for the mid-Atlantic colonies hanged passengers they suspected of summoning storms that endangered the voyage.16

As if these threats were not enough, witches could also terrorize their victims with a range of torments. Using their diabolical powers, it was believed that witches could ride horses to exhaustion and the brink of death. They could also enchant people and ride them as well. These poor victims were compelled to run long distances throughout the night with the witch straddling their backs the entire time.17 Often she only returned them to their beds at daybreak, exhausted and barely alive. Just as often the accused witch might be content to simply ride her victim around his or her house. Elizabeth Barnes was in especially good company in Virginia, where allegations of riding were frequently made against suspected witches. In 1695, Anne Ball told her neighbors that two witches had ridden her on several occasions. She claimed that one of her tormenters, Eleanor Morris, was so persistent that she had ridden Ball consecutively for “several days and nights almost [to the point of] death.”18

Figure 3. Depiction of a witch riding a victim. (From The Brideling, Sadling, and Ryding of a rich Churle in Hampshire, pamphlet, 1595)

In Princess Anne County, months before Grace Sherwood sued the Barneses, Jonathan and Anne Byrd brought a similar defamation case against Charles Kinsey and Jonathan Potts. Both men said that Anne had ridden them. Kinsey told neighbors she rode him from his house to a neighbor’s farm, while Potts said that she rode him along the shore. In court both admitted to making these claims, though Kinsey acknowledged that his recollection may have only been a vivid dream. Potts stood by his account, saying his statements were true to his “best knowledge.” Foreshadowing the outcome of Grace Sherwood’s cases, the jury found for Kinsey and Potts despite this evidence.19 It is clear that Sherwood was not alone in fighting against rumors that she bewitched and rode her neighbors. In fact, the notion that witches would ride enchanted people or animals was much more common than the idea that they flew.20

Even though the image of a witch flying on a broomstick is etched into the popular imagination, the notion that witches could fly was actually one of the most controversial beliefs about them. The Catholic Church began preaching against this idea in the Middle Ages and considered it to be a diabolical delusion. This decision did not settle the matter. For centuries after, scholars vigorously debated whether witches could fly or if they only appeared to do so.21 In Europe, a witch’s ability to fly was connected to lurid stories of child murder. People believed that witches would use the fat of slaughtered children to create the ointments and salves that allowed them to travel to infernal gatherings known as sabbaths.22 Efforts by European authorities to destroy these sabbaths led to intense witch hunts on the continent. Outside of New England, authorities in the English-speaking world were less convinced these gatherings took place. Instead of believing that witches belonged to an underground network of devil worshipers trying to destroy society, most English courts considered them to be an individual threat.

In addition to riding and flying, witches could also transform into animals. Like the notion that witches could fly, educated Europeans generally rejected this belief as nothing more than a delusion. This rejection did little to stop people from accepting it.23 For example, in Scotland, Isobel Grierson was accused of transforming into a cat and leading a group of other cats to terrorize the household of Adam Clark. She was executed as a witch in 1607. Similarly, for more than twenty-five years Eunice Cole, who lived in Hampton, England, in the seventeenth century, fought accusations that she could turn into a dog, a cat, and even an eagle. 24 Allegations like these fill trial records, and they are even more common in the stories people told about witches. New England folklore is filled with tales of witches taking the form of birds to attack hunters or to evade capture.25 These stories were also prominent in Virginia. Inhabitants of York County, located sixty miles from Princess Anne County, used to say that a local witch would surprise her guests by entering a room in the form of a cat only to transform into a human while they were looking away.26 Not only could witches change into animals, but they could also change their size. In particular, they shrank so they could jump through keyholes and enter their victims’ homes.27 As outlandish as it might seem today, Elizabeth Barnes claiming that Grace Sherwood could become a cat and jump through keyholes was a common accusation for the time.

Figure 4. Depiction of witches presenting wax dolls to the devil. (The History of Witches and Wizards, 1720)

Witches had a range of methods at their disposal to accomplish their nefarious goals. They made oils and salves to change shape or fly; they also mixed potions and herbal concoctions that caused illness and death. Witches could even create dolls to hex their victims from afar. Made of wood, dough, wax, cloth, or corn husks, they were sculpted to crudely resemble a human form. A witch would then mutilate it in some way, and, according to belief, this damage would transfer to the intended victim. European folklore, especially from the British Isles, is filled with stories of people being struck down by a witch using these poppets.28 Simply having strange-looking dolls could be proof enough to condemn a suspect. In 1579, several women were charged in Windsor for trying to use witchcraft to murder Queen Elizabeth I. When searches revealed that they possessed wax effigies of the queen, the suspects were promptly executed. Similar dolls were also the key evidence used against those accused of killing the Earl of Derby in 1595.29 The frequency with which these dolls appeared as evidence during trials proves that they existed outside the realm of folklore. People used them. This fact does not mean the dolls really worked, only that people thought they did.

Even though popular culture depicts a witch casting her spells while cackling over a cauldron or sticking pins into a doll, in reality, the most common way a witch cursed someone was with a simple sentence or malicious thought. The case of Elizabeth Goodman of New Haven, Connecticut, shows how powerful people assumed a witch’s words could be. In 1653, Goodman was accused of cursing several people. According to testimony, she asked a neighbor for buttermilk. When he told her he needed it for his pigs, Goodman responded, “It will do your pigs no good.” The animals died soon after. When another neighbor denied her request for beer, she made a similar remark, and the next day the beer was “hot, sour, and ill-tasting.” The next four or five batches brewed were equally rank.30 Goodman was immediately blamed for these misfortunes. Her case could be used as a template for understanding most witchcraft allegations. Sometimes a heated comment followed by an unexpected disaster was all it took to generate suspicion.

Faced with such dangers, most people relied on metaphysical protections at one point or another. Sometimes this could mean placing small charms around the house to ward off evil.31 Under most circumstances, this item could be as ordinary as a horseshoe nailed over the door. In some cases, people relied on more elaborate tools, like witch bottles. To make these charms, people would fill a small bottle or phial with nails, pins, and urine. It was then sealed and buried near the home.32 The bottle would then protect the maker from curses, returning any pain and suffering to the witch. Archaeological evidence reveals that witch bottles were used in Princess Anne County. In 1979, only a few miles from where the county courthouse was located in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, archaeologists found one of these bottles intact. It was 125 × 25 mm, and it contained three iron nails and more than twenty brass pins.33

While these charms were thought to ward off evil, if someone was bewitched, they might need to take more drastic measures to protect themselves and their families. One Maryland man, convinced he was being tormented by a witch who came through his keyhole at night, thwarted her attacks by plugging the keyhole. Lore from southeastern Virginia tells of a quick-thinking man who prevented a witch from riding him by wrestling a bridle from her hands and forcing it into her mouth, turning her into a horse instead of him. As late as the nineteenth century, people in North Carolina would try to break bewitchments by crafting dolls out of dough, tying a string around its neck, and baking it. The thought was that as the dough expanded, the string would tighten, strangling the witch. To escape death, she would have to break the enchantment.34

If the situation was dire enough, people could also visit “cunning folk.” Almost every community had a man or woman rumored to understand magic and the supernatural, and people would turn to them for advice or assistance. These cunning folk would offer magical remedies for illnesses, provide countercurses to the bewitched, or use divination to help people navigate their futures.35 In essence, they were a blend of modern-day homeopathic practitioners, psychic consultants, and spiritual advisors. They were frequently denounced by both Protestant and Catholic clergy, who considered the cunning folk’s supposed supernatural abilities to be a transgression of traditional Christian doctrine.36 These denunciations did not stop people from going to them. Much to the frustration of church leaders, people from all backgrounds continued to rely on their local cunning person well into the eighteenth century.37

It is not cynical to assume that priests and ministers saw a challenge to their authority when the cunning folk offered spiritual insight and advice. While this is likely the case, church leaders also thought these consultations were dangerous flirtations with evil. By this time, it was well accepted that magic had diabolical origins; as a result, any use of the supernatural was tainted, regardless of the intent of the practitioner. Even things as innocuous as teenage girls using divination to discover the identity of their future husbands or as beneficial as a spell being used to cure an illness invited the devil into the community.38 These concerns were largely limited to religious officials, however. The average person worried less about the satanic origins of the cunning folk’s power than they did about a more straightforward question: what happens if that person uses their powers maliciously? After all, if cunning folk could heal illness, they could also cause it. If they could break curses, they could also cast them.

Because of this fear, it is not a surprise that cunning folk were often accused of practicing witchcraft on their neighbors.39 Today it is commonly accepted that this is what happened to Grace Sherwood. She is said by some to have been a folk healer who helped neighbors with herbal remedies and served her community as a midwife. Once neighbors labeled her a witch, her skills were used as proof of her magical abilities. There is nothing in the surviving records to support these assertions. Even though midwives were sometimes accused of performing witchcraft in Europe and New England, such allegations were rarely made in Virginia. In fact, well into the eighteenth century, justices frequently consulted midwives during paternity and infanticide trials. Midwives also regularly served on the juries that searched suspected witches for suspicious marks.40 Even if this were not the case, there is nothing to indicate that Sherwood was a midwife, let alone an herbalist and healer. There are no records that show she served as a midwife, and there is no mention of members of the community consulting her in times of illness. Furthermore, none of her accusers alleged that she used herbal concoctions in her supposed bewitchments or that she misused her healing powers.

The only case in Virginia where a community turned on their local cunning woman was that of Joan Wright, not Grace Sherwood. When Wright was brought to court in 1626, more than twenty-five people accused her of performing witchcraft. One of the most damning allegations came from a father who claimed that Wright cursed his newborn child when he refused to hire her as a midwife. The baby died soon after birth. Others alleged that when they asked her to tell fortunes, she would only predict deaths and misfortunes. This devastating claim was joined by accusations that she caused a young girl to dance “stark naked” in the fields and that she cursed hunters.41 As with Grace Sherwood’s trial from 1706, the records for Joan Wright’s case are frustratingly incomplete. There is no mention of the court’s verdict or what happened to her after the trial.

Cunning folk were not the only ones vulnerable to accusations of witchcraft; under the right circumstances anyone could be branded a witch. That said, there are certain characteristics that made some more vulnerable than others. Women were always more likely to be labeled a witch than men. A survey of English witch trials reveals that 75 percent of the accused were women, and in some parts of the county this figure was as high as 90 percent.42 These numbers are consistent in the colonies and are comparable to other European countries as well. In Virginia, of the dozen or so known accusations, only two were made against men. Jonathan Byrd was accused alongside his wife, meaning that William Harding was the only man brought up on charges in Virginia as a sole defendant. Convicted of “witchcraft and sorcery” in 1656, he was banished from Northumberland County after receiving ten lashes on his back.43 Harding’s case is an anomaly, however. In European and North American witch trials, men were generally only accused alongside their wives or during panics, when multiple arrests were made in a short period of time. Since Virginia never experienced a witch craze, the number of men accused was limited. The gender disparity in the number of accusations is only part of the story. In Europe and North America, women were always more likely than men to be convicted of practicing witchcraft and more likely to be executed after conviction.44

Given the dramatic differences in these numbers, it is impossible to ignore the way attitudes toward gender and sex influenced beliefs about witches and witchcraft. The historian Carol Karlsen even goes so far as to argue that the story of witchcraft in Europe and North America is the story of women and what people thought about women. Through a close examination of New England witch trials, she convincingly argues that accusations against alleged witches reflected a broader anxiety about the growing power of women in public and private spaces.45 Karlsen is not alone in making these observations. Witches represented the ultimate example of “unruly women” who inverted moral order. Rather than healing the vulnerable, they hurt them. They endangered children rather than protecting them. Instead of contributing to the tranquility of their community, they sowed chaos and carnage. Witches transgressed accepted sexual norms, and most dangerously of all, they relished their own power. Through their actions, they threatened the formal and informal institutions that tied communities together, and they subverted the natural hierarchy.46

These fears fill the books and pamphlets that tried to explain why women were more likely to be witches than men. Influenced by medieval Christian dogma and the ideas of classical philosophers like Aristotle, these writings assumed that women were the natural opposite of men. They were emotional rather than rational and were incapable of restraining their impulses and desires.47 For example, Daemonologie, a book written by King James I in 1597 to explain the occult, argues that women were morally and intellectually weaker than men, and as a result, they were more susceptible to corruption by the devil.48 The implicit misogyny of James’s logic was explicit in The Malleus Maleficarum, which was written a century earlier. Published as a handbook for witch-hunters, it states that witches were fallen women who exulted in their femininity and their rejection of God. As proof, The Malleus Maleficarum gives shocking accounts of witches cannibalizing children, having sex with the devil, and using magic to castrate men.49 Even though the book was written by two Dominican monks, it was widely read in Protestant countries and shaped European attitudes about witches and witchcraft for centuries.

Age and class also influenced who was targeted as a witch, but these characteristics were more important in Europe than in North America. In Europe, the accused were often elderly and desperately poor. In the colonies, women between the ages of forty and sixty were the most likely to be accused, not the elderly. For the most part, this is because there were fewer older people in the colonies.50 These regions also lacked the extreme poverty found in Europe. Nevertheless, poorer women were always vulnerable to accusations, especially if they begged from their neighbors and did so aggressively. This tendency can be seen with the accusations made against Elizabeth Goodman, who not only asked her neighbors for beer and buttermilk but also became hostile when she did not get what she wanted. This was also the case with Sarah Good, one of the first women accused in Salem. She was reduced to begging as her economic condition declined, and her neighbors thought she did so in a “sullen and ungrateful” manner. She was known to mutter under her breath when approaching people and became “sharp tongued” and combative when denied.51

As important as age and economic status were, reputation and respectability mattered more in North America. Women who had been in legal trouble before, especially for moral offenses, were more likely to be labeled as witches. Things were even more dire for women who had previously been accused of practicing witchcraft or were related to other suspected witches.52 Sometimes, however, a combative reputation was enough to cast suspicion on someone. Accused witches were almost always women who were described as disruptive, argumentative, foul-mouthed, and generally unlikable. This was certainly the case with Katherine Harrison, who was terrorized in 1669 by the inhabitants of Wethersfield, Connecticut, after she was suspected of witchcraft and the court did not act. She had a tumultuous relationship with her neighbors marked by frequent lawsuits and complaints. When those neighbors began experiencing misfortunes, they immediately assumed that Harrison was responsible.53 Harrison’s case was far from exceptional. Time and time again most witchcraft accusations in Europe and North America started with small disputes between neighbors. If these conflicts were followed by an unexplained calamity, like a death or crop blight, the afflicted would assume he or she had been bewitched. This fact means that in most cases the accused and the accuser were well acquainted.54

With this in mind, it is easy to assume that people during this period irrationally blamed every problem they encountered on witchcraft. This assumption is not true. Life was surrounded by unpredictability, and death was a constant tragedy that struck people of all ages. Everyone understood that people got sick, crops failed, and disasters happened. Witchcraft was only suspected when these things occurred “unnaturally” and without a clear cause.55 With modern science, it is easier to understand how seemingly healthy people can become suddenly ill or how once fertile land can become less fruitful. People at this time did not have these explanations; they only had their experience of what was typical, and a worldview that used magic and the supernatural to explain what could not be explained otherwise.56 Their culture and folklore also told them the sort of person most likely to bewitch them. It warned them to be weary of the argumentative woman who lived nearby, the one who seemed to enjoy transgressing social norms or was content living on the fringes of the community. Who else would perform such heinous acts? Who else would react to disputes by cursing her neighbors? With this context in mind, the accusations against Grace Sherwood are easier to understand.

It is clear from records that Sherwood was not targeted by strangers but by people who knew her well. They were the neighbors she saw most often and likely argued with from time to time. She was certainly well acquainted with the Gisburnes. They lived next to the Sherwoods and continued to do so for at least a generation.57 As neighbors, John Gisburne had a cordial friendship with Grace’s father, John White. Eighteen years before he was in court for slandering her, John Gisburne witnessed the deed that gave 50 acres of White’s land to James Sherwood.58 There is no way of knowing what caused the relationship between the Gisburnes and the Sherwoods to deteriorate so dramatically. It is possible that while John Gisburne got along with John White, this relationship did not extend to White’s daughter and son-in-law. Something as simple as one of Sherwood’s animals trampling Gisburne’s crops or Gisburne accidentally cutting down one of Sherwood’s trees could have been enough to start a fight between the two.

It is clear that the Gisburnes lost some pigs and part of their cotton crop in a way that seemed to lack explanation. That they suspected a curse suggests that the animals had appeared otherwise healthy before they died, and the cotton crop failed when it otherwise seemed to be growing on fertile land. While it is possible that people already suspected Grace Sherwood was a witch and the Gisburnes blamed her based on this reputation alone, it is even more likely that they had an altercation with her before their misfortunes. It would not be unreasonable to assume that Sherwood may have thought Gisburne had taken one of her pigs as his own or that his pigs had damaged some of her crops. Considering what we know about witchcraft accusations, if Sherwood confronted Gisburne about this issue and the pigs died soon after, followed by his cotton, he could easily have assumed she was responsible.

The potential motive for Elizabeth Barnes’s accusation is less clear. Her claim that Sherwood came in the night, rode her, then escaped in the form of a black cat is consistent with what Virginians believed witches could do. But why did Barnes identify Sherwood as her attacker and not someone else? As with the Gisburnes, it is possible that Barnes accused Sherwood because she already had a reputation for being a witch. It is also probable that Barnes and Sherwood had an argument in the days before Barnes’s nightmare, and she assumed that Sherwood was taking her revenge.

Neither Barnes nor the Gisburnes were shy in sharing their suspicions. The Sherwoods found nine witnesses to testify on their behalf. Six testified in the case against the Gisburnes, three against Elizabeth Barnes.59 Even though there is not a transcript of what they told the court, they almost certainly confirmed that they had heard the stories about Grace Sherwood’s witchcraft. It is also possible that some of them were there as character witnesses for Grace, though the fact that none of the witnesses testified in both cases makes this less likely. The Sherwoods obviously felt these witnesses would help them make a strong and compelling case. Since they were responsible for paying the travel and lodging costs for these witnesses if they lost, bringing nine people to testify came with a significant financial risk. Neither the Barneses nor the Gisburnes brought witnesses of their own.

Unfortunately for the Sherwoods, the jury found against them in both cases. Considering a jury had reached a similar conclusion in Jonathan and Anne Byrd’s lawsuit a few months earlier, this outcome is not surprising. Slanderous statements apparently needed to be egregious for juries in Princess Anne County to award damages. The jury might have considered the allegations made against Sherwood to be too trivial to cause serious harm. It is also possible that she already had such a dubious reputation that the jury felt that these statements did not make it any worse than it already was. The jurymen would have known the Sherwoods, Barneses, and Gisburnes, and they would have been aware of what people thought about all three couples. As well-respected members of the county who were held in high regard by the community, the jurors would have been influenced by the reputations of everyone involved in the trial. They were also aware of the high bar the court set for proving slander and defamation.

The foreman, Francis Sayer, witnessed almost a dozen wills from the 1660s through the 1690s. He was named the guardian of a friend’s children and would later be called upon by the court to arbitrate a dispute in 1701. As chance would have it, that same year he also served on a grand jury with John Gisburne.60 Christopher Cocke, another member of the jury, was also frequently asked to witness wills and other contracts, often by some of the most prestigious families in the county. Moreover, he knew Grace Sherwood well enough to give her a loan in 1708.61 In addition to serving the county as major or minor officeholders, almost every member of the jury was a significant landowner. Two, John Keeling and Henry Spratt, were members of the county elite. As the jury compared the Sherwoods to the Barneses and Gisburnes, it is obvious who they found to be more credible.

Economic status does not appear to have influenced the jury’s opinion. All three families were middling landowners. Even though John Gisburne had enough wealth to acquire an additional 57 acres in 1691, neither he nor his sons ever owned more than a few hundred acres.62 Like James Sherwood, Anthony Barnes sold land in the 1680s and did not offset this loss with new purchases. He also had several debts and was frequently in court for nonpayment. Further reflecting how interconnected this community was, Barnes was sued in the early 1700s by Owen MacGavy, a witness for the Sherwoods. MacGavy had previously sued James for not paying debts as well. In a further coincidence, Henry Spratt, who served on the jury, also brought Barnes to court over debts.63 Even if they were in similar economic conditions, the Barneses and the Gisburnes enjoyed more respect in their community.

As was the case with Richard Capps, John Gisburne appeared in court for minor offenses like swearing or refusing to work on the roads, but this was not damaging to his reputation in the long run.64 He was still asked to witness wills and contracts, and he served as a minor officeholder on several occasions. In addition to sitting on a grand jury in 1701, he was a constable in 1697 and again in 1698.65 As was the case when Richard Capps held this office, Gisburne would have been responsible for enforcing the court’s orders in his region of the county. His appointment also means that when the Sherwoods sued him, they were suing a sitting constable. Gisburne’s service to the county stands in stark contrast to James Sherwood, who was never asked to perform any of these functions. While Anthony Barnes never held office, Elizabeth Barnes witnessed a will in 1686. The parish vestry also trusted the couple enough to put an orphan in their care. Furthermore, even though he was not of their status, Anthony Barnes was well liked enough by elites like Edward Moseley to receive money from their estates when they died.66 Considering the fact that the Barneses only moved to the county in 1683, when Anthony was thirty-nine and Elizabeth was twenty-four, it is obvious they integrated into their community well.

While both the Barneses and the Gisburnes were more respected than the Sherwoods, that does not explain why the jury was so willing to overlook the testimony of nine witnesses. Since there are no transcripts from the trial, there is no way of knowing if these witnesses robustly supported the Sherwoods’ case. Since they would have to pay these witnesses if they lost, however, it is safe to assume the couple would not have brought anyone who would have damaged their cause. Looking at the background of the witnesses, those who testified against the Barneses were more credible than those who testified against the Gisburnes. All three of the witnesses in the Barnes case were men. The final witness, John James, was particularly esteemed. He owned several hundreds of acres of land, served as constable in 1692, was asked by the court to audit estates on several occasions, and the same year he was in court for the Sherwoods, the county justices asked him to evaluate the living conditions of an orphan.67 The other two, Owen MacGavy and Edward Baker, had solid reputations as well.68 The fact that their testimony did little to sway the jury suggests that it did not think that Elizabeth Barnes’s account of being ridden damaged Grace Sherwood’s reputation.

The witnesses the Sherwoods brought against the Gisburnes were less solid. Two were women who appeared alone. The first, Martha Ward, was a widow who was so impoverished that the court had to convince creditors to forgive their loans so she would not become reliant on parish charity.69 Two of the other witnesses, Thomas and Elizabeth Williams, had such a scandalous reputation they likely had limited credibility with the court. Thomas Williams was drunk in public often enough that the court fined him in 1692, when he was also cited for swearing. He was also frequently in court seeking repayment from people who owed him money and for not paying the debts he owed.70 Like so many others, these matters were not damaging in and of themselves. Instead, it was the couple’s married life that would have hurt their credibility the most. On July 3, 1695, the Williamses were in court for a slander case of their own, alleging that John Taylor “scandalized and abused” Elizabeth’s reputation “with many false and scandalous words.” Like the Sherwoods’ case against Richard Capps, it is not clear what these “false and scandalous words” were, but they were almost certainly sexual in nature. A jury found in favor of Taylor, and the Williamses were ordered to pay all court costs, including Taylor’s travel expenses along with those of the witnesses.71 The jury’s decision proved to be well-founded since Thomas Williams was back in court in July 1699. This time, he was suing Robert Deermore for “carrying away and entertaining” Elizabeth. Thomas not only demanded that the court order Elizabeth to return home, but he also requested that it order that no one else “harbor nor entertain her, the said Elizabeth, at their house.”72 This pronouncement did little to change things. Two months later, he was back in court, suing Job Brooks for “entertaining his wife on several evil” occasions.73

The Williamses clearly had a troubled marriage, and the nature of these troubles was obvious to their neighbors. A woman known to flagrantly commit adultery and a man who seemed incapable of managing his home were not the best people to speak on the Sherwoods’ behalf. This fact is especially true if we consider their own suit against Richard Capps earlier in 1698. Nevertheless, it is worth remembering that losing these suits against the Barneses and the Gisburnes did not put Grace Sherwood in legal jeopardy. While having to pay the expenses of their nine witnesses was a burden on the couple’s already fragile finances, that was the only immediate consequence of their loss. More subtle, and in the long term more damaging, was the impact on Grace Sherwood’s reputation. Neighbors already believed that she was a witch, and these cases did not quell that rumor. Instead, suspicions continued to grow until Sherwood found herself back in court. Few could have imagined that these new cases would make her the most famous witch in Virginia’s history and shape the area’s culture for centuries afterward.

3

Ducked

After losing her lawsuits against both the Gisburnes and the Barneses, life appears to have calmed down for Grace Sherwood. Except for a debt suit brought by Owen MacGavy in 1699, neither she nor her husband had further business with the court until Grace’s legal troubles began again in 1705.1 One should not interpret this silence to mean that her relationship with her neighbors improved. Instead, the rumors about her probably remained quiet enough to avoid a formal complaint. Since the Sherwoods’ earlier efforts to defend Grace’s reputation failed with considerable financial cost, it is also likely they felt another slander suit would be a futile effort. Considering the allegations that ultimately led to Grace Sherwood’s ducking, it is clear that many of her neighbors still believed she was a witch. Despite this reputation, no one could have predicted the extraordinary events that would transpire after Grace Sherwood returned to court on December 7, 1705. Once again she was suing one of her neighbors, only instead of accusing Elizabeth Hill of slander, Grace Sherwood alleged that Hill had physically assaulted her.

This time she was in court alone. James Sherwood had died four years earlier, in the summer of 1701, leaving Grace to petition the justices on her own. Given the legal restrictions women faced in Virginia, her status as a widow made her more vulnerable than she would have been if James were still alive. Unlike married women, who did not have a legal existence outside of their husband’s, widows at least had the right to act on their own behalf, but their position was still precarious. It was often safer for them to have a male relative represent their affairs.2 That said, it was not uncommon for a widow to be named as the executrix of her husband’s estate, to inherit his land, and to manage the family’s economic concerns. According to English law, widows were also guaranteed one-third of their husband’s estate until they died, even though the eldest son was supposed to inherit it. Virginia law technically followed this principle, but like all of the colonies, it developed its own inheritance traditions. As a result, it was much more common for land to be divided among children, and it was not unheard of for widows to receive all or most of the estate for the remainder of their lives. This circumstance was especially true when men died before their sons came of age. In fact, wives were named as the executrix of their husband’s estate in over 70 percent of wills in Lower Norfolk County.3 Because of these customs, Virginia widows were in a better position than their counterparts in New England. Like Virginia, it was not unusual for women there to inherit their husband’s estate; however, they could face acrimonious legal battles, with relatives contesting their right of inheritance. Sometimes these challenges came from their own children. While Virginia widows often confronted these difficulties as well, they were much more common and more bitter in New England.4

Even though it was not unusual for Virginia widows to inherit land, it was not easy for society to reconcile this reality with the prevailing cultural attitudes about women. A widow controlling her family’s financial matters, having authority over both free or unfree laborers, and petitioning the court on her own behalf directly challenged the perceived natural hierarchy thought to ensure a functioning society. Even more dangerously, these women lived on their own, suggesting the possibility of sexual impropriety, especially since it was assumed that women had less control over their amorous impulses than men. In fact, one of the most common tropes in English drama during this period was that of a powerful, bawdy, and promiscuous widow who enjoyed subverting cultural norms. Such women were simultaneously powerful and transgressive. More specifically, their power made them transgressive.5

Communities had ways to combat these transgressions. Wealthier widows often found their authority challenged by hired help and servants; and all landowning widows, regardless of their class, were more likely to have neighbors ignore their property rights. Widows across Europe, England, and its colonies were also much more likely to be taken to court as gossips, scolds, and witches.6 In Virginia, widows were frequently called to court for not attending church, obviously suggesting that they had a questionable moral character. Furthermore, starting in the 1680s, the colonial government and the county courts restricted the informal legal privileges widows enjoyed.7 In order to navigate these challenges, widows required help from their neighbors, depending on them to respect their property and their rights. Widows also relied on neighbors to pressure the rest of the community to do the same. As a result, widows had to engage in what historian Terri Snyder called a “nuanced choreography” where they exerted influence but did so in a way that appeared to respect social norms.8

Of course, the easiest way for a widow to protect her property and status was by remarrying. Because Virginia had such a dramatic gender imbalance during this period, with men always outnumbering women, it was almost unheard of for a widow to remain unmarried, especially if she was younger. The situation was different in New England, where the ratio of men to women was level by the 1690s, and poorer widows had trouble finding new husbands.9 While remarrying required a widow to surrender her legal and financial independence, it offered the protection of having a husband who could formally intervene on her behalf. It also brought greater economic security and inoculated the widow against the social stigma of being a single woman. Because of these benefits, women generally remarried quickly, and it is notable that Grace Sherwood did not do so. She was only in her late thirties or early forties when James died, and she owned a respectable amount of land. Nevertheless, she remained a widow for thirty-nine years, until her death in 1740. Today, it is commonly believed that she chose not to remarry so that she could manage her own affairs and control her own future. She enjoyed the independence that came from widowhood. While this might have been the case, it is also probable that her reputation made her prospects for remarriage dubious. The stigma she faced as a witch, compounded by the other challenges she and James had had over the previous decade, might have proved too much of a liability for potential suitors.

It is worth remembering that the couple did not prosper in the decades after John White’s death. To make matters even worse, James Sherwood died without a will, which meant that Grace had to petition the court to keep the property he inherited from her father. In a world where sudden deaths were an unavoidable part of life, the situation Sherwood found herself in was not unique. The court heard similar petitions during most sessions, and by all accounts, things went smoothly for her. She petitioned the court on September 1, 1701, James’s estate was appraised a week later, and the court granted her administration of it at the end of October.10 If the court followed English law, James’s property should have gone to his eldest son. The fact that it granted administrative rights to Grace suggests that he was still a minor. Even though matters seemed to be settled, Sherwood’s property reverted to the Crown in 1704.11 It is not clear why she lost the title to her land. Such transfers happened for a number of reasons, the most common being failing to pay property taxes. Despite this significant setback, there is nothing to suggest that Sherwood and her sons were ever forced to leave the property. Nevertheless, she was in an even more vulnerable position than before. Without clear ownership of her land, it could have been sold or given to someone else as a land grant at any point. Grace Sherwood was now a widow in dire economic straits without a clear claim to her farm and rumored to be a witch.

This was Grace Sherwood’s reputation in Princess Anne County when she returned to court on December 7, 1705. There she alleged that Elizabeth Hill had “assaulted, bruised, maimed, and barbarously beaten” her, and she was suing Hill and her husband, Luke, for £50 in damages.12 The Hills had moved to Princess Anne County in 1683, and over the course of the 1690s they bought and sold several tracts of land, including one that ran along Basnett’s Creek near the Sherwoods. The couple never owned more than a few hundred acres of land, which they primarily used to raise pigs. Except for a lawsuit that resulted from one of these land sales, the only interaction Luke Hill had with the court was appearing as a witness and two summonses for failing to work on the roads.13 Compared to many of their neighbors, the Hills lived a quiet life.

Court records do not explain what prompted Hill to attack Sherwood, though it was not unusual for verbal disputes to descend into physical fights. For this case, Sherwood did not bring witnesses to speak on her behalf, and unlike the Hills, she did not bring an attorney. Attorneys at this time were not formally trained lawyers but, rather, trusted friends or relatives who people felt could successfully navigate the legal process.14 They were not necessary for court proceedings, and most individuals represented themselves. In this matter, the Hills asked Richard Corbitt to serve as their attorney. Corbitt was a well-respected member of the community who was sheriff from 1700 to 1702 and continued as subsheriff through 1703. He had also been the county crier.15 These appointments meant that Corbitt was not only a member of the county elite, but that he was also intimately familiar with the court and had friendships with the county justices. In fact, Edward Moseley, one of the justices presiding over the trial, was reappointed to the court when Corbitt was named sheriff.16 Having Corbitt as their attorney was not enough for the Hills to prevail, however. The jury found in favor of Sherwood.

Since neither side brought witnesses, Sherwood very likely still had visible injuries from the altercation. These injuries were enough for Sherwood to finally win a lawsuit. The jury quickly undercut this victory by awarding Sherwood a paltry 20 shillings in damages, about $66 today.17 This amount was a far cry from the £50, or $7,300, she had asked for. As in modern civil cases when plaintiffs ask for large awards only to receive minimal compensation, it is probable that the jury felt that Sherwood’s injuries did not warrant such a steep judgment. Even at the time, it was not uncommon for juries to only impose nominal fines on defendants. These penalties were generally awarded for slander and defamation suits, however, not something as serious as a physical assault.18 Looking at the decision, one cannot ignore the possibility that the jury may have been sympathetic to the Hills but were unable to deny that Elizabeth Hill had in fact beaten Grace Sherwood.

By this point, each of the jurors would have been aware of what people were saying about Sherwood. Even if they did not believe she was a witch, they would have seen her as troublesome. This likelihood becomes even more convincing considering the fact that the jury foreman, Mark Powell, failed to sign the decision. Even though the court ordered Powell to return and correct his error, there is no evidence that he did.19 As a result, the verdict was never official, and Sherwood probably never received the negligible damages she was awarded. While it is possible that Powell made an honest mistake and forgot to sign the verdict, it is shocking that someone as experienced with the court’s business would make such an oversight. Powell was a wealthy landowner who was frequently in court. Not only did he appear on personal business, but he also testified several times as a witness, was the executor of a friend’s will, served as an attorney, was named to appraise estates, and functioned as a constable and county crier. He had even been the foreman of a grand jury in 1701.20 Moreover, Powell did not make this oversight on a similar assault case the jury heard the same day as Sherwood’s. By all accounts, that verdict was signed, and the plaintiff received his award.21 Mark Powell knew his duties as jury foreman, and it is not outlandish to think that his oversight was a way of signaling the jury’s contempt for Sherwood. This possibility becomes even more convincing considering that Mark Powell was on the jury during the Sherwoods’ previous lawsuits against the Gisburnes and Barneses.22

The indignity inflicted on Sherwood by the jury was nothing compared to the Hills’ response to the verdict. Within a month of the couple’s defeat in court, Luke Hill formally accused Grace Sherwood of witchcraft, prompting an official inquiry.23 Today, Luke Hill’s accusation is seen as an act of vengeance. It was a way of punishing Sherwood for suing him and his wife. While it is almost certain that the jury’s decision prompted Hill’s actions, it was more than a simple case of vengeance. Luke and Elizabeth Hill fervently believed that Sherwood had cursed Elizabeth. According to the folk wisdom of the time, striking a witch’s nose and mouth was the easiest ways to break a bewitchment. By making a witch bleed, the invisible demonic forces she unleashed would stop their assault and return to suckle her wounds.24 If Elizabeth Hill believed that Grace Sherwood had cursed her, that could explain why she physically attacked Sherwood. It would also explain why the Hills formally accused Sherwood of performing witchcraft almost as soon as the assault trial was over. They would have undoubtedly felt that Elizabeth’s actions were justified and wanted the court to acknowledge this fact.

When the Hills first brought their case against Sherwood on January 3, 1706, she did not appear in court. The sheriff was then ordered to ensure her appearance at the next court day.25 While it is tempting to see Sherwood’s failure to appear as a sign of defiance, it most likely had a more mundane explanation. Since the case was in January, bad weather and road conditions could have kept Sherwood away from court. In fact, she did not appear until March. In the meantime, the court began debating their course of action. While the records of their deliberations are sparse, it appears the justices were genuinely unsure how to proceed. Court transcripts state that the situation was “a long time debated,” and they probably hoped the matter would be resolved outside of court. Trying to encourage this course of action, they decided that Luke Hill would have to pay all court costs related to the matter—something typically done by whichever party lost the case. Despite this irregularity, Hill nevertheless agreed and demanded that the case move forward. His willingness to shoulder this financial burden only further suggests that this was not only a case of revenge. He and his wife legitimately believed Grace Sherwood was a witch. Once he agreed to the justices’ demand, the court ordered Sherwood to appear at the next session, where a jury of women would search her for witch’s marks.26

Figure 5. Depiction of witches with their familiars. (The Wonderful discoverie of the Witchcrafts of Margaret and Philippa Flower, 1619)

Searching a suspected witch for these marks, also referred to as devil’s marks or teats, was standard practice in witch trials throughout Europe and North America. According to conventional wisdom, when a witch signed a pact with the devil, she was branded with a mark. Her familiars, demonic helpers who often appeared in the form of animals, would then suckle from these teats. During trials in England and New England, searches for witch’s marks sometimes coincided with demands that witches reveal the names of their familiars and summon them.27 Even though identifying familiars was never a part of Virginia witch trials, at times searching for witch’s marks was the only action courts took when gathering evidence. While everyone agreed that witches had these marks, no one could really say what they looked like or where they were located on the body. From descriptions given during trials and in works written to guide courts, witch’s marks could be raised or sunken and could be large or small. They could hang loosely off the body or resemble a blemish or a birthmark. Whereas some marks seeped or bled, others were dry. They could also be blue, black, red, white, or another color. While the marks could be anywhere on the body, they were generally thought to be on the private parts of the witch, further reinforcing the idea that witches were sexual deviants.28 Because of this assumption, these searches required the suspected witch to stand naked before her searching jury. In English courts, these searches were always conducted by female juries, but they would have nevertheless been humiliating and degrading. Despite its name, the searching jury was not responsible for determining the guilt or innocence of a suspect. Only men could serve on juries that were empowered to render verdicts. The searching jury was solely responsible for determining if the suspect had witch’s marks on her body. If it was determined she did, that finding would then be used as evidence during the trial.

When the justices ordered Sherwood to be searched for these marks, they were not relying on superstition alone; they were following the course of action prescribed by Michael Dalton’s The Countrey Justice. First published in 1618, this book summarized English law and offered advice on how to interpret it. It quickly became the leading authority for justices and often directed the behavior of colonial courts.29 The Countrey Justice offered a succinct review of England’s witchcraft laws and provided specific methods for determining the guilt of suspects. In particular, Dalton recommended that the accused be searched for witch’s marks. He explained that witches have “some big or little teat upon their body, and in some secret place” and that these marks were “sometimes like a blue spot, or red spot, like a flea-biting, sometimes the flesh-sunk in, and hollow.”30 The presence of these spots was undeniable proof of guilt.

Using witch’s marks to condemn suspects has consistently been used by modern observers to highlight the irrationality of witch trials. After all, everyone had a scar, mole, birthmark, or other blemish that could be identified as one. Even contemporary skeptics made this argument. Thomas Brattle, a Massachusetts merchant reflecting on the searches performed on suspected witches in Salem, remarked, “I wonder what person there is, whether man or woman, of whom it cannot be said but that, in some part of the body or other, there is a preternatural excrescence.”31 A pamphlet written in 1720 by the English clergyman Francis Hutchinson made similar critiques. He argued that these supposed witch’s marks were nothing but “scurvy spots . . . or hollowed spaces betwixt the muscles”; they could also be nothing more than a wart or scar.32

People during this period realized that there were natural explanations for skin imperfections and that most people had them. Witch’s marks, however, were seen as unnatural spots different from the average mole or wart. The physician Richard Boulton explicitly made this point when he challenged Hutchinson’s skepticism. He argued that people could easily tell the difference between otherworldly witch’s marks and those that could be found on anyone.33 Despite Boulton’s confidence, judges often went to great pains to explain to juries that they should not identify “normal” marks. Judges also tried to pick older women and midwives to serve on searching juries, believing that they would understand what bodies looked like and would be able to identify something extraordinary.34

To provide even further confirmation that a suspect spot was a witch’s mark, it was also common for a member of the searching jury to prick it with a sharp pin or needle. According to Dalton, who was drawing from folk wisdom, witch’s marks lacked feeling.35 As a result, the witch would not feel a pinprick. These marks would also not bleed. If the suspect did not react when pierced and if the spot did not bleed afterward, the blemish was almost certain to be identified as a witch’s mark.36 Court records do not indicate if the justices ordered the jury to prick Grace Sherwood’s suspect blemishes, but it is a possibility. It was a common practice, and the justices were following the guidance of Dalton, who recommended it.

Today it is easy to recognize that even these “unnatural” marks were normal skin imperfections that could be found on anyone. It is clear that the searching juries, who often knew the accused, may have already believed she was guilty, and finding something that appeared abnormal simply confirmed this suspicion. In other words, under the right circumstances, anything could have been singled out as a mark. With this assumption, it is surprising that many searching juries reported that they found nothing out of the ordinary. This was the case when Alice Cartwright was tried in Lower Norfolk County in 1678. John Salmon accused her of bewitching and killing his child, and justices ordered that she be searched. The women concluded that there were “no suspicious marks whereby [we] can judge her to be a witch.” There was nothing on her except “what may and is usual on women.” She was then promptly acquitted.37 Unfortunately for Grace Sherwood, she was not one of these exceptions. When she was searched on March 7, 1706, the searching jury “after a mature consideration . . . found two things like teats with several other spots.”38

Sherwood might have suspected this outcome when she met her jurors. The forewoman was none other than Elizabeth Barnes, who had previously told people that Sherwood had ridden her like a horse and transformed into a cat.39 With the exception of Barnes, there is nothing notable about the other women on the jury. They were mostly middle-aged or older, and at least one of them, Mary Cotle, was an indentured servant.40 If the other jurors did not know Sherwood well, with Barnes as forewoman, her reputation would have preceded her. The court transcript even made sure to note that Sherwood had “been a long time suspected of witchcraft” before recording the jury’s finding.41

Even taking these suspicions into account, to modern eyes naming Elizabeth Barnes as forewoman appears to be an egregious injustice. The court was well aware of her previous conflict with Sherwood. In fact, Benoni Burroughs and Edward Moseley were justices during both trials.42 As if Barnes’s previous legal conflict with Sherwood were not troubling enough, the forewoman also had a decades-long friendship with Elizabeth Hill. In fact, Anthony and Elizabeth Barnes moved to Princess Anne County from Anne Arundel County, Maryland, with Elizabeth Hill and her family in 1683.43 Barnes could not be an impartial juror, leaving the question of why she was selected in the first place. It is possible the justices had few other options when they picked her. As Sherwood’s case progressed, it proved that finding a panel of women to conduct these searches was more challenging than one would assume. It is also probable that the justices did not see her presence on the jury as the conflict of interest we do today.

Regardless, the jury’s findings put Sherwood in serious jeopardy. The discovery of witch’s marks had been enough to condemn suspected witches in the past. After Sherwood was searched, however, the court did not take further action. Unlike William Harding, who was whipped and banished after his trial in the Northumberland County, Sherwood did not receive a punishment. The justices did not even render a verdict, which left the matter unresolved. There is also no indication from the records that they intended to do so on a future date. While they had to have discussed what their potential next steps were, they did not officially announce them. It is possible they were not sure how to proceed. Like all county justices, they were appointed by the governor based on their status in the community, and even though they took their role seriously, none of them had a legal background. Their primary concern was ensuring that the county remained orderly and that their position in its hierarchy remained intact.44 In order to compensate for their lack of legal training, they relied on written guides, like The Countrey Justice. In fact, the justices of Lower Norfolk County wrote to England in 1671 asking for law books, including Dalton’s work. These books were also commonly found in the libraries of Virginia elites.45 While guides explained the law, they did not compensate for a lack of formal training. They certainly did not help justices navigate unusual cases, like Sherwood’s.

Witch trials were so rare in Virginia that it is easy to understand why the justices did not know how to handle the matter. The last trial of this kind in the area was Alice Cartwright’s in 1679, and that ended with an acquittal. Four years earlier, William Carver, who served as a justice, sheriff, and burgess for the county, had formally accused Joan Jenkins of being “familiar with evil spirits and using witchcraft.” But she too was acquitted after her home was searched.46 There had never been a case in the region where the search of a suspected witch confirmed the allegations made against her. The precedent established by other county courts provided even less guidance. According to research conducted by Carson Hudson Jr., there were only three witch trials in Virginia that occurred outside of Princess Anne and Lower Norfolk Counties, and only two heard by the General Court. Of these cases, only William Harding’s in 1656 ended with a confirmed conviction.47 Because the General Court records were destroyed in the Civil War, there is no way of knowing the exact number of trials that took place, but surviving documents do not indicate there were many.

These handful of cases are dwarfed by the dozens of witch trials that occurred in New England during the seventeenth century. Between 1647 and 1663 in Connecticut alone, seventy-nine people were accused, thirty-three were tried, and fifteen were executed.48 The number of trials in Europe is even more staggering. In Bavaria, for example, 3,000 people were arrested and 900 executed between 1560 and 1730. Over three-quarters of these trials occurred between 1586 and 1631, a pattern consistent throughout the southwestern German states.49 Witch trials were also common in England and Scotland, but compared to their continental neighbors, the number of accused, convicted, and executed witches was much smaller.50

Even though Virginia avoided the witch hunts that were so pervasive elsewhere, that does not mean its inhabitants were more “rational” or less “superstitious.” The slander suits people filed to combat rumors that they were witches prove that Virginians held the same beliefs about witchcraft as did the rest of the European world.51 Lower Norfolk County’s court was so consumed with these suits that county officials took the unprecedented step of passing a law in 1655 that punished false allegations of witchcraft with a fine of 1,000 pounds of tobacco.52 As the allegations made against Alice Cartwright and Jonathan and Ann Byrd prove, this law did not stop people from accusing their neighbors of performing witchcraft. In fact, in July 1706, as Grace Sherwood was being ducked, Mary Rookes, who lived south of the Currituck Sound in North Carolina, was awarded damages when a neighbor called her a witch. Months later, in Princess Anne County, Alice Cornick sued Thomas Phillipp for the same slander. Phillipp publicly apologized and agreed to pay court costs.53 The frequency of these accusations means that Virginia’s lack of witch trials cannot be explained by assuming its people did not believe in the power of witchcraft. It can only be understood by looking at English law, the attitudes of colonial elites, and the way English and colonial courts conducted their trials.

In England, witchcraft was punished as a secular crime, not a religious one. This was not the case in the rest of Europe, where witchcraft was prosecuted as heresy, and church officials often worked with governments to investigate and try suspected witches.54 According to Christian doctrine during this period, all magic was evil, regardless of intent or purpose, because it had its roots in diabolical power. Witches not only posed a threat to the physical health and safety of the community, but they were also agents of Satan working to destroy the community of Christ.55 In the end, it was this fear that led religious and secular leaders to hunt witches with such vigor. They were less concerned about the more mundane threat to crops, livestock, and even human lives. Instead, they wanted to destroy what they considered to be a satanic conspiracy.56

This focus also helps to explain how individual accusations against suspected witches ballooned into panics that engulfed dozens of people. When suspects were interrogated, they were almost always asked to describe their interactions with devil and to name other witches.57 Fear of the devil among elites also explains why witch trials were so prevalent in New England. Founded by Puritans, these communities were established to create God’s “city on a hill,” a beacon of piety and righteousness.58 Leaders were eager to stamp out anything that might jeopardize the godliness of the community. They were also convinced that the devil was actively working to devastate their holy work. To prevent this destruction, New England governments passed a range of laws controlling the conduct and morality of their citizens, including severe laws against witchcraft. By the 1650s, performing witchcraft was a capital offense in every New England colony.59 Authorities in Virginia did not share this concern about satanic conspiracies. In fact, there are no references to the devil at all in the transcripts of Virginia witch trials. There was also never an attempt to use interrogations to discover the names of other witches. Justices only wanted to know what the suspected witch supposedly did with her powers. In this way, Virginia justices shared the same concerns as the average person. They were less worried about the diabolical origins of magic and feared what witches could do to them, their families, and their property.60

The attitude of Virginia justices was consistent with the English laws against witchcraft. These were the statutes that guided how the colony’s courts would prosecute suspected witches, since Virginia’s government never passed its own.61 Revised by James I in 1604, English law made it a felony to invoke spirits or to use witchcraft, enchantments, or sorcery to cause harm to others. Those guilty could lose their property and privileges or even face execution. English law also established a lesser infraction known as petite witchcraft for those convicted of using magic to harm property, find treasure, cast love spells, and the like. Those guilty of petite witchcraft would be imprisoned for a year and be put into the pillory for six hours every quarter. If the offender committed the crime again, she would be executed.62 These different classifications were especially important in Virginia because of the way its courts were structured. Petite witchcraft, as a misdemeanor crime, fell under the jurisdiction of the county courts. Cases of felonious witchcraft would have been referred to the General Court in the capital, which tried all felonies and cases that threatened the “life and limb” of the accused.63

Based on surviving records, it is unclear which classification was used to prosecute Sherwood. One of the most frustrating aspects of the trial transcripts is that they do not reveal what Grace Sherwood was specifically charged with doing. They only state that she was accused of bewitching Elizabeth Hill.64 Considering the expansive abilities witches were thought to have, this bewitchment could be something as minor as manifesting bad luck or something as severe as creating a deadly illness. Today, it is commonly accepted that Hill accused Sherwood of causing a miscarriage; however, there is nothing in the records to confirm this assertion. One would assume that when the justices interrogated the Hills, the couple would have revealed the nature of Elizabeth’s supposed bewitchment. This fact only makes the vague language of the transcripts more maddening. Without knowing what Sherwood was accused of doing, there is no way to know with any certainty if the case was serious enough to be referred to the General Court in Williamsburg. The only thing that is clear is that the justices did not attempt to do so after the searching jury discovered marks on Sherwood. In fact, they did not do anything at all.

The court’s inaction frustrated Luke Hill, who took the bold step of petitioning the governor’s council in March 1706. In his petition, he again accused Sherwood, saying she had been “suspected of witchcraft” and “had bewitched” his wife. More importantly, he complained the county court did not know “how to proceed to judgement” even though it searched Sherwood and found marks. Since it would not move forward with the matter, he asked that Sherwood be prosecuted in the General Court.65 Rather than respond directly, the council sent the petition to Virginia’s attorney general, one of the few officials in Virginia with formal legal training, asking him to give his opinion on the matter. A month later, he told the council that he found “the charge or accusation [to be] too general.” He then recommended that the county court “make a further examination of the matters of fact” and pursue the case to the full extent of their authority. If their investigation found “sufficient cause” to have Sherwood tried in Williamsburg, they should then refer it to the General Court. Based on that referral, he would then prepare an indictment for a grand jury, which could then decide if the matter warranted prosecution.66

Hill’s petition and this brief report by the attorney general fill in many of the gaps left by the county court records. Once again, however, Sherwood is only vaguely accused of bewitching Elizabeth Hill. It is curious that the Hills were so determined to have Sherwood prosecuted but never leveled specific charges. While it is possible that the initial court records did not record the details of Hill’s supposed bewitchment, it is unlikely that both the county clerk and the minutes from the governor’s council would be equally vague. It is probable that Luke Hill’s petition simply did not provide a specific explanation of what Sherwood supposedly did. The attorney general’s opinion only strengthens this conclusion. It directly asks for a specific charge, according to the statutes. If Sherwood was not accused of felonious witchcraft, the matter should not be referred to the General Court. Even if she was, the attorney general’s report reiterates the appropriate procedures to be followed before a trial could take place. The county court first needed to gather sufficient evidence, which would then be presented to the grand jury for an indictment in Williamsburg. By saying the existing evidence was too general, the attorney general was suggesting that discovering suspicious marks was not sufficient to warrant further action.

The issue of evidence had always bedeviled witch trials, regardless of when and where they occurred. Most European courts, England included, required at least two eyewitnesses to convict people of a capital crime.67 Cases based solely on circumstantial and corroborating evidence resulted in acquittals or in lesser punishments. For obvious reasons, eyewitness testimony confirming that a witch performed magic was almost impossible to find. Witnesses could only recall things the accused had said or describe her reputation, and this was not enough. Dalton acknowledged this problem when he explained that a witch’s “works are the works of darkness, and no witnesses present with them to accuse them.”68 Finding witch’s marks and searching the accused’s house for dolls and other nefarious implements could strengthen a case, but juries generally wanted more. Even in places prone to witch hunts, like New England, juries often rejected dubious and circumstantial evidence and demanded more proof.69

Usually, they wanted a confession. Without eyewitness testimony, confessions were the easiest way to condemn the accused. As a result, judges often tried to extract them. In continental Europe, these declarations were commonly obtained through torture. For the most part, torture was not permitted during interrogations in England, making confessions rarer. This fact helps to explain why England had fewer executions for witchcraft and was less prone to widespread witch hunts.70 During periods of witch hysterias in New England, for example, zealous Puritan judges relied on coercion and psychological torments to break the accused. This could include interrogations that lasted hours on end, sleep deprivation, starvation, and, in extreme cases, the use of physical violence.71 New England justices would also sometimes rely on dubious proof to condemn the accused. The most extreme example of this tendency was the use of spectral evidence during the Salem witch trials. In these cases, alleged victims fell into fits and convulsions, claiming that they were being mystically assaulted by the accused. These allegations were impossible to prove but were still enough to secure guilty verdicts in many cases, especially if there was corroborating evidence.72

Following the Salem trials in 1692, almost everyone realized that an injustice had occurred. Even those who passionately believed in the power of witchcraft were forced to acknowledge that innocent people had been charged and executed.73 In its aftermath, a new Massachusetts law prohibited the use of the death penalty in witchcraft cases, and countless pamphlets and books were written questioning many long-held beliefs about witches and witchcraft.74 These new debates only built on long-standing skepticism that permeated educated debate in England for centuries. While few scholars rejected belief in witchcraft outright, skeptics argued that its power was overstated and that all too often innocent people were condemned during trials.75

Virginia’s lieutenant governor, who administered the colony on behalf of its absentee governor, and the members of the governor’s council, all of whom sat on the General Court, would have been aware of these debates. They also would have known about the carnage that had gripped Salem fourteen years earlier. Virginia was widely connected to the rest of the English-speaking world, and merchants from Salem traded in the colony.76 Concerns about the validity of the accusations against Sherwood had to have weighed on the minds of Virginia’s leaders. Those same concerns were likely on the minds of the Princess Anne County justices as well, who had to balance these worries alongside the need to maintain peace within the county. They also had to address the attorney general’s request to take more action. On May 2, 1706, they attempted to find more evidence. Turning once again to The Countrey Justice, they ordered the sheriff to search Sherwood’s house and “all suspicious places carefully for all images and such things” that might “strengthen the suspicion.”77 They also requested that the sheriff empanel another jury of women to search Sherwood and that she be taken into custody until she gave a sufficient bond.

