Witchcraft in Shropshire

As a child, I was fascinated by witches. From Nanny Ogg to ‘The Worst Witch’, narratives of witchcraft and its intricacies added colour to my world. There was something so special about it, so tangible to me as a person often on the fringes of acceptability.  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, reciting, remembering, for history is a type of magic in its own right, and it was highly connected to my sense of place. This fascination has continued well into my adult years, and I often say that however muddled my belief system is, it is shaped by life under the Wrekin.

 It would be fair to say that witchcraft in some form or another features heavily within the history and folklore of Shropshire. Certainly, at times such practices were so intrenched into the lives of the Populus, that it would be hard to separate or define them. At times in Shropshire’s past, the power of witches was tangible, and impacted life in a myriad of ways. ‘Witchcraft’ 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, such as the ‘plucking the sage tree’ which I will be looking at in more detail in a further post. Witchcraft, and the threat of such could be found from the collieries of East Shropshire through to the Clun and the distant agrarian places, whose names feel like an ode to Middle earth. Witchcraft was the hidden threat, the force that you could not control but also that which you turned to for comfort, or help. It is worthy of noting that at least in Shropshire, traditional depictions of witchcraft should be distanced from our modern lens. The women and men who practiced these traditions were not neo-pagans or some continuation of an ancient pagan cult. Their stories are far more complex. They were less Lord Summerisle than they were Howie. Indeed, there simply isn’t the evidence to suggest paganism continued from antiquity through the history of Shropshire. Traditional practices may have had their origins in the county’s earliest intonation, but they would have been practiced by people whose lives were shaped by Christianity. It is true that those accused of witchcraft were often women on the fringes of polite society, those who dared to deny expectation in a time of deep misogyny, but also, they could be 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, looking at several areas. This will include preventative methods against bewitchment, some notable names in which 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 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. 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’). 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 can be seen in a way to be a form of magic in themselves.

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.

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 definitely considered powerful. In Wrokwardine, glass ‘witch balls’ were blown and were hung in windows and doorways for protection. 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.

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. Its 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.

We are told that certain areas in Shropshire are more witches 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 Glasson 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. 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.

Other early references to witchcraft do not relate to trials, such as 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 of 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. The few references to actual witch trials in the county suggest that it was more widely accepted, or perhaps seen as a social or moral issue rather than an actual legal one.  I would also argue that in many cases witchcraft in Shropshire was difficult to define, it was so engrained in folk belief that it didn’t have the same stereotypes attached to it as other areas. Witchcraft didn’t mark a pact with the Devil, rather it could be a tool to make sense of the world around you, to govern the intangible, it was exciting and mundane, a whole system of possibility waiting to be understood.

Let us now look at some stories of witchcraft that are more grounded in Folklore. 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. 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 was 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 caves cut into the rock 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.

Another excellent Shropshire witch was a woman known as Betty Chidley. There are many versions of her story, including that which is shared by Charlotte Burne, which is the source of my retelling. Other than being a formidable witch, she is also purported to be an ancestor of my very good friend and co-Host, Alix Chidley-Uttley. I like to think that Betty would be proud of her descendant continuing the tradition of witching and carving her own unique path in the world.

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 some accounts which demonstrate a profound fear of witches found within 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 being ‘Clen as Clen’ 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 coal districts, such as the East Shropshire coalfield (modern day Telford and Wrekin, where I am originally from) were particularly susceptible to belief in witches. During 1875 a man visited a public official in Oakengates to inform him of his wife and two daughters lingering illness, which caused them all great distress. He believed that this illness was caused by witchcraft, and he implored the public official to help him write a letter to a lady in Wellington to help him put a stop to it. The man was racked with worry and dejected by his situation. He was described as a pitiful sight, with a face marked by a lifetime of poverty and hardship. The official felt pity for the man and wrote the desired letter.  I have always found this anecdote particularly sad though I struggle to articulate why. The man’s struggle feels familiar to me, his life would have mirrored my own families’ experiences, poverty, industry and illiteracy. His desperation should not be seen as ignorant, but rather that of a man who felt powerless. 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.

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 cut off the ears and claws of the poor creature, before being persuaded by the local policeman to put it out of its misery. 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 or that this tale was shared to poke fun at the area. Certainly, within the 19^th century a number of tales developed to mock or belittle the people of the East Shropshire Coalfield, such as the story of the men of Madeley and the cuckoo, or the eponymous epithet about Shropshire folk 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. Perhaps this is the case with the Dawley witch. Regardless, it is worthy of including in alongside the body of Shropshire witch lore.

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 bare, 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. 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 we must speak a little louder to ensure that they can be heard.