This is probably one of the best-known of Derbyshire tales and, most interestingly, it is an account of events that - allegedly - actually happened. Even if they did not and the evidence is somewhat scanty, it certainly reflects the culture and fears of the period.
That said, it is important, though, to take into account the religious and political backdrop upon which the events of this story took place. The story takes place in 1608, during the reign of King James I. It is not unfair to say that James I was highly paranoid about witches, demons and all the supposed works of the Devil. During his reign, at least 1,000 alleged witches were executed by hanging and, less commonly, by beheading or being burned at the stake. The King himself had earlier written a book, Daemonologie, in 1597, in which he gave detailed instructions on how to recognise witches and how to deal with them. During this period of time, Britain and Europe were gripped by what became known as the ‘witch craze’, which occurred during the 16th to 17th centuries and gave rise to the infamous witch hunts of the period. The overwhelming majority of the convicted witches were poor, often old, harmless women, who lived alone. The accusations levelled against these individuals appear to have been fueled by resentment, revenge and, commonly, the need for a scapegoat, as well as healthy doses of religious paranoia.
There are two variants of this story; the first appears to put more emphasis on the ‘truth’ of the traveller’s story, whilst the second portrays him as nothing more than a devious and thieving chancer. I have opted for the second, as it is almost certainly a truer or more genuine account. Here then, is my retelling of the tale:
THE BAKEWELL WITCHES
In 1608, during the reign of King James I of England, a Scotsman found himself travelling south through England, in pursuit of gainful employment in London. During his journey, he passed over the famed Peak District, in Derbyshire; a land of rocky tors, high hills and deep dales. This traveller eventually arrived in the happy town of Bakewell, sitting upon the banks of the River Wye and at a junction of local roads. It was market day and the town was busy. The Scotsman’s bones ached and he was in sore need of accommodation and rest from his travels. He proceeded to enquire around the town for suitable board and lodgings. Before long, he was directed to the house of one Mrs Stafford, a well-known milliner of the town, who lived with her sister and also offered board and lodgings to weary travellers.
Upon gaining directions to Mrs Stafford’s house, the Scotsman went directly there. Mrs Stafford warmly welcomed him in and directed him to a cosy chamber, on the first floor of the cottage. After a hot dinner, the Scotsman took his aching bones upstairs, undressed and quickly fell into a deep slumber. He carried on in the same fashion for the next couple of days, until the good Mrs Stafford asked for payment for his board and lodgings. The Scotsman then revealed that he had not enough money to pay her, so she soundly threw him out, keeping some of his clothes, in lieu of his unpaid rent!
By means and wiles unknown, the Scotsman finally made his way successfully to London, albeit in a much poorer and more bedraggled state than when he set out. Clearly, as he had made his way south, his anger at Mrs Stafford had grown and gnawed at his gut, so much so that he plotted and planned, with every weary mile, until he came up with a devious plot to both deliver revenge on the good milliner of Bakewell and reverse his own fortunes.
Upon arriving in London, the Scotsman took himself to a convenient cellar and stripped himself of his clothes, hiding them away to recover later and immediately went to find the nearest watchman. Playacting a poor, confused and terrified innocent, he proceeded to tell the watchman that he had been the victim of witchcraft! Of course, during the reign of James I, everyone believed in witches; seeing them and the Devil in every dark shadow and lurking around every corner. It would seem the watchman was just as fearful of witches and their diabolical sorcery as any other man, so he took the Scotsman immediately before the Justice, to plead his unfortunate case.