The search of Sherwood’s home did not reveal anything suspicious, and the court’s efforts were further frustrated when the jury of women failed to appear when court resumed in June. Even though the reason these women did not respond to their summons is unknown, two contradictory explanations are usually given. The first is that they were afraid of Grace Sherwood’s powers and did not want to make her angry. The other is that they did not believe the allegations against her and did not want to assist in the trial. Both are equally possible. Despite this setback, the court continued to move forward and named Maximilian Boush, one of the county’s leading figures, to prosecute the case.78

It is unclear what evidence Boush could use for his case. There is nothing to indicate the court found anything new. Instead, they continued to follow Dalton’s guidance and relied on searches. Hoping to find another jury of women, the matter was delayed until July. Once again, the jury failed to appear. At this point, desperate to settle the matter, the justices arrived at an unorthodox solution: trial by water. This test was based on the ancient belief that witches, tainted by evil, would be rejected by anything holy or pure.79 Accordingly, if an accused witch was put into water, a pure element, she would not just float, but she would do so unnaturally. In the Middle Ages, it was used to determine guilt for a variety of crimes, including theft, murder, and adultery. These crimes generally had few witnesses and without the tools used in modern criminal investigations, authorities relied on metaphysical and religious beliefs to determine the guilt of suspects. King Henry III technically abolished the practice in 1219, but belief in its validity remained strong, even among English elites. James I, for example, accept the theory behind ducking, explaining that it was a physical manifestation of the fact that witches rejected their baptism.80

Figure 6. Depiction of a trial by water. (Sixteenth-century woodcut)

Despite its name, by the eighteenth century a trial by water was not actually a trial. It was a test that was used as evidence, and it was never the only proof used to condemn the accused. Instead, it was a way to bolster existing findings or to encourage a confession. It was also used by vigilante mobs, who would subject suspected witches to the ordeal when authorities did not take the matter seriously.81 In a trial by water, the accused was always tied. Sometimes she would be submerged with only her hands bound, though she could also be doubled over with her hands tied to her feet. Many were cross-bound, with their right hand tied to their left foot and their left hand tied to their right foot. Some women were stripped to their undergarments, though they could also be submerged fully clothed.82 Court documents do not explain how Sherwood was tied, only that she was to be bound before her ducking. Depending on the location of the test, the accused could be ducked on the water’s edge or rowed to a deeper spot and thrown overboard. In Sherwood’s case, court records specifically instructed the sheriff to use a boat to take Sherwood where she could be put in the water “above man’s depth.”83

Contrary to popular imagination, the goal of this test was not to set up an unwinnable Catch-22 where the guilty floated only to be executed while the innocent died anyway. Instead, ropes were almost always tied around the accused so she could be pulled out of the water before she drowned. This precaution did not always guarantee the accused survived, and drowning was always a possibility, especially if the ducking was performed by a mob that took fewer precautions than court officials.84 Nevertheless, no one was supposed to die during the ordeal. In fact, when Sherwood was ducked, Princess Anne County justices ordered the sheriff to “preserve her from drowning.”85

Even though ducking was commonly used against suspected witches, it was nevertheless a controversial test. Skeptics, like Francis Hutchinson, rejected it as nothing more than a superstition passed down by “old heathen idolaters.”86 He explained that there was nothing mystical about why some people floated while others sank. Some might float simply by virtue of the way they were built. Those holding the ropes might pull on them too tightly, preventing the accused from sinking, while other suspects might have simply been put in the water in a position that made them bob.87 In 1662, a bystander at the ducking of Rebecca Greensmith in Connecticut made similar arguments to the crowd that gathered to watch. He even went so far as to offer to be ducked himself to prove its questionable value.88 Even those who passionately believed in the power of witchcraft nevertheless argued against ducking. Increase Mather and his son, Cotton Mather, Puritan ministers in Massachusetts who wrote some of the most well-known works condemning witchcraft, both considered the test to be too suspect to be useful. After describing a ducking that occurred in Hartford, Increase Mather condemned the action as a “superstitious experiment” that was “never appointed by any lawful authority, but from the suggestion of the devil taken up by the rude rabble.”89 Ultimately, it was too arbitrary and too unpredictable to be a valuable tool for finding witches.

In the eyes of many English jurists, ducking became especially suspect after the career of Matthew Hopkins, the self-proclaimed “Witchfinder General.” Hopkins, the son of a Puritan minister, began his work at the height of the English Civil War in the 1640s. Convinced he had a divine calling, he and his supporters initiated the most intense witch hunt in English history. Exploiting the breakdown of authority created by the Civil War, he traveled the countryside of East Anglia subjecting suspected witches to a range of torments. He was especially fond of trials by water. Circumventing English law, he ducked hundreds of women, many of whom drowned, before he died in 1647. Even though his writings on witchcraft were influential in Puritan circles, his actions as “Witchfinder General” only bolstered complaints from skeptics who saw him as nothing more than a fanatic responsible for the persecution of innocent people.90

Considering how controversial ducking was, the fact that the Princess Anne County justices resorted to this test is a sign of either exasperation, desperation, or both. In their own words they were willing to try “all means possible . . . either to acquit [Sherwood] or to give more strength to the suspicions” against her.91 Court records were also clear to point out that Sherwood consented to the test, though it is unclear how able she was to refuse the suggestion. They also took the seemingly ridiculous step of postponing her original ducking on July 5 because the weather was “very rainy and bad,” which “might endanger her health.”92 (A cynical reader might assume they were more worried about themselves.) Rather than take this risk, the court pushed the trial by water to July 10.

On that day, Sherwood was taken to the banks of the Lynnhaven River, which, despite its name, is a brackish estuary opening into the Chesapeake Bay. At its mouth, the river almost immediately splits into two branches with inlets that snake through the landscape. The river’s depth is variable, from a few feet to a few dozen, and in 1706, the banks of these inlets were lined by a narrow strip of rocky sand punctuated by marsh grasses. At the time the Lynnhaven River was also teeming with waterfowl, crabs, fish, and the oysters that made it famous until overharvesting and pollution devastated its ecosystem in the twentieth century.93 Unfortunately for Sherwood, in July it would also be filled with less savory water life, including jellyfish and leeches. Prior to her ducking, which took place less than a mile or two from the county courthouse, Sherwood was searched “by some women” to make sure she had “nothing about her to cause any further suspicion.”94 Once it was certain she did not have anything on her that could cast doubt on the validity of the test, she was bound and ducked. The court records do not provide a detailed description of what followed, only that she was found by “the judgement of all the spectators” to have swum “contrary to custom,” despite being bound.95 Sherwood had failed her trial by water.

Part II

Legends Take Shape

4

Rediscovering Witchduck’s Witch

At some point as Grace Sherwood bobbed and flailed in the water, observers determined that she would not sink and would continue to float “contrary to custom.” The sheriff then pulled her to the boat and rowed her back to the banks of the Lynnhaven River. There she was met by five “ancient women,” who searched her again for witch’s marks. This new jury confirmed the findings of the earlier group led by Elizabeth Barnes, swearing that Sherwood was “not like them nor any other woman that they know of, having two things like teats on her private parts of a black color being blacker than the rest of her body.”1 This discovery, along with the result of the trial by water, was enough evidence to prevent Sherwood’s immediate acquittal. The justices ordered that she be secured in irons and taken to the county jail to await future trial. No one will ever know if that trial took place. The only thing that is certain is that another trial never took place in Princess Anne County. Its court records do not mention any other proceedings related to the matter. This fact suggests that the justices referred the case to the General Court in Williamsburg. Such a referral would have been the normal course of action if the accusations against Sherwood were serious enough to constitute a felony. Even if they were not, considering how unprecedented Sherwood’s case was, it is also possible that the county justices wanted the General Court to have the final say on the matter. Frustratingly, the General Court’s records were destroyed during the Civil War so there is no way of knowing if the county justices made this referral or how the court responded if they did.

Considering the attorney general’s initial response to Luke Hill, it is very likely that Sherwood was never tried in Williamsburg. He made clear that he wanted more evidence from the county court before he would consider prosecuting her. The subsequent actions by Princess Anne County justices did not do much to satisfy this request. The only new information they could provide was that a second search confirmed the presence of witch’s marks and that Sherwood floated when put in water. This was hardly damning evidence that conclusively proved her guilt. Given the hesitancy of Virginia’s courts to try suspected witches, it is almost certain the General Court would not have found the case against Sherwood to be compelling. This suspicion becomes even stronger considering the legacy of the Salem trials and their overreliance on dubious evidence to convict many of the accused. There is no record of Virginia convicting a witch since William Harding in 1656, and that occurred at the county level.2 In 1706, the General Court would not have wanted the stigma of condemning a potentially innocent woman based on something as controversial as a ducking.

There are more circumstantial details to suggest that Sherwood was not tried by the General Court. For these trials to take place, the county court had to send the suspect to Williamsburg, along with the necessary witnesses and six jurors who would sit alongside those picked by the court. If the suspect was convicted, the county was required to pay for the travel and lodging of these individuals. If the suspect was acquitted, he or she paid the costs. In circumstances where someone was unable to do so, the county court and the colonial government shared these costs.3 There is nothing in Princess Anne County’s court records showing that they paid for trial expenses, meaning that it is almost certain that Sherwood was not convicted by the General Court. Considering her precarious financial status, she would have needed assistance paying these fees if she was acquitted. The fact that this matter is not discussed in the county court records indicates that she was not tried in Williamsburg.

Moreover, the officers of this court included the governor as well as members of his council, men with social connections throughout England’s colonies and to England itself. They regularly corresponded with these contacts, and even though the General Court’s records are gone, there is a wealth of letters and other documents from these officials. There is nothing in these papers indicating that the court took any action. Considering how exceptional a witch trial would have been for the General Court, it is safe to assume someone would have mentioned it when writing to a friend, family member, or business colleague. The fact that they did not further suggests the court never dealt with the matter. If the Princess Anne County court referred the case to the General Court, it is likely that it was either dismissed outright or that the grand jury declined to indict Sherwood.

For those in Princess Anne County who demanded action, Grace Sherwood’s ducking was probably enough to settle the matter. The Hills would have felt its outcome vindicated their suspicions, and the county justices probably considered it enough of a punishment to ensure that Sherwood would not be a problem in the future. It is worth remembering that ducking was also used to humiliate and punish women who caused trouble in their community.4 Even if the justices did not believe Grace Sherwood was a witch, she was disruptive to public order. Her ducking would have signaled this fact. After her ducking, Sherwood was sent to the county jail, but she would have only been there until the General Court decided whether to try her or while the county justices determined their next steps. Today, it is commonly accepted as fact that Sherwood spent several years in prison before returning home. This claim is largely based on a land grant from 1715 that restored Sherwood’s property rights in exchange for two pounds of tobacco per acre. From this document, many assume that Sherwood was in jail for the nine years between her ducking and this grant. This was not the case. According to law, the most severe penalty someone could receive for petite witchcraft was a year in jail. Additionally, when William Harding was convicted, he was whipped and banished, not imprisoned. This was not a time when courts sentenced people to long prison sentences; they preferred more immediate punishments. Furthermore, Sherwood’s land grant was not related to her legal troubles. She had not had a title to her property since it reverted to the Crown after her husband’s death, likely for not paying taxes. The grant from 1715 simply restored her right to her land for a fee that would have compensated for those unpaid taxes.

Surviving records from the county court offer additional proof that Grace Sherwood was not imprisoned after her ducking. She was back in front of the justices in April 1708, this time for the mundane matter of not paying a debt owed to Christopher Cocke. Once she confirmed the amount she had borrowed, the court ordered her to repay him.5 Edward Moseley also sued her over debts in March 1711. When she did not appear in court, the sheriff was ordered to secure her presence at the next session.6 In both of these cases, nothing indicates that she was still serving a sentence related to her trial for witchcraft. She was obviously not in jail in 1711 since the sheriff had to summon her to court. If she was imprisoned, the court could have ensured she appeared in March. At most, Sherwood was in jail a few months, and once it was clear there were not going to be additional proceedings, she was released and returned to her farm. Once there, she lived a quiet life. There were no further slander and defamation suits between her and her neighbors, and there were no other accusations related to witchcraft. Although the Hills and others may have continued to view her with suspicion, no one made a formal complaint against her.

Sherwood returned to her farm a free woman, but she did not thrive in the decades after her trial. Even though she managed to regain the title to her land and stabilize her economic position, she did not expand her landholdings. She also continued to rely on loans to help her make ends meet and had trouble repaying them. In addition to being sued by Christopher Cocke and Edward Moseley, she was brought to court in 1715, 1718, 1725, and 1728 for not paying debts.7 For these loans, she mostly turned to county elites, especially the Moseley family. They lent money to her sons as well.8 Having never remarried, Sherwood relied on her sons, especially James and John, to help her maintain her farm. When James Sherwood Jr. was sued over debts in 1712, the court indicated that he had taken the loan on behalf of his mother.9 As an adult, James managed to reclaim a degree of respectability for his family. In 1726 he received a token inheritance from Thomas Turton, and a year later he successfully petitioned the court for money he was owed from the estate of Michael Eaton.10 Even if the family did not prosper, it does not appear as though the Sherwoods suffered from any lingering stigma connected to Grace’s ducking.

Life returned to normal for Sherwood’s accusers as well. Ironically, Elizabeth Hill found herself in a similar position to Grace Sherwood when Luke Hill died without a will in 1716.11 Like Sherwood, Elizabeth Hill had to petition the court to appraise her late husband’s estate and to receive the rights to his land. When Luke Hill died, he left Elizabeth owing several debts, one of which was not resolved until 1721.12 No sooner had Hill settled issues related to her husband’s estate than she had to return to court to prove she was her father’s daughter. When doing so, she called on her old friends Anthony and Elizabeth Barnes to confirm that they had come to Princess Anne County with Hill and her family in 1683.13 John Gisburne died in 1719, dividing his estate among his three sons; Richard Capps witnessed the will.14 At first, things went well for Gisburne’s oldest son, John. He expanded the family’s landholdings and maintained its status in the community by witnessing contracts and wills for his neighbors. This prosperity did not last long, however. John Gisburne Jr. experienced a dramatic decline in fortune and died so in debt that his estate was sold at court order to repay what he owed.15

Richard Capps died in 1720, a year after Gisburne, and his will also divided his land among two of his sons. As further proof of the close ties between the Cappses and the Gisburnes, John Gisburne’s son, Edward, witnessed Capps’s will.16 In it, Capps did not leave any property to his son Richard, who appears to have been the black sheep of the family. In the years before his father’s death, Richard was in court several times for not paying debts and for not attending church. By 1728, Richard Capps Jr. was so impoverished that he asked for poor relief from the parish.17 In a quirk of fate, that same year, he was called to court the same day as Grace Sherwood. In what would be her final encounter with the justices, she was scheduled to appear with the son of her first nemesis. Even though the records do not explain why they were summoned, it was almost certainly related to debts. The court unsuccessfully tried to get both to appear for over a year. By this point Capps was infirm, and Grace Sherwood was in her late sixties. Neither was in the physical condition to make the long journey to the courthouse. In April 1728, the court finally dismissed the suits against them, acknowledging that they were unable to “go from their home” due to “sickness and age.”18

Grace Sherwood lived another twelve years, dying in 1740. By all accounts she managed to outlive all of her accusers. The last, Anthony Barnes, died in 1736 at the age of ninety.19 In her will, she left her son John 144 acres of land along with her possessions and named him her executor. Since there is nothing to suggest Sherwood sold the other 51 acres of her plot, she likely had already given that property to her eldest son, James, who received five shillings from the will. Her youngest son, Richard, also received five shillings.20 Even though she would not have known it living on her remote Virginia farm, Sherwood lived long enough to see English attitudes toward the prosecution of witches change dramatically. Influenced by the rationalist principles that drove the Scientific Revolution and the Enlightenment, many elites began to question the existence of witchcraft in the decades between Sherwood’s ducking and her death. These doubts only compounded their concerns about the injustice of witch trials.

In New England, debates about the prosecution of suspected witches began at the end of the Salem hysteria in 1692. One of the most famous denunciations of these events, Robert Calef’s More Wonders of the Invisible World, published in 1700, definitively states that “no sober man, much less a Reverend Christian” could believe in the power of witches. According to Calef, the hysteria that provoked witch hunts was nothing more than a “catching disease” that preyed on fear and superstition.21 Even though many Puritan leaders still defended witch hunts in principle, educated opinions were changing. There would be no further trials in the region. While attitudes may have shifted, for some, the debate was far from settled. The same year Sherwood was ducked, the governor of South Carolina passionately implored the colony’s grand jury to take the charge of witchcraft more seriously. In 1730, an indentured servant was publicly whipped in Richmond County for fortune-telling; and six years later, George Webb, a Virginia preacher, chastised magistrates for failing to prosecute people who used witchcraft.22 Few took these calls to heart; witch hunts were ending throughout the Atlantic world. The last trial in England occurred in 1712; the last one in Scotland took place a decade later.23 The English Parliament formally decriminalized witchcraft in 1736, an act that also applied to its colonies (even though it was no longer prosecuted, practicing witchcraft technically remained a crime in the United Kingdom until the 1950s).24 When the United States obtained its independence, state governments repealed laws against witchcraft throughout the new country.

Despite these changes, popular belief in witchcraft persisted. In 1737, only a year after England formally stopped prosecuting suspected witches, a sixty-year-old woman was ducked three times by a mob eager to prove her guilt. This act of mob violence paled in comparison to events in Hungary, where twenty-one people were ducked in the 1720s, with three drowning. In the United States, vigilante violence against accused witches persisted until the 1790s.25 Without an official means to punish suspects, mobs were more than content to mete out their own justice. Such violence would taper off by the nineteenth century, but popular belief in witchcraft continued, especially in rural areas. Folklorists were able to collect firsthand accounts of stories about witches as late as the 1920s.

The persistence of mob violence only reinforced the certainty among educated Europeans and Americans that belief in witchcraft was a symptom of ignorance and superstition. They expressed these opinions in books and pamphlets about the history of witch trials written in the eighteenth century. Since these authors were writing long after courts stopped prosecuting suspected witches, they were not drawing from firsthand experience of recent events as Robert Calef had done. They were also not basing their conclusions on evidence from trial records or colonial documents. Instead, their views were shaped by the prevailing attitudes of the time and by what had been written in previous generations. As a result, the first books about the history of North American witch trials focused on events in New England, especially Salem. The accused witches from other regions slipped into obscurity.26 Some, like Grace Sherwood, became part of local folklore as their stories drifted from reality into legend, but these legends did not make their way into written histories.

Unaware of the witch trials that took place outside of places like Salem, authors began to see these proceedings as a unique dysfunction of Puritan communities. They also savagely condemned everyone involved in the prosecution of suspects. Books portrayed the accusers as nefarious frauds who faked their supposed bewitchments and denounced the trial judges as overzealous fanatics.27 This perspective is best reflected in John Oldmixon’s The British Empire in America, published in 1741. It states that the evidence used to condemn Salem’s witches was “so trifling and silly, as well as incredible, that they are a disgrace to common sense.”28 Daniel Defoe offers a similar condemnation in The Political History of the Devil when he writes that “the people of Salem in New England pretended to be bewitched” and wryly jokes that the testimonies of the afflicted were so foolish not even the devil would “vouch for them.”29 The views of writers like Oldmixon and Defoe were reinforced time and time again, and by the nineteenth century, almost everyone writing about witch trials concluded that they were a shameful episode from an unenlightened past. Desperate to distance himself from the role his ancestor’s played in the Salem witch craze, the preeminent author Nathaniel Hawthorne even went so far as to change the spelling of his last name.30

The larger history of North American witch trials only became well known once history emerged as a professional discipline and historical societies began collecting and organizing colonial records. As historians combed through these materials, they found evidence that proved these trials were not solely a New England phenomenon. For those interested in understanding the past, these discoveries not only gave new insight into colonial life, but they also illustrated the value of historical research. They also compelled researchers to continue their efforts to preserve colonial records. Worried that the “primitive” way these documents were stored made them vulnerable to destruction, scholars began to establish a more systematic way to preserve materials that were scattered throughout libraries, government offices, and private homes.31 Doing so meant that future generations would have access their past. In the minds of the founding members of the New Jersey Historical Society, established in 1845, this desire was an “honorable instinct” shared by all civilizations. It “prompts men to perpetuate the memory of their forefathers, and to preserve from the decay which overtakes all physical nature, those acts and counsels, which, springing from and informed by the soul, are, like it, capable of immortality.”32

In defining its mission, the New Jersey Historical Society was consciously emulating similar organizations in states like Virginia that were already engaged in this important work. The Virginia Historical Society was created in 1831, and, reflecting the self-styled cavalier tradition prevalent among educated Virginians at the time, its members saw themselves as following in the footsteps of the English royal societies that were established during the reign of Charles II. Once the society was created, its members began collecting and publishing documents related to the colonial period. They also began writing biographies of notable early Virginians.33 While engaged in this work, the society’s president, Jonathan Cushing, stumbled across information about Grace Sherwood’s ducking and became responsible for making her one of the most famous witches in American history. While he was visiting Gloucester County in the spring of 1832, Cushing met with his friend Archibald Taylor. As the two talked, Taylor mentioned that he had a “curious document”—a handwritten transcription of Grace Sherwood’s trial for witchcraft in Princess Anne County. Cushing asked Taylor to send it to him so it could be stored at the Historical Society and published. Taylor did so the following October. Both immediately understood the importance of the document, which “prove[d] that the belief in witchcraft was not confined to New England.” Moreover, it shed “some light on the state of society which existed in Virginia at the period the transaction occurred.”34 It was published by the society in 1833 and offered modern audiences the first glimpse of Grace Sherwood’s trial. It remains one of the most widely published versions of her ducking.35

The transcript begins on January 3, 1706, with Luke Hill’s initial complaint to the county court, and it includes all the subsequent trial records about the case, culminating in Sherwood’s ducking.36 Even though it collects everything related to Sherwood’s trial for performing witchcraft, it is missing vital information. It does not include anything related to her earlier slander suits, and it does not have Hill’s petition to Virginia’s attorney general. It also does not include any wills, deeds, or land grants, meaning it does not provide readers with any background information about Sherwood or her accusers. Taylor acknowledged that his copy was missing important details that would offer a more complete picture of the matter. In particular, he noted that the transcript does not explain what happened after Sherwood’s ducking and suggested that members of the historical society should look through the records of the General Court for more information.37 He made this recommendation decades before those records were destroyed, and the fact that no one uncovered anything further suggests that Sherwood was never tried in Williamsburg.

The transcription Taylor sent to the Virginia Historical Society was made by John Burroughs, Princess Anne County’s longtime court clerk.38 Although Burroughs may not have been a professional historian, he was committed to preserving the county’s history. Renowned for his impeccable penmanship, he painstakingly transcribed many of the county court’s earliest records, ensuring their survival. Burroughs was so committed to preserving these documents that he took them from the courthouse during the Civil War, fearful they might be damaged during the conflict. When he was removed from his post by Virginia’s military governor during Reconstruction, he even requested that his replacement provide a receipt for each document to ensure that the records remained complete. In 1947, the county installed a portrait of him in its courthouse in recognition of his service, and copies of his transcriptions are still available in Virginia Beach’s Meyera E. Oberndorf Central Library.39

Figure 7. Cover page for the Virginia Historical Society’s printing of John Burroughs’s transcript of Grace Sherwood’s trial records. (Collections of the Virginia Historical and Philosophical Society, 1833)

A brief contextual note Burroughs included in his copy of Sherwood’s trial records makes clear that his interest in preserving the region’s history motivated his work. When describing the location of the county courthouse in the seventeenth century, Burroughs explains that it stood “about one mile away from witch duck.”40 For him, this reference was self-explanatory. Sherwood’s trial was such a bizarre event that it left an immediate impact on the region—the area she was ducked had been called Witchduck ever since. A native of Princess Anne County would have known, without question, where this area was and would not have felt the need to offer further explanation. Burroughs would also have known the stories locals shared about Sherwood and would have recognized the significance of her trial records when he came across them. In fact, legends about Sherwood may have led him to look for those documents in the first place. By collecting and transcribing them, he confirmed what had only been part of the region’s folklore up until that point. After all, without access to historical records, stories passed down from earlier generations were the only window into those strange events. Burroughs had rediscovered Witchduck’s witch.

When the Virginia Historical Society published Burroughs’s transcript, Grace Sherwood’s trial was treated like a bizarre singularity, an instance when New England superstitions broke through in Virginia. Joan Wright, Jonathan and Ann Byrd, and Virginia’s other accused witches never became part of local folklore the way Sherwood did, which meant there were no local legends to point curious historians toward their cases. Those documents remained buried in the stacks of unexamined colonial records, and no one knew the trials happened. As a result, Grace Sherwood was not just Virginia’s most famous witch; she was Virginia’s only witch. This attitude prevailed when the transcript received a brief mention in an 1834 article that appeared in the People’s Magazine. While discussing recently discovered records of witch trials that occurred in Philadelphia, the author connected these cases with Sherwood’s ducking and two trials that occurred in New York. Each of these cases proved that “New England in her early days, was not alone, it seems, in her credulity.”41 Belief in witchcraft was universal throughout the English colonies, and it was only stamped out through the march of progress.

A year later, when it reprinted Burroughs’s transcript for its readers, the Western Monthly Magazine reiterated the notion that Sherwood was the only Virginia woman prosecuted for witchcraft. In a preface, a staff writer marvels that the “ignorance” that led to Sherwood’s trial could prevail even “after Locke, Newton, and Tillotson, had written some of their great works.”42 As with the People’s Magazine, this preface reminds readers that belief in witchcraft was universal. For proof it mentions several cases that occurred in England after Sherwood was ducked. Both of these articles were written for popular magazines, and their large, nationwide readerships helped spread Sherwood’s story beyond Virginia. With this success, many writers quickly realized the uniqueness of the case made it a tantalizing way to demonstrate the value of studying history.

The appeal of Virginia’s “only” witch was obvious to the Southern Literary Messenger, Virginia’s preeminent literary magazine, when it included a summary of Sherwood’s trial as part of a larger discussion about Virginia history. Hoping to encourage readers to learn more about the commonwealth’s past, it included this summary alongside discussions of the Powhatan Indians, the life of the early settlers, and the importance of historical records.43 William Forrest had a similar goal in mind when he wrote a series of “historical sketches” about Tidewater Virginia. He hoped his book would lead to an “awakening” among residents and would encourage them to preserve the county’s colonial heritage. Forrest wrote his vignettes in a flowery style that is best illustrated by his claim that the Chesapeake Bay was so beautiful that it had “no equal, not even in that of Naples.”44 Alongside romantic descriptions of forgotten churches and graveyards, he mentions the origins of Witchduck, “the name generally applied to a beautiful country seat on Lynnhaven River.”45 With a melodramatic flair, he tells the story of “poor Grace,” who found herself “sufficiently tormented by legal indictments, and a long and tedious course of law.” Even though he does nothing more than summarize Burroughs’s transcript, Forrest tantalizes readers by claiming that he found it necessary to withhold details “unfit for the eye of the refined reader.” He then drolly concludes that the matter “was certainly a very grace-less affair for the eighteenth century.”46

Even though many authors hoped the allure of Sherwood’s trial would encourage more support for historical research, no one did much to uncover anything new about the case itself. Most writers were content to use the handful of records Burroughs had found and extrapolate conclusions from them. As a result, early narratives of Sherwood’s ducking tell us more about the time in which they were written than they do about the event itself. This situation was not unique to Sherwood’s case. As the historian Wolfgang Behringer has observed, writing about witch trials has almost always been a situation where the present was served “at the expense of the past.”47 Researchers did not begin seriously studying the social, political, and cultural factors that motivated witch trials until the 1970s. Before that, these events were generally used to reflect contemporary anxieties. For those writing in the 1830s and 1840s, witch crazes served as a parable for the dangers of mob rule. The image of frauds exploiting the superstitions of the common man resonated with elites who were suspicious of the mass political movements gaining power in America’s young democracy. In the years before the Civil War, witch trials became a way to highlight the dangers of factionalism. The divisions that tore apart towns like Salem became a metaphor for a country that was drifting toward conflict.48

For those hoping to overcome the divisions gripping the United States, Sherwood’s case illustrated the common cultural ties that bound the country together. When the New Jersey Historical Society described Burroughs’s transcript, it reflected upon the fact that her trial “serves to show the prevalence of such notions in all parts of the country.”49 Henry Howe’s Historical Collections of Virginia, one of the most popular books about Virginia history written during this period, echoed this sentiment. In his introduction to the transcript, Howe explained that Sherwood’s ducking proves that “persecution for witchcraft was not alone in our country confined to the Puritans of New England.” Proving how difficult the divisions between the North and South were to reconcile during this time, Howe could not resist differentiating Sherwood from those accused of witchcraft in New England. He wrote that she “met a milder fate” than those who were executed in Puritan societies.50

Even though some used witch trials to search for common ground, they also became a way for northerners and southerners to trade barbs with one another. In 1849, Henry Bedinger, a congressman from Virginia, invoked New England’s history of witch trials to highlight what he viewed to be the region’s self-righteous moralism. On the House floor, he said that “Massachusetts is a great state . . . a very great state, indeed is Massachusetts. She could not well be anything else, sir, for she has Boston, and Bunker Hill, and the Rock of Plymouth! There the Mayflower landed the Pilgrims; and there witches and Indians and Quakers and Catholics, and other such heretics, were in the brave days of old, burned, literally, by the cord!”51 He contrasted this history of perceived fanaticism with the more genteel Anglicanism that prevailed in Virginia and led to a more rational government. In addition to perpetuating the erroneous myth that witches were burned in New England (they were hanged), Bedinger’s speech had its intended result, infuriating representatives from New England.

As some Virginians contemplated Sherwood’s trial, it was common for them to reiterate the generalizations Bedinger made in his speech. For example, “The Church in Virginia,” written for Episcopal newspapers in 1836, vigorously challenged a rumor that there were records showing the “trial, condemnation, and execution of a woman by fire, for witchcraft” in Virginia. This slander was spread by malcontents hoping to prove that all religions had a “persecuting and [an] intolerant spirit.”52 Rejecting this generalization, the article reminds readers that the only known witch trial to take place in Virginia was Sherwood’s, and she was not executed. Far from proving the barbarity of Virginia’s colonial government, her ordeal demonstrates that “Virginia, therefore, [was] entitled to the honorable distinction of having, in the infancy of her political existence, sustained religion without severity, when her course found little countenance in the world’s example.”53

Northern observers after the Civil War balked at such assertions. To them, Sherwood’s trial not only illustrated the hypocrisy of Virginia’s elite but also the commonwealth’s institutional and cultural backwardness. This was Samuel Gardner Drake’s position when he wrote a history of witchcraft in colonial America in 1869. He concludes that “few more disgraceful scenes were ever enacted” in New England than what happened to Sherwood.54 Drake marvels at the incompetence and cruelty of Princess Anne County’s “singular specimen of a back-woods court,” which postponed Sherwood’s initial ducking to protect her health even as it condemned her to “meet a watery grave.” Overlooking the fact that court records specifically mention that the sheriff should take action to prevent her from drowning, Drake decides that the ducking represented a scene that was “both comical and highly ludicrous.”55 As a final criticism, he complains that “owing to the shockingly bungling and illiterate manner in which the records of this affair appear, it is not easy to construct an intelligent narrative out of them.”56

A polemic written by William Cecil Elam was even more scathing than Drake’s article. Published anonymously for Putnam’s Monthly Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and National Interest, one of the country’s leading magazines, it begins by chiding Virginians for their views of New England. Writing that “Old Virginia has self-complacently held herself guiltless of those crimes and follies which she has attributed to New England,” Elam then uses episodes from Virginia’s history to prove the ignorance of this view.57 His goal was to show that Virginia’s colonial society was not only beset by the same superstitious ignorance and prejudices as Puritan societies, but that Virginians were more brutal than their northern neighbors. Elam not only describes Virginia’s history of religious intolerance and its vile treatment of Indigenous people to support his claims, but he also utilizes Grace Sherwood’s trial for witchcraft. He begins by arguing that New Englanders have apologized for their ancestors’ superstitions for long enough. It was time for everyone to realize that witch trials were a “malady of the age” rather than a singular defect of Puritan society. It was also past time for Virginians to abandon the smug assertion that their “forefathers had escaped the contagion” and that “the ‘sacred soil of Old Virginia’ had never been desecrated by a trial for witchcraft.”58 Sherwood’s trial proved such notions were a lie.

The piece goes on to summarize Burroughs’s transcript with minimal, but notable, commentary. In particular, it makes a point of directly quoting single, misspelled words, embedding them in summaries of the trial records. So, instead of February, it uses “ffebry,” for suspicion it uses “suspetion.”59 Spelling and grammar were not standardized in the English-speaking world in the early eighteenth century, and records from this period used multiple spellings for the same word as well as abbreviations. These nuances are lost in this article, and readers are left with the same impression that Samuel Drake had—that Princess Anne County justices were shockingly uneducated. Perhaps the most notable commentary Elam offered is his contention that Grace Sherwood had African ancestry. He bases this conclusion on the fact that when Sherwood was searched after her ducking, the jury reported that they found two marks “of a black color, being blacker than the rest of her body.”60 Because of this, he argues that Sherwood was Black, or at least mixed-race.

Here again, the way in which an author describes Sherwood’s trial reveals the tensions of the period in which he was writing. In 1869, the country had just endured a horrific war fought over the question of slavery. It was also the year that Virginia ratified the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments, both of which attempted to guarantee the rights of African American citizens. These amendments were acrimoniously debated in the commonwealth, and there were clear efforts by many of its leaders to undermine their implementation.61 W. C. Elam was actively involved in the struggle to adopt these constitutional changes and to improve the status of the commonwealth’s newly freed African American residents. Not only was he the editor of the Richmond Whig, an antisecessionist newspaper, but he also went on to become a leader of Virginia’s Readjuster Party. In the aftermath of the Civil War, the Readjusters temporarily won control of Virginia’s government and created a biracial coalition to reform the commonwealth. In particular, they worked to establish free public schools and to ensure that African American people had the right to attend those schools. They also worked with Republicans at the federal level to ensure that African American citizens could participate in Virginia politics.62

Elam’s contention that Sherwood was a “despised” free person of color reflects the rancor produced by these struggles. While it is easy to see how he could have interpreted the record the way he did, it is almost certain that Grace Sherwood did not have African ancestry. This claim has only appeared in the article from Putnam’s; no one else has interpreted the court records in this way. Furthermore, there are no folktales, legends, or stories that suggest it either. While the historical record does not specifically say that Sherwood was of English descent, this is not surprising. Unless there was a specific reason to mention where in England a settler came from, records never did. In fact, while documents did not indicate if someone came from the British Isles, they did record if someone was African. When an individual had mixed heritage, this fact was recorded as well.63 If Grace Sherwood was Black, at least one of her trial records would have mentioned it.

Sherwood’s court cases also occurred in a period when Virginia was experiencing significant social and institutional changes regarding the status of Africans in the colony. New laws restricted interracial relationships, and socially they were becoming taboo. The institution of slavery was also expanding and becoming more rigid and defined. Additionally, Virginia’s government passed laws that attempted to limit the rights of free Blacks, and in some cases, it was becoming more difficult for them to own property. Moreover, cases involving people with African ancestry were often adjudicated differently than those with litigants of English descent. While free people of color could and did find ways around these limitations, if Grace Sherwood were a Black woman, she would have likely found it difficult to regain her property rights in 1715.64 More importantly, considering how often she was in court, the surviving records would have indicated that she was of African descent on at least one occasion.

Even though articles written in the mid-nineteenth century interpreted Sherwood’s story through the lens of their time, their popularity continued to spread it beyond Princess Anne County. At the same time, writers were still simply summarizing what Burroughs had found in 1833. It would be fifty years before anyone uncovered new details. In 1883, Edward Ingle of Johns Hopkins University published “A Virginia Witch” for the Magazine of American History. In addition to summarizing the records collected by Burroughs, Ingle offers important contextualization and historical analysis. He became the first author to mention that the residents of Princess Anne County told legends about Sherwood. He also incorporated Hill’s petition to the attorney general into his narrative.65 The notes of the governor’s council relating to this request were transcribed and included in the first volume of the Calendar of Virginia State Papers, published in 1875. For Ingle, the attorney general’s response to Hill’s petition confirmed that Virginia authorities did not know how to handle a serious accusation of witchcraft. Like so many of the historians writing before him, Ingle concludes that their uncertainty stemmed from the fact that Sherwood’s trial was a “solitary” case, an anomaly in “the loyal gem of the English crown.”66

Ingle’s article received widespread attention in literary magazines and helped to cement Sherwood’s reputation as the lone Virginia witch.67 The incredibly popular Harper’s Magazine made this status official when it published “Grace Sherwood: The One Virginia Witch,” a vividly descriptive account written by John Esten Cooke.68 Cooke, a native Virginian, had published a wide range of melodramas for literary magazines like the Southern Literary Messenger as well as several novels and biographies.69 His interest in Sherwood can be traced back to at least 1859, when he incorporated colonial witch beliefs into a frontier romance called “Greenway Court; or, the Bloody Ground.” In a footnote, Cooke explains that “the introduction of witchcraft into a work, the scene of which is laid in Virginia, may not be attributed to the fancy merely of the writer,” noting that, instead, he drew from actual events, like Sherwood’s trial.70 Similar to Ingle’s “A Virginia Witch,” Cooke’s dramatic retelling was widely read and extensively promoted. Thanks in part to its publication, few could doubt that the “only trial for witchcraft Virginia ever witnessed, [was] that of Grace Sherwood.”71

Painstaking analysis of colonial records quickly revealed that Sherwood was, in fact, not Virginia’s only witch, just its most famous. In 1893, the William and Mary Quarterly, which had recently established itself as a premier journal of colonial history, published recent discoveries that identified other cases related to witchcraft in Virginia. In the article’s introduction, the journal’s editor reminds readers that “the case of Grace Sherwood has been hitherto pointed out as the solitary instance in the Colonial annals.” These newly uncovered trials prove that this notion was not true.72 The first case discussed was William Harding’s conviction, whipping, and banishment in 1656; the second was Alice Cartwright’s trial in 1679. The article also briefly mentions the discovery of Grace Sherwood’s will and reveals that records from counties across Virginia show “abundant evidence that the Virginians were not without the absurd and cruel severities of the age.”73 The transcript of Cartwright’s trial was found by Edward James, a historian from the Tidewater region who was the editor of the Lower Norfolk County Virginia Antiquary, a journal that published transcriptions of colonial documents from Lower Norfolk County and Princess Anne County. Many of these transcriptions were republished by the William and Mary Quarterly, giving them a wider audience. Combing through the records of both counties, James put together an extensive collection of documents related to Grace Sherwood and her court cases.

Broken into four parts, James’s “Grace Sherwood, the Virginia Witch” not only provides a new version of the records first collected by Burroughs in 1833, but it also adds a wealth of new information, including John White’s transfer of 50 acres to James Sherwood, White’s will, the Sherwoods’ land sale to Plomer Bray, the Sherwoods’ three slander suits, the inventory of James Sherwood’s estate, Grace Sherwood’s suit against the Hills, and her will.74 While the bulk of James’s article is a straightforward transcription of the records, he also provides valuable contextualization in the footnotes, including a copy of the notes of the governor’s council previously published in the Calendar of State Papers, Sherwood’s land grant from 1715, and a brief explanation of European belief in witchcraft. He also provides information about four other witchcraft cases heard by Virginia’s General Court, making clear that Sherwood’s trial was not the anomalous event people imagined it to be.75 Having uncovered a wealth of information that had been sitting in plain sight, James could not resist chiding earlier authors for their reliance on unfounded conjecture to fill in the gaps missing from Burroughs’s transcript. He was particularly contemptuous of Putnam’s article about Sherwood’s trial. He lamented the fact that “a great many fanciful things have been written about Grace Sherwood’s origin and position in life by ingenious authors, who, instead of searching the records for facts, have tortured their imagination for theories.”76

Unfortunately, James’s reprimand did not encourage future research. In fact, almost everyone writing about Sherwood has been content to rely on his collection of documents since its publication in 1894. It remains the definitive authority on the matter. James would be frustrated to know that other records remained untouched for more than a century. He would also be aggravated to know that so many authors supplemented his findings with local legends about Grace Sherwood. James’s perspective was shaped by the fact that he was a professional historian eager to create an understanding of the past shaped by clear evidence found in the surviving documents. As a result, he did not consider how essential these legends are to the story of Grace Sherwood. These tales began circulating almost immediately after her ducking and became a foundational part of Princess Anne County’s culture in the centuries that followed. Once the records of Sherwood’s trial were published, authors like John Esten Cooke began using these legends to give life to the incomplete history revealed by transcripts. As a result, Grace Sherwood’s history became inextricably linked with her legend. While the substance of these tales is drawn from tradition and they do not accurately reflect what happened, they are nevertheless an essential part of Sherwood’s story.

Figure 8. Front page of “Grace Sherwood, The Virginia Witch.” (William and Mary Quarterly 3, no. 2 [October 1894])

5

Fantastical Legends

It is not a surprise that Grace Sherwood’s ducking generated legends that have endured for generations. Extraordinary events leave a permanent impact on the places they occur. As Nathaniel Hawthorne observes in The House of the Seven Gables, once strange experiences pass from living memory into history they lead to even stranger stories. He understood that these tales are “sure to spring up . . . for ages afterwards, like the toadstools that indicate where the fallen and buried trunk of a tree has long since mouldered into the earth.” They are “tradition—which sometimes brings down truth that history has let slip, but is oftener the wild babble of the time, such as was formerly spoken at the fireside, and now congeals in newspapers.”1 Rather than relate actual events, legends help us to understand the places where they are told. This is certainly the case with the legacy of Grace Sherwood.

Her trial left a deep impression on the culture of Princess Anne County. The fact that the area where she was ducked has been called Witchduck ever since is the most obvious example of this impact. John Esten Cooke was right when he claimed that the uniqueness of this name kept Sherwood’s story alive in the community.2 It made people ask about the witch ducked at Witchduck. It made them wonder if she was wrongfully accused, or if she was an actual witch who terrorized her neighbors. They wanted to know what happened during her ducking and if she escaped with her life. Like Hawthorne’s metaphorical toadstools, stories developed to answer these questions. Spread by word of mouth, they changed over time and embedded themselves into the region’s folklore. As time went by, many of these legends became fantastical and surreal, drifting from the events that took place in 1706.

In these stories, Sherwood became an actual witch who possessed a range of supernatural powers. She could change her size, make transatlantic voyages in a single night, and she could fly. To achieve these feats, she would use mundane objects like pewter plates or an egg. While these abilities made her threatening, she never used them to hurt her neighbors. Instead, she enjoyed mocking and ridiculing the people who underestimated her power. She also made no secret of where she received her supernatural skills. According to legend, Sherwood could be found dancing with the devil at night.

Many of these tales, or at least variations of them, were around well before the records of Sherwood’s ducking were rediscovered in the nineteenth century. When these documents were first published, most authors only hinted at the existence of these stories. Edward Ingle, for example, closed out his article for the Magazine of American History in 1883 by mentioning that “mysterious legends concerning the witch still survive among the watermen and other people living in the vicinity of ‘Witch Duck,’ as the scene of this curious trial is called to this day.”3 “The Story of Grace Sherwood,” written at the turn of the twentieth century, similarly notes that curious visitors to Witchduck can easily find locals who are eager to point out where Sherwood was ducked and share stories about her.4 Neither author records any of the legends that they heard. Many writers, especially professional historians who wanted to provide a scholarly account of what they uncovered, were worried that such fantasies would distract from the seriousness of their writing. Even those who were interested in local folklore were nevertheless hesitant to include stories that drifted too far from reality.

When L. B. Taylor Jr. included a chapter on Sherwood in The Ghosts of Tidewater, published in 1990, he concluded that her story was “interesting enough” without the “many preposterous legends” people had shared over the centuries.5 Taylor, who began his career writing nonfiction, published his first collection of Virginia ghost stories in 1983 and eventually published over a dozen more during the next thirty years. Along the way, he became responsible for compiling the most extensive collection of folktales from a single state in the country.6 While preparing his chapter on Sherwood, he undoubtedly found numerous legends about her, but he wanted to stick to the history. Over time, however, the impact of Sherwood’s legend was too important for Taylor to ignore. When he revisited her story twenty years later, he dutifully included several of the most well-known legends about Virginia’s most famous witch.7 When doing so, signs of his earlier hesitancy remained. He separated these tales from what actually transpired, including them as an aside at the end of the chapter.

Authors who were more interested in telling a good story have been less cautious and wove stories about Sherwood into their accounts of historical events. Sometimes these additions add dramatic flair; other times, they provide the details missing from surviving records. Because so many writers have retold these stories, it is possible to trace the evolution of these legends and see how they have changed over the past century and a half. As a result, it is possible to get a sense of how the oral versions of them evolved as well. It is even possible to see how these stories varied in different parts of Princess Anne County, and later Virginia Beach. Relying on written versions is not perfect, however. Ideally, folklorists would have collected these legends firsthand over the years, recording them verbatim while clearly identifying their source and location.8 This process would have made it possible to say with certainty how these legends changed over time. Unfortunately, no one did this work. While a few authors attempted to record the legends as they heard them, most put what they heard into their own words. As a result, it is impossible to know if some changes reflect genuine variations in the oral folklore or if they come from the authors themselves. It is also difficult to determine how much the published versions of these stories influenced the way people told them when talking face-to-face. Tales that appeared in print have undoubtedly influenced the way locals have told these stories from the mid-twentieth century on. Even with these limitations, printed sources nevertheless provide an invaluable collection of Sherwood legends.

Most authors acknowledge that these stories are not true and that they are meant to be whimsical flavor. In fact, most of the people sharing them do not believe them. Instead, these legends help to connect people to specific places and times, and they build connections between generations and members of the community.9 Betty Oliver, a folklore student at the University of North Carolina who collected folktales about Sherwood in the 1960s, explains it best. She wrote that Sherwood’s ducking was

an atypical event, and from this event tales are born. These tales are told with such conviction that the listener oftentimes involuntarily becomes a believer. The new converts become the carriers of said tales, and they tell and re-tell them adding here and there their own personal touches. So finally the tale and facts become intermingled, and together they wend their way through generations as part of each generation’s heritage. The story of Grace Sherwood is just such a tale. It lives and will continue to do so in the hearts and minds of the natives of Princess Anne County, Virginia.10

These stories are significant because they are part of the region’s traditions; it does not matter that they do not accurately reflect what happened. When people retell them, they are connecting with that tradition and the people who told the stories before them.

For W. H. T. Squires, an amateur local historian who wrote about the history of Princess Anne County and gave lectures about Grace Sherwood to community groups throughout the 1920s and 1930s, this generational connection is why she was so significant. He explained that “each generation has repeated the quaint folk-stories which have gathered around her name. On the long summer afternoons the grandmothers gather their little ones about their knees and tell again and again the stories of Grace, her magic, her powers, and her fate.”11 Along the way, these stories built a community. Historical legends have always served this purpose. They simplify the complexity of the past and turn it into a story that provides a shared sense of self that transcends individual differences and the gaps that separate generations. They provide an invisible thread that connects those who live in the present with those from the past.12 Even though legends might contain fantastical or supernatural elements, they are always told as if true. This sense of reality provides their foundation, grounding both the listener and the teller. While the plot of these stories is generally concise and at times incomplete, they always have a clear narrative with defined characters. That is because the goal of the legend is to explain human questions, not simply to tell a story. A legend’s plot-driven structure, characters, and supposed truthfulness separate it from fairy tales, fables, or other types of stories that are also part of a community’s folklore.13

As legends spread, their characters can become folk heroes. One only needs to look at the importance of King Arthur in British culture or Joan of Arc in French culture to see evidence of this fact. While Grace Sherwood hardly reaches the status of these figures, she has nevertheless become an ingrained part of southeastern Virginia’s culture, and she is beloved by many of its residents. This affection was apparent to Betty Oliver in 1962. As she was collecting legends from residents around Witchduck, she could not help but notice that they took “an ironic pride” in Sherwood.14

The oldest and most enduring legend about Grace Sherwood is that she sailed across the Atlantic Ocean in an eggshell and brought rosemary to Princess Anne County. John Esten Cooke included this tale in his 1884 piece for Harper’s Magazine, “Grace Sherwood: The One Virginia Witch,” making it the oldest fantastical legend about Sherwood to appear in print. Considering the melodramatic tone of “The One Virginia Witch,” Cooke’s version is not just the oldest; it is also the most descriptive. He begins with a long, romantic description of Princess Anne County’s Chesapeake Bay coastline, noting that it is dotted with rosemary bushes. Their abundance is shocking, considering that “for a century after the settlement of Virginia no rosemary was ever seen there.” According to tradition, people can thank Grace Sherwood for the herb’s prominence in the region. Locals say

she had crossed the Atlantic to the Mediterranean in an eggshell, had been pleased with the odor of the rosemary growing on its shores, and on her return from this voyage in an open boat had brought some plants which she set out around her cottage “for remembrance.”

The result of this harmless fancy was that Princess Anne was soon covered with rosemary; but the neighbors of young Grace Sherwood were ungrateful. For want of something better to occupy their minds, they began to gossip about her. Rosemary was sweet, but there was that voyage in the eggshell boat! It was true it harmed nobody, but such proceedings were uncanny. Only witches who rode on broomsticks to midnight meetings could sail in eggshells, and as witches cast spells and exerted malignant influences on honest people, it was plain that Grace Sherwood was a witch, and ought to be tried and punished.15

Cooke’s version of this legend became a template for other writers, with some copying his text verbatim.16 Perhaps the most interesting part of it is his claim that the rumors of Sherwood’s Mediterranean voyage are why her neighbors put her on trial. Because he wove this story into the actual history of her trial, it is not clear if he blended legend and fact for dramatic effect or if the oral version he heard made these connections.

Regardless of how this merging of fact and fiction occurred, by the twentieth century many took for granted that Grace Sherwood was on trial, in part, because locals thought she had sailed in an eggshell. For example, when the Virginian-Pilot published an article about her in 1920, one of the secondary headlines proclaimed, “Young Woman Charged with Crossing Ocean at Night in Egg Shell Craft.” The article elaborates further, telling readers that “a perusal of the records will show you that Grace had a penchant for making voyages [in an eggshell].”17 As should be clear by this point, the surviving trial records make no such allegation. Considering the number of blatant errors in the article, it is clear that its author relied only on what locals told him records said rather than reading those records for himself. In addition to assuming trial transcripts mentioned the legend of the eggshell boat, the author proclaims that Sherwood drowned during her ducking.18 Even though this detail is not true, it was commonly believed in the early twentieth century.

These historical errors aside, the Virginian-Pilot’s 1920 retelling of the eggshell legend includes some notable changes to the version relayed by Cooke. Most significantly, Sherwood’s destination was now England, not the Mediterranean, and the plant she brought back was a rose myrtle bush, not rosemary. She also now made her journey in a single night and was “back in time for breakfast.”19 While Cooke suggested that Sherwood’s neighbors were horrified by her magical abilities, according to the Virginian-Pilot, they did not care that she chose to travel the ocean in her eggshell boat. They only arrested her because “the waves themselves viewed herself and her eggshell as highly insulting, for she was never more than a mile from shore before they became so exceedingly angry that they began to toss mountain high and the winds always took a bend,” creating “many an unpleasant night.”20 Describing Sherwood sailing through the tempest she conjured calls to mind earlier stories of witches summoning storms that sank ships and terrorized seaside communities, connecting her legend to the wider witch lore Virginia inherited from Europe. This dramatic addition to the legend did not persist, and neither did the article’s swapping of rosemary in favor of rose myrtles. Sherwood’s change in destination, however, remained. Well into the twenty-first century, it is common for authors to write that Sherwood sailed to England, though it was not unusual for her to still be traveling to the Mediterranean.21

By the end of the 1980s, it was also common to hear that all the rosemary in Virginia Beach came from Sherwood, though her motive for bringing it often differs. While some say she brought the rosemary to decorate her garden, others claim she needed it to “sweeten lard.”22 There are other variations as well. According to Louisa Venable Kyle, whose children’s book The Witch of Pungo and Other Historical Stories of the Early Colonies has shaped most current interpretations of Sherwood’s legend, rosemary was only one of the “magic seeds and herb cuttings” she brought back from her overseas voyages.23 Sherwood was able to “grow any flower,” and one of her favorites was the blue lupine. She planted this flower on Blossom Hill in Back Bay, and it has flourished ever since. It is known locally as the “witch’s flower.”24

The association between Blossom Hill, blue lupine, and Sherwood first appeared in print in 1956. Katharine Fontaine Syer included the story when she discussed Sherwood in a chapter she wrote for a book on the history of Tidewater edited by Rogers Dey Whichard, a languages professor at what is today Old Dominion University and a scion of a prominent Princess Anne County family. Syer first heard the story from Margaret J. Bratton, a local who told her that Sherwood brought blue lupine to Blossom Hill after sailing to England in an eggshell.25 This variation of Sherwood’s eggshell voyage appears to be unique to the Pungo/Back Bay area of Princess Anne County and Virginia Beach. Longtime residents still tell this version of the story, though some do not specifically mention blue lupine, saying instead that Sherwood is responsible for the herbs and flowers that grow on Blossom Hill.26

In Pungo/Back Bay, residents also used to associate these legends with a witch named “Old Isabel,” not Grace Sherwood. Despite the different names, the stories are identical. Like Sherwood, “Old Isabel” sailed to England in an eggshell, bringing back all of the rosemary that grows in the region. She was also accused of bewitching crops and livestock, just as Sherwood was.27 Tales of “Old Isabel” were common before the 1950s, and over time they have been replaced with those about Sherwood. In fact, people who remember hearing about “Old Isabel” generally assume that storytellers meant Grace Sherwood. Considering the identical legends told about both, this is probably the case. It is possible that as years went by, people still remembered stories about Sherwood but forgot her name. “Old Isabel” was used as a stand-in.

The eggshell legend itself likely started as a generic witch legend told in the region. When it spread to the Princess Anne County, locals then added details about Sherwood or “Old Isabel.” Rumors of witches sailing in eggshells have been spread throughout the English-speaking world since the seventeenth century.28 More significantly, an almost identical story is part of the folklore of Knotts Island, a small North Carolina community in the Currituck Sound near Back Bay. According to this legend, when the island was first settled, the residents could not find rosemary, which they had used for cooking when they lived in England. One morning, they saw a “small speck” in the ocean that was in fact a “small bark boat” being rowed by an old woman known to be a witch. She had sailed to England overnight to bring a rosemary bush to the island.29 The links between these two stories are not surprising. By its nature, folklore is not only passed down from older generations, but it is also passed on to neighboring areas. The stories then take on local flavor, grounding them in the community. As a result, it is not unusual for similar legends to be told in different regions, states, or even countries.30

The simple structure of the eggshell legend makes it ideal for such adaptation. Unlike many of the other tales about Sherwood, her voyage is a brief story more resembling a rumor than a full-fledged legend. It does not provide details about Sherwood’s personality, and the plot is rudimentary. While most versions of Sherwood sailing across the ocean in an eggshell are more or less the same, a few sources have interesting variations that are less common. One appearing in the Virginian-Pilot in 1930 and collected by Oliver in 1962 alleges that Sherwood set sail in an eggshell, but once she hit the open sea, it turned into a “full-rigged ship.”31 Another published in 1976 has her immigrating to Virginia from England in an eggshell, shocking her neighbors when she arrived.32 This latter variation does not appear in any other source; the former, however, blends the eggshell legend with another that describes Sherwood using her magic to commandeer a ship to sail to England for rosemary.

For the most part, this tale shares the same plot as Sherwood’s eggshell voyage, though it is different enough to stand as its own separate legend. It is also the second-oldest fantastical story about Sherwood found in print, appearing in a 1906 issue of Jamestown Magazine. In this early version written by Willard Homan, Sherwood was so offended by the cruelty she experienced during her trial and ducking that she wanted to return to England. She found a vessel docked in Hampton Roads with no crew aboard except a cook. After explaining her ordeal, she said she would like to set sail to England immediately. When the cook explained that he could not “hoist the sails” and did not know how to navigate the boat, Sherwood told him to go into the ship’s cabin. A few hours later, she called him back to the deck and he realized the ship was entering the harbor of Portsmouth, England. Sherwood was able to command the ship using only her magic.33 While the core of this legend remains the same in other versions, Homan’s is the only one in which Sherwood wanted to sail to England to escape her persecution. In every other variation, she goes there to get rosemary, as she did in the initial eggshell legend.

W. H. T. Squires provides one of the best examples of this version in his 1928 book of Virginia history and folklore. Written to mimic the dialect of the “prosperous old farmer and fisherman” who told him the story, Squires explains that Sherwood came to a ship whose crew had left for the local tavern. This time the only one left behind was a cabin boy, not the cook. Looking at him with “two red, fiery eyes,” she demanded that he hoist the anchor. When the boy explained that it was too heavy for him to move on his own, she simply said, “O, yes ye kin.” When the boy touched the anchor, it came up “light as a feather.” He made a similar protest when she ordered him to spread the sails, only to have them fly “into place, every sail like it was alive and know whar it ought to go.” With the sails in place and the anchor raised, the calm wind became “the stiffest breeze,” and the ship sailed through the Lynnhaven River into the Chesapeake Bay and ultimately arrived in England. Once she had collected the rosemary she needed, the ship returned to Virginia. When the crew returned from their night out, they found the vessel as they had left it. The tale concludes with a familiar reminder that all the rosemary growing in Princess Anne County came from that initial voyage. Squires writes that he told the farmer he had heard she made this trip in an eggshell. The old man replied that some tell that story. According to him, some say “she went clean acrost in an eggshell,” whereas others say she only used it to sail to the ship.34

The legend of Grace Sherwood commandeering a ship was a particular favorite of George Tucker, a longtime columnist for the Virginian-Pilot who published five variations of the tale between 1949 and 2000. He included the first in an article for the paper, which collected several other Sherwood legends.35 A decade later, he offered a bare-bones version of the story in his column “Tidewater Landfalls.” It is missing key components, such as Sherwood’s interaction with the ship’s lone crew member and the vivid descriptions of her magical powers. It contains other crucial details, however, explaining that she needed the rosemary to flavor lard and that the ship was docked along the Lynnhaven River.36 Tucker devoted an entire column to the tale in 1962, offering the chance to provide a thorough account of it. He claims that he heard the story from an “old friend down at Pungo,” and just like Squires, Tucker uses this attribution to justify using dialogue. In fact, his is almost an identical retelling of Squires’s version, only missing the folksy diction. Again, the remaining crew member is a cabin boy who can perform supernatural feats thanks to Sherwood’s commands. While in Tucker’s version she lacks fiery eyes, she nevertheless towers over the boy, terrifying him. As in his column from 1959, the ship was found in the Lynnhaven River, and according to Tucker, the destination of the magical voyage was Bristol, not Portsmouth.37

When Tucker included this legend in his 1977 collection of Virginia folktales, it was more or less the same. Rather than saying he heard it from a friend in Pungo, he vaguely attributes it to “people . . . telling the story,” and this time he borrows the detail of Sherwood’s red eyes from Squires. He also adds a romantic end to the tale, writing that as the cabin boy explained his “wild tale” to his crew, he told them that “I know I was there because I kissed my sweetheart goodbye on the dock before we made the return trip.”38 Red eyes aside, Sherwood apparently had a soft streak. Tucker’s final recounting of Sherwood’s overseas journey appeared in the Virginian-Pilot in 2000. Once again, the story was the same, with negligible differences to his earlier versions. For example, Sherwood is described as “wild-eyed,” not red-eyed. The most significant change is not in the story but in Tucker’s attribution. He had previously claimed he heard the legend from a resident of Pungo. Now he credits Swepson Whitehead Brooks and his wife, Christina, residents of Rose Hall near the Lynnhaven River. Tucker explains that Brooks, who was in his eighties at the time, told the journalist the story when he was a boy in the 1910s or 1920s.39 Tucker never addresses this difference, and it is not clear if he misattributed his earlier accounts or if he had heard the same story from multiple sources.

While this tale was a favorite of Tucker’s, he was not alone in sharing it. Considering the fact that the mystical sea voyage is a foundational legend about Sherwood, most authors include it when writing about her. For the most part, the story is included alongside a longer discussion of Sherwood’s trial and ducking, and these versions lack the characterization and dialogue that made Squires’s and Tucker’s accounts so immersive. While most sharing this legend agree that Sherwood brought rosemary to Virginia using her eggshell or a commandeered ship, some variations have her using her diabolical powers to fly to England for the herb.40 As with the initial tale of Sherwood’s eggshell voyage, many of the details of her trip on a commandeered ship draw from motifs that have been part of Western folklore for centuries. Communities throughout Europe and the United States have told similar tales of witches directing the course of ships by sitting atop their masts or terrorizing people with their red eyes.41 The influence of these motifs further demonstrates the way in which folklore adapts to include local details that help to ground it in a specific setting.

According to legend, Sherwood’s preference for sailing in eggshells was not restricted to transatlantic voyages. According to some, she utilized her strange vessel to sail along local waters as well, using it to get to Currituck in North Carolina. As with most early Sherwood tales, this one was first recorded by W. H. T. Squires. The same “prosperous old farmer and fisherman” who told him about Sherwood enchanting the ship also shared that Sherwood once came across a crowd boarding a boat headed to Currituck’s courthouse. She asked to come with them, and they told her that they did not have room for an additional passenger. Undeterred, she nonchalantly replied that she would be there when they arrived. As the boat entered the Currituck Sound, the travelers noticed an egg floating unnaturally beside them. Instead of bobbing along, it ignored the currents and moved next to the boat. When the rowers tried to break it with their oars, none of them could. It landed with them on the shores of Currituck, and when the egg touched the sand, it cracked open and Sherwood stepped out and tied the eggshell to a nearby tree. She then looked at her shocked neighbors and said she told them she would get across.42

George Tucker was as fond of this tale as he was of her voyage to England. While the core of his version of story is the same as the one shared by Squires, Tucker adds some notable changes. He specifically mentions that everyone was going to Currituck for a “frolic” and when Sherwood asked to join them, the men eagerly said yes, but the women refused.43 Even though Tucker does not make the connection explicit, this addition to the legend hints at Sherwood’s rumored beauty and the fact that the other women were jealous of the power she had over their husbands. This connection is more obvious in a version of the story found by Edgar Brown, a resident of Virginia Beach who collected information about Sherwood for more than thirty years. It says that when Sherwood arrived at the party, her “friend Scratch played the fiddle” while “she danced and flirted with the men.”44 Here Sherwood is not only alluring but, as her “friend Scratch” makes clear, she drew her power from the devil.

Figure 9. Sketch of Grace Sherwood with her eggshell boat. (Jan Dool, 1973; courtesy of the artist)

Since Louisa Venable Kyle was writing for children, her retelling of this legend was less salacious. According to her, everyone was going to a picnic, not a party, and as they were walking to the boat, Sherwood asked, “Want to go with me in my eggshell?” Everyone refused, and when they landed in Currituck, she was “up in the tree laughing at them and eating her lunch.”45 Here Sherwood is mischievous, enjoying the shock of her neighbors, which was consistent with the way Kyle often described her. Like Sherwood’s trip to England for rosemary, her eggshell journey to Currituck is frequently repeated in modern collections, all of which draw from Squires and Tucker. While almost every version has Sherwood traveling to an unknown spot in Currituck Sound, Edgar Brown collected at least one variation that has the party specifically taking place on Knotts Island. 46

Many versions of Sherwood’s trip to Currituck are combined with the tale of her using pewter plates to outwit her captors. Tucker provides the best example of this blended legend. He writes that when Sherwood emerged from her eggshell in Currituck, the female partygoers were so horrified by her supernatural powers that they demanded she be arrested and put on trial for being a witch. She was immediately convicted and condemned to hang. As the sheriff put her in the noose, she asked “if he’d like to see something he’d never seen before.” When he said yes, she requested two unwashed pewter plates. The sheriff found some, but before giving them to Sherwood, he cleaned them in a nearby rain barrel. Sensing her instructions had not been followed, Sherwood slapped him over the head with them and repeated her demand for two unwashed plates. Once she had them, she then explained that she could not perform her feat with the noose around her neck. When the sheriff removed it, she put a plate under each arm and flew home. As her neighbors returned to Back Bay, they found her working in her fields and “laughing up a storm.”47

In a variation from 1977, Tucker has Sherwood requesting the plates from a boy in the crowd, who washed them after “suspecting some devilment was afoot.” He only complied with her request out of terror when she sensed what he had done and forcefully repeated her demand. This time, when Sherwood’s neighbors returned to Princess Anne County after she had flown away, they found her smoking her pipe while tending to her crops. By 2000, Tucker said they returned to see her on her front porch with her pipe.48 As with his retelling of Sherwood commandeering the boat in the Lynnhaven River, he credits an anonymous Pungo resident in his earliest versions of the tale and attributes it to Swepson Whitehead Brooks and Christina Brooks in later ones.

Interestingly, Squires’s 1928 collection of Sherwood legends contains two different examples of the pewter plate legend, one taking place in Currituck and the other in Princess Anne County. According to Squires, in Currituck all the partygoers, not only the jealous women, agreed that Sherwood should be hanged for her witchcraft. As in Tucker’s version, she was not worried about her predicament and easily escaped with her pewter wings.49 When Sherwood took flight in Princess Anne County, it was to shock onlookers, not to evade execution. Surrounded by a crowd, she asked a boy to bring her two new, unwashed pewter plates so she could show them something they had never seen. This time, when the boy washed the dishes, it was because he “thought he could fool the witch.” Realizing this trickery, Sherwood “looked at him with her red eyes” and demanded he follow her instructions.50 Squires does not record what happens once she got the plates.

Whereas Squires ends the story without its concluding flight, every other version set in Princess Anne County has Sherwood flying away. As with the Currituck variant, most contend that she took flight to escape from her captors.51 In a version from 1930 that was likely from the Pungo/Back Bay area, Sherwood was imprisoned in a Back Bay jail and fled thanks to the pewter plates after making the familiar promise to show her jailers something “they had never seen.”52 In addition to being set in a jail that never existed (the county jail was near the Lynnhaven River at this time), this version is also missing the attempt to trick Sherwood by washing a first set of plates. In the variant collected from Witchduck by Betty Oliver in 1962, the episode takes place during her trial in 1706. As Oliver was told, Sherwood asked for the plates so she could prove she was not “in league with the devil,” and once again, the boy washed the plates to test her powers.53 According to Mary Reid Barrow, writing for the Virginian-Pilot in 1987, the episode occurred after the trial when Sherwood was being released from jail. She chose to fly home using the pewter plates to show that she was not cowed by her confinement.54 A less confident Sherwood is found in a variation collected by the Virginia Beach public library, which has the witch using the plates to fly to North Carolina in order to escape her hanging in Princess Anne County.55 While Sherwood’s preferred method of flight was pewter plates, both Squires and Tucker found people who had heard that she had bat wings. According to Squires’s source, Sherwood allegedly had a “curious growth under her arms and that they looked like a bat,” whereas Tucker was told that when Sherwood put the pewter plate under her arms, they turned to bat wings and allowed her to fly.56

In addition to these longer tales, there are several other shorter legends that are less widely known. These shorter legends lack the strong narrative components found in the stories of Sherwood commandeering the ship, sailing to Currituck in the eggshell, and flying with pewter plates. They are missing a strong plot, do not have supporting characters, and are sometimes nothing more than a rumor spread by locals. Considering how closely Sherwood is linked to Witchduck, it is not surprising that many of these stories came from this area and are about her ducking and its aftermath. Most of them were shared by longtime residents before the area’s population began to expand in the 1960s and have since fallen out of its collective memory.

At the turn of the twentieth century, locals used to say that when Sherwood was ducked, she only escaped from drowning thanks to the “help of her old friend, Old Nick.” When spectators went to her cottage after watching her sink, “to their surprise and horror they found ‘Old Grace’ sitting as usual in the chimney-corner smoking her pipe.” Others insisted she never emerged from the water. Instead,

she has lived at the bottom of Lynnhaven River as lively as a perch. [Locals] declare that sometimes an English vessel runs up the stream to “Witchduck”—that precisely at low twelve the bark reaches the place where she was pitched overboard—that then “Old Grace” rises from the bottom, goes aboard, visits her native land, and is back again by cock-crow in her home among the oysters! . . . Several fishermen, who have tried their luck at the uncanny place, have felt a jerk at their lines; but when they have pulled them up, instead of a bonito, to their horror they have seen “Old Grace’s” wrinkled face rise to the surface. Letting go of their tackle in fright, they have got away as quick as they could, not daring even to look back to see what became of the queer fish they had hooked!57

The Witchduck residents Betty Oliver interviewed offered similar stories, telling her that the area where Sherwood was ducked was “unnaturally full of fish” and, in a variation of the eggshell legend, claimed that when Sherwood was ducked, an eggshell came into view and turned into a ship. She boarded the vessel and sailed away from her captors.58

Another short legend, which is still popular in Virginia Beach, alleges that Sherwood used to dance in the moonlight and the spot where she danced has been bare ever since. Squires was the first to record this rumor, which he attributes to a longtime resident of the Witchduck area. He writes that after his source pointed to a spot of bald land, he shared that when Sherwood was imprisoned in the jail nearby, she would escape and “dance, sailing around and round, hardly touchin’ the ground and springin’ high and higher as she danced round and round. And all the time they thought they had her in jail! After she danced she’d be back in jail jest like before.”59 In most versions of this legend, Sherwood is not alone but is dancing with the devil. George Tucker heard this variation from an elderly resident of the area named Rose Land when he was a child. Land told Tucker that the devil used his powers to release Sherwood from prison each night so they could dance. Their nightly frolics left the ground barren.60 Betty Oliver was told a nearly identical version of the tale, which said that Sherwood’s dancing spot was located on Thoroughgood Farm, though others claim it was on a piece of land jutting into the Lynnhaven River or the site of her ducking.61 Considering how simple the narrative of this legend is, it has remained more or less the same through the years. The most notable variation comes from Louisa Venable Kyle, who did not like the fact that the legend tied Sherwood to the devil and implied that she damaged the land with her diabolical rendezvous. According to Kyle, Sherwood did enjoy dancing at night, but she did so alone, not with the devil. Moreover, instead of leaving the ground bare, her dancing made the grass grow.62 Kyle was also the first to record that Sherwood was rumored to dance around cows to sour their milk, a story that has often been repeated in recent decades.63

While the story of Sherwood dancing with the devil has been shared for generations, as with so many of the legends about her, it is a local variation of a legend found throughout the country. In fact, L. B. Taylor found a similar tale in Charles City County, located along the James River between Williamsburg and Richmond. Locals there say that the devil used to dance along the shore on land once owned by the prominent seventeenth-century planter Phillip Lightfoot. Eager to evict the devil from his property, Lightfoot challenged him to a dancing competition. Lightfoot won, but the spot, still referred to as Dancing Point, has been bare ever since.64 People in Bear Creek, North Carolina, have been telling their own variation of this story since the 1880s. They claim that a spot of woods known as the “Devil’s Tramping Ground” has been barren ever since the devil danced on it. Not only will nothing grow there, but animals shun it as well.65

The way residents of Bear Creek describe the “Devil’s Tramping Ground” not only echoes the legend of Grace Sherwood dancing with the devil but the way locals in Virginia Beach talk about her burial spot as well. A long-standing superstition in Pungo/Back Bay contends that her grave remains green, even in winter, because snow will not lie on it. Oliver was similarly told that Sherwood’s body remains warm even in death, melting the snow that falls on it. Perhaps drawing from the legend of Sherwood dancing with the devil, in recent years it has become popular to add that grass will not grow on her grave either.66 In the late twentieth century, Chester Shaffer, a longtime resident of Creeds, near Pungo, helped popularize another local legend about Sherwood’s burial. He was fond of saying that when Sherwood died, locals could not keep her buried. Her casket broke through the ground twice thanks to rainstorms that flooded the area. When her neighbors came upon her exposed coffin the second time, they found a black cat perched on top of it. In order to keep the casket in the ground, they moved it to a spot with heavy clay, hoping that would keep her in the ground.67 According to Shaffer, after the cat was seen on her casket, locals began killing every cat they could find, fearful that Sherwood had returned to terrorize the area. They were punished for their cruelty, since the area was soon overrun with mice and rats because there were no cats to hunt them.68

The most famous legend related to Sherwood’s death features another appearance by the devil. First recorded by Tucker in 1949 and repeated in several of his columns and by countless others, this tale alleges that when Sherwood was close to death, she asked her sons to put her near the fire. When they left her, “a tremendous gale shook the house and howled down the chimney, extinguishing the fire.” Sherwood was gone and in the ashes of the fireplace were hoofprints.69 Most authors like to end their stories about Sherwood with this legend. It is more or less the same in every version, with few resisting the urge to conclude by saying, “the devil had come to reclaim his own.”70

It is easy to understand why these fantastical legends have been such a popular part of Grace Sherwood’s legacy. Most people enjoy spooky stories, and it is hard not to embellish a witch trial with stories of supernatural feats. The fact that these legends are often told alongside verifiable facts about Sherwood’s life means that it can be difficult to tell the difference between fact and fiction. If making this distinction is challenging with fantastical legends, it is even trickier with legends that are rooted in reality. While hardly anyone tells the story of Sherwood sailing in an eggshell with any seriousness, more realistic stories, like those describing her appearance, are shared with more earnestness. Taken together, these tales create a second legendary Grace Sherwood, one grounded in the real world and standing alongside her more fantastical incarnation.

6

“True” Stories

Columnist George Tucker was fond of saying that there were two Grace Sherwoods, the historical and the legendary.1 The first was a real woman who endured suspicion and humiliation from her neighbors; the second appears in the fantastical legends that have spread throughout southeastern Virginia for centuries. The historical Grace Sherwood could only be found in court transcripts, wills, and other colonial documents. The legendary Sherwood was easier to discover, requiring nothing more than a conversation with a longtime resident of Witchduck or Pungo. Tucker was right to separate the historical Grace Sherwood from the legendary, but he missed an important distinction. There are three Sherwoods: the person who lived more than three hundred years ago, the character featured in fantastical folktales, and an equally legendary figure who is given life in a story that is convincingly told as historical truth. The distinction between the first and last of these Grace Sherwoods is easy to overlook. Moreover, the realistic legend about her is shared as fact and accepted as truth. Hearing that Grace Sherwood sailed to England in an eggshell in a single night is easy to dismiss as folklore. Reading that Sherwood was a beautiful woman who was persecuted by jealous neighbors has a ring of authenticity and is easier to believe.

It is easy to understand why this legend is so popular and why it is so widely believed. Surviving records can explain how much property Grace Sherwood had, what sort of possessions she owned, and when she went to court, but they cannot tell us what she was like as a person. Was she stoic or pugnacious? Did she enjoy her infamous notoriety, or did she want to live a quiet life and be left alone? Colonial records cannot answer these questions. There is not even a way to know for sure how many siblings or children she had. In many cases, records reveal even less about her accusers, and for the most part, researchers never looked for information about anyone other than Sherwood herself. Compounding these limitations, the transcripts for Sherwood’s court cases are missing important details. There is no way of knowing what questions justices asked during the trials, how witnesses answered them, or how Sherwood reacted. It is not even clear what Sherwood was accused of doing with her witchcraft when she was ducked in 1706. Most people want to know these important details. They want to understand the human element of the story.

The folklore spread across Princess Anne County and later in Virginia Beach fills these empty spaces, giving life to Sherwood, her accusers, and the men who sat in judgment of her. It creates the drama people expect from an event like Sherwood’s ducking. As with the fantastical legends about Sherwood, this more realistic legend has been part of southeast Virginia’s folklore for more than a century. Instead of being told as several tales, each with its own plot and setting, this legend is generally told as a single, cohesive story. It also has many elements that might contain kernels of truth. Folklorists have long realized that many folktales derive from real events and are drawn from history. As time goes on, the story changes and drifts further from what happened. People alter specific details to make the story more dramatic, change the chronology of events, or simply remember it differently from what they were told. Moreover, some aspects of these legends come from the minds of storytellers who want to tell a good story or who consider their interpretation to be fact. Along the way, what started as a more-or-less accurate recollection of events becomes a full-fledged folktale.2

The most extreme example of this tendency is found in literary versions of Sherwood’s trial. Writing for magazines and newspapers that published nonfiction articles side by side with novel excerpts and shorts stories, authors embedded dialogue and vivid descriptions within the surviving records to create a lively story. In the process, Sherwood, her accusers, and everyone else involved become akin to characters in a novel. Many of these authors were not local to the area and were only familiar with the story thanks to what had previously been published. As a result, most of these literary versions relied on the transcripts created by Burroughs and James and ignored the legends spread in Princess Anne County. John Esten Cooke’s “Grace Sherwood: The One Virginia Witch,” published for Harper’s Magazine in 1884, is the earliest and best example of this literary form. It was enormously popular and generated wider interest in Sherwood’s ducking, and it also created a template for future authors to follow.

Besides a single nod to the legend of Sherwood’s eggshell voyage to the Mediterranean, Cooke’s vivid dialogue and characterizations come more from his skill as a novelist than as a chronicler of history and folklore. His details and descriptions are entirely fabricated. He introduces Sherwood as a “shy, secretive maid” who was the target of “envious stories” from her neighbors.3 They spread so many rumors about her that the justices, described as the “worshipful Shallows and Slenders of the County Court,” had no choice but to investigate. After setting this stage, Cooke quotes the court transcript from July 10, 1706, which describes Sherwood’s ducking.4 He finds this record lacking, however, and embeds his own version of events within the historical record. He invites the reader to picture the summer day in 1706, with the justices “in a serious mood and with spectacles on their noses,” hearing the testimonies of Sherwood and her accusers. They sat “with contracted brows . . . on the elevated dais; the packed crowd of worthy people, in broad skirts and knee-breeches, behind the bar,” while the court clerk (whom Cooke has bizarrely named Dogberry) read the charges “with possible nasal intonation.” “Poor” Sherwood could do nothing but cry with her head held low as these events transpired.5

For Cooke, she is a meek and demure woman, quietly overcome by the circumstances facing her. She suffers endless indignities, including fierce scowls from Luke Hill (elevated by Cooke to the position of prosecutor) and the humiliation of having her body searched. Deviating from the record, which makes clear that Sherwood was searched by women, Cooke adds a hint of licentiousness, suggesting that Sherwood “had been arrested and examined, no doubt by a single justice of the peace . . . extra curiam in [his] manor house.”6 As a result of this search and a “damning array of testimony” from Hill and others, Sherwood’s “depravity was ‘proved,’” leaving her no option but to “appeal to the mercy of the court.” In this predicament, “the witch no doubt covered her face and sank down weeping, sorely distrusting the result of their worships’ consultation.”7

While the court had evidence of her guilt, the justices were nevertheless in a “quandary.” Relying on popular belief about witch trials rather than on fact, Cooke writes that the law demanded “that witches should be burned. But then to burn women was a thing unknown in Virginia.”8 To make certain she was guilty before taking this extraordinary step, the justices decided to duck her. Sherwood meekly, but heroically, accepted this test to prove her innocence, even though she would likely drown. She was taken to a “still and lonely” spot along the “oozy banks skirted with pines and lugubrious cypresses shining in the sun,” where “the ‘ancient women,’ no doubt resembling their respectable prototypes in Macbeth search her as she sobs. The sheriff then bound her hands and she was rowed to the middle of the river before being pushed in.” As she sank, “one and all of these honest Virginians, if we may hazard a conjecture, thought it was a bad business. It was hard to drown a woman, and doubtless they were about to drown Grace Sherwood.” Undoubtedly at least one person cried “she was innocent!” in the seconds after she was submerged. These cries stopped when she resurfaced, bobbing in the water. Her guilt was further proved when more marks were found as she was searched afterward. Cooke ends the story by explaining that no one knows what happens next, though “a tradition has survived that the young witch died in prison before that future trial.”9

In his literary version of Sherwood’s ducking, Cooke relies on a blend of conjecture and traditional assumptions about witch trials. He claims that, if guilty, Sherwood would be burned, even though this was not the case under English law. He, like most others, also considers it an obvious fact that the innocent drowned when ducked. Cooke also chooses to portray Sherwood as a clear victim of her neighbors’ aggression. She is described as young and shy, while the women who searched her are stereotypical hags. Interestingly, he does not make the same claim about Sherwood’s female accusers. In fact, they are absent from his tale. Instead, his focus is mainly on the men prosecuting her. While Cooke’s narrative is drawn from historical transcripts, his descriptions are a product of his own imagination. As someone who published numerous melodramas, he knew the type of story that would be popular with Harper’s readers. He also followed the lead of other writers who wrote similar stories about witch trials. Like Cooke’s story, these were also fictional stories that drew from historical events.

In these stories, it was common for accused witches to be young and vulnerable women who bravely resisted their persecution.10 This was the case when William Stone dramatized the trial of Mercy Disborough in 1834. She was woman in her fifties who was accused of witchcraft in Connecticut in 1692, and like Sherwood, she endured a trial by water. Though sentenced to execution, she was ultimately pardoned. In Stone’s story, she was a meek and beautiful teenaged girl who was targeted because she rejected the advances of a lust-crazed deacon. Instead of being pardoned, in Stone’s version of events, Disborough was marched to the gallows and only escaped death thanks to a timely raid by Native Americans.11

In shaping their stories, writers like William Stone and John Esten Cooke owe most of their inspiration to the Gothic literary tradition more than actual historical events. Gothic tales were incredibly popular at the time they were writing and often feature young and beautiful female protagonists who are victimized by unsavory men. Their efforts to escape their predicaments provide the main plot points for the genre, which generally take place in remote or historical settings.12 Authors like Stone and Cooke obviously hoped these Gothic tropes would make their stories more popular and more compelling for their audiences.

Beverly Campbell’s “When Virginia Ducked Milady Witch” followed in the footsteps of “The One Virginia Witch.” Published in 1934 for the Richmond Times-Dispatch, it promises to be a factual account of Sherwood’s trial and is written in an economical, journalistic style. Nevertheless, its use of descriptions and dialogue produces an almost totally fictionalized version of events. After a brief introduction explaining that “the abiding fear of the Devil and his minions” was not solely a New England phenomenon, Campbell begins her story by describing the sensation Sherwood’s trial caused in Princess Anne County. She writes that “nothing had so upset the even temper of [the county] since Mr. Bacon and his followers had rebelled against the autocratic government of the tyrant Governor Berkeley.”13 She then goes on to introduce Sherwood and explains that suspicion of her had grown over the years, leaving her and her children “shunned” by the community.

These suspicions resulted in Sherwood’s trial, which took place on a stormy July day. Despite the rain, the courthouse was filled with onlookers as the presiding justice entered. Campbell describes him as a “hale, hearty old gentleman, with a close-cropped Van Dyke beard, dressed entirely in black velvet, with ruffles at his wrist and broad, shining silver buckles at his knees and shoes, and much addicted to taking snuff, a small box for which now stood on the table in front of him. He was a lively old gentleman, though quite grave on the present occasion.”14 After the sheriff read the charges, Sherwood was brought in. Instead of the shy, demure young woman imagined by Cooke, here she is “middle-aged . . . full, round and plump,” possessing a “motherly face” with “brown hair turning slightly gray, and mild hazel eyes that bespoke a kindly nature.” The ordeal she faced left her “frightened and her face of an ashen paleness.” Near Sherwood were Luke and Elizabeth Hill. Both were “tall, thin, raw-boned persons, whose sharp, crafty features indicated far less of human kindness” than the maternal Sherwood.15

Using a conversation between the prosecutor, identified as Maxwell Boush instead of Maximilian Boush, and the presiding justice, Campbell explains the steps taken to prove Sherwood’s guilt, including the search for witch’s marks. This dialogue also addresses the challenge the court had empaneling the jury of women to search the accused. The justice then begins his interrogation of Sherwood, who initially spoke “in a frightened voice” as she refuted the allegations against her. As part of his questioning, the justice mentions the claims made by Richard Capps, Jane Gisburne, and Elizabeth Barnes. While Campbell draws the accusations made by Gisburne and Barnes from the slander suits filed in 1698, she is the first to publish that Capps accused Sherwood of cursing his cattle. Today, this detail is often accepted as fact, even though the trial transcripts do not explain what Richard Capps allegedly said about Grace Sherwood. According to Campbell, Sherwood’s demeanor changed with this barrage of questions. “Some of the fear seemed to leave” her, and she said “in a clear, strong voice: ‘I be a God-fearing woman and no servant of the devil, as ye would make me. I am entirely innocent of these charges, I tell you. Why am I to be harried and hawked in this manner?’”16

At this point, Campbell makes the interesting decision to introduce the fictional figure of Mr. Peyton to the story. “A well-known planter” who was trained in law, Peyton was shocked by the proceedings and offered to stand as Sherwood’s attorney. For the remainder of the story, he serves as the voice of reason and a foil for the presiding justice. Peyton pointed out that the previous accusations against Sherwood never resulted in formal prosecutions and accuses the Hills of vindictiveness. After a brief debate, both Peyton and the justice agreed that Sherwood should be searched again, along with her home. However, with Elizabeth Barnes as jury foreman, “the verdict [was] foreordained,” and there was little hope Sherwood would be exonerated.17 The narrative then uses the court records to explain how the justice reached the decision to duck Sherwood.

She was taken to the Lynnhaven River, reduced to a pond in Campbell’s description, where a crowd gathered to watch the spectacle. After explaining that precautions were in place to prevent Sherwood from drowning, the justice asked her if she agreed to be ducked. She answered “in a clear, strong voice” that she did so to clear her name. Once in the water, the crowd burst with excitement as Sherwood floated. A disgusted Mr. Peyton, ever the voice of reason, intervened to pull her from the water before turning to the justice and shouting, “Little did I think that you would have a hand in this. Pray tell me where justice be in such a practice. It hath neither sense or reason—this strange theory. Should the woman swim to security then she be favored of the devil and so self-convicted. And if she be innocent, and pray, to what compensation. Bah! You all be dolts and fools!”18

Though offended by the outburst, the justice was nevertheless moved by Peyton’s reasoning. Chastened, he turned to Sherwood and apologized. He not only cleared her of the charge but allowed her to use his carriage to return to her farm. He then thanked Peyton for “showing us the error of our ways.” The planter’s intervention saved them from having Sherwood’s “blood . . . upon our hands.” The justice concluded by telling the crowd he will hear nothing more of witchcraft in the county.19 Campbell’s story not only provides the definitive ending missing from the surviving documents, but the justice’s moment of clarity symbolizes the triumph of reason over superstition. This victory is telegraphed throughout by the inclusion of Mr. Peyton, an anachronistic voice bringing the “sanity” of the twentieth century to the eighteenth. He also serves as a male lead who can rescue Sherwood, who despite her bold defiance is still portrayed as the damsel in distress audiences would have expected in the 1930s.

Most other published versions of Sherwood’s ducking do not openly embrace the literary style of Cooke and Campbell. While many provide dialogue, its use is not as extensive as these largely fictionalized examples. Most also try to adhere more faithfully to the oral traditions, instead of their own imaginations. This is the case in the version offered by Pocahontas Wight Edmunds in her collection of Virginia folktales published in 1950. Written in a narrative form common with professional storytellers, Edmunds offers a succinct story. Once again, Grace Sherwood is portrayed as the unjust victim of her neighbors’ suspicions. Her accusers are spiteful, and in the case of Elizabeth Barnes, delusional. In Edmunds’s version, as Barnes describes Sherwood breaking into her room and whipping and riding her before jumping through the keyhole as a cat, one incredulous listener asks if Sherwood did not just leave through the door.20 Like Campbell, Edmunds cannot help but interject modern skepticism when discussing the accusations made against Sherwood.

Ultimately, these “preposterous” claims proved too much for James Sherwood, described as a dutiful husband desperate to defend his wife’s honor. He died after the ordeal “strained [his] heart.” Grace Sherwood was left alone to provide for her children as accusations mounted. When she was formally charged and brought to court, she faced the indignity of being searched by “her archenemy,” Elizabeth Barnes, as she stood shivering in the courtroom. While things looked dire, Edmunds offers a typical reminder that “Virginians were not given to witch burnings and duckings,” so the court did not know how to proceed. This inaction led Luke Hill to petition the governor’s council. He only grew more frustrated as they sent the matter back to the county court. Edmunds explains that he “was ready to tear his hair” and cried out, “when will anybody around here deal with that devil as she deserved?”21 In the face of Hill’s determination, Sherwood agreed to be ducked. She was nevertheless conflicted and fearful. Her neighbors were not. Instead, they “made a holiday” of her ducking, gleefully watching as Sherwood was cross-bound, left hand to right toe, right hand to left toe, and put in the water. After she floated, she was “thrust into prison. For years she peered out of a small, barred window, a window now the pantry of a snug farmhouse.” Ultimately, she was released, and with three adult sons to defend her, the allegations stopped. Lieutenant Governor Alexander Spotswood even restored her land as restitution.22

Edmunds’s story lacks the vivid descriptions and lengthy dialogue of the earlier literary versions. Instead, she incorporates elements from local oral tradition when dramatizing her version of the tale. As a result, it contains essential parts of the Sherwood legend. By the mid-twentieth century, almost everyone agreed that her ducking was a carnival-like event attended by a huge crowd. Furthermore, Spotswood’s land grant is commonly interpreted as an act of restitution for the injustice Sherwood endured. Edmunds’s description of Sherwood’s jail cell is also a clear reference to Ferry Plantation, a house with deep connections to the legend. At the same time, Edmunds does not provide the same detailed discussion of Sherwood’s ducking that many do. She also does not describe Sherwood’s personality. Instead, the accused is only a passive victim, relying on the men in her life to protect her and vulnerable to persecution without them. Since Edmunds was familiar with local stories about Sherwood, it is interesting that she does not describe Sherwood’s appearance, personality, and behavior. These omissions are notable since those details are generally the most significant to the legend.

According to long-standing belief, Sherwood was strikingly beautiful, so much so that it led to her persecution. Other women were so embittered with jealousy they could not help but gossip about her. Sherwood’s rumored allure first appeared in print in 1903, where she was said to have been “young and comely.”23 A more robust description was published three years later in Williams Homan’s “An Early Virginia Witch,” which appeared in Jamestown Magazine. Homan writes that Sherwood was “young and beautiful beyond any other woman of Princess Anne County.” “Tall and stately” with brown eyes that “gleamed upon [others] with tenderest sympathy,” she was so striking that “it was constituted as one of the counts in the indictment against her at the trial. The women said no mere mortal could be so beautiful.”24 They believed she was so enchanting she could easily seduce their husbands.

Figure 10. Portrait of Grace Sherwood. (Rip Rylance, ca. 2001; courtesy of the Friends of the Ferry Plantation House)

Several times throughout the 1920s and the 1930s, the Virginian-Pilot reiterated these claims. In 1920, it printed that Sherwood was “pretty and more alluring in the eyes of men than the vast majority of the accusers.” In addition to her other powers, she could make men so lovesick that it disturbed “the serenity of the community in a hundred different ways.”25 Reflecting how deeply this detail had embedded itself into local folklore, the paper regularly included these descriptions as an aside to other topics. Twice in 1927 articles hinted at Sherwood’s legendary beauty while discussing local points of interest. It mentioned that from the cupola of the newly opened Cavalier Hotel, visitors could view the spot where “Grace Sherwood was persecuted by the settlers because she was too beautiful and was indiscreet.”26 Describing the Witchduck area a month later, it printed that Sherwood’s “greatest crime was her comeliness and her ability to arouse the interest of men.”27

Even though rumors of Sherwood’s beauty can be found as early as 1903, it nevertheless took time for this piece of local lore to spread beyond southeast Virginia. “The Story of Grace Sherwood,” published around the same time as Homan’s article for Jamestown Magazine, is much less flattering in its portrayal of the accused witch. Instead of a young and beautiful woman, she is described as “disagreeable,” “a nuisance,” and “cantankerous.” After all, no one would have believed the accusations made against her if she was “a woman of unexceptional deportment.”28 Here Grace Sherwood is no different from the other unfortunate women most often accused of being witches—argumentative outcasts despised by their community.

Elizabeth Dabney Coleman echoed this suspicion when she discussed the history of witchcraft in Virginia for the Virginia Cavalcade in 1956. Even though she did not draw as definitive a conclusion as “The Story of Grace Sherwood,” she nevertheless wondered why Sherwood was so often accused. Coleman suggests she could have been an innocent victim, a “troublesome neighbor,” or even mentally ill. Coleman also reminds readers that the women accused of being witches usually lived in “insecure, unhappy isolation” from their neighbors.29 The obvious implication is that Sherwood was one of these unfortunate women who lived on the fringes of society.

Such suggestions even persisted in the pages of the Virginian-Pilot, even though it frequently described her rumored beauty. While discussing Sherwood’s legend in 1930, columnist Anne Forman Ellis asked, “Was she of the hysterical, unbalanced, superstitious type, not unknown today, who really believed in her own power and naturally was believed in a more credulous age? Or was she darkly handsome in her bold fashion, ruinous to her neighbors’ peace of mind through her looks and charm, stealing the hearts of staid, church-going husbands, and therefore evidently a witch?”30 Even though Ellis suggests that Sherwood’s “darkly handsome” looks might have led to the accusations against her, she only includes it as one of the possibilities.

More than sixty years later, L. B. Taylor Jr. asked many of these same questions when he included Sherwood’s tale in The Ghosts of Tidewater. Before discussing her trial and ducking, he explains that “no one knows how or why Grace Sherwood was singled out . . . perhaps she was a particularly ugly woman, or outspoken, or just plain unlikable, or all three.”31 Like Coleman, Taylor understood that this was generally the case with accused witches. Nevertheless, it is notable that he was unaware of how essential Sherwood’s legendary beauty had become to her story. Taylor meticulously collected Virginia legends, and the fact that he omitted this detail suggests that it had not moved much beyond Princess Anne County even as late as the 1980s. This was not the case when he revisited the matter twenty years later. In his second version, he described Sherwood as a “devoted wife and mother who loved her family,” while also being “the most maligned woman in Virginia history, abused and ridiculed for decades, unjustly incarcerated in dank prison cells, and humiliated by the superstitious beliefs and laws of her time.”32 The shift in Taylor’s characterization speaks to how widely local belief about Sherwood had spread in twenty years. By this point, Sherwood was not just a local folk hero, but her story had received global attention thanks to her informal exoneration in 2006.

According to legend, Grace Sherwood was more than a beautiful woman; she was also an unconventional one who challenged social norms. Nothing demonstrated her rebellious streak more than her tendency to wear her husband’s clothes, specifically his trousers. She found the multilayered skirts worn by Virginia women to be too cumbersome, especially while doing work in the fields. Men’s clothing provided more maneuverability and was more comfortable. While more practical, these garments were also tighter and more revealing, something that proved enticing to men and infuriating to women. As Gerry Richter, a volunteer at Ferry Plantation House, shares, once Sherwood was a widow, men in the community could not resist the temptation to stop by her farm and help her with odd jobs.33 According to Pungo resident Manford Nosay, men were so eager to spend time with Sherwood that if it was raining, they would tell their wives, “It’s raining and I can’t work today, so I’ll go to Norfolk to buy some materials.” In reality, they were going to visit Sherwood, a fact that became obvious to their wives when they returned home hours later without having purchased anything.34 Despite its anachronisms (Norfolk was not incorporated until 1705 and was not a journey that men could make from Pungo/Back Bay in a single day), Nosay’s tale humorously captures the mood of Sherwood’s neighbors. Seeing their husbands fawn over Sherwood in this manner only made women angrier with jealousy. Anne Bright, a Pungo resident and longtime volunteer for its Strawberry Festival, agrees with Nosay, noting that the “biddies” who lived near Sherwood were so consumed with envy that they could not wait to knock her down a peg.35 Or, as Nosay is fond of saying, “They wanted her to be drowned so that they would look better and their husbands would stay home more.”36

The notion that Grace Sherwood wore trousers is one of the more recent elements of the legend. It appears to have first been introduced into written versions by Louisa Venable Kyle in The Witch of Pungo and Other Historical Stories of the Early Colonies in 1973. In the “history” section of her story, Kyle writes that Sherwood “did things that made her neighbors wonder” about her; in particular “she dressed like a man.”37 Interestingly, Kyle did not include this detail when discussing Sherwood twenty years earlier in her column “A Country Woman’s Scrapbook.” There, she only said the accused witch was “unconventional.”38 Considering how familiar Kyle was with local folktales, the difference between these two versions suggests that stories about Sherwood wearing trousers were not part of the regional lore until the 1960s or 1970s. In fact, most sources before this period do not discuss Sherwood’s clothing at all. The few that do never suggest she wore men’s garments. A play written and performed locally in 1934 only shares that Sherwood wore “colors too gay and unseemly for a lady and it was a sight how the men flocked around her.” A 1954 article in the Virginian-Pilot similarly suggests that “she was quite a glamorous woman,” but this might only refer to the rumors of her beauty.39 Despite the fact that it is a recent addition, Sherwood supposed preference for men’s clothing did not take long to become an essential part of her legend. Since the 1970s almost every published version has mentioned it, and it is a detail commonly shared by locals.40 Explaining Sherwood’s sartorial indiscretions is so pervasive that it is even part of an information card handed out during the Pungo Strawberry Festival. While summarizing Sherwood’s story, it shares that she wore trousers, “a definite no-no” that invited the scorn of her neighbors.41

The changes occurring in American society in the 1960s and 1970s might help to explain this addition to the legend. This was a time when second-wave feminism and the women’s liberation movement were transforming the status of women and their place in society. In addition to challenging practices that kept women out of certain careers, feminists were also pushing back against the social restraints facing women. While activists primarily focused on issues related to reproductive rights, domestic violence, and the way society conceptualized women, they also struggled against the cultural norms that dictated how women should dress. Nothing symbolized this challenge more than women wearing pants.42 Folklore has always adapted to reflect contemporary anxieties. Moreover, the way people reflect upon witch trials usually explains more about the times in which these discussions take place than about the actual witch trials themselves. As people contemplated what made Grace Sherwood such a controversial figure in her community, it is only natural that they would draw from current debates about the place of women in society.

In fact, descriptions of Sherwood’s personality have always evolved to mirror the times in which they were told. Writing in the nineteenth century, John Esten Cooke borrowed from Gothic tropes and depicted Sherwood as a shy woman beset by venomous neighbors. This image persisted into the 1920s, when W. H. T. Squires portrayed Sherwood as a meek woman tormented by barbarity. He explains that when the judges ordered that she be ducked, she “quietly assented,” being a “docile victim” who relied “upon the justice and opinion of the court” to do what was right.43 Writing decades later, Louisa Venable Kyle imagined a more assertive woman. For her, Sherwood was a freethinker who challenged society’s expectations. In 1952, for example, Kyle wrote that Sherwood was “a non-conformist and born too soon to live the life she wanted to live.” She was “too much of a character to fit into the pattern prescribed for the women of her day”; she lived as she wanted to, a fact best illustrated by her tendency to dance in the moonlight.44 As time went on, Kyle developed this image of Sherwood further, describing her as “mischievous” and outgoing. In her estimation, “in another time or place Grace Sherwood might have become a great actress, a social lioness, or a leader of women’s causes.”45 Considering the fact that Kyle was a talented woman who pursued a career in journalism and became a respected leader in her community at a time when few women had careers of their own, it is not unreasonable to assume that she imagined Sherwood to be a kindred spirit

Kyle’s characterization of Sherwood has endured. By the end of the twentieth century, it was commonly accepted that Grace Sherwood was a nonconformist who challenged social norms. As one journalist explained, she was “independent and strong-willed,” which invited the scorn of her neighbors.46 For many, Sherwood’s rumored independent streak makes her a role model for women. Sherry White Entwisle, a descendant of Sherwood, has said that when she hears stories about her ancestor, she thinks of the women in her family. She has remarked, “What I find interesting and impressive . . . [is] that the women in my family are very headstrong. We’re very independent. We’re completely able to take care of ourselves and make our own decisions in life, and Grace was basically the same way.”47

Grace Sherwood has proved equally inspiring to women who do not share this family connection. In 2005, Celia Burnett, a local actress, included Sherwood in a program she prepared for the Pungo-Blackwater library in Virginia Beach that reenacted scenes from the lives of famous women. Burnett wanted to showcase women who contributed to the development of “freedom, democracy and liberty” and told Sherwood’s story alongside those of a first lady, an abolitionist, and suffragists. Even though Burnett added Sherwood because of her connection to the area, she nevertheless felt that Sherwood fit the theme of the show. According to the actress and playwright, Sherwood’s independence, business acumen, and assertiveness would have been valued by the community if she had been a man. Since she was a woman, these characteristics made her a witch.48

Burnett performed her program at a time when more people were explicitly portraying Sherwood as a protofeminist icon. In 2000, for example, an article in the Virginian-Pilot referred to Sherwood as Virginia Beach’s “first feminist”; six years later, another said that Sherwood’s story was one of “female power.”49 Nancy Sheppard made this feminist interpretation of Sherwood’s story central to her chapter on the accused witch in the 2018 book Hampton Roads Murder and Mayhem. According to Sheppard, Sherwood remains an “enduring image of feminism” who “rebelled against any institution that defined women as subservient and meek and a society that turned against her because she was strong-willed and forthright. Grace Sherwood was fearless for not allowing her world to define her but defining herself to the world.” As a “strong-willed woman,” she was “unable to accept the constraints that the expectations of being a female of her parish shackled upon her.” Although James Sherwood admired these traits in his wife, “these attributes were threatening to the patriarchy, while her beauty intimidated other women. It was only a matter of time before the community turned against the nonconformist couple.”50 In facing her accusers and enduring the humiliation of her trial and ducking, Sherwood was a role model for women and a symbol of the feminist spirit.

Because so little is known about the actual Grace Sherwood, she is ideally suited to change with the times. Her personality and appearance can evolve to meet the needs of those telling her story. In one generation she can be a meek woman dependent on the men in her life to protect her, and in the next she can be an independent-minded and mischievous rebel who enjoyed shocking her neighbors. Years later, she can become the embodiment of the feminist spirit, boldly shattering social expectations.

While legend humanizes Grace Sherwood, her accusers remain one-dimensional, lacking almost any characterization. It only broadly explains that women were offended by Sherwood’s nonconformity or jealous of her beauty.51 Men were either threatened by her independence or consumed by lust. For example, Joseph Filipowski, who built the boat used in Ferry Plantation’s reenactments of Sherwood’s ducking, has shared that Sherwood’s trouble began once she rejected the advances of a local magistrate.52 While legend does not explain much about the people responsible for Sherwood’s ordeal, it does provide a dramatic account of her ducking. This fact is not surprising, considering how central that event is to the story. Even though some details have evolved or changed, for the most part, the central narrative has remained consistent for more than a century. Like many of the descriptions of Sherwood’s personality and appearance, many of these details are anachronistic, revealing their modern origins.

Almost everyone agrees that Sherwood’s ducking was a sensational event attended by hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Excited to see such a spectacle, attendees from all over Virginia came to witness the “social event of the season.”53 William Homan first made this claim in 1906, writing that “people went in great numbers from Norfolk, from the plantations on Sewall’s Point, nearby, from Old Point and from Newport News.”54 Louisa Venable Kyle agreed, claiming several times that people from as far away as Norfolk, Portsmouth, and Williamsburg were part of the crowd. She even suggested that the number of people who saw Sherwood’s ducking explains why the event was so well remembered in the region. These people passed along their recollections to their children, who passed these stories along to theirs.55 In Kyle’s telling of the legend, so many people came that some had to stay in their boats to see Sherwood ducked. As a result, the Lynnhaven River was teeming with vessels.56 Another account of the ducking says, “the fields and woods along the river were black with people. Whole families came by wagon, cart and on horseback, by ferry and private boats.”57

Figure 11. Sketch of Grace Sherwood’s ducking. (Jan Dool, 1973; courtesy of the artist)

Since the 1940s, it has also become universally accepted that Sherwood was stripped to her undergarments and tied cross-bound before she was ducked. Louisa Venable Kyle’s The Witch of Pungo even includes an illustration of what this binding would have looked like.58 Even though many claim this detail is in the original trial records, they only mention that she was bound. While it was not uncommon for suspected witches to be tied cross-bound, Sherwood could have been restrained in any number of ways. In fact, some earlier accounts of her ducking describe only her hands being tied.59 When discussing Sherwood’s precarious position, it is also common for sources to claim that she was doomed regardless of the outcome of her ducking. She would be hanged or burned if she floated or left to drown if she did not. For example, when the Virginian-Pilot wrote about the origins of Witchduck Road in 1979, it printed: “God bless the soul of Grace Sherwood . . . if she drowned, she was innocent. If she floated, she was a witch.”60 These claims are hardly unique to Sherwood’s ducking; they draw on the long-standing belief that a trial by water always resulted in death.

