Dispelling Some Myths: A Union Flag in distress

In April 2024 Tastes Of History wrote an article to dispel a couple of popular myths concerning the flying of the Union Flag upside down. The article has received some comments; some more enlightened than others. One deserves an addendum to the original article to clarify that “[I]f hung horizontally or vertically [on a flat surface], the broad white diagonal should be uppermost in the top-left corner.” So, technically whoever hung the flag may have unintentionally done so upside down. But to be charitable, this flag is in a primary school, and if you know anything about the educational sphere then you will know teachers face far too many pressures in multiple different areas for simple mistakes like this to happen. So, while first forgiving whoever made this easily made mistake let us turn to one of the other comments challenging our claim that flying the Union Flag upside down as a distress signal was a myth.

“No names, no pack drill” [1] but the comment in question reads as follows:

“You can not [sic] prove if it was or was not used upside down as a distress signal. Saying it would not be noticed from a distance is moot. It was meant to be a subtle warning so the enemy very probably would not notice it. As I remember it, it was done if the building/base had infiltrators in it to warn those approaching it. It may not have been an official thing to do, but appears to have been done somewhere at some point due to the widespread stories of it.”

The writer of this comment will remain anonymous, but the content gives us an opportunity to critically think about the claims being made. We stress that what follows is not an attack on the person - a roasting if you prefer - since Tastes Of History believes that sort of approach is negative, unnecessary and perpetuates ignorance. Rather we contend that dissecting the claims made will reveal the fragility of the argument but perhaps offer us all a chance to learn. We hope, dear reader, you will agree.

With that caveat in mind, let us begin. The comment writer’s reference to “the enemy” and “the building/base” strongly suggests they are thinking largely in military terms so let us stick with that premise. For many decades now modern armed forces have used encrypted communications. Were a “Forward Operating Base” (FOB) or “Fire Support Base” (FSB) in a hostile or a semi-permissive environment be under attack, being infiltrated or about to be overwhelmed, then the communications network(s) would be awash with information, situation reports (sitreps), updates and requests for support. On operations to hear the phrase “troops in contact” (or something similar) focuses all attention on the troops in question such that friendly forces will be instantly aware of any actual or developing situation, and ready to help. The need to issue a “subtle warning so the enemy very probably would not notice it” does not therefore stand up to scrutiny. Firstly, noticing a Union Flag being flown upside down from a distance is not exactly moot. As we said in the earlier article: “to a casual observer or someone unfamiliar with the flag’s design it is not very easy to spot whether it is orientated correctly”. The chances with the enemy’s focus wholly on assaulting the base and, if under fire, they would care little for an upside down flag whether they realised its supposed significance as a “distress signal” or not.

One would like to think that military personnel would notice but would they see it was a “subtle warning” something was amiss, or would the typical “squaddie” simply think that someone had made a massive, punishable mistake (while perhaps thankful they had not done it). After serving for nearly a quarter of a century in the British Army, alongside Royal Navy and Royal Air Force personnel, the author has never encountered this idea that flying the flag upside down was a distress signal. No official Ministry of Defence (MoD) or individual service standing orders were issued, no operational orders for deployments included such direction, no unit standard operating procedures (SOPs) mentioned it, there were no unofficial “gentlemen’s” agreements, in fact nothing to substantiate the “distress signal” claim.

The closest reference we could find to date with any proven military connection was on the website of BFBS Forces News [2]. An article published ahead of King Charles III’s coronation celebrations in 2022 questioned, in a country awash with Union Jacks, how many people would unknowingly hang them upside down. Within said article author, Julian Perreira, wrote:

“It is often said that when the Union Flag is flown upside down, it is a form of distress signal – a coded signal – and should only be used as such.”

It is worth highlighting that Mr Perreira did not categorically state that an upside down flag is a distress signal, he merely notes that “it is often said”. In other words, while many people may believe this to be the case, that is not the same as there being any officially recognised, documented proof. Rather the whole “distress signal” notion is predicated on hearsay and uncorroborated word-of-mouth. It is, therefore, just another urban myth, which the Cambridge Dictionary defines as “a story or statement that is not true but is often repeated, and believed by many to be true”.

Returning to our military analogy, where a base is at the very real risk of being overrun, then the defenders undoubtedly will have far more pressing concerns. The most obvious would be directly engaging the enemy and resisting infiltration, but other actions would include destroying cryptographic material and devices, destroying protectively marked (classified) documents, hard drives and recording devices, and generally taking every possible action to deny the enemy any exploitable information and materiel. The belief that someone has time to disengage from the firefight to strike a flag, flip it upside down and fly it once more as a “distress signal”, subtle or not, is just nonsensical.

If still not convinced, then let us consider the weakness of the final sentence in this particular comment which reads:

“It may not have been an official thing to do, but appears to have been done somewhere at some point due to the widespread stories of it.”

Firstly, the writer states using an upside flag as a distress signal was not an officially recognised thing to do. In most mainstream militaries, unofficial actions are frowned upon and not encouraged. Moreover, if not a recognised practice, then that implies leaving a lot of service personnel completely ignorant of said “distress signal”. In other words, if personnel are not briefed or trained to look for this subtle signal then they will not recognise the significance, nor take the appropriate action (whatever that might be), and more dangerously could walk straight into an ambush. Despite this the comment writer contests that flying flags upside down was done somewhere, by someone, at some time, so it must be true. Yet in providing no evidence to support this ambiguous statement, the writer rather neatly commits the very thing they accuse Tastes Of History of doing at the comment’s beginning, that is, not providing evidence for or against the distress signal idea. Except we did.

We stated quite clearly that the authoritative publication on “Flying Flags in the United Kingdom” makes no mention of the practice. Indeed, we can find no official UK governmental or MoD documentation that establishes definitively the practice of flying a Union Flag upside down as a distress signal applicable to the armed forces or anyone else. There are, however, many mentions of the upside down flag as a distress signal in online discussions or articles on the correct way to fly the Union Flag. Are these frequent mentions “the widespread stories of it” happening? If so, then we return to the very definition of an urban myth. Flying the Union Flag upside down as a distress signal may be often repeated and believed by many, but it is simply not true.

If, dear reader, you know otherwise and can provide documentary evidence from an official source, then let us know because every day should be a learning day. Bon appétit!

References:

Cambridge Dictionary, (2025), “Urban Myth”, Cambridge University Press & Assessment website, available online (accessed 8 October 2025).

Perreira, J, (2022), “Union Jack: Do you know the correct way up?”, bfbs Forces News, available online (accessed 8 October 2025).

