Witchcraft in Shropshire

As a child, I was absolutely fascinated by witches. I used to make potions in my bathroom, chant spells to myself quietly and I truly looked for magic everywhere. From Nanny Ogg to ‘The Worst Witch’, narratives of witchcraft added colour to my world. There was something so tangible about them, something that just made sense. I think I found myself in their stories and now I can see how my affinity for witches has shaped me into the person that I am today. Far from mysterious or filled with profane wisdom, my witchcraft was practical, introverted and highly connected to the natural world. It whispered of mud, wood and stone. It was animism and ancestors and later, it became recitation and remembrance. I think that history is a magic of in its own right, and my love of the past is intrinsically linked to my understanding of the craft, and my connection to the genius loci. I often say that however muddled my belief system is, it is shaped by life under the Wrekin. My fascination with witches has continued well into my adult years and now, a good chunk of my research has been focused on understanding the historical legacy of witchcraft in Shropshire, and the lives of those who were linked to the practice, whether folkloric or historic.

Shropshire has a fascinating relationship with witchcraft which can be seen in both folkloric accounts and historical ones. Certainly, it would be fair to suggest that witchcraft in some form or other features heavily within the history and folklore of the county. Undoubtedly, at times such practices were so intrenched into the lives of the populus, that it would be hard to separate or classify them. ‘Witchcraft’ itself is difficult to define, though I would argue at least in Shropshire’s context it is a loose title for a number of practices including apotropaic markings and charms which ensure protection, moon reverence, fortune telling, herbalism, sympathetic magic, cursing and love charms. Magic served as a means of protection from maleficent forces, a promise of safety in a difficult world but it was also used by the witch, who was subject to the same stereotypes that can be found cross culturally. The juxtaposition between protection and potential for harm is evident in the presentation of witchcraft in the county, both of which we will be exploring. Though it is difficult to quantify folk belief, there is evidence to suggest that at times, the power of witches was tangible, and had the potential to impact life in a myriad of ways.

Furthermore, the threat of Witchcraft was not limited to one specific area of Shropshire, rather it could be found across the county. From the collieries of East Shropshire through to Clun and the more agrarian spaces, witchcraft was a potent, unpredictable force. In truth witchcraft served many purposes and could manifest itself in a number of ways depending on the community. Just as it struck fear into the hearts of many, its rituals whispered of the potential of comfort, protection or even a semblance of control. In many ways it was a staple of the domestic sphere. However, Witchcraft could at times be an incredibly isolating factor within the community, with many of those who were accused of practicing it being ostracised from local life, as we shall soon see.

It is worthy of noting that the traditional practices associated with witchcraft are very different to our notions of Neo-Paganism or Witchcraft in the 21^st century. Though there has been a resurgence of interest in folk practices and folk magic within the pagan sphere, with many turning to traditional cultural practices for a more ‘authentic’ form of witchcraft. Our Shropshire rituals existed in the realm of Christian belief. This is not to suggest that they have no relevance to pagans or that we could not reinvigorate them within a more secular age, rather it simply means that there was no unbroken line of paganism from antiquity through to the 19^th century in the history of Shropshire. It is true that some of our rituals may have origins in far earlier times, as it is common for magic to continue long after its original purpose has been served, but for much of their history they would have existed within the binary of Christian faith. Indeed, part of the fear of witchcraft was that witches upended the natural Christian order and were in league with wicked spirits and the Devil. We cannot understand the cultural phenomena of witchcraft in any locality without its Abrahamic context. Our stories are a product of a land that was shaped by Christianity.

Just like other areas of the country, those accused of Witchcraft in Shropshire were often women on the fringes of polite society, the old, the poor and infirm. They could be women to dared to defy expectation during a time of deep misogyny, who stood out in a particular way due to looks or behaviour, or simply those in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, it is important to note that many practitioners would have been indistinguishable from anyone else, for folk magic was in the home and hearth, it was the coins protecting the threshold and the sign of the cross over the proving bread. It was the way in which meaning could be given to a world of uncertainty.