Once she was tied, legend claims that Sherwood was taken to the boat and rowed into the river as raucous crowds chanted, “Duck the witch!”61 She was then thrown overboard and floated. While this should have resolved the matter, Sherwood’s tormenters were not content to duck her once. To confirm that she was a witch, she was submerged multiple times, often with something heavy tied around her neck.62 Today, the object is usually identified as a thirteen-pound Bible, though originally it was rumored to be a millstone. Legend does not explain why onlookers were willing to perform a potential act of sacrilege by using a Bible to weigh Sherwood down—it would have been destroyed by the water. Nevertheless, Sherwood being thrown in the Lynnhaven River with a Bible around her neck has been part of the legend since at least the early twentieth century. In 1920, the Virginian-Pilot claimed that it was Sherwood herself who recommended it. Exhibiting the mischievous streak that so many claim she possessed, she wanted to torment her “executioner.” He was frustrated that she would not remain under the water, and he tied a stone around her neck to ensure she would drown. Sensing his exasperation when even this attempt failed, Sherwood told him that only a Bible would work. She had “grown tired of playing [with] the honest sheriff and his virtuous assistants.”63

In a similar version of events shared with Betty Oliver in 1962, the sheriff used both a millstone and a Bible. The stone was used first in an attempt to “hasten the process. Three times she was thrown in, and three times she came up sitting on the millstone. She laughed and said, ‘The only thing that can make me stay down is a Bible.’” In this version of the tale, the Bible did not work either; instead, Sherwood simply untied herself. According to the person telling Oliver the story, the millstone was still on a farm in Witchduck.64 In some versions of the legend, once freed from her bonds, Sherwood did not just float but swam around the sheriff’s boat, mocking her accusers. According to Louisa Venable Kyle and others, Sherwood could not resist “singing one of her bewitching songs” and was “elated” to be “the undisputed center of attention.”65

These early variations drift closer to the fantastical than most modern ones. Not only is Sherwood as wily as when she asked for the pewter plates that allowed her to evade her captors, but listeners are meant to believe that she used magic to avoid drowning. While it is still commonly accepted that a Bible was tied around Sherwood’s neck, modern storytellers offer a more mundane explanation for her escape—she knew how to tie and untie knots.66 Many also argue that she could swim, which further explains why she did not sink. By some accounts she was an exceptional swimmer, the result of living so close to the water. For others, she only treaded water to stay afloat. When Gerry Richter of Ferry Plantation shares the story on tours of the house, she likes to joke, “Even I can dog-paddle.”67 In addition to helping to explain why Sherwood did not sink, each of these abilities also becomes another reminder of her unconventional way of life and iconoclastic personality.

When ending the legend, storytellers sometimes add one last bit of fantasy. They contend that Sherwood was so enraged by the sight of so many people coming to see her humiliation that she could not resist the urge to demonstrate her power. Told best by George Tucker, as she was taken to the boat, she shouted to the crowd: “All right, all of you po’ white trash, you’ve worn out your shoes trapsin’ here to see me ducked, but before you’ll get home again you are goin’ to get the duckin’ of your life.” Even though the sky was clear and blue, once Sherwood was put in the water, it turned black, and thunder and lightning began with intense ferocity. A torrential rain followed. As the crowd rushed to escape the incoming floodwaters produced by the storm, Tucker says that they heard “wild and mocking laughter,” though some contend that Sherwood “stood by calmly watching.”68 The story of Sherwood ducking the crowd first appeared in print in 1920. While it does not contain Tucker’s lively dialogue, it does claim that the “fury” of the storm “washed away” people and buildings alike.69 It is obvious from these versions that people are meant to believe that Sherwood conjured the storm that ducked her tormenters. In another effort to steer clear of a fantastical interpretation of events, modern storytellers sometimes offer a more grounded explanation for Sherwood’s prediction. She understood weather patterns and could see a storm brewing on the horizon.70

For onlookers, these actions definitively proved Sherwood’s guilt, and she was immediately taken to prison, where, according to legend, she was incarcerated for several years. Though most agree that she was there for nine years, others claim it was only for seven or eight.71 While many say she remained in the county jail during this period, some offer a more nuanced version of events. For example, when Gerry Richter shares Sherwood’s story, she explains that “the courthouse was wood, with a dirt floor, no insulation or heat, and no attendants to care for her. It would have been impossible to submit her to that type of treatment. No doubt she became kitchen and household help for nearby plantations and homes” during her sentence.72 Regardless of where and how Grace Sherwood was confined, legend claims she was only released once Virginia authorities came to their senses and realized the absurdity of the whole matter. Some even suggest that her neighbors were remorseful for their behavior, and most assert that Lieutenant Governor Spotswood restored her property as an act of restitution. His actions confirmed the injustice that occurred and offered Sherwood a belated vindication.73

Because Sherwood floated when she was ducked and is rumored to have spent years in jail, she is considered by most to be Virginia’s only “convicted” witch.74 Since Sherwood was long believed to be Virginia’s only witch, this claim is not surprising. Even though it is common knowledge that other trials occurred besides hers, she is still the most famous of the accused, and she will always be thought of as an exceptional case. The notion that Sherwood is the commonwealth’s only convicted witch obviously overlooks the conviction of William Harding, which is less known. Realizing that this notion might not be accurate, many qualify the statement. They hedge their bets by saying that she is the only woman in the region to have been convicted, or the only suspect convicted by ducking.

The idea that Sherwood is the region’s only convicted witch has moved beyond legend and is firmly entrenched in its collective memory. Nothing demonstrates this fact more than her plaque on Virginia Beach’s Virginia Legends Walk. This installation highlights the lives of exceptional Virginians from all walks of life, ranging from John Marshall to Patsy Cline. Grace Sherwood was added to it in 2007, when Virginia Beach allowed elementary school students to vote on their choice for the monument’s newest addition. Prominently featured on one of the entrances to the walk, Sherwood’s plaque reads that she was “found guilty of witchcraft” and remains “Virginia’s only convicted witch tried by water.”75 Even though these claims are drawn from long-standing tradition that cannot be substantiated by the surviving records, they are a testament to Grace Sherwood’s importance to the city and its people. Sherwood’s presence along the Virginia Legends Walk literally engraves her legend in stone for the resort city’s millions of visitors to see. Her plaque reveals that she is more than a historical figure or legend; she is an essential part of the city’s identity. Her status as a folk icon becomes even clearer when one considers the ways in which her legend has been intertwined within the city’s cultural landscape.

Part III

From Legend to Cultural Icon

7

Making the Witch of Pungo

By the start of the twentieth century, residents of Princess Anne County had been telling legends about Grace Sherwood for generations. Along the way, these stories became part of the county’s culture and consciousness. While they made for entertaining local lore, belief in witches nevertheless seemed like part of a world long since passed. One can only imagine everyone’s surprise when the county was once again filled with rumors of witchcraft in December 1923. Annie Taylor, a seventy-year-old African American sharecropper on the farm of C. C. Hudgins, was on trial for receiving stolen goods. Other tenants had been stealing livestock from Hudgins and giving the animals to Taylor as payment for spells and enchantments. Once the proceedings started, the focus of the trial quickly shifted from evidence about stolen goods to debates about Taylor’s supposed magical abilities. Fellow sharecropper Mamie Smith testified that the accused caused snakes to grow in her stomach when she did not pay Taylor for a healing spell. Smith claimed under oath that she could still feel the reptiles “crawling and wiggling” inside of her. Walter Johnson testified that when Taylor waved a stick over the head of his mule, it suddenly fell ill and died. A third witness, Lucy Brown, believed she had been similarly cursed. She accused Taylor of putting a bottle containing roots and hair under her doorstep. Ever since, she had been plagued by nightmares and could no longer bake. An exasperated Hudgins would only testify that Taylor had created a panic among his sixty tenants and confirmed that he had “lost a great many” animals.1

For many, Taylor’s trial was a bizarre spectacle that belonged in the seventeenth century, not the twentieth. In fact, her attorney spent most of his time attacking the witnesses for their “ignorance and superstition” rather than refuting the charges that his client had received stolen goods. In the end, Taylor was ordered to leave the county under a two-thousand-dollar bond. She was taken to the North Carolina border by a police escort tasked with making sure she left the county and to protect her from curious onlookers. Even though a crowd of more than two hundred supporters came to wish her well, a similar number came to jeer and shout.2

While Annie Taylor was on trial, few could resist comparing her to Grace Sherwood. When the Virginian-Pilot first broke the news of Taylor’s banishment, it reminded readers that Hudgins’s farm was near the same spot where “Grace Sherwood was ducked . . . in the waters of the Lynnhaven River.”3 As part of its coverage, the paper discussed the two trials side by side, weaving them together as if they were part of the same event. To make the parallels as strong as possible, it took several liberties with the truth. For example, the newspaper claimed that Sherwood was similarly banished from the county after her supposed conviction.4 The ways in which the memory of Sherwood’s ducking bled into the coverage of Annie Taylor’s trial reveal how deeply Grace Sherwood was enmeshed within the culture of Princess Anne County. Her significance only grew over the course of the twentieth century. As Princess Anne County became Virginia Beach, she became a cultural touchstone for the new city. Her legends became more than local lore; they became part of the city’s identity.

This process occurred thanks to the generations of people who kept Sherwood’s legend alive within the community. They told these tales to their children and grandchildren, who in turn passed the stories along to theirs. Equally important were the handful of individuals who collected these legends and embedded them within the region’s cultural memory. Local leaders, journalists, and amateur historians devoted to preserving Princess Anne County’s past became fierce protectors of Sherwood’s legacy. Considering her story an essential element of the county’s history, they collected these legends and shared them whenever they could. Their efforts ensured that the area’s expanding population remained aware of Witchduck’s witch and made Grace Sherwood’s story Princess Anne County’s. Along the way these storytellers became more than the protectors of Sherwood’s legacy; they became part of it.

W. H. T. Squires was one of the earliest of these devotees, retelling Sherwood legends across Hampton Roads in the first half of the twentieth century. In addition to being the minister of Knox Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Squires was an amateur historian whose book The Days of Yester-Year in Colony and Commonwealth helped to preserve the region’s oral history and folklore.5 It was incredibly popular when it was released in 1928, and it remained influential for decades. Squires described his work as a “sketch book,” telling the history of Virginia through a series of vignettes. These included a narrative of Grace Sherwood’s trial as well as other episodes from the commonwealth’s early history. The Virginian-Pilot praised The Days of Yester-Year for being a quaint piece of “Americana” written with a “lightness of touch” in an approachable and “informal manner.” The newspaper was particularly pleased with Squires’s ability to share Virginia’s history without overwhelming readers with “a swarm of documented facts” or boring them with dry prose.6

The Days of Yester-Year solidified Squires’s reputation as a master storyteller, and over the next twenty years he spoke with dozens of community groups and churches. Often taking place alongside literature readings and musical performances, Squires’s lectures recounted his favorite episodes from Virginia’s past, including Grace Sherwood’s ducking. Realizing how popular this tale was with audiences, advertisements for these events made sure to mention that Squires would discuss Princess Anne County’s infamous witch.7 During his lectures, Squires relied on the same folksy style he used in his book and leaned heavily on the uniqueness of the region’s history. For example, when discussing both Sherwood and Blackbeard the pirate with the Norfolk chapter of the Sons of the American Revolution in 1946, Squires coyly marveled that Hampton Roads might be the only place to have an “official pirate and an official witch living within its borders at the same time.”8 Thanks to his reputation, Squires was asked by Princess Anne County officials to offer remarks at the ceremony unveiling the portrait of John J. Burroughs at the county courthouse.9 Even though Squires only talked about Burroughs’s service to the county, he must have been pleased to share what he knew about the person most responsible for rediscovering the records of Sherwood’s trial. By the time Squires died in 1948, The Days of Yester-Year was essential reading for anyone interested in Grace Sherwood. In fact, people gave public readings of its chapter about her ducking through the 1950s.10

Around the same time The Days of Yester-Year was published, Benjamin Dey White released the short pamphlet Gleanings in the History of Princess Anne County. Only nineteen pages long, it collects episodes from Princess Anne County’s history. It begins with a brief overview of the founding of the county and a description of its early churches, schools, and towns before moving on to the trial of Grace Sherwood. White mostly relies on the court records already transcribed by Burroughs and James to tell the story, reprinting them almost in their entirety. All in all, he devotes seven pages to the matter, far more than any other topic in the pamphlet.11 Louisa Venable Kyle once suggested that White’s interest in Sherwood’s trial resulted from his vocation—he was the circuit court judge for Princess Anne County for thirty-eight years, from 1908 until his death in 1946.12 Kyle might be partially right. The case had a unique appeal to the judge, who liked to talk about it with his colleagues. In fact, the secretary of the Norfolk Bar Association, believing a ducking stool was used to submerge Sherwood, once joked that a gavel should be made from it for the organization. White lamented that if the stool existed, it would have long since disappeared. Intrigued by the suggestion, however, he had a local student carve a gavel from wood taken from the stump of a walnut tree near where Sherwood was rumored to have lived. He presented it with much fanfare to the Bar Association in 1938.13

At the same time, it was more than his “love of the law” that piqued White’s interest in Grace Sherwood. As a member of one of the county’s most established families, he was devoted to the preservation of its history.14 This commitment was best demonstrated by White’s efforts to save Old Donation Episcopal Church. The church, built in the eighteenth century, traces its origins to the founding of Lynnhaven Parish and Princess Anne County. It fell into disrepair in the middle of the nineteenth century and was largely a ruin when White and others began its restoration in 1912.15 Because of its proximity to the courthouse in use at the time of Sherwood’s trial, the church was closely linked to stories about it. As a result, the church’s parish has incorporated many elements of Sherwood’s tale into its history. After the church was restored, one of its prized possessions was a silver service donated by Maximilian Boush, Sherwood’s prosecutor. When tour guides showed these pieces to visitors, they invariably discussed Boush’s role in the trial and Sherwood herself.16 The church’s commitment to preserving Sherwood’s legend only deepened as time when on. When the Virginian-Pilot interviewed White’s widow in 1966 for an article discussing the fiftieth anniversary of the church’s reconsecration, she regaled reporters with stories about Sherwood. Even though she was in her nineties by that point, the tales still “lived vividly” in her mind.17

The restoration of Old Donation Church is the best example of Benjamin Dey White’s commitment to preserving Princess Anne County’s history. His work to save White Acre, one of the area’s historic houses, shows that this dedication and his fascination with Sherwood’s legend were deeply personal. White had lived in White Acre as a child, and when he returned to the county as a judge, he was saddened to see that the Georgian-style home had fallen into disrepair. White bought and restored it in 1911. The centerpiece of the renovated White Acre was its well-tended gardens populated by peacocks, geese, and ducks.18 Eager to punctuate the landscape with a unique focal point, White added a fence rumored to have belonged to Grace Sherwood. It was on the same land as the walnut stump White used for the Norfolk Bar Association’s gavel. When the judge heard the owner intended to take down the “hand-riven cypress” fence, he rushed to get a section of it. He brought it back to White Acre and put it in his rose garden.19 For decades, when White and his wife opened the house to the public for home and garden tours, hundreds of visitors rushed to see the fence rumored to have belonged to the Grace Sherwood. It was always mentioned in advertisements for these tours, and the Whites never missed an opportunity to tell their favorite Sherwood legends to the visitors who came to see their gardens.20 Admittedly, accepting that the fence once belonged to Grace Sherwood required a suspension of disbelief. Even if there was a way of knowing with certainty that Sherwood owned the land in question, a wooden fence would not have survived almost three hundred years. White’s widow acknowledged as much.21 This admission did little to diminish the fence’s appeal, and it provided a chance for people to spread Sherwood’s legend for decades.

Figure 12. Elizabeth White in front of the fence rumored to have belonged to Grace Sherwood. (Courtesy of Virginia Wesleyan University)

At times these opportunities presented themselves in unlikely ways. In 1955, “A Country Woman’s Scrapbook,” a column appearing in the Virginian-Pilot, discussed the charm that fences could bring to homes. In doing so, it mentioned that “Princess Anne County’s most interesting fence now is in the rose garden at White Acre. . . . Two centuries ago this fence surrounded the herb garden that belonged to Grace Sherwood, the famous witch, who lived near Pungo.”22 This blend of homemaking advice and local tradition was a quintessential element of “A Country Woman’s Scrapbook.” Written by Louisa Venable Kyle, it offered advice on gardening, cooking, and homemaking while sharing Kyle’s appreciation for the county’s culture and history.23

Grace Sherwood particularly interested Kyle, who never missed an opportunity to mention the suspected witch whenever she could. In many cases, the topics covered by “A Country Woman’s Scrapbook” lent themselves to these digressions. While writing about the Lynnhaven River, it was easy to mention the “most famous trial” that took place at the courthouse near its banks. If Kyle were discussing the importance of the Moseley family to the county, it was understandable that she would explain that one of its members was a justice during Sherwood’s trial.24 But she also found ways to fold the story into seemingly irrelevant topics. In 1954, when she wrote a column on horses and horse racing in Princess Anne County, she reminded readers that Grace Sherwood had a “poor, mangy, and scabby” horse.25 Thanks to these efforts, Louisa Venable Kyle was soon recognized as a Grace Sherwood authority, an honor she shared with fellow columnist George Tucker.

Like Kyle, Tucker was fond of sharing at least one tale about Sherwood whenever he could. Sometimes he devoted entire columns to the stories he had heard; just as often they were included as an aside to its main topic. As in “A Country Woman’s Scrapbook,” these inclusions were often relevant to the subject at hand. For example, in a column about the Boush family, Tucker described Maximilian Boush’s role as the prosecutor of Sherwood’s trial.26 At other times, Tucker seems as though he was looking for a chance to share his favorite story about Sherwood. He once used a column discussing International Cat Week to recall that Elizabeth Barnes once accused Sherwood of transforming into a cat. Even stranger, when reflecting on the achievements of astronaut John Glenn, Tucker pivoted to the story of Sherwood using pewter plates to fly. He ended by joking that Princess Anne County had its own astronaut centuries before Glenn.27

Tucker also enjoyed sharing a story from neighboring Norfolk, allowing him to tie Grace Sherwood to his hometown. At first glance, this connection seems difficult to make since she did not have ties to the city. Tucker found a way. According to him, the Van Wyck library in Norfolk’s Ghent neighborhood had its own Grace Sherwood. This elderly woman lived nearby in “a cold-water flat with a large collection of feline companions” and was fond of wearing “high-laced tennis shoes” as part of her “bizarre get-ups.” She also claimed she was the reincarnation of the Princess Anne County witch. Eager to relive her exploits, the woman frequently came to the library to read its reference file on Grace Sherwood. One afternoon, a “hoity-toity young matron” requested the Sherwood file for her child’s homework. The old woman, frustrated someone had taken it, started reading over the mother’s shoulder. At some point, the would-be Sherwood began laughing and said, “Damned right . . . I really gave ’em hell down there in Princess Anne, didn’t I?” The young mother promptly ran out of the library.28

Both George Tucker and Louisa Venable Kyle solidified their reputations as local experts on Grace Sherwood by writing books on local history and folklore.29 They also spoke with local groups and were even consulted by researchers. When archaeologist Floyd Painter discovered a witch bottle along the Lynnhaven River, he invited Tucker to the site to see it. Painter even credits the columnist with figuring out the bottle’s purpose and connecting it to Grace Sherwood. Overlooking the prevalence of such charms during the seventeenth century, Tucker believed that fear of Sherwood’s power was the only reason a local farmer would have buried it on his property. When Painter wanted to learn more about Sherwood herself, he went to Kyle, who shared the legends included in the article about his discovery.30 Tucker was also consulted by F. Roy Johnson for his book on witches in American folklore. In its introduction, Johnson notes that he was “especially proud” to have a chapter written by a member of the “folklore elite, George H. Tucker of Norfolk, Virginia, who tells of the feats of Grace Sherwood, Virginia’s most famous witch.”31 Through their writing and work with the community, Kyle and Tucker helped to spread Sherwood’s legend and moved it from oral folklore into print. At the same time, because their versions of these stories were so ubiquitous, they became a standardized canon, influencing the way those stories were told by later generations.

Both authors were writing at a time when Princess Anne County was going through enormous changes. Beginning in the 1950s, new residential developments brought an influx of residents to the county. This growth only intensified when Princess Anne County merged with the small resort town of Virginia Beach in 1963.32 What had once been a rural community with deeply rooted families was becoming a large city dominated by suburban sprawl. Nothing symbolizes this transformation more than the development of Witchduck itself. In 1964, the 60-acre Witchduck Farm was sold to developers who built several dozen homes.33 Similar construction followed on nearby farms, turning the area into an upper-middle-class neighborhood. Developers quickly realized that Grace Sherwood would charm potential buyers, and homeowners welcomed the opportunity to become so connected to the history and folklore of their new hometown.

Thanks to these efforts to capitalize on Witchduck’s storied history, Sherwood’s presence can be found throughout the area. In fact, one of the developers became so intrigued by her story that he kept a copy of her will in his office. He freely admitted that part of the neighborhood’s appeal was that it allowed people to live so close to where she was ducked. Since no one knew precisely where that point was, every homeowner could claim they lived on the exact spot where it happened.34 Womble Realty made the most of this fact as it advertised homes in the neighborhood in 1973. It invited potential buyers to see which home in Witch Duck Point “bewitched them most” and to imagine living there “on a moonlight night” and watching “the ghost of Grace Sherwood [swim] off [their] bulkhead.”35 Another said that “on a clear day” homeowners “can see ships entering the capes. On a misty day [people] will think [they] see William Tatham spying on the British Fleet of 1807. On a moonlight night Grace Sherwood practices witchcraft on [their] lawn. Where else can you find History, Folklore, and comfortable living so well blended?”36

Residents themselves have made the most of the area’s reputation. Ghost stories and other supernatural tales developed among locals almost as quickly as the new neighborhoods did. Some have claimed to see “a spot of light dancing on Witch Duck Bay” in July, around the time Sherwood was ducked. Others have even said that they have encountered the spirit of Sherwood herself.37 While most of these stories are brief, Bob Perrine, the church historian for Old Donation Episcopal Church, has shared a more elaborate tale about Witchduck’s dancing lights. He heard that during the War of 1812, three local militiamen helped to capture an English ship off the coast of Cape Henry on July 10, the same day Sherwood had been ducked over a century before. Their spirits return each year to relive their triumph, led by the “moving light” of Grace Sherwood, who was rumored to have been a “great sailor” herself. After all, she could sail to England in a single night in nothing more than an eggshell.38 Stories like these have been shared by locals for decades, adapting and changing over time. Even though similar tales of mysterious lights and ghostly visits can be found anywhere in the country, the way in which they draw on Witchduck’s connection to Grace Sherwood grounds them to the area. These ties, in turn, help to connect people to their families, their neighbors, and their hometown. These stories were then popularized and standardized once writers began publishing them over the course of the twentieth century, allowing them to reach new audiences.

As essential as these collections were to preserving legends about Grace Sherwood, few have had the same impact as Louisa Venable Kyle’s The Witch of Pungo and Other Historical Stories of the Early Colonies. First published in 1973, Kyle’s children’s book transformed the way people talked about Grace Sherwood and helped to make her a cultural icon in Virginia Beach. It also solidified Kyle’s status as a legend in her own right, making her the matronly protector of local traditions. The Witch of Pungo was the culmination of Kyle’s decades-long interest in the lore, history, and heritage of Tidewater, and her work on it began as a favor for Louise Luxford, an administrator for Virginia Beach public schools.39 When Luxford read a Christmas story about Adam Thoroughgood that Kyle had written for the Virginian-Pilot, Luxford asked her if she would be willing to narrate and record similar stories that could be played in the city’s elementary schools. Luxford realized that teachers did not have many resources for lessons about local history and thought Kyle’s tales would be invaluable to them.40

As Kyle recorded her stories, she realized their potential, and those tapes became the foundation for The Witch of Pungo. While the chapter on Sherwood is the book’s most famous, it also shares local Native American legends, stories about Adam Thoroughgood and Blackbeard, and a tale about the Cape Henry Lighthouse. Each chapter not only tells these stories but also includes historical background.41 Kyle printed the book herself and distributed it with the help of her neighbors. Even though it had an initial print run of five thousand copies, by the 1990s it had sold more than twenty thousand. The book became an instant classic, and for decades it was used in local schools, just as Luxford had hoped.42 Because of this success, Kyle’s version of Sherwood’s legend became so intertwined with historical reality that they are now inseparable. It was through The Witch of Pungo that Grace Sherwood’s reputation as a beautiful, unconventional woman who wore men’s clothes and danced in her fields became rooted in the popular imagination. When Kyle died in October 1999 at the age of ninety-six, Stephen Mansfield, a history professor and archivist for Virginia Wesleyan University, reflected on this legacy. He remarked that “the purist would say there’s always the danger that what becomes a wonderful story will distort history. It’s a risk that is offset by the interest in history that is generated.”43 Most admirers of Kyle’s book would agree.

Figure 13. Louisa Venable Kyle presenting her books to Lambuth Clarke, president of Virginia Wesleyan College. (Courtesy of Virginia Wesleyan University)

Long out of print, it remains a cherished possession, with local libraries and residents alike proudly displaying their autographed copies.44 Nothing illustrates its enduring significance more than the fact that it is often the first source most people turn to when they want to learn about Grace Sherwood, even though it is a children’s book.45 In fact, when I first started collecting Sherwood stories from Virginia Beach residents, I was told on more than one occasion that I did not need to do anything more than read Kyle’s book. It would tell me everything I needed to know. Perhaps the best way to understand the extraordinary impact The Witch of Pungo has had in shaping Sherwood’s legend is the name of the book itself. Ever since its publication, Grace Sherwood has been exclusively known as “The Witch of Pungo.” Before that, she was referred to as “The Virginia Witch,” “Virginia’s Only Witch,” or was broadly linked to Princess Anne County. While it was well known that she lived near Pungo, she was more commonly associated with Witchduck. The most popular and enduring legends about Sherwood also came from this part of the county. Kyle herself does not appear to have settled on the name “The Witch of Pungo” until her book was published. In “A Country Woman’s Scrapbook,” she only referred to Grace Sherwood as “the famous witch who lived near Pungo.”46 The Witch of Pungo reoriented Sherwood’s legacy from Witchduck to where she once lived, a connection that shows no sign of weakening.

It is easy to understand why the legend of Grace Sherwood has resonated as powerfully as it has and become such an essential part of the area’s identity. Thanks to its rapid development and strong military presence, the overwhelming majority of Virginia Beach’s population are either first- or second-generation residents. As a result, they do not have the deep-rooted ties to the area that previous generations had. On more than one occasion, many of those new to the city must have encountered a certain degree of derision from longtime locals. George Tucker, for example, enjoyed poking fun at “out-of-state” reporters who were unaware of the region’s culture and folklore.47 Dorothy Robbins of the Virginian-Pilot channeled these frustrations into Grace Sherwood’s legend itself when she referred to the Sherwoods a “hard working, honest couple” who were “new in the neighborhood.” Because they were not from Princess Anne County, they were distrusted by their unwelcoming neighbors.48 Robbins’s assessment ignores the fact that Grace Sherwood’s family had been in the area longer than many of her accusers. Nevertheless, it must have resonated with newcomers who might have felt a twinge of hostility from those who had been in the county for generations.

Hearing and then telling stories about the Witch of Pungo helped these residents feel more connected to their new homes. It tied them to something uniquely “Virginia Beach.” The more Grace Sherwood became embedded within the city’s culture, the stronger this connection became. Louisa Venable Kyle’s obituary recognized the importance of these ties, and the role she played in forging them, when it credited her with giving a “young, transient community roots.”49 Kyle would have appreciated the compliment. In 1992, as she reflected on her life, she acknowledged that she moved to Princess Anne County because she “wanted . . . a home of my own.” Her interest in its culture, history, and folklore came from her desire to feel connected to that home.50

Kyle was not alone; for many longtime locals, Sherwood’s legend is a way of maintaining these bonds. Virginia Beach’s transformation in the second half of the twentieth century was dizzying for those who experienced it. Over the course of a few decades, farms became suburban neighborhoods, small dirt roads became congested multilane highways, and a once remote rural county became the largest city in the commonwealth. While these changes brought opportunities that were unimaginable for previous generations, they also caused some to feel as though they were losing what made their home their home. Legends about Grace Sherwood not only offered a thread binding the modern city of Virginia Beach to Princess Anne County; they connected longtime residents to the previous generations that told them.

Nowhere is this impact clearer than in the Pungo/Back Bay area of Virginia Beach, which has fully embraced “The Witch of Pungo.” Protected from development by the city’s “green line,” this area maintains the rural character that defined Princess Anne County prior to the 1960s. In fact, many longtime residents still simply refer to it as “the county.” Doing so helps to avoid the inevitable challenge that comes from deciding what to call it. For those living in other parts of the city, this entire rural area is commonly thought of as Pungo, though many locals object to this generalization.51 While all of it shares the same rural character, it has several different sections, including Back Bay, Creeds, Sandbridge, and Pungo. William Whitehurst, a longtime resident, playfully elaborated on this debate in several of his collections of stories about Pungo. He realized that the name was confusing since for some it referred to a small community that sat along a single intersection, whereas to others it was everything “from Sandbridge Road to North Carolina.”52 He even found evidence that people were asking, “Where is Pungo?” as early as 1870. That year, the Norfolk Journal had a headline asking that simple question. In recent times, Joe Burroughs, another longtime resident, answered the question by calling Pungo “the capital of Virginia Beach.”53 Burroughs’s quip reflects the local pride most inhabitants have for the area, as well as the sense that they represent the “real” Virginia Beach.

Even though residential developments have creeped past the “green line” in recent years, Pungo-proper was still considered by a recent architectural survey to be “an excellent example of a well-preserved early twentieth-century village.” The village itself has existed since at least the nineteenth century and became an important railway hub connecting trains to steamboats and the coast. By the 1920s, it had one hundred residents, two mechanics, a fish-packing plant, stores, and a Ford service agency.54 While these businesses have come and gone, the essential character of Pungo has remained the same.

Today, it is most well-known for its annual Strawberry Festival. Over Memorial Day weekend, the normally quiet intersection of “Pungo Village” is filled with close to 200,000 people who are there to sample local strawberries and enjoy local arts and crafts, music, “homestyle food,” pony rides, and carnival rides. They can also enjoy events like pie-eating contests and a dessert cook-off judged by local celebrities. Also attending are charities that set up booths to share information about their organizations and to raise money. Many of these charities also benefit from the money raised by the festival. As a nonprofit event, it donates thousands of dollars each year to these groups as well as scholarships to local students. Since it began in 1983, the Strawberry Festival has raised well over a million dollars, a point of pride for its organizers.55

When the festival began, few imagined it would be so successful. According to Judy White, a local restaurant owner, the original idea for the festival was born in the Pungo Beauty Shop. There, local farmers began discussing ways to “liven up” the area.56 Considering the popularity of its strawberries, everyone quickly decided the fruit would inspire the event. Jack Burroughs, who owned Pungo Produce with her husband and one of the event’s founders, also hoped that the festival would help local farmers sell their strawberries and other crops. To make it as family-friendly as possible, organizers decided the event would be alcohol-free, and even convinced local stores to suspend the sale of beer and wine while it was taking place. The first Strawberry Festival was scheduled for a single Saturday, with vendors lined up along one sidewalk. According to Burroughs, they expected around five thousand people; instead, twenty thousand came, “ate up everything,” and “left happy.” As White recalls, the vendors had sold all their food by 11:00 a.m.57 The Strawberry Festival was a hit.

While everyone was excited by its success, it brought challenges as well. Pungo streets are only one lane in each direction, and the “village” only has one streetlight. As one would expect, parking is limited, consisting of a handful of small lots for area businesses. Managing the traffic created by tens of thousands of people coming in and out of Pungo each day, finding appropriate parking, and selecting a space large enough for the festival requires substantial logistical planning. More than sixty people work throughout the year securing permits and insurance, hiring security, organizing vendors, and finding sponsors. Many take time off from work in the weeks and days leading up to Memorial Day to make sure nothing has been overlooked.58 Unlike its first year, the booths no longer stand along a single sidewalk; instead, the festival utilizes open fields in the area to make sure there is plenty of room for vendors, rides, and people. Since the most significant challenge is parking, organizers have tried to limit congestion, though most attendees do not mind braving the traffic to enjoy the festivities.59

Considering these challenges, the Strawberry Festival has the potential to be a nuisance and requires patience from Pungo residents, whose lives are upended during the holiday weekend. The founders realized this from the beginning, even when they assumed only five thousand people would come. To get local support for the festival, they tried to make it as uniquely “Pungo” as possible. Every part of it is rooted in country life to reflect the area’s rural character. To further integrate the community into the event, each year organizers select an area high school student to design the festival’s poster. They also recognize locals for their contributions to the community by awarding them honorary titles and inviting them to be part of the festival’s parade. These dignitaries are also on hand throughout the weekend to greet attendees. The parade is led by a grand marshal who is usually a local leader or celebrity. For its first year, planners wanted the grand marshal to be someone who embodied the area’s traditions, and selected Louisa Venable Kyle.60 Joining the grand marshal is the honorary mayor and first lady of Pungo.

While these titles were an important way to recognize members of the Pungo community, they are part of most festivals. The Strawberry Festival’s founders wanted a dignitary who could only be found in Pungo. Turning to its “most famous resident,” they decided to name an “Honorary Witch of Pungo.” According to Anne Bright, who served as the honorary witch in 1999 and has been on the dignitary selection committee for several years, the honorary witch helped sell the festival to reluctant residents because “locals knew the stories, it was something all of them would recognize, and it would help them feel like the festival resonated with the community. It incorporated local history and made it feel more rooted in the traditions of the community.”61 The criterion for selecting the honorary witch is the same as that of the other dignitaries. Most have a long history of volunteer work, and many have helped organize the festival itself. At least eight of the honorary witches were either employees or volunteers at local schools, five of them at nearby Creeds Elementary. Almost all of them have helped local charities and churches.62 On more than one occasion, the title has been a family affair, going to multiple members of the same family over the years. JoAnne Stutzman served as the thirteenth witch, and her sister, Mary Ellen Brinkley, was the twenty-sixth. Betty Waterfield and her daughter, Robin Lee, were both honorary witches. Alice Flanagan was selected in 1990, and years later her son was named the honorary mayor.63

Flanagan, who was eighty-four when she was picked, embodied the festival’s efforts to remain rooted in the community. A lifelong resident of Pungo, she witnessed firsthand its transformation over the course of the twentieth century. As a child she walked to school, and she did not have electricity or plumbing until she and her husband bought their first house. Throughout her life, she claimed to have never bought an egg, relying instead on her own chickens. When the Virginian-Pilot interviewed her the year she was selected as the festival’s honorary witch, she noted that she used a basket to collect those eggs; using her apron seemed too “backwoodsy.” As she reflected on her home, she said that she hoped the area kept its “rustic charm” and that she appreciated that the Strawberry Festival promoted Pungo and shared what made it so special. Given the circumstances, she considered it an honor to be called a witch.64 This has been the consensus reached by the modern witches of Pungo. Mary Brinkley, who was the honorary witch in 2009, has similarly remarked that “only in Pungo is it an honor to be called a witch.” Anne Bright has observed that the only people who would look at the title as an insult are those who do not know the history of Pungo.65 It is obvious the community agrees. Although on rare occasion the nominated witch has declined the invitation because she was worried about its association with witchcraft, most see it as an honor and a privilege. In fact, one nominee refused the recognition because she felt she had not done enough to earn it.66

The identity of the witch is a closely guarded secret until organizers announce it at a press conference a few weeks before the festival. When Paula Knight was selected as the honorary witch in 2013, she did not even tell her husband. He found out with everyone else at the press conference when she got out of a limo, dressed in a black gown, wearing a conical hat, and carrying a broom.67 In press events, it is common for the honorary witch to make lighthearted comments about her selection. JoAnne Stutzman, for example, promised to “stay out of the cow pastures and not turn the milk sour! And we’re bound to have good weather too!”68 Ensuring good weather appears to be the honorary witch’s primary responsibility. Almost every year, the honoree vows to use her magic to bring sunshine over Memorial Day weekend, though on more than one occasion her powers have not been potent enough to prevent rain.69

At the event itself, each honorary witch can pick how she wants to embody the role. Bright says the selection committee encourages those selected to dress in colonial garb, with many using the same pattern to make their festival garments. There is still plenty of room for personalization. While Bright made her traditional dress from fabric adorned with a strawberry pattern, Judy Doyle decided to wear colonial-style pants, a peasant shirt, and shoes with a buckle as a nod to Sherwood’s supposed preference for men’s clothes.70 Some have opted to wear contemporary clothing decorated with strawberry designs, and one year a younger witch created a stir by wearing a conical hat, short skirt, and fishnets.71 On several occasions, the floats and decorations used during the parade have drawn from Sherwood’s legend, further deepening the festival’s connection to Pungo’s folklore. The first honorary witch, Jack Burroughs, rode in a float shaped like an eggshell, and in 1988, the witch’s float had a banner that proclaimed “No Witch Ducking.”72 Many witches also use their time to share stories about Grace Sherwood. Not only do they hand out information cards, but they answer questions from curious attendees. When Ann Henley was the honorary witch in 2001, she remembers that many children asked her, “Why do you want to be a witch?” She explained that Sherwood was not really a witch and helped them to realize that she was a good, but misunderstood person.73 The Pungo Strawberry Festival has been on hiatus since 2020 due the COVID-19 pandemic and the logistical challenges in resuming its operation. Organizers and longtime supporters are hopeful, however, that the event will be back without further delays. When it resumes, attendees can be sure the honorary witch of Pungo will be there to greet them.

The Pungo Strawberry Festival has deepened the connection between Grace Sherwood and the area. As one observer has remarked, she is so important to Pungo that she has become a “kind of patron saint.”74 In recent years, local businesses have been eager to draw on Sherwood’s magic. Generally timed for Halloween, they have sold products and held events inspired by her legend. When nearby Henley Farm hosted an annual Pumpkin Fling in the early 2000s, it invited the Strawberry Festival’s honorary witch, descendants of Grace Sherwood herself, and women who portrayed Sherwood at local historic houses to attend. The farm also sold artwork depicting the legendary witch.75 Back Bay Brewing Company, a local brewery, began releasing their “Witch of Pungo” pumpkin ale in 2016. The company draws on local inspiration for many of its beers, and when it was looking to create a pumpkin ale for October, Grace Sherwood seemed to be a natural fit. As a nod to her rumored love of spices, the “Witch of Pungo” ale has hints of cinnamon and nutmeg, helping it to taste like pumpkin pie. George Powell, the brewery’s owner, said that it was important for them, as a local business, to have products that reflect the city’s history. In doing so, he likes to think the brewery will help people who are new to the area learn something about it.76

This same desire inspired Blue Pete’s Restaurant to host an annual “Witch of Pungo Fest” in recent years. Located along the same Muddy Creek where Sherwood is rumored to have lived, Blue Pete’s has been a regional institution since it opened in 1978. The restaurant has long drawn on Muddy Creek’s ties to Sherwood to boost its appeal among locals and to entice others in the city to drive out to it for the evening. In 1981, a review of the restaurant opined that “driving through the wilds of Pungo on a moonless night, the wind howling and beating the swamp grass on either side of the winding road—it’s easy to imagine the fabled witch of Pungo sailing overhead.”77 In 2006, it offered a birthday party for Sherwood, hosted by the Princess Anne County/Virginia Beach Historical Society.78

Blue Pete’s embrace of Sherwood and her connection to the area has only strengthened over time, culminating in its first Witch of Pungo Fest in 2021. The restaurant’s manager, Hylin McAndrews, wanted to have a special event timed for the Halloween season that could strengthen the restaurant’s ties with the community. She decided to hold the event in mid-October so the rural restaurant would not have to compete with other festivities occurring closer to Halloween in the more populated parts of the city. Her goal was to create a lighthearted, family-friendly event that offered a “little bit of spookiness.” Much like Back Bay Brewing Company, she realized that the Witch of Pungo was a natural fit for the event. The first Witch of Pungo Fest had a medium who gave psychic readings to attendees as well as unique menu offerings. Among these specials was the “Witch of Pungo,” a signature drink made with gin and St. Germain elderflower and served with a sprig of rosemary. The ingredients were inspired by Sherwood’s reputation as an herbalist as well as the legend of her sailing to bring rosemary to the area. McAndrews hopes to expand the event in the coming years, in particular she would like to have a reenactor portray Sherwood for guests.79 While obviously inspired by the legend of Grace Sherwood, the Witch of Pungo Fest and the Witch of Pungo pumpkin ale are more a reflection of how deeply Sherwood has been woven into the region’s culture and identity.

In this way, the Witch of Pungo has joined other legends like the Jersey Devil, the Sharlie Lake Monster of McCall, Idaho, and the sasquatch-like Woodbooger of Norton, Virginia, who have experienced a similar transformation. Over the past few decades, it has been common for communities to transform figures from their folklore into a kind of local mascot. Depicted in public art, used to sell local kitsch, and featured in community festivals, these legends have become sources of regional pride.80 Of course, there is an important difference between these folkloric creatures and Grace Sherwood—she actually existed. The fact that she has nevertheless joined these mythic figures and become a symbol of local pride only speaks to how deeply her legend has become intertwined with Virginia Beach’s identity and culture.

8

Cry Witch and Other Reenactments

Imagine being able to tell coworkers and friends, “I convicted a witch,” when they ask, “What did you do this weekend?” According to a 2004 advertisement for Colonial Williamsburg’s “Colonial Escape Package,” this conversation was possible for visitors who attended a performance of Cry Witch. In this show, audience members were more than spectators; they were the jury that decided the fate of Grace Sherwood, who stood “accused of the black arts in the re-creation of this real-life trial.” Only they could decide if “18th-century evidence [would] send her to the gallows” or if “21st-century wisdom [would] prevail.” To help set the tone of the show, the advertisement included a sketch depicting a colonial trial and another of an old woman holding a walking stick and wearing a tall conical hat.1 This woman, labeled “Grace Sherwood,” was what most people expected a witch to look like, and it was a far cry from the alluring beauty imagined by the folklore of Princess Anne County and Virginia Beach. Nevertheless, Cry Witch proves that Grace Sherwood’s cultural appeal reaches beyond where she once called home. It has been one of Colonial Williamsburg’s most popular programs since it debuted in 1988, and it remains the most successful reenactment of Sherwood’s trial to date.

Figure 14. Advertisement for Cry Witch. (Courtesy of the Corporate Archives, John D. Rockefeller Jr. Library, the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation)

The success of Cry Witch is notable since there is no evidence that the trial it re-creates happened. In fact, it is doubtful that Grace Sherwood ever went to Williamsburg for any reason. Moreover, when Sherwood was ducked, Williamsburg bore little resemblance to the restored historic area visitors see. It had only recently become the capital of Virginia after Jamestown was burned during Bacon’s Rebellion in 1676. When it was selected, the town had only a few small wooden houses, a church, and the Wren Building of the College of William and Mary.2 The colony’s new capitol building had just been built when Luke Hill petitioned the governor’s council, and construction of the governor’s palace, one of Colonial Williamsburg’s most notable landmarks, did not begin until after Sherwood’s trial. Most of Williamsburg’s most famous houses were built after 1710, and it did not become the bustling, albeit small, town visitors are transported to until the mid-eighteenth century.3 Considering the fact that Colonial Williamsburg depicts aspects of Virginia life over the course of the eighteenth century, it would be impossible for it to look exactly as it did at every stage of its development. Instead, the museum tries to provide a generalized, yet authentic, atmosphere and setting.

Restoration efforts began in the 1920s, thanks to the financial support of John D. Rockefeller Jr. By this time only a few colonial houses remained standing, and those that did had been extensively modified. To re-create Williamsburg’s colonial appearance, houses built after 1790 were demolished while researchers scoured archives and libraries for building designs, maps, drawings, and anything else that revealed what the city looked like during the eighteenth century. Important structures, like the governor’s palace, the capitol building, and hospital were reconstructed using these records; and surviving homes were painstakingly restored to approximate their eighteenth-century appearance.4 When completed, the area became an open-space “living museum” that offered visitors an immersive experience. Essential to this experience are the dozens of reenactors who bring Colonial Williamsburg to life. They depict a range of characters, from famous Virginians like Thomas Jefferson and Patrick Henry, to average people. The goal is to provide an accurate representation of colonial life. For Rockefeller and many of Colonial Williamsburg’s creators, the hope was that visitors would develop a greater appreciation for the country’s founding as well.

The performances at Colonial Williamsburg have a surreal quality to them. They aim to re-create the past in a thoroughly modern world. Visitors riding in a horse-drawn carriage stop at intersections to let buses and cars drive by. With their cell phones, they record people in colonial costumes discussing their “colonial” lives. They interrupt their visits to the past with stops at well-maintained bathrooms and to eat in modern restaurants. Even if the experience were totally immersive, it would still rely on twenty-first-century people to make it happen. This cognitive dissonance is not unique to Colonial Williamsburg; instead, it is a feature of all reenactments. By their nature, they create an imagined history more than a re-creation of it. The impression visitors have about the past when they leave is the result of dozens of personal decisions that determine how it is depicted.5 Just as stories about true events gradually become legends, these reenactments reflect our historical memory more than history itself.

Reenactments, historical performances, and public exhibits, like those created by Colonial Williamsburg, are also shaped by the fact that they have to be interesting enough for people to want to see them. This is true even for free events. Public history cannot fulfill its educational purpose without engaging with the public. As a result, these programs are commonly referred to as educational entertainment, or “edutainment.” The programs at Colonial Williamsburg are a perfect example of this phenomenon. In October it has sold a “Ghosts and Legends Package” that offers dinner at “an 18th century tavern” followed by a “lantern-guided ghost tour.” Afterward, guests are encouraged to see Cry Witch, a perfect companion to these Halloween-themed activities. The play has also been pitched to parents looking for an exciting, but educational, night with their teens.6 The prevalence and popularity of programs like these would have surprised earlier visitors and residents. Writing in the 1930s, Williams Stevens lamented that for such an old town, Williamsburg was “shockingly devoid of ghosts.”7 Over the past seventy years, Colonial Williamsburg has unearthed these spirits and fully incorporated them into its programs. The organization is hardly alone in doing so.

Recently, ghost tours, haunted walks, and programs like Cry Witch have become a multimillion-dollar industry. There is hardly a city or town in the United States that does not offer these activities to tourists and locals alike. Equally popular are books that collect local ghost stories. There are more than 350 of these collections published as part of the History Press’s Haunted America book series alone.8 On the surface, these books, ghost tours, and performances appear to be nothing more than entertainment, but they are increasingly becoming the way that many people learn about local history. Each story about a haunted house, ghostly apparition, or strange phenomenon becomes a way for spectators and readers to engage with the past. As with legends, these tales contain little more than a hint of truth, and “facts” are always adapted to fit the narrative aims of the storyteller. This reality does not diminish the popularity of these stories. It also does not stop people from using these activities as a way to learn about history.9

For organizations like Colonial Williamsburg, the challenge is to use ghost stories and legends in a way that enhances their educational mission. Grace Sherwood’s story threads that needle perfectly. The possibility of learning about a “real” colonial witch entices visitors to attend Cry Witch, giving Colonial Williamsburg the opportunity to teach them about the colonial justice system. As Colette McKown, one of Cry Witch’s directors, has explained, “The ideas of witchcraft and witches and spells are fascinating to our guests. They’re expecting more of a Salem-type situation. They are surprised when they find that it is actually a real trial—with a jury deciding her fate—rather than an immediate condemnation of a woman.”10 Abigail Schumann, who has also directed the show and has performed as Grace Sherwood, offers a similar reflection. She explains that marketing campaigns bring people in, but they do not influence the performance itself. The show’s ultimate purpose is to “teach people about the past and the way trials operated.”11

This potential is what motivated the show’s creator, Carson Hudson Jr., to write it in the first place. For years he had portrayed a half-dozen different characters for Colonial Williamsburg and Jamestown, and he realized there was a strong demand for compelling and interactive programs.12 He decided that a courtroom performance depicting a witch trial would meet this need. Since he was working in Jamestown when he began work on Cry Witch in 1979, he initially wrote the play about Joan Wright’s trial from 1626. Since Jamestown did not host evening events, its program directors passed on the project. A few years later, Hudson moved over to Colonial Williamsburg, and after seeing that they had other performances based on colonial trials, he decided to dust off Cry Witch. Because the show would have to take place in eighteenth-century Williamsburg, he needed to rework the script he had written years earlier. Wright’s trial, which occurred in seventeenth-century Jamestown, could no longer be the basis of the show. Looking for a similar case from the eighteenth-century, Hudson turned to Grace Sherwood’s trial and ducking.13 This shift created some notable challenges, the most significant being that there is no record that Sherwood was tried by the General Court. As a result, the show had to use Princess Anne County trial records. Because those records do not provide enough material for dialogue, Hudson looked to transcripts from other cases. He had been researching witch trials and the colonial court for years and drew from a deep well of information he could incorporate into the script.14 The result is a program inspired by history but not directly adapted from it.

Auditions began in late 1986 and early 1987, and the show initially ran one night a week in the capitol building. Cry Witch is currently performed there; however, it has taken place in other locations over the years. The production has been held in the Williamsburg Lodge, one of the museum’s hotel and conference venues, as well as in the Kimball Theatre located in Merchants Square, Colonial Williamsburg’s open-air shopping area. Of these settings, most show directors agree that the capitol offers the most immersive experience. Its main hall contains a raised dais and a tall, curved gallery that resembles an elongated judge’s bench. Most importantly, as Hudson explains, because performances take place in the evening, the “flickering candles from a handsome glass chandelier and a hanging lamp” cast “sinister shadows” and provide the ideal atmosphere to transport audiences to 1706.15 The chamber’s relatively small size also creates an intimate environment where the audience is only a few feet away from the actors. Those who are early enough can even sit on the dais with the actor portraying Virginia’s lieutenant governor. While these qualities make for a perfect setting, Cry Witch had to change venues when the capitol underwent restoration. Since most performances sell out, Colonial Williamsburg looked for locations that could accommodate more people. The newly renovated Kimball Theatre seemed to offer the best fit. It has four hundred seats compared to the capitol’s ninety. Since the actors were on a formal stage, however, it was more challenging to achieve the audience participation that makes the show so successful. It also impacted the logistics of the program, especially when attendees were invited to ask questions and to vote on the trial’s outcome.16 Because of these challenges, Cry Witch returned to the capitol. Colonial Williamsburg has addressed the issue created by audience demand by adding more shows and casts. While there was only one cast in the 1990s, there are currently three.17

The show has seven actors portraying the key figures from the Princess Anne County trial as well as officials from the General Court. The audience plays a role as well. At the beginning of the performance, after briefly explaining the case, the sheriff informs attendees that they are the jurors who will decide Sherwood’s fate. He asks them to remember that these people were real and that their words come from actual trial records. At the same time, he explains that members of the audience need to abandon their twenty-first-century views and cast their votes based on the beliefs of the period.18 He also tells them that regardless of their age or gender, they will be addressed as sir. After all, only white, landowning men would have served on a jury in colonial Virginia. The audience is then “transported” to 1706 as Edmund Jennings, the lieutenant governor, enters with the attorney general. As the presiding judge, Jennings states that Sherwood is accused of a capital offense and that even though there are ongoing debates about the reality of witchcraft, it is still a crime in Virginia. Sherwood is then brought into the room in chains and stands in front of the dais.

After reviewing the evidence against her, like the discovery of witch’s marks and the outcome of her trial by water, the attorney general calls Luke Hill to testify, followed by Elizabeth Hill, and finally Elizabeth Barnes. The audience is given an opportunity to ask questions of the Hills, but not of Barnes. For dramatic effect, Barnes is so overcome with terror while recounting her experiences with Sherwood that she breaks down in the middle of her testimony and is taken from the courtroom by the sheriff. Once the witness testimonies are complete, the attorney general reads a statement from the Princess Anne County court describing the outcome of Sherwood’s ducking. When the prosecution finishes presenting its case, Jennings asks Sherwood if she has any witnesses or evidence to offer. She whispers that she does not. Frustrated by her lack of defense, yet sympathetic to her plight, he breaks protocol and allows her to address the court and rebut her accusers. The attorney general vehemently objects but is overruled. Sherwood’s statement is interrupted by jeers from the Hills, and the sheriff is forced to clear them from the court to restore order.

Exasperated, Jennings then decides to employ an ancient test to determine Sherwood’s guilt. He asks her to recite the Lord’s Prayer. It was believed a witch was incapable of doing so. Sherwood haltingly begins before collapsing midway through, unable to finish.19 The sheriff leads her out of the room, and the audience votes on her guilt. The accused then returns to hear the verdict before everyone is “transported back” to the twenty-first century. During the show’s conclusion, the sheriff asks the audience if they would like to know what really happened to Grace Sherwood before coyly answering that no one knows. The only thing that is certain is that she was eventually released and that she died in 1740. He also tells the audience that they can visit where she was ducked, joking that many of them have probably done so since Princess Anne County is now the resort city of Virginia Beach.20 The pacing of Cry Witch is designed to keep the audience engaged while still providing as much information as possible. Considering the fact that it has been a staple of Colonial Williamsburg’s programming since 1988, it appears to have reached that balance. Most performances are sold out, and the packed room only heightens the intensity of the program. Audience members are never more than a few feet away from an actor at any given point throughout the evening, which means that they feel the tension and anger as Sherwood interacts with her accusers.