Endnotes:

1. “No names, no pack drill” has its origins in the British Army where “pack drill” refers to a punishment involving soldiers carrying heavy packs during exercise or drills. The phrase implies that if an individual is not named then there can be no recriminations or punishment for their actions.

2. The British Forces Broadcasting Service (BFBS) provides radio and television programmes for His Majesty's Armed Forces and their dependents worldwide.

About History: Assassins

Hashīshīn

During the 12th- and 13th-century Crusades in the Middle East Europeans encountered the “Order of Assassins”, members of the Nizari Isma'ili, a Shia Muslim sect in the mountains of Lebanon. Renowned as militant fanatics, the sect ruled part of northern Persia (1094–1256) after the capture in 1090 of Alamut Castle in the Alborz Mountain range which went on to serve as the Assassins' headquarters. The Alamut and Lambsar castles became the foundation of a network of Isma'ili fortresses throughout Persia and Syria that formed the backbone of Assassin power, and included Syrian strongholds at Masyaf, Abu Qubays, al-Qadmus and al-Kahf. Members of the sect were small in number, and at the outset lacked economic assets, but they did have a terrifying secret weapon: the fida'i, a cadre of elite killers possessing unquestioning loyalty.

In their remote bases in Syria, the Assassins trained and perfected their squads of fida'i. Only the most committed and able, both mentally and physically, were chosen to receive the rigorous training needed to complete their highly dangerous missions. Most of their attacks were on high-profile individuals, often in very public places, with slim chances of survival. Every member of a fida'i team therefore had to be courageous and committed to the cause. Admirers of the Assassins saw them as dedicated and skilful while their enemies described them as fanatical, even brainwashed. Either way, the fida'i were an extremely focused and effective force in the 12th-century Middle East.

By the middle of the century, the Assassins had become feared across the region, a reputation reinforced under the rule of Rashid ad-Din Sinan, the de facto leader of the Nizari Isma'ili state in Syria and Persia in AD 1162. Known as Sinan, he strengthened the Assassins’ network of mountain fortresses and professionalised the fida’i. More formalised and better training produced increasingly highly motivated men and perfected their deadly craft. Sinan became known as shaik-al-jibal, which translates as the “Old Man of the Mountain”, presumably echoing the sect’s mountainous bastions. Originally a personal honorific, the title would become synonymous with Assassins’ leader creating a sense of fear transcending death such that regardless of who was in charge, there was always an “Old Man of the Mountain”.

The Arabic nickname for the Nizari Isma'ili was hashīshīn, the plural of hashishiyy, literally meaning “hashish-eater”. This undoubtedly derogatory term implied that the supposedly fanatical behaviour of the members of the sect was due to their intoxication by hashīsh. This was certainly the understanding of Marco Polo whose works introduced the Western world to the Assassins. In western European minds of the 12th- and 13th-centuries, this pejorative notion stuck, and the Nizari Isma'ili gained a reputation for murdering opposing leaders while intoxicated. While the salacious tale preys on western prejudices, the Nizari Isma'ili certainly did assassinate many political targets, but there is no evidence that they used hashīsh.

The plural suffix -in was mistaken in Europe for part of the word. So, hashīshīn became hassasis or assasis in Old French and Assissini or Assassini in Italian. From the start of the 14th-century, and into the 15th-century, the Nizari Ismaili sect's nickname came to mean, in Italian at least, any sort of person who murdered for political or religious reasons. By the 1530s the familiar meaning of the term “assassin” entered French, followed a little later by English.

Assassination

While the “Order of Assassins” typically refers to the entire sect, in reality only a small group of disciples known as the fida'i engaged in conflict. Allegedly their preferred method of killing was by dagger, nerve poison or arrows. Over the course of nearly 200 years, the Assassins killed hundreds – including three successive Rashidun caliphs (Umar, Uthman Ibn Affan, and Ali ibn Abi Talib), a ruler of Jerusalem and several Muslim and Christian leaders. Murders were carried out for political reasons but also to intimidate, for revenge, for money, out of personal animosity or, frequently, a combination of these reasons.

Assassination, however, is one of the oldest tools of power politics. It is thought that the Old Kingdom Sixth Dynasty (23rd-century BC) Egyptian pharaoh Teti was the earliest known victim of assassination, although the evidence is inconclusive. Records do survive of the assassination of Middle Kingdom Twelfth Dynasty (20th-century BC) pharaoh Amenemhat I in his bed by his palace guards but for what reason is again unknown. Likewise, contemporary judicial records relate the assassination of New Kingdom Twentieth Dynasty monarch Ramesses III in 1155 BC as part of a failed coup attempt. Further east seven Persian kings of Achaemenid Dynasty were likewise assassinated between 550 BC and 330 BC, and the practice was also well known in ancient China. Around the same time (336 BC) Alexander the Great’s father, Philip II of Macedon, was stabbed to death by Pausanias of Orestis, one of the king’s seven bodyguards.

While many assassinations were performed by individuals or small groups, larger specialised units also existed. Predating the Middle Eastern Nizari Ismaili sect and Japanese shinobi-no-mono by centuries, the earliest were a group of Jewish assassins known as the Sicarii. They were active throughout Judaea in the years leading up to and during the First Jewish–Roman War (AD 66 to AD 74). The Sicarii mounted a high-profile campaign of targeted assassinations of Romans and their Jewish collaborators and later would became notorious for a reported mass suicide during the Siege of Masada in AD 72 to AD 73. The group's signature weapon, and namesake, was a type of large dagger known as a sica [2]. By concealing such weapons in their cloaks, Sicarii could covertly approach their targets at public gatherings, strike and thereafter blend in with the crowds to escape undetected. By such actions the Sicarii epitomise modern notions of assassins and assassinations. Bon appétit!

Endnotes:

1. Although we write English using the Latin alphabet, the Romans themselves did not use the letter “J”. Instead they used the letter “I” possibly because it is easier to carve in stone than a cursive “J”; the same argument could be made for “V” and “U”. What is more, in classical Latin “I” was voiced as “Y” in modern English so Caesar’s gens (kin or clan name) was pronounced phonetically as “Yew-lee-oos” rather than “Jew-lee-us”. At some point in the Middle Ages “J” became separated from “I” and likewise “U” from “V”. The alphabet also had the letter “W” (originally a joining of two “V”s) added to represent sounds from the Germanic languages which did not exist in mediæval Latin. It was only after the Renaissance that the convention of treating “I” and “U” as vowels, and “J” and “V” as consonants, become established.

