Jane Austen's England

by Roy Adkins,Lesley Adkins

  Belief in witches was ridiculed by the more educated, but after explaining how witchcraft was nonsense, Grose did give some precautionary advice:

  Some hair, the parings of the nails, and urine, of any person bewitched – or as the term is, labouring under an evil tongue – being put into a stone bottle, with crooked nails, corked close and tied down with wire, and hung up the chimney, will cause the Witch to suffer the most acute torments imaginable, till the bottle is uncorked and the mixture dispersed; insomuch that they will even risk a detection, by coming to the house, and attempting to pull down the bottle.77

  Such ‘witch bottles’ were also bricked up in walls of houses or placed under the hearth or eaves. They have occasionally been discovered while renovating old buildings, such as one dating to the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century found beneath the hearth of Clapper Farm at Staplehurst in Kent.78 Witches were widely feared, particularly in rural areas, and when meeting a suspected witch, Grose suggested: ‘it is advisable to take the wall [side] of her in a town or street, and the right hand of her in a lane or field; and, whilst passing her, to clench both hands, doubling the thumbs beneath the fingers; this will prevent her having a power to injure the person so doing at that time. It is well to salute a Witch with civil words, on meeting her, before she speaks.’79

  The law generally regarded anyone claiming to be a witch as a charlatan, but they could be prosecuted for fraud or for any specific crime that had been committed, as was the case with Mary Bateman. She had made a good living in Leeds as a fortune teller for over twenty years, but was found guilty of poisoning a client, Rebecca Perigo. Having been tried and found guilty at York, she was executed there in March 1809, aged forty-one. Part of the sentence was for her body to be dissected, but such was the notoriety of the case that the corpse was publicly displayed first. Afterwards, it was sent to Leeds: ‘when the cart with her body approached the town, it was met by a number of people. The following day it was exhibited in the Surgeons’ Room at the Infirmary, at three-pence each person, and an immense number of people were admitted, some of whom evinced predominant superstition by touching the body before they left the room, to prevent her terrific [terrifying] interference with their nocturnal dreams.’80 The dissection of the body was a public affair, and the local newspaper reported that ‘Mr. Hey [the surgeon] is now delivering a course of twelve lectures on the body, for the benefit of the institution, and has diffused much edifying information to a crowded auditory.’81 The remains of her skeleton are now displayed at the Thackray Museum in Leeds.82

  Although witches were popularly regarded as malign, another kind of magic practitioner, the ‘cunning man’ or ‘wise woman’, was considered benevolent. They were approached for cures for illness in people or animals, or for resolving problems such as lost or stolen property. Very often their success was achieved by being skilled herbalists or through the suggestibility of clients. James Murrell worked with a chemist in London, but moved to Hadleigh in Essex around 1810 and carried on a dual trade of shoemaker and cunning man. It was said that he ‘pretended to have the power of counteracting the designs of witches, discovering thieves, and where stolen property was secreted. He was a herbalist, and administered potions and drugs.’83 On his death in 1860 numerous letters relating to his occult business were destroyed, but it was later said that ‘enough remain to prove that an amount of ignorance, credulity, and superstition exists, which appears incredible’.84

  Other ways of making money from superstition and foretelling the future included almanacs (or ‘almanacks’) that carried astrological predictions. Originally, almanacs were compiled by astrologers who were often practising astrological physicians, but with the development of science, astrology had fallen out of favour. From the early eighteenth century onwards almanacs provided more information and entertainment than astrological predictions. Of those still carrying predictions, the most popular was Old Moore’s Almanack, first produced by the astrologer Francis Moore in 1699 under the title Vox Stellarum (‘voice of the stars’). Moore’s Vox Stellarum for 1803 contained optimistic prophecies, such as that for April: ‘It now looks as if the Genius of the British Nation would triumph over all its adverse Fortune. Some eminent and weighty Affairs are now transacted, and brought to a final Determination, for the good of the Public and Increase of Trade.’85 Other prophecies are almost too convoluted to understand, such as one for June: ‘Heavens defend the English Nation from future War, and visible Actions and Commotions, and may London be as insensible of Sickness, Piratical Damages, and sudden Insurrections, as she is insensible of a Lunar Eclipse happening in her Horizon this Year.’86

  Almanacs of all kinds were popular on account of their range of information, since they focused on astronomical rather than astrological events, including dates and times of eclipses, tide tables and, crucially, dates of the phases of the moon and the times when the moon would rise and set each day. Moonlight was so important for night-time travelling that this feature alone sold countless copies, and many evolved into local pocket books or diaries. Almanacs also contained calendars marked with Christian festivals and holy days.