The creative decisions Hudson made when writing the script heighten this tension as well. At several points in the show, he chose to trade strict adherence to historical reality for compelling drama. Instead of standing to the side of the courtroom as defendants did, Sherwood is in the center of it directly in front of the lieutenant governor. As a result, she is always in the audience’s line of sight and in view of her accusers. The play also folds in elements from Sherwood’s slander trials to add nuance to the witchcraft charges, even though there is no evidence they were discussed in the 1706 trial. Luke Hill not only shares information about John Gisburne’s bewitched pigs and cotton, but Elizabeth Barnes describes being ridden by Sherwood. In another departure from trial procedure, Hudson felt that it was important for the audience to hear from Sherwood herself and decided that the breach of protocol could be explained by Jennings seeming to be sympathetic to her plight. His demeanor contrasts with the aggressive attitude of the attorney general, creating subtle tension between the two officials.21 Such nuance is absent when portraying the animosity between Sherwood and her accusers. The testimonies are raucous and dramatic, punctuated with outbursts from everyone involved. When Sherwood reveals that she brought no witnesses on her behalf, Elizabeth Hill scoffs, “None would come!” When Elizabeth Barnes describes the torments she suffered, Sherwood yells, “You had a bad dream, woman!”22

Figure 15. Scene from Cry Witch. (Courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation)

The most significant thing Hudson added to Cry Witch is a specific charge against Grace Sherwood. Instead of vaguely alleging that she bewitched Elizabeth Hill, Sherwood is on trial for causing a miscarriage. Hudson felt that the show had to be about a woman on trial for her life, not just on trial for performing witchcraft. Because England’s witchcraft statutes punished the crime as both a felony and a misdemeanor, Sherwood needed to be accused of causing death or injury. In choosing a miscarriage, Hudson drew from the case against Joan Wright, who allegedly bewitched an infant to death.23 By having the Hills blame Sherwood for causing a miscarriage, the show also invites the audience to bring a bit of modern skepticism into their thinking. When given the chance to question Elizabeth Hill, attendees inevitably ask about what she was doing in the days before, if she or her family had a history of miscarriages, and what sort of food she ate and drinks she drank.24 According to Abigail Schumann, this interactive element is one of the reasons for Cry Witch’s success. While the subject matter is interesting enough already, the questions allow people to fully immerse themselves into the show and use their “Law and Order brain.”25 These questions can be thoughtful and engaging, but this is not guaranteed; and the quality of the audience’s questions directly impacts the success of the program.26 It risks being bogged down if people ask things that have already been discussed or if they bring up irrelevant topics. This challenge was true when the show first debuted, and the script was quickly adjusted to allow the actor portraying Jennings to intervene and dismiss questions. He can also restate them in a way that will move the program along. This responsibility means the casting of the lieutenant governor is crucial for strong performances.27

Because Cry Witch blends a written script with audience questions, the actors need to have robust improvisation abilities, and testing these skills is an important part of the audition process.28 Consistent with Colonial Williamsburg’s educational mission, cast members are also given extensive background information prepared by the foundation’s researchers. As a result, they understand colonial court procedures and what eighteenth-century Virginians believed about witchcraft. They are also given information about other witchcraft trials that took place in Virginia. This training not only allows actors to provide accurate information when talking about the show with visitors, but it also helps them to effectively answer questions during performances.29 The ability to improvise in a way that drew from this background even led to what has become one of the show’s most climactic moments. Sherwood’s collapse while reciting the Lord’s Prayer was not in the original script. Instead, the actress playing Sherwood simply forgot it, and thinking quickly, she decided to collapse in the middle of her attempt. The moment proved so effective that it was added to every performance. The actress chooses the way Sherwood behaves before and during this collapse. Many try to make it appear as though they are overcome with exhaustion and stress, whereas others make it seem more sudden.30

The subtlety of this difference illustrates how important the interpretive decisions made by performers are in shaping the way audiences conceptualize the characters of the show and the actual people they represent. This is particularly true for the actress playing Sherwood. One of the show’s appeals is that it allows audience members to see how it portrays the accused.31 For tourists unfamiliar with Sherwood and her legend, Cry Witch creates an image of her that persists even when they start learning more. When Abigail Schumann played Sherwood, she always tried to emphasize her humanity and to “not be a caricature.” She thought about what it was that made neighbors not like Sherwood. Was she too withdrawn or was she too outspoken? Was she shunned for being a widow who did not remarry?32 Schumann is not alone in asking these questions. Others who have portrayed Sherwood have had similar thoughts and have drawn from their own experience. One actress found the role to be especially intriguing because “it was usually strong women” who were targeted as witches.33 This reflection obviously impacted her performance and how she imagined Grace Sherwood. During productions in July 2022, the actress playing Sherwood chose to have a quiet, yet defiant demeanor that projected both dignity and frustration.34 As a result, it was difficult for the audience not to sympathize with her plight.

These portrayals impact the voting behavior of the audience. Hudson knew from the start that attendees would decide the outcome of the trial, and over the years trying to predict audience behavior has become a game played by cast, crew, and longtime attendees. The script of the show is written in a way that encourages the audience to condemn Sherwood if they judge the evidence by the standards of the time. That said, few can completely dismiss their modern skepticism. In fact, before the debut performance, Hudson was convinced no one would vote for a conviction. He was surprised when audiences began doing so.35 Over the years, the rate of convictions and acquittals has fluctuated. Whereas some cast and crew say it is a fifty-fifty split, others contend that guilty verdicts outweigh nonguilty ones. They have also noticed that younger audience members are among the most difficult jurors for the attorney general to sway. Instead of indulging in a chance to convict a witch, they are among the most reliable not-guilty voters.36

The outcome of the trial gives the actress playing Sherwood one last chance to leave her mark on the audience. When convicted, some actresses have cried and wailed, resisting as they are dragged to their fate outside the courtroom. Others have been led out in quiet resignation, whispering, “God have mercy on you all.”37 If acquitted, some, like Schumann have tried to seem relieved and grateful, looking attendees in the eyes and thanking them. Others have cackled, suggesting that Sherwood was in fact guilty.38 The possibility of having different outcomes not only adds uncertainty to the performance, but it also encourages people to visit multiple times.39 The show was an instant success when it debuted in 1988, and it continues to be a vital part of Colonial Williamsburg’s programing. Schumann credits Hudson’s script for the show’s enduring popularity. She believes it is not only informative and educational but entertaining enough to keep people talking about it as they leave for home or their hotel rooms.40 As people are ushered out of the capitol building, it is not unusual to hear them talking to one another about how they voted or to see them looking for more information on their phones.

Since more and more of Colonial Williamsburg’s evening programing utilizes myths, legends, and ghost stories, a trial show about “Virginia’s witch” will remain popular for years to come.41 In fact, Cry Witch has become such a foundational element of this programming that it has developed legends of its own. During some ghost tours, participants are told that a woman in colonial garb is sometimes spotted standing on the balcony of the Capitol watching performances of the show. She disappears before anyone can climb the stairs to reach her. Everyone who has seen her contends she is not an actress, an usher, or another employee in period dress. Instead, she is said to be Sherwood herself, “revisiting the trial to see how it turned out.”42 While it is unlikely that Sherwood’s spirit visits a place that she might never have visited to witness the outcome of a trial that might not have happened, this tale shows how important Cry Witch has become to Colonial Williamsburg. It has also changed Sherwood’s legend itself.

Today, it is commonly believed that Grace Sherwood was accused of causing Elizabeth Hill to have a miscarriage.43 This detail is missing from every printed version of Sherwood’s trial until the 1990s, when Cry Witch established itself as one of Colonial Williamsburg’s premier attractions. It is important to remember that Carson Hudson did not find this accusation in the original records about Sherwood’s trial but instead added it to heighten the drama of the show.44 Nevertheless, it is now accepted as fact. The dialogue performed by the characters in Cry Witch has also been incorporated into modern versions of Sherwood’s story. Since the surviving documents do not record what anyone said during her trials, it is understandable that many authors might use Cry Witch’s dramatic testimonies to liven up their writing. Since the show is performed in Colonial Williamsburg and draws from historical research, it is also easy to see why some would assume this dialogue is based on actual statements. The best example of this influence can be found in Elizabeth Barnes’s testimony during the show. When recalling the torments she suffered from Sherwood’s bewitchment, she says that she saw Sherwood standing in her bedroom next to a man with a goat’s head and glowing eyes. The audience is meant to assume that this figure is Satan himself, and while claims such as these were common during witch trials, there is nothing to suggest that Barnes made them. Nevertheless, some authors add this detail to her allegations against Sherwood.45 The influence of Cry Witch on the evolution of Sherwood’s story demonstrates how public performances, reenactments, and storytelling impact the development of contemporary legends and shape the way they are told.

Finding the line between Sherwood’s legend and history is challenging even for professional researchers and historians. In 1994, when the Virginia Historical Society wanted to highlight their contributions to public history in Virginia, they incorporated Sherwood’s trial and the Burroughs transcript of it into an ad campaign. Not only was the transcript one of the first manuscripts added to the organization’s collection, but it was crucial in developing public awareness of Sherwood’s ducking. As a result, it was the perfect artifact to reflect the group’s mission and the fact that it was the first historical society established in the South. Nevertheless, to make the ad campaign as effective as possible, it relied more on legends about Sherwood than on the information found in the transcript held in the society’s collection. Starting with a dramatic headline that read “To Prove She Was Innocent of Witchcraft, Grace Sherwood Had to Do Only One Thing: Die,” the ad repeated the long-standing belief that those who endured a trial by water inevitably died. When explaining the accusations against Sherwood, it not only reiterated the claims that prompted her slander suits, but it also added that locals said she sailed in an eggshell and wore men’s clothing. Thanks to these rumors, she was ducked with a Bible around her neck. Once in the water, she not only floated, but she began swimming “on her back singing a song.” The stunned onlookers had little time to marvel at this spectacle before they were soon drenched by a horrific storm. The ad concluded by inviting people to visit the historical society and learn about “first woman in the colony of Virginia to be indicted” for witchcraft.46 As is so often the case with Grace Sherwood’s story, this ad campaign drew most of its information from legends derived from the past rather than the past itself. It also confirmed what the success of Cry Witch has proven for decades—that there are fewer tales in Virginia history more intriguing than Grace Sherwood’s.

While Colonial Williamsburg and the Virginia Historical Society in Richmond have capitalized on Sherwood’s fame to increase interest in their programs, she is still Virginia Beach’s witch. As a result, it is not a surprise that her hometown has included her in more public events than anywhere else. Like the Virginia Historical Society, the city has frequently used the original trial records to generate interest in both Sherwood and local history. For years they were on public display in the historic Princess Anne County courthouse and were a popular stop for curious tourists, community groups, and school field trips.47 Until the early 2000s, local history was a prominent part of the school curriculum, and many students visited the courthouse as part of their social studies classes. While there, in view of the original records, they learned about the Witch of Pungo. By coincidence, they also heard about John Burroughs and Benjamin Dey White during the same trip, since portraits of both were in the courthouse as well.48

During bicentennial celebrations in 1975 and 1976, Grace Sherwood was a prominent part of Virginia Beach’s efforts to highlight the city’s role in the nation’s founding. The first of these programs was Tales to Tell, an exhibit created by local artists to celebrate local culture and folklore. This intention was clear from its dedication ceremony, which began by honoring Louisa Venable Kyle for her work preserving the city’s stories. Touring the exhibits, visitors saw striking pieces illustrating Virginia Beach’s early history. Among the artwork on display was a sketch of Blackbeard’s head, meant to evoke the pirate’s demise at the hands of soldiers sent by Virginia lieutenant governor Alexander Spotswood. Nearby was a haunting landscape by Portsmouth artist Charles Sibley depicting Sherwood’s ducking. In the sketch, men stand in rowboats holding ropes tied to a woman’s head and shoulders, which are breaking through the waterline. The figures are obscured by shadows, creating a captivating and mysterious scene. Discovering that it was a challenge to show Sherwood cross-bound yet suspended between the boats, Sibley instead chose to emphasize mood over realism. It was one of the most popular pieces in the exhibit. Tales to Tell not only offered a way to showcase local talent, but it was also a way to tell the city’s story. As one organizer explained, “So many people are transient in Tidewater, we wanted to give them the folklore behind the Witch Duck Road, when the name flashes suddenly at an exit on the toll road.”49 Once again, Sherwood’s story helped connect a fast-changing city to its past.

While Tales to Tell relied on art to showcase Sherwood’s importance to the city’s history, a folk arts festival the same year gave visitors a live performance. The New Playmakers, a local theater group, performed The Legend of Witch Duck in Princess Anne Park, dramatizing Sherwood’s trial in a play that relied heavily on local folklore. Its author, Natalie White, worked in local theater and had a doctorate in dramatic literary criticism. With this background, she realized the importance of having local people tell local stories. If they did not, who would? This ambition aligned perfectly with the festival’s goal of representing the city’s “rural cultural heritage” by putting folkcrafts like metalworking, weaving, spinning, quilting, and soapmaking on display.50 The Legend of Witch Duck was only the latest in a long line of local plays that dramatized Sherwood’s ordeal. The Princess Anne Woman’s Club was fond of incorporating such performances into their events throughout the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s. In the 1930s, for example, they added Witch Crossed to many of their spring festivals. Written by Norfolk resident Frances Stoakley, the show “completely vindicated Grace of the charge” of witchcraft. It also retold many of the most important legends about her. Starting one year after the ducking, the play featured characters recalling that unusual event. Women described how Sherwood’s flirtatious attitude and penchant for bright clothing alienated her from her neighbors. A man portraying Captain Thoroughgood told the story of her sailing to England in an eggshell, and in another scene Sherwood is accused of causing storms. The performance was a success, with one audience member telling the Virginian-Pilot that the actress playing Sherwood “bewitched him” by wearing a red cape with hood.51

Amateur dramatizations of Sherwood’s life have been equally common in local schools. Going back as early as 1949, Kempsville High School performed an operetta written by the faculty called Spooks in Rhythm. Instead of a period piece, the musical was set in modern times and was about teenagers who tried “to match wits with the ghost of Grace Sherwood.” Like Witch Crossed, it drew heavily from the legends that had become so essential to local lore about Witchduck.52 Almost twenty years later, students at Cooke Elementary School dramatized Sherwood’s ducking for an annual puppet show that told stories about Virginia history. Using the courthouse records, they wrote the script, made the puppets, and decorated the stage. The show was performed during a special assembly in the cafeteria where they dressed in colonial costumes, danced a minuet, and had “colonial style” tea.53 In addition to these performances, Sherwood has even been incorporated into science lessons. In 1967, teachers in Thoroughgood Elementary School demonstrated how a ducking stool worked as part of a lesson on the laws of motion. Students also learned that such stools were used to punish unruly women and suspected witches. Even though one was not used to duck Grace Sherwood, the lesson nevertheless included stories about the accused witch sailing across the ocean in an eggshell and breaking free from her stool when she was ducked. Even students in nearby Norfolk have used Sherwood as the inspiration for stories and songs written during summer school programs.54

In addition to special events in school, students frequently took field trips to hear stories about Sherwood. Besides visits to the courthouse to see the trial records, these excursions also included visits to local historic houses. In 1974, William Eley, who taught at Princess Anne High School, took students on a tour of nearby homes rumored to be haunted. Much like modern-day ghost tours, he used these stops to teach students about the history of these places. During a trip to the Witchduck area, his students were even visited by Louisa Venable Kyle, who told them her favorite legends about the Witch of Pungo. In the 1990s, students could hear these tales from the reenactors who portrayed Grace Sherwood in the historic houses preserved as museums. Programs featuring Sherwood began just as Virginia Beach was starting to formalize preservation efforts for these properties. The first historic building it operated was the Francis Land House, which was built in the early nineteenth century. Eager to engage with schools and the community at large, Mark Reed began developing events for the house when he became its administrator in 1989.55 While much of this programming has focused on life during the nineteenth century, it also incorporated information about the colonial period as well. Much like Colonial Williamsburg, the Land House has used historical interpreters in its programing, and in the 1990s, Grace Sherwood was among the most popular personalities visitors encountered.

The Land House began featuring a Sherwood reenactor in 1990, just as Reed was beginning his tenure as its administrator. A docent portraying the accused witch not only shared Sherwood’s story with visitors but also taught about colonial belief in witchcraft. These discussions were always interactive, allowing people to ask questions and guide the conversation. Appearing alongside other volunteers and employees who depicted other parts of the area’s history, programs were tailored to the groups that came to the house. When a Girl Scout troop visited in 1990, for example, they mostly learned about the lives of girls during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Sherwood was also on hand to talk with the visitors.56 Considering the Land House’s mission, groups like the Girl Scouts were among its the most frequent visitors. So were students on field trips, especially third-graders who came when they were learning about local history.

The countless students who “met” Grace Sherwood at the Land House in the 1990s were likely talking with Molly Kratt.57 Kratt was drawn to Sherwood thanks to her interest in local history. Believing that it is essential for people to learn about the past so they can learn about themselves, she began volunteering for the Land House as a docent. After a while, she asked Reed if she could interpret Sherwood as part of the house’s programming. Both agreed that this addition would be entertaining for schoolchildren while also being educational. To prepare for the part, Kratt looked through the surviving court records as well as what others had written about Sherwood. She consciously rejected the persona of the “wicked witch” and tried to embody a woman who was “intelligent and caring.” Since Sherwood was a farmer’s wife, Molly Kratt chose to wear a simple skirt, blouse, apron, and cap.58 In deciding on this interpretation, she drew widely from popular legends. Louisa Venable Kyle’s depiction of Sherwood in The Witch of Pungo especially influenced Kratt’s portrayal, since it was also intended for children.59 Considering the audience, Kratt rarely dove into the more scandalous stories about Sherwood, instead keeping things light and playful. For example, when she would explain what Sherwood was rumored to have done, she would end by saying, “isn’t that silly? How could I have done that?”60

Molly Kratt moved to Fredericksburg in 1994 but returned to interpret Sherwood on special occasions for years after. She was on hand in 1995 when Virginia’s first lady, Susan Allen, came to the Land House during her tour of the state for its “Come See Our Stories” week. Allen and the others in attendance were enthralled as Kratt explained that Sherwood was labeled a witch because of her “odd behavior.” Because she would wear pants and catch lightning bugs with her bare hands, rumors spread that she sailed in eggshells and cursed cows. Kratt then described Sherwood’s ducking.61 She was also on hand a year later to help the Land House celebrate its tenth anniversary as a museum. Sherwood appeared alongside Blackbeard and members of the Land family to share the importance of local history.62 Reflecting on her time at the Land House, Kratt says she was always impressed with how interested the children were in their visits. In her estimation, they did not want to be “talked down to” but instead wanted to engage with what they were being told. On more than one occasion, this curiosity led many children to ask Kratt who she really was. When she replied “Grace Sherwood,” they would almost always point out that if that were true, she would be hundreds of years old. Molly Kratt would playfully tease, “I look good for my age, don’t I?”63

Visitors at the Thoroughgood House, which at the time was operated by the Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities, encountered a different kind of Grace Sherwood. Instead of Kratt’s lighthearted persona, they found a defiant woman who railed against her neighbors, the court’s justices, and the indignities she suffered. Portrayed by Irene Halle, this Sherwood was older, shorter, and preferred wearing pants as a nod to long-standing legend. Beyond these physical differences, Halle’s edgier interpretation was also shaped by the fact that events at the Thoroughgood House had a different audience. Occurring in the evening, they attracted more adults and teenagers.64 Moreover, Sherwood was included as part of a program about colonial superstitions, allowing Halle to linger on the accusations made against Sherwood longer than Kratt could. These tours were a popular part of the Thoroughgood House’s programming from the late 1980s through the early 2000s. The house director realized that the candlelit eighteenth-century house was the ideal place for an event discussing these beliefs. In addition to having the perfect atmosphere, the house also displayed the witch bottle found by Floyd Painter and boasted two “beasties,” wood-carved animals meant to ward off evil.65

Called Legends, Lore, and Lunacy in the late 1990s, it was especially popular during October, as locals looked for Halloween-themed fun. Visitors learned how Virginia’s dark woods and forests, along with fear of attacks by the Spanish and Native Americans, heightened the superstitions of English settlers. While many interpreters explained the ways in which colonists tried to protect themselves from witchcraft, Halle offered Sherwood’s side of the story. She explained how her beauty inflamed the jealousy of her neighbors and led to her persecution.66 A retired third-grade teacher who was named Virginia Beach’s Hospitality Volunteer of the Year in 2007, Irene Halle relished in the opportunity to depict Sherwood. While her other personas, like Ms. Frizzle or Magda the Magnificent at the Virginia Beach Aquarium, were a better match to her “sweet” and “bubbly” personality, Sherwood gave Halle the chance to be “as ugly as [she] could.”67 Because of her enthusiasm, Halle was even called upon to promote Legends, Lore, and Lunacy in the local media. In 1997, she posed for pictures, suspiciously rubbing her fingers along a sprig from a cedar tree. The Virginia Beach Sun added the photo alongside a discussion of the fact that Virginians planted the trees believing witches were compelled to count their needles.68 A year earlier, she gave a tongue-in-cheek Q&A with the Virginian-Pilot, answering for both herself and Grace Sherwood. When asked, “What is the last smart thing you did?” Halle replied that she “joined the Institute for Learning in Retirement,” and Sherwood said she “learned to swim.” Asked to describe their last vacation, Halle discussed her trip to the Elder Hostel in Los Angeles while Sherwood recalled sailing to England in an eggshell.69

Despite the lighthearted tone of the article, Irene Halle used the opportunity to explain why she found Sherwood’s story to be so important. She said that “it’s important for people to know the kind of prejudice that women faced in those days.” In 2000, she added that “Grace Sherwood was our first feminist,” reflecting a view that was becoming increasingly popular.70 Halle obviously felt a sense of kinship with Sherwood, which helped to motivate her performances. The same is true with Molly Kratt. She, like so many others, considers Sherwood to be a “woman far beyond her time” and a “pioneer,” someone persecuted for challenging the narrow expectations of society. Despite this adversity, “she stayed true to herself and her beliefs.” In this way, Kratt sees much of herself in Sherwood.71 These personal reflections reveal the extent to which the motivation of reenactors and interpreters shapes their depictions of the past. While almost all of them use research to ground their performances and try to faithfully portray their personas, the nuances of their characterization have a lasting impact on the way audiences will think of those people and the past itself. For the children who “met” Grace Sherwood, Molly Kratt’s and Irene Halle’s performances shaped how they imagined the accused witch and her story.

Sherwood continues to be an essential part of Virginia Beach’s historical programming. In 2018, the Lynnhaven House had several sell-out reenactments of the trial, including one performed by Shades of Our Past, an acting group based out of Williamsburg. Programmers continue to use Sherwood’s trial during school visits as well.72 For years tourists walking along the Virginia Beach oceanfront have also been able to watch a musical version of the trial as part of the city’s free programming. Written by Gary Spell, The Witch of Pungo tries to demonstrate how “ignorance produces fear.” Performed on an outdoor stage set with boats at each of its ends, the twenty-five-minute show includes a song about colonial belief in witchcraft, a dramatic courtroom scene, and concludes with Sherwood’s ducking. Because the performance is free and takes place outdoors, attendance fluctuates as people come and go, with as many as one hundred people watching at any given time.73

This oceanfront performance is one of the clearest demonstrations of Grace Sherwood’s importance to Virginia Beach. When organizing public entertainment that would put the city’s history on display for its millions of visitors, leaders turned to Sherwood’s ducking. They did so for good reason: they have found that simply mentioning Grace Sherwood in online posts and advertisements is enough to generate a surge of interest. Programs featuring Sherwood also draw the highest attendance.74 Her story’s ability to attract a crowd is not surprising. It has been told throughout the area since the nineteenth century, and for decades Sherwood herself has been tied into almost every aspect of the city’s cultural life. It should not be surprising that along the way both have inspired reenactments, plays, and musical performances. These in turn only further intertwine Sherwood with the city.

9

Witch Houses and Memorials

Grace Sherwood has been a foundational part of southeast Virginia’s folklore for more than a century; she has left an indelible impression not only on the region’s culture but on its landscape as well. Over the years, residents of Princess Anne County and Virginia Beach have connected Sherwood’s legend to specific locations throughout the area. In most cases, these spots have only a tangential connection to Sherwood, but since they were abandoned and dilapidated, locals could not help but share rumors about them. These developments are not unique to Grace Sherwood’s legend. “Haunted” places are a ubiquitous part of American culture. Every town and city has those derelict buildings that seem to invite people to tell stories about them. Often boarded up and abandoned, they look like they belong in a different time.1 They are still part of the landscape but stand apart from the neighboring houses filled with life; the families who used to occupy them are only memories in the minds of older residents. As time goes by, these memories fade, and details shift and merge into local legends. These stories are part of what makes a community unique. Even though many of them share common elements with countless legends from countless places, the way they incorporate local settings, people, and events helps to shape the way people think about where they live.2 The fact that these legends are tied to specific places validates them, and people can go to these spots to see if the stories are true. Folklorists refer to these excursions as legend trips. Since they are usually done by teenagers and young adults, legend-tripping is an important rite of passage that allows participants to transgress social boundaries and to confront adult issues like death and dying in a safe and playful way. Legend trips also develop a sense of belonging, connecting people to where they live. Along the way, they help these stories to remain vibrant within their communities and even produce new variations of older tales.3

In the case of Grace Sherwood, the spots most connected to her legend are in the parts of the city most associated with her and her ducking—Pungo/Back Bay and Witchduck. Driving past Pungo, on the way to Back Bay, travelers cross Muddy Creek Road, which is where every local will tell you Grace Sherwood once lived. Based on the information from Sherwood’s land grants, this piece of lore is true. Knowing where along this road her farm was located is more difficult to say. Seventeenth-century deeds were vague and relied on landmarks that have long since disappeared. Nevertheless, for decades many locals knew for certain that a dilapidated farmhouse along Muddy Creek once belonged to the Witch of Pungo.

It was a modest, two-story dwelling with weathered clapboard siding and a metal roof. According to an architectural assessment done before the house was destroyed by fire in 1993, its second story was built as an addition. The same is true for the one-story kitchen at its rear. It had two Flemish bond chimneys, one on the side of the main part of the house, the other in the back of the kitchen. Its most striking feature was a double porch that framed the front of the house. The first section of the porch led to the front door; the second was built directly above and was accessed by a door on the second floor. Assessors suggest that inhabitants used the second-story section of the porch to escape the brutal Virginia heat by sleeping there in the summer. The first and second floors were both built as single rooms, though partitions were added to the ground floor. Little was done to the house in the twentieth century to add modern comforts. Even though it was occupied until the 1960s, it was never wired for electricity and never had indoor plumbing. In the 1990s, it was even possible to see the corn husks that had been put in the walls to serve as insulation. Because of this, the house was a rare example of an unaltered “upper-middle-income farmer’s dwelling” from the early nineteenth century.4

Figure 16. The Muddy Creek Road house rumored to have belonged to Grace Sherwood. (Courtesy of the Virginia Department of Historic Resources)

This assessment means that the house was built decades after Sherwood’s death and could not have been hers. While some theorized that later owners altered her house through extensive additions, this suggestion is not possible. The house had a brick foundation, meaning its “bones” were built along with the rest of the first story in the early nineteenth century. The two additions were constructed in the 1850s.5 The average dwelling from Sherwood’s time was simply not built to survive for centuries. The fact that the house was not Sherwood’s does not mean that it was not on land she once owned. State surveyors meticulously analyzed the deeds for the property in the 1990s and found that the house was likely on a piece of property that Sherwood gave to her son John, which he in turn gave to his son. Pieces were sold over time until all of it was in the hands of new owners. John and Sally Ann Garrison received the house in 1866, and even though she owned several properties in the county, Sally Ann chose to live in it during her final decades.6 She is also one of the reasons the house became so widely known as the “witch’s house.”

Garrison lived to be ninety-six, and in her later years she gained a reputation for being a witch. According to the family stories shared with Jim Waterfield, her great-great-nephew, Garrison like to wear all black, had long white hair that she covered with a black veil, and was known to be an antisocial “penny pincher.” As she grew older, she became even more reclusive. Blind with cataracts and suffering from dementia, she could no longer care for the house, and the yard became overgrown and filled with trash. The only person she saw regularly was the local mailman, who delivered groceries to her as well as her mail. Neighbors would only see her when she was on the second-story porch, looking out into the distance, or when she was in her yard screaming at people who were not there.7 Dave McIntosh, a longtime resident of the area, remembers being told that when she would sit on the porch, she would cry for her husband. Those in earshot heard the wails and said she was praying to the devil.8 These sights and sounds were enough to solidify rumors that Garrison was a witch and to rekindle the house’s association with Sherwood.

It was not difficult to revive these connections. While it is impossible to say how long locals suspected the land was Sherwood’s, a deed from 1816 mentions that the property included “Grace’s bridge.”9 More than a century later, in 1931, the Virginian-Pilot claimed that Garrison lived “at the famous Grace Sherwood home in Princess Anne County.”10 Even before Garrison died, people connected her house to Sherwood. As a result, it became a physical landmark that helped to make Sherwood’s legends more tangible. Seeing the house offered an opportunity for people to tell these stories, and the suggestion that they occurred on that land gave them credibility. Curious legend-trippers were particularly fond of wandering the property around the house trying to find where Sherwood was buried. Relying on legend, they looked for a spot where “no grass grows and no snow lies.”11 Belinda Nash, who was considered by many to be the city’s foremost Sherwood authority in the early 2000s, was among those who scoured this land. She was convinced that Sherwood was buried “by a knoll of trees about one block from the intersection of Princess Anne Road and Pungo Ridge Road.”12 Even those who never made the trip to Muddy Creek Road were nevertheless familiar with the Witch of Pungo’s house. It appeared on postcards, sketches sold by local artists, in local media stories about Sherwood, and was even put on a quilt featuring the historic homes of Virginia Beach.13

The house was eventually abandoned when tenants moved to a trailer on the property. While someone was on-site, however, people could not venture inside to explore the “witch’s house.” They could only tell stories about it. The house was particularly mysterious to the teenagers and children who lived nearby. Sheila Marie Khan, whose family rented the trailer in front of the house, remembers playing there with her friends and relatives in the 1980s. Living so close to the Witch of Pungo’s house added a unique thrill to their games. Since the windows had been broken out, they would throw rocks to see if they could get them into the empty frames. On one occasion, Khan and her friends were surprised when “the rocks came back out,” thrown by one of the adults or by teenagers hoping to scare the younger children. While playing hide-and-seek, anyone brave enough to hide near the house would also hear “creepy noises.” To this day, Khan is not certain if those noises were made by other children, animals, or a mixture of both.14 After the last tenant moved off the property, it became possible for enterprising individuals, mostly teenagers, to sneak into it. Even though the house was a popular destination for legend trips, the recollections shared by visitors remained rudimentary. There were never specific stories about hauntings or strange events; people only mentioned its connection to Sherwood, supplemented with some details about Garrison. These elements appear to have been enough of a draw. Once inside, people would drink and tell each other ghost stories. Some even spray-painted satanic-themed graffiti.15

While the dilapidated house was ideal for people looking to scare one another, it proved to be a headache for its owners. Restoring the house would have been prohibitively expensive, to say nothing of the fact that its location along rural marshland meant that adding electricity and indoor plumbing would have been challenging. These modern necessities would have been costly to add, and connecting to the city’s infrastructure would have been daunting. Water and sewage access was the largest obstacle. The city did not provide these services to the Muddy Creek area, and the house was positioned in a spot that made adding a septic system difficult.16 As a result, even if the house was restored, its owners could not have lived in it. Considering these challenges, it is surprising that it was not razed by its owners. The only thing that saved it was its connection with Sherwood.17 In 1990, the United States Fish and Wildlife Service bought the property, and they assumed the dilemma of what to do with the Witch of Pungo’s house. The Service’s first instinct was to tear it down, but the fact that so many people assumed it was Sherwood’s made officials hesitant to do so. As John Wilson, the regional historic preservation officer tasked with assessing the property, put it, the house “doesn’t look like much, but the local ‘affection’? for Grace Sherwood is such that we wouldn’t want to demolish it without being absolutely sure that it wasn’t her home.”18

Vandals eventually resolved this quandary for the government. As soon as the Fish and Wildlife Service bought the house, officials had it cleaned out and boarded up. Invariably, many of these boards were pried loose, and people continued to sneak inside. Either through carelessness or maliciousness, fires broke out on several occasions. In 1991, one gutted the kitchen, and a second blaze in 1993 destroyed what remained.19 Considering the house’s reputation, it is not surprising that locals still tell stories about its destruction. Even though the first fire happened in July and the second in May, many claim that the house “mysteriously burned down on Halloween night.”20 In fact, some allege it survived countless arson attempts from people who gathered there on October 31 to commune with Sherwood. Many also claim that Sherwood’s spirit protected the house during these times.21

Even her mystical abilities were not enough to save it from the second fire in 1993. Some locals allege that many onlookers were worried they would encounter Sherwood’s vengeful ghost while watching the blaze. Others believe the house might have been saved, but the fire department was so tired of responding to calls on the property that they were intentionally sluggish in their response. This delay allowed the blaze to consume the house.22 Alpheus Chewning Jr., a retired captain with the Virginia Beach Fire Department who operates the History and Haunts storytelling service, explains that the department’s response was influenced by more straightforward considerations. Realizing the house was empty, firefighters did not enter it out of an abundance of caution. Following protocols that are crucial for ensuring their safety, as well as that of bystanders, they contained and extinguished the fire from the exterior of the structure. Grace Sherwood’s ghost may not have been a threat to their well-being, but a long-abandoned house that was structurally unsound and engulfed in flames certainly was.23 It is not clear if the perpetrators were ever apprehended. The media never announced any arrests, and obtaining the relevant police reports requires a Freedom of Information Act request. As is so often the case, rumors have filled the space left by the difficulty of finding the truth. Some allege that three sailors stationed in the area were arrested for the first fire, while another popular story claims that the police found the arsonist because he accidentally left a completed McDonald’s job application on the scene.24 Even though the Muddy Creek house was lost to fire, people still come to the property on legend trips. Many hunt for the remnants of the house, hoping to claim a piece of the Witch of Pungo’s dwelling for themselves.

Even though Grace Sherwood supposedly lived in the house on Muddy Creek Road, the historic property that is most connected to her legacy is nestled in the middle of a narrow piece of land jutting into the Lynnhaven River near Witchduck. Ferry Plantation House, called Old Donation Farm in earlier times, has long been rumored to be the place where Sherwood was imprisoned. Although the property was first settled in the seventeenth century, the stately ten-room, three-story home currently standing there was built around 1830, long after Sherwood’s ducking. A ferry once operated on the land, giving the house its name, and earlier homes on the site served as the county’s tavern, courthouse, and jail.25 As with many historic properties in the area, Ferry Plantation House was built after an earlier one was destroyed in a fire. Even though long-standing rumor contends that the new structure was built into the remnants of the old house, archaeological assessments suggest otherwise.26 While most of Ferry Plantation is brick, its north wing has whitewashed wooden siding, giving it a unique appearance. In earlier times, the front entrance had a two-story wooden porch, with another one-story porch framing its back door. The original interior also had wide pine-board floors and ornate fireplaces in each room. As impressive as these details were, one of its most striking features has always been the iron bars put over one of the windows on the ground floor.27

Figure 17. Ferry Plantation House. (Author’s photograph)

Thanks to these bars and the fact that a courthouse once stood on the property, local legend claims that this room was once the county’s jail and that Grace Sherwood was its most famous occupant. Admiral Lewis Walke heard this story when he toured Ferry Plantation during a visit to the Witchduck area in 1914. Its owner told Walke that “the house was formerly the jail and Courthouse of Princess Anne Country, and one of the ground floor rooms, now used for a bathroom, is said to have been the jail, and Grace Sherwood, the famous Virginia witch, is said to have been incarcerated therein.” Even though Walke considered the story to be nothing more than “neighborhood tradition,” he still found the bars on the windows to be compelling evidence.28 While his recollections are the earliest written account of this rumor, it was likely circulating for decades prior. Walke acknowledged as much when he excitedly wrote that he had managed to get a “very old unsigned and undated paper” recording Sherwood “traditions” from Josiah Woodhouse Jr.29 Unfortunately, he did not say what these “traditions” were.

Prior to the 1960s, journalists used the rumors of Sherwood’s imprisonment at Ferry Plantation to add romantic flourish to descriptions of the house, helping to spread them beyond the Witchduck area. When Margaret Davis Jaffé put together a profile of Ferry Plantation for the Virginian-Pilot in 1926, she wrote that visitors would find that “the kitchen wing of the house remains unaltered, and to this day the heavily barred windows of the little pantry mark the cell of the jail adjoining the courthouse where Grace Sherwood was confined in the year 1706. To stand within this dark, musty, incredibly tiny barricade is to experience a vivid sympathy with the prosaic matron who was accused of witchcraft.”30 Such descriptions were also incorporated into announcements for the home-and-garden tours offered in the area. Since White Acre, with its garden fence allegedly belonging to Sherwood, was included on these tours as well, participants had several opportunities to immerse themselves in her story. The annual spring festival for the Princess Anne Woman’s Club provided another opportunity to do so. On several occasions, Ferry Plantation hosted this event for the club, creating an ideal setting for a program that almost always included a historical play. Even when these performances had nothing to do with Sherwood, advertisements mentioned that attendees would sit in view of “the bars to the very room where she was held prisoner.”31 By the mid-twentieth century, this legend was part of Ferry Plantation’s identity. It was included on sketches and photographs of the home and mentioned in almost every discussion of the property.32

Ferry Plantation House remained occupied until the 1980s. It was vacant, however, by the time it and its surrounding property were sold to developers in 1988. Like nearby Witchduck, the area was quickly transformed from farmland into an upscale residential neighborhood.33 This development put the historic house in a precarious position. It was showing its age and needed modernization; and while the city council was eager to preserve the house, city leaders were not willing to assume responsibility for it. Further complicating matters was the fact that the original development plan promised that the house would not become a private residence. It stood in the middle of the new neighborhood on property most homeowners considered to be communal space. While nearby residents did not want Ferry Plantation to be sold as a single-family home, few wanted it to become a high-traffic tourist destination.34 Years of frustration followed as plans for the structure languished. The developers initially gave it to the Contemporary Arts Center to serve as a museum. This museum never materialized, and Ferry Plantation reverted back to the developers. It changed hands again when they went bankrupt, and the new owners tried to sell it as a private home. This sale was blocked due to protests by neighbors, and in the meantime the home deteriorated as it sat unoccupied.35

Abandoned, run-down, and surrounded by a chain-link fence but situated in the center of a vibrant neighborhood, the house was an uncanny sight. Rumors of strange sights and sounds developed quickly, and Ferry Plantation became increasingly known as a haunted “witch’s house.” Unsurprisingly, it was a popular spot for teenagers to legend-trip, eager to see if neighborhood rumors were true. At night, the fence was not much of a barrier for teenagers looking for excitement. Sometimes they got more than they expected. Alpheus Chewning Jr. recalls an amusing case of a test of courage gone wrong when teenagers snuck into the house in the 1980s. While walking up to the front door, one fell through the rotted porch, and as he tried to free himself, the girl behind him wearily ventured into the house. No sooner was she inside than a bird flew at her. Believing “the witch came flying straight out of the fireplace,” she ran home, abandoning her friend, who was still stuck in the porch.36

The ghost stories shared by longtime residents about Ferry Plantation only heightened the appeal of these visits. Emma Virginia Greenwell Ellis, who played near the house as a child in the 1910s and 1920s, once recalled that some nights servants would run from the house claiming they saw a ghost. She also remembered hearing tales of people seeing Grace Sherwood standing in the nearby fields, waving to those passing by.37 Over the decades, Sherwood’s spirit adapted to the changing times, content to haunt the houses built on those fields. Many of these stories echo those shared by residents of nearby Witch Duck Point. Neighbors with docks facing Ferry Plantation House say they have seen strange lights on the water and that they have woken up to find that their lawn chairs had been moved to face it. One resident has claimed that she once woke up at two in the morning to find a “young woman in a long, flowing gown with long hair walk out of [a] closet and across the room.” Jo Howren, whose ex-husband’s family used to own the property, recalled a similar encounter with a “young, slender [woman] with long dark hair.” Howren watched as this specter came out of the dining room and walked through the nearby pantry door. She had no doubt the woman was Grace Sherwood.38 These stories illustrate the continued power of Sherwood’s legend. It adds depth, nuance, and local flavor to what otherwise would be a standard ghost story. As with the tales about Witchduck, those told about Ferry Plantation are like countless others shared across the United States. It is only once Sherwood is identified as the ghostly visitor that they become grounded and believable.39

Howren’s story has even deeper resonance given her family’s connection to Ferry Plantation. By the mid-1990s, she and countless others were worried about the house’s future, especially as it decayed from neglect as developers and the city decided what to do with it. By the time new investors bought the property in 1994, saplings had grown through its porches, its interior walls had cracked, it was infested with animals, and it was marred by vandalism.40 Given its condition, it was possible that Ferry Plantation would soon reach the point where it could not be saved. For those interested in preserving Virginia Beach’s historic buildings, this outcome would have been a devastating loss for the city. Restoring Ferry Planation became a possibility in June 1996 once the new investors realized they would not be able to sell the house and agreed to deed it to the city.

Even though leaders were unwilling to add Ferry Plantation to the collection of historic properties maintained and operated as history museums, they were willing to lease the building to the Friends of the Ferry Plantation House. This group was initially organized by Howren and others to aid in restoration efforts.41 The Friends had a notable ally in Barbara Henley, a city council member long interested in historic preservation. Henley had written a paper about the need to preserve Ferry Plantation when she was in graduate school, and she considered it to be “the most significant historical site” in the city.42 Starting in the summer of 1996, the Friends consulted with a historical architect to develop a restoration plan, cultivated community support, and began raising money. In October, the group received unanimous approval for its plans from the city council. In addition to receiving the right to maintain the house, they also received seed money to begin restoration.43 Once restoration was complete, the goal was to have a public space where people could learn about Virginia Beach’s history. Henley, in particular, was eager to have the site host a historical library and to display the bottles, nails, bricks, and other items uncovered during restoration.44 Organizers cultivated public support for their work, not only making clear that the restored house would not rely on taxpayer money but also calling attention to the house’s historical significance. In letters to supporters, at community meetings, and in media interviews, the Friends stressed Ferry Plantation’s important role as a one-time courthouse, ferry, and tavern for Princess Anne County.45

They also leaned into the property’s association with Grace Sherwood. One of the earliest newspaper articles promoting the group’s efforts began by describing how people standing outside the house might “hear Grace Sherwood flounder in the waters of the Lynnhaven River.” It then repeated the long-standing rumor that she was imprisoned on the site. As it had done for decades, Sherwood’s ducking offered an irresistible tie between the past and the present. By reiterating Ferry Plantation’s connection with this story, the Friends were arguing that saving the house was saving a physical piece of this history. This conviction was not a gimmick used to raise money and build support; it was deeply felt by members. While discussing the planned renovations with Mary Reid Barrow of the Virginian-Pilot, one of the Friends said without hesitation that Ferry Plantation was “Grace’s Place.”46 While this sentiment was shared by almost everyone responsible for the house’s restoration, it resonated most strongly with Belinda Nash. One of the Friends’ earliest members, Nash eventually became Ferry Plantation’s executive director, working with other volunteers to restore the house and establish its presence in the community. She also embedded Sherwood into almost every aspect of its identity and made it synonymous with the accused witch. Along the way, Nash herself became known as the city’s “most distinguished authority on Grace Sherwood,” and in the process she ended up shaping the development of Sherwood’s legend in a way few others have except for Louisa Venable Kyle.47

Like so many others, Belinda Nash felt a strong personal connection to Grace Sherwood. Before moving to Virginia Beach from Ontario, Canada, in 1982, she raised pigs on a farm. Because she worked so well with animals, neighbors joked that she must be a witch and began referring to her as “Farmer Sam,” alluding to the witch Samantha Stevens, the main character in the 1960s and 1970s sitcom Bewitched.48 When Nash moved to Virginia Beach and came across Sherwood’s story, she felt an instant kinship with the Witch of Pungo. In 2006, Nash explained that “if we were back in those days, I know I would’ve been called a witch . . . because I love to poke around.”49 She became eager to learn as much as she could about Sherwood and collected everything she could find. She also tracked down living descendants of Sherwood’s, and like others before her, she found herself drawn to Sherwood’s rumored homestead on Muddy Creek Road. While exploring the property, she even plucked some rosemary for her garden. During these investigations, Nash yearned to discover the “real” Grace Sherwood, not simply the lore.50 Relying heavily on her own intuition and suppositions, which she then blended with surviving records and local tales, Nash eventually crafted a comprehensive story of Sherwood’s life. Thanks to her work with Ferry Plantation and her public efforts to vindicate Grace Sherwood, Nash’s interpretation of the legend is commonly accepted as fact.

A Place in Time, the biography of Grace Sherwood that Nash wrote in 2012 with her daughter, Danielle Sheets, offers the best example of her version of the tale. For Belinda Nash, Sherwood was not only a captivating beauty but also a “strong willed” and “adventurous” woman who, thanks to her parents, learned about herbs, farming, and the weather. With these skills she developed an ability to help animals and people alike and became a healer and midwife in the community.51 Because she understood how to properly dry crops and irrigate her land, she also became a successful farmer. This success provoked the jealousy of her neighbors, especially during lean times. Her looks, made even more striking thanks to her fondness for wearing men’s clothing, only intensified their envy, as did the fact that she was “independent, headstrong, and determined.”52 Eventually, her neighbors’ disdain led to allegations of witchcraft, culminating in her slander trials and Luke Hill’s formal complaint. Reflecting the influence of Cry Witch, in Nash’s version, the Hills blamed Sherwood for Elizabeth’s miscarriage, an accusation made stronger thanks to Sherwood’s status as a midwife.53

Nash’s account of Sherwood’s ducking similarly expands upon existing legend by adding dramatic dialogue to the scene. As Sherwood was about to be submerged, the sheriff asked if she had anything to say. She cried, “I be not a witch; I be a healer,” before giving her warning that the spectators would soon be ducked themselves. In this version, however, her prediction was not evidence of her supernatural power; it reflected her ability to observe weather patterns. The fact that she survived her ducking had an equally reasonable explanation: her father had taught her to swim and to tie and untie knots.54 Like Kyle and so many others, Nash portrays Sherwood as a woman ahead of her time, possessing qualities that are admirable today but in her lifetime led others to demonize her. What separates Nash’s version of the tale from those that came before it is the depth of detail and description she provides. For example, Louisa Venable Kyle had long said that Sherwood was good with herbs and could make remedies with them.55 Nash’s retelling expands on this detail, making it a core part of Sherwood’s identity. Grace Sherwood becomes a fully developed person with a complete biography.

A Place in Time was the culmination of decades of storytelling. In addition to writing other books that incorporated this version of Sherwood’s legend into local history, Nash added it to the tours given at Ferry Plantation. There, visitors would not only hear about Sherwood, but they would also see a replica of a witch bottle and even a scale model of Sherwood’s house as imagined by Nash.56 Thanks to Nash’s dedication, telling Sherwood’s story has also become part of almost every event Ferry Plantation has hosted since opening to the public. In the early 2000s, when the house participated in the Bayside History Trail Day, visitors would encounter one of the docents portraying Sherwood.57 She was also part of the summer camps hosted by Ferry Plantation for elementary school students. These camps teach children about local history through hands-on activities like yarn spinning and butter churning. They have also reenacted Sherwood’s ducking.58

During these reenactments, which took place around a kayak on the house’s lawn, one of the children narrated the story while others played key figures in the trial. As with other performances, the activity relied heavily on Sherwood’s legend to create dramatic effect. In 2006, for example, a six-year-old participant portraying Sherwood shouted, “I be not a witch; I be a healer! . . . Before this day be through, ye will all get a worse ducking than I.” Onlookers chanted, “She is guilty!” in reply. The activity ended with the narrator sharing that “Grace spent over seven long years in jail until then governor of Virginia, Governor Spotswood, declared her freedom and returned her property to her.” Participating in the reenactment had a profound impact on the campers, folding Sherwood’s legend into their understanding of the trial. Reflecting on the activity, one girl said, “They thought she was really a witch. I don’t think she was a witch. She might have floated because she knew how to swim.” Another remarked, “They blamed [misfortune] on her to get back at her—especially the women—because she was prettier and more intelligent.”59

The “ducking” performed during Ferry Plantation’s summer camp was modeled after a more elaborate reenactment the house hosted for several years in the early 2000s. Held around July 10 to mark the anniversary of Sherwood’s trial by water, onlookers stood along the Lynnhaven River or rowed into the water in small boats and kayaks to watch as performers re-created the ducking. This annual tradition began in 2002 as a smaller-scale commemoration to honor Sherwood and to raise money for the house. The announcement in Ferry Plantation’s newsletter, written in period language by the “Ghost of Grace Sherwood,” invited the community to come to the house and hear about the history of the trial from Nash herself. They could also learn about the folklore surrounding it from Irene Halle, the Thoroughgood House’s longtime Sherwood interpreter. The event also included an optional canoe and kayak trip along the Lynnhaven River to visit the spot Nash claimed was the place where Sherwood was ducked. The excursion was timed so rowers would reach this point exactly at 10:00 a.m., when she was cast overboard.60 A year later, what began as a simple commemoration became a full-fledged reenactment.

Figure 18. Ferry Plantation House’s reenactment of the ducking of Grace Sherwood. (Courtesy of the Friends of the Ferry Plantation House)

Local actresses and twin sisters Molly McDermott and Gale Johnson were on hand to portray Sherwood, joined by others in period costumes portraying the sheriff, justices, and jury of searching women. In a sight that blended the modern day with the imagined past, the actors rode to the ducking spot in a small motorboat as Nash and Gerry Richter, one of Ferry Plantation’s board members, shared the history and legend of Grace Sherwood. They reminded listeners that Sherwood was persecuted for being a woman “ahead of her time. Grace had extensive knowledge of nature, farming, natural remedies, and healing cures. She shared her knowledge and thus she was thought a witch.”61 The actor portraying the sheriff read relevant excerpts from the trial records and, relying on long-standing local belief, stated that Sherwood was cross-bound when she was ducked. Observers were encouraged to shout, “Duck the witch!” as McDermott cried, “Before this day be through, ye will all get a worse ducking than I! I be not a witch; I be a healer!” She then switched places with her sister, who was submerged in the Lynnhaven River before breaking to the surface. Afterward, the sheriff proclaimed her guilt and then told the crowd that “Grace spent over seven years in jail [before] . . . Governor Spotswood, declared her freedom and returned her property.”62 Like the year before, Ferry Plantation was open for visitors to learn more, with Halle on hand once again to share Sherwood legends. This time she was joined by a reenactor portraying Spotswood.63 The event was so successful it became an annual tradition. Beginning in 2004, Nash’s daughter, Danielle Sheets, portrayed Sherwood, and a rowboat often replaced the motorboat to make the scene look more authentic.64 The reenactment also became more elaborate, incorporating more activities to accommodate larger crowds.

The primary purpose of these mock duckings was to raise funds for Ferry Plantation and to enhance its visibility in the community. Belinda Nash also hoped that increasing public interest in Grace Sherwood would contribute to a larger goal—having her pardoned. In 2005, Nash successfully convinced the vestry of Old Donation Episcopal Church, where she was a parishioner, to publicly exonerate the accused witch.65 Even though Grace Sherwood would have attended a chapel of ease near Pungo and not the church that eventually became Old Donation, it was still the seat of Lynnhaven Parish’s vestry. Moreover, thanks to its proximity to Witchduck and the actions of previous parishioners, like Benjamin Dey White, the church has long incorporated Sherwood’s ducking into its own history.66 In recent decades, many of Old Donation’s parishioners have leaned on these traditions and have even added new episodes to Sherwood’s legend. Some parish tour guides tell visitors that Sherwood was baptized and married in the earlier church building.67 Some have also claimed that prior to being ducked, Sherwood was brought before the parish and ordered to confess her sins. According to this version of events, it was here that Sherwood proclaimed, “I be not a witch; I be a healer!” After this refusal and her supposed conviction for performing witchcraft, she was expelled from the parish.68 In order to call attention to these rumored indignities, members regularly toll Old Donation’s bell at 10:00 a.m. on July 10. For Nash and many others, by exonerating Grace Sherwood, the vestry was finally making amends for actions that left a stain on the church’s legacy.

