This is a work of pure historical fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Especially, as their descendants own half of Dorset and have been known to sue people.
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Wiltshire is not Dorset. Never was, never will be. Nobody in Wiltshire can see the sea. No cliffs, no seashore, no foaming waves. No sailing ships. Because of this I'm sure that they don't eat sea fish. The only fish they eat must be river fish.
Now, I am a wise woman. My mother was too. Her.............you get the picture.
I'm not a witch. Never was, never will be. My mother...........I'm sure you understand.
Despite all this, my grandmother often knew things before they happened. Come to think of it, my cousin was a little strange too. But that could be because she fell out of a tree when she was six.
In this year of 1752 I can safely say these things. In the past there has been a very fine line between wiseness and witchness. Get caught on the wrong side and your bacon would be cooked. I can't quite believe that I said that.
When rich people get sick they can employ a physician. He will visit you in your home. He will take your blood and then he will take your money. He will give you no assurance that you will get better. None.
Poor country folk visit the village wise woman. She will use her knowledge of herbs and minerals to make a potion for you. She will give you no assurance that you will get better. None.
Some also use charms and spells. They offer less chance of healing than the herbs, other than the fact that if you think that you are going to get better you are more likely to get better than if you don't think you will get better.
I never use charms and spells. I never have and so forth.
It was the spells and charms that scorched so many women.
The biggest difference between physicians and wise women is that a wise woman won't charge you too much. Just whatever you can spare; a few eggs, a hen or a bag of apples.
Having said all this, I believe that I do good. For a wide range of minor ailments there are things that I can do. If you have cholera, smallpox or typhus the best I can do for you is to make your passing more comfortable.
Poor people who live in towns and cities have no use for wise women. They have gin.
For a country practitioner the bulk of her trade is to do with pregnancy matters. Getting pregnant, not getting pregnant, the ills of being with child and the recovery from childbirth.
In this village it is mainly about getting pregnant. Wives want to be with child. It is rare for a woman to have more than one child, two is almost unheard of.
It's different for me. I'm married to the village blacksmith, Hugh.
I can never forget the day I first saw him walking down the lane that runs through the village. His gert bag of tools slung over his shoulder.
A huge man, a strong man, a rugged man, handsome, dark haired and beautiful.
I loved him in that instant. I love him still.
When I asked him where he was walking to. And he said, "The American Colonies."
"What, all the way?" I said.
He smiled. The smile of an angel on that rugged face.
He would stop when he got to the sea and then find a ship that was going west, he explained.
I never even knew that people wanted to go to The Colonies. I knew that if you committed a crime that you could be sent there to work for the people who lived there. I think that they are called Indians.
Hugh told me that there were settlers there who built homes and farms. I thought that the Indians must be wonderful people to give these settlers some of their land.
I gave him some of the clear clean water from the village well. He drank it straight down and declared it far better than the water in his native Salisbury which is way up north in Wiltshire.
When I said that I had added a little herbal tincture to it, he asked for a second cup.
From that moment he was mine.
I think that Hugh has one philosophy in life: 'Don't say a single word more than you need to'. But, with the right questions I managed to find out that he was leaving Wiltshire because there are too many blacksmiths and too little work.
I asked him if he was sad to leave his home. I know that I would be.
He was. His father had been a smith there and so had his grandfather. His forebears had owned the forge and cottage when Jesus had stayed there overnight on his way to Glastonbury.
I asked him if he thought that it was true that Our Lord had visited England.
Hugh said that it must be as any man would want to see where his father had been born. And it is a well known fact that God is an Englishman.
Our village had a forge but no blacksmith. Hugh walked no further.
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In the first three years of marriage we had three children. A son and two daughters.
Alfred is now coming to the end of his time with a blacksmith in Dorchester. I wanted him to serve his apprenticeship here but Hugh said that he would learn nothing from a loving father who praised him too easily and did not chastise him enough when he made mistakes.
The girls are learning with me. They now go out each morning and forage the woods and hedgerows for berries and roots. They spend the afternoons tending the herb garden or making up potions.
As you may imagine my services as a wise woman, in an area where children are rare, were always in demand.
Women came from all around to take the same herbal potions that I took.
Hugh thought it was superstitious rubbish. He knew it was because he would never eat sea fish, only river fish. The men around here ate both.
I knew many remedies for having babies but had never needed any for not having them. Loving with my Hugh was wonderful but I didn't think that I wanted a child every year for the rest of my life.
My mother was unsure what to do too.
We walked eight miles to speak with another wise woman. She was very old.
She said, "You must always do it standing up with your man standing behind you. When he feels his seed is approaching he should jump backwards and you should jump forwards."
As well as this advice she gave me a list of herbs which I should mix in vinegar and water and wash my parts out with afterwards
After a further twenty years of marriage we now have five offspring. So you could say that it worked.
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It didn't take me long to realise that the reason for my ability to bear children came solely from the fact that my husband wasn't from around here. I am not sure if which fish he ate had made any difference.
My inner sense told me which of my customers was desperate to have a child. It also alerted me to who would consider desperate measures and who would not.
Newly wedded woman had time on their side. Those who had been married longer did not.
Biddy Charles was one such. She had married Crabby Charles ten years ago and was now in her thirtieth year. We spoke long and hard one afternoon.
"It doesn't seem right, Maddy, so many women wish and pray and long for a baby but you have produced five," said Biddy.
"Ah, perhaps you are right but we don't always get the choice." I said.
"Could you not just sell me one of yours?"
"Biddy!" I scolded.
"Sorry, sorry but I am forlorn. My husband is a strong working man just like yours. I love him and he loves me at every chance. If you catch my drift," she said, mournfully.