2. The sica is a short sword or large dagger used by ancient Illyrians, Thracians, and Dacians. It is a shorter, one-handed form of the larger, two-handed falx (or rhomphaia). Both versions have a curved blade sharpened on the inside edge and may have derived from an agricultural scythe or sickle. The distinctive shape was designed to stab or slash around the sides of an opponent's shield. The sica was used by the Sicarii in Judaea and in ancient Rome. In gladiatorial combat, the usual opponent of the Thraex, a type of gladiator armed in the Thracian style, was the scutum (large shield) carrying Murmillo. To get around the shield, a weapon such as the sica was both necessary and made the contest more balanced and, presumably, more exciting.

About History: Berserkers

Background

The Viking Age [1], as it is popularly called, is commonly said, in Britain at least, to have begun with the raid on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne on 8th June 793 and ended with the unsuccessful invasion of northern England in September 1066. For roughly three centuries European history was transformed as Norse seafarers, warriors, and merchants left their mark on the mediæval world.

Originating from the Scandinavian regions of present-day Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, the Vikings [2] were masterful shipbuilders and navigators. The shallow draft and versatile design of their longships enabled them to traverse both open seas and rivers, allowing them to penetrate deep into continental Europe, reaching as far as the Mediterranean, the Middle East, and North America. Popular culture tends to focus on their reputation as fearsome raiders, but the Norse (or Rus) were also skilled traders, craftsmen, and settlers. They established trading networks that stretched from the Arctic to Constantinople, dealing in goods such as furs, slaves, ivory, and precious metals. Their settlements grew into significant urban centres, with cities like Dublin, York, and Kyiv owing their development to Scandinavian influence. In many regions, including Britain, Danes, Norwegians and Swedes integrated with local populations, adopting and adapting to local customs while maintaining elements of their Norse culture.

Going berserk!

While this all sounds peaceful and almost idyllic, it was a violent period and the Viking’s formidable reputation as warriors had good reason. Into this arena step the berserkers (Old Norse: berserker, sing. berserkr) of Norse history and mythology. These enigmatic warriors were renowned for fighting in an uncontrollable, trance-like fury known as berserkergang (“berserker rage”). Characterized by superhuman strength, apparent immunity to pain and fire, and a complete dissociation from normal behaviour, berserkers inspired terror in their enemies. Warriors in this state were said to bite their shields, howl like wild animals, and attack friend and foe alike with unstoppable ferocity. Some scholars propose that certain examples of berserker rage had been induced voluntarily by the consumption of drugs, such as hallucinogenic mushrooms, or massive amounts of alcohol. The evidence is scant, and the hypothesis is much debated. Yet, the discovery of seeds belonging to black henbane (Hyoscyamus niger) in a Viking grave near Fyrkat, Denmark in 1977 lends some support to the theory. The intoxication caused by Hyoscyamus niger is similar to the symptoms ascribed to berserkergang suggesting it could have been used to induce their warlike state. Alternatively, epilepsy or mental illness have also been offered as explanations, as has the hypothesis that the physical manifestations of berserker rage was a form of self-induced hysteria.

This may not so far-fetched as warriors have screamed (“howled”?) or yelled at their enemy or crashed weapons against shields to intimidate their opponents while excising their own fear before battle. Consider for example the Māori Haka which, among other ceremonial functions, is popularly associated with intimidating adversaries in preparation for battle [3]. Much like the berserkergang, the “ríastrad” was the battle frenzy that transformed the Irish hero Cú Chulainn into a fearsome warrior. Sometimes translated as “warp spasm”, it contorted Cú Chulainn’s body with rage turning him into an unstoppable force that would kill friend or foe alike.

What’s in a name?

Archaeological evidence and historical accounts, including the sagas and skaldic poetry, describe berserkers fighting without armour. This has led some to translate berserkr as “bare of shirt”, where “shirt” refers to the mail-shirt, or byrnie, popularly worn at the time. However, the name berserkr likely derives from the informal Old Norse word bera (“bear”) and serkr (“shirt”), which has been interpreted as they wore bear or wolf pelts into battle. The association with animal hides connects to a wider belief that berserkers could take on the characteristics of wild animals, particularly bears and wolves, during their frenzied states. Indeed, the Vatnsdæla saga, the Haraldskvæði and the Grettis saga all refer to warriors wearing the skins of wolves called ulfheðnar (“wolf-skin-ers” or possibly “wolf-heathens”; singular ulfheðinn). They are consistently mentioned as a group of berserkers and always presented as the elite following of the first Norwegian king Harald Fairhair. They were said to wear the pelt of a wolf over their chainmail when they entered battle and thus were not “bare of shirt”. Unlike berserker, however, direct references to ulfheðnar are scant.

Berserkers, on the other hand, served important roles in Norse society beyond their battlefield prowess. They often acted as elite guard units for kings and chieftains, with historical accounts mentioning them serving in the personal retinues of various Scandinavian rulers. Their presence was seen as both a military asset and a status symbol, although their unpredictable nature perhaps made them dangerous allies even to their own leaders. Yet, the cultural significance of berserkers extended beyond their military function. In Norse mythology, they were sometimes associated with the cult of Odin, the god of war and death. This connection makes sense given Odin's aspects as a god of battle frenzy and ecstatic states.

Bon appétit!

Reference:

Hansley, C.K., (2019), “The First Reported Contact Between Britain and Vikings”, The Historian’s Hut, available online (accessed 27th May 2025).

Endnotes:

1. The anonymous author of the early sections of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle was the first known source to write about a Viking raid in Britain. In the entry for the Anglo-Saxon year AD 787 (often equated by modern historians to year AD 789), it was reported that three ships of “Northmen” arrived near the Kingdom of Wessex from the so-called “Hæretha Lands,” or the land of robbers. Four years later, in AD 793, Vikings raided the monastery of Lindisfarne in Northumbria, looting the sanctuary and killing some of the monks. This act horrified not only Anglo-Saxon England but European Christendom but presaged many future raids.

2. The term “Viking” is popularly used to denote the people of Denmark, Norway and Sweden during the 8th- to 11th-centuries. To call all these people “Vikings”, however, is a mistake as the name does not really describe the distinct tribes, groups or communities of the Early Mediæval Period. Click here to discover more.

3. Haka have been traditionally performed by both men and women for a variety of social functions within Māori culture. While the war dance (peruperu) holds sway in the popular imagination, haka are also performed to welcome distinguished guests (haka pōwhiri), to acknowledge great achievements, as a way of giving advice or instructions (waiata tohutohu), restoring self-respect (pātere), transmitting social and political messages (haka taparahi, ngeri), or as a fare-well or mourning of the deceased (waiata tangi).

