From Witches to Riches - a Story of Immorality

by Anna Belfrage

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Sometime around 1620, a boy was born in Suffolk, England, to a Puritan clergyman called John Hopkins. The little boy was named Matthew, had a number of older siblings and that’s about everything we know about this young man’s childhood. One must assume he had dreams of his future (even if his mother most definitely did not warble “Qué será,será” while smoothing his hair down) and there must have been days when he worried that future of his would be very short and stunted, what with the increasing tensions between King and Parliament.

Whatever the case, the first time Matthew Hopkins steps out of the sea of anonymity to properly greet us is in 1645, when he proudly introduces himself as a Witch-finder. A what? Yup, you heard the young man: he’s making a living finding witches.

To understand his choice of profession, one needs certain context: England at the time was in the throes of Civil War, Puritan factions instilled a rampaging fear of evil, and to further add spice to this particular soup, it wasn’t all that long ago since the previous king, James VI of Scotland and I of England, had presided over the infamous Berwick Witch Trials, emphatically stating that witches did exist and had to be fought with all possible means. This most learned (but also rather foolish) king even wrote a book about witches , a text young Matthew seems to have studied quite avidly.

Witches have been around for a long time. For primitive man, so much of what surrounded him was difficult to interpret as anything but magic, and it follows that if there is magic there are people who can use magic. Even to this day, a surprisingly large percentage of the world’s population remains convinced that witches and wizards exist, and the savvy person makes sure never to tread on said witches’ toes.

From a Christian perspective, witches did not exist – at least not initially. The early fathers of the Church may have been derogatory of women in general, blaming them for everything from excessive carnal desires to a weak intellect and a propensity to sin, but they rarely said anything about witches. In fact, the Church held it heretical to claim someone was a witch, as to do so was to give credence to Satan’s lies.

But things happened as they say, and on one hand the Church was fighting a battle against ancient superstitions that insisted witches existed, on the other the Holy Catholic Church was being beset by heretics. And somewhere along the line, someone was smart enough to combine the accusations of heresy with those of unnatural magic – take the downfall of the Knight Templars, for example.

The Inquisition, ever eager for more victims to sink its teeth into, started mumbling and grumbling about witches – and especially about the heretical aspects of witches, as these old crones per definition worshiped Satan. A couple of fanatic monks latched on, a malleable pope sighed and went with the flow, and by the close of the 15th century, the Holy Church had concluded that witches did exist – and had to be rooted out. A papal bull confirmed this was so, a detailed handbook in how to identify the evil creatures (Malleus Maleficarum or The Witch Hammer - the Latin is in feminine, presupposing witches are mostly female) had conveniently been written in 1487, and armed with both these documents the representatives of good set out to do away with evil. Hmm. Major hmm, as these supposedly evil people were often women who deviated somewhat from the norm or who earned their living as healers and midwives.

Over the coming two centuries, somewhere around 45 000 to 65 000 people were to be executed as witches – mostly based on their own confessions, extracted from them via torture. Many of these poor souls were burned alive, but in most cases they were hanged, or beheaded, or garrotted, or strangled, before they were burnt. I suppose we must consider this a mercy. In the cases where they were burnt, it was often the sin of heresy that had them being tied alive to the stake. The Holy Church deemed heresy a far graver sin than that of dabbling in magic.

In difference to most of Europe, England had an established judicial process that required there to be proof before anyone was found guilty of anything (I know: such a novel concept!). This in turn means that England has a relatively low number of convicted witches – estimates land around 500 people, all in all. Of these, 300 can be attributed to Matthew Hopkins, who obviously took to the role as Witch-finder as fish take to water.

Back to 1645 and Hopkins’ grand debut – and it was quite the coup, as young Matthew managed to have close to thirty people convicted and executed as witches in one fell swoop. I guess he did some high-fives while pocketing the sizeable amount of money he was paid for his services – and herein lies the key to our Matthew’s dark, corroded soul: he was greedy, and he had found a way to make very easy money!

