Matthew Hopkins: The Witchfinder General

In 1644, England was tearing itself apart in civil war. Puritan against Royalist, Parliament against King, brother against brother. Into this chaos stepped Matthew Hopkins, a failed lawyer who would become England's most notorious witch hunter. Hopkins called himself the 'Witchfinder General'—a self-appointed title with no official authority. Yet in just two years (1645-1647), he was responsible for the deaths of more than 100 people, perhaps as many as 300. This was more than the previous 100 years of English witch trials combined. His method was terrifyingly simple: he traveled from town to town offering his services. For a fee, he would identify and interrogate witches. Town authorities, anxious about witchcraft and eager to demonstrate godly vigilance during wartime, hired him readily. Hopkins claimed he could identify witches through several methods. He searched their bodies for 'witch's marks'—insensitive spots supposedly left by the Devil. He used a spring-loaded pin that retracted when pressed against skin, then claimed the spot felt no pain. He looked for 'imps' or familiars—any unusual moles, growths, or even hemorrhoids were evidence of suckling demons. But his cruelest technique was sleep deprivation. He kept suspects awake for days, walking them in circles until they were delirious, hallucinatory, and willing to confess to anything. He called this 'watching'—staying awake to see if familiars would appear to visit the witch. Prisoners, desperate for rest, would 'confess' to see any creature they hallucinated. Hopkins also used the 'swimming test'—binding suspects and throwing them into water. If they floated, the water (a pure element) rejected them, proving guilt. If they sank, they were innocent—but often drowned before they could be rescued. Hopkins justified this as merciful: 'We try them with the gentle element of water before the harsh element of fire.' Who did Hopkins target? Primarily poor, elderly women. Widows living alone. Argumentative women who'd made enemies. Women who practiced folk healing. Anyone could be accused—by a neighbor with a grudge, by someone seeking their property, by tortured prisoners forced to name accomplices. One of his victims was Elizabeth Clarke, an elderly one-legged woman living in Manningtree. After days of sleep deprivation, she 'confessed' to having five familiars with names like 'Pyewacket' and 'Grizzle Greedigut.' Her fantastical confession, extracted through torture, became evidence against dozens of others. Hopkins wrote a pamphlet, 'The Discovery of Witches,' defending his methods and profits. He claimed to identify witches through godly gifts, not for money—while simultaneously charging towns substantial fees per witch discovered. The business of witch-hunting was lucrative. But Hopkins' reign of terror was short. By 1647, his methods faced criticism. Some clergy questioned whether torture-extracted confessions were valid. Some town authorities balked at the costs. Hopkins himself fell ill (possibly tuberculosis) and died in 1647 at age 27. Legend says Hopkins was himself accused of witchcraft, subjected to the swimming test, and drowned. It's probably not true—he likely died of disease. But the story persists because people wanted poetic justice. They wanted to believe that evil gets its comeuppance. The real lesson of Matthew Hopkins isn't about justice or karma. It's about how easily fear can be weaponized for profit. Hopkins wasn't motivated by religious conviction or genuine belief in witchcraft. He was an opportunist who exploited wartime paranoia to make money and gain power. He teaches us that persecution often serves the persecutor's interests. That moral panic creates opportunities for the unscrupulous. That extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, and confessions under duress are worthless. He also teaches us the danger of self-appointed authorities. Hopkins had no legal training, no official commission, no accountability. Yet towns hired him because he claimed expertise and arrived during a crisis when authorities felt overwhelmed. Study Hopkins, young witch. Watch for modern 'witchfinder generals'—people who claim to identify hidden dangers, who profit from fear, who use cruel methods justified as necessary, who operate without oversight during times of crisis. And remember: Hopkins is dead. His victims are gone. But the patterns he exemplified—scapegoating, profiteering from fear, torture for confessions, vigilante justice—these patterns persist. Recognize them. Resist them. We are still here. They tried to burn us all. They failed.