Despite the best efforts of historians, the internet is still awash with misconceptions about the Middle Ages. Many of these ideas were the product of Victorian writers and historians reflecting Medieval life through the lens of their own society, as was done by antiquarians before them and by historians since. However, after more than a century in popular culture, and being taught in schools, these sometimes broad, sweeping assertions remain deeply rooted in everyday consciousness. This is especially so when repeatedly reinforced online, in social media, on television and in the movies. Before addressing one such notion, it is worth remembering that the Mediæval period lasted roughly 1,000 years during which peoples’ lives and experiences varied according to time, place and circumstance. So, with that in mind, did Mediæval people really not bathe?

Common people never wash  

Medieval people cared a lot about hygiene and washed, often daily - even peasants, farmers and the poor. All were advised to change their underwear daily and virtually every household account book records payment to washerwomen. So, while it is true that some sources tell us that people rarely took a bath, but it would be quite wrong to assume they did not wash; taking a bath is not the same as washing. The reason behind the disparity is largely one of logistics and finance. Bathing would have involved filling a big wooden tub with hot water, which meant boiling a large volume of water over an open fire necessitating an expenditure in terms of the fuel burnt and the time taken. The hot water would have to be carried and emptied into the tub, which may have been lined with fabric perhaps to guard against splinters or the rough surface of the wood. The use of scented herbs or soap only added to the financial outlay. Thus, bathing in the Mediaeval period took a great deal of time and effort, was a costly enterprise for most, and nowhere near as easy as it is today. Far easier would be to use less hot water in a bucket, bowl or a sitz bath (otherwise known as a hip bath), a smaller tub that one could sit in but did not allow for complete submersion. Admittedly, firewood still needed to be burnt to heat water, but fires were already burning for much of the day in almost every household for warmth, light and food. Hot water could be produced by simply placing an earthenware jug or metal cauldron next to or over the fire. Alternatively, a far older method of heating rocks in the fireplace which could be place into the water to produce hot water in seconds. So, a big fancy bath was a luxury most could not afford but washing with water from a basin or bucket, bathing in a hip bath or immersing oneself in a pond or river was available to everyone.

Bathhouses

While communal or public bathhouses are synonymous with the ancient Romans, they were also common and very popular in Mediæval Europe. For example, London in the 13th-century is known to have had 13 bathing establishments, albeit far fewer than the 32 recorded in contemporary Paris. In the 14th-century, Augsburg and Vienna had 17 and 29 bathing establishments respectively, while in the following century Nürnberg is noted for having fourteen. That said, it is not always clear what sort of establishments these places were. It is unlikely that taverns with bathing facilities, small bathhouses or private baths were counted in the totals. It is much more likely, however, that the records are concerned with large public bathhouses.

There was a very good reason why the mediæval forerunners of the aforementioned cities, and our modern capitals, were sited near a clean water supply. As the 15th-century architect Leon Battista Alberti noted: “a city required a large amount of water not only for drinking, but also for washing, for gardens, tanners and fullers, and drains, and in case of sudden outbreak of fire, the best should be reserved for drinking, and the remainder distributed according to need” [1].

A plumb job  Water distribution via indoor plumbing was rare in Mediæval Europe, but many royal palaces, monasteries, abbeys and the houses of the wealthy had running water together with the means to remove waste. In Britain, much of the work of the Worshipful Company of Plumbers, founded in the 14th-century, involved installing, repairing and maintaining urban conduit pipes. Bath, Bristol, Coventry, Dartmouth, Exeter, Frome, Gloucester, Lichfield, Lincoln, Ludlow, Newcastle, Petworth, Richmond, Southampton, Stamford, Totnes, and a host of other continental towns and cities all had networks of tunnels and pipes to transport and distribute fresh water. In 1237, for example, the City of London acquired the springs of the Tyburn and constructed a small reservoir to help serve the city with a steady, free-flowing water supply. Eight years later work began on the Great Conduit, a man-made underground channel that brought drinking water from the Tyburn to Cheapside in the City. Londoners were at liberty to draw water, although wardens were appointed to stop them taking too much, prevent the unpermitted taking or diversion of the supply, and to repair pipes. Those with the financial means could request extra pipes be connected to their home or, in the case of brewers, cooks, fishmongers, and so on, their place of work.

Spend a penny  It is fairly evident that Mediæval Europeans wanted to bathe. Most castles, monasteries, and houses of the urban elites had private bathhouses or bathrooms. For the commonfolk, just as it had been for the ancient Romans, with work completed then a trip to the local bathhouse was a social occasion where one could get clean while catching up on the gossip. As further evidence that personal hygiene was taken seriously, in some towns those who did not visit a public bath at least once a week could be fined.

Public bathhouses existed in nearly every mediæval city from the 12th-century onward. Permission to operate a bathhouse was granted by the local authorities, as was the entry price and opening times. Most it seems were open at least three days per week, Saturday being the most popular as it marked the end of the working week, while bathhouses were usually closed on Sunday undoubtedly to encourage church attendance. It seems likely that the remaining days in the week were used for cleaning the bathhouse, getting enough wood for the fires, and producing soap.

In some countries employees might be paid a clothing, drinking and bathing allowance in addition to a salary. In 14th-century Rochsburg, for example, accounts reveal the town’s stonemasons receiving 6 pennies a week as “Badegeld” (bathing money or bath tokens). Records from the city of Bamberg (“Bamberger Baderordnung”) reveal that, in 1480, a peasant had to pay 1 Heller (the smallest denomination coin worth ½ a pfennig) to partake of a steam bath in one of the public bathhouses. Naturally fees varied across the Mediæval period and according to region, individual bathhouses, what service(s) the bather desired, and on their social status. Wealthy citizens of Bamburg paid double (1 Pfennig) for a “schwitzbad” (steam bath), while immersing yourself in a tub (“wannenbad”) cost 6 Pfennige, for example. Overall, visiting a bathhouse was affordable for most people less the extremely impoverished. Even so, measures were taken for the poor to bathe for free on certain days, sponsored by the wealthy or the church. 