In March of 1645, Hopkins went after one Elizabeth Clarke. A perfect victim, seeing as this lady’s mother had been hanged as a witch. At his insistence, Elizabeth was thrown into prison, and his subsequent interrogation had her confessing to everything – and naming five other women as witches.

So what did he do to this poor woman, to have her condemning herself to death by her own confession? Hopkins was a subtle man – and more than aware that torture was forbidden in England. Of course, “torture” is relative, and throwing someone naked into a dark cold room, beating them and leaving them without food or light could be considered torture. As would another of Hopkins’ favourite methods, namely sleep deprivation. The poor prisoner was constantly watched, and whenever they seemed about to nod off, they were hauled to their feet and made to walk until they were properly awake.

If this failed, Hopkins advocated tying people in a cross-legged position for well over twenty-four hours, after which he would have them walked up and down in their cells until their bare feet blistered and bled. Nice guy, huh? And then we have the humiliating process of “pricking” which involved shaving the poor victim of all their body hair and then repeatedly sinking a needle or other sharp object into the victim. Should Matthew hit upon a point that didn’t bleed – well, obviously the naked, terrified woman being inspected was a witch. How convenient if one should use a pricking implement where the blade could be retracted into the handle, thereby ensuring there was no blood.

Poor Elizabeth caved in. So did most of the other women apprehended, and at the subsequent trial in Chelmsford in July of 1645, thirty-two people were accused of being witches. Twenty-nine were condemned to hang, and for every witch found guilty, Hopkins pocketed twenty shillings – a huge amount of money when considering a labourer earned at most half a shilling a day.

With Chelmford, Hopkins reputation was made. While he was never appointed by Parliament – and in fact there were quite a number of people in various positions of power that objected to Hopkins – he proclaimed himself Witch-finder General and went on to make the lives of the unfortunate women living in East Anglia even more uncertain than they already were.

Not one to rest on his laurels, Hopkins leapt onwards and upwards, and at the following trials in Bury St Edmunds in August of 1645, he noted with glee that 18 people were hanged on the same day based on his testimony. Two were men. One of these men was close to seventy, a minister named John Lowes. After several nights of sleep deprivation, coupled with being chased back and forth in his cell until he collapsed only to be pulled back to his feet and be subjected to it all again, Mr Lowes broke down and confessed that yes, he was a witch that had even caused a ship to sink off Harwich. No one bothered to check if a ship had in fact sunk…

Hopkins was now unstoppable. Hundreds of women – and a handful of men – were arrested and subjected to his patented forms of interrogation. If everything else failed, Hopkins recommended the “swimming” test, whereby the person was tied up and thrown into the water. If the person floated they were guilty. If they sank, they were not. Most people float – at least initially – when thrown in water. And once they start sinking, chances are they’re already more dead than alive… Hopkins, however, hedged his bets, and had ropes attached to the victim’s waist – to save them if they sank, he said, but just as likely his accomplices knew to use the rope to make sure the person “floated”.

Throughout 1646, Matthew Hopkins hauled one person after another to the gallows. At times, he was fortunate enough to see up to twenty people hang simultaneously, at others he had to content himself with only the single dead woman.

Obviously, Hopkins had a giant streak of sadism in him. Plus he rather liked the wealth he was amassing. And when people started questioning his methods he was very affronted, which was why he published a little pamphlet called Discovery of Witches in 1647, describing what he did and why. Some were less than impressed, and as the outraged voices of reason began to gain the upper hand, Matthew Hopkins found it wise to slip back into the obscurity from whence he came.

It is believed Hopkins died in 1647. Church records support that assumption. Some people hope that the legend by which he met his death at an angry mob who submitted him to his swimming test is true. Sadly, I am more prone to believe the version whereby he died in his bed of consumption, having coughed his lungs to pieces over several consecutive months. Whatever the case, I don’t think he was much missed.

