The dark, deep roots of Britain's fascination with witchcraftAs the cinema queues form again for our seasonal dose of hobbits, wizards, and strangely aggressive dwarves, there seems to be a big question hanging in the air - larger even than whether the intrepid hairballs will reach the next unpronounceable town.
It is this. What does our fascination with watching them yomp to-and-fro across Middle-earth tell us about Britain's beliefs today? More precisely, what does it reveal about our attitude to magic and the supernatural?
To put the question in context, in 1937 J R R Tolkien published his neo-medieval epic, The Hobbit or There and Back Again.
Its magic-fuelled adventure was an instant hit.
Yet in 1944, only seven years later, juries at London's austere Old Bailey were still gamely convicting women under the ancient Witchcraft Act 1735.
Moving ahead six years, in 1950 Tolkien's friend and fellow don C S Lewis enchanted the public with his witchy goings on in Narnia. Hot on its heels, in 1954 Tolkein unleashed the great Lord of the Rings trilogy, which was instantly acclaimed by a loyal and expectant readership.
So how did the same public coo with delight at Gandalf's nonchalant command of the magical realm, yet look on with equanimity as Helen Duncan and 72-year-old Jane Yorke were subjected to full criminal trials for talking to spirits? The same readers of Tolkein and Lewis watched as both women were convicted by jury, fined in the case of Yorke, and carted off to Holloway Prison in the case of Duncan.
Fortunately, the offence was no longer capital, and there was never any question of hanging - although it would be another 11 years before the gallows trap was finally shut in Britain. The honour of being the last witch to be burned in the British Isles went to Janet Horne in Scotland, who was sent to the stake in 1727 for riding her daughter to the Devil, where he shod her. At least, as far as the presiding sheriff was concerned, this seemed the only explanation for her unfortunate daughter's deformed hands and feet.
So how, in Blitz-scarred London, were two women found guilty under witchcraft legislation at a time when Tolkien and Lewis were stamping out wizards and witches by the kilo?
Whoever reads the (refreshingly) short Witchcraft Act 1735 quickly finds that it is tragically misnamed. It should really be called the Abolition of the Idea of Witchcraft Act.
The previous Witchcraft Acts had been built on the unshakable certainty that witches - who wantonly consorted with foul demons and undermined upstanding members of society - needed to be put to death.
http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/news/dominicselwood/100252072/the-dark-deep-roots-of-britains-fascination-with-witchcraft/ 