I want to explore Shropshire’s relationship with witchcraft in more detail now, focusing on several areas. This will include preventative methods against bewitchment, some notable names in witch lore as well as the impact witchcraft had on the community. Finally, we will turn to what belief in witchcraft can tell us about Shropshire’s history. This will not be an exhaustive account of occult practices within the area; however, I hope that it will provide an insight into a fascinating area of our folklore.

Let us first turn to the preventative measures taken to hinder the power of witches. As with other areas, there were a number of ways one could protect themselves, and their home from the power of witches. For house protection, one could turn to rowan wood, mountain ash or witch hazel, which were usually hung in bunches over the threshold. In south Shropshire, simple crosses of rowan wood were made and hung-over doorways as defence against witches, fairies, and wicked spirits. Ash boughs were also hung over doorways or beds as protection and to ward away nightmares. Horseshoes also served a similar purpose, hung to prevent witches interfering within the domestic sphere (interestingly, a horseshoe nailed over the door to a bedroom had the potential to prevent nightmares, and ‘cure a haunted house’).  To find a horseshoe and hang it in your home held particular potency and in Shropshire it was thought that the iron itself was the source of protection. One could also place thorns on beams or the houses thresholds to ward away evil, as neither witches or the devil were said to like sharp things. Shoes were often placed in chimney stacks to ward away witches and the Devil. Other apotropaic offerings included coins, animal remains as well as carvings and symbols burned into the beams. These offerings all promised to remove the possibility of maleficence but are also a form of magic in themselves. They demonstrate the appeal of ritual practice when faced with life’s uncertainty.

Similar to the offerings mentioned above, paper charms were often written out and placed within the brickwork, to bring good fortune to the house. A brilliant example of this practice is found within a house in Madeley, in 1882. The man of the house was busy cleaning out his chimney when he came across a piece of folded paper, sealed with red wax on one of the joists.  The outside had been blackened with soot and age – and he was pretty sure he hadn’t put it there. So, he decided to take a peek. Upon opening he found it contained the following worlds, neatly written in some unknown hand:

‘I charge all witches and ghosts to depart from this house,

In the great name of Jehovah and Alpha and Omega’.

This is a wonderful, powerful statement, demanding the spirits and wicked witches to leave the house, and its inhabitants unharmed. It serves as a tangible act of protection, empowering the individual through direct action against unseen powers bent on harm. It is interesting to see the charm mentioning both witches and ghosts, as both are deeply embedded within local folklore. There were at least two witches in Madeley, (and a whole gaggle of ghosts) one witch was said to be so small, she could ride on the back of a cuckoo and would use this mode of transport to frequently terrorise the local community to amuse herself.

There are a number of examples of written charms within the county, particularly in the north and all along the border. Such charms usually invoke religious images, and language that would have been familiar from Sunday sermons. They are usually a tool of protection or used to ward away a particular illness. L. Hayward informs us that there was a cunning man from Llanyblodwel called John Davies who was well known locally for his spell work and written charms. These written charms usually employed biblical imageries, imploring God to ‘Draw hold of spear and stop the way against them that persecute (him)… Let the angel of the lord persecute them’. He created such charms for both personal use and household protection. Further examples of biblical language in charming can be seen in many cures, including one that was said to cure toothache. Though incomplete, W. J. Slack provides a translation in his ‘Survey of Oswestry’ that dated from around 1604.

‘Saint Peter was sitting by the sea and his teeth… Jesus came and said, Peter why are you sad? Oh Lord, they grieve me! Jesus said Peter go in health and whoever shall carry this writing shall be whole. Christ lives, Christ rules, Christ reigns and he saves all from toothache.’

The subject of quasi-religious language being invoked during protective rituals is worthy of separate discussion, but in part I would argue that its use is significant due to such language being representative of power. Religious language is particularly potent and was believed tap into God’s authority and thus his protection. Holy words possessed intrinsic power so their inclusion in written charming increased their potential for results. Furthermore, certain passages of the bible had a long association with protection against demons, witches or illness. For example, Psalm 91 (he who dwells in the shelter of the highest) was thought to be intrinsically defensive. So, to carry such language with you was a tangible reminder of God’s presence and his role in your safety. Finally, the use of religious language provided cultural legitimacy in an era when such practices were condemned or discouraged, it made your charm appear as piety rather than superstition.

