A People Bewitched: Witchcraft and Magic in Nineteenth-Century Somerset

Introduction

Some readers may think it unusual that a historian should take such a great interest in nineteenth-century witchcraft and magic. The popular image of the last century is one in which, to be sure, many people still believed in witches and fairies, but it was a naive and charming belief that added a bit of glamour and colour to labouring life. The people entertained themselves with tales of old witches and their marvellous and mischievous activities, but they did not take them too seriously, and the whole business was very much concerned with the past. This cosy and quaint perspective has been perpetuated partly by the work of some local folklorists, and partly by the lack of academic interest in the subject. The aim of this book is to show that for many in nineteenth-century Somerset witchcraft was a deadly serious reality, and the resort to magic and magical practitioners an important and widespread activity. Witchcraft was a cause of great anxiety, resulting in death, violence and insanity. There were serious financial consequences too. Farmers were threatened with financial ruin from the supposed activities of witches, and hard earned savings were wasted in attempting to negate the effects of bewitchment. Over the century many thousands of pounds were spent on consulting cunning-folk.

I have written at length elsewhere on the history of witchcraft and magic in England and Wales during the period, but I felt it was necessary to concentrate on one particular region in order to examine in greater detail the nature and influence of witchcraft and magic in society. I chose Somerset not only because I live there at present, but also because exploratory research had indicated that the county, along with a few others like Yorkshire and Devon, had a considerable body of fruitful sources to draw upon. I have stuck to the old county boundary of Somerset as it was over century ago rather than its modern amputated version. This basically means the inclusion of Bath and the lands south of Bristol. But I have not kept strictly within the county boundary, and, when relevant, I have included incidents and information deriving from east Devon and north Dorset - particularly the area around Sherborne. After all, for the people living in the region at the time county boundaries were purely administrative divisions that had little meaning. Physical boundaries, uplands and rivers, were more influential in determining people’s spheres of influence.

Nineteenth-century Somerset was a predominantly agricultural county consisting of 1,630 square miles. It was not one of those counties that was greatly affected by the enclosure movement, either socially or in terms of landscape, and it remained a region of smallholdings. Indeed, even by the early twentieth century only three per cent of the county’s holdings were above 300 acres, while twenty-four per cent were still between one and five acres. Neither did the county experience any profound phase of urbanisation or a population boom. The population rose slowly from around 274,000 in 1801 to 508,000 by the end of the century. The economy was dominated by dairy farming, and much of the land was given over to grazing. The high quality of the cheese and butter produced by Somerset farmers was recognised nationwide. An important companion industry was pig rearing, as waste whey and milk provided a continual supply of cheap pig feed. Large numbers of sheep were also kept, particularly on the uplands of Exmoor and the Mendips. Somerset was, and still is, one of the country’s main cider-making regions, of course, and in the 1890s there was around 25,000 acres of orchards.

Although agriculture was by far the main employer in Somerset, there were also other significant industries. There was the coal-mining district in the north, centred on the area of Radstock, Nettlebridge, and Paulton. In 1869 there were 34 collieries employing over 5,000 people. Around the same time a similar number of people were also engaged in the textile industry. The woollen cloth trade was the most important, followed by silk weaving, and then rope and sailcloth manufacturing. By the middle of the century the biggest employer outside of agriculture was the gloving industry, the main centres of which were Yeovil, Milborne Port, Stoke-sub-Hamdon, and Martock. In 1858 1,156 men and 8,050 women were engaged in glove-making, though many women lost their jobs over the ensuing decades as factory machine-sewing and other changes meant that piece-work done in the home was no longer considered efficient. By 1901, 904 men were still working in the industry but there were only 2,387 women left.

The extent to which the distinctive aspects of the region’s environment and economy shaped the belief in witchcraft and magic is an important question but one that can only really be properly considered once more local studies are conducted in other parts of the country. Was the number of assaults on witches in Somerset high or low by national standards? Were there a lot of cunning-folk in Somerset or an average amount? These are a just a couple of the intriguing questions for which there can be no answer until more historians take up the challenge of investigating the continued influence of witchcraft and magic in nineteenth-century Britain. To reveal what was distinctive about the situation in Somerset comparisons need to be made with popular attitudes towards witchcraft and magic in, say, arable counties like Norfolk, extensive upland regions like Cumbria, and industrial areas like south Lancashire. Such comparative examinations might confirm, for instance, that the dominant dairying economy in Somerset was particularly conducive to the maintenance of witchcraft accusations.

