A Study in Witch Lore: The Case of Ursula Kemp and the Beliefs of 1582 England
Author’s Note: The content of this blog reflects my personal experiences and perspectives on magic. Witchcraft is a deeply individual practice, and my approach may not align with everyone’s beliefs or traditions. I encourage readers to explore, question, and adapt what resonates with them. Nothing shared here is meant to serve as absolute truth or professional advice. Trust your intuition, do your own research, and walk your own path.
Preface: I would like to make it explicitly clear that I do not, under any circumstances, believe that those accused of witchcraft in the early modern period were truly witches. These individuals were victims of social tension, misogyny, ableism, poverty, and fear; far more reflective of the cultures that condemned them than of any magical practice.
However, I do believe in the value of studying witch trial documents as historical artefacts that provide insight into early modern folklore, belief, and folk custom. These records, though steeped in coercion and injustice, preserve details of popular magic, charms, and spirit lore that can inform our understanding of Traditional Witchcraft, folkloric witchcraft, and contemporary folk magic.
Wherever possible, I prioritise reading primary sources and scholarly analyses in order to understand these ideas in their historical context. When engaging with modern books written by witches for witches, I treat them not as replacements for academic study, but as companions to it, resources that help bridge the gap between historical record and living tradition.
The 1582 witchcraft trial of Ursula Kemp in the village of St Osyth, Essex, offers an enlightening primary source for understanding the beliefs and folklore surrounding the practice of witchcraft in early modern England. It provides a window into not only the theological and social framework of the time, but also the deeply ingrained folk traditions and subtle distinctions that separated the alleged witch from the respected healer. It also lends understanding to the social tensions and communal anxieties that shaped how people interpreted misfortune and interpersonal conflict. Ursula Kemp, a poor midwife and mother, was one of thirteen women accused of witchcraft in a climate of fear and suspicion. The accusations against her reflect widespread folkloric ideas about magical power, spiritual relationships, and supernatural causality; beliefs that, taken together, illuminate how people in the late sixteenth century understood the boundaries between help and harm, magic for good and magic for malice.
Healing and “Unwitching”: The Role of the Cunning Woman
Ursula Kemp’s troubles began not with an act of harm, but with an admission of healing. Her neighbour, Grace Thurlowe, with whom she shared a tense relationship, privately accused her of bewitchment during a falling out. In the course of this dispute, Ursula admitted that she could “unwitch” someone—but not “witch” them[1]. This statement, far from an admission of malice, appears to align Kemp with the long-standing tradition of cunning folk—healers, charmers, and wise people who offered magical services for ailments, protection, and misfortunes believed to be caused by witches.
Kemp disclosed that she had learnt a charm for curing bewitchment from a known cunning person, and offered to pass it along to her neighbour in exchange for payment in money or in cheese. The use of charms to protect against or to combat the magical harassment of witches was typical for folk practitioners in early modern England, and this kind of “low magic” was often tolerated unless suspicion of malevolent intent crept in. Kemp’s admission, however, seemed enough to open the door for further accusations. Her role as a cantankerous woman with some magical knowledge, especially in a position of economic precarity, blurred the line between healer and witch in the minds of her neighbours and the courts.
Familiar Spirits and the Embodiment of Revenge
One of the most damning accusations against Ursula Kemp was her alleged use of familiar spirits—spiritual creatures believed to be imps or demons in animal form who served witches by enacting their will[2]. According to the testimony of her eight-year-old son, Kemp was said to have had four such familiars, each appearing as a small domestic creature: a grey cat, a black toad, a white lamb, and a black rabbit. These animals are not random choices; they reflect the common belief that witches’ familiars disguised themselves as ordinary animals to avoid suspicion. Each familiar was assigned specific tasks, most often to punish those who had angered or insulted Kemp, especially former clients or neighbours who had refused her help or payment.
Kemp was also alleged to have contained her spirits in a pot to allow her or others to carry them about. The idea of containing spirits in a vessel echoes broader European magical traditions, where bottles, jars, and other containers served as homes for spirits, spells, or curses. This detail speaks to the blending of existing folklore and Christian demonology in English witch trials: spirits could be familiars, pets, imps, or demons depending on the observer's worldview, and they could be controlled by tools or rites that had long existed in folk magic.