 

If you were still concerned about getting cursed, one could decorate the threshold and hearth stone with decorative knot like patterns by rubbing elder, dock or oak leaves onto the surface. These patterns were said to be a powerful barrier to both the witch, and their magic. They also kept away wicked spirits and the Devil, so were considered powerful. In Wrockwardine, glass ‘witch balls’ were blown and were hung in windows and doorways for protection. For personal protection you could carry pieces of Rowan wood, which were also tied to cattle for their safety.  It seems that such objects, though often everyday things allowed individuals to feel like they were reclaiming power, even in situations far beyond their control. Protective charms were incredibly important in Shropshire, as the threat of witches or maleficent magic could come from even the most mundane of items. We are told by Charlotte Burne that even the Bible had the potential to curse. Indeed, if you chanted psalm 109 at a wedding, it would have a terrible effect on the newlyweds, even having the potential to inflict death. This hints of the way in which literacy was viewed in a less literate society, but also the powerful sway religion held in rural communities. It also links to our previous point, that religious language held a power of its own, that could be harnessed by anyone for good or ill.

When baking or brewing, Shropshire folk would make the sign of the cross over their malt and flour. This prevented the food from being bewitched, which was a common act of the witch. If one wanted to directly protect themselves, silver is often suggested to be the most powerful charm against witches. Charlotte Burne suggests that it is particularly potent in the form of a silver bullet. Silver bullets were seen as one of the only ways you could harm a witch in Shropshire, though I think any bullet would have harmed when shot at a poor unsuspecting woman.

 I want to now turn to Shropshire’s witches in both folklore and history. It’s important to note that some of what we know about witches in the area has been reduced to a few lines of folklore, or a vague historical reference, but nethertheless they are still worthy of discussion. What is known is that there were very few actual witch trials in Shropshire during their height, and it was uncommon for women to be put on trial in comparison to other parts of the country. Despite the lack of prosecution, women imbued with such skills were ostracised within the community, persecuted, and lead difficult lives. One of the strongest examples of such is the life of Ann Morgan (Nanny Morgan) who I have written in length about on a previous post. Male practitioners of witchcraft are also seen throughout the folklore, such as ‘Dick Spot the Conjurer’ from Oswestry. He was deemed extremely powerful in the profane arts, as well as being an excellent astrologer. He also had the power to predict the future, most notably he predicted the murder of the King of Sweden in 1792. There is also a man named Thomas Light of High Ercall who was purported to use magic. He could influence the outcome of Cock fights, advise on love affairs, cure the sick and recover stolen property. He was said to battle the Devil in the lanes and byways around High Ercall on cold winter’s nights.  It was believed that his death was brought about by a rival wizard ‘Jack O’ the Weald Moors’ who used charms and divination to end a long-standing feud between the men by enchanting him to death. Such men are fascinating in their own right and will be explored in a future post.

We are told that certain areas in Shropshire are more witch ridden than others, though all have the potential to be the home of witches. Prolley Moor an isolated community in South Shropshire is said to be a meeting place for witches, where they gather to consult each other, and spread their wickedness. The Stiperstones has perhaps the strongest link to witchcraft in the whole of Shropshire. It has a reputation for being a wicked place, and the seat of Satan’s power, and thus witches flock to the area. It is said that on Friday nights all of the witches of the county ascend the slopes to the Devil’s chair and hold a meeting, where they plan their sinful schemes for the following week. As well as this, on the winter solstice ‘Owd Scratch’ calls forth all the wickedest folk, the witches, warlocks, sinners, and evil spirits to come to the chair, where they perform the most important Black Mass of the year, and vote for the king or queen of evil. There is something very otherworldly about the Stiperstones, an emptiness transporting you to a liminal space, away from the watching world and thus it would be the perfect location for such a gathering.

 Some of our earliest references to witchcraft in the county come from the late 1500s. We are told that in 1570 ‘Bessie of Belle Vue’ was found guilty of witchcraft, however the actual verdict and punishment was sadly lost to time. A very tragic potential witchcraft case can be found in Much Wenlock, in 1545. Alice Glaston was just 11 years old when she was hanged, and though her actual crime has been lost to history, it is often suggested that she was tried for witchcraft, or perhaps murder. Her story reaches through the centuries and is marred by injustice. One cannot help but feel a particular pang of sorrow for this young girl, destined for the gallows, and wonder just what chain of events caused her to end up there.