In Revenge and Retribution, my main character, Alex Graham, faces accusations of being a witch. No wonder she is more than unnerved when she hears this. Just the thought of being subjected to one more humiliating inspection after the other – plus the fear that she might be found guilty – must have led to an endless number of sleepless nights!

An Editor's Choice from the archives, originally published August 26, 2014.
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Had Anna Belfrage been allowed to choose, she’d have become a professional time-traveller. As such a profession does not exist, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests, namely history and writing.

Presently, Anna is hard at work with The King’s Greatest Enemy, a series set in the 1320s featuring Adam de Guirande, his wife Kit, and their adventures and misfortunes in connection with Roger Mortimer’s rise to power. And yes, Edmund of Woodstock appears quite frequently. The first book, In The Shadow of the Storm was published in 2015, the second, Days of Sun and Glory, was published in July 2016, and the third, Under the Approaching Dark, was published in April 2017.

When Anna is not stuck in the 14th century, she's probably visiting in the 17th century, specifically with Alex(andra) and Matthew Graham, the protagonists of the acclaimed The Graham Saga. This is the story of two people who should never have met – not when she was born three centuries after him. The ninth book, There is Always a Tomorrow, was published in November 2017.

Historical Anecdotes

by the English Historical Fiction Authors

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William IV

William the Fourth

by David W. Wilkin

A few weeks back I wrote about the sons of George III and their mistresses who were as much of a wife as many of the marriages we honor today.

One of those was William, who succeeded his brother (George IV) and ruled from 1830 to 1837. He was succeeded in turn by Victoria. Prior to his reign he spent 20 years with Dorothea Jordan and had 10 children with her.

Dorothea Jordan

From the Oxford Book of Royal Anecdotes we have the exchange between George III to his son:

George III

"Hey, hey:--what's this--what's this. You keep an actress, they say."

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, well, well; how much do you give her, eh?"

"One thousand a year, sir."

"A thousand, a thousand; too much; too much! Five hundred quite enough! Quite enough!"

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Married Life by Samuel Pepys 
(with a bit of help from Deborah Swift)

Long-suffering Elisabeth Pepys

6th January

"Myself somewhat vexed at my wife's neglect in leaving of her scarfe, waistcoat and nightdressings in the coach that brought us from Westminster though I confess she did give them to me to look after - yet it was her fault not to see that I did not take them out of the coach." (italics mine)

Is it just me, or is this scene of married life frighteningly familiar?!
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Massacre Averted: The Siege of Calais 
by Rosanne E. Lortz

After the English defeated the French at the Battle of Crecy (1346), they moved on to besiege the city of Calais. French pirates had been using Calais as a base from which to attack English merchant ships, and this city situated on the Channel had been a thorn in England's side for years. The siege lasted almost a year. As the days inched by, Edward III grew more and more angry at all the time and money Calais was costing him.

The hungry citizens of Calais kept hoping that their king would come and lift the siege, but it was a risk Philip VI was not willing to take. Finally, in August of 1347, Calais' governor sent Edward word that they were ready to surrender and asked what terms they would receive. Enraged, Edward replied that they would receive no terms and that he intended to slaughter them all out of revenge. Edward's nobles pleaded with him not to commit such an atrocity. Grudgingly, he agreed to lessen his revenge, demanding instead that six of the leading citizens exit the city and come to him with a rope around their necks.

When Queen Philippa, who had come to France to be with her lord, heard that he meant to hang these men, she came into his presence and knelt before him. Heavy with child, she entreated him that for love of her he would refrain from pursuing his revenge. The love that Edward bore his wife was strong, and although he was sorely frustrated to see his desires blocked at every turn, he handed the captives over to his gentle wife. And so thanks to the good offices of Queen Philipa, these six men were spared, and all the citizens of Calais were allowed to leave the city unharmed.

