Confessions And Defenses Of A 17th Century Witch Hunter
If you were living in 16th century England and your neighborhood was suffering from a witch infestation, there was no need to panic. The Witchfinder general was probably already on his way.
In just a short three-year career (from 1644-1647), Matthew Hopkins, the son of a Puritan minister, ensured an estimated 230 people were hung for the crime of witchcraft. He claims to have been commissioned by the British parliament as the nation’s official Witchfinder General. But the title, historians said, was likely his own invention.
In 1647, Hopkins published a pamphlet called, “The Discovery of Witches,” to address criticisms he had received for his methods. He responded to each critique in turn, revealing the secrets of his complicated, misunderstood and undeniably cruel profession.
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Along with trademark pointed hats and flying broomsticks, witches are often depicted with warts on their noses and black cats at their sides. The cat and the wart are products of the same piece of witch lore.
It was the understanding of witchfinders like Hopkins that a witch would have, somewhere on her body, a “witch’s teat,” a third nipple. The teat, which Hopkins said, “honest women have not,” was not used to nurture a child, but to feed blood to a witch’s familiars, also called imps.
These supernatural companions were understood to be demonic spirits, befriended or imprisoned by witches, who often took the form of animals — some being unremarkable and others disfigured and strange.
Hopkins met one particularly bizarre familiar named Vinegar Tom, a greyhound with the head of an ox. When Hopkins “bade him goe to the place provided for him and his Angels,” (the 16th-century Puritan version of “go to hell”) Vinegar Tom turned into a headless 4 year-old child.
In response to the critics that attributed the teats to aging or illness, Hopkins said that these “devil’s marks” were investigated by the “ablest men” and by “skillful matrons and midwives.” Investigations were satisfied if the teat was located in a strange place for a nipple, if it was numb to being poked with a needle and if it varied in hydration day by day–seen as proof of suckling.
The teats were likely warts, moles and other blemishes. The third nipple could also have been an actual third nipple, which, today, is not particularly abnormal. For example, 6% of the U.S. population has one.
Another tactic for witch-detection was the swimming test. The theory was that since witches rejected their Christian baptism in water by convening with Satan. Water, in turn, would reject them, causing them to float. Hopkins would tie up a woman and toss her into the water. Her buoyancy determined her fate.
Perhaps most abhorred by his critics, both in our time and his own, was Hopkins’ use of torture. In the pamphlet, Hopkins distanced himself from this method. He said that torture was used in “the infancy of this discovery” and that it was encouraged by local magistrates. But he claimed that for the last 18 months (midway through his career) he had stopped the practice.
Still, he did not demonstrate remorse for his actions. He even minimized them by claiming that “seldome did any Witch ever complaine.”
The most common method of torture witch-finders employed was sleep deprivation — hoping exhaustion would draw the witch’s imps to her side. To keep them from sleeping, Hopkins forced the accused to walk “till their feet were blistered.” The practice was only banned when the sleep-deprived women turned to self-harm, beating their heads together while imprisoned.
The concern for the physical wellbeing of the women was not the only issue Hopkins’ critics had with torture. They also saw it as an ineffective method of discovery, since, presumably, Hopkins was able to torture the accused so severely that they would say anything for relief.
Hopkins, in response to this criticism, “utterly denyes that confession of a witch be of any validity, when it is drawn from her by any torture or violence whatsoever.” He also denied accepting confessions earned from leading questions or bribes.
Hopkins claimed that the only confession he trusted from a witch was one that was declared “of her own accord” and “without any of the before-mentioned hard usages or questions put to her.”
Even if Hopkins truly would have found a confession won by torture to be disqualifying, historian Wallace Notestein acknowledged in his book, “A History of Witchcraft in England,” that Hopkins always separated the accused from all her peers. Hopkins said that, in her isolation, the woman would be “brought into a sad condition” and see her wrongdoing clearly, which led to confession.
Notestein added: “Here, indeed, is a clue to many confessions. Several men arrayed against one solitary and weak woman could break her resolution and get from her very much what they pleased.”
The final claim that Hopkins refuted is that he was only interested in witch-finding to “fleece the country of their money.” But, he claimed he only ever asked for 20 shillings for his services ($225 in today’s purchasing power) — and that he only came where he was invited. He never advertised his services.
However, Notestein wrote that, in at least one instance, records clearly show he was paid 23 pounds for his work ($5,000 in today’s purchasing power).
Hopkins died the same year he published “The Discovery of Witches.” Historians said he was only 27 years old. A fellow witch-hunter, John Stearne, said that Hopkins died from consumption. But not long after his demise, another theory about his death began to gain traction. Legend says that eventually, the Witchfinder General himself was investigated for witchcraft. And that, when given the swimming test, he, like so many women, was damned by the waters.
Matthew Peterson is Religion Unplugged’s podcast editor and audience development coordinator. He took part in the 2025 European Journalism Institute held in Prague, an annual program co-sponsored by The Media Project.