Another early reference to a witch trial is that of ‘Mother Garve of Castle Foregate’ in Shrewsbury being tried at the corn market in 1579. She was said to have bewitched cattle and was thus punished for this, perhaps via the pillory. In 1641 there was accusations of witchcraft against Elizabeth Conney of Castle Foregate, within the evidence it referenced her ‘evil behaviour’ with her cursing a woman called Jane Meale and ‘wished that the said Jane might melt away like butter in the sun and not be able to cut her children’s bread’. In 1649 the court in Ludlow was presented with evidence of the witchcraft of a woman called ‘Margaret Budge’. It was recorded that Margaret-

‘Said that she delivered of a child in the green meadow and there came about her many pretty things and one said that God had given her a gift to do diverse things and help them that are sick and those that had lost their goods’

Sadly, the verdict of her trial is not known though it is a fascinating account. A court record also exists for Margeret Bridgen who was accused of ‘exorcising witchcrafts, charms and sorceries etc’ at court Leet in Ludlow during 1650. In 1659 Janet Wright was tried for witchcraft but given a not guilty verdict. The same verdict was given to Joseph Wright in 1663 and Maria Davey in 1666. Soulton Hall can also boast of being the location of a witch trial in 1660. The accused woman had been brought before the justice of the district, Thomas Hill by the townspeople of Wem. However, the allegation of witchcraft was dismissed, and she was cleared of any wrongdoing.

There are two other notable witch trials in the county, which sadly are harder to prove, that of Kathryn Garner and her sister-in-law Mary Lacye Garner. These may be more in the realm of folklore but are still worthy of noting. Kathryn was said to have died by drowning in 1663 during a trial by water. Her sister-in-law also was said to have suffered the same fate during her trial, though I can find no concrete evidence of such a trial or their existence. Perhaps their story is symbolic, imploring us to understand the cruelty of such a punishment.

The interesting thing about these early references is that they provide us with an insight into the sorts of acts that may inspire a witchcraft accusation. Cursing, cruel words or behaviour outside of the accepted norm may have opened a person up to such accusations. The lack of evidence of witch trials within Shropshire suggests that witchcraft may have been seen as a moral issue rather than a legal one.

We are provided with further early references to witchcraft, though they do not relate to trials. One such is Thomas Owen of Mainstone (near Bishop’s castle) who we are told kept the vicar of the parish awake, wracked by violent, unseen terrors due to the potency of his curses in 1616. At about the same time over in Greete (near Ludlow) a woman known as Joan Davies was excluded from Easter communion on the grounds that she had cursed all her neighbours. In ‘Shred’s and patches’ we are told that in 1613 a woman from Mardol in wrote to the bailiffs of Shrewsbury to petition against the accusations slighting her name. She writes that she is being depicted as

 ‘a lewd woman scandalised…(accused) first of murdering my husband… Henry Evans a tailor dwelling in Mardol near the bridge some 29 years past. Secondly… accused for a witch and therefore was forced to forgo the town of Shrewsbury’

Sadly, I am yet to find any further references of her in my research, but hopefully she could clear her name of all aspersions. In the 18^th century we are told that Mary Bebb was charged at Shrewsbury, for ‘profoundly uttering 67 curses’ one can only speculate what drove her to enact so many.

In the British newspaper archives I came across a curious account of witchcraft reported in the Shrewsbury Chronicle on 25^th of July 1828. It is an enthralling portrayal of the belief in witchcraft and the potential power a witch may yield but also it demonstrates quite clearly how vulnerable someone accused of witchcraft may be. We are told that two years prior to the newspaper account, a woman came to lodge on ‘Hills Lane in this town’ with a man, his wife and young child. This street was in close proximity to Mardol, which during the 19^th century was notorious for its poverty (and was also meant to signify the Devil’s boundary) so one can imagine the same issues were prevalent in Hills Lane. we are told that after a short time the couple and the woman quarrelled, and the living arrangements fell apart. Upon leaving the house the woman declared that ‘she would put a spell on them and give them cause to remember her’ and soon enough, shortly after she left the child fell ill. As time passed, we are told that the child grew more and more sickly, until the parents became convinced that it would die unless the spell was broken.