  Although Christmas was observed, it was not the major holiday that it is today. Houses were decorated with greenery, usually holly or laurel. ‘This being Christmas Eve,’ noted Woodforde in 1791, ‘had my windows as usual ornamented with small branches of Hulver (alias Holley) properly seeded [with berries].’87 Christmas Day was marked by a church service and then a dinner with plum pudding and mince pies. The custom of giving servants and tradesmen small gifts of money – ‘Christmas boxes’ – was growing, but most other rituals that we now associate with Christmas were imported in the later nineteenth century from America and the Continent. New Year was more often the time for celebration and the exchange of gifts, and many still clung to the Old Christmas Day of 6 January (from where the calendar was changed in 1752, causing eleven days to be lost).88 On one occasion, Holland grumbled: ‘The Clerk was here today carrying out dung tho not yesterday it being old Christmas day as he calls it and therefore a holiday; that is after he had kept a week of holidays for new Christmas day.’89

  Traditional customs associated with particular days of the year were often excuses for the poor, especially children, to go begging. On 14 February 1788 Woodforde gave away thirty-seven pennies: ‘This being Valentines Day, I had a good many children of my parish called on me, to each of whom, gave (as usual) one penny, in all 0.3.1.’90 It was customary for children to ‘earn’ their money by reciting a verse that started with words like ‘Morrow, Morrow, Valentine’ or ‘Good Morrow Valentine’, and Woodforde usually made his young visitors recite at least the first line.

  Easter was a festival frequently associated with more traditions than Christmas, though these varied from place to place. In April 1789 the New Exeter Journal was struck by events further north:

  It is still the custom in the North of England, at this season of Easter, to present paste (or pasche) eggs to young women; they are covered with gold leaf, and stained. This is a relic of antient superstition, an egg being in former times considered as a type of our Saviour’s resurrection. Chandler, in his account of Asia Minor says, ‘They presented us with coloured eggs at Easter.’ Originally women used to beat their husbands on Easter-Tuesday; and on the Wednesday following the husbands beat their wives. Of the great number of customs and ceremonies which prevailed in times of old, very few now remain.91

  This notion of old ceremonies fast disappearing was probably overstated, though a decline in observing rituals was partly due to changes in working practices. Someone working shifts in a factory was much less able to celebrate the old customs than someone doing piecework at home.

  Other more practical traditions also declined, such as the perambulation of the parish boundaries – usually called ‘beating the boundaries’ (or ‘bounds’). The purpose of this ancient custom was to mark the boundaries each year, because few maps existed and there were few indications of the posi
tion of boundaries in the open landscapes. However, enclosures by private Act of Parliament – Enclosure (or Inclosure) Acts – increasingly divided the countryside into small units bounded by hedges, walls and fences. From 1750 such enclosures affected around a quarter of the total area of England and Wales.92 Because some of these new field boundaries followed the parish boundaries, the practical need for beating the bounds was disappearing.