As significant as Old Donation’s actions were for Nash, she had set her sights on a formal pardon from Virginia’s governor. The events that led to this “pardon” are the best illustration of Nash’s dedication to Sherwood’s cause. Gerry Richter recalls that Nash submitted requests to three different governors, facing constant rejections.69 According to a popular rumor, none of them wanted to pursue the matter, fearful of ridicule from naysayers and blowback from Virginia’s evangelical population. Denise Watson Batts of the Virginian-Pilot even suggested that Governor Mark Warner denied the petition because he worried that the resulting coverage might impact a potential presidential run.70 The primary reason Nash’s requests went unfulfilled has a more mundane explanation. Virginia’s governors normally do not pardon the deceased, let alone someone who died in the eighteenth century. More importantly, because there is no evidence that Sherwood was convicted by the colonial court, she technically could not receive a pardon. Nash remained steadfast, however, determined to have Sherwood vindicated in time for the three-hundredth anniversary of her ducking in 2006.

In addition to submitting a formal petition to Governor Tim Kaine, she also called his office several times a day asking for updates.71 Her persistence paid off, and on July 10, 2006, Kaine “officially restore[d] the good name of Grace Sherwood.” In doing so, he acknowledged that “with 300 years of hindsight, we all certainly agree that trial by water is an injustice. We also can celebrate the fact that a woman’s equality is constitutionally protected today, and women have the freedom to pursue their hopes and dreams.”72 The governor’s announcement was read by Virginia Beach’s mayor, Meyera Oberndorf, as she proclaimed July 10 “Grace Sherwood Day” during Ferry Plantation’s reenactment that year.73 Even though the governor restored Sherwood’s “good name,” he acted carefully while doing so. He avoided any mention of a formal pardon, and his proclamation was made in the form of a personal letter to Nash, not as an official executive order. These technicalities mattered little to Nash, who was “glowing” during the event, relishing the opportunity to share her interpretation of Sherwood’s story with everyone attending. Nor did the governor’s phrasing prevent local and national media from announcing that Virginia had just “pardoned” a witch convicted three hundred years prior. While many acknowledged it was only an informal pardon, this admission did not change the tone of the coverage.

The widespread media coverage of Kaine’s announcement introduced Sherwood to a global audience, solidifying her status as “Virginia’s witch.” It also ensured that Nash’s version of Sherwood’s legend became the prevailing interpretation of her life and trial. When describing Sherwood’s “pardon,” countless articles wrote that she was a tall and attractive woman who wore men’s clothing and was ducked for being unconventional. Even though she was a devoted midwife who used her knowledge of herbs to help those around her, she was nevertheless persecuted.74 After Sherwood’s vindication, Nash was ready to make this incarnation of the exonerated witch a permanent presence by installing a statue of Grace Sherwood in Virginia Beach.

Plans for the statue had been in development for years, with the hope that it would be in place for the commemorations in 2006. Nash commissioned California artist Robert Cunningham to create the sculpture, which used a popular sketch of Sherwood drawn by Virginia Beach native Rip Rylance for her likeness. Reflecting her reputation as a healer and animal lover, the statue depicts her holding a basket of herbs with a racoon by her side. Even though it was finished and in Nash’s possession in September 2006, it was difficult to find a place to install it.75 She initially hoped to gift it to Old Donation Church, and wanted it to stand in its graveyard. For Nash, this setting would serve as a permanent reminder that the congregation had made amends for their rumored rejection of Sherwood centuries before. Even though Nash first discussed the matter with the church’s interim rector in 2004, most parishioners objected to the statue’s proposed location. While these discussions were taking place, the leadership of the parish changed. Its new rector, Robert Randall Jr., eager to find a solution to the impasse, surveyed the congregation and found that 80 percent opposed placing the statue in the graveyard. Instead, they wanted it in a more public spot on the church’s grounds. With the approval of the parish, Randall proposed three alternative sites.76 Nash found these alternatives lacking and declined his offer. By this point, she and her supporters believed that “influential members” of the vestry opposed displaying a statue of an accused witch. She stopped attending Old Donation in protest, arguing that Sherwood was “rejected again” by her home parish.77

The statue eventually found a home on the grounds of the nearby Sentara Bayside Hospital. According to Gerry Richter, Nash ensured that the statue was placed facing Old Donation Church, in protest of the vestry’s decision not to put it in the church’s graveyard.78 While at first glance this statue’s presence at the hospital seems arbitrary, Nash, Sentara administrators, and city leaders leaned heavily on Sherwood’s legend to make it seem like a fitting location. Stephen D. Porter, vice president and administrator for the hospital, said that it was proud to host Sherwood’s likeness on their grounds. “What better place” could there be for one of Virginia Beach’s “first healers”?79 Councilmember Barbara Henley unveiled the statue in a small ceremony on April 21, 2007. As part of the event, the principal of Pembroke Elementary School read “The Rhyme of the Witch’s Duck,” a verse poem about Sherwood’s ducking written in the 1940s, and afterward Nash and others discussed Sherwood’s importance to the city.80 The statue’s dedication once again put Grace Sherwood in the national media, offering another opportunity for Nash and others to share her story beyond Virginia Beach. In interviews, Belinda Nash recalled that Sherwood was “knowledgeable in the healing arts and a lover of animals,” while Chuck Plimpton, who coordinated the installation, claimed that she was the “first woman in Princess Anne County to hold [a] deed to property.” Reflecting Sherwood’s enduring popularity, Barbara Henley concluded that she “was a woman ahead of her time. . . . [T]his [statue] is really a celebration of women’s rights.”81

Figure 19. Belinda Nash at the unveiling of the statue of Grace Sherwood, 2007. (Courtesy of the Friends of the Ferry Plantation House)

After Sherwood’s “good name” was restored in 2006 and her statue was unveiled in 2007, Ferry Plantation House’s annual reenactment of her ducking became a full-fledged celebration of “Grace Sherwood Day.” Not only was a reenactment of James and Grace Sherwood’s wedding added to the program, but attendance grew as well.82 Ferry Plantation stopped the reenactments of Sherwood’s ducking in the mid-2010s once the insurance costs associated with the event became too high. It nevertheless remains dedicated to telling Sherwood’s story. During every tour of the house, visitors stop in a space on its top floor affectionately named “Grace’s Room.” There, they hear the tale of an unconventional healer persecuted for being a woman ahead of her time. As the story is told, they are shown a mock-up of Sherwood’s statue along with Nash’s model of Sherwood’s home. Displayed on a nearby shelf is the house’s copy of Louisa Venable Kyle’s The Witch of Pungo.83

In 2014, Old Donation Episcopal Church put a small stone dedicated to Sherwood in their herb garden, becoming the site of Virginia Beach’s most recent memorial to her. Its inscription states that Grace Sherwood was a “healer of the sick with herbs” who was “convicted as a witch” and “survived Virginia’s only trial by ducking in the Lynnhaven River.” Her “name [was] cleared by [Virginia’s] governor 300 years later.” At the ceremony for its installation, the church’s rector meditated on the need to “lay aside our prejudice and fear,” while Bob Perrine, the church’s historian, reminded attendees that Sherwood was a dedicated healer targeted by her parish and community.84 Nash, who attended the event in colonial garb, welcomed the decision after the controversy that erupted over the placement of Sherwood’s statue. At the stone’s dedication, Nash said she was pleased that “Grace Sherwood was finally welcomed back to the flock of the Lynnhaven Parish.”85 Nash returned to the congregation as well. She died two years later, having made her vision of Grace Sherwood a physical presence in Virginia Beach. The memorials she helped to create along with her work at Ferry Plantation House have etched this version of Sherwood’s story into the city’s landscape. They have created new spaces for visitors and locals alike to hear the legend of the Witch of Pungo.

Epilogue

Thanks to the generations of people who have preserved and passed down her legend, Grace Sherwood has become part of Virginia Beach’s cultural landscape. Her influence is felt in the city’s festivals, its historic houses, and its public performance. Tangible reminders of her legacy can be found in the memorials, markers, and street names that supporters have dedicated to her memory. Grace Sherwood continues to inspire authors as well. Hardly a year goes by without her legend appearing in books about Virginia history and folklore.1 Local journalists are equally drawn to her. Public interest in the Witch of Pungo peaks every October as people get in the Halloween spirit, inspiring a new round of articles and segments on the local news. Hoping to find the “real” Grace Sherwood, reporters flock to places like Ferry Plantation House looking for interviews. As a result, these broadcasts and articles continue the blending of history and legend that has been taking place for decades.2 Because these stories are prepared by journalists, use local experts, and feature places anyone can visit, they appear to be grounded in reality, giving Sherwood’s tale a sense of veracity. Work done by local reporters also allows Grace Sherwood’s legend to reach new audiences and give it new life. These reports ensure it remains relevant in the community. Even more impactful are the handful of documentaries that have been created over the past few decades. Two, in particular, were able to capture the intersection of Grace Sherwood’s impact on Virginia’s history, folklore, and culture.

The first was a segment included in the October 23, 1988, episode of Our Place, Our Time, a popular program that aired on WHRO, Hampton Road’s local public broadcasting channel. Reflecting how important Cry Witch had become in telling Sherwood’s story, the host, Vianne Webb, began the segment standing in front of the capitol building of Colonial Williamsburg. She then moved on to the Wythe House, long rumored to be one of Williamsburg’s most haunted houses, and wondered if its spirits communed with Sherwood. Using clips from Cry Witch to set the stage, Webb describes Sherwood’s trial and ends by asking, “Was Grace Sherwood really a witch?” The segment then moves to Virginia Beach, where a correspondent continues to tell the story while looking through records stored in the city’s historic courthouse. Afterward he interviewed Florence Turner on the banks of the Lynnhaven River. Turner, a local amateur historian, regaled audiences with the story of Sherwood’s ducking. While ostensibly relying on verifiable facts, her version of events drew more from local legend than historical truth. According to Turner, Sherwood was a tall and “very good-looking” woman jealously despised by her neighbors. Their hatred of her culminated in allegations of witchcraft and, ultimately, her ducking. Even though Sherwood was in a dire position when thrown into the Lynnhaven River, she managed to untie herself and swim to the surface. She did so again when she was submerged a second time, despite the fact she had a thirteen-pound Bible tied to her. To the shock of the crowd gathered to watch, she simply waved to them as she swam around the boats singing and laughing. Judged a witch, she was imprisoned for eight years before she was released and given 145 acres of land as restitution for the injustices she endured. The segment ends by showing the house on Muddy Creek Road as Turner describes how Sherwood disappeared into the ashes of her chimney when she died.3

The “Witch of Pungo’s house” was prominently featured several years later in “Witchcraft in America,” an episode of Time Machine with Jack Perkins on the A&E network. Alongside discussions of New England witch trials and the modern Wicca movement, this program featured a long segment about Sherwood’s ducking. As in Our Place, Our Time, producers turned to local Sherwood authorities to tell the story, interviewing Chester Shaffer of Pungo and Edgar Brown, another amateur historian who had collected information about Sherwood for decades. Even though most of the segment was spent explaining the accusations against Sherwood and describing her court cases, pieces of legend were woven into historical events. The show also made full use of local sites associated with Sherwood to ground the narration. As Shaffer stood in front of the house on Muddy Creek Road, he told the audience that neighbors claimed Sherwood was born “part woman, part man, part cat, and a whole lot of devil.” Boarded-up, abandoned, with its kitchen burned out and its porch collapsing, the house offered a striking background for his tale. Ferry Plantation House appeared as well, setting the scene as the program discussed Sherwood’s imprisonment after her trial. Artwork provided by Brown added additional depth to the segment. An illustration of Sherwood in court, for example, depicted her as a beautiful woman in a tight-fitting jacket and pants standing defiantly in front of a judge’s bench. Even though Sherwood looks more like a nineteenth-century aristocrat in riding attire than a seventeenth-century farmer’s wife, the anachronistic picture communicates its point. She was targeted because she was an independent-minded and unconventional woman.4

Even though folklorists frequently argue over how modern media impacts the development of folklore, these broadcasts demonstrate the important role the media plays in sharing local legends. Gone are the days when people had to go somewhere to hear these stories firsthand. Instead, journalists can interview storytellers, gather background information, and package the narrative with compelling pictures. Along the way, what might have remained a local folktale is now shared with anyone watching. Of course, the legends are filtered through editors, writers, and commentators. The way they so effortlessly blend proven fact with long-standing tradition also blurs the line between history and legend. While this mixing has happened ever since Sherwood’s story first appeared in print, modern media has accelerated it. New platforms like YouTube and Spotify have created even more opportunities to spread Sherwood’s story. No longer needing journalists and editors, content creators simply need to be able to make a video that attracts viewers.

These videos and podcasts have introduced Grace Sherwood to an expansive new audience. Even though many people might intentionally search for content about her, they might just as likely have stumbled across her story because platform algorithms recommended it or because they have subscribed to the creator’s channel. Watching from spots across the country and the world, many viewers may only think of Virginia Beach as a resort town, if they are familiar with the city at all. Most never realize it was once Princess Anne County and have never heard of the small rural area of Pungo. The same can be said for many of the content creators themselves. Unlike Louisa Venable Kyle, George Tucker, and Belinda Nash they lack a strong connection to the area and its past.

Many of these videos are simple productions, consisting of nothing more than people recording themselves telling the story. Channels devoted to paranormal tales, true crime, or weird history have been the most drawn to Sherwood’s case. Since many are not local to Virginia Beach, they almost always rely on online sources for their information. Because they use websites like Wikipedia or other podcasts and YouTube videos, their content mostly draws from Belinda Nash’s interpretation of events. It is the version that has received the most coverage in recent years. These videos and podcasts almost always describe Sherwood as beautiful but unconventional, targeted because she was a midwife and healer. They accept that she was accused of causing Elizabeth Hill to miscarry, and when describing her trial and ducking, most incorporate the newest additions to the legend. For example, they describe Sherwood defiantly proclaiming, “I be not a witch; I be a healer!” when ordered to confess her sins in front of Lynnhaven Parish’s congregation.5

To create compelling content, these videos focus on the narrators’ reaction to what they are sharing, highlighting their frustration, anger, and rage over Sherwood’s ordeal. Danielle Sammak, an Australian whose YouTube channel is devoted to “crime, the paranormal, mystery, and more,” could hardly contain her emotion as she described Sherwood being dragged before her church. Almost breaking down into tears, she whispered, “Imagine what she was put through.” Seconds later, after discussing the ducking, she said with frustration, “It’s insane this is actually history.”6 This type of commentary is even more prevalent in podcasts, a medium that relies on the banter between narrators almost as much as it does on its content to gain listeners. When the Witches, Magic, Murder, and Mystery podcast covered Sherwood in August 2021, the narrators discussed the case like a conversation between two friends fascinated by the strangeness of what they uncovered. While the two never became as emotional as Sammak, their commentary echoed many of her reactions. They met each detail of the story with shock and surprise. They also concluded that they would have been friends with the “hot” and iconoclastic Sherwood. Like so many others who have heard her legend, they both suggested that they would have been accused alongside Sherwood if they had lived in her time. They were also ecstatic to learn that there was a statue of this woman who so freely broke the mold and lived on her own terms.7

Based on the comments left for these videos, many viewers have had a similar response to Sherwood’s story. As with the content creators, these reactions are strongest when people feel a sense of kinship with Sherwood. For example, one viewer of the Sherwood discussion on “Legends of History” commented, “Unfortunately a lot of healers were sadly put to death as witches. If I was examined under those ancient laws I would have suffered the same fate. Having an accessory nipple would have sealed my death. Also curing animals and humans of illness was often interpreted on the basis that if you can heal you can also kill. I’m a qualified spiritual healer and a qualified nurse. I work mostly with animals, but have had some success in healing humans.”8 Members of the modern Wiccan community have also identified with Sherwood, imagining her to be one of the forebearers of their traditions. A comment left on another video said, “[Like Sherwood] I am Wiccan and proud. I use herbs for majick [sic] and healing.” It then went on to suggest that the racoon on Sherwood’s statue was her familiar.9

The fact that viewers, listeners, and creators have found ways to connect with Sherwood is not surprising. A similar bond has inspired generations of people in Princess Anne County and Virginia Beach to keep her story alive. What is surprising, however, is that people running across information about Sherwood online have had such strong reactions even though they are not from the area. In this case their emotions are produced solely by the human experience, not a connection to their home. Mediums like YouTube invite this level of connection. Not only are creators incentivized to make content as emotive as possible, but the fact that viewers and listeners can leave feedback allows them to be more than passive consumers of information. They are encouraged to reflect on what they have just watched or heard and to connect it with their own experiences. While audiences have always done this, now they are able to communicate these thoughts to creators and fellow viewers instantaneously. Furthermore, their ability to respond to one another keeps them engaged with the content.

While YouTube and other online platforms offer an unprecedented opportunity for people to learn about Grace Sherwood, there is even more potential for them to miss the line between history and legend. It is also easy to get facts wrong since creators and viewers alike have limited information. This was the case when the Witches, Magic, Murder, and Mystery podcast assumed that Sherwood had been put on trial for bewitching the Gisburnes’ cotton and pigs and for terrorizing Elizabeth Barnes. Even though the narrators knew that Sherwood sued the Barneses and the Gisburnes for slander, they mistakenly believed these suits came after she had been acquitted of performing witchcraft.10 Others have been unable to separate Sherwood’s case from those that occurred in Puritan New England. The Southern Haint Stories podcast, for example, claimed that Sherwood was “marched sixteen miles to the meetinghouse” to face charges, even though Anglican Virginia did not use meetinghouses for their churches. The phenomenally popular Lore podcast made a similar error when it described Pungo as a “Puritan English colony.”11 Even though folktales have always changed as people add new information, incorporated anachronistic details, or altered plot points, new media has accelerated these shifts since stories are often removed from their initial setting.

While many YouTube videos are content to simply narrate Sherwood’s story, others have tried to create a more dynamic experience by using locations in Virginia Beach. Most of these channels operate like video travel logs, hoping to educate viewers and show them compelling sights across the country. For example, the “Walk with History” channel took viewers on a walking tour of Sherwood’s trial. The video begins at her statue and highway marker, discussing her rumored background as a farmer, healer, and midwife. It also mentioned that she was tall and attractive, with a fondness for men’s clothing and a “great sense of humor.” It then described the accusations against her. Moving to Ferry Plantation House, the video mentioned her ducking and imprisonment. It ends at Old Donation Church, which it identified as the spot where she was searched.12 In many ways, the tour on “Walk with History” calls back to earlier generations of residents who heard about Grace Sherwood during the home-and-garden tours that took them to Ferry Plantation House, Old Donation Church, and White Acre. The channel also adopts a more educational tone, trying to put together footage that will help people learn more about the history of Grace Sherwood and the area.

Other creators have fully embraced the eerier potential of Sherwood’s legend. “Campfire Tales from Beyond the Grave” literally recorded their rendition at night by a fire, replicating the experience of campers telling each other ghost stories in the woods.13 Another creator, Brian Neal, filmed himself at Sherwood’s rumored farm along Muddy Creek Road, looking for the remains of the house that burned down in 1993. The dark and grainy footage of Neal and his friends walking along the property mimics found-footage horror films like The Blair Witch Project or reality shows like Ghost Hunters. Occasionally stopping to comment that they heard strange noises, like wolves or waves crashing, they eventually began digging in the spot where they claim the house was located. In the end, they uncover a cinder block, a piece of tile, and other fragments of material. While a skeptical viewer might question why this excavation is happening at night by flashlight or might suspect that Neal planted his discoveries, the authenticity of the video is less important than the mood it creates. It becomes a virtual legend trip that echoes the feelings earlier generations of teenagers had sneaking onto the property.14 Neal’s video shows that even though it was torn down more than thirty years ago, the house is still an important touchstone that gives Sherwood’s legend a sense of tangibility.

Ferry Plantation House continues to provide this connection as well. Of course, since it is a museum with docents eager to talk about Sherwood, it offers more than a potential background for content creators, it provides narrators as well. Their role in creating this content shows that local voices can effectively make use of the potential created by new media platforms. People affiliated with Ferry Plantation have appeared in several documentaries made by students for their classes and extracurricular activities. In 2022, one of these short films even won first place in the Virginia High School League’s video documentary competition.15 This production closely adhered to the historical record, resisting the temptation to incorporate legend details into the story. Another student video made five years earlier playfully used pieces of lore to add drama to the documentary. In addition to interviewing one of Sherwood’s direct descendants and one of the volunteers from Ferry Plantation, the filmmaker made full use of the photogenic appeal of the house. The video not only included several scenes with an actress depicting Sherwood walking around the grounds of the house, but it also provides the backdrop for her physical altercation with Elizabeth Hill.16

While these student documentaries carefully navigate the line between legend and history, a short video produced by the Virginia Beach Surf and Rescue Museum wholeheartedly embraced Sherwood’s status as a protofeminist icon. It begins with a young woman looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. She describes herself as someone who tries to stay healthy, “tackles the world headfirst,” and owns her own business. If she had done these things in 1706, she would have been condemned as a witch. Grace Sherwood was proof of that. Now transformed into Sherwood, the narrator describes herself as a hardworking woman who earned her community’s scorn because she was committed to making the most of her father’s land, used herbal remedies and “old techniques” to keep those around her healthy, and wore her father’s clothes. Suspected of witchcraft, she was ducked and only escaped hanging because politicians were too squeamish to execute her. Instead, they put her in jail for seven years. Back in the present, the narrator, still looking in the mirror, asks, “Why was I ducked?” and concludes it is because she was different. Defiantly, she revels in the fact that “they tried to drown me, but I swam. They tried to hang me, but I lived to eighty. I watched my accusers pass away; I watch my accuser’s children pass away.”17

The different tones used by these creators create different incarnations of Grace Sherwood herself. This result is not surprising. Over the decades, Sherwood has been a young, demure woman who quietly endured the scorn of her community, an outspoken troublemaker who enjoyed creating controversy, an attractive beauty whose looks enchanted men and enraged women, and an unconventional trailblazer who was persecuted for challenging society’s norms. It is also not surprising that Sherwood’s legend has made the leap to new media platforms like YouTube. Stories about her have not only changed over time, but the ways in which they have been told have changed as well. Over the decades, they have been reenacted in public performances, appeared in newspaper articles and books, and turned into melodramatic short stories. They were first shared using the oldest and easiest form of communication of all—neighbors talking to each other. Grace Sherwood’s legend has been an essential part of Princess Anne County’s and Virginia Beach’s folklore ever since a piece of the Lynnhaven River’s shoreline became Witchduck.

Elusively out of reach is Grace Sherwood herself. Having never shared her experience in her own words, she is an unknowable blank space. This silence is why it has been so easy for her to be so many different things to so many different people. It also explains why so many people feel a sense of connection and kinship with her. Since there is no way of knowing what she looked like and what sort of person she was, she can become anything people want her to be. The closest anyone can get to the real Grace Sherwood comes from the documents that have survived from the time she lived. But these records can only provide a glimpse into her life. They describe her economic status and offer some insight into her family life, but she remains a mystery. Moreover, even though these records were written by people who knew her, we are still dependent on what other people have said and written about her. According to the old cliché, nature abhors a vacuum. Folklore does as well. This story will continue to change and evolve, and in time future generations will develop their own versions that will stand alongside today’s. Grace Sherwood may have died in 1740, but the Witch of Pungo will live on.

Notes

Abbreviations

Newspapers

DP Daily Press

VBS Virginia Beach Sun

VP Virginian-Pilot

Archives

EBC Edgar T. Brown Collection, Archives 184, Box 1, Meyera E. Oberndorf Library, Virginia Beach

FPHA Ferry Plantation House Archives

VDHR Virginia Department of Historic Resources Archives, Richmond

Primary Sources

PACDB1 Princess Anne County Deed Book 1

PACDB3 Princess Anne County Deed Book 3

PACMB2 Princess Anne County Minute Book 2

PACMB3 Princess Anne County Minute Book 3

PACOB1 Princess Anne County Order Book 1

Introduction

1. Midge Wilson, “Why Witchduck?,” TVP, March 13, 2008.

2. “In Defense of Witchduck,” TVP, March 16, 2008.

3. “Witch Duck Point,” TVP, November 9, 1967, 1.

4. Katherine Hafner, “Why a Builder Named a Virginia Beach Street after a ‘Witch Doctor’,” TVP, November 30, 2019.

5. A mockup of this sign along with information about its creation can be found in EBC, Folder 3.

6. PACOB1, 445.

7. Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 75–79, 81–82, 85.

8. Starosta, “A National Holiday for Dr. King?,” 370.

1. Early Life

1. Virginia Index of Patents, No. 6, 1666–1679, 528; Wamsley and Cooper, Idols, Victims, Pioneers, 21.

2. Lower Norfolk County Deed Book 4, 85; Kierner, “Grace Sherwood,” 17.

3. James, “Grace Sherwood” (October 1894), 98–99.

4. Bruce, History of Virginia, vol. 1, 274; Wamsley and Cooper, Idols, Victims, Pioneers, 21.

5. Pagan, Anne Orthwood’s Bastard, 15–16; Bond, Damned Souls in a Tobacco Colony, 46; Wertenbaker, Virginia under the Stuarts, 10–13; Horn, Adapting to a New World, 138.

6. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 137; Snyder, Brabbling Women, 95.

7. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 164–65.

8. Turner, Gateway to the New World, 28; The Writers’ Program, Virginia, 241.

9. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 166, 170.

10. Ibid., 168–69.

11. Virginia Index of Patents, No. 6, 1666–1679, 528.

12. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 167.

13. The Writers Program, Virginia: A Guide to the Old Dominion, 88. See also Horn, Adapting to a New World, 197; and Rice, Tales from a Revolution, 4.

14. Fiske, Old Virginia and Her Neighbours, vol. 2, 215.

15. White, Gleanings in the History of Princess Anne County, 7.

16. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 276.

17. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 83; The Writers’ Program, Virginia: A Guide to the Old Dominion, 44; Horn, Adapting to a New World; 256–57, 276.

18. PACDB1, 301.

19. The Writers’ Program, Virginia: A Guide to the Old Dominion, 10–11, 17–19, 101.

20. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 157.

21. Ibid., 144; Axtell, The American People in the Colonial South, 73.

22. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 144–46; Parramore, Stewart, and Bogger, Norfolk, 53.

23. Tarter, Virginians and Their Histories, 68–71; Turner, Gateway to the New World, 116. For examples of individuals paying in pork, see PACOB1, 33, 71, 81, 154, 161, 176.

24. Bruce, History of Virginia, vol. 1, 275–76.

25. A case from 1693 proves that the inhabitants of the area were more than willing to take people to court for disputes related to construction (see PACOB1, 46–47, 49).

26. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 330–31.

27. In 1637, Virginia’s governor tried to require every farm with more than 100 acres to have a brick house, with cellar measuring 24′ × 16′, but this was far beyond the means of most farmers and impossible to enforce (Turner, Gateway to the New World, 32).

28. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 302–3; Wilstach, Tidewater Virginia, 24–25, 70–75, 81.

29. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 305.

30. Turner, Gateway to the New World, 32.

31. Axtell, The American People in the Colonial South, 72; Horn, Adapting to a New World, 139–40.

32. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 24, 137, 145–46; Turner, Gateway to the New World, 124.

33. Wilstach, Tidewater Virginia, 76–78; Turner, Gateway to the New World, 30, 109; Fiske, Old Virginia and Her Neighbours, 209–12.

34. PACDB1, 301.

35. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 312–13, 318–19.

36. Ibid., 313, 320, 322–23.

37. Wamsley and Cooper, Idols, Victims, Pioneers, 24. For examples, see James, “The Church in Lower Norfolk County” (1897), pt. 4, 121–25.

38. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 222–30. For examples of these wills, see PACDB3, 17, 277, 324–25.

39. Lower Norfolk County Deed Book 4, 98.

40. Lower Norfolk County Will Book E, 91; LNCWB 4, 155; Lower Norfolk County Will Book 6, 197; PACOB1, 27, 81, 87, 96, 96, 100, 114, 127, 137, 192; PACDB3, 324–25.

41. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 234, 240–41.

42. Ibid., 170, 237–39, 242–43.

43. Bean, “The Colonial Church in Virginia,” 82; Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 24–25.

44. Pagan, Anne Orthwood’s Bastard, 15–16.

45. Lower Norfolk County Deed Book 4, 98.

46. Pagan, Anne Orthwood’s Bastard, 136.

47. Palmer, Calendar of State Papers and Other Manuscripts, xvi–xxii; Bruce, History of Virginia, vol. 1, 287–88.

48. Boyer and Nissenbaum, Salem Possessed, 52; Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 58.

49. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 99–100.

50. Ibid., 95; Turner, Gateway to the New World, 35–36.

51. PACOB1, 77, 205.

52. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 146.

53. Beaudry, “Insult and Slander in Seventeenth-Century Virginia,” 42–44.

54. Kierner, “Grace Sherwood,” 16; Horn, Adapting to a New World, 366–67.

55. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 99–100.

56. Ibid., 15.

57. Ibid., 28; Snyder, Brabbling Women, 87.

58. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 145, 307; Snyder, Brabbling Women, 59.

59. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 313.

60. James, “The Church in Lower Norfolk County” (1897), pt. 3, 86; Beaudry, “Insult and Slander in Seventeenth-Century Virginia,” 45; Horn, Adapting to a New World, 342, 365.

61. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 310. This reality was not limited to Virginia but instead was the norm throughout England and its colonies (Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 62–63).

62. Snyder, Brabbling Women, 10.

63. Ibid., 2; Kierner, “Grace Sherwood,” 16.

64. Lower Norfolk County Deed Book 5, 137.

65. PACOB1, 113, 218; PACDB3, 106; Princess Anne County Deed Book 4, 173.

66. Lower Norfolk County Deed Book 5, 137.

67. PACOB1, 68.

68. Ibid., 177, 230.

69. For insight into the lives of both Edward Baker, see PACOB1, 93, 253, 284; for Owen MacGavy, see Princess Anne County Deed Book 2, 101; and PACOB1 75, 93, 133, 145, 154, 178.

70. McCleskey and Squire, “Knowing When to Fold,” 512–13.

71. PACDB1, 301.

72. Kierner, “Grace Sherwood,” 17–18.

73. Ibid.

74. PACOB1, 150.

75. This figure was made using inflation calculators provided by the Bank of England and the National Archives of the United Kingdom.

76. In a slander case from 1705, for example, the plaintiff only received 30 shillings, or approximately $70 (PACOB1, 437).

77. PACOB1, 150.

78. Cynthia Kierner has suggested this possibility as well (Kierner, “Grace Sherwood,” 19).

79. Plats of tracts of Princess Anne Land near Grace Sherwood, undated, Historian Kevin Kelly Research Files (Accession 2017-023), Corporate Archives Collection, John D. Rockefeller Jr. Library, Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, Williamsburg, Virginia; PACDB1, 37, 49–51.

80. PACOB1, 26, 29, 34, 42, 89, 100, 152.

81. Ibid., 76.

82. Ibid., 150; McCleskey and Squire, “Knowing When to Fold,” 526.

83. PACOB1, 55.

2. Under Suspicion

1. PACOB1, 176–79.

2. Ibid., 178.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid.

5. Godbeer, Escaping Salem, 145–49; Hole, Witchcraft in England, 9–12.

6. Rice, Tales from a Revolution, 3, 137.

7. Rosen, Witchcraft, 3–4.

8. Bever, The Realities of Witchcraft and Popular Magic in Early Modern Europe, 5.

9. Ibid., 1.

10. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 6.

11. McIlwane, Minutes of the Council and General Court of Colonial Virginia, 111–12; Sobel, The World They Made Together, 83; Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 102.

12. Godbeer, Escaping Salem, 104; Booth, The Witches of Early America, 39; Cross, “Witchcraft in North Carolina,” 246–49.

13. Games, Witchcraft in Early North America, 7–8.

14. Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 25.

15. Sharpe, A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland, 55; Hole, Witchcraft in England, 13.

16. Demos, The Enemy Within, 81; Games, Witchcraft in Early North America, 42–43, 133–37; Neill, Virginia Carolorum, 239–40, 257–59.

17. Hawkins, “Old Superstitions of the 1800s,” 1; Nelson, Thrilling Legends of Virginia; “Witch Tales and Beliefs from the Society Archives,” 67–86; Booth, The Witches of Early America, 41. These beliefs were so frequently incorporated into European and North American folktales that Stith Thompson included them in his motif index (Thompson, Motif-Index of Folk-Literature, G241.1, G241.2, G241.2.1, G241.2.2).

18. Booth, The Witches of Early America, 41–44; Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 88–89.

19. Booth, The Witches of Early America, 44; Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 89; PACOB1, 168.

20. Cross, “Witchcraft in North Carolina,” 277; Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 23.

21. Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 65; Bever, The Realities of Witchcraft and Popular Magic in Early Modern Europe, 69; Levack, The Witch-Hunt in Early Modern Europe, 43.

22. Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 22–23.

23. Hole, Witchcraft in England, 55; Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 27.

24. Sharpe, A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland, 95–96; Booth, The Witches of Early America, 37.

25. Thompson, Motif-Index of Folk-Literature, G211, G263; Baughman, Type and Motif-Index of the Folktales of England and North America, D683.2.

26. Hawkins, “An Old Witch Story.”

27. Cross, “Witchcraft in North Carolina,” 277–78.

28. Sharpe, A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland, 21, 34; Bever, The Realities of Witchcraft and Popular Magic in Early Modern Europe, 154.

29. Rosen, Witchcraft, 83–91, 305–9.

30. “Witchcraft in Connecticut,” 802–3.

31. Bever, The Realities of Witchcraft and Popular Magic in Early Modern Europe, 273–86.

32. Painter, “An Early 18th Century Witch Bottle,” 62.

33. Ibid., 68.

34. Cross, “Witchcraft in North Carolina,” 258, 277–78, 281, 285.

35. Demos, The Enemy Within, 16, 95; Butler, “Magic, Astrology, and the Early American Religious Heritage,” 319–20; Sharpe, A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland, 212; Rosen, Witchcraft, 7.

36. Godbeer, Escaping Salem, 107; Demos, The Enemy Within, 100.

37. Butler, “Magic, Astrology, and the Early American Religious Heritage,” 334; Sharpe, A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland, 18.

38. Butler, “Magic, Astrology, and the Early American Religious Heritage,” 331–32; Burr, Narratives of the Witchcraft Cases, 1648–1706, 406; Boyer and Nissenbaum, Salem Possessed, 23. Even today it is common for believers to blame things like Ouija boards for causing demonic possessions and hauntings (see Amorth, An Exorcist Tells His Story, 144–49; and Brittle, The Demonologist, 78, 129).

39. Hole, Witchcraft in England, 76, 100.

40. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 97–98. For more on the persecution of midwives in other places, see Forbes, “Midwifery and Witchcraft,” 264–80; and Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 20–21, 142.

41. McIlwane, Minutes of the Council and General Court of Colonial Virginia, 111–12; Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 102; Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 75–79.

42. Games, Witchcraft in Early North America, 13.

43. James, “Witchcraft in Virginia,” 127.

44. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 47–52; Bever, The Realities of Witchcraft and Popular Magic in Early Modern Europe, 49–54.

45. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, xii–xiii, 18.

46. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 30; Bever, The Realities of Witchcraft and Popular Magic in Early Modern Europe, 42.

47. Games, Witchcraft in Early North America, 13.

48. Sharpe, A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland, 86.

49. Kramer and Sprenger, The Malleus Maleficarum, 41–48, 66, 109–22.

50. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 64; Bever, The Realities of Witchcraft and Popular Magic in Early Modern Europe, 47.

51. Boyer and Nissenbaum, Salem Possessed, 204.

52. Rosen, Witchcraft, 29, 355–68; Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 28; Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 52–61; Burr, Narratives of the Witchcraft Cases, 1648–1706, 198.

53. Howe, The Penguin Book of Witches, 92–94.

54. Demos, The Enemy Within, 32–33.

55. Godbeer, Escaping Salem, 4–5.

56. Games, Witchcraft in Early North America, 3–4.

57. Plats of tracts of Princess Anne Land near Grace Sherwood, undated, Historian Kevin Kelly Research Files (Accession 2017-023), Corporate Archives Collection, John D. Rockefeller Jr. Library, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, Williamsburg, Virginia; PACDB3, 294.

58. Lower Norfolk County Deed Book 4, 85.

59. PACOB1, 179.

60. Ibid., 286, 305; Lower Norfolk County Will Book E, 19, 22, 29, 185; LNCWB4, 41, 128, 155; LNCWB5, 12, 168; Lower Norfolk County Will Book 6, 170; Princess Anne County Will Book 1, 281.

61. PACOB1, 477; Princess Anne County Deed Book 2 2, 5, 11, 13, 34, 124; PACDB3, 3, 80, 93, 94, 144.

62. PACDB1, 35; Princess Anne County Deed Book 4, 458.

63. LNCWB5, 23a; PACOB1, 66, 92, 243, 245, 249, 266, 481.

64. PACOB1, 27, 34, 36, 313.

65. PACDB1, 24; PACOB1, 132, 163.

66. LNCWB5, 21; PACMB3, 154; Princess Anne County Deed Book 4 105, 286.

67. LNCWB5, 15; PACOB1 36, 68, 159, 170.

68. PACOB1, 173.

69. Ibid., 337.

70. Ibid., 35, 36, 99, 106–9, 136, 176, 187, 361.

71. Ibid., 79–80.

72. Ibid., 207.

73. Ibid., 215.

3. Ducked

1. PACOB1, 230.

2. Tarter, Virginians and Their Histories, 67, 88.

3. Snyder, Brabbling Women, 122–23; Horn, Adapting to a New World, 223–30.

4. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 189–210; Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 290.

5. Snyder, Brabbling Women, 123.

6. Ibid., 118; Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 29; Demos, The Enemy Within, 45.

7. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 287–89.

8. Snyder, Brabbling Women, 117–18.

9. Horn, Adapting to a New World, 206; Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 203–6.

10. PACOB1, 289; PACDB1, 301, 335.

11. Kierner, “Grace Sherwood,” 22.

12. PACOB1, 426.

13. Ibid., 55, 69, 71, 150, 249, 357, 398, 402; PACDB1, 37, 80–81, 150–51.

14. McCleskey and Squire, “Knowing When to Fold,” 526.

15. PACOB1, 180, 252, 264, 360.

16. Ibid., 180.

17. Ibid., 426.

18. Ibid., 437.

19. Ibid., 426.

20. Ibid., 111, 116, 145, 153, 178, 180, 212, 224, 232, 237, 259, 289, 315, 412.

21. Ibid., 426.

22. Ibid., 179.

23. Ibid., 429.

24. Booth, The Witches of Early America, 87; Rosen, Witchcraft, 17.

25. PACOB1, 429

26. Ibid., 433.

27. Sharpe, A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland, 105; Hole, Witchcraft in England, 46–48; Games, Witchcraft in Early North America, 7–8.

28. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 53; Howe, The Penguin Book of Witches, 55–57; Booth, The Witches of Early America, 79, 83; Sharpe, A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland, 209.

29. “Witchcraft in Connecticut,” 222.

30. Dalton, The Countrey Justice, 342.

31. Booth, The Witches of Early America, 78.

32. Hutchinson, An Historical Essay Concerning Witchcraft, 176–77.

33. Boulton, The Possibility and Reality of Magick, Sorcery, and Witchcraft Demonstrated, 125–26.

34. Booth, The Witches of Early America, 78.

35. Hutchinson, An Historical Essay Concerning Witchcraft, 222.

36. Sharpe, A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland, 113; Booth, The Witches of Early America, 82.

37. James, “Witchcraft in Virginia,” 128.

38. PACOB1, 436.

39. Ibid., 436.

40. Ibid., 433.

41. Ibid., 436.

42. Ibid., 228, 431, 436.

43. PACDB3, 233.

44. Rankin, “The General Court of Colonial Virginia,” 153; Pagan, Anne Orthwood’s Bastard, 51.

45. Turner, Gateway to the New World, 49; “Libraries in Colonial Virginia” (1894), 170–71; “Libraries in Colonial Virginia” (1894), 133; “Libraries in Colonial Virginia” (October 1899), 78; “Libraries in Colonial Virginia” (July 1899), 20.

46. James, “Captain William Carver,” 163–65.

47. Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 75–89.

48. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 20.

49. Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 35–36.

50. Levack, The Witch-Hunt in Early Modern Europe, 198–99, 202.

51. Demos, The Enemy Within, 88.

52. Parramore, Stewart, and Bogger, Norfolk, 57.

53. Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 98; PACOB1, 443–45.

54. Rosen, Witchcraft, 19–21; Hole, Witchcraft in England, 17–21.

55. Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 65, 73–74.

56. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 118–19; Games, Witchcraft in Early North America, 10.

57. “Witchcraft in Connecticut,” 799–802; Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 160.

58. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 186.

59. Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 45–47; Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 285; Gibson, Witchcraft Myths in American Culture, 15; “Witchcraft in Connecticut,” 791.

60. Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 163; Rosen, Witchcraft, 6; Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 14.

61. Gibson, Witchcraft Myths in American Culture, 15.

62. Rosen, Witchcraft, 54–56.

63. Rankin, “The General Court of Colonial Virginia,” 143.

64. PACOB1, 433.

65. Palmer, Calendar of Virginia State Papers and Other Manuscripts, 1652–1781, vol. 1, 100.

66. Ibid.

67. Godbeer, Escaping Salem, 89.

68. Dalton, The Countrey Justice, 341.

69. Godbeer, Escaping Salem, 90; Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 187.

70. Karlsen, The Devil in the Shape of a Woman, 13; Rosen, Witchcraft, 14; Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 57, 183–84; Games, Witchcraft in Early North America, 15–16; Hole, Witchcraft in England, 63.

71. Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 33, 154–56.

72. Boyer and Nissenbaum, Salem Possessed, 18; Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 30, 99.

73. Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 8, 207–9.

74. Ibid., 208.

75. Scot, The Discoverie of Witchcraft, 1–40; Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 5; Games, Witchcraft in Early North America, 84–86; Demos, The Enemy Within, 53.

76. Lower Norfolk County Deed Book 5, 58a.

77. PACOB1, 439.

78. Ibid., 442.

79. Hole, Witchcraft in England, 67.

80. Rosen, Witchcraft, 19.

81. Ibid.

82. Ibid., 334–43.

83. PACOB1, 445.

84. Hole, Witchcraft in England, 68, 149.

85. PACOB1, 445.

86. Hutchinson, An Historical Essay Concerning Witchcraft, 172.

87. Ibid., 173.

88. John Whiting’s letter to Increase Mather, October 4, 1682, in Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society, 466–69.

89. Booth, The Witches of Early America, 49–50.

90. Gaskill, Witchfinders.

91. PACOB1, 444.

92. Ibid.

93. Forrest, Historical and Descriptive Sketches of Norfolk and Vicinity, 465–66; Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Bayside History Trail, 38–40.

94. PACOB1, 445.

95. Ibid., 445.

4. Rediscovering Witchduck’s Witch

1. PACOB1, 445.

2. Alice Stephens was tried in the General Court in 1665, but it is unclear if she was convicted. The record only states that she “was not cleared”; there is no mention of a punishment, and she was clearly not executed (Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 85).

3. Bruce, Institutional History of Virginia, 667–71.

4. Bond, Damned Souls in a Tobacco Colony, 134–54; Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 29–30.

5. PACOB1, 476.

6. PACMB2, 85.

7. PACMB2, 207; PACMB3, 31, 33, 248, 298.

8. PACMB2, 146.

9. Ibid., 103.

10. PACMB3, 260; Princess Anne County Minute Book 4, 5.

11. PACDB3, 123; PACMB2, 199.

12. PACMB2, 213; PACMB3, 132

13. PACMB3, 38; PACDB3, 233.

14. PACDB3, 17; PACMB2, 171.

15. PACDB3, 138–39, 283; Kierner, “Grace Sherwood,” 30n21.

16. PACDB3, 277.

17. PACMB3, 11, 29, 34, 41, 318.

18. Ibid., 309.

19. Princess Anne County Deed Book 4, 516.

20. PACDB5, 501.

21. Burr, Narratives of the Witchcraft Cases, 300–302; see also John Hale’s A Modest Inquiry, reprinted in Burr, 400–425.

22. Hudson, Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia, 99; Butler, “Magic, Astrology, and the Early American Religious Heritage,” 335–37.

23. Whichard, The History of Lower Tidewater Virginia, vol. 2, 56.

24. Hole, Witchcraft in England, 112

25. Howe, The Penguin Book of Witches, 226–28; Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 7, 210–11.

26. Gibson, Witchcraft Myths in American Culture, 31.

27. Ibid., 39.

28. Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 261.

29. Ibid., 261.

30. Ibid., 244.

31. Palmer, Calendar of Virginia State Papers and Other Manuscripts, 1652–1781, xi, xiv–xv.

32. “A Discourse,” 24.

33. Cushing, Collections of the Virginia Historical and Philosophical Society, 3–4, 11–12.

34. Ibid., 71.

35. See, for example, Axtell, The American People in the Colonial South, 162–65.

36. Cushing, Collections of the Virginia Historical and Philosophical Society, 73–78.

37. Ibid., 71.

38. Jane Bloodworth Rowe, “19th Century Court Clerk Known for Preserving Local Records,” TVP, June 14, 2009, 25.

39. Ibid.; Frank Sullivan, “Princess Anne Honors Clear Who Gave Witch Trial Record,” TVP, October 1, 1947, 29.

40. Cushing, Collections of the Virginia Historical and Philosophical Society, 78.

41. “Reminiscences of Philadelphia, No. II,” 162.

42. “Trial for Witchcraft,”96.

43. “The History of Virginia,” 788.

44. Forrest, Historical and Descriptive Sketches of Norfolk and Vicinity, 455.

45. Ibid., 464.

46. Ibid., 465.

47. Behringer, Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria, 2.

48. Gibson, Witchcraft Myths in American Culture, 40–41; Demos, The Enemy Within, 190–91.

49. “A Discourse,” 28.

50. H. Howe, Historical Collections of Virginia, 436.

51. Baker, A Storm of Witchcraft, 268.

52. “The Church in Virginia,” 1006, reprinted in Episcopal Recorder, 170.

53. Ibid.

54. Drake, Annals of Witchcraft in New England and Elsewhere in the United States, 210.

55. Ibid., 211, 214–15.

56. Ibid., 214.

57. A Virginian, “Old Times in Virginia and a Few Parallels,” 207.

58. Ibid.

59. Ibid.

60. Ibid., 208.

61. Tarter, Virginians and Their Histories, 258–85. For a more comprehensive look at the challenges of Reconstruction, see Foner, Reconstruction.

62. Tarter, Virginians and Their Histories, 298–305.

63. For examples of the tendency to identify African American people by their race, see PACOB1, 66, 92, 223, 384, 411, 476. See also McCleskey, The Road to Black Ned’s Forge, 77–78, 86–87, 114–20.

64. Rice, Tales from a Revolution, 195; Turner, Gateway to the New World, 90–94; Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 110–19, 125–27; Wilkinson, “People of Mixed Ancestry in the Seventeenth-Century Chesapeake,” 114–20.

65. Ingle, “A Virginia Witch,” 426–27.

66. Ibid., 425, 427.

67. “November Magazines,” Banner of Light, November 17, 1883, 2.

68. Cooke, “Grace Sherwood: The One Virginia Witch,” 99–101.

69. Beaty, “John Esten Cooke (1830–1886).”

70. Cooke, “Greenway Court; or, the Bloody Ground,” 52.

71. Travelers’ Record, June 1884, 6. Cooke’s piece is also referenced in Ingersoll, “Within the Capes of Virginia,” 148–59.

72. “Witchcraft in Virginia,” 127–29.

73. Ibid.

74. James, “Grace Sherwood” (October 1894), 96–101; (January 1895), 190–92; (April 1895), 242–45; (July 1895), 18–22.

75. James, “Grace Sherwood” (July 1895), 244, 19–22.

76. James, “Grace Sherwood” (October 1894), 96.

5. Fantastical Legends

1. Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables, 16–17.

2. Cooke, “Grace Sherwood: The One Virginia Witch,” 102.

3. Ingle, “A Virginia Witch,” 427.

4. “The Story of Grace Sherwood,” 2–3.

5. Taylor, The Ghosts of Tidewater and Nearby Environs, 173.

6. Bill McLaughlin, “‘Ghostwriter:’ Local Author Publishes Novel on Tidewater Haunts,” DP, August 8, 1990; “L. B. Taylor Jr., a Writer Known for His Book Series ‘Ghosts of Virginia,’ Dies at 81,” Richmond Times-Dispatch, July 22, 2014.

7. Taylor, The Big Book of Virginia Ghost Stories, 298.

8. Dégh, Legend and Belief, 112.

9. Goldstein, Grider, and Thomas, Haunting Experiences, 30–45.

10. Oliver, “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne,” 39.

11. Squires, The Days of Yester-Year, 70.

12. In this way, legends act as a form of collective memory. For a discussion of collective memory, see Barthes, Mythologies, 255–57; Blatz and Ross, “Historical Memories,” 223–24; and Halbwachs, On Collective Memory, 40, 60. For more on the way historical events are reflected in legend, see Dorson, America in Legend.

13. Dégh, Legend and Belief, 6, 98; Dégh and Vázsonyi, The Dialectics of the Legend.

14. Oliver, “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne,” 37.

15. Cooke, “Grace Sherwood: The One Virginia Witch,” 99–100.

16. See Ingersoll, “Within the Capes of Virginia,” 149; Ashton, The Devil in Britain and America, 314.

17. “Grace Sherwood, Virginia’s Witch, Convicted by a Jury of Women and Drowned in Lynhaven [sic] River,” TVP, January 4, 1920, pt. 5, p. 2.

18. Ibid.

19. Ibid.

20. Ibid.

21. Versions where she went to England include Anne Forman Ellis, “Quaint History and Queer Legend Await Inquiring Autoist,” TVP, January 1, 1930, pt. 2, p. 3; Virginia Waller Davis, “‘Firsts’ Abound in Old Princess Anne County,” TVP, June 26, 1940, H4; George Holbert Tucker, “Princess Ann’s [sic] Double Witch,” TVP, November 13, 1949; Elizabeth Dabney Coleman, “The Witchcraft Delusion Rejected,” Virginia Cavalcade 6, no. 1 (Summer 1956), 28; and Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 45. Sources that have her going to the Mediterranean are “Princess Anne County’s Witch: Grace Sherwood” (undated printed presentation), EBC, Folder 1; “Witch of Pungo” information sheet, Fact and Fiction, 4, EBC, Folder 1; and Mary Reid Barrow, “Supernatural or Not—Witch Was She?,” TVP, August 19, 1981.

22. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 45; Princess Anne County’s Witch: Grace Sherwood; “Witch of Pungo” information sheet; Beverly Campbell, “When Virginia Ducked Milady Witch,” Richmond Times-Dispatch, December 30, 1934; Barrow, “Supernatural or Not”; Mary Reid Barrow, “Beach in Need of Some Spiritual Help,” TVP, October 28, 1987.

23. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 45

24. Ibid., 52.

25. Whichard, The History of Lower Tidewater Virginia, vol. 2, 60.

26. Anne Bright interview; Al Henley interview.

27. “The Story of Grace Sherwood, ‘The Witch of Pungo,” Fact and Fiction, 4; Henley, Glimpses of Down-County History, 18.

28. Scot, The Discoverie of Witchcraft, 8; Browne, Pseudodoxia Epidemica, 19.

29. Johnson, Witches and Demons in History and Folklore, 55.

30. See Christiansen, The Migratory Legends; Brunvand, The Vanishing Hitchhiker; and Blank and Puglia, Maryland Legends.

31. Ellis, “Quaint History and Queer Legend Await Inquiring Autoist,” pt. 2, p. 3; Oliver, “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne,” 37.

32. Booth, The Witches of Early America, 76.

33. Willard Homan, “An Early Virginia Witch,” Jamestown Magazine 1 (September 1906), 48; reprinted in Scranton Republican, August 25, 1906, 10.

34. Squires, The Days of Yester-Year, 71–73.

35. Tucker, “Princess Ann’s [sic] Double Witch.”

36. George H. Tucker, “Tidewater Landfalls: Devil in Princess Anne,” TVP, July 23, 1959, 25.

37. George H. Tucker, “Tidewater Landfalls: Season for Sailing,” TVP, March 1, 1962, 29.

38. G. H. Tucker, Virginia Supernatural Tales, 103.

39. George H. Tucker, “Bewitching Beach Woman Sparked Legends,” TVP, July 16, 2000.

40. Eighmey, The Beach, 30; Taylor, The Big Book of Virginia Ghost Stories, 298; Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Ghosts, Witches & Weird Tales of Virginia Beach, 127; Hines, Virginia Myths and Legends, 4. Versions where she flies to England can be found in Johnson, Witches and Demons in History and Folklore, 56; Connie Kellam and Marianne Matson, Kids at the Beach: A Family Guide to Virginia Beach, 12, Famous and Notable People: Sherwood, Grace, Meyera E. Oberndorf Library, Virginia Beach.

41. Thompson, Motif-Index of Folk-Literature, G213.2; Baughman, Type and Motif-Index of the Folktales of England and North America, D2142.0.1.2.