They searched for their former lodger and eventually found her and implored her to return to the home and undue the curse she had put upon the child. Sadly, naught could be done, and not too long after the woman came to see the child, it passed away. The woman departed from the house, leaving the parents deep in their grief but two days later she visited them, and told the husband that ‘unless he bled himself in the arm and burnt his bed the curse that had deprived him of his infant would be transferred to himself’. The newspaper account tells us that he was not convinced, and he ensured that the woman was ‘well thrashed by his wife’ before casting her out and took ‘her to the cells’ giving her the charge as a witch. The narrative shifts forward now two years and we are told that the ‘witch’ ‘had the imprudence to venture into Hills Lane’. The mother of the child saw her and ‘the witch was bleeding and sprawling in the channel before she could utter a curse or spell’ The violence does not end here however, as we are told that she started shouting for ‘a knife so she could bleed the witch’. This is particularly interesting as there was a prominent folk belief that if you drew blood of the witch, you would reduce or even remove her power and put right the wrongs she had caused. I have seen references to such a practice in across Britain and as late as the 1870s.

Whilst the events were unfolding we are told a ‘celebrated cyprian’ (a term used to describe a woman who participated in sex work) heard the commotion and dragged the witch into her home to protect her. Whilst the witch was bleeding inside, a crowd had gathered who were threating to burn the house down unless the witch was returned to the mob so they could enact their idea of justice. Mrs Speake (the cyprian) retorted that she ‘dared them to injure a hair on the head of anyone under her protection’ and offered to fight anyone who was so disposed. I cannot help but admire her courage and feel her act of kindness highlights a remarkable woman. We are told that a fight did ensure, with a ‘sickly little woman’ leading the violent reproach against Mrs Speake. The fight is described in further detail, but we are told that ‘the witch was more fortunate than she deserved and escaped during the scuffle’.

This account is so evocative, and I cannot believe how innocuously placed it was within the newspaper. I could have very easily missed it. Though parts of it read quite sensationally (particularly the report of the fight between the women) what it demonstrates to us is that the witch was a tangible force, and the fear of their potential to harm inspired people to cast them out from their communities or commit violent acts. We do not know why the infant died, but what we do know is that the witch was blamed. She became a convenient placeholder for the unknown, a palpable embodiment of death staking its claim on the innocent. Perhaps she even played up to the reputation she had gained in an attempt to exert control or gain out of the situation financially, as there are many examples of cunning men and women using their reputation to beg for alms. I think it would be too convenient to take the stance of the newspaper account that the woman brought the violence on herself, as this completely negates the socio-economic situation and other factors that all play their role in this story. One cannot imagine the fear the woman must have felt, and it is interesting that the only person to come to her aid was another woman on the fringes of acceptability. What this story really demonstrates is the complexity of witchcraft narratives. Through the veil of grief, the witches’ power was tangible enough to cause the community to want to seek justice, to harm her. I believe that it is important to highlight the humanity at the centre of this story, and indeed any account of witchcraft. This story is a powerful reminder of the stigma associated with the term witch, even as we neared the end of the 19^th century.