  Wherever the custom continued, it usually took place in Rogation Week, and the rituals involved beating boundary stones and other markers with sticks, which were often carried by young boys to ensure that the boundaries were learned by the younger generation. At Ripon in Yorkshire, the Gentleman’s Magazine mentioned, ‘the day before Holy Thursday [Ascension Day], all the clergy, attended by the singing men and boys of the choir, perambulate the town in their canonicals, singing hymns; and the blue-coat charity boys follow, singing, with green boughs in their hands’.93 On Wednesday 3 May 1780, which was also the day before Ascension Day, Woodforde recorded the more down-to-earth ceremonies in his Norfolk parish of Weston Longville:

  About ½ past nine o’clock this morning my Squire called on me, and I took my mare and went with him to the Hart [inn] just by the Church where most of the parish were assembled to go the bounds of the parish, and at 10 we all set of[f] for the same about 30 in number. Went towards Ringland first, then to the breaks near Mr. Townsends clumps, from thence to Attertons on France Green, where the people had some liquor, and which I paid, being usual for the Rector – 0.4.6.94

  Farmers along the route often provided sustenance, but on this occasion Woodforde was responsible.

  The procession then continued: ‘From France Green we went away to Mr. Dades, from thence towards Risings, from thence down to Mr. Gallands, then to the old Hall of my Squire’s, thence to the old Bridge at Lenewade, then close to the River till we came near Morton, then by Mr. Le Grisse’s Clumps, then by Bakers and so back till we came to the place where we first set off.’95 The complete circuit of the parish was quite a journey: ‘Our bounds are supposed to be about 12 miles round. We were going of them full 5 hours. We set of[f] at 10 in the morning and got back a little after 3 in the afternoon…Where there was no tree to mark, holes were made and stones cast in.’96

  Some old customs could be seen in the church itself. When an unmarried woman died, a garland of flowers, usually called a ‘maiden garland’, might accompany the coffin. After the funeral it was hung up in the church above the seat she had used. This ritual was disappearing towards the close of the eighteenth century. In June 1790 John Byng, who was conscious of such fading traditions, noted it in the church of St John the Baptist at Tideswell in Derbyshire:

  After dinner, I enter’d the church, which, without, is beautiful; (quite a model); and within, of excellent architecture: it has at one corner, a noble stone pulpit, now disused, and there are two fine old tombs, (one of the Meverils,) and several figures in stone; but the chancel, belonging to the deanery of Litchfield, is in disgraceful waste; and the church wants new benching, most grievously. They here continue to hang up maiden garlands, which, however laudable, as of tendency to virtue, will soon be laugh’d out of practice.’97

  His melancholy thoughts led him to predict a dismal future: ‘and as I now visit decay’d monasteries, so will my grandchildren…view the ruins of churches, when they and religion altogether shall be o’erthrown’.98

  SEVEN

  WEALTH AND WORK

  ‘I am afraid,’ replied Elinor, ‘that the pleasantness of an employment does not always evince its propriety.’

  Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Austen

  Most people needed to work for a living – from clergymen, merchants and lawyers down to the lowliest labourers and servants. The professional classes were almost exclusively male, but amongst the working class countless women and children toiled equally long hours alongside the men. By contrast Sir John and Lady Middleton in Sense and Sensibility lead somewhat empty lives: ‘Sir John was a sportsman, Lady Middleton a mother. He hunted and shot, and she humoured her children; and these were their only resources. Lady Middleton had the advantage of being able to spoil her children, while Sir John’s independent employments were in existence only half the time.’ The fictional Middletons represented the tiny minority who controlled the bulk of the wealth and disdained those in trade.

  While the basic inequalities of the class system were tolerated, the necessity to finance the wars and the royal family through taxation caused resentment. The lower and middle classes struggled with increased taxes and prices, and at the same time the wages of manual workers were frequently being reduced. The tax burden fell disproportionately on the lower ranks, widening the gulf between rich and poor. The idea that the Government should be more equitable was expressed in 1795 by William Jenkin, a Quaker:

  I fear some of those great folks look more to their great salaries, Pensions and Synecures than to the real good of the state. If they wish to convince the public that the latter is their chief concern let them in these perilous times make a voluntary sacrifice of a part of their enormous income to the public good; or at least by acts of benevolence lighten the burdens of the lower orders of the people, many of whom now groan under the pressure of the high price of most of the necessaries of life.1

  In his memoirs William Darter voiced a similar opinion: ‘I have related these events, of which I have perfect recollection, to shew the straits to which the country was driven at this time. Everything almost was taxed, even light and air.’2

