Extraordinary horror author and pal, Catherine Cavendish, has a fantastic new novella out, The Malan Witch. The only thing creepier than that tale is, well, Cat's guest post this week on the horrific true exploits of witchfinder general, Matthew Hopkins.
My new novella– The Malan Witch –
features a particularly nasty piece of supernatural manifestation, certainly
not an entity you would want to bump into on a dark and stormy night (or day, for
that matter). But, as she is merely a figment of my warped imagination, you have
nothing to fear from her. No, really, I promise…
But go back four hundred years and, if you were a woman (or, less
commonly, a man) who knew how to fix a hearty and healing soup, or a potion to
draw poison from wounds,; if you understood the various properties of the
myriad of herbs to be found around and about your hovel and, especially if you
were old, lived alone, possessed a few warts and had a cat named Spillykins or
Grimalkin, you would need to take great care. Woe betide you if you upset a
neighbour and his prize cow dropped dead. If such misfortune were to befall
you, it might only be a matter of time before you heard the dreaded knock at
the door from the likes of a witchfinder.
And the most notorious of those was one Matthew Hopkins – self-styled ‘Witchfinder
General’.
Hopkins was born in 1620 and little is known about his early life. His
most famous career lasted just a couple of years – between 1644 until his retirement
in 1647, but in fourteen months of that time, he managed to be responsible for
the deaths of some 300 women, mainly in the eastern counties of England. All
were convicted of witchcraft on his authority. The total number of executions
for witchcraft between the 15th and 18th centuries
amounts to less than 500. Matthew Hopkins and his colleague, John Stearne,
certainly contributed more than their fair share.
Since the Lancashire witch trials of 1612 that convicted the Pendle witches,
the law had been changed. It was now necessary to provide material proof that
accused person had practiced witchcraft. It was the role of Hopkins and Stearne
to provide evidence that the accused had entered into a pact with the devil. A
confession was vital – from the human, as the devil would hardly confess.
Hopkins traveled freely throughout eastern England, although Essex was
his centre of operations. His career as witchfinder began when he heard a group
of women talking about meeting the devil in Manningtree in March 1644. Twenty-three
women were tried at Chelmsford in 1645. Four died in prison and nineteen were
convicted and hanged. Hopkins was well paid for his work and this may well have
spurred him on to be even more zealous. He and Stearne traveled with a team
and wherever they turned up, the local community found themselves handing over
significant amounts of money. In Ipswich, this was so great, that a special
local tax had to be created to fund it!
Hopkins’s methods were dubious to say the least. He would employ
torture, including sleep deprivation. He would ‘cut’ the arm of a witch with a
blunt knife and if, as was likely, she did not bleed, she was pronounced a
witch. He was also a great fan of the ‘swimming’ test, or ducking. As witches
were believed to have renounced their baptism, water would reject them. So,
they were tied to a chair and thrown in the river. Those who floated were
guilty. Those who drowned were innocent. You simply couldn’t win.
Hopkins also favoured the practice of ‘pricking’. This involved
searching the accused’s body for any unusual blemishes or moles. A knife or
needle was used to test the mark. If it bled, on being pricked, the woman was
innocent. If it failed to bleed, she was guilty. It has long been alleged that
many of these ‘prickers’ had a retractable point, so that the hapless prisoner
would be confirmed as a witch when the mark failed to bleed. What better way
for a ‘witchfinder’ to enhance his reputation than by identifying so many
‘witches’?
Hopkins and his merry band spread fear all over the countryside, but
their reign was short-lived. John Gaule, vicar of Great Staughton in
Cambridgeshire, preached a number of sermons denouncing him. His opposition
began when he visited a woman who was being held in gaol on charges of
witchcraft, until such time as Hopkins could attend to investigate her guilt or
innocence. Gaule heard of a letter Hopkins had sent, where he had enquired as
to whether he would be given a ‘good welcome’ in that area. A good, financially rewarding welcome no doubt. At
around the same time, justices of the assizes in Norfolk questioned Hopkins and
Stearne about their methods of torture (which was outlawed in England) and the
extortionate fees.
The writing was clearly all over the wall. Their reign of terror was
over. By the time the next court session sat, both Hopkins and Stearne had
conveniently retired and the infamous Witchfinder General had put away his
witch ‘pricker’ for the last time. But that was, sadly, not the end of his
story.
Hopkins published a book, called The
Discovery of Witches, in 1647, where he outlined his witch-hunting methods.
This ensured his legacy lived on – and expanded far beyond the shores of his
native England. Witch-hunting in New England began and was conducted in
accordance with his methods. In 1692, some of Hopkins’s methods were once again
employed. In Salem, Massachusetts.
Naught
remained of their bodies to be buried, for the crows took back what was
theirs.’
An
idyllic coastal cottage near a sleepy village. What could be more perfect? For
Robyn Crowe, borrowing her sister’s recently renovated holiday home for the summer
seems just what she needs to deal with the grief of losing her beloved husband.
But
behind those pretty walls lie many secrets, and legends of a malevolent
sisterhood - two witches burned for their evil centuries earlier. Once, both
their vile spirits were trapped there. Now, one has been released. One who is
determined to find her sister. Only Robyn stands in her way.
And
the crow has returned.
You can order The
Malan Witch here:
About the Author
Following a varied career in sales, advertising and career guidance,
Catherine Cavendish is now the full-time author of a number of paranormal,
ghostly and Gothic horror novels, novellas and short stories. Cat’s novels
include The Garden of Bewitchment. The
Haunting of Henderson Close, the Nemesis of the Gods trilogy - Wrath of the Ancients, Waking the
Ancients and Damned by the Ancients, plus The Devil’s Serenade, The Pendle Curse and Saving Grace Devine.
In addition to The Malan Witch, her
novellas include: The Darkest Veil, Linden
Manor, Cold Revenge, Miss Abigail’s
Room, The Demons of Cambian Street, Dark Avenging Angel, The Devil Inside Her, and The Second Wife
Her short stories have appeared in a number of anthologies including
Silver Shamrock’s Midnight in the Graveyard, and her story - The
Oubliette of Élie Loyd - will appear in their forthcoming Midnight in
the Pentagram, to be published later this year.
She lives by the sea in Southport, England with her long-suffering
husband, and a black cat called Serafina who has never forgotten that her
species used to be worshipped in ancient Egypt. She sees no reason why that
practice should not continue.
You can connect with Cat here:
