The second noel
Christmas 1814 saw Marylebone—and the rest of the country—waiting anxiously on the impending arrival of the Second Coming at a house on Manchester Street: a drama whose impact would continue to be felt for decades to come
Words: Jean-Paul Aubin-Parvu
On Christmas Day 1814, Joanna Southcott lay writhing around in her bedroom at 38 Manchester Street trying her best to give birth to the Messiah. It didn’t end well.
Born in 1750 at Gittisham, Devon, Southcott spent her early years working as a farm labourer and domestic servant. In 1792, after the death of her mother, she became gripped by mystical fervour, and—claiming to be in direct communication with God—began making daily prophecies of a New Jerusalem and the Second Coming.
This turn of events was very much of its time. The French Revolution of 1789 had ushered in a period of political and social turbulence in Britain. Wars raged across Europe and Napoleon stood poised to invade. For many religious dissenters, these events were a signal of the end of days and the imminent return of Christ. Visionaries were everywhere. As Southcott foretold how large proportions of the population would perish against Napoleon’s invasion forces and William Blake wrote of “dark satanic mills”, Richard Brothers overstepped the mark by prophesying the death of the King and the end of monarchy. This London-based Prince of the Hebrews was arrested for treason and imprisoned. Strange days indeed.
In 1801, Southcott published a book, The Strange Effects of Faith, a mix of doggerel and prose relating to her conversations with God. Boosted by its significant sales, she moved to London and became a national celebrity. Dozens of societies were set up to discuss and interpret her works. Though often derided by both public and press, Southcott’s following included members of the clergy, theologians, scholars and artists. Thousands bought signed letters bearing her red Celestial seal, which were known as “passports to heaven”.
The ruler of all nations
Southcott made an unabashed claim to be the woman spoken of in Revelation (12:1-5): “And there appeared a great wonder in heaven; a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of 12 stars: And she being with child cried, travailing in birth and pained to be delivered ... and she brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations with a rod of iron.”
And so, in 1814, the 64-year-old prophet made it known that she was pregnant with the Messiah. The baby was due on 19th October and would be called Shiloh. It was, of course, an immaculate conception: no man had come anywhere near her; this was purely the work of God. The news sparked great excitement among her followers, many of whom uprooted themselves to London to await the Messiah. Supported by donations, Southcott moved to Manchester Street in the increasingly plush suburb of Marylebone, where, in preparation for the Second Coming, gifts began to arrive by mail coach, including an elaborate silver-mounted cradle, a gold font and large sums of money. As the midwives of London fought for the honour of delivering the Messiah, shops were filled with Joanna Southcott paraphernalia, such as cradles containing Shiloh dolls.
The Russian ambassador and the Tsar’s aide-de-camp came to visit, as did more than 20 doctors, including both the French empress Josephine’s own gynaecologist and the royal physician, Dr Richard Reece. Upon examining the visionary, the majority declared that despite her age she did appear to display all the normal signs of pregnancy. The newspapers had a field day. The Napoleonic Wars were relegated to the inside pages of The Times and the Daily Monitor to make room for daily reports about Southcott and her Holy Shiloh. According to one newspaper: “Excitement could not have been more intense if the dome of St Paul’s had collapsed.”
October came and went, yet no baby appeared. As Christmas approached, Dr Reece was called upon to examine the expectant mother. He was heard to mutter: “Damn me if the child has not gone.” Southcott was by now in great pain. On Christmas Day she stated that the pain was in her side and that the baby was attempting to enter the world. She soon fell into a coma and two days later took on what her followers called “the appearance of death”. At 3am on 28th December this was confirmed by a doctor as actual death. A post-mortem examination resulted in the discovery that Southcott had been suffering from dropsy, which caused internal flatulence and glandular enlargement of the breasts, giving the appearance of pregnancy. She was buried in St John’s Wood churchyard on 1st January 1815.
The great red dragon
Though many disciples became disillusioned, the inner core remained undaunted. They believed that Shiloh had been born on Christmas Day as Joanna had foreseen, but had been whisked straight up to the heavens to save him from the great red dragon of the Book of Revelation, “with seven heads and 10 horns and seven crowns upon his heads that would devour the child as soon as it was born”. Joanna and Shiloh, these disciples firmly believed, would one day return to lead them all into paradise.