Appearing in his sorry state, before the Justice, the Scotsman reeled off the most preposterous story you may ever have heard. He proclaimed that, on the last night of his stay at Mrs Stafford’s, he had been awoken in the early hours of the morning, by a chanting sound from the floor below and by a light shining up between the cracks in the floorboards. In his nightshirt, he had crept onto the bedroom floor and peered down into the room below. There, he spied Mrs Stafford and her sister, in their candlelit parlour, both dressed as if ready to set out on a journey. They chanted a rhyme: “Over thick, over thin, now Devil, to the cellar in London!” In a flash, Mrs Stafford and her sister disappeared! The Scotsman could not believe his eyes. In his confusion, he parroted the witch’s words … almost “Through thick, through thin, now Devil, to the cellar in London!” With a flash and a great gust of wind, he awoke in a cellar, in London, the very cellar from which he had emerged to call the watchmen.
The duplicitous Scotsman then went on to explain that, upon awakening, he found himself in the cellar with the Stafford sisters themselves. They were sorting through a collection of fine fabrics; perfect for making hats. Mrs Stafford turned around and saw the befuddled Scotsman, cowering in the corner of the cellar. “Oh my poor thing” said Mrs Stafford “You look a proper site. Here, have this.” and she passed the man a glass of wine. He drank it straight down and fell into a deep slumber, only waking when the sisters had, once again, vanished, whereupon he sought out the help of the watchman.
Now, as I’ve said, the Scotsman’s story was clearly preposterous to any rational person, but, as I’ve also said, this was the time of King James I, witch hunts and demons lurking around every dark corner! The Justice believed every word of the Scotsman’s story and swore retribution. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live! To Derbyshire, to execute this diabolical pair!” roared the Justice. Upon the Justice’s orders, men were sent to Bakewell, to arrest the Stafford sisters. Sure enough, fine fabrics were found, but what else would a milliner have to make hats with? The Scotsman’s clothes were also found, but, of course, Mrs Stafford had taken them in lieu of unpaid rent. Despite this, all was seen as damning evidence of the Stafford’s witchcraft! Sadly, the Stafford sisters were found guilty of witchcraft and hanged outside Derby Gaol.
THE END
Whilst the literal truth of this story is hard to totally verify, it should be taken as a very real representation of the times people lived in and that’s what folklore tales are meant to do. Religious hysteria and paranoia were rife, and misinformation ran wild, as an ill-educated population was manipulated by those in power - ring any bells?
© Simon Unsworth 2025
That said, it is important, though, to take into account the religious and political backdrop upon which the events of this story took place. The story takes place in 1608, during the reign of King James I. It is not unfair to say that James I was highly paranoid about witches, demons and all the supposed works of the Devil. During his reign, at least 1,000 alleged witches were executed by hanging and, less commonly, by beheading or being burned at the stake. The King himself had earlier written a book, Daemonologie, in 1597, in which he gave detailed instructions on how to recognise witches and how to deal with them. During this period of time, Britain and Europe were gripped by what became known as the ‘witch craze’, which occurred during the 16th to 17th centuries and gave rise to the infamous witch hunts of the period. The overwhelming majority of the convicted witches were poor, often old, harmless women, who lived alone. The accusations levelled against these individuals appear to have been fueled by resentment, revenge and, commonly, the need for a scapegoat, as well as healthy doses of religious paranoia.
There are two variants of this story; the first appears to put more emphasis on the ‘truth’ of the traveller’s story, whilst the second portrays him as nothing more than a devious and thieving chancer. I have opted for the second, as it is almost certainly a truer or more genuine account. Here then, is my retelling of the tale:
THE BAKEWELL WITCHES
In 1608, during the reign of King James I of England, a Scotsman found himself travelling south through England, in pursuit of gainful employment in London. During his journey, he passed over the famed Peak District, in Derbyshire; a land of rocky tors, high hills and deep dales. This traveller eventually arrived in the happy town of Bakewell, sitting upon the banks of the River Wye and at a junction of local roads. It was market day and the town was busy. The Scotsman’s bones ached and he was in sore need of accommodation and rest from his travels. He proceeded to enquire around the town for suitable board and lodgings. Before long, he was directed to the house of one Mrs Stafford, a well-known milliner of the town, who lived with her sister and also offered board and lodgings to weary travellers.