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The weather and temperature in 18th Century England - by Mike Rendell

If my ancestor’s diaries are anything to go by, diarists love to record what the weather was like. After wading through pages of tedious reports of “fine-ish” or  “some rain, sunny at times” it is lovely to come across a more descriptive passage such as “a dribbling sort of day”. But my favourite description is when my ancestor Richard Hall says how cold it was in January 1776, making the comment  “Exceeding sharp; Snow, froze very hard. Froze the water in the Chamber pot.”  Now that is cold!

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"Little Ease": Torture and the Tudors
By Nancy Bilyeau

On a March night in 1534, a man and woman hurried past a row of cottages on the outer grounds of the Tower of London. They had almost reached the gateway to Tower Hill and, not far beyond it, the city of London, when a group of yeoman warders on night watch appeared in their path, holding lanterns.

In response, the young couple turned toward each other, in what seemed like a lover's embrace. But something about the man caught the attention of Yeoman Warder Charles Gore. He held his lantern higher and within seconds, recognized the pair. The man was a fellow yeoman warder, John Bawd, and the woman was Alice Tankerville, a condemned thief and prisoner.

So ended the Tower's first known escape attempt by a woman. But Alice's accomplice and admirer, the guard John Bawd, was destined to enter the Tower record books, too, and for the grimmest of reasons--he is the first known occupant of a peculiar torture cell used during the reigns of the Tudors and the early Stuarts. The windowless cell measured 1.2 m (4 square feet) and bore the faintly prim name of Little Ease. The prisoner within could not stand nor sit nor lie down but crouched over, in increasing agony, until freed from the suffocating, dark space.

 For more, go to the full article, Little Ease.

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That's No Ordinary Bunny...by M.M. Bennetts

I'm reminded me of this charming story of military valour and courage just about every time I pass the pet shop...

Hunting being the traditional sport of kings, Napoleon Bonaparte was mad about it.  And this one day, he wanted to go out hunting, so he and his various chums took their guns to a hunting lodge outside Paris for a day's shooting and general jollification.

The obsequious courtier who owned the hunting lodge in question decided to take no chances with the day's outcome--displeasing the Emperor could ruin one's life and livelihood--so he went and bought (figures vary here, but the received wisdom says 1000 or so) rabbits, just to make sure that everyone except the rabbits would have a great day out.

Unfortunately, what the courtier failed to understand was that these were domesticated rabbits.

Hence, when Napoleon and his posh mates started walking out into the field, the rabbits imagined it was their feeding time and, as one, rushed the little Corsican.

Can't you just see it?

And confronted by a thousand hungry, rushing hoppers what's a little corporal to do but run away?

And run faster!

Which is what he did--pursued by the rabbits.  All the way back to his carriage.  Where he hid, refusing to come out.

That's right, Napoleon cowered in his carriage whilst surrounded by ravenous, fanged, er, bunnies...Ha ha ha. (Also of interest perhaps:  he was afraid of cats.)

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The King, The Archbishop and The Bear 

by Judith Arnopp

Bishop Burnet, writing a century after the event, relates a bizarre incident that took place in Henry VIII’s reign during the aftermath of the six articles.  The Six Articles was an act that set out quite clearly and reinforced six points of medieval doctrine which Protestants at that time had begun to undermine. The act also specified the punishments due to those who did not accept them and was known by many protestants as ‘the bloody whip with six strings.’ As a married man, Archbishop Cranmer must have taken particular exception to Article Three which stated that priests should not be allowed to marry.

He set down his objections quite strongly, making detailed notes, all backed up with citations from the bible and learned scholars, and it is believed he planned to present his findings to Henry.  His secretary, Ralph Morice, duly copied the notes into a small book and set of with it to Westminster.

The king, meanwhile, was attending a bear-baiting across the river at Southwark and, just as Ralph Morice and company were passing in a wherry, the bear broke loose from the pit and with the dogs in hot pursuit, leapt into the river and made straight for the boat. Bishop Burnet goes on to relate that;

‘those that were in the boat leaped out and left the poor secretary alone there. But the bear got into the boat, with the dogs about her, and sank it. The secretary, apprehending his life was in danger, did not mind his book, which he lost in the water.’