More rural communities might not have had ready access to a bathhouse, yet people still washed daily. Bathing and laundry might be conducted in a nearby lake, millpond, stream or river although this was not without risk. In 2015 Professor Suzannah Lipscombe demonstrated how water was one of the “Hidden Killers” in Tudor England causing many an unfortunate drowning (right). Indeed, surviving coroners’ reports from the period suggest it was all too easy to fall into the water with potentially lethal consequences. Some may know or have experienced the effect of cold water immersion causing a completely involuntary sudden intake of air. Were the person to be underwater at that moment, they will breathe in cold water and as it hits the larynx, the resulting spasm will cause the individual to suffocate. Even in relatively mild weather the temperature of a river can induce cold water shock leaving a person gasping for air and hyperventilating. Moreover, water takes heat away from your body twenty-five times more quickly than air at the same temperature. Thus, as body heat is rapidly lost, vasoconstriction narrows or constricts the blood vessels to conserve heat, but this increases blood pressure while decreasing blood flow to specific tissues or organs. If the heart does not receive enough oxygen for the muscles to continue pumping, then cardiac arrest occurs.

As well as the cold and shock it would be difficult to keep one’s balance. Voluminous clothing might drag or snag on submerged objects, and any current might act to further unbalance the person or pull them underwater. Getting out is made even more difficult as woollen clothing becomes waterlogged and heavy, a direct result of wool’s structure having two internal layers. While the outer layer is moisture, dirt and stain repellent, the inner layer is uniquely good at absorbing water. In fact wool can absorb more moisture than any other fibre before becoming saturated - up to 1½ times its dry weight. Clothing becomes much heavier hampering any escape from the river’s clutches.

Extras?  Mediæval bathhouses were not brothels. Once again from Bamberg we know that prostitutes and children who still needed breastfeeding were not allowed in the city’s public bathhouses. Furthermore, travellers visiting a local bathhouse sometimes reported their disappointment at the appropriate and modest behaviour within. Yet, municipal authorities understood, with men and women stripping off to relax with a drink in the hot water of a bath, things could get a little risqué. Accordingly, in many regions there were very strict laws about keeping men and women segregated either in separate bathhouses or at different times of the day. Any man caught sneaking into the women’s bathhouse risked severe punishment. We should remember, and not be drawn into salacious gossip, that Mediæval bathhouses were an important place of social gathering for communities and neighbourhoods. Townsfolk visited them together with their entire family. So, with grandparents, parents, children, infants and even the neighbours all potentially present, having a naughty encounter with someone was not at all easy.

Barring prostitutes from most bathhouses did not necessarily curtail illicit behaviour, however. Human nature has meant that from the earliest times bathhouses and brothels have often been synonymous. Contrary to some popular misconceptions, Mediæval church authorities recognised this but did not object to people bathing. The fear of debauchery and sin encouraged the church’s objections but not an outright ban. While it was true that some may have forsaken bathing and other pleasures as a penance, the church remained keen to ensure its flock was free from sin. In practice this meant the church disapproved of sloth, vanity, and ideas that people should frequent baths for hours purely for pleasure. So, while Pope Gregory the Great (ca. AD  540 – AD 604) recommended Sunday baths, he also warned against them becoming a “time-wasting luxury”. Any supposed “anti-bathing policy” is further undermined when one considers washing has a central role in Christian beliefs. From Mary bathing Jesus to Jesus washing the feet of the poor and saints bathing the sick, keeping clean was a virtue. And if that was not enough, some churches even ran their own bathhouses to keep people from bathing and sinning at the same time.

Hotbed of disease

In 1347, and not for the first time, plague struck Europe. Now known as the Black Death, this bubonic plague pandemic, occurring from 1346 to 1353, was one of the most fatal in human history. As many as 50 million people may have perished; perhaps 50% of Europe's 14th-century population. Unsurprisingly, with a highly contagious disease killing millions, people started to avoid bathhouses. Fearful of getting sick from a touch or even breathing the same air, no one wanted to get in a tub with some strangers or visit other busy public places. When plague struck again, the Dutch philosopher Erasmus wrote in AD 1526:

“Twenty-five years ago, nothing was more fashionable in Brabant than the public baths. Today there are none…the new plague has taught us to avoid them.”

The various waves of plague shifted the focus for hygiene among some people from washing their body to washing their clothes. The fear that hot water would open the skin’s pores and permit infection drove some to wash and bathe less frequently. Greater effort, however, went into changing their underclothes more regularly and washing them routinely. We should not assume that people stopped washing all together - many simply used a fresh cloth and cold water to rub themselves clean. But such a change in behaviour might explain why mention of fully immersive and public bathing waned at this time. It is also possible that awareness of the declining use of bathhouses in the period, coupled with reading how people bathed less often, fuelled the common and persistent misunderstanding that mediæval people were filthy and never washed. 

Soap

Iron Age  No bathing practice would be complete without some form of soap, which had been used in Europe for thousands of years. The Gauls, Germans and other northern European Iron Age tribes are all known to have manufactured and used soap before the Roman era. The Romans themselves eschewed soap in favour of oils to clean their bodies, but they appear to have been very impressed with what they found as they conquered northwestern Europe. According to Aelius Galenus (anglicised as Galen or Galen of Pergamon), a Greek physician, surgeon and philosopher in the Roman Empire (AD 129 to ca. AD  200/ 216), German soap was regarded as the best. Even earlier Gaius Julius Caesar, Gaius Plinius Secundus (Pliny the Elder), Publius Cornelius Tacitus and the Greek physician Aretaeus of Cappadocia all wrote about German tribespeople using soap, bathing and generally caring about their hygiene:

• In Chapter 21 of Book VI of De Bello Gallico, written between 58 and 49 BC, Caesar notes that the Germans “bathe promiscuously in the rivers”.

• Over a century later Pliny the Elder records in Chapter 47 of Book XXVIII of Naturalis Historia (“Natural History”) that: “Soap too, is very useful for this purpose, an invention of the Gauls for giving a reddish tint to the hair. This substance is prepared from tallow [2] and ashes, the best ashes for the purpose being those of the beech and yoke-elm: there are two kinds of it, the hard soap and the liquid, both of them much used by the people of Germany, the men, in particular, more than the women.”

• In Chapter XXII of his work De origine et situ Germanorum (“On the Origin and Situation of the Germans”), written around AD 98, Tacitus provides a general description of the Germanic peoples that includes the observation: “As soon as they wake up, usually late, they wash themselves oftentimes with warm water like those accustomed to a prolonged winter.”

• In Book II of his De curatione diuturnorum morborum (“On the cure of chronic disease”), written ca. 2nd-century AD, Aretaeus of Cappadocia notes “There are many other medicines…of the Celts, which are men called Gauls, those alkaline substances made into balls, with which they cleanse their clothes, called soap, with which it is a very excellent thing to cleanse the body in the bath.”