Let us now look at some stories of witchcraft that are more grounded in Folklore as they can also give us an insight into the role of the witch within society. We are told that a woman known as ‘Owd Dolly’ from Edgmond gained quite a reputation for witchcraft in the 19th century. She was said to have great power and was a rather snappy dresser. For she dressed in very short skirts, lose jackets and a high steepled crowned hat. Despite her eccentric appearance she was well known as a malevolent witch and feared by the local community. She may have used this reputation to gain more alms whilst begging. An old witch called Priss Morris used to live in Cleobury North, and she had power over horses, being able to stop them in their tracks. Similarly, in the 19^th century the old lady who oversaw the care of Iscoed Turnpike Lane (near Whitchurch) was believed to be a witch. She too could influence animals, and one day, when a waggoner snook through the gate without paying the toll, she put a curse on both his horse, leaving them immobile for some time. Kitty Williams was another witch, who lived near Whittington and had amongst other powers, ‘The Evil Eye’. The Evil eye is a fascinating cross-cultural belief that states that you can cause harm to a person with a mere look.  We are told that the Rock face and caves beneath Bridgnorth Castle also seem have associations with witches. One of the witches attributed to the dwellings could turn herself into a hare or a cat, and have the dogs chase her for fun. She would ride about on a broomstick and disrupt waggoners on their journey’s. Catherine Gaskill wrote in 1905 about a witch known as Becky Smout, who had bewitched her gardener’s brother. We are given a superb description of Becky as ‘an old Gangrel…with a look of a vixen in her eyes’. She was said to have travelled to Shropshire some 70 years prior to Gaskill’s writings, on a broomstick to cause havoc. Smout had previously lived in the Parish of Stanton Lacy and Clun. All these tantalising glimpses of witchcraft add to our understanding of its role in the county, regardless of whether the women existed or not.

Another excellent Shropshire witch was a woman known as Betty Chidley. There are many versions of her story, including the version by Charlotte Burne. The story begins by introducing a family known by the name of Ambler, who occupied a farm at Wilderley, which is near Pulverbatch. Not too far from this farm there lived an older woman known as ‘Betty Chidley from the bottom of Betchcot’. Betty was described as ‘much in the habit of begging at the farmhouse’. Now it is important to note that begging for alms was not uncommon in Shropshire, with many calendrical events such as Christmas and All Souls Day providing the opportunity for those on the knife edge of poverty to receive support. Betty often got what she asked for, but one day she found that the farmer was away, and it was his wife that opened the door. The farmer’s wife had been mixing up some “supping” for the calves. She watched the good meal and milk stirred together over the fire and begged for a share. Mrs. Ambler, irritated, spoke sharply, and refused to give her any.

Betty only said in a decisive tone: “The calves wenna eat the suppin’ now.”

Little notice was taken of this at the time, but when the maid carried out the pail of carefully prepared “suppin” to the calves, they utterly refused to touch it. Three times over was the attempt made to give it them, but in vain.

Then Betty’s menacing words were called to mind, and as quickly she was sent for to the farm, and desired to bless the calves. “Me? bless your calves!” she said, “what have I to do with your calves?” but at last she surrendered to their pleas and said: “My God bless the calves.” All waited with bated breath, but the creatures refused to eat.

Soon enough, Mrs. Ambler began to realise why the blessing had not worked. Betty Chidley’s God was Owd Scratch himself!

Mrs. Ambler implored Betty to bless the calves properly, and threatened her with all sorts of wicked things, until Betty relented, repeating the phrase “God bless the calves.”

The farmer’s wife cast Betty away then and took the “suppin'” to the hungry calves, and to her satisfaction they came to meet her at the door of their house and ate their food with hearty appetite. Sadly, we know little of life for Betty after this event, but one can only hope that she found a means of looking after herself, in a world that was unkind to women like her.

In Much Wenlock there was an unnamed witch who was very malevolent. She was so powerful that folk usually did everything they could to avoid making her acquaintance. In 1881 it was reported that a woman was walking down the road into Much Wenlock carrying her baby, when this witch began to follow behind her. The baby was happy enough on the journey, eating an apple as they went. However, the witch took the baby’s apple, bit a piece of it before returning it to the child. The baby was once a fat and healthy thing, however from that day became filled with an unusual illness that never dissipated. The poor child pined and pined until it died. Such stories demonstrate desperation for clarity, something to grasp onto and blame after a tragedy rather than actual harm being enacted. Often the women highlighted as witches were older, and vulnerable in themselves, perhaps behaving in a way which defined conventions, and thus were easy scapegoats.

