Hopkins: pain and money

 

Matthew Hopkins: The Infamous Witchfinder General

Matthew Hopkins (c. 1620 – August 12, 1647) was an English witch-hunter who became infamous as the self-styled Witchfinder General during the English Civil War (1642–1651). He and his kind brought suffering and torture to those who were considered to be witches, often without a fair trail or even logic and often the result of in-fighting and land grabbing by town residents. For Hopkins witchcraft was his business; a business was good!  

Most, however, of his and his kind’s victims were NOT witches but just ordinary people against whom accusations and lies were drawn. All those who were tortured and killed during the witch hunts were victims of prejudice, superstition and corruption. The ones who were actually witches ( or cunning folk) will always be remembered and we hope that such barbarity can never take hold of the West again! Witches will never forget. 

Active primarily in East Anglia (including Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, and Huntingdonshire), he and his associate John Stearne were responsible for more witchcraft executions in England than any other figure—likely between 100 and 300 people (mostly women) sent to the gallows between 1644 and 1647. This accounted for a significant portion (around 60–70%) of all known English witchcraft executions over centuries.

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Torture and killing was good for business 

Hopkins never held an official parliamentary commission for the title “Witchfinder General,” though he claimed it and was hired by local communities to identify and prosecute witches for a fee (often around £1 per witch, plus expenses for his assistants and travel).

Early Life and Background

Born around 1620 in Great Wenham, Suffolk, Hopkins was the son of a Puritan minister, James Hopkins. He grew up in a religious household and later moved to Manningtree, Essex (on the Essex-Suffolk border), around 1640–1644. He may have trained or practiced as a lawyer (though records are sparse), and he inherited enough to live genteelly without heavy labor—possibly including owning or profiting from a pub. His Puritan upbringing fuelled a zealous belief in demonic forces and the need to combat witchcraft, amplified by King James I’s earlier writings on the subject (Daemonologie, 1597). More on this in a later article.

Little is documented about his life before 1644, when he first emerged publicly.

Rise as Witchfinder General

Hopkins’ career began in March 1644 in Manningtree, Essex, amid the chaos of civil war—when local governance was disrupted, fear was rampant, and communities sought scapegoats for misfortunes like illness or crop failure.

Hopkins the man who all feared 

He claimed to have discovered six witches who allegedly tried to kill him with sorcery. This sparked his first major hunt. Partnering with John Stearne (a fellow Puritan enthusiast) and sometimes a midwife named Mary Phillips, Hopkins toured villages, charging fees to “search” for witches. 

The Hopkins Guide to Torture and pain

He used methods detailed in his 1647 pamphlet The Discovery of Witches:

•  Pricking for “witch’s marks” (moles, warts, or insensitive spots believed to be extra teats for feeding demonic familiars/imps). He used blunt or rigged needles to ensure no pain was felt.

•  Walking suspects endlessly (often all night) to exhaust them and prevent summoning familiars.

•  Swimming (ducking): Binding and throwing suspects into water; floating indicated guilt (as water supposedly rejected those who had renounced baptism), while sinking proved innocence (though many drowned or were rescued).

•  Sleep deprivation and psychological pressure to extract confessions, which often named others in chains of accusations.

These techniques would today be considered torture and produced coerced, fantastical confessions involving animal familiars (e.g., Vinegar Tom the greyhound with an ox head, or imps like Newes, Jarmara, or Pecke in the Crowne).

His most infamous campaign started in 1645 with Elizabeth Clarke (an elderly, one-legged widow in Manningtree), whose confession implicated dozens. This led to the Chelmsford Assizes trial in July 1645, where 19 were hanged, and spread to Suffolk (e.g., Bury St Edmunds, where 18 more were executed in August 1645).

Hopkins profited handsomely but faced growing criticism. 

Puritan minister John Gaule denounced his brutal methods in 1646 (Select Cases of Conscience touching Witches and Witchcrafts), arguing they were un-Christian and ineffective. Public backlash, combined with the end of the First Civil War and restored order, forced Hopkins to retire in 1647.

The end of the madness in England. We hope for good !

Death and Legacy - good riddance!!

Hopkins died on August 12, 1647, at his home in Manningtree (or nearby Mistley), Essex, likely from pleural tuberculosis (a lung infection causing coughing and weakness). He was buried in an unmarked grave. He was only in his late 20s.

A persistent myth claims he was accused of witchcraft, subjected to his own swimming test, floated, and hanged—but this is false; he died of illness.

They didn’t kill witches; 

they killed women

Hopkins remains a symbol of fanaticism, opportunism, and mass hysteria. His hunts exploited wartime instability, Puritan zeal, misogyny (most victims were poor, elderly, or marginalised women), and community grudges. Modern historians view him as a semi-demented, dying young man driven by religious fervor and personal gain, or simply a con artist profiting from fear.

His story inspired cultural works, including the 1968 horror film Witchfinder General(starring Vincent Price as a dramatised, older Hopkins) and books like Ronald Hutton’s analyses. Today, he serves as a cautionary figure in discussions of injustice, scapegoating, and the dangers of unchecked authority during crises.

As you sit and ponder this article I ask that you consider the horror of being accused and tortured for something that you did to help others who simply hadn’t done at all. Consider also that such prejudices and superstitions are still prevalent in some countries and cultures.

If we don’t learn from history, we are doomed to repeat it.  

George Santayana