Pliny the Elder’s comment about soap giving a reddish tint to Gallic hair is probably an example of his misunderstanding or, in true Plinian style, a complete fabrication. The combination of tallow and ash is unlikely to produce any form of hair dye, but it does imply that soap was being used to clean hair. However reliable Pliny might or might not be, it is interesting that he mentions both hard and liquid soaps. Might this suggest different uses? Determining whether soap was being used to cleanse the body or hair, to launder clothing as a degreaser, as a general cleaning agent, or for medical purposes is difficult to establish as the historical sources can be somewhat vague. Moreover, errors in translation and transcription over time can cast a shadow on a manuscript’s reliability. For example, while Zosimos of Panopolis described both soap and the process of making it circa AD 300, most of his work only survives in later translations and compilations meaning we cannot be 100% certain it is indeed Zosimos’ work. Regardless, in typical Roman style, soap was widely traded across the Empire and as already mentioned, that from Germania was considered of uniquely high-quality by scholars in Egypt, Rome, and Palestine.

Iberian Golden Age  The Muslim conquest of the Iberian Peninsula ca. AD 711 to AD 720s, also known as the Arab conquest of Spain, resulted in the end of Christian rule in most of Iberia and the establishment of Muslim Arab-Moorish rule in that territory, which became known as al-Andalus under the Umayyad dynasty. Among the many benefits introduced by the Moors were new types of hard soap of a higher quality. In the very south of Europe, and more so in the Middle East and Northern Africa, soaps with ingredients like olive oil and aromatic herbs soon replaced local versions made with tallow. Initially these oil-based soaps were more expensive because of transporting the ingredients but as trade links stabilised and improved, Europeans quickly started importing the oil to make their own soap. The soap industry became a massive enterprise across Mediæval Europe which soon saw the establishment of Guilds for the skilled men and women involved in its production and trade. Naples had a soap maker’s guild from the 6th-century, and France a century later. At a more local level, many people grew plants like the native European Saponaria officinalis, better known as common Soapwort, in their gardens. The plant contains saponins from which a liquid soap can be produced by soaking the leaves in water.

The authentic Mediæval experience

Having hopefully dispelled some of the myths while showing that personal hygiene was taken seriously, what would a Mediæval person smell like? From Tastes Of History’s plentiful experience delivering our cooking demonstrations, the short answer is…smoke. Every household relied on woodfires to produce warmth, and light in their homes and for cooking. The smoke from such fires is inescapable especially in an era before chimneys were commonplace and where fumes were left to ascend to the roof and filter out through the thatch. Smoke impregnates woollen clothing and hair, even if a head-covering is worn. So, whether someone washed every day or not, used soap, deodorant or perfume (for those who could afford such luxuries), the Mediæval world smelt of smoke.

As for body odour, once again our practical experience has repeatedly shown that linen undergarments are excellent at absorbing and neutralising odours. Linen’s anti-bacterial qualities make it especially good at dealing with sweat, and simply cleaning your body with a linen rag or cloth is also remarkably effective. 

In summary

Throughout history people have taken steps to keep themselves clean and healthy. While fully immersive bathing in a hot tub was far more problematic than now, the average Mediæval person washed daily. From the time of the ancient Romans through the Middle Ages public bathhouses were available, and affordable, in many European towns and cities. Similarly, another myth concerning access to clean water is disproved by the engineering efforts undertaken to supply urban centres with water. Mediæval Europeans made full use of soap, detergents, deodorants and perfumes to ensure their bodies and their clothes smelt clean and fresh. In short, people in the past were much like us, so do not fall for the outdated trope that the Middle Ages was any dirtier and more malodorous than today. Bon appétit!

This article was very much inspired by the work of Jo Hedwig Teeuwisse, The Fake History Hunter. Her book ”Fake History: 101 things that never happened” is a fascinating myth-busting read that debunks 101 things that many people think happened but never did. Her mission to take down fake history and reclaim the truth is humorous, enjoyable and highly recommended reading.

References:

Gaius Julius Caesar, De Bello Gallico, Liber VI, 21, available online (accessed 12th May 2025). 

Gaius Plinius Secundus, Natualis Historia, Liber XXVIII, 47, trans Mayhoff, K.F.T., (1906), Leipzig: Teubner, available online (accessed 12th May 2025).

Publius Cornelius Tacitus, De origine et situ Germanorum, 21, trans. Bozzi, L., (2005), available online (accessed 12th May 2025).

Endnotes:

1. “Did people drink water in the Middle Ages?”, Medievalist.net, available online (accessed 17th April 2021).

Dispelling Some Myths: Witches

In an earlier article we used a common mistake made in dramatic reconstructions, this time in a BBC television documentary series “Lucy Worsley investigates…”, to explain the difference between pillories and stocks. Usefully for the present purpose, the first episode focused on “The Hunt for Witches” and followed the case of Scottish “wise woman” and healer Agnes Sampson. 

The case of Agnes Sampson  Two years after King James VI of Scotland’s mother, Mary Queen of Scots, had been executed another dramatic event deepened the King’s growing obsession with magic and witchcraft. In 1589 he was betrothed to Anne of Denmark, but she almost lost her life in a violent tempest on her voyage across the North Sea to meet her new husband. In an uncharacteristic show of chivalry, James resolved to sail to Denmark and collect her in person. On the royal couple’s return voyage, the Scottish fleet was battered by further storms sinking one of the ships. James immediately placed the blame on witches, claiming that they must have cast evil spells upon his fleet. As soon as he reached Scottish shores, he ordered a witch-hunt on a scale never seen before. No fewer than 70 suspects were rounded up in the coastal Scottish town of North Berwick on suspicion of raising a storm to destroy the King and his new bride. One of those suspects was Agnes Sampson.

So, in 1590, Holyrood Palace became the scene of a fateful meeting between Agnes and King James. The king desired to know if Agnes was a witch and if she had used diabolical powers to try and sink the ship as he and his queen sailed home to Scotland from Denmark. Agnes denied all charges put to her but after she was taken away and tortured, she confessed to meeting the Devil, accepting him as her master, and attended a witches’ sabbath. The King, who would later write his own witch-hunting guide “Daemonologie”, interrogated her again. This time Agnes reputedly told James that she knew what he had said to his wife on their wedding night. Clearly this was not something that Agnes could have known but it was all the evidence needed to prove her a witch. By royal order she was condemned to death. On 28 January 1591 Agnes Sampson was taken to a scaffold on Castlehill, part of the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, where she was garrotted then burnt at the stake.

