Stockwell, 1772: the flying crockery, the fleeing household and Ann Robinson

The principal early narrative was published in London in 1772 as an ‘authentic, candid, and circumstantial’ account of transactions at Stockwell on Monday and Tuesday, 6 and 7 January. It claimed the consent of the family and other parties, with signatures appended on 11 January.

Andrew Lang reproduced the story in Cock Lane and Common-Sense, identifying its publisher as J. Marks of St Martin’s Lane. His summary preserves the names of Mrs Golding, her niece Mrs Pain, servant Mary Martin, labourer Richard Fowler and Fowler’s wife Sarah among those associated with the statement.

Ann Robinson, newly employed by Mrs Golding, appears throughout the narrative but was not one of its signatories. That distinction helps when assessing who endorsed the printed version and who became the subject of its later interpretation.

The action is unusually compressed. Unlike a haunting said to continue for generations, this narrative tracks a rapid domestic crisis across hours and addresses.

At about ten in the morning Mrs Golding heard breaking crockery. Going into the kitchen, she reportedly saw plates fall from the dresser without anyone close to them. A clock and lantern followed, and a pan containing salt beef cracked.

A carpenter called Rowlidge suggested a practical explanation: recent building work above might have affected the house’s foundations. The story began, therefore, with an ordinary structural possibility being considered alongside the frightening movement of objects.

Mrs Golding went to her neighbour Mr Gresham and fainted. Ann, by contrast, was described as remarkably composed. Mrs Pain was summoned, while fragile belongings were carried away from the original house in an attempt to preserve them.

This removal of possessions is the first turning point. The household tried to escape the presumed source by changing buildings, but the story’s disturbances began to accompany their property and their movements.

At Gresham’s, glasses and china were said to move and fall from a sideboard. Mrs Golding’s distress led to the period medical practice of bleeding; even the receiving basin was reported to break. A bottle of rum also burst.

For roughly three-quarters of an hour she took shelter at Mr Mayling’s. Nothing unusual was recorded there during that stay. Meanwhile, at Gresham’s, where Ann was packing possessions, a tray, a quadrille box, pickles and raspberry jam reportedly joined the growing list of breakages.

At about two in the afternoon Mrs Pain took her aunt to her own home at Rush Common. The changing locations create a useful way to follow the account: the first kitchen, Gresham’s house, Mayling’s brief quiet refuge and then the niece’s home.

Later summaries sometimes turn all these incidents into one room filled with flying objects. The pamphlet’s sequence is more specific and stranger: the disturbance seemed to travel through a small network of domestic assistance.

Around eight that evening a row of pewter dishes was said to fall from a shelf, roll and turn over. Replaced on the dresser, the dishes repeated the performance. One egg reportedly crossed the kitchen and broke against a cat; a pestle and mortar were described as jumping from the floor.

The family placed glass and crockery on the ground to prevent further falls, but the narrative says the objects moved and broke there too. Candlesticks, kettles and provisions were included among the subsequent disturbances.

Ann kept moving about and resisted requests to sit down. A quiet interval occurred when she joined prayers for about half an hour. The early account links her presence with the events without supplying a witnessed method for each movement.

Richard Fowler arrived at about ten and remained until the early morning before leaving frightened. By five, Mrs Golding was calling her niece because furniture was allegedly tumbling about. The observers’ fatigue and the overnight chronology are part of the experience recorded.

The women crossed to Fowler’s house, but the account says the disturbance resumed once Ann arrived. Fowler questioned whether Mrs Golding had committed some offence that might explain a providential punishment.

She rejected that accusation and decided she could wait out the ordeal in her own house as well as anywhere else. This exchange shows the social pressure within the story: unexplained breakages quickly became a question about the householder’s moral character.

Back at home, the remaining possessions reportedly suffered. A beer cask turned over and a pail of water was said to behave as though boiling. Mrs Golding dismissed Ann, and the narrative brought the crisis to a close.

The quantities of broken material were described in pails of fragments—three at Mrs Golding’s and two at Mrs Pain’s. These homely measurements give the pamphlet its character: an extraordinary claim expressed through the practical losses of a household.

The sequel came much later. Lang cited William Hone’s Every-Day Book for an account that an older man, Mr Braidley, told Hone in 1817 that he had known Ann and that she admitted using horsehair, wires and other simple devices.

That is a reported confession through an intermediary, decades after the event. Lang explicitly noted the absence of an attested statement from Braidley. It should therefore be presented with its date and route of transmission, rather than rewritten as a filmed exposure in the kitchen in 1772.

At the same time, the later explanation belongs in the file. Ann’s movements, her calmness and the quiet interval during prayers were already prominent in the early narrative. The two documentary layers invite comparison without making the later anecdote more immediate than it is.

The pamphlet’s signatures establish endorsement of an account, not that every signatory watched every object. Individual incidents, the overall sequence and the eventual explanation have different evidential histories.

The case is memorable for its moving household geography. Every attempt to protect possessions or take shelter seems, in the narrative, to relocate the problem. It offers an early example of a disturbance associated with a person and a group of witnesses rather than permanently attached to one building.

Compare it with Enfield for a much later domestic investigation, or Cock Lane for a London case involving a young person, adult observers and a disputed explanation.

Stockwell’s strongest historical shape is its complete sequence: initial accident, proposed structural cause, frightened relocation, further reported events, dismissal and a retrospective confession story. Keeping those stages together is more informative than simply calling it a kitchen haunted by flying plates.

6 January 1772, about 10am — Initial reported crockery falls at Mrs Golding’s.

6 January, afternoon — Household sought refuge with neighbours and then Mrs Pain at Rush Common.

6–7 January, overnight — Further reported dish and furniture movements; Fowler attended for part of the night.

7 January — Return to Mrs Golding’s and dismissal of Ann Robinson, according to the narrative.

11 January 1772 — Signatures appended to the published account.

1817 — Date attributed to Braidley’s reported explanation to Hone.

1894 — Lang included the pamphlet narrative and later explanation in his comparative study.

Andrew Lang, Cock Lane and Common-Sense — Comparative Psychical Research chapter reproduces the 1772 tract’s sequence and cites Hone’s later explanation. Search Stockwell.

Poltergeist Archive: Stockwell, 1772 — Collection of historical newspaper excerpts; distinguishes the contemporary reception and later retellings.

Stockwell Green location photograph — Modern neighbourhood reference and CC BY-SA image record.