You can just picture it, can't you? Dripping wet bear, soaked dogs, terrified clerk, wildly rocking boat?

When Morice reached the shore he saw his book floating and asked the bearward (who was not perhaps as ‘in charge’ of the bear as one might hope) to retrieve it for him. But before he could get his hands on it, the book fell into the hands of a priest who, realising what the book contained, declared that whoever claimed it would be hanged.

Burnet says that, ‘This made the bearward more intractable for he was a spiteful papist and hated the archbishop, so no offers or entreaties could prevail on him to give it back.’
In no little panic Morice sought the immediate assistance of Cromwell who, on discovering the bearward about to hand the book over to Cranmer’s enemies, confiscated it, threatening him severely for meddling with the book of the privy councillor. Thus saving the life of the Archbishop.

This all sounds rather like a scene from the film Carry-on Henry, a farce, far too unlikely to be true. I cannot help but wonder what Henry made of the spectacle.

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Women and Childbirth in 17th Century England by Sam Thomas

When we think about the difference between the past and present, our minds often turn to medicine, and with good reason. Who in their right minds would want to return to a world of leeches and blood-letting, of pregnancy without doctors and high death-rates for both mothers and children? But as so many of the writers on this blog have made clear, there is far more behind the history than modern stereotypes, and childbirth is no exception.

If you were to peek in on a woman in labor (or “in travail” as she might have said), the first thing you might notice is the people in the room. There would be a midwife rather than a doctor, of course, and you’d not find her husband – until the eighteenth century at the very earliest, childbirth was the business of women...

To read the rest of this post, click here.

Sam Thomas is the author of The Midwife's Tale: A Mystery from Minotaur/St.Martin's. Want to pre-order a copy? Click here. For more on midwifery and childbirth visit his website. You can also like him on Facebook  and follow him on Twitter.

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Boudicea: Warrior Queen of the Iceni 
by Teresa Thomas Bohannon

Boudicea Warrior Queen

Boudicea was Queen of the Iceni, a tribe of the ancient Britons (in what is now Norfolk) during the era when Nero ruled in Rome and Roman troops occupied Britain. Her husband, Præsutagus, was King of the Ice'ni, and a Roman ally. Under Roman law, the sovereignty of Præsutagus' realm would end at his death and neither Boudicea, nor their daughters would be allowed to rule in his stead, however his personal wealth was his to distribute as he would. Præsutagus, a powerful ruler, had amassed a great deal of wealth during his reign.  In an attempt to placate the occupying Romans and protect his family's legacy, Præsutagus, made the emperor of Rome co-heir to his personal wealth along with his two daughters. Unfortunately, Præsutagus underestimated the greed and brutality of the Romans. Immediately upon his death, they not only took possession of his lands, but also seized all of his personal assets. The widowed Queen was outraged and protested vigorously. For her impertinence, she was seized by the Romans and publicly stripped and flogged. Her daughters, were turned over to the Romans soldiers and subjected to indignity and rape.

Boudicea incited the Britons to war and riot leading them in several battles where Roman troops were decimated. She besought them to fight for their country and their homes. "On this spot we must either conquer or die with glory," she said. "There is no alternative. Though I am a woman, my resolution is fixed. The men, if they prefer, may survive with infamy and live in bondage. For me there is only victory or death."

To read more about Boudicea visit these posts
Boudicea: Warrior Queen & Boudicea: Destroyer of London

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The Great Stink of London, 1858 by Debra Brown

I greatly enjoy Liza Picard's book Victorian London. If you want to read numerous great anecdotes, her book is a wonderful source. Her first chapter discusses the smells of London past.