Myths  Agnes Sampson’s part in the story of the North Berwick witch trials is significant as it highlights many popular myths about witches commonly found in European, and by extension North American, folklore. Asked to imagine a witch most people will probably picture a woman. More than that, she will most likely be old, wearing a pointy hat, riding a broomstick and accompanied by her familiar, a demonic spirit, who might assist her in casting spells. We know from the indictment against her that Agnes was a poor, elderly widow and mother who was respected as a healer within her local community. This article explores these notions to discover just how universal they are and whether there are any myths to be dispelled.

Women only?  Of the 100 suspected witches in the North Berwick trials two are named as Robert Grierson and John Fian, a schoolmaster and scholar in Prestonpans, East Lothian. Although Grierson and Fian are but two examples, a significant minority of those put on trial for witchcraft - an estimated one in four - were indeed men. Those accused were sometimes the target of witch-hunts because they were related to accused women or romantically involved with them. One such example occurred in the Austrian town of Innsbrück in the mid-1480s when a potter was suspected largely because he was the lover of an accused witch, Barbara Selachin.

The aforementioned schoolmaster, John Fian, is an example of a man who fell under suspicion because they were thought to have turned their godly learning to bad ends. It was said that Fian had studied magical texts so he could unlock doors without a key and light candles with his breath. He was also accused of learning love spells and using his literacy skills to record the minutes of satanic meetings. John Fian’s eventual confession to having a compact with the Devil was extracted through torture. According to the English ambassador Robert Bowes, during his execution Fian recanted his confession saying he told those tales by fear of torture and to save his life. Sadly, it did not save him as, like Agnes Sampson, he was strangled and burnt at the stake on Castlehill on 27 January 1591. The cost of his execution was £5 18s 2d.

Old widows?  The stereotypical image of a witch collapses when one discovers that many of those accused were frequently wives and mothers, fathers and sons, with large families. Many were also surprisingly young. A boy of nine, for example, was questioned in Suffolk in the 1640s on suspicion of witchcraft. His fate is unknown, but it is reported that his mother was executed as a witch. Similarly, some 50 years earlier, eighteen-year-old Joan Waterhouse had been tried alongside her mother and a woman who may have been her aunt in Essex in 1566. Joan had confessed to witchcraft but was acquitted possibly because of her age. Significantly, like the nine-year-old boy, these trials reveal the widely held belief that witchcraft was an inherited skill and that witches’ children could not escape indoctrination. In such cases, juries were more likely to show mercy for a first offence. However, in 1730s France, it took a popular outcry to save a young life. Such was the case for a young religious mystic named Marie-Catherine Cadiere sentenced to death for witchcraft against a Jesuit priest. The uproar that followed in her hometown of Toulon against the verdict drove the court to free her.

Familiar story  Along with the pointy hat and broomstick, witches are accompanied by a familiar, a demonic animal or spirit that assists in casting spells. In the popular imagination, the animals are commonly cats and dogs but those accused of practising magic might call upon a whole menagerie of creatures. For example, in 1582 Elizabeth Bennet from Essex confessed she had two familiars: “one called Suckin, being blacke like a Dogge, the other called Lierd, beeing red like a Lion or hare.” Whether we believe that Bennet meant she had both a dog and a cat familiar is uncertain, but some sixty years later when Margaret Wyard was accused of witchcraft in Suffolk, she claimed to have seven imps, including flies, dores, mice and a spider. “Dores” in this instance is short for “dumbledores” or, as we might know them, bumblebees. During examination, purported witches were kept under constant surveillance to see if demonic spirits visited them, and the accused were often “walked” to deny them sleep for days and nights. Sleep deprivation of this sort undoubtedly led to “confessions” during interrogation and the frequent citing of these smaller creatures as familiars. Moreover, any tiny creature venturing near the exhausted prisoner could be identified as a demonic spirit and the tortured suspect could be forcibly encouraged to agree they were devils.

Witch-hunting  Margaret Wyard was one of 68 witches who were hanged in Bury St Edmunds in 1645, all victims of the witch-hunting zeal of Matthew Hopkins and his associate, John Stearne, a similarly fanatical Puritan. Hopkins was the son of the vicar of Great Wenham in Suffolk but chose not to become a minister like his father and brothers. During the English Civil War, he undoubtedly capitalised on the chaos and the genuine fear of devilry at that time to become England's most notorious witch-hunter. Styling himself the “Witchfinder General” - never a formal title - between 1644 and 1646 Hopkins instigated a fourteen month reign of terror, roving the countryside to root out “witches” in exchange for exorbitant fees. His and Stearne’s actions resulted in the execution of some 300 people, and the ruin of many others. About one in ten of his victims were male, and many others were poor widows living on Parish Relief. The pair used unscrupulous methods to extract confessions. Victims were thoroughly searched for witch's marks, said to be supernumerary teats from which imps suckled. Such examinations were a humiliating ordeal for women, since the “marks” were usually found in or on the genitals. It is said Stearne was particularly fond of seeking witch's marks and boasted that 18 of the Bury St. Edmonds witches:

“[A]ll were found by the searchers to have teats or dugs which their imps used to suck…And of these witches some confessed that they have had carnal copulation with the Devil, one of which said that she had conceived twice by him, but as soon as she was delivered of them, they ran away in most horrid, long and ugly shapes.”

According to surviving records, at least 124 men and women in Suffolk were charged with witchcraft, all of whom were tried in Bury St. Edmonds in August of 1645. Most of the “confessions” concerned possession by evil imps, the making of compacts with the Devil, and having carnal relations with the same, the latter being guaranteed to inflame Puritan outrage. Some of these “witches” were even charged with the murder of livestock and people. As for Margaret Wyard, at her trial she confessed the Devil had appeared to her seven years earlier in the likeness of a calf, saying he was her husband. She claimed she would not submit sexually to him until the Devil returned as “a handsome young gentleman” – most likely an example of a victim saying what they thought their accusers wanted to hear to stop further torture.

Denounce your neighbour  In 1582 fourteen women from St Osyth were put on trial in Chelmsford, Essex suspected of witchcraft. The first to be accused was Ursula Kempe, once again a poor woman who struggled to make a living on this occasion as a nursemaid and midwife. Ursula’s tale begins after she had cured the young son of Grace Thurlowe of convulsions by holding his hand and muttering incantations.  Grace was suspicious of witchcraft and thereafter refused to let Ursula nurse her newborn daughter. When later Grace's daughter fell out of bed and broke her neck, suspicion fell upon Ursula. Thurlowe and Kempe quarrelled fiercely, whereupon it is alleged that Ursula threatened Grace Thurlowe with lameness. As it is with such cases, shortly afterward Grace was severely crippled with arthritis and again suspicion fell on Ursula. Interestingly, an alternative account suggests Ursula had treated Grace for her arthritis, but that the latter had refused to pay Ursula’s fee of 12 pence. Presumably Ursula then refused Garce further help, and Grace’s arthritis flared up again. The “bad blood” between the two women was most likely the catalyst for Ursula Kempe being denounced to the authorities and sent for trial in Chelmsford accused of witchcraft.