42. Squires, The Days of Yester-Year, 75–76.

43. Tucker, “Princess Ann’s [sic] Double Witch”; George H. Tucker, “Tidewater Landfalls: Hard-Boiled Blastronaut,” TVP, February 15, 1962, 31; G. H. Tucker, Virginia Supernatural Tales, 101; G. H. Tucker, “Bewitching Beach Woman Sparked Legends.”

44. “The Witch of Pungo” Grace White Sherwood Fables, EBC, Folder 1.

45. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 46.

46. Taylor, The Big Book of Virginia Ghost Stories, 298; Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Ghosts, Witches & Weird Tales of Virginia Beach, 127; Hines, Virginia Myths and Legends, 4; “The Story of Grace Sherwood, ‘The Witch of Pungo,’ Fact and Fiction,” EBC, Folder 1.

47. G. H. Tucker, “Princess Ann’s [sic] Double Witch”; G. H. Tucker, “Tidewater Landfalls: Hard-Boiled Blastronaut,” 31.

48. G. H. Tucker, Virginia Supernatural Tales, 102–3; G. H. Tucker, “Bewitching Beach Woman Sparked Legends.”

49. Squires, The Days of Yester-Year, 76–77.

50. Ibid., 76.

51. Kyle’s version is the exception, even though she mentions that the sheriff was in the crowd, she does not provide a specific setting (Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 45).

52. Ellis, “Quaint History and Queer Legend Await Inquiring Autoist,” pt. 2, p. 3.

53. Oliver, “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne,” 38.

54. Mary Reid Barrow, “Beach in Need of Some Spiritual Help,” TVP, October 28, 1987.

55. Eighmey, The Beach, 30.

56. Squires, The Days of Yester-Year, 77; G. H. Tucker, “Devil in Princess Anne,” 25; G. H. Tucker, “Bewitching Beach Woman Sparked Legends.” Witches transforming so they can fly or using enchanted objects to fly are a common element of Western folklore (see Thompson, Motif-Index of Folk-Literature, G263; and Baughman, Type and Motif-Index of the Folktales of England and North America, D1531.8).

57. “The Story of Grace Sherwood,” 3, Rare Books Collection, Virginia Historical Society.

58. Oliver, “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne,” 38. These rumors are similar to other legends shared throughout Europe and the United States (Thompson, Motif-Index of Folk-Literature, G222.2).

59. Squires, The Days of Yester-Year, 73.

60. G. H. Tucker, “Princess Ann’s [sic] Double Witch.”

61. Oliver, “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne,” 37; G. H. Tucker, Virginia Supernatural Tales, 101; Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Ghosts, Witches & Weird Tales of Virginia Beach, 217.

62. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 52. For nearly identical versions of the legend, see Turner, Gateway to the New World, 80; Princess Anne County’s Witch: Grace Sherwood, EBC, Folder 1; and Eighmey, The Beach, 30.

63. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 45; Turner, Gateway to the New World, 80; Eighmey, The Beach, 30.

64. Taylor, The Ghosts of Williamsburg, 44–45.

65. Harden, The Devil’s Tramping Ground, 45–52.

66. Oliver, “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne,” 38. For other versions of this legend, see Squires, The Days of Yester-Year, 77; G. H. Tucker, “Devil in Princess Anne,” 25; G. H. Tucker, Virginia Supernatural Tales, 101; “Witch of Pungo” information sheet, 4, ECB, Folder 1; Taylor, The Big Book of Virginia Ghost Stories, 298; Henley, Glimpses of Down-County History, 18; and Chewning interview.

67. Mary Reid Barrow, “Tune in to Hear the Story of Pungo Witch,” TVP, July 15, 1993. See also Nash and Sheets, A Place in Time, 136–38; “The Story of Grace Sherwood, ‘The Witch of Pungo,” Fact and Fiction, 5, ECB, Folder 1; Chewning, Haunted Virginia Beach, 90; Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Ghosts, Witches & Weird Tales of Virginia Beach, 128.

68. Jimmy Moreland, “The Witch of Pungo: The Story of Grace Sherwood,” paper for REL 6911, 1998, 27, EBC, Folder 1. See also Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Ghosts, Witches & Weird Tales of Virginia Beach, 128; Thompson, Curiosities of Hampton Roads, 24; Richter interview. Western folklore has long considered cats to be servants of witches (Thompson, Motif-Index of Folk-Literature, G225.3).

69. G. H. Tucker, “Princess Ann’s [sic] Double Witch”; G. H. Tucker, “Devil in Princess Anne,” 25; G. H. Tucker, Virginia Supernatural Tales, 104; G. H. Tucker, “Bewitching Beach Woman Sparked Legends”; George H. Tucker, “For Centuries, Women Have Spiced up Virginia,” TVP, March 6, 2005.

70. “Witch of Pungo” information sheet, 4, EBC, Folder 1, Virginia Beach Public Library; Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Ghosts, Witches & Weird Tales of Virginia Beach, 128; Chewning, Haunted Virginia Beach, 89; Eighmey, The Beach, 30.

6. “True” Stories

1. G. H. Tucker, “Princess Ann’s [sic] Double Witch”; G. H. Tucker, Virginia Supernatural Tales, 97.

2. Jan Harold Brunvand provides a contemporary example of this phenomenon in Curses! Broiled Again!, 278–83. See also Dorson, America in Legend.

3. Cooke, “Grace Sherwood: The One Virginia Witch,” 99.

4. Ibid., 100.

5. Ibid.

6. Ibid., 101.

7. Ibid.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid., 101–2.

10. Orians, “New England Witchcraft in Fiction,” 54–71.

11. Stone, Tales and Sketches, 9–50.

12. For an overview of Gothic conventions, see Hogle, The Cambridge Companion to Gothic Fiction, 1–20.

13. Campbell, “When Virginia Ducked Milady Witch.” Bacon’s Rebellion was one of the most important events in colonial Virginia; for more, see Rice, Tales from a Revolution.

14. Ibid.

15. Ibid.

16. Ibid.

17. Ibid.

18. Ibid.

19. Ibid.

20. Edmunds, Tales of the Virginia Coast, 69–70.

21. Ibid., 71–72.

22. Ibid., 72–73.

23. Pryor, The Mother of Washington and Her Times, 43. Pryor’s description is repeated almost verbatim in Gummere, Witchcraft and Quakerism, 37.

24. Homan, “An Early Virginia Witch,” A10.

25. “Grace Sherwood, Virginia’s Witch,” pt. 5, p. 2.

26. “Panorama of Primeval Nature Greets Eye from Cupola of the New Cavalier,” TVP, April 9, 1927, 12.

27. “Witch Ducking Pond in Princess Anne,” TVP, May 12, 1927, pt. 2, p. 8.

28. “The Story of Grace Sherwood,” 1–2.

29. Coleman, “The Witchcraft Delusion Rejected,” 29, 34.

30. Anne Forman Ellis, “Quaint History and Queer Legend Await Inquiring Autoist,” TVP, January 1, 1930, pt. 3, p. 2.

31. Taylor, Ghosts of Tidewater, 169.

32. Taylor, The Big Book of Virginia Ghost Stories, 295.

33. Richter interview.

34. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Three, 26–27.

35. Anne Bright interview. See also Kate Wiltrout, “Event Tells of Life in Pungo before It Became the Beach—Older Residents Share Stories of Tent Shows, Drafty Schoolhouses and Country Stores,” TVP, April 7, 2003, B4; and Anne Bright, “Why Would Anyone Want to Be a Witch?,” Princess Anne Independent News, June 18, 2015.

36. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Three, 26.

37. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 52

38. Louisa Venable Kyle, “With Mind and Muscle Today’s Woman Can Fulfill Yearning (In Colonial Virginia She’d Have Been Candidate for Burning): A Country Woman’s Scrapbook,” TVP, October 26, 1952, pt. 5, p. 4.

39. “Story of Virginia’s One Official Witch Is Told in Pageant in Princess Anne,” TVP, May 13, 1934, pt. 4 p. 2; Elizabeth Walker White, “Legend of ‘Witch’ Sherwood Haunts Princess Anne County,” TVP, April 25, 1954, pt. 6, p. 2.

40. See, for example, Painter, “An Early 18th Century Witch Bottle,” 62; Turner, Gateway to the New World, 79; Mary Reid Barrow, “Tune in to Hear the Story of Pungo Witch,” TVP, July 15, 1993, B1–2; M. J. Knoblock, “Virginia’s First Lady Bewitched by Legend of Pungo Enchantress,” VBS, May 19, 1995, 1; Bob Ruegsegger, “Virginia Beach’s Own Witch Makes for Perfect Halloween Storytelling,” TVP, October 31, 2004, V18; Chewning, Haunted Virginia Beach, 84; Chewning interview; Richter interview; and Anne Bright interview.

41. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Two, 16.

42. Dicker, A History of U.S. Feminisms, 52–106.

43. Squires, The Days of Yester-Year, 68.

44. Kyle, “With Mind and Muscle Today’s Woman Can Fulfill Yearning,” pt. 5, p. 4.

45. Painter, “An Early 18th Century Witch Bottle,” 65.

46. “Any Witch Way: Grace Sherwood’s 1706 Trial Left Little Room for Doubt,” TVP, October 31, 2004, 3. For more descriptions of Sherwood as a “nonconformist,” see Bob Ruegsegger, “In Search of Grace Sherwood,” VBS, September 5, 1997, 10; untitled printed page about Sherwood, EBC, Folder 2; Denise Watson Batts, “‘Witch of Pungo’ Pardoned by Governor after 300 years,” TVP, July 11, 2006; and Anne Bright, “Why Would Anyone Want to Be a Witch?,” Princess Anne Independent News, June 18, 2015.

47. Bob Ruegsegger, “Sherwood Descendants Bewitched by a Legend,” VBS, January 21, 2000.

48. Margaret Windley, “Strong Women Will Be Explored as a Part of September Project,” TVP, September 4, 2005, V24.

49. Guy Friddell, “Shirt Shows a Multitude of Multitudes,” TVP, May 25, 2000; Suzanne Fields, “The Politics of Witchcraft and Trial by Water,” TVP, August 24, 2006.

50. Sheppard, Hampton Roads Murder and Mayhem, 32, 37, 41.

51. George Holbert Tucker, “A Dunked Witch Cackled as Hundreds Were Drenched,” TVP, April 11, 1964, 10B; G. H. Tucker, Virginia Supernatural Tales, 98; Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Ghosts, Witches & Weird Tales of Virginia Beach, 126.

52. Kinney, Haunted Virginia, 166.

53. Bob Ruegsegger, “Skinny-Dipping at Witchduck Point with a Legend,” VBS, July 3, 1998. See also Dorothy Robbins, “October Skies Bring Witch Tales to Mind,” TVP, October 11, 1953, sec. 6, pp. 7–8; N127a, 1964; untitled printed page about Sherwood, EBC, Folder 2; Ruegsegger, “Virginia Beach’s Own Witch Makes for Perfect Halloween Storytelling,” 18; Lori Denney, “Things That Go Bump in the Night,” TVP, October 31, 1997, 6; and “Any Witch Way: Grace Sherwood’s 1706 Trial Left Little Room for Doubt,” TVP, October 31, 2004, 3.

54. Homan, “An Early Virginia Witch,” 48.

55. Lawrence Maddry, “Pungo Witch Still Casts Her Spell,” D2, EBC, Folder 2.

56. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 43.

57. Whichard, The History of Lower Tidewater Virginia, 59.

58. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 44. For a selection of sources that make this claim, see, for example Whichard, The History of Lower Tidewater Virginia, 56; G. H. Tucker, “A Dunked Witch Cackled as Hundreds Were Drenched,” 10B; Lawrence Maddry, “It’s Easy to Come under the Spell of Theatrical Witch’s Trial,” TVP, October 18, 1989, A-14; and Agnes White Thomas, “Meet Grace Sherwood—A Genuine Witch,” TVP, April 28, 1957, E4.

59. “The Story of Grace Sherwood, ‘The Witch of Pungo,” Fact and Fiction, 1. “Any Witch Way: Grace Sherwood’s 1706 Trial Left Little Room for Doubt,” 3, alleges she was tied to a chair.

60. Donald Moore, “What’s in a Name?,” TVP, September 7, 1979, 2. See also “Any Witch Way: Grace Sherwood’s 1706 Trial Left Little Room for Doubt,” 3; Sonja Barisic, “Kaine Pardons ‘Witch,’ Voiding a Trial That Wouldn’t Float Today,” DP, July 11, 2006, A87.

61. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 48; Painter, “An Early 18th Century Witch Bottle,” 63.

62. Homan, “An Early Virginia Witch,” 48; “Witch of Pungo” information sheet, EBC, Folder 1; Knoblock, “Virginia’s First Lady Bewitched by Legend of Pungo Enchantress,” 5; Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 48; Ruegsegger, “Virginia Beach’s Own Witch Makes for Perfect Halloween Storytelling,” V18; Thompson, Curiosities of Hampton Roads, 24.

63. “Grace Sherwood, Virginia’s Witch, Convicted by a Jury of Women and Drowned in Lynhaven [sic] River,” pt. 5, p. 2.

64. Oliver, “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne,” 37.

65. Painter, “An Early 18th Century Witch Bottle,” 63; Kyle, The Witch of Pungo, 48. See also Ruegsegger, “Who Put the ‘Witch’ in Witchduck?”; Turner, Gateway to the New World, 80–81. The earliest version of this comes from Anne Forman Ellis, “Quaint History and Queer Legend Await Inquiring Autoist,” TVP, January 1, 1930, pt. 2, p. 3.

66. Maddry, “Pungo Witch Still Casts Her Spell”; James McDevitt, “Witch Dunker Hit of Science Fair,” TVP, April 30, 1967, 19.

67. Richter interview. See also Denise Watson Batts, “‘Witch of Pungo’ Pardoned by Governor after 300 Years,” TVP, July 11, 2006; Knoblock, “Virginia’s First Lady Bewitched by Legend of Pungo Enchantress,” 1; Maddry, “Pungo Witch Still Casts Her Spell,” D2; and Turner, Gateway to the New World, 81. See also Hines, Virginia Myths and Legends, 9.

68. Tucker, “A Dunked Witch Cackled as Hundreds Were Drenched,” 10B; Tucker, “Princess Ann’s [sic] Double Witch”; Eighmey, The Beach, 30. See also Oliver, “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne,” 37; and Johnson, Witches and Demons in History and Folklore, 40.

69. “Grace Sherwood, Virginia’s Witch, Convicted by a Jury of Women and Drowned in Lynhaven [sic] River,” pt. 5, p. 4. Sherwood ducking the crowd further reflects the influence of long-standing folk traditions about witches on Sherwood’s legend. There have been tales about witches controlling and predicting the weather for centuries (Baughman, Type and Motif-Index of the Folktales of England and North America, D1812.0.2.4[b]).

70. Nash and Sheets, A Place in Time, 130; Richter interview.

71. For examples of sources that allege nine years imprisonment, see Kerry Dougherty, “Ghosts Play Disappearing Act,” TVP, November 1, 1990; Denis Watson Batts, “Spell as ‘Witch’ Proclaimed Over,” TVP, July 11, 2006, A1; Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Two, 16; and Bright, “Why Would Anyone Want to Be a Witch?” Those claiming eight years include “Any Witch Way: Grace Sherwood’s 1706 Trial Left Little Room for Doubt,” 3; and Batts, “‘Witch of Pungo’ Pardoned by Governor after 300 Years.” Those claiming seven years are Jordan and Jordan, Gone but Not Forgotten: Virginia Beach, 67; and Ruegsegger, “Virginia Beach’s Own Witch Makes for Perfect Halloween Storytelling,” 18.

72. Richter interview.

73. Kellam and Matson, Kids at the Beach, 12; Ruegsegger, “Virginia Beach’s Own Witch Makes for Perfect Halloween Storytelling,” 18; Ruegsegger, “Sherwood Descendants Bewitched by a Legend.” See also Whichard, The History of Lower Tidewater Virginia, 59; and Baren, Virginia Folk Legends, 80.

74. “County Woman’s Club Names Committee for Cape Henry Celebration,” TVP, February 4, 1931, 14; “The Witch of Pungo: From Legend to Lore—The Mayor’s Report,” Meyera Oberndorf, VBS, April 19, 1996; Wilstach, Tidewater Virginia, 106–8; Omeda Davis Brockett, “Young Norfolk Playwright Author of Spring Festival Production,” TVP, April 15, 1934, pt. 4, p. 2; “Civic Pride,” TVP, July 10, 1991, 6.

75. A copy of this plaque is located at Ferry Plantation House. See also Stacy Parker, “Charming Witch Is Inducted onto Legend’s Walk,” TVP, May 20, 2007, P2.

7. Making the Witch of Pungo

1. “Superstition Flourishes in Community Where Once Grace Sherwood Held Sway,” TVP, January 20, 1924, pt. 1, p. 7.

2. Ibid.

3. “Princess Anne Devotee of Black Art Banished,” TVP, December 6, 1923.

4. “Superstition Flourishes,” pt. 1, p. 7.

5. For a brief biography of Squires, see “Squires, W. H. T. (William Henry Tappey), 1875–1948.”

6. “Books and Letters,” TVP, March 30, 1929, 6.

7. See, for example, “Rev. W. H. T. Squires Will Speak in City,” TVP, March 21, 1930, pt. 2, p. 12; “Will Sponsor Lecture,” TVP, September 27, 1931, pt. 6, p. 3; “Dr. Squires to Speak Here,” TVP, pt. 6, p. 3; “Grace Sherwood, The Only Virginia Witch,” TVP, November 26, 1931, pt. 1, p. 8; and “Church Notes,” TVP, August 2, 1946, 11.

8. “Saga of Princess Anne Witch Is Told Again by Dr. Squires,” TVP, November 2, 1946, 11.

9. Frank Sullivan, “Princess Anne Honors Clear Who Gave Witch Trial Record,” TVP, October 1, 1947, 29.

10. “William V. Tynes, II, Presented Insignia by Old Donation DAR,” TVP, March 9, 1952, pt. 1, p. 11.

11. White, Gleanings in the History of Princess Anne County.

12. “Judge B. D. White of Princess Anne Dies at Age of 77,” TVP, April 6, 1946, 1–2; Louisa Venable Kyle, “Charm of White Acre Living Memorial to the Beloved Judge Who Restored It,” TVP, March 21, 1954, pt. 5, p. 4.

13. “Gift to Bar Association Recalls How Grace Sherwood, a Witch, Was Ducked in Princess Anne,” TVP, December 13, 1938, 18.

14. Quote from: Kyle, “Charm of White Acre,” pt. 5, p. 4. For more on White’s interests, see “Judge B. D. White,” 1–2.

15. “History,” Old Donation Episcopal Church, https://olddonation.org/about-us/history.

16. “Old Donation Oyster Roast Is Announced,” TVP, November 3, 1935, pt. 4 p. 3; “Annual Old Donation Oyster Roast to be Held Saturday,” TVP, November 26, 1939, pt. 4, p. 2; “Church Silver on Exhibition,” TVP, December 3, 1941, 4.

17. Study Granum, “At 92, She Remembers History,” TVP, May 15, 1966, 6.

18. “Judge B. D. White,” 2; Kyle, “Charm of White Acre,” pt. 5, p. 4.

19. Quote from Kyle, “Charm of White Acre,” pt. 5, p. 5. See also “The Story of Grace Sherwood, ‘The Witch of Pungo,” Fact and Fiction, 3.

20. “Garden Pilgrimage in City and County Proves Interesting,” TVP, April 26, 1931, pt. 1, p. 7; “Whiteacre Gardens Open to Public Today,” TVP, April 24, 1937, 2; “Garden Tour Peak Due at Week’s End,” TVP, April 29, 1941, 20; “Old Princess Anne Home to Be Site of Fashion Show,” TVP, May 16, 1948, pt. 1, p. 27; Katherine Byrd Miller, “‘Faire Meaddows [sic], Goodly Tall Trees’ Still Prevalent in Princess Anne,” TVP, April 16, 1959, 15.

21. Agnes White Thomas, “Meet Grace Sherwood—A Genuine Witch,” TVP, April 28, 1957.

22. Louisa Venable Kyle, “Fences: Children Clamber and Walk on Them—and They Add Beauty to Highway and Lawn,” TVP, June 5, 1955, pt. 3 p. 6.

23. Tazewell Quandary, no. 27, April 1994, EBC, Folder 2.

24. Louisa Venable Kyle, “Moorman Garden with Its 50,000 Azalea Plants Points up Individual Beautification Potential,” TVP, April 20, 1952, pt. 5, p. 2; Louisa Venable Kyle, “Up the Lynnhaven: Nature’s Pageant Today Prompts Memories of River Life Yesterday,” TVP, July 15, 1956, 3C; Louisa Venable Kyle, “Descendants of William Moseley Provided Princess Anne County with Proud Heritage,” TVP, January 22, 1956, 3C.

25. Louisa Venable Kyle, “Horse Racing in the Old South: How a Horse from Princess Anne County Became a Champion,” TVP, August 15, 1954, pt. 3, p. 5.

26. George Holbert Tucker, “Early Mayors Rates as Individualists,” TVP, August 3, 1965, 15.

27. George Holbert Tucker, “Tidewater Landfalls,” TVP, November 4, 1967, 13; George Holbert Tucker, “Tidewater Landfalls: Blastronaut,” TVP, February 15, 1962, C31; Wilkie, “Whimsey Parade,” TVP, February 17, 1962, 13.

28. George Holbert Tucker, “Tidewater Landfalls: The 2nd Amazing Grace,” TVP, October 27, 1973, B1; George Holbert Tucker, “Tidewater Landfalls: The Rasp in the Files,” TVP, March 26, 1964, 31.

29. William Shands Meacham, “The Survival of an Old Church,” TVP, November 9, 1969, C8; Lawrence Maddry, untitled column, TVP, November 25, 1973, B1; George Holbert Tucker, “Family Tree Trunks Open,” TVP, January 6, 1962, 15.

30. Painter, “An Early 18th Century Witch Bottle,” 62–67.

31. Johnson, Witches and Demons in History and Folklore, 6.

32. For a brief account of the early history of the town of Virginia Beach, see Bernard P. Holland, “Early History of Virginia Beach,” address given on November 9, 1950, Early History of Virginia Beach, 1950, EBC.

33. “Witchduck Sold to Developers,” TVP, August 11, 1964, 10.

34. “Witch Duck Point,” TVP, November 9, 1967, 1, 10.

35. Womble Realty ad, TVP, March 23, 1973, C19.

36. Womble Realty ad, TVP, June 13, 1973, C15.

37. Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Ghosts, Witches & Weird Tales of Virginia Beach, 135–36; Kathy Kieatt, “What’s in a Name? Witchduck Road, Virginia Beach,” TVP, June 1, 2009; Claude Bing, “The Haunting of Witchduck Road,” Virginiabeach.com, April 5, 2017, https://www.virginiabeach.com/article/haunting-witchduck-road; I Grew up in Tidewater, “The Strange Case of Grace Sherwood, ‘Infamous Witch of Pungo,’” Facebook, October 14, 2021, https://www.facebook.com/groups/tidewater/posts/4688542747831417.

38. Perrine, “Church Ghost Stories.”

39. For more on Louise Luxford, see Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Two, 51–52.

40. Mary Reid Barrow, “Louisa Venable Kyle: She Created Our Beach Legends,” TVP, October 31, 1999.

41. Kyle, The Witch of Pungo.

42. Mary Reid Barrow, “The Past as Present,” TVP, April 12, 1992; Lawrence Maddry, “Pungo Witch Still Casts Her Spell,” D2.

43. Barrow, “Louisa Venable Kyle.”

44. Jessica Ritchie, “Spooky Rare Book Spotlight: ‘The Witch of Pungo’ by Louisa Venable Kyle.” Several public libraries in Virginia Beach display their copies of the book.

45. Reviews of the book recognized its appeal to adults even when it was first published (H. Reid, “Tales from Virginia Beach,” DP, June 9, 1974, 17).

46. Kyle, “Fences,” pt. 3, p. 6.

47. George Holbert Tucker, “Tidewater Landfalls: The 2nd Amazing Grace,” TVP, October 27, 1973, B1.

48. Dorothy Robbins, “October Skies Bring Witch Tales to Mind,” TVP, October 11, 1953, sec. 6, p. 7.

49. Barrow, “Louisa Venable Kyle.”

50. Barrow, “The Past as Present.”

51. Reed interview.

52. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Two, 10.

53. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Three, 65–66.

54. Reconnaissance Architectural Survey Report, City of Virginia Beach, Prepared by Frazier Associates, July 1992, 7–8, VDHR.

55. Prue Salasky, “Berried Treasure,” DP, May 8, 1997, F1–F2; Jane Bloodworth Rowe, “‘Preserving Traditions’ Is Strawberry Festival’s Theme,” TVP, May 14, 2009, B2; David Schleck, “Pungo Strawberry Festival Highlights Volunteer Dignitaries, Farming and Fun,” TVP, May 20, 2018.

56. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales, 52.

57. Quote from Jane Bloodworth Rowe, “Fruits of This Annual Event Keep on Giving,” May 21, 2015. See also Mechelle Hankerson, “Volunteers and Businesses Have Kept Virginia Beach’s Strawberry Festival Running for 33 Years,” TVP, May 26, 2016; Whitehurst, Pungo Tales, 52.

58. Robert Matthews, “Pungo Strawberry Festival,” TVP, May 21, 1992, 1K.

59. “100,000 Reported at Strawberry Fete,” DP, May 25, 1986, C8.

60. Victoria Hecht, “‘Berried’ Treasure Awaits in Pungo,” VBS, May 9, 1997, 1; Patrick Evan-Hylton, “Honorees Named at Pre-Strawberry Festival Fete,” TVP, May 16, 2004, 3; Anne Bright interview.

61. Anne Bright interview. See also Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Two, 16; Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Four, 87.

62. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Four, 88–89; David Schleck, “Pungo Strawberry Festival Highlights Volunteer Dignitaries, Farming and Fun,” TVP, May 20, 2018; Victoria Hecht, “Pungo Counts Down to ‘Berry Good Festival’,” VBS, May 14, 1999, 4; Patrick Evans-Hylton, “Pungo Strawberry Festival Is This Weekend,” TVP, May 24, 2007, 22; 6th Annual Pungo Strawberry Festival Pamphlet, 1989.

63. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Four, 88–89.

64. “‘Witch’ Finds Her Niche in Peaceful Pungo,” TVP, May 23, 1990.

65. Rowe, “‘Preserving Traditions,’” B2; Bright, “Why Would Anyone Want to Be a Witch?”

66. Anne Bright interview; Ann Henley interview.

67. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Four, 92.

68. Victoria Hecht, “Countdown to Strawberry Mania!,” VBS, May 17, 1996, 1.

69. Evan-Hylton, “Honorees Named,” 3; Hecht, “Pungo Ready,” 1; Hecht, “‘Berried’ Treasure,” 7; Patrick Evans-Hylton, “22nd Annual Pungo Strawberry Festival: Pungo Perfection Promised,” TVP, May 22, 2005, V12; Patrick Evans-Hylton, “Pungo Strawberry Festival Is This Weekend,” TVP, May 24, 2007, 22.

70. Anne Bright interview.

71. Jane Bloodworth Rowe, “‘Young Witch,’ Student Artist Have Roles in Pungo Celebration,” TVP; Anne Bright interview.

72. Rowe, “Fruits of This Annual Even”; Hecht, “Countdown to Strawberry Mania!,” 1.

73. Ann Henley interview.

74. Jane Bloodworth Rowe, “Two Beers Named after Virginia Beach’s ‘Witch of Pungo,’” TVP, October 29, 2016.

75. Pumpkin Fling advertisement, Ferry Tidings, Fall 2000, FPHA.

76. Rowe, “Two Beers.”

77. David Nicholson, “Pungo Place Serves Bewitching Seafood,” DP, January 12, 1986, H9.

78. Jane Bloodworth Rowe, “Despite Storms and Ghosts, Eatery Perseveres,” TVP, August 24, 2006, B2.

79. Hylin McAndrews interview.

80. Gabbert, “Monsters, Legends, and Festivals,” 298–314; “Woodbooger,” Norton Virginia Tourism.

8. Cry Witch and Other Reenactments

1. Arnold Worldwide, “I Convicted a Witch,” advertisement created for the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 2004, https://www.adforum.com/creative-work/ad/player/6682678/convicted-a-witch/colonial-williamsburg.

2. Stevens, Old Williamsburg and Her Neighbors, 115; Virginia: A Guide to the Old Dominion, 314.

3. Stevens, Old Williamsburg and Her Neighbors, 118–26, 271, 296; Virginia: A Guide to the Old Dominion, 321–23.

4. For more on the restoration of Colonial Williamsburg, see Yetter and Lounsbury, Restoring Williamsburg; and Greenspan, Creating Colonial Williamsburg.

5. Blackson, “Once More . . . with Feeling,” 29–36.

6. Paula Crouch Thrasher, “Five Ghostly Getaways,” Atlanta Journal-Constitution, October 15, 2005, D10; Robin Tunnicliff Reid, “Vacation Confidential,” Cincinnati Enquirer, March 2, 2003, 7–8.

7. Stevens, Old Williamsburg and Her Neighbors 57.

8. Haunted America book series, Arcadia Publishing, https://www.arcadiapublishing.com/series/haunted-america-books.

9. Dickey, Ghostland, 1–11; Goldstein, Grider, and Thomas, Haunting Experiences, 187–91.

10. Bob Ruegsegger, “Witch of Pungo Takes Center-Stage in Long-Running Production,” TVP, October 22, 2015, 10.

11. Schumann interview.

12. “Colonial Characters Bring History to Life,” DP, August 31, 1988, 1.

13. Hudson interview.

14. Ibid.

15. Maddry, “It’s Easy,” A14; Hudson interview.

16. Schumann interview. See also Roberta T. Vowell, “A Reel Comeback, Williamsburg Theater Reopens with Mix of Movies and the Arts,” TVP, October 13, 2001, E1.

17. Schumann interview.

18. Ibid.; Cry Witch, Colonial Williamsburg Capitol, Williamsburg, VA, July 25, 2022, and July 29, 2022; Cry Witch, Part One, Colonial Williamsburg: Past & Present podcast, October 22, 2007.

19. Scheffler, “Cry Witch.”

20. Cry Witch performances from July 25, 2022, and July 29, 2022.

21. Hudson interview

22. Cry Witch performances from July 25, 2022, and July 29, 2022.

23. Hudson interview.

24. Cry Witch performances from July 25, 2022 and July 29, 2022.

25. Schumann interview.

26. Spaeth interview.

27. Schumann interview; Hudson interview.

28. Auditions announcements for Cry Witch, Colonial Williamsburg News Extra.

29. Questions & Answers (Colonial Williamsburg).

30. Schumann interview; Hudson interview.

31. Spaeth interview.

32. Schumann interview.

33. Ruegsegger, “Witch of Pungo,” 10.

34. Cry Witch performances from July 25, 2022, and July 29, 2022. See also Gibson, Witchcraft Myths in American Culture, 94–99.

35. Hudson interview.

36. Bob Ruegsegger, “Cry Witch! Colonial Williamsburg Program Casts Spell,” Free Lance-Star, October 27, 2001; “Cry Witch,” review of Colonial Williamsburg, Tripadvisor; Schumann interview; Spaeth interview.

37. Cry Witch performance from July 25, 2022; Schumann interview.

38. Schumann interview; Spaeth interview.

39. When I attended twice in July 2022, the first audience voted for conviction, the second, for acquittal. When Caroline Leibowitz, an undergraduate at the College of William and Mary, watched two performances later that year, the audience voted for conviction both times (Leibowitz, “What Can We Learn from Cry Witch! and Its Representation of Grace Sherwood?”).

40. Schumann interview. See also Maddry, “It’s Easy,” A14.

41. “Treat Yourself,” DP, October 27, 2006.

42. J. Eric Eckard, “Virginia Embraces Scary Past, Present with Ghost Tours,” Longview News-Journal, October 28, 2007, 12D.

43. See, for example, John Witt, “Story of Accused Sorceress’ Trial by Water in State Is Bewitching Tale,” Richmond Times-Dispatch, October 31, 1989, 3; and Nash and Sheets, A Place in Time, 109.

44. Hudson interview.

45. See, for example, Chewning, Haunted Virginia Beach, 84.

46. Charles F. Bryan Jr. and Pamela R. Seay, “Tell the Stories and They Will Come,” History News 49, no. 2 (March/April 1994): 9–13.

47. “Caravan Tour for Girl Scout Fund Will Be Made May 5,” TVP, April 18, 1937, pt. 4, p. 2; “Courthouse Displays Old Papers,” TVP, April 23, 1967, 2; Helen Crist, “If Old Courthouses Could Talk,” TVP, June 29, 1975, V8.

48. Louisa Venable Kyle, “Princess Anne 4th Graders See What They Study About,” TVP, January 7, 1951, pt. 4, p. 3; “Documents on Display,” TVP, May 4, 1967, 19; Anne Bright interview.

49. Guy Friddell, “Tales to Tell: Virginia Beach,” TVP, May 25, 1975, C1. See also Helen Crist, “‘Tales to Tell’: A Beach History,” TVP, June 8, 1975, V10.

50. Helen Crist, “Folk Arts Festival,” TVP, July 7, 1975, V1, V5; “What’s Beach Doing for the Theater?,” TVP, November 5, 1975, 4.

51. “May Festival of Princess Anne Woman’s Club on May 23,” TVP, May 3, 1936, pt. 4, p. 3. See also “New Home Ready for Woman’s Club of Princess Anne,” TVP, October 5, 1930, pt. 3, p. 7; Suzanne Holden, “Club Treasures Princess Anne’s ‘Olden Days,’” TVP, October 22, 1970, 7.

52. “Princess Anne Legend Basis of School Play,” TVP, May 26, 1949, 7.

53. Brilta Wickstrom, “Pupils Mingle Puppets, State History,” TVP, March 30, 1963, 6.

54. James McDevitt, “Witch Dunker Hit of Science Fair,” TVP, April 30, 1967, 2; Margery Loomis Krome, “Ungraded Pupils Reveal Deep Minds,” TVP, September 26, 1965, B4.

55. Reed interview.

56. Emily Fuss, “Girl Scouts Take a Peek at Colonial Life,” TVP, May 25, 1990, 6B.

57. Mary Reid Barrow, “Speedy Little Traveler Is 3 Grams of Courage,” TVP, April 14, 1993, 7; Mary Reid Barrow, “It’s the First Full Moon in May and It’s Time for Soft-Shell Crabs,” TVP, May 5, 1993, 7; Mary Reid Barrow, “Hardy Native Wildflowers Deserve Credit for Surviving Harsh Weather,” TVP, May 18, 1994, 2.

58. Kratt interview.

59. Ibid.; Reed interview.

60. Kratt interview.

61. M. J. Knoblock, “Virginia’s First Lady Bewitched by Legend of Pungo Enchantress,” VBS, May 19, 1995, 1, 5.

62. Mary Reid Barrow, “History Gets a Rich Interpretation at Francis Land House Celebration,” TVP, May 12, 1996, 2. The event was back the next year (advertisement for “Legends of the Beach” at the Francis Land House, DP, May 11, 1997, 14).

63. Kratt interview.

64. Reed interview.

65. Mary Reid Barrow, “Locals Bewitched by Superstitions,” TVP, October 25, 1989.

66. Bob Ruegsegger, “Legends and Lore Underscore ‘Lunacy’ of Superstitions,” VBS, October 31, 1997, 5. See also “Ways to be Wicked,” DP, October 30, 1998, D6; Krys Stefansky, “Get More Bang for Your Boo,” TVP, October 23, 1998, E7; “Halloween Happenings,” DP, October 26, 2001, D8.

67. Jaedda L. Armstrong, “Honored Volunteer Cherishes Sharing Knowledge,” TVP, July 12, 2007, 18.

68. Ruegsegger, “Legends and Lore,” 5.

69. “Irene Halle, Her Alter Ego Is Dubbed the ‘Witch of Pungo,’” TVP, October 23, 1996, 3.

70. Ibid.; Guy Friddell, “Shirt Shows a Multitude of Multitudes,” TVP, May 25, 2000, B2.

71. Kratt interview.

72. Van Ness, “Special Halloween Episode—Grace Sherwood: The Witch of Pungo”; City Manager’s Update: September 29, 2017, 7; advertisement for A Witch among Us? The Story of Grace Sherwood, Lynnhaven House.

73. Sandra J. Barker, “Witch Surfaces to Tell Her Story in Performance,” TVP, August 7, 2008, B1.

74. Comment made during Grace Sherwood: The History behind the Legend, October 13, 2022, Lynnhaven House, Virginia Beach.

9. Witch Houses and Memorials

1. For a discussion about the image of haunted houses, see Goldstein, Grider, and Thomas, Haunting Experiences, 147–51.

2. Brunvand, The Baby Train and Other Lusty Urban Legends, 11–30, 325–47. See also Goldstein, Grider, and Thomas, Haunting Experiences, 191–97.

3. E. Tucker, Haunted Halls, 182; Dégh, “The Haunted Bridges near Avon and Danville and Their Role in Legend Formation”; Ellis, “Legend-Tripping in Ohio”; McNeill and Tucker, Legend Tripping.

4. National Register of Historic Places Registration Form, 1–2, File 134–246: Whitehurst House, VDHR; Continuation Sheet, National Register of Historic Places Registration Form, 1–7, File 134–246: Whitehurst House, VDHR; “City of Virginia Beach Inventory of Historic Buildings and Sites,” March 1990, 4–26, Office of Research and Strategic Analysis, City of Virginia Beach; Al Henley interview.

5. National Register of Historic Places Registration Form, 2; Continuation Sheet 1; “City of Virginia Beach Inventory of Historic Buildings and Sites,” 4–26.

6. Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge: House (RP#44) on Tract 163 (a): Background Historical and Architectural Information, 12/18/1990, File 134–246: Whitehurst House, VDHR; Deeds Related to the Garrison Property, EBC Folder 1; Waterfield interview.

7. Mary Reid Barrow, “Trying to Set the Record Straight on Witch of Pungo’s Residence,” TVP, March 3, 1991, 7; Waterfield interview.

8. McIntosh interview.

9. Princess Anne County Deed Book 32, 60.

10. “Rare Old Quilts and Works of Needle Art to Be Shown at Exhibition this Week,” TVP, March 1, 1931, pt. 4, p. 3.

11. Handwritten notes about local houses, Sally Ann Garrison House, 1328 N. Muddy Creek Road, EBC, Folder 1.

12. Therese Dunleary, According to Belinda Nash, October 27, 2009, Famous and Notable People: Sherwood, Grace, Meyera E. Oberndorf Library, Virginia Beach, Extras Folder.

13. Postcards and Illustrations, EBC, Folder 2; Louis Jones Sketch, Famous and Notable People: Sherwood, Grace, Meyera E. Oberndorf Library, Virginia Beach, Extras Folder; “Expert Says Chimney Bricks Are Not from Witch of Pungo’s House,” TVP, November 29, 1998; Mary Reid Barrow, “Quilt with Photos of Old Houses a Labor of Love on Display Now,” TVP, August 4, 1993, 7.

14. Khan interview.

15. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Three, 27; Anne Bright interview.

16. Marc Davis, “Housekeeping: Old Homes’ Historic Value Debated,” TVP, October 15, 1989, B1–B2; Krys Stefansky, “Cottage May Have Housed Witch,” TVP, March 10, 1989.

17. Mary Reid Barrow, “Witch’s Legend Lingers near Pungo Homestead,” TVP, November 11, 1984.

18. Report from John S. Wilson, Office of Refuges and Wildlife, 12/20/1990, File 134–246: Whitehurst House, VDHR.

19. Cindy Clayton, “Blaze Destroys ‘Witch of Pungo’s’ House,” TVP, May 19, 1993; Nash and Sheets, A Place in Time, 144.

20. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Two, 18.

21. Joanne Kimberlin, “From Shipyards to Haunted Houses, What’s It Worth?,” TVP, March 14, 2021, 1D.

22. Tiffany Bright interview.

23. Chewning interview.

24. Whitehurst, Pungo Tales Two, 18; Lago Mar on the Back Bay, “This Is (or Was) the House That Grace Sherwood, ‘The Witch of Pungo’ Reportedly Lived in until Her Death in 1740,” Facebook, July 10, 2019, https://www.facebook.com/lago.mar.18/posts/this-is-or-was-the-house-that-grace-sherwood-the-witch-of-pungo-reportedly-lived/2418451361757390.

25. Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Bayside History Trail, 64; Bob Ruegsegger, “Ferry Plantation Is Added to National Register,” TVP, February 10, 2005, V10; Reconnaissance Architectural Survey Report, 101.

26. Reed interview.

27. Daisy Lawrence, Old Donation Farm, Works Progress Administration of Virginia Historical Inventory, Princess Anne County, July 23, 1937, 1, Library of Virginia Archives.

28. Calvert Tazewell, “Gleanings on Walk Family Homes,” 1988, 9, EBC, Folder 3.

29. Tazewell, “Gleanings,” 11.

30. Margaret Davis Jaffé, “Princess Anne County Rich in Colonial Remains,” TVP, February 28, 1926, sec. 4, p. 1. See also “Famous Gardens of Tidewaters to Do ‘Bit’ in Raising Funds for Restoration of Kenmore,” TVP, March 3, 1929, pt. 4, p. 4.

31. “County Woman’s Club Names Committee for Cape Henry Celebration,” TVP, February 4, 1931, 14; “Woman’s Club of Princess Anne Plans May Festival,” TVP, April 12, 1931, pt. 4, p. 2; Omeda D. Brockett, “Scenes of Revolutionary Days in Princess Anne Are Re-enacted at May Festival,” TVP, May 17, 1931, pt. 2, p. 1.

32. Postcards and Illustrations, EBC, Folder 2; Agnes White Thomas, “Meet Grace Sherwood—A Genuine Witch,” TVP, April 28, 1957; Elizabeth Walker White, “Legend of ‘Witch’ Sherwood Haunts Princess Anne County,” TVP, April 25, 1954, pt. 6, p. 2; Louisa Venable Kyle, “Recent Princess Anne Housing Developments Are Often Built on Older Community Sites,” TVP, September 11, 1955, 4C.

33. Tazewell, “Gleanings,” 10.

34. Reed interview.

35. Karen Weintraub, “Neighbors Don’t Want House to Be a Home, but a Family Hopes to Move in to the Supposedly Haunted Ferry Farm House,” TVP, September 14, 1994, B3; Mary Reid Barrow, “Plantation’s Friends Get Go-Ahead for Restoration,” TVP, October 30, 1996, B3; Reed interview.

36. Chewning, Haunted Virginia Beach, 107–8; Chewning interview.

37. Irene Bowers, “At 101, She’s Still Celebrating Halloween Birthday,” TVP, November 14, 2013, B1.

38. Marlene Ford, “Civic League Mulls Ferry Farm Ghost,” TVP, September 23, 1994, 3B.

39. L. B. Taylor’s Ghosts of Virginia series has dozens of similar ghost stories, for more on what makes these stories believable (Goldstein, Grider, and Thomas, Haunting Experiences, 70–78).

40. Jo Howren, “Friends of Ferry Farm Preserving Our History,” TVP, October 18, 1996, 6; Ruegsegger, “Ferry Plantation,” V10.

41. Mary Reid Barrow, “An Historic Revival: After Years of Neglect, the Ferry Plantation House Will Be Renovated, Preserving 300 Years of Local History,” TVP, July 26, 1996, 10; Reed interview.

42. Barrow, “Plantation’s Friends Get Go-Ahead for Restoration,” B3.

43. Barrow, “Plantation’s Friends,” TVP, October 30, 1996, B3; Letters from the Friends of Ferry Plantation, EBC, Folder 1.

44. Barrow, “An Historic Revival,” 10; Howren, “Friends of Ferry Farm Preserving Our History,” 6; John-Henry Doucette, “Group’s Excavation Seeks Rich History of Ferry Plantation,” TVP, July 13, 1997, B7.

45. Howren, “Friends of Ferry Farm Preserving Our History,” 6; Barrow, “Plantation’s Friends Get Go-Ahead for Restoration,” B3.

46. Barrow, “An Historic Revival,” 10.

47. Perrine, “Old Donation Church History.”

48. Irene Bowers, “Virginia Beach Event Honors ‘Witch of Pungo,’” TVP, July 8, 2013; Mechelle Hankerson, “Belinda Nash, Advocate for the Witch of Pungo, Dies,” TVP, February 19, 2016.

49. “Governor Asked for Exoneration,” TVP, May 14, 2006, A15.

50. Ibid., A15.

51. Nash and Sheets, A Place in Time, 44, 79.

52. Ibid., 89, 104.

53. Ibid., 105–12.

54. Ibid., 126–30.

55. Louisa Venable Kyle, “With Mind and Muscle Today’s Woman Can Fulfill Yearning (In Colonial Virginia She’d Have Been Candidate for Burning): A Country Woman’s Scrapbook,” TVP, October 26, 1952, pt. 5, p. 4.

56. Nash, Gilbert, and Norred-Williams, Bayside History Trail, 54–57; Gilbert, Nash, and Norred, Ghosts, Witches, and Weird Tales of Virginia Beach, 126–32.

57. Janet Dunphy, “Historic Sites Will Open for History Trail Day,” TVP, May 13, 2004.

58. Irene Bowers, “Jail Is Child’s Reward for Attending Summer Camp,” TVP, July 6, 2008, L1; Bob Ruegsegger, “Students Re-enact Witch of Pungo’s 1706 Trial,” TVP, July 13, 2006.

59. Ruegsegger, “Students Re-enact Witch of Pungo’s 1706 Trial.”

60. “Hear Ye! Hear Ye!,” Ferry Tidings, July 2002, 1, FPHA; “Step into the Past Down on the Lynnhaven,” Ferry Tidings, October 2002, 7, FPHA.

61. “Welcome to the 297th Anniversary of the July 10, 1706 ‘Trial by Water’ of Grace Sherwood a.k.a ‘The Witch of Pungo,’” 1, FPHA.

62. “Welcome to the 297th Anniversary,” 2–3; Tamara El-Khoury, “Reliving History: Witchduck Witch Ducked—Actors Recreate Woman’s 1706 Soak in Lynnhaven River,” TVP, July 11, 2003, B1.

63. “Ye Old Witch Ducking,” Ferry Tidings, July 2003, 1, FPHA.

64. Richter interview.

65. “The Trial by Water July 10th,” Ferry Tidings, July 2005, 1, FPHA.

66. “Cape Henry American Cradle of Religion,” TVP, March 31, 1926, 14; “Annual Old Donation Oyster Roast to Be Held Saturday,” TVP, November 26, 1939, pt. 4, p. 2; Yarsinske, Lost Virginia Beach, 34. For information about Princess Anne County’s early churches and church attendance in colonial Virginia, see Mason, “The Colonial Churches of Lynnhaven Parish, Princess Anne County, Virginia.”

67. Audience comment from Grace Sherwood: The History behind the Legend, October 13, 2022, Lynnhaven House, Virginia Beach.

68. See, for example, Paul Clancy, “Church Marks 375 Years of Eventful Lineage,” TVP, June 24, 2012, B3.

69. Richter interview.

70. Denise Watson Batts, “Wither Witchduck?,” TVP, 2006.

71. Denise Watson Batts, “‘Witch of Pungo’ Pardoned by Governor after 300 years,” TVP, July 11, 2006.

72. Tim Kaine to Belinda Nash, July 10, 2006, reprinted in program of the dedication of the Grace Sherwood statue, Saturday, April 21, 2007, Virginia Beach Public Library.

73. Denis Watson Batts, “Spell as ‘Witch’ Proclaimed Over,” TVP, July 11, 2006, A1.

74. “Witch of Pungo Pardoned by Virginia governor, 300 Years Later,” Boing Boing, July 10, 2006; Associated Press Wire Report, “Woman Tries to Clear Virginia Witch Convicted 300 Years Ago,” Progress-Index (Petersburg, VA), July 5, 2006; Barisic, “Kaine Pardons ‘Witch,’ Voiding a Trial That Wouldn’t Float Today,” DP, July 11, 2006, A1, reprinted as “Va. Governor Restores Good Name of Witch,” Sumter (SC) Item July 16, 2006, 3C; “‘Witch’ Convicted 300 Years Ago Is Pardoned,” Jackson (TN) Sun, July 11, 2006, 4B; “Virginia’s Governor Restores Good Name of Convicted Witch 300 Years after Trial,” Coshocton (OH) Tribune, July 11, 2006, 2A.

75. “Grace Sherwood’s Arrival,” Ferry Tidings, October 2007, 12, FPHA.

76. Randall interview.

77. Hankerson, “Belinda Nash;” Nash and Sheets, A Place in Time, 153–54.

78. Richter interview.

79. “Statue of Exonerated Witch Finds a Home,” DP, March 25, 2007, B2.

80. Program, The Dedication of the Grace Sherwood Statue, Saturday, April 21, 2007.

81. Irene Bowers, “Grace Sherwood Again Takes Her Place in the Sun,” TVP, April 29, 2007, L15.

82. “Grace Sherwood’s Arrival,” Ferry Tidings, October 2007, 14, FPHA.

83. Richter interview.

84. “The Grace Sherwood Stone,” Old Donation Church blog.

85. “Grace Sherwood’s Arrival,” Ferry Tidings, August 2014, 7, FPHA.

Epilogue

1. One of these collections was published in March 2023 as I was finishing this book: Michaels, Strange Tales from Virginia Foothills to the Coast.

2. Robinson, “Separating Fact from Fiction: The Witch of Pungo.”

3. Episode 202 of Our Place, Our Time.

4. “Witchcraft in America,” Time Machine with Jack Perkins.

5. “Grace Sherwood: The Witch of Pungo (Occult History Explained),” The Legends of History. See also Young, “The Infamous Witch of Pungo: Grace Sherwood.”

6. Sammak, “Virginia’s Most Famous Witch Grace Sherwood.”

7. “Grace Sherwood,” episode 59 of Witches, Magic, Murder, and Mystery podcast.

8. “Grace Sherwood,” The Legends of History, comment by mrbassman49.

9. “The Witch of Pungo,” “The Carpetbagger” YouTube channel, October 1, 2018, comment by Donald Spera.

10. “Grace Sherwood,” episode 59 of Witches, Magic, Murder, and Mystery podcast.

11. “Witch of Pungo—Virginia,” Southern Haint Stories; Manke, The World of Lore, 167.

12. “The Last Modern Day Witch Trial: The Witch of Pungo,” “Walk with History” YouTube channel. See also “The Witch of Pungo,” and “The Carpetbagger.”

13. “Virginia Paranormal, Witch of Pungo,” “Campfire Tales from Beyond the Grave.”

14. Neal, “Search of the Pungo Witch House.”

15. Puma, The Witch of Pungo.

16. Kuzminski, “Grace Sherwood Documentary.”

17. Virginia Beach Surf & Rescue Museum, Friday Night Frights.

Bibliography

Archives

Corporate Archives Collection, John D. Rockefeller Jr. Library, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, Williamsburg, Virginia

Historian Kevin Kelly Research Files (Accession 2017-023)

Ferry Plantation House Archives, Virginia Beach

Archives of the Meyera E. Oberndorf Library, Virginia Beach

Edgar T. Brown Collection, Archives 184, Box 1

Famous and Notable People: Sherwood, Grace

Office of Research and Strategic Analysis, Virginia Beach

Virginia Department of Historic Resources Archives, Richmond

Primary Sources

Colonial Records

Lower Norfolk County Will Book E

Lower Norfolk County Deed Book 4

Lower Norfolk County Deed Book 5

Lower Norfolk County Will Book 6

Princess Anne County Deed Book 1

Princess Anne County Deed Book 2

Princess Anne County Deed Book 3

Princess Anne County Deed Book 4

Princess Anne County Deed Book 32

Princess Anne County Minute Book 3

Princess Anne County Minute Book 4

Princess Anne County Order Book 1

Princess Anne County Will Book 1

Virginia Index of Patents, No. 6, 1666–1679

Transcriptions

Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society 8. 4th Series. Boston: Wiggin and Lunt, 1868.

Cushing, Jonathan P. Collections of the Virginia Historical and Philosophical Society to Which Is Prefixed an Address, Spoken before the Society at an Adjourned Anniversary Meeting, Held in the Hall of the House of Delegates on Monday, Feb. 4th, 1833. Vol. 1. Richmond: T. W. White, 1833.

Howe, Katherine, ed. The Penguin Book of Witches. New York: Penguin, 2014.

James, Edward W. “Captain William Carver.” William and Mary Quarterly 3, no. 3 (January 1895): 163–65.

———. “The Church in Lower Norfolk County.” Lower Norfolk County Virginia Antiquary 2, pt. 3 (1897): 83–88.

———. “The Church in Lower Norfolk County.” Lower Norfolk County Virginia Antiquary 2, pt. 4 (1897): 120–28.

———. “Grace Sherwood, the Virginia Witch.” William and Mary Quarterly 3, no. 2 (October 1894): 96–101.

———. “Grace Sherwood, the Virginia Witch.” William and Mary Quarterly 3, no. 3 (January 1895): 190–92.

———. “Grace Sherwood, the Virginia Witch.” William and Mary Quarterly 3, no. 4 (April 1895): 242–45.