In researching this book I have consulted a wide range of archival material including parish registers, maps, diaries, court records, and directories, but most of my information has derived from three main sources: newspapers, censuses, and the work of folklorists and antiquarians. Considering the importance of these sources to this study it is worth offering some further background information on them, and a brief discussion as to their benefits and shortcomings.

Local newspapers are the most important but under used sources for the study of witchcraft and magic in the modern period. Not only did they record anecdotal incidents concerning magical beliefs and practices days rather than years after they occurred, they also provide us with the only information we have concerning the majority of court cases involving suspected witches, cunning-folk, fortune-tellers and astrologers. A few of these cases were tried before the assizes and quarter sessions, for which depositions had to be taken and the survival of records is pretty good. However, the vast majority of prosecutions were tried before the petty sessions, which were summary courts of justice where depositions were not legally required. Up until the second half of the nineteenth century very few petty sessions records survive, unfortunately, and even after that period the Somerset Record Office holds only a small percentage of the registers and minute books kept by court clerks. The majority of records have been destroyed over the years, while some, perhaps, still lie hidden in solicitors’ offices. In a few instances these records have provided some valuable confirmatory evidence, but due to their very poor survival rate, and also the usually brief nature of their content, the petty sessions prove an extremely frustrating source. Thankfully, though, we can turn to the newspapers instead.

The first Somerset newspaper to appear was The Taunton Journal in 1725. It was produced by William Norris who had set up a printing press in Taunton as early as 1716. It lasted only a few years though, and it was not until the 1740s that two long-running papers, the Bath Journal and the Western Flying Post, were established. Over the next fifty years several more short-lived papers appeared which either folded or were amalgamated with others. It was difficult to establish local newspapers at this period, partly because of practical distribution problems, partly due to the difficulties of attracting enough advertising revenue, and partly due to increasing levels of stamp duty. This tax was condemned as a tax on knowledge and put the price of newspapers beyond the reach of many. On top of this, newspaper proprietors also had to pay tax on each advertisement placed in their publications.

During the first half of the nineteenth century a modest number of new titles rolled off the presses. One of these, which I have used quite extensively in my research, was the Taunton Courier, first published in 1808. Places like Bridgewater, Chard and Weston-super-Mare also had their own papers by 1850. Most significant of all - for this study at least - was the appearance of the Somerset County Herald in 1843. This paper went on to provide the widest coverage of local news in the county. For this reason systematic searching through the Somerset County Herald proved the most rewarding of tasks. However, it did not necessarily provide the most detailed coverage, and for research purposes it has often been necessary to turn to other local papers for more in-depth accounts of relevant cases. This is not always possible for the period before the 1850s. Fortunately, though, during the second half of the century there was a massive increase in the number of newspapers with well over one hundred appearing. This burgeoning was triggered by the repeal of advertisement duty in 1853 and stamp duty in 1855, more efficient printing techniques, and improved communications and distribution brought about by the growth of the railways and the development of the telegraph. Amongst many new titles were the Wells Journal (1851), Langport Herald (1855), Shepton Mallet Journal (1857), Bridgewater Mercury (1857), and Central Somerset Gazette (1861). Some of these papers actually contained rather disappointing coverage of local news. They were run on a shoestring, and could not afford to employ reporters. Their news was largely regurgitated from other papers both local and national. However, one paper of this period, Pulman’s Weekly News, stands out for the quality and breadth of its reporting of local news and petty sessions business. It first appeared in March 1857, and its founder was George Philip Rigney Pulman who ran a printing and bookselling business in Crewkerne. He took considerable interest in local affairs and rural culture, evident not only from the content of his newspaper but also from his own literary efforts such as the Book of the Axe and Rustic Sketches.

Even when court records of a relevant trial do exist, newspapers can often give us a much broader understanding of events. They sometimes reported on the nature of the crowds who came to see the trials for example, how the crowds reacted to what they heard, what interjections were made, and with whom people’s sympathies lay. While quarter sessions and assize records only provide us with witness testimonies, newspapers give us verbatim accounts of the cross-examinations that witnesses were subjected to, which often provide new insights into a case. On a personal level, journalists also often reported on the visual appearance of cunning-folk, astrologers, fortune-tellers, and those accused of witchcraft. This gives us some idea of how other people saw these characters, and allows us to get closer to the individuals we are studying.