At the trial the judge, Bryan Darcy, persuaded Ursula 's eight year old son to testify against her. Using children to denounce one or both of their parents was a common tactic employed by the authorities in witch trials. Darcy also persuaded Ursula that he would show clemency if she confessed. She duly did and admitted to having four familiars: two cats, a toad and a lamb. The latter was blamed for the death of the Garce Thurlowe’s baby.

During the trial Ursula named four other St Osyth women as witches: the aforementioned Elizabeth Bennet together with Alice Newman, Alice Hunt and her sister Margery Sammon. Hunt and Sammon were the daughters of “old mother Barnes”, an alleged witch of notorious repute who had bequeathed to them her familiars: “two spirites like Toades, the one called Tom and the other robbyn.” Hoping for mercy from the court the accused in turn named a further nine women: Cicely Celles, Elizabeth Eustace, Agnes Glascock, Margaret Grevell, Annis Herd, Alice Manfield, Joan Pechey, Anne Swallow and Joan Turner. Of the fourteen purported witches, two women were not indicted at all. Somewhat oddly one of these was Margery Sammon who had actually confessed to witchcraft. Two others were imprisoned but after denying the charges of bewitching cattle and two people to death were not indicted and released. Four women were sent to trial, three of whom on charges of bewitching people to death. All four pleaded not guilty and were acquitted. Four others who pleaded not guilty, were tried and convicted, and then reprieved. One of them was Alice Newman, who had been charged with bewitching to death four people plus her husband. Agnes Glascock and Cicely Celles similarly were charged with bewitchment to death. Joan Turner was charged with “bewitchment by over-looking” (using the “evil eye” [1]) and spent a year in prison. The only two hanged were Elizabeth Bennet, charged with killing a man and his wife, and Ursula Kempe. The latter was charged with and confessed to the crimes of bewitching three people to death between 1580 and 1582. Despite his promises, Judge Darcy showed Ursula Kempe no mercy whatsoever.

In league with the Devil?  In contrast to the many Wiccans or those who identify as witches today and follow modern notions of an earlier, supposed pagan religion, Mediæval and Early Modern “witches” were very often fervent churchgoers. This should hardly be surprising given that they lived in a Europe dominated by the Christian church and where belief in God was integral to everyday life. During interrogations many of the accused explained they used prayers in healing spells calling on the help of God, the saints and the Holy Ghost. Some suspects belonged to fundamentalist Christian sects. Rebecca Nurse and Martha Corey convicted of witchcraft in 1692 were among the most pious worshippers at the Congregational Church in Salem, Massachusetts. Somewhat bizarrely, or so it may seem, two Christian ministers, one in Salem and the other, thousands of miles away across the Atlantic Ocean in the English village of Brandeston in Suffolk, were both accused of witchcraft. In the latter case, the vicar John Lowe had been deemed insufficiently puritanical and was charged with only reading state-approved lessons in church. Fortunately (or not) he was able to recite his own burial service before being hanged. While in Salem, the Reverand George Burroughs repeated the Lord’s Prayer – thought impossible for witches – before he too was hanged. It seems that accusations against such good Christians were largely concerned with them not adhering to the same religious teachings as those who suspected them.

Fear and prejudice  One of the most famous witch-hunts in history took place in the aforementioned Salem which, at the time (1692-93) was a small coastal town in colonial Massachusetts. Not all of those accused of witchcraft, however, were colonists. Most famously was Tituba, a native South American woman who had been enslaved in Barbados and transported to Massachusetts by one Samuel Parris, who became minister of Salem village church. While working in the minister’s house she was embroiled in the accusations of witchcraft. It is almost certain that Tituba conformed to her master’s faith yet doubts lingered in the wider community that she was not wholly Christian. Imprisoned for more than a year, she never faced trial. This one instance exemplifies how European settlers associated Native American religion, and that of enslaved Africans, with witchcraft because it did not conform to Christian beliefs. Such prejudices almost certainly were a factor in the accusations of witchcraft levelled against several Sami people - migratory herders living in the Arctic circle - by their Norwegian neighbours. One such Sami woman was Kari Edisdatter who, in 1620, having confessed to meeting the devil in the form of a ghost was burned at the stake.

To conclude  So, there we have it. Contrary to popular belief the heyday for witch-hunts was largely not in the Mediæval period but in the religiously charged atmosphere of 16th- and 17th-century Europe (and North America). Witch-hunts and the resulting interrogations, trials and executions were driven by a genuine fear of devilry during this period. By far women were the majority of victims in a patriarchal society, although men were not immune to accusations. Purported witches were often the poorest in society or marginalised members of a community. Mostly ill-educated they had very little influence over the authorities prosecuting them. Some were clearly the victims of personal rivalries, ignorance and fear, but by the 18th-century rationalism was beginning to hold sway over superstition. Prosecutions and executions for the crime of witchcraft declined in all European countries, and their respective overseas colonies, where previously witch-hunts had taken place. The decline was marked by an increasing reluctance to prosecute witches, the acquittal of many who were tried, the reversal of convictions on appeal, and eventually the repeal of the laws that had authorized prosecutions. Finally, in the UK at least, the Witchcraft Act of 1735 introduced prosecution for fraud rather than for witchcraft since many no longer believed individuals possessed supernatural powers or had genuine traffic with the Devil. Bon appétit!

References:

Borman, T., (2016), “Why was King James VI and I obsessed with witch hunts?”, BBC History Magazine: History Extra, available online (accessed 28 March 2025).

Ferre, L., (2017), “Bury St Edmunds Witches”, Occult World, available online (accessed 26 March 2025).

Ferre, L., (2017), “St Osyth Witches”, Occult World, available online (accessed 27 March 2025).

Gibson, M. (2024), “Five things you (probably) didn’t know about…the history of witchcraft”, BBC History Magazine (May edition), pp. 46-47.

St Oswyth Museum, (2025), “1579 - St Osyth Witches & Witch Trials - St Osyth Museum”, available online (accessed 27 March 2025).

Endnotes:

1. The evil eye is a supernatural belief in a curse brought about by a malevolent glare.

2. Coincidently, radio and television presenter Sian Eleri investigated Helen Duncan’s story in a four part BBC mini-series “Paranormal: Britain’s Last Witch”. It is available on BBC iPlayer.