Day and night in Victorian times, she says, London stunk. The Thames "main ingredient" was human waste. Human excrement was sold as fertilizer to nurseries and farms surrounding London by the night-soil men who emptied the cesspits. A chamber pot might be emptied on your head as you walked through the narrow streets, adding to the stench of dead dogs, horse and cattle manure and rotting vegetables.

By 1841 there were 1,945,000 people and 200,000 cesspits full and overflowing. Years of waste fermented in miles of sewers in Holborn and Finsbury with no access to the Thames. Even in aristocratic Belgravia, Grosvenor Square, Hanover Square and Berkeley Square noxious matter stopped up house drains and reeked. Buckingham Palace smelled from drains that ran below.

Cows were kept in cowsheds all over London in appalling conditions with no space for cleaning. Cattle, sheep and pigs sold in Smithfield Market walked through London streets leaving behind 40,000 tons of dung a year, and thousands of horses each excreted 45 lb. of faeces and 3.5 lb. of urine a day.

A 14 foot deep pit at St. Bride's Church was reopened every Wednesday to take in carcasses of dead paupers until it could hold no more. The whole neighborhood stunk.

Coal gas stunk, and gas mains leaked. In Bermondsey skins and hides were tanned using a process including dog turds. Refuse from hospitals, fishmonger's and fishmarket washings and offal, slaughterhouse offal, glule-makers, candle-makers, bone dealers, dye works, dead rats, dogs and cats and even, the January 1862 journal The Builder said, dead babes stank.

  © Copyright Mick Garratt and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

Finally there was a breakthrough, right? when water closets became a normal part of a house. By 1857 there were 200,000 of them all duly sidetracking the cesspits and emptying straight into the Thames via the sewers. The result was the Great Stink of 1858.

" Broken Victorian Sewage Pipe Saltburn's sewage used to be discharged into the sea below Huntcliff. The pipe has been filled with concrete but the constant pounding of the sea twice a day at high tide is gradually taking its toil of the pipe." Wikimedia

This at last precipitated actions which helped to turn things around. You really do want to read Liza's book!

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HOW TO WIN AN ANNIVERSARY GIFT BOOK

We have arrived at our Anniversary weekend. In one year nearly 80,000 unique visitors. A historical post everyday. More than 50 bloggers bringing you a little piece of English History every day that they uncover in their research. History that adds color and background to the novels that they write for your enjoyment.

To thank all those who have come this year to sample the endeavors herein, twenty of the books that our writers have labored over are being given away this weekend. Just post your name, email in the comments section for a chance to win. (Many people place spaces on each sign of the @ symbol, or type that out as (AT) but we'll get the idea.) A comment on Saturday the 22nd, or Sunday the 23rd or both days will garner a chance to win one of the twenty books. Some are eBooks, some are physical and have restrictions as to where they will ship. Should you win, we will contact the author and provide them with your information. They then will contact you and if there is a problem because of the restrictions, we shall find away to get another tome into your hands. 

In no particular order for all prizes will be awarded randomly, we have donations for our giveaway from these authors and their works:

David Wilkin--The Shattered Mirror, The End of the World ebooks

Debbie Brown--Companion of Lady Holmeshire

Nancy Bilyeau--The Crown (2 Copies)

Lauren Gilbert--Heyerwood

Deborah Swift--The Gilded Lily

Katherine Pym--London 1660

Lucinda Brant--Deadly Affair

Cathie Dunn--Dark Deceit

Maria Grace--The Future Mrs. Darcy, Darcy's Decision

Nancy Jardine--The Beltane Choice

Maggie Secara--The Dragon Ring

Edward H. Carpenter--A Matter of Honor

Karen Wasylowski--Sons and Daughters

Peter St. John--Gang Territory

Teresa Thomas Bohannon--Choice of: A Very Merry Chase, Shadows in a Timeless Myth or The Widow's Tale

Mark Patton--Undreamed Shores

Sherry Jones -- Four Sisters, All Queens