  Although the Reverend James Woodforde was a loyal supporter of George III, in December 1797 his irritation surfaced:

  Great uneasiness in almost every part of the Kingdom respecting the new taxes to be raised for the next year. London very much against them and will not pay them. The times at present are…very alarming. The King going in State next week, to St. Pauls, to return thanks to Almighty God, for the late signal victories, is much talked of, with regard to the great expence to the Nation must be put to. It is certainly a very good intention of his Majesty but he should come forward in it, by advancing money to pay the expences of the same out of his own purse, he being so exceedingly rich and at so critical a time.3

  On top of more and more taxes, an income tax was introduced in 1799, which was particularly resented by the middle and upper classes. A few years later William Holland complained because deductions were made from the dividend on his shares for Maidenhead Bridge across the River Thames: ‘We cannot have our dividends from Maidenhead Bridge this fortnight on account of the Income Tax. This is rather hard to detain 25 pound because thirty shillings are demanded by government.’4

  The idle rich were truly idle, as epitomised by Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility. He is in line to inherit a fortune, but Mrs Dashwood suggests adopting a profession to fill his time. ‘I do assure you’, he replies,

  that I have long thought on this point…But unfortunately my own nicety, and the nicety of my friends, have made me what I am, an idle, helpless being. We never could agree in our choice of profession. I always preferred the church, as I still do. But that was not smart enough for my family. They recommended the army. That was a great deal too smart for me. The law was allowed to be genteel enough…But I had no inclination for the law…As for the navy, it had fashion in its side, but I was too old when the subject was first started to enter it – and, at length, as there was no necessity for my having any profession at all…I was therefore entered at Oxford and have been properly idle since then.

  In his travels round England, the American scientist Benjamin Silliman, a young man who was actively immersed in research and education, was dismayed by such empty lives: ‘Bath…is probably the most dissipated place in the kingdom. It is resorted to by many real invalids, but by far the greater number belong to that class who wear away life in a round of fashionable frivolities, without moral aim or intellectual dignity.’5

  Wealth might be tied up in property, land and other investme
nts, but cash was hoarded at home or deposited in banks. ‘Very busy in settling Bathursts accounts,’ Woodforde noted in mid-November 1782, ‘as I intend going to Norwich on Monday next on his account.’6 The clergyman Henry Bathurst held the livings of nearby Great and Little Witchingham, but his friend Woodforde collected the tithes for him because he was non-resident. Three days later Woodforde went to Norwich, calling at ‘Kerrisons Bank and changed 100 pounds in cash for a note of the same value and sent it to Dr Bathurst and put the letter myself into the Post-Office’.7 This local bank failed in 1808 with substantial debts, as did many others over the years – including the bank of Jane Austen’s brother Henry.8

  Banking was in a state of flux, and innumerable country banks were set up to meet local needs. Other businesses also conducted banking, such as a silversmiths at Oxford where Woodforde changed money in 1793: ‘Called on my friend Locke the silversmith this morning who behaved very obligingly and knew me at first sight. I changed a ten pound note with him, he keeps a bank and does great business.’9 Banknotes were technically redeemable only at the issuing banks – standardised banknotes that were legal tender, accepted by all banks, would not be fully established until 1833.

  The monetary system was based on gold and silver. Twenty shillings (20s.) were worth one pound sterling (£1 or 1l.), and twelve pennies (12d.) equalled one shilling. There were no one-pound coins. The guinea (worth £1 and 1 shilling, or 21 shillings, abbreviated to £1 1s.) was a gold coin, and other gold coins included a five guinea (£5 5s.), half a guinea (10s. 6d.), quarter of a guinea (5s. 3d.) and one-third of a guinea (7s.). Silver coins included one crown (5s.), half-a-crown (2s. 6d.), one shilling (1s.), sixpence (6d.), fourpence (4d.), twopence (2d.) and some earlier pennies. As the coinage devalued over time, pennies were instead minted of copper alloy, as were the halfpenny (½d.) and farthing (¼d.).10