———. “Grace Sherwood, the Virginia Witch.” William and Mary Quarterly 4, no. 1 (July 1895): 18–22.

———. “Witchcraft in Virginia.” William and Mary Quarterly 1, no. 3 (January 1893): 127–29.

———. “Witchcraft in Virginia.” William and Mary Quarterly 2, no. 1 (July 1893): 58–60.

McIlwane, H. R., ed. Minutes of the Council and General Court of Colonial Virginia 1622–1632, 1670–1676. Richmond: Library of Virginia, 1924.

Palmer, William P., ed. Calendar of Virginia State Papers and Other Manuscripts, 1652–1781. Vol. 1. 1875. Richmond. New York: Kraus Reprint Corporation, 1968.

Printed Sources

Auditions announcements for Cry Witch. Colonial Williamsburg News Extra 10, no. 5 (March 1988).

Boulton, Richard. The Possibility and Reality of Magick, Sorcery, and Witchcraft, Demonstrated. Or: A Vindication of a Compleat History of Magick, Sorcery, and Witcraft. In Answer to Dr. Hutchinson’s Historical Essay. In Two Parts: Part I: Containing an Examination and Answer of the Positions Laid Down in That Book; Part II. An Essay of the Nature of Material and Immaterial Substances. London: J. Roberts, 1722.

Browne, Thomas. Pseudodoxia Epidemica: Or Enquiries into Very Many Received Tenents and Commonly Presumed Truths. London: Printed by T. H. for Edward Dod, 1646.

Bryan, Charles F., Jr., and Pamela R. Seay. “Tell the Stories and They Will Come.” History News 49, no. 2 (March/April 1994): 9–13.

“The Church in Virginia.” The Churchman 5, no. 44 (January 1836): 1006–7. Reprinted in Episcopal Recorder 13, no. 43 (January 1836): 170.

Cooke, John Esten. “Greenway Court; or, the Bloody Ground.” Southern Literary Messenger 28, no. 3 (1859).

Dalton, Michael. The Countrey Justice, Containing the Practice of the Justices of the Peace Out of Their Sessions: Gathered for the Better Help of Such Justices of the Peace as Have Not Been Much Conversant in the Study of the Laws of this Realm. London: Stationers, 1661.

“A Discourse.” Proceedings of the New Jersey Historical Society 1, no. 1 (January 1845): 23–62.

Gummere, Amelia Mott. Witchcraft and Quakerism: A Study in Social History. Philadelphia: Biddle, 1908.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The House of the Seven Gables. New York: Penguin, 1981.

“The History of Virginia.” Southern Literary Messenger 5 (December 1839): 788.

Hutchinson, Francis. An Historical Essay Concerning Witchcraft: With Observations upon Matters of Fact; Tending to Clear the Texts of the Sacred Scriptures, and Confute the Vulgar Errors about that Point: And Also Two Sermons; One in Proof of the Christian Religion; The Other Concerning Good and Evil Angels. 2nd ed. London: R. Knaplock at the Bishop’s Head and D. Midwinter at the Three Crowns in St. Paul’s Churchyard, 1720.

Kramer, Heinrich, and James Sprenger. The Malleus Maleficarum. Translated by Montague Summers. New York: Dover, 1971.

Program of the Dedication of the Grace Sherwood Statue, Saturday, April 21, 2007. Virginia Beach Public Library.

Questions & Answers (Colonial Williamsburg), 9, no. 6 (August 1988).

“Reminiscences of Philadelphia, No. II.” People’s Magazine, no. 21 (December 2, 1834): 162–63

Scot, Reginald. The Discoverie of Witchcraft. London: William Brome, 1584.

Stone, William L. Tales and Sketches. Glasgow: R. Griffin, 1834.

“Trial for Witchcraft.” Western Monthly Magazine 3, no. 2 (February 1835): 96–99.

Oral Histories, Legends, and Folktales

Baren, Thomas E., ed. Virginia Folk Legends. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1991.

Brunvand, Jan Harold. The Baby Train and Other Lusty Urban Legends. New York: Norton, 1993.

———. Curses! Broiled Again! The Hottest Urban Legends Going. New York: Norton, 1989.

———. The Vanishing Hitchhiker: American Urban Legends and Their Meanings. New York: Norton, 1981.

Harden, John. The Devil’s Tramping Ground and Other North Carolina Mysteries. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1949.

Hawkins, Carrie Roberta, ed. “Old Superstitions of the 1800s.” Works Progress Administration of Virginia Historical Inventory, York County, 1936.

———. “An Old Witch Story.” Works Progress Administration of Virginia Historical Inventory, York County, 1936.

Nelson, Robert F. Thrilling Legends of Virginia. Richmond: Whittet & Shepperson, 1971.

Taylor, L. B., Jr. The Ghosts of Williamsburg and Nearby Environs. Progress Printing, 1983.

Whitehurst, Walter A. Pungo Tales. Statesboro, GA: Headlight, 2011.

———. Pungo Tales Two: Some Old, Some New. Statesboro, GA: Headlight, 2012.

———. Pungo Tales Three: People, Pets, Places. Statesboro, GA: Headlight, 2013.

———. Pungo Tales Four: Then and Now. Statesboro, GA: Headlight, 2014.

“Witch Tales and Beliefs from the Society Archives.” Folklore and Folklife in Virginia 2 (1980–81): 67–86.

Narrative Accounts of the Sherwood Trial

Ashton, John. The Devil in Britain and America. London: Ward and Downey, 1896.

Campbell, Beverly. “When Virginia Ducked Milady Witch.” Richmond Times-Dispatch, December 30, 1934.

Chewning, Alpheus J. Haunted Virginia Beach. Haunted America book series. Charleston, SC: Arcadia, 2006.

Coleman, Elizabeth Dabney. “The Witchcraft Delusion Rejected.” Virginia Cavalcade 6, no. 1 (Summer 1956): 28–34.

Cooke, John Esten. “Grace Sherwood: The One Virginia Witch.” Harper’s New Monthly Magazine 69 (June 1884): 99–101.

Drake, Samuel Gardner. Annals of Witchcraft in New England and Elsewhere in the United States from Their First Settlement: Drawn Up from Unpublished and Other Well Authenticated Records of the Alleged Operations of Witches and Their Instigator, the Devil. Boston: W. E. Woodward, 1869.

Edmunds, Pocahontas Wight. Tales of the Virginia Coast. Richmond: Dietz, 1950.

Eighmey, Kathleen M. The Beach: A History of Virginia Beach, Virginia. 1976. Rev. ed. Virginia Beach: City of Virginia Beach Public Libraries, 1996.

Elam, William Cecil. “Old Times in Virginia and a Few Parallels.” Putnam’s Monthly Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and National Interest 4, no. 20 (August 1869): 207–13.

Forrest, William S. Historical and Descriptive Sketches of Norfolk and Vicinity, Including Portsmouth and the Adjacent Counties, during a Period of Two Hundred Years. Also Sketches of Williamsburg, Hampton, Suffolk, Smithfield, and Other Places, with Descriptions of Some of the Principal Objects of Interest in Eastern Virginia. Philadelphia: Lindsay and Blakiston, 1853.

Hines, Emilee. Virginia Myths and Legends: The True Stories behind History’s Mysteries. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2016.

Homan, Willard. “An Early Virginia Witch.” Jamestown Magazine 1 (September 1906): 47–48. Reprinted in Scranton Republican, August 25, 1906, 10.

Howe, Henry. Historical Collections of Virginia. Charleston, SC: Babcock, 1845.

Ingersoll, Ernest. “Within the Capes of Virginia.” Frank Leslie’s Popular Monthly 20 (July-December 1885): 148–59.

Ingle, Edward. “A Virginia Witch.” Magazine of American History with Notes and Queries 10 (July-December 1883): 425–27.

Jordan, A. Shepherd, and James M. Jordan IV. Gone but Not Forgotten: Virginia Beach. Virginia Beach: Jordan Bros., 2008.

Kinney, Pamela K. Haunted Virginia: Legends, Myths, and True Tales. Atglen, PA: Schiffer, 2009.

Kyle, Louisa Venable. The Witch of Pungo and Other Historical Stories of the Early Colonies. Virginia Beach: Four O’Clock Farms, 1973.

Manke, Aaron. The World of Lore: Wicked Mortals. New York: Del Ray, 2018.

Michaels, Denver. Strange Tales from Virginia’s Foothills to the Coast: The Richmond Vampire, the Witch of Pungo, the Dismal Swamp Monster, and More. Charleston, SC: History Press, 2023.

Nash, Belinda, and Danielle Sheets. A Place in Time: The Age of the Witch of Pungo. Virginia Beach: W. S. Dawson, 2012.

Nash, Belinda, Lillie Gilbert, and Deni Norred-Williams. Ghosts, Witches & Weird Tales of Virginia Beach. Virginia Beach: Eco Images, 2013.

Oliver, Betty. “Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne.” North Carolina Folklore 10, no. 1 (July 1962): 36–39.

Pryor, Mrs. Roger A. The Mother of Washington and Her Times. New York: Macmillan, 1903.

Sheppard, Nancy E. Hampton Roads Murder and Mayhem. Charleston: History Press, 2018.

Squires, W. H. T. The Days of Yester-Year in Colony and Commonwealth: A Sketch Book of Virginia. Portsmouth, VA: Printcraft, 1928.

“The Story of Grace Sherwood.” Ca. 1896. Rare Books Collection. Virginia Museum of History and Culture.

Taylor, L. B., Jr. The Big Book of Virginia Ghost Stories. Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole, 2010.

———. The Ghosts of Tidewater and Nearby Environs. Progress Printing, 1990.

Thompson, Tamy Kay. Curiosities of Hampton Roads: Ghostly Colonists, Hidden Crypts, The Black Swan of Westover, and More. Charleston: History Press, 2015.

Tucker, George Holbert. Virginia Supernatural Tales: Ghosts, Witches, and Eerie Doings. Norfolk: Donning, 1977.

White, Benjamin Dey. Gleanings in the History of Princess Anne County. Self-published, 1924.

Newspapers

Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Banner of Light

Cincinnati Enquirer

Daily Press

Free Lance-Star

Longview News-Journal

Princess Anne Independent News

Richmond Times-Dispatch

Travelers’ Record

Virginia Beach Sun

Virginian-Pilot

Interviews

Bright, Anne. July 14, 2021.

Bright, Tiffany. July 18, 2022.

Chewning, Alpheus Jr. August 3, 2021.

Henley, Al. July 24, 2021; August 2, 2021.

Henley, Ann. August 2, 2021.

Hudson, Carson, Jr. August 6, 2021.

Khan, Sheila Marie. July 23, 2021.

Kratt, Molly. June 23, 2022.

McAndrews, Hylin. July 20, 2022.

McIntosh, Dave. July 31, 2021.

Randall, Robert, Jr. August 3, 2023.

Reed, Mark. July 19, 2022.

Richter, Gerry. August 2, 2021.

Riley, Annmarie. August 4, 2021.

Schumann, Abigail. July 30, 2021.

Spaeth, Barbette. August 5, 2021.

Waterfield, Jim. May 11, 2023.

Media and Public Performances

Cry Witch. Colonial Williamsburg Capitol. Williamsburg, VA. July 25, 2022.

———. July 29, 2022.

Cry Witch, Part One. Colonial Williamsburg: Past & Present podcast. October 22, 2007.

Episode 202 (segment) of Our Place, Our Time. WHRO. Aired October 23, 1988.

“Grace Sherwood.” Episode 59 of Witches, Magic, Murder, and Mystery podcast. August 2021.

“Grace Sherwood: The Witch of Pungo (Occult History Explained).” “The Legends of History” YouTube channel. September 6, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-t8NRByRhwQ.

Kuzminski, Sara. “Grace Sherwood Documentary.” YouTube. November 20, 2017. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRMcLedQax0&t.

“The Last Modern Day Witch Trial: The Witch of Pungo.” “Walk with History” YouTube channel. October 27, 2021. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4meIrAThI8&t.

Neal, Brian. “Search of the Pungo Witch House.” YouTube. January 5, 2020. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0kS-28H320&t.

Puma, Grace. “The Witch of Pungo.” YouTube. June 6, 2022. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCRq-e42WLk&t.

Robinson, Andrew. “Separating Fact from Fiction: The Witch of Pungo.” WAVY TV 10. Aired October 29, 2021.

Sammak, Danielle. “Virginia’s Most Famous Witch: Grace Sherwood.” YouTube. October 28, 2020. Accessed November 28, 2022.

Scheffler, Steven. “Cry Witch.” YouTube. September 27, 2009. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3nbVVwUeGw&list=WL&index=27.

Van Ness, Robert. “Special Halloween Episode—Grace Sherwood: The Witch of Pungo.” YouTube. October 27, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJLCyoSvrOk.

Virginia Beach Surf & Rescue Museum. “Friday Night Frights—The Witch of Pungo.” YouTube. June 30, 2020. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skd472lLYkk.

“Virginia Paranormal, Witch of Pungo.” “Campfire Tales from Beyond the Grave” YouTube channel. May 24, 2021. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBxtMNJMD90&t.

“The Witch of Pungo.” “The Carpetbagger” YouTube channel. October 1, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gRXBM5lIyg&t.

“Witchcraft in America.” Time Machine with Jack Perkins. A&E. Aired July 16, 1993.

“Witch of Pungo—Virginia.” “Southern Haint Stories” YouTube channel. November 13, 2020. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JmBHbW4yzZk&t=826s.

Young, Nikki. “The Infamous Witch of Pungo: Grace Sherwood.” Serial Napper True Crime Podcast. YouTube. October 11, 2021. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8AcijyCRZE&t=6s.

Websites

Advertisement for “A Witch among Us? The Story of Grace Sherwood.” The Lynnhaven House, Virginia Beach, VA. https://www.facebook.com/events/lynnhaven-house/sold-out-a-witch-among-us-the-grace-sherwood-story/147841452552282/.

Arnold Worldwide. “Convicted a Witch.” Advertisement created for the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 2004. https://www.adforum.com/creative-work/ad/player/6682678/convicted-a-witch/colonial-williamsburg.

Beaty, John O. “John Esten Cooke (1830–1886).” In Encyclopedia Virginia. https://encyclopediavirginia.org/entries/cooke-john-esten-1830-1886.

Bing, Claude. “The Haunting of Witchduck Road.” April 5, 2017. https://www.virginiabeach.com/article/haunting-witchduck-road.

City Manager’s Update: September 29, 2017. The City of Virginia Beach, Virginia Beach, VA. https://www.vbgov.com/government/departments/city-manager/Pages/city-managers-update.aspx.

Haunted America book series. Arcadia Publishing. https://www.arcadiapublishing.com/series/haunted-america-books.

Lago Mar on the Back Bay. “This Is (or Was) the House That Grace Sherwood, ‘The Witch of Pungo’ Reportedly Lived in until Her Death in 1740.” Facebook, July 10, 2019. https://www.facebook.com/lago.mar.18/posts/this-is-or-was-the-house-that-grace-sherwood-the-witch-of-pungo-reportedly-lived/2418451361757390.

Perrine, Bob. “Church Ghost Stories.” Old Donation Church blog. http://1bob9.blogspot.com/2009/06/church-ghost-stories.html.

———. “Old Donation Church History.” Old Donation Church blog. http://1bob9.blogspot.com/2009/06/old-donation-history.html

Review of Colonial Williamsburg. Tripadvisor. Posted on March 16, 2015. https://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g58313-d102549-r259739639-Colonial_Williamsburg-Williamsburg_Virginia.html.

Ritchie, Jessica. “Spooky Rare Book Spotlight: ‘The Witch of Pungo’ by Louisa Venable Kyle.’” ODU Special Collections Blog, October 29, 2020. https://sites.wp.odu.edu/scua/2020/10/29/spooky-rare-book-spotlight-the-witch-of-pungo-by-louisa-venable-kyle.

“Squires, W. H. T. (William Henry Tappey), 1875–1948.” Sargeant Memorial Collection, Norfolk Public Library. http://smcarchives.libraryhost.com/?id=254&p=creators%2Fcreator.

“Woodbooger.” Norton Virginia Tourism. https://www.nortonvaoutside.com/woodbooger.

Secondary Sources

Amorth, Gabriele. An Exorcist Tells His Story. Translated by Nicoletta V. MacKenzie. San Francisco: Ignatius, 1994.

Axtell, James, ed. The American People in the Colonial South. West Haven, CT: Pendulum, 1973.

Baker, Emerson W. A Storm of Witchcraft: The Salem Trials and the American Experience. New York: Oxford University Press, 2015.

Barthes, Roland. Mythologies. Translated by Annette Lavers. New York: Hill and Wang, 2012.

Baughman, Ernest W. Type and Motif-Index of the Folktales of England and North America. Indiana University Folklore Series, no. 20. Berlin: DeGruyter Mouton, 1966.

Bean, Mrs. Robert Bennett. “The Colonial Church in Virginia.” Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 55, no. 1 (January 1947): 78–84.

Beaudry, Mary C. “Insult and Slander in Seventeenth-Century Virginia.” Folklore and Folklife in Virginia 1 (1979): 42–51.

Behringer, Wolfgang. Witchcraft Persecutions in Bavaria: Popular Magic, Religious Zealotry, and Reason of State Early Modern Europe. Translated by J. C. Grayson and David Lederer. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Bever, Edward. The Realities of Witchcraft and Popular Magic in Early Modern Europe. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008.

Blackson, Robert. “Once More . . . with Feeling: Reenactment in Contemporary Art and Culture.” Art Journal 66, no. 1 (Spring 2007): 28–40.

Blank, Trevor J., and David J. Puglia. Maryland Legends: Folklore from the Old Line State. Charleston, SC: History Press, 2014.

Blatz, Craig W., and Michael Ross. “Historical Memories.” In Memory in Mind and Culture, edited by Pascal Boyer and James V. Wertsch, 223–37. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009.

Bond, Edward L. Damned Souls in a Tobacco Colony: Religion in Seventeenth-Century Virginia. Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2000.

Booth, Sally Smith. The Witches of Early America. New York: Hastings House, 1976.

Boyer, Paul, and Stephen Nissenbaum. Salem Possessed: The Social Origins of Witchcraft. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1974.

Brittle, Gerald. The Demonologist: The Extraordinary Career of Ed and Lorraine Warren. New York: Graymalkin Media, 1980.

Brown, Kathleen M. Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs: Gender, Race, and Power in Colonial Virginia. Chapel Hill: Published for the Omohundro Institute of Early American History and Culture by the University of North Carolina Press, 1996.

Bruce, Philip Alexander. History of Virginia. Vol. 1, Colonial Period, 1607–1763. Chicago: American Historical Society, 1924.

———. Institutional History of Virginia in the Seventeenth Century: An Inquiry into the Religious, Moral, and Educational, Legal, Military, and Political Conditions of the People Based on Original and Contemporaneous Records. Vol. 1. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1910.

Burr, George Lincoln ed. Narratives of the Witchcraft Cases, 1648–1706. New York: Barnes & Noble, 1914.

Butler, Jon. “Magic, Astrology, and the Early American Religious Heritage, 1600–1760.” American Historical Review 84, no. 2 (April 1979): 317–46.

Christiansen, Reidar Thoralf. The Migratory Legends. Folklore Fellows Communications 175. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1958.

Cross, Tom Peete. “Witchcraft in North Carolina.” Studies in Philology 16, no. 3 (July 1919): 217–87.

Dégh, Linda. “The Haunted Bridges near Avon and Danville and Their Role in Legend Formation.” Indiana Folklore 2, no. 1 (1969): 77–81.

———. Legend and Belief: Dialectics of a Folklore Genre. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 2001.

Dégh, Linda, and Andrew Vázsonyi. The Dialectics of the Legend. Bloomington: Indiana University Folklore Institute, 1973.

Demos, John. The Enemy Within: A Short History of Witch-Hunting. New York: Penguin, 2009.

Dicker, Rory C. A History of U.S. Feminisms. New York: Seal, 2016.

Dickey, Colin. Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places. New York: Viking, 2016.

Dorson, Richard M. America in Legend. New York: Pantheon, 1974.

Ellis, Bill. “Legend-Tripping in Ohio: A Behavioral Study.” In Papers in Comparative Studies 2, edited by Daniel Barnes, Rosemary O. Joyce, and Steven Swann Jones, 61–73. Columbus: Center for Comparative Studies in Humanities, The Ohio State University, 1983:

Fiske, John. Old Virginia and Her Neighbours. Vol. 2. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, 1898.

Foner, Eric. Reconstruction: America’s Unfinished Revolution, 1863–1877. New York: Harper Perennial, 2014.

Forbes, Thomas R. “Midwifery and Witchcraft.” Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 17, no. 2 (April 1962): 264–83.

Gabbert, Lisa. “Monsters, Legends, and Festivals: Sharlie, Winter Carnival, and Other Isomorphic Relationships.” In North American Monsters: A Contemporary Legend Casebook, edited by David J. Puglia, 298–314. Logan: Utah State University Press, 2022.

Games, Alison. Witchcraft in Early North America. New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2010.

Gaskill, Malcolm. Witchfinders: A Seventeenth-Century English Tragedy. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005.

Gibson, Marion. Witchcraft Myths in American Culture. New York: Routledge, 2007.

Godbeer, Richard. Escaping Salem: The Other Witch Hunt of 1692. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.

Goldstein, Diane E., Sylvia Ann Grider, and Jeannie Banks Thomas. Haunting Experiences: Ghosts in Contemporary Folklore. Logan: Utah State University Press, 2007.

Greenspan, Anders. Creating Colonial Williamsburg: The Restoration of Virginia’s Eighteenth-Century Capital. 2nd ed. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2009.

Halbwachs, Maurice. On Collective Memory. Edited and translated by Lewis A. Coser. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992.

Henley, Barbara. Glimpses of Down-County History: Southern Princess Anne County. Virginia Beach: Eco Images, 2013.

Hogle, Jerrold E., ed. The Cambridge Companion to Gothic Fiction. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006.

Hole, Christina. Witchcraft in England. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1947.

Horn, James. Adapting to a New World: English Society in the Seventeenth-Century Chesapeake. Chapel Hill: Published for the Omohundro Institute of Early American History and Culture by the University of North Carolina Press, 1994.

Hudson, Carson O. Jr. Witchcraft in Colonial Virginia. Charleston, SC: History Press, 2019.

Johnson, F. Roy. Witches and Demons in History and Folklore. Murfreesboro, NC: Johnson, 1969.

Karlsen, Carol F. The Devil in the Shape of a Woman: Witchcraft in Colonial New England. New York: Vintage, 1989.

Kierner, Cynthia A. “Grace Sherwood: The Virginia Witch.” In Virginia Women: Their Lives and Times, vol. 1, edited by Kierner and Sandra Gioia Treadway, 11–32. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2015.

Leibowitz, Caroline. “What Can We Learn from Cry Witch! and Its Representation of Grace Sherwood? A Look into the Actual Life and Trial of a Virginia Beach Folk Legend.” Paper written for RELG 391, Fall 2022, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, VA.

Levack, Brian P. The Witch-Hunt in Early Modern Europe. 4th ed. New York: Routledge, 2016.

“Libraries in Colonial Virginia.” William and Mary Quarterly 3, no. 2 (October 1894): 132–34.

———. William and Mary Quarterly 8, no. 1 (July 1899): 18–22.

———. William and Mary Quarterly 8, no. 2 (October 1899): 77–79.

Mason, George Carrington. “The Colonial Churches of Lynnhaven Parish, Princess Anne County, Virginia.” William and Mary Quarterly 18, no. 3 (July 1938): 269–85.

McCleskey, Turk. The Road to Black Ned’s Forge: A Story of Race, Sex, and Trade on the Colonial American Frontier. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2014.

McCleskey, Turk, and James C. Squire. “Knowing When to Fold: Litigation on a Writ of Debt in Mid-Eighteenth Century Virginia.” William and Mary Quarterly 76, no. 3 (July 2019): 509–44.

McNeill, Lynne S., and Elizabeth Tucker, eds. Legend Tripping: A Contemporary Legend Casebook. Logan: Utah State University Press, 2018.

Nash, Belinda, Lillie Gilbert, and Deni Norred-Williams. Bayside History Trail: A View from the Water. Virginia Beach, VA: Eco Images, 2003.

Neill, Edward D. Virginia Carolorum: The Colony under the Rule of Charles the First and Second, A.D. 1625—A.D. 1685: Based upon Manuscripts and Documents from the Period. Albany, NY: J. Munsell’s Sons, 1886.

Orians, G. Harrison. “New England Witchcraft in Fiction.” American Literature 2, no. 1 (March 1930): 54–71.

Pagan, John Ruston. Anne Orthwood’s Bastard: Sex and Law in Early Virginia. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003.

Painter, Floyd. “An Early 18th Century Witch Bottle: A Legacy of the Wicked Witch of Pungo.” Chesopiean 18, nos. 3–6 (1980): 62–71.

Parramore, Thomas C., Peter C. Stewart, and Tommy L. Bogger. Norfolk: The First Four Centuries. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1994.

Rankin, Hugh F. “The General Court of Colonial Virginia: Its Jurisdiction and Personnel.” Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 70, no. 2 (April 1962): 142–53.

Rice, James D. Tales from a Revolution: Bacon’s Rebellion and the Transformation of Early America. New York: Oxford University Press, 2012.

Rosen, Barbara, ed. Witchcraft. New York: Taplinger, 1972.

Sharpe, Charles Kirkpatrick. A Historical Account of the Belief in Witchcraft in Scotland. London: Hamilton, Adams, 1884.

Snyder, Terri L. Brabbling Women: Disorderly Speech and the Law in Early Virginia. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2003.

Sobel, Mechal. The World They Made Together: Black and White Values in Eighteenth-Century Virginia. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1988.

Starosta, William J. “A National Holiday for Dr. King? Qualitative Content Analysis of Arguments Carried in the Washington Post and New York Times.” Journal of Black Studies 18, no. 3 (March 1988): 358–78.

Stevens, William O. Old Williamsburg and Her Neighbors. New York: Dodd, Mead, 1938.

Tarter, Brent. Virginians and Their Histories. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.

Thompson, Stith. Motif-Index of Folk-Literature: A Classification of Narrative Elements in Folk-Tales, Ballads, Myths, Fables, Medieval Romances, Exempla, Fabliaux, Jest-Books, and Local Legends. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1966.

Tucker, Elizabeth. Haunted Halls: Ghostlore of American College Campuses. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2007.

Turner, Florence Kimberly. Gateway to the New World: A History of Princess Anne County, Virginia 1607–1824. Easley, SC: Southern Historical Press, 1984.

Wamsley, James S., and Anne M. Cooper. Idols, Victims, Pioneers: Virginia’s Women from 1607. Richmond: Virginia State Chamber of Commerce, 1976.

Wertenbaker, Thomas J. Virginia under the Stuarts, 1607–1688. New York: Russell & Russell, 1959.

Whichard, Rogers Dey. The History of Lower Tidewater Virginia. Vol. 2. New York: Lewis Historical Publishing, 1959.

Wilkinson, A. B. “People of Mixed Ancestry in the Seventeenth-Century Chesapeake: Freedom, Bondage, and the Rise of Hypodescent Ideology.” Journal of Social History 52 no. 3 (Spring 2019): 593–618.

Wilstach, Paul. Tidewater Virginia. New York: Blue Ribbon, 1929.

“Witchcraft in Connecticut.” New Englander 8, no. 48 (November 1885): 788–817.

The Writers’ Program of the Work Projects Administration. Virginia: A Guide to the Old Dominion. New York: Oxford University Press, 1940.

Yarsinske, Amy Waters. Lost Virginia Beach. Charleston, SC: History Press, 2011.

Yetter, George, and Carl Lounsbury. Restoring Williamsburg. Williamsburg: Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 2019.

Index

Page numbers in italics refer to illustrations.

African American citizens, 96–97

Allen, Susan, 188

Anglican Church, 93–94, 221

Arthur (legendary king), 106

Association for the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities, 188

Atwood, Edward, 22, 28

Back Bay, xvi, 16, 31, 34, 109–10, 116–17, 120, 135, 160–61, 193. See also Pungo

Back Bay Brewing Company, 166–67

Bacon, Nathaniel, 127

Bacon’s Rebellion, 171, 240n13

Baker, Edward, 29, 51, 228n69

Ball, Anne, 37–38

Barnes, Anthony, 33–34, 50–53, 59, 64, 83–84, 220

Barnes, Elizabeth, 33–34, 37, 40, 48, 50–53, 59, 63–64, 79, 83, 220; as depicted in Cry Witch, 176–77, 182; as depicted in Sherwood legend, 128–30, 154

Barrow, Mary Reid, 117, 204

Batts, Denise Watson, 210

Bayside History Trail Day, 206

Bear Creek, North Carolina: legends from, 120

Bedinger, Henry, 93–94

Berkeley, William, 127

Bewitched (sitcom), 205

Blackbeard, 150, 158, 188

Blair Witch Project (film), 222

Blossom Hill, 109

blue lupine: in Sherwood legend, 109

Blue Pete’s Restaurant, 166–67

Boulton, Richard, 62

Boush, Maximilian, 71, 151, 154; as depicted in Sherwood legend, 128

Brattle, Thomas, 62

Bratton, Margaret J., 109

Bray, Plomer, 28–29, 31, 99

Bright, Anne, 135, 163–65

Brinkley, Mary Ellen, 164

Bristol, England, 112

British Empire in America, The (Oldmixon), 86

Brooks, Christina, 113, 116

Brooks, Job, 52

Brooks, Swepson Whitehead, 113, 116

Brown, Edgar, 114, 116, 217

Brown, Lucy, 147

Burnett, Celia, 137–38

Burroughs, Benoni, 64

Burroughs, Jack, 162, 165

Burroughs, Joe, 161

Burroughs, John, 88–92, 150, 184; transcript of the Sherwood trial, 88–93, 95, 97, 99, 124, 150, 182

Byrd, Anne, 38, 44, 49, 66, 91

Byrd, Jonathan, 38, 44, 49, 66, 91

Calef, Robert: More Wonders of the Invisible World, 84–86

Calendar of Virginia State Papers, 97, 99

Campbell, Beverly, 127–30

“Campfire Tales from Beyond the Grave,” 221

Cape Henry, 156–57

Capps, Richard, 30–34, 50–52, 83–84; as depicted in Sherwood legend, 128

Capps, Richard, Jr., 84

Capps, Williams, 31

Cartwright, Alice, 63, 65–66, 98–99

Carver, William, 65

Catholic Church, 39, 42, 45, 93

Cavalier Hotel, 132–33

Charles II (king of England), 87

Charles City County, Virginia: legends from, 120

Chesapeake Bay, 15, 17, 75; in Sherwood legend, 92, 107, 112

Chewning, Alpheus, Jr., 198, 202

Christianity, 42, 45, 66

“Church in Virginia, The,” 94

Civil War, 65, 74, 80, 90, 93–94, 96

Clark, Adam, 39

Cline, Patsy, 144

Cocke, Christopher, 49, 82

Cole, Eunice, 39

Coleman, Elizabeth Dabney, 133–34

Colonial Williamsburg, 169–75, 177, 179, 181–83, 187, 216

constitutional amendments, 96

Contemporary Arts Center (Virginia Beach), 201

Cooke, John Esten, 98, 101–2, 106–8, 124–28, 130, 136

Cooke Elementary School, 185–86

Corbitt, Richard, 57

Cornick, Alice, 66

Corperhew, Jonathan, 22

Cotle, Mary, 63

Countrey Justice, The. See Dalton, Michael

“Country Woman’s Scrapbook, A” (Kyle), 135, 153–54, 159

county courts (colonial Virginia): as arbiters of disputes, 24–27; slander and defamation suits in, 25–27, 30; structure and culture of, 24–25, 49–51, 57–58, 64

Creed Elementary School (Virginia Beach), 164

Creeds (neighborhood in Virginia Beach), 120, 161

Cry Witch, 169–83, 206, 216

cunning folk, 42–44

Cunningham, Robert, 211

Currituck County, North Carolina: in Sherwood legend, 114–18

Currituck Sound, 16, 66, 110; in Sherwood legend, 114–16

Cushing, Jonathan, 87–88

Daemonologie, 45. See also James I

Dalton, Michael: The Countrey Justice, 61–64, 70–71

Days of Yester-Year in Colony and Commonwealth, The, 149–50. See also Squires, W. H. T.

Deermore, Robert, 52

Defoe, Daniel: The Political History of the Devil, 86

“Devil’s Tramping Ground” (Bear Creek, North Carolina), 120

Disborough, Mercy, 126

Doyle, Judy, 165

Drake, Samuel Gardner, 94–95

ducking. See trial by water

Earl of Derby, 41

“Early Virginia Witch, An,” 131

Eaton, Michael, 83

Edmunds, Pocahontas Wight, 130–31

Elam, William Cecil, xii, 95–96

Eley, William, 186

Elizabeth City County, Virginia, 15

Elizabeth I (queen of England), 40

Ellis, Anne Forman, 133–34

Ellis, Emma Virginia Greenwell, 202

English Civil War, 74

English laws against witchcraft, 36–37, 66–68

Enlightenment. See rationalism

Entwisle, Sherry White, 137

Ferry Plantation House, 131, 134, 139, 142, 199–210, 213–15, 217, 221–22; and cultivation of Sherwood legend, 204–10, 213–15, 217, 221–22; legends about, 201–3; restoration of, 203–4; as rumored site of Sherwood’s imprisonment, 200–201, 204, 217, 221

Filipowski, Joseph, 139

Flanagan, Alice, 164

folklore, xvii, 6–7, 102–6, 110, 123–24, 136, 217, 220–21

Fowler, Ann, 25

Francis Land House, 186–88

Fredericksburg, Virginia, 188

Friends of Ferry Plantation House, 203–4

Garrison, John, 195

Garrison, Sally Ann, 195–96

General Court (of Virginia), 5, 65, 68–69, 71, 79–81, 88, 99, 174; as depicted in Cry Witch, 175–79

Ghost Hunters (reality show), 222

Ghosts of Tidewater, 104. See also Taylor, L. B., Jr.

ghost tours, 173, 181, 186

Girl Scouts, 187

Gisburne, Jane, 33–34, 47–53, 59, 83; as depicted in Sherwood legend, 128, 220

Gisburne, John, 33–34, 47–53, 59, 83; as depicted in Cry Witch, 177; as depicted in Sherwood legend, 128, 220

Gisburne, John, Jr., 83

“Gleanings in the History of Princess Anne County,” 150. See also White, Benjamin Dey

Glenn, John, 154

Gloucester County, Virginia, 88

Good, Sarah, 46

Goodman, Elizabeth, 41, 46

Gothic literature, 127, 136

“Grace Sherwood: The One Virginia Witch” (Harper’s Magazine) 98, 106–7, 124–27

“Grace Sherwood: The Virginia Witch,” 99. See also James, Edward W.

green line, 160–61

Greensmith, Rebecca, 74

“Greenway Court; or, the Bloody Ground” (Cooke), 98

Grierson, Isobel, 39

Halle, Irene, 188–90, 207, 209

Hampton, England, 39

Hampton, Virginia, 15

Hampton Roads, Virginia, 149–50, 216; in Sherwood legend, 111. See also Tidewater

Hampton Roads Murder and Mayhem, 138

Harding, William, 8, 44, 64–65, 80, 82, 98, 143

Harper’s Magazine, 98, 106, 124, 126

Harrison, Katherine, 46

Haunted America book series, 173

haunted houses, 173, 192

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 87, 102–3

Henley, Ann, 165

Henley, Barbara, 203, 212–13

Henley Farm, 166

Henry III (king of England), 72

Henry, Patrick, 172

Hill, Elizabeth, 4–5, 53, 57–60, 64, 68–69, 81–83, 99; as depicted in Cry Witch, 176–78; as depicted in Sherwood legend, 128–29, 206, 222; rumored miscarriage, 178, 182, 206, 218

Hill, Luke, 57–60, 68–69, 80, 81–83, 88, 97, 99, 171; as depicted in Cry Witch, 176–77; as depicted in Sherwood legend, 125, 128–30, 206

Historical Collections of Virginia (Howe), 93

historical reenactments, 172

historical societies, 87

Homan, Willard, 111, 131, 133, 139

“Honorary Witch of Pungo,” 9, 163–66

Hopkins, Matthew, 74

House of the Seven Gables, The (Hawthorne), 102

Howe, Henry, 93

Howren, Jo, 202–3

Hudgins, C. C., 147–48

Hudson, Carson, Jr., 65, 174–75, 177–78, 180, 182

Hutchinson, Francis, 62, 73

Ingle, Edward, 97–98, 103

International Cat Week, 154

Jaffé, Margaret Davis, 200

James I (king of England), 37, 45, 67, 72

James, Edward W., 99–101; transcript of the Sherwood trial, 99–100, 124, 150

James, John, 51

James River, 15, 18, 120

Jamestown, 8, 15, 21, 171, 174

Jamestown Magazine, 111, 131–33

Jefferson, Thomas, 172

Jenkins, Joan, 65

Jennings, Edmund: as depicted in Cry Witch, 176–77, 179

Jersey Devil, 167

Joan of Arc, 106

Johnson, F. Ray, 155

Johnson, Gail, 208

Johnson, Walter, 147

Kaine, Tim, 3, 210

Karlsen, Carol, 44–45

Keeling, Alexander, 22, 25

Keeling, Jonathan, 31, 49

Kempsville High School (Virginia Beach), 185

Khan, Sheila Marie, 196

Kimball Theatre (Williamsburg), 174–75

Kinsey, Charles, 38

Knight, Paula, 165

Knotts Island, North Carolina, 116; witch legends from, 110

Knox Presbyterian Church (Norfolk), 149

Kratt, Molly, 187–90

Kyle, Louisa Venable, 109, 115, 119, 135, 137, 139, 141, 150, 153–55, 157–60, 163, 184, 186, 204, 206, 218. See also “Country Woman’s Scrapbook, A”; Witch of Pungo and Other Historical Stories of the Early Colonies, The

Land, Rose, 119

Lee, Robin, 164

Legend of Witchduck (play), 185

legends. See folklore

Legends, Lore, and Lunacy (event), 189

“Legends of History” (YouTube channel), 219

legend trips, 193, 196, 198, 202

Lightfoot, Phillip, 120

Locke, John, 91

Lore (podcast), 221

Lower Norfolk County, 13–18, 21, 25–26, 29, 54, 64–66, 99; witch trials in, 63, 65–66

Lower Norfolk County Virginia Antiquary, 99

Luxford, Louise, 157–58

Lynnhaven House, 190

Lynnhaven Parish, 16, 25, 151, 214, 219

Lynnhaven River, 2–3, 5, 16–17, 31, 75, 79, 117, 148, 153, 155, 199, 207, 209, 216, 224; in Sherwood legend, 92, 112–13, 116, 118–19, 129, 139, 141, 204, 207, 214

MacGavy, Owen, 29, 50–51, 53, 228n69

Magazine of American History, 97, 103

magic: belief in, 35–36, 42–43; protections against, 41–43

Malleus Maleficarum, The (Kramer and Sprenger), 45

Mansfield, Stephen, 158

Marshall, John, 144

Mather, Cotton, 74

Mather, Increase, 74

McAndrews, Hylin, 167

McCall, Idaho, 167

McDermott, Molly, 208

McIntosh, Dave, 195

McKown, Colette, 173

Merchants Square (Colonial Williamsburg), 174

Meyera E. Oberndorf Central Library, Virginia Beach, Virginia, 90

midwives, 62; as suspected witches, 43

More Wonders of the Invisible World. See Calef, Robert

Morris, Eleanor, 38

Morris, Francis, 29, 31

Moseley, Edward, 50, 57, 64, 82

Moseley family, 83, 153

Muddy Creek Road House, 193–98, 205, 216–17, 222

Naples, Italy, 92

Nash, Belinda, 196, 204–14, 218; development of Sherwood legend, 204–8

Neal, Brian, 221–22

New England: beliefs about witchcraft and witch trials in, 6, 8, 34, 37, 39, 43, 45, 60, 65, 67, 70; life during colonial period, 21, 23, 54–55; memory of witch trials in, 84–88, 90–91, 93–95, 127, 217, 221

New Jersey Historical Society, 87, 93

New Playmakers, 183–84

Newport News, Virginia: in Sherwood legend, 112

Newton, Isaac, 91

Norfolk, Virginia, 149–50, 154–55, 185–86; in Sherwood legend, 135, 139

Norfolk Bar Association, 150–52

Norfolk Journal, 161

North Carolina, 18, 95, 117, 127; legends from, 89, 97; in Sherwood legend, 92, 95

Northumberland County, 8, 44, 64

Norton, Virginia, 167

Nosay, Manford, 135

Oberndorf, Meyera, 210

Old Dominion University, 109

Old Donation Episcopal Church, 151, 156, 209, 211–12, 214, 221

Old Donation Farm. See Ferry Plantation House

“Old Isabel” (witch), 109–10

Oldmixon, John: The British Empire in America, 86

Old Point: in Sherwood legend, 139

Oliver, Betty, 105–6, 110, 117, 119–20, 141

Ontario, Canada, 204

Our Place, Our Time, xii, 216–17

Painter, Floyd, 155, 189

Pembroke Elementary School (Virginia Beach), 212

People’s Magazine, 91

Perrine, Bob, 156, 214

Phillipp, Thomas, 66

Place in Time, A (Nash and Sheets), 205–6

Plimpton, Chuck, 212

Political History of the Devil, The (Defoe), 86

Porter, Stephen D., 212

Portsmouth, England, 111–12

Portsmouth, Virginia, 184; in Sherwood legend, 139

Potts, Jonathan, 38

Powell, George, 166

Powell, Mark, 58–59

Powhatan Indians, 91

Princess Anne County: in the colonial period, 16–19, 25, 29–31, 49, 57, 64, 71–74, 79, 81–83, 204; —, beliefs about witchcraft and witch trials in, 3–4, 38–39, 41, 65–66, 88; during the modern period, 2–3, 6, 8–9, 90, 97, 101, 102, 104–6, 109–10, 123–24, 134, 147–51, 153–56, 159–60, 169, 183, 192, 195; in Cry Witch, 174–77; in Sherwood legend, 94–95, 106–7, 112, 116–17, 127, 132, 212, 218, 220, 224

Princess Anne County/Virginia Beach Historical Society, 167

Princess Anne High School, 186

Princess Anne Park (Virginia Beach), 185

Princess Anne Woman’s Club, 185, 200

Protestant Christianity, 42, 45

Pungo, xvi, 109, 112–13, 116–17, 120, 122, 135, 153, 159–67, 193, 196, 207–8, 209, 221

Pungo Beauty Shop, 162

Pungo-Blackwater Library, Virginia Beach, xi, 137–38

Pungo Produce, 162

Pungo Strawberry Festival, 9, 135–36, 161–66

Putnam’s Monthly Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and National Interest, xii, 95, 99

Randall, Robert, Jr., 212

rationalism, 35, 84

Readjuster Party, 96

Reed, Mark, 186–87

Republican Party, 96

“Rhyme of the Witch’s Duck, The,” 212

Richmond (city), Virginia, 120, 183

Richmond County, Virginia, 85

Richmond Times-Dispatch, 127

Richmond Whig, 96

Richter, Gerry, 134–35, 142–43, 208, 210, 212

Robbins, Dorothy, 159–60

Rockefeller, John D., Jr., 171–72

Rookes, Mary, 66

Rose Hall, 113

Rylance, Rip, 132, 211

Salem witch trials, 35, 46, 62, 70–71, 80, 173; memory and historical depictions of, 84, 86, 93

Salmon, John, 63

Sammak, Danielle, 219

Sandbridge, 161

Sayer, Francis, 49

Schumann, Abigail, 173–74, 178–81

Scientific Revolution. See rationalism

Sentara Bayside Hospital, 3, 212

Sevell family, 22

Sewall’s Point: in Sherwood legend, 139

Shades of Our Past, 190

Shaffer, Chester, 120, 217

Sharlie Lake Monster, 167

Sheets, Danielle, 205, 209. See also Place in Time, A

Sheppard, Nancy, 138

Sherwood, Grace: cultural significance of, 6–10, 88–92, 97, 101–6, 121, 144, 147–49, 156–60, 163–69, 183–92, 197, 200, 211, 215–16; death of, 84; debt suits, 82–83; as depicted in Cry Witch, 175–81; ducking of, 1–3, 53, 72–75, 79; economic status, 22–23, 28–30, 82–83; exoneration of, 209–14; family life, 13–19, 23, 53–54, 56–57; as feminist figure, 2, 138–39, 190, 223; highway marker dedicated to, 2–3, 4; memorial stone dedicated to, 214; popular depictions of, 1–4, 90–99, 183–91; reenactments of her ducking, 207–9, 213; statue of, 3, 211–14, 219–21; suit against the Barneses, 33–34, 38, 48–53; suit against Richard Capps, 30–33, 50–52; suit against the Gisburnes, 33–34, 47–53; suit against the Hills, 57–59; trial for witchcraft, 4–5, 59–60, 63–64, 68–69, 71, 79–82; as Virginia’s “only witch,” 8, 90–92, 98–99, 159; witchcraft accusations against, 33–34, 47–49, 63; as the Witch of Pungo, 159–60

—, legends about: as beautiful, 7, 114, 123, 131–34, 136, 138–39, 158, 169, 189, 205, 207, 216–18, 223; as the devil’s companion, 103, 115, 119–21; as a midwife/healer, 3, 7–8, 43, 205–7, 209, 211–14, 218–21; bringing rosemary, 106–13, 115, 167; causing a miscarriage, 68, 182, 206, 218; commandeering a ship, 111–17; conviction for witchcraft, 7, 116, 129, 143–44, 148, 209–14; dancing in the moonlight, 7, 103, 119–20, 158; death and burial, 120–21; development of, 102–6, 109–10, 122–24, 135–39, 217–18, 223–24; ducking, 125–26, 129–31, 139–43, 216; flying with pewter plates, 7, 103, 116–18, 142, 154; imprisonment, 81–82, 126, 131, 143, 164–65, 216; personality, 2, 7, 122–31, 134–39, 205–6, 219–21, 223; remaining in the Lynnhaven River, 118–19; sailing in an eggshell, 7, 106–16, 118–20, 121–22, 124, 156, 183, 185–86, 190; summoning storms, 142–43; trial, 124–25, 127–29, 130–31; wearing trousers, 2, 134–36, 158, 165, 183, 188, 205, 211, 217, 221, 223; where she lived, 192–98, 222

Sherwood, James, 13–14, 18, 20–24, 28–34, 47–53, 59, 99; death of, 53–54, 56; in Sherwood legend, 130, 138, 159, 213; suits against, 28–29, 50

Sherwood, James, Jr., 22, 83–84

Sherwood, John, 83–84

Sherwood, Richard, 84

Sibley, Charles, 184

Smith, Mamie, 147

Sons of the American Revolution (Norfolk chapter), 150

Southern Haint Stories (podcast), 221

Southern Literary Messenger, 91, 98

Spell, Gary, 190

Spooks in Rhythm (operetta), 185

Spotify, 218

Spotswood, Alexander: in Sherwood legend, 131, 143, 184, 207, 209

Spratt, Henry, 49–50

Squires, W. H. T., 105, 111–17, 119–20; Days of Yester-Year in Colony and Commonwealth, 149–50

Stephens, Alice, 8, 234n2

Stevens, Samantha (character on Bewitched), 205

Stevens, William, 173

Stoakley, Frances, 185

Stone, William, 126–27

“Story of Grace Sherwood, The” (Ingle), 103, 133

Strawberry Festival. See Pungo Strawberry Festival

Stutzman, JoAnne, 164–65

Tales to Tell (exhibit), 184

Tatham, William, 156

Taylor, Annie, 147–48

Taylor, Archibald, 88

Taylor, John, 51–52

Taylor, L. B., Jr., 104, 120, 134

Thoroughgood, Adam, 15–16, 25, 31; as depicted in media and public performances, 157, 185

Thoroughgood Elementary School (Virginia Beach), 186

Thoroughgood Farm, 119

Thoroughgood House, 188–89, 207

Tidewater, Virginia, 14, 17, 92, 99, 109, 157, 184

“Tidewater Landfalls” (newspaper column), 112

Tillotson, John, 91

Time Machine with Jack Perkins (A&E show), 217

trial by water, 5, 72–75, 80–82, 126, 207, 210; myths about, 1, 130, 140–41, 183, 186

Tucker, George H., 112–19, 121–22, 142, 154–55, 159, 218

Turner, Florence, 216

Turton, Thomas, 83

United States Fish and Wildlife Service, 197

Van Wyck library (Norfolk), 154

Virginia: cavalier tradition in, 87; in the colonial period, 13–18, 21–27, 67–68, 227n27; —, beliefs about witchcraft and witch trials in, 35–38, 41–44, 64–68, 79–81; —, county system, 21–22; —, housing, 19–20, 202n27; —, inheritance customs in, 21–23, 54–56; —, racial laws in, 95–97; —, religion in, 254n66; in the nineteenth century, 87–88, 89–94

Virginia Beach, xvi–xvii, 1–4, 6, 8–9, 90, 104, 109, 114, 119–20, 123, 137–38, 144, 148, 155–57, 159–61, 167–69, 177, 183–84, 186, 189–92, 196, 201, 203–5, 210–15, 216–18, 220–21, 224

Virginia Beach Aquarium, 189

Virginia Beach Fire Department, 198

Virginia Beach Sun, 189

Virginia Beach Surf and Rescue Museum, 223

Virginia Cavalcade, 133

Virginia High School League, video competition, 222

Virginia Historical Society, 87–90, 182–83

Virginia Legends Walk, 9, 143

Virginian-Pilot, 1, 108, 110, 112–13, 117, 136, 138, 140–41, 148–49, 151, 153, 159, 164, 185, 189, 195, 200, 204, 210

“Virginia Witch, A” (Ingle), 97–98

Walke, Lewis, 200

“Walk with History” (YouTube channel), 221

Ward, Martha, 51

Warner, Mark, 210

War of 1812, 156

Waterfield, Betty, 164

Waterfield, Jim, 195

Webb, George, 85

Webb, Vianne, 216

Western Monthly Magazine, 91

“When Virginia Ducked Milady Witch” (Campbell), 127–30

Whichard, Rogers Dey, 109

White, Benjamin Dey, 150–53, 184, 209

White, Elizabeth, 152–53

White, John, 13–14, 16–20, 22, 24, 28–29, 47, 56, 99

White, John, Jr., 16

White, Judy, 162

White, Natalie, 185

White, Solomon, 16

White, Susan, 16

White Acre, 151–53, 200, 221

Whitehurst, William, 161

WHRO, 216

Wikipedia, 218

William and Mary, College of, 171

William and Mary Quarterly, 98–100

Williams, Elizabeth, 51–52

Williams, Thomas, 51–52

Williamsburg, Virginia, 5, 68–69, 79–81, 88, 120, 171–74, 190, 216; in Sherwood legend, 139. See also Colonial Williamsburg

Williamsburg Lodge, 174

Wilson, John, 197

Wilson, Midge, 1, 9

witch bottles, 41, 155, 189, 206

witchcraft and witch trials: in England, 36–37, 39, 60–61, 65–66, 70–71, 85, 91, 178; Europe, 5–6, 34–35, 39–40, 43–46, 60, 65–66, 69–70, 86, 99, 108, 113–14; German states, 65; Hungary, 85; interpretations of, 62, 86–87, 91–96; Lower Norfolk County, Virginia, 63, 65–66; Maryland, 42; New England, 6, 8, 34, 37, 39, 41, 43, 45–46, 60, 62, 65, 67, 70, 74, 93, 126; North America, 5, 36–37, 44–46, 60, 86–87; North Carolina, 42, 66; Pennsylvania, 91; Princess Anne County, Virginia, 3–4, 38–39, 41, 65–66, 88; Scotland, 39, 65, 85; South Carolina, 85; United States, 85, 113; Virginia, 35–38, 41–44, 64–68, 79–81; York County, Virginia, 39

“Witchcraft in America” (A&E episode), 217

Witch Crossed (play), 185

Witchduck, xvi, 1–4, 7, 9, 90, 92, 102–3, 106, 117–19, 122, 133, 140–41, 149, 155–57, 159, 186, 193, 199–202, 209, 224

Witch Duck Point, 2–3, 156, 202

Witchduck Road, 1–2, 9, 140

Witches, Magic, Murder, and Mystery (podcast), 219–21

Witch of Pungo (musical), 190

Witch of Pungo and Other Historical Stories of the Early Colonies, The (Kyle), 109, 135, 140, 157–59, 187, 214

Witch of Pungo Fest, 166–67

Witch of Pungo’s house. See Muddy Creek Road House

witch’s marks, 43, 60–64, 68–70, 79–80, 96, 126, 128, 176

witch’s sabbath, 39

Womble Realty, 156

women: as suspected witches, 44–47; as widows, 22, 26, 54–56

women’s liberation movement, 136

Woodbooger, 167

Woodhouse, Josiah, Jr., 200

Wren Building, College of William and Mary, 171

Wright, Joan, 8, 36, 43–44, 91, 174, 178

YouTube, 218–23