Upon gaining directions to Mrs Stafford’s house, the Scotsman went directly there. Mrs Stafford warmly welcomed him in and directed him to a cosy chamber, on the first floor of the cottage. After a hot dinner, the Scotsman took his aching bones upstairs, undressed and quickly fell into a deep slumber. He carried on in the same fashion for the next couple of days, until the good Mrs Stafford asked for payment for his board and lodgings. The Scotsman then revealed that he had not enough money to pay her, so she soundly threw him out, keeping some of his clothes, in lieu of his unpaid rent!
By means and wiles unknown, the Scotsman finally made his way successfully to London, albeit in a much poorer and more bedraggled state than when he set out. Clearly, as he had made his way south, his anger at Mrs Stafford had grown and gnawed at his gut, so much so that he plotted and planned, with every weary mile, until he came up with a devious plot to both deliver revenge on the good milliner of Bakewell and reverse his own fortunes.
Upon arriving in London, the Scotsman took himself to a convenient cellar and stripped himself of his clothes, hiding them away to recover later and immediately went to find the nearest watchman. Playacting a poor, confused and terrified innocent, he proceeded to tell the watchman that he had been the victim of witchcraft! Of course, during the reign of James I, everyone believed in witches; seeing them and the Devil in every dark shadow and lurking around every corner. It would seem the watchman was just as fearful of witches and their diabolical sorcery as any other man, so he took the Scotsman immediately before the Justice, to plead his unfortunate case.
Appearing in his sorry state, before the Justice, the Scotsman reeled off the most preposterous story you may ever have heard. He proclaimed that, on the last night of his stay at Mrs Stafford’s, he had been awoken in the early hours of the morning, by a chanting sound from the floor below and by a light shining up between the cracks in the floorboards. In his nightshirt, he had crept onto the bedroom floor and peered down into the room below. There, he spied Mrs Stafford and her sister, in their candlelit parlour, both dressed as if ready to set out on a journey. They chanted a rhyme: “Over thick, over thin, now Devil, to the cellar in London!” In a flash, Mrs Stafford and her sister disappeared! The Scotsman could not believe his eyes. In his confusion, he parroted the witch’s words … almost “Through thick, through thin, now Devil, to the cellar in London!” With a flash and a great gust of wind, he awoke in a cellar, in London, the very cellar from which he had emerged to call the watchmen.
The duplicitous Scotsman then went on to explain that, upon awakening, he found himself in the cellar with the Stafford sisters themselves. They were sorting through a collection of fine fabrics; perfect for making hats. Mrs Stafford turned around and saw the befuddled Scotsman, cowering in the corner of the cellar. “Oh my poor thing” said Mrs Stafford “You look a proper site. Here, have this.” and she passed the man a glass of wine. He drank it straight down and fell into a deep slumber, only waking when the sisters had, once again, vanished, whereupon he sought out the help of the watchman.
Now, as I’ve said, the Scotsman’s story was clearly preposterous to any rational person, but, as I’ve also said, this was the time of King James I, witch hunts and demons lurking around every dark corner! The Justice believed every word of the Scotsman’s story and swore retribution. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live! To Derbyshire, to execute this diabolical pair!” roared the Justice. Upon the Justice’s orders, men were sent to Bakewell, to arrest the Stafford sisters. Sure enough, fine fabrics were found, but what else would a milliner have to make hats with? The Scotsman’s clothes were also found, but, of course, Mrs Stafford had taken them in lieu of unpaid rent. Despite this, all was seen as damning evidence of the Stafford’s witchcraft! Sadly, the Stafford sisters were found guilty of witchcraft and hanged outside Derby Gaol.
THE END
Whilst the literal truth of this story is hard to totally verify, it should be taken as a very real representation of the times people lived in and that’s what folklore tales are meant to do. Religious hysteria and paranoia were rife, and misinformation ran wild, as an ill-educated population was manipulated by those in power - ring any bells?
© Simon Unsworth 2025