Newspaper reports also sometimes included basic personal details about relevant individuals, such as their age and occupational status, but this was by no means always the case, and to build up a greater depth of knowledge concerning the social characteristics of supposed witches and their victims, and cunning-folk and their clients, it is necessary to turn to the censuses. These decennial government surveys of the social characteristics of the population began in 1841. Census enumerators travelled through assigned areas questioning the head of each household about their age, marital status, occupation, and place of birth, and that of other members of the household. However, the censuses are not totally accurate. The same person’s age sometimes alters by a couple of years from one census to another. We have to remember that birthdays did not have the same significance for many working people in the last century as they do now. When people were asked for their age on the spot by a census enumerator it was not always easy for them to calculate it exactly. I could, of course, have worked out people’s age more accurately by consulting the relevant parish registers in every case, but I felt that the time and effort involved in conducting this extra research was not worth the meagre rewards. Besides, baptism registers are not necessarily accurate guides to people’s date of birth either.

Compared with some other counties Somerset is quite well endowed with nineteenth- and early twentieth-century antiquarian books, journals and magazines describing the magical beliefs of the people. As sources these publications provide valuable information about magical practices in general, and also recount some of the numerous local stories and legends concerning witches and cunning-folk that circulated in every village and town. What they usually do not supply, though, is concrete data about the people in these stories. If names are mentioned they are often pseudonyms, nicknames or abbreviations, making it difficult if not impossible to identify them in other sources. There are several accounts, for example, of people going to consult a cunning-man at Chard but his name is never mentioned. It is only from a couple of contemporary newspaper reports that we know his identity. Many of the events in these stories and legends were said to have occurred forty or fifty years before, but considering that it is often impossible to verify them using other sources it is quite likely that some were even older than was thought. Another problem with the Somerset folklore sources is that their geographical coverage is uneven. Most of the relevant books and articles concern western Somerset, particularly the area of Exmoor, and the southern half of the county. In contrast, there are very few folklore sources covering eastern parts of Somerset. This was at least partly because writers were drawn to the more romantic and picturesque aspects of the landscapes in the west and south. One folklorist who did venture into the east was Ruth Tongue. She collected a vast amount of rural lore from people all over Somerset over a period stretching from the first decade of the present century through to the 1950s. Her book, Somerset Folklore, is a particularly valuable source, now available in print once again thanks to the Folklore Society and Llanerch Publishers. However, despite the importance and richness of her work I have not actually referred to it very much. First, because there is little point in repeating what she has already recorded in print, and, second, because I have tried to stick as much as possible to material published during the nineteenth and early twentieth century.

The Witchcraft Act of 1736 may have put an end to the prosecution and hanging of supposed witches (contrary to popular belief, witches in England and Wales were not burnt), but for many people in Somerset witchcraft remained one of the most serious of crimes. Drawing upon all these different sources enables us to appreciate why it was that people continued to feel so strongly about witches, and provides a unique insight into the inner torment and anxiety of both those who were accused of witchcraft, and those who thought themselves bewitched. Finally, it is important to keep in mind that the cases of witchcraft contained in this book only occurred a century ago, not in some distant past. We cannot completely disassociate ourselves from the time when people believed that witches walked the land sowing misfortune and death. Indeed, it is quite likely that the grandchildren of some of those abused and assaulted for being witches are still alive and living in Somerset today.

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Under a spell

The nineteenth century in Britain was deemed to be an era of great progress in all spheres of life. In terms of industry and technology the country led the world. The Great Exhibition of 1851 was a proud showcase of British success and innovation for the rest of the world to admire and envy. Britain could boast of a great empire, and considered itself the most enlightened and civilised nation on earth. By contrast, many of the empire’s colonial subjects were considered to be ignorant, backward, and barbarous even. Moved by the spirit of supposed superiority and condescension, missionaries were sent out to these far-flung corners of the empire to enlighten those who were deemed to be thus benighted. But away from the Houses of Parliament and the mansions of the upper classes, far from the sound of the self-congratulatory back-slapping of the privileged and wealthy, in the back streets of Somerset’s provincial towns, and in the farmyards and insanitary cottages of the countryside, magical beliefs and practices continued in a fashion not far removed from those held by other members of the empire who were treated as uncivilised savages.

