So Pure it Floats: Ivory Soap or An Accused Witch?
Imagine that you are living sometime in the 1600s in America or England, and have been accused of witchcraft. Only a few things might save you: being very skinny, underfed, very lean or very muscular. Or being a man.
There were not many ways of proving innocence to witchcraft, but one was variously termed the “ordeal by water”, “ducking” or the “swimming test”.
Simply described, the accused witch’s hands would be bound, a rope tied about the waist, and then he or she would be “ducked” (i.e., dunked) into a body of water. The outcome was straightforward: If the accused sank, the verdict was one of innocence; otherwise, guilty. The rope was then used to bring the individual out of the water, either to be released as a good Christian, or to be condemned to death as a witch.
Most accounts describe these events as having taken place in the 1600s and 1700s, but the practice is much older. Known as the Ordeal of Cold Water (judicium aquae frigidae), this spectacle was first put into law in Western Europe in England in the year 930 CE by King Aethelstan. From there it was further enshrined by William the Conqueror prior to 1100 CE. In essence, the law or idea of a water ordeal, although not necessarily commonplace, was certainly considered an effective legal method to determine guilt or innocence in trials of witchcraft.
In the most “ideal” ordeal, a Priest or member of the clergy would consecrate a body of water in order to fully purify it. This however was not absolutely necessary in that water was generally deemed to be a “pure” substance and as such would reject anything “impure” — which would be the case of a person who had given their soul in service to Satan. The water would therefore reject the body of the impure individual by causing it to float.
In the words of King James I (the Bible guy):
“[It] appears that God has appointed (for a supernatural sign of the monstrous impiety of the witches) that the water shall refuse to receive them in her bosom, that have shaken off them the sacred water of Baptism, and willfully refused the benefit thereof.”
Although many popular histories would lead one to believe that everyone had utter faith in the validity of this process and that it occurred with frequency, neither claim is completely accurate. Even prior to the 1600s, and certainly afterwards, authorities were uneasy with the notion of the swimming test, and were uncomfortable with drownings of “innocents” which occurred during the process. Furthermore, some questioned the seemliness of the trial, believing (quite rightly) that it smacked more of mob justice and salacious spectacle rather than due process.
Still, it did happen, and most of those found guilty were women.
I have a theory.
In a rather thorough search of various printed sources and internet records, it would appear that no one has considered body fat as a factor.
Those with more body fat and less muscle usually float more easily than those who are leaner. On average, women have more body fat than men; females averaging about 21-24% as opposed to males at about 15-20%. Furthermore, this disparity increases with age, where women over sixty have about 33% fat vs men at 25%.
Another factor that increases buoyancy is holding one’s breath; something that most swimmers know. However, in the historical period we are discussing, I believe it would be more likely that men would have some swimming abilities as opposed to women.
But let us return to the theory of the purity of water and to the idea of floating denoting purity.
Peruse any religious text or summary of beliefs and often there is a reference to water. It cleanses, bathes, heals, restores, replenishes or purifies. It is a common and enduring symbol of all major world religions from antiquity to the present day. In the Roman Catholic religion alone there are myriad references and uses for “holy water”, and baptism is practised in most Christian communities as well.
We will return to floating witches presently, but let us divert to the early 1900s through the 1960s.
According to company lore, Ivory Soap was born of a bad batch where too much air was introduced into the mixture and the resulting bar soap floated. There is no real evidence to suggest that this is a true “origin story”, but the marketing people had a stroke of pure genius (pardon the pun).
They began touting Ivory's purity by emphasizing that, unlike other brands of soap, it would float in water. This element of Ivory Soap's campaign continued well into the 1960s.
And here we have a complete reversal: The “pure” float and the “impure” sink like stones.
The early original advertisements for this pure floating soap, dating to around 1900, were created by the artist J.C. Leyendecker whose soap and other ads appeared in many mainstream publications such as Colliers and the Saturday Evening Post. Most of his work showcased scenes of blissful domesticity, but some works, such as art for Ivory Soap, are less pure than outright suggestive.
Leyendecker (1874-1951), a German-born American artist, who never married and who never had any children, lived most of his adult life with his favourite male model, a Canadian (born in Hamilton Ontario) named Charles A. Beach (1881-1954). Although Leyendecker never publicly or definitively confirmed his sexuality, most art historians believe he was almost certainly gay.
It is unlikely that Beach was the model for the Ivory Soap man, but I would like to think he was. And thank goodness the model — be it Charles or some other handsome man — was never accused of witchcraft in prior centuries. He likely would have floated like a bar of Ivory Soap, been yanked out of the pond by his tasselled rope and sent to the executioner along with condemned women.
Now, hold on to your pearls and take a moment to view once more the gloriously robed Ivory Soap man at the top of this post. Look just under the tasselled rope/sash, on the right-hand side of the image (on the model’s left). Once you see it, as they say, you can never unsee it.
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