The most prominent of these followers was a farmer called John Wroe. In 1819, Wroe was struck down with a life-threatening illness but made a miraculous recovery, after which he began to experience visions and trances. By December 1822, Prophet Wroe had become leader of a Southcott-inspired sect known as the Christian Israelites. On 29th February 1824, at Apperley Bridge, north of Bradford, a crowd of 30,000 gathered on the banks of the River Aire eager to watch Wroe perform a miracle, although exactly what miracle he would perform was still being hotly debated. The clever money was on Wroe doing a Moses, by parting the waters of the Aire and walking across the dry riverbed. Others expected him to literally walk on water. Alas, the prophet sank like a stone into the freezing depths.
A few months later, fresh controversy stuck to the prophet like Aire river mud. He and a girl named Sarah Lees found themselves “with child”, causing more than a little eyebrow raising among the congregation. Wroe tried to calm things by claiming that this would in fact be the coming of the boy Messiah. Again. On 17th July 1824 the moment came. The congregation rejoiced. Yet, the midwife’s cries of “It’s a girl!” were not quite what they’d been expecting. Wroe thought it prudent to skip town.
His next stop was Ashton-under-Lyne near Manchester, which would, claimed Wroe, be the New Jerusalem. Luckily Ashton had plenty of wealthy Chosen People to pay for the construction of the Holy City, including a church, The Sanctuary, which was opened by Wroe and his followers on Christmas Day 1825. Here, women accused of “unchastity” would be taken to a “cleansing room”, beneath the pulpit, to be stripped naked then whipped raw by the prophet with a birch rod.
Prophet Wroe received a command from God to take seven virgins to “cherish and comfort” him. The church elders stated that Wroe and the virgins would act in every way as husband and wife, but without the sex. Perish the thought. Things soon turned sour: in 1827, a 12-year-old girl accused Wroe of sexual interference, and further allegations from other young women began to reach the ears of the Christian Israelites. Wroe left Ashton under cover of darkness, eventually settling in Wrenthorpe near Wakefield, where he built himself a fabulous private mansion. During Wroe’s lifetime he made many trips to Australia, building an impressive following. In the summer of 1862, he voyaged there for the last time. He died the following February at the Christian Israelites Sanctuary in Fitzroy, Melbourne.
The sealed box
But that wasn’t the end of Joanna Southcott’s legacy. On her Marylebone deathbed, she had, it was claimed, left behind a sealed box, which should only be opened in a time of national emergency when the contents would reveal the country’s path to salvation. Along with other conditions, the prophet stated that it should only be opened in the presence of 24 bishops of the Church of England.
There were repeated calls during both the Boer Wars and the First World War to have the vessel opened, but England’s bishops showed a marked reluctance to respond. There was also plenty of debate about who had taken possession of the actual box and where they might have put it. In 1927, Harry Price of the National Laboratory of Psychical Research said that he had received the sealed box along with a letter stating its authenticity. He organised a public ceremony at the Hoare Memorial Hall, Westminster on 11th July to which he invited three archbishops and 80 bishops. Only the Bishop of Grantham attended. Instead, the hall was packed out with the press, psychic enthusiasts, mediums and a colourful assortment of crackpots. Followers from two Southcott societies caused a disturbance, declaring the event to be sacrilege.
Gasps rang out as Price went at the box enthusiastically with a pair of metal shears. After cutting the bands he prized the lid open with a jemmy. The 56 items inside were held up dramatically to the audience. They included a lottery ticket from 1796, religious pamphlets, a selection of racy novels, a woman’s night cap, a dice box, a bone puzzle and a pair of gold earrings. The silence in the hall must have been deafening.
The Panacea Society, based in Bedford, strongly denies that this box was genuine, and claims to have the real Southcott box in its possession. The society won’t reveal the exact location of the Ark of the Testament (said to be the size of a small coffin) but says that it is being held for safe keeping in a secret location in the Bedford area. The Panacea Society was formed just after the First World War by Mabel Barlthrop (known as Octavia), Helen Exeter, Rachael Fox and Kate Firth, who each felt that the world might be a better place if only the bishops would attend to Joanna’s legacy. They soon discovered that Barlthrop, who a decade earlier had suffered a mental breakdown, was actually the reincarnation of Southcott’s divine Shiloh child. Since the 1920s the society has taken out regular advertisements in national newspapers and on billboards. They carry the chilling message: “Crime, Banditry, Distress of Nations and Perplexity will continue until the Bishops of the Church of England agree to open Joanna Southcott’s Box of Prophecies.” As this past year of distress and perplexity makes abundantly clear, all such warnings have thus far been ignored.