Offerings, Blood, and Night-Time Communion
Kemp’s son, Thomas Rabbet, further testified that his mother fed her spirits beer, mead, milk, butter, bread, and cake[3]—and that she gave them drops of her own blood as offerings[4]. He also claimed that she communed with the spirits at night, reinforcing the idea of the witch as a nocturnal, secretive figure who consorted with dark powers.
These allegations drew from deep wells of folkloric and religious imagery. The act of feeding spirits—especially with sweet foods or blood—was consistent with pre-Christian and folk traditions of spirit work, while the idea of nocturnal communion played into the demonological narrative of the witches’ sabbath. Blood offerings, in particular, were seen as symbolic of a pact with the devil, where the witch fed her familiars from her own body as a sign of loyalty and submission. That these claims came from a young child, likely under pressure, reflects how the desire for narrative coherence often outweighed concern for reliability or consent.
Confession, Coercion, and Social Context
Despite the elaborate testimony and the apparent richness of detail, Ursula Kemp's confessions were dubious at best. She did not confess under formal interrogation but only after she had already been condemned and imprisoned based on the statements of neighbours and son. Her “confessions” were reported by intermediaries, not taken directly, and were read back to her later. The primary “investigator”, Brian Darcy, was often not present when they were recorded. Moreover, Kemp promised leniency if she confessed—a promise that was never kept despite the records stating that, at this promise, the tearfully fell to her knees and confessed.
This pattern of coercion and manipulation was typical of many witch trials of the period. Accused witches were often poor, marginalised women whose ability to defend themselves legally or socially was limited. Kemp’s trial reveals much about how accusations could be manufactured, testimonies shaped, and confessions extracted in ways that served communal or judicial interests more than truth or justice. Her status as a midwife and single mother further placed her at risk: midwives were frequently suspected of secret knowledge, especially when childbirths ended in tragedy.
Conclusion: Lore, Power, and the Making of a Witch
Although a rich source of early witch lore, the case of Ursula Kemp is a tragic example of how stigma, fear, and community tensions converged in early modern witch trials. Her knowledge of a single cunning charm and her work as a healer made her a target. Her poverty made her vulnerable. Her contentious relationships with neighbours made her suspect. Her son's likely coerced testimony and her own manufactured confession gave the appearance of legitimacy to beliefs already deeply held.
What the accusations against her reveal is a worldview in which misfortune was not random but caused; where relationships with spirits were not signs of spiritual practice but of diabolical allegiance; and where women who stepped beyond the narrowly defined roles of pious wife and loving mother could be accused of wielding dark, unnatural power. The folkloric details—familiars, offerings, pots, charms—reflect a complex spiritual landscape that blended folk practice, Puritanical belief, and social control.
Ursula Kemp was no witch. She was a midwife, a mother, a tempestuous woman struggling to survive. Yet her case remains one of the most illustrative witch trials of sixteenth-century England; not because it proves the existence of witches, but because it reveals the shape and power of belief.
[1] This, in an of itself, does not appear to be an admission to witchcraft. However, Thurlowe states that after she promise the payment of twelve pence to Kemp for the “unwitching” the ailments associated with bewitchment alleviated, only to return when Thurlowe later refused to give the promised payment or to supply Kemp with cheese as an alternative. This interaction alone does seem to lend itself to the idea that Kemp had some degree of cunning and her capacity as a midwife and nurse may have given her the status of a healer, had she not such a difficult relationship with her peers and neighbors.
[2] Familiarity with spirits and communion with spirits being some of the only specific details provided by the Bible as to what made a person a witch (as opposed to some other, more acceptable type of magical practitioner), this was often the defining trait of a witch in trials. There was, of course, no way to prove that an alleged witch did not associated with familiar spirits; therefore it was an accusation against which accused witches were helpless to defend themselves.
[3] Feeding, paying and rewarding one’s familiars are often mentioned in historical documents. Such witch lore lends itself to the modern practice of giving offerings when making a request of one’s familiar spirits, or when the work of a familiar has been completed.
[4] Giving drops of blood to a familiar could be indicative of strengthening the bond between then, giving them small amounts of the witch’s power, or allowing them to replenish their energy through the consumption of blood.