Women who practiced herbalism and traditional national remedies were often touted as witches. As late as the 1930s, Ida Gandy, whilst touring Shropshire was told of the witch, Isabella Pearce, who wandered around the village boundaries in a grey cloak gathering herbs. She made salves and medicines and was so popular for her knowledge that people travelled far and wide to consult her. In Llanbrook there was a woman with a similar set of skills, who brewed a drink of wormwood and mugwort from the hedgerows to medicate a number of ailments. These women, and women like them occupied a curious place within the community. They were often commodities, intrinsic to the inner workings of the village, but ostracised and even feared. This fear was often amplified to absurd proportions, demonstrated by the following anecdote.  W. Haye wrote that in 1954 there was a woman, living at the foot of the Wrekin known as Molly De Leyte who was believed, amongst other things to have the ability to turn into a cat, kept a toad (some believed to be Satan himself) in a jar which she fed on communion bread and could influence the weather. She wandered the area ‘communicating in strange tongues. I feel that far from being an incarnate of evil, Molly was perhaps a local eccentric, or even someone who had moved her life from afar to the foot of the Wrekin.

I think it is worth turning our attention now to the scale of belief in witchcraft within the county, as this will help us understand a little more about the role such played in society. Certainly, it is difficult to quantify belief of any variety, and this is no different when it comes to witchcraft, partly due to our body of which lore spanning centuries. We are told by Charlotte Burne, that after a new vicar came to take up his parish in the Clee Hills, he was shocked to find how village life was saturated by witchcraft. Desperate to demonstrate the error of their ways, he quickly endeavoured to guide his new parishioners to the light of God. He was quickly informed by the local school master in no uncertain terms that if he preached of its ills, he wouldn’t last long in the parish. I love this anecdote as it suggests that there was a prevalence of witchcraft, but moreover that the distinction between such practices and everyday life was hard to establish. Perhaps, this could be said for the whole of the county. We are told by W. Haye that life near the Wrekin during the 1950s was ‘an atmosphere half religious, half immersed in witchcraft’ which also suggests a prevalence of belief.  However, I think caution must also be exercised, and that we shouldn’t assume that all people lived in terror of the threat of witches. The people of the past were as manifold and complex as we are today, and this shouldn’t be ignored. If we suggest that all people feared witchcraft, it lessens inhabitants of the past to terrified peasants, incapable of critical thought and of doubtful intelligence. This is unfair. What we can definitively conclude is that there was a belief in witchcraft prevalent in Shropshire and that at different points in Shropshire’s history the purported threat of witches was felt stronger than other times. Witchcraft, like concepts such as the Devil, and even spirits served as a means of explaining the unexplainable, giving a name to the unseen powers that were beyond governance. In times of great personal struggle or trauma, witchcraft must have seemed like an attractive answer to life’s toughest questions.

 There are however a few accounts that demonstrate how palpable the fear of witchcraft was at times during Shropshire’s history. Such a fear is often linked to physical or psychological struggles and is interesting in itself. It’s important to remember that life in the countryside is often romanticised and portrayed as a peaceful rural idyll. This is not the case, and life could be fraught with isolation and hardship. In times of suffering, it left people searching for answers, or a scapegoat to lay blame.

We are told that Mrs Mansell of Longnor was sure that she was bewitched because something crept upon her person every night, leaving her feeling like every inch of her was covered. The poor woman had tried charms and bible passages to no avail. She tried thrashing the bed, but this didn’t work either. Being convinced she was being attacked spiritually, she turned to the parson to seek council. The parson was a practical man and enquired whether she had bed bugs. But Mrs Mansell declared to the parson that she was as ‘Clen as Clen’ and denied that this was the answer. Unable to find help, she continued to suffer, convinced it was an act of witchcraft that had caused her suffering. Today we might consider Mrs Mansell of suffering from a form of sleep paralysis or another more logical cause, but witchcraft served as a solution to her problem.