For those who took little interest in the lives of Somerset’s lower classes, and so had little understanding of their mentalities and concerns, the realisation that witchcraft and magic was still strongly believed in came as something of a nasty shock. Ignorance of the situation was widespread. Even magistrates, who had closer contact with the lives of the labouring classes than many of their peers, were amazed to find that people still felt threatened by witches and resorted to magic and practitioners of magic. In 1852, for instance, the Chard magistrates expressed their sorrow that in this age persons could be found entertaining such old-world notions. Two decades later, magistrates presiding over a case of assault against a witch opined that they should not have though any person in the world would be so foolish as to believe these things.¹

It was generally assumed that the growing prosperity of the nation, better educational provision, and the spread of religion had vanquished the popular belief in witchcraft and magic from all but a few remote and backward corners of the country. In Somerset much confidence had been invested in the influence of Hannah More’s evangelical educational achievements. More, who died in 1833, was one of the most respected blue-stockings of her time. She was born in Gloucestershire, became a teacher in Bristol, and subsequently spent some years in London. In 1784 she moved to Cowslip Green near Wrington, in northern Somerset, and set up numerous schools in and around the Mendips to educate and instil children with Christian values. Her schools were undoubtedly successful in that by 1800 they were teaching as many as 3000 pupils, but More had rather restrictive ideas about popular education. Pupils were taught how to read and count but not write. She had no wish to foster an independent minded work force. Her stated aim was to reform the lower class to habits of industry and virtue. More also sought to reform the popular mind through the production and dissemination of large numbers of cheap moralising tales for popular consumption, a number of which were set in Somerset. Tawney Rachel, for example, concerned the nefarious activities of a fortune-teller of the same name. At the end of the tale Rachel is justly punished for her practices. She is at first sent to Taunton gaol and then transported to Botany Bay - and a happy day it was for the county of Somerset, when such a nuisance was sent out of it.

Elsewhere in the county the number of schools was also increasing. The schoolmaster is abroad was the confident cry. By 1818 there were already 487 day schools, 253 Sunday schools, and 109 endowed schools in existence. But it was one thing to improve access to schooling and another to ensure that children attended. Absenteeism was still widespread at the end of the century, despite legislation that had made it compulsory for children to attend school until the age of ten and thereafter to fourteen unless officially exempted. As a result many parents found themselves fined before the petty sessions for their children’s non-attendance. The dictates of life at the time meant that parents often preferred their children to be out earning a few shillings or aiding them in their labours rather than gaining an education.

So entrenched was the rather naive confidence in the programme of education and popular enlightenment, that despite plenty of proof to the contrary, the same shocked statements of surprise concerning the inefficacy of education and religion continued to be expressed over and over again throughout the century. Each published example of the continued belief in witchcraft and magic raised an astonished exclamation and a sorry shake of the head. In 1811 the editor of the Taunton Courier observed sadly that the influence arising from the increased wealth and proportionate improvement of the intellectual character of this county has not been of sufficient power to dissipate the fogs of superstitious ignorance. Over fifty years later, the Somerset County Herald expressed its dismay that the fogs persisted notwithstanding the spread of education and religion, and the general increase of intelligence. Not long after, the same newspaper was surprised to find that the belief in witchcraft and cunning-folk was as rife as ever in the area of Langport, despite the increase of schools and the multiplication of teachers of religion. Moving on another thirty years, the belief in witchcraft was still widespread, and the middle-classes still could not quite comprehend why. A Somerset correspondent to The Spectator found it especially sad that not only the old people, but also the young ones who have been to a Board-School, still hold to these wretched legacies of unnumbered generations. I fear if a company of strolling players were to act Macbeth in the village school-room, a large number of the audience would look upon the witches in it as anything but symbolical.² What the authors of such comments failed to realise was that elementary education did not necessarily engender rational thought. It was a certain way of life and standard of living rather than ignorance and illiteracy that supported popular magical beliefs.

Bound by the supernatural

For the majority of working people in Somerset, whether they were labourers, farmers, craftsmen, glovers, miners, weavers,