Charlotte Burne informs us that inhabitants of the coal districts, such as the East Shropshire Coalfield (modern day Telford and Wrekin, where I am originally from) were particularly susceptible to the belief in witches. One story from this area has always stuck with me due to how terribly sad it is. During 1875 we are told a man visited the office of a prominent public official in Oakengates to inform him that his wife and two daughters had a lingering illness, which was causing the family great distress. They had tried doctors, but the illness did not dissipate, which had cemented in his mind that the illness had been caused by witchcraft. The man was clearly desperate and begged the official to help him write a letter to a lady in Wellington who he knew had the power to help him put a stop to it. We are given a brief description of a man truly dejected by his situation and desperate to help his wife and children. We are told the man was a collier, and he is portrayed as a pitiful sight, his face marred by poverty and hardship. The official felt pity for the man and wrote the desired letter. I have always found this anecdote incredibly sad, though I struggle to articulate why. The mans struggles feel familiar to me, an echo of my own families’ experiences. Though my family were not bewitched in such a way, they would have known firsthand how hard life could be in the East Shropshire Coalfield. It was an incredibly vulnerable thing to reach out for help in the way he did. Charlotte Burne often refers to this part of the county as being characterised by its ignorance and I believe that this is quite unfair. His desperation should not be seen as ignorant, but rather as an indicator of how powerless he felt. Faced with the impalpable threat of death and illness, he turned to something he felt like he could control, he attempted to remove the curse, desiring a better situation for his family. His actions come from naught but love, and all these years later my heart still hurts for him. I truly hope he was able to find some solace, and his family recovered.

A remarkable and rather terrible anecdote regarding the fear of witches can be found taking place in Dawley during the 1800s. I originally found the tale reported in the newspaper through the British Newspaper archives, with the headline ‘The Villagers of Dawley killed a witch the other day’. It states that a local family had been plagued by a noise every night at their cottage door for close to two weeks. One evening, they waited up and set a gun on their nocturnal visitor, shooting a cat. This didn’t settle their minds however, as they were convinced the creature was a witch. They were said to then maimed the poor creature, with the local policeman being called to persuade the family to put the cat out of its misery. This is such a brutal image, and I felt quite uncomfortable reading it. I am by no means condoning such barbarity, but this story could be read in one of two ways. Either the purported family were truly convinced in the existence of a shape-shifting witch and the events took place, or that this tale was fictional and shared to poke fun at the area.

Certainly, in 19^th century Shropshire there were a number of tales that were developed to mock or belittle the people of the East Shropshire Coalfield. This is by no means unique to the area, as many towns have rivalry with each other, but these tales try to present the overwhelmingly working-class region as out of touch, criminal or plain stupid. Some examples of which are the story of the men of Madeley and the cuckoo, multiple stories about Dawley folk or the epithet that Shropshire people being ‘Strong in the arm and thick in the head’. Such stories paint people from my area as ignorant, or simply behind with the times, which is simply untrue. Sadly, even today Telford is subject to similar stereotyping, which is something I have always strived to challenge. Regardless of the stories purpose, it is worthy of including in alongside the body of Shropshire witch lore as it feeds into folkloric ideas of witches being able to shape shift and the power of a witches familiar.

Sadly, perceived witchcraft can sometimes have tragic consequences and serve as a reminder of the humanity of those involved. Rachel Griece, known to history only as ‘a cabinet makers wife’ sadly took her own life in the midwinter of 1870, due to the belief that she’d been bewitched and was destined for ruin. Rachel’s desperation is evident due to her actions, though we do not know what events unravelled to make her believe she was destined for ruin. Perhaps life had got too difficult to bear, and she struggled with her mental health, which is tragic in itself. Rachel demonstrates how real a fear of witches could be, and the extent that such a belief could impact a person. She is the stark reminder that such anecdotes are focused on people, they are not literary devices. Through observing folklore and practices surrounding witchcraft in Shropshire, we are given an insight into the fears of a community, and moreover how witchcraft is often driven by an overwhelming desire for answers. Faced with life’s intricacies, people endeavoured to categorise their struggles, perhaps to give them more strength to face them. The witch was as much of a symbol as it was a tangible thing, it was a conduit for the unseen powers that threatened to shipwreck a person or drag them off course. For such a supernatural being of immense and improbable power, witches can also be seen as incredibly human. Fraught with tragedy, they are our fears, our worries, our vulnerabilities, and our secret desires, they are us. They are the isolated, the unloved and the wronged. They are those who spent their lives in poverty, people who were blamed for things far beyond their control. They were the women who directly challenged the power of the patriarchy or were imbued with skills such as herbalism. They were an imperfect answer to life’s toughest questions.

Through folklore then, we are able to find a connection to those who came before us, we are their voices now, and I implore you to speak a little louder to ensure they truly can be heard.