witches if they will. But surely the scholar and historian, the professed students of the subject, these at any rate should not follow the ignorant to do ill, seemingly because they are loath to be at the labour of controverting a popular and fast-grounded, if erroneous, opinion.
Yet in order to justify themselves they will quote the case of Jane Lakeland who in 1645 was burned at Ipswich, as they say, for sorcery. However, there is more in this particular example than readily appears. Jane Lakeland was charged with witchcraft, and she would, since the accusation was proven, doubtless have been hanged. The particular malice of her guilt lay in another direction. She had killed her husband, by her charms, it was averred. Now for a woman to commit either high treason (any attempt, direct or indirect, upon the life of the sovran) or petty treason (the murder of a husband by a wife, the murder of a master or mistress by a servant) was punished with the penalty of death at the stake.[1] It was indifferent whether Jane Lakeland had killed her husband by an evil spell or by poison or by steel; the crime constituted petty treason, and accordingly she was burned. So in the same way, in the reign of Henry VI, Margery Jourdemain was burned at Smithfield for high treason, which, as it happened, was in this instance complicated with sorcery. On a charge of sorcery alone, as we have seen, she had some years before easily escaped punishment. It may be remarked that Bishop Hutchinson notes: “About this time Jane Lakeland was either hanged or burned at Ipswich.” Evidently there was some
- ↑ This penalty remained in force until June 5th, 1790, when by 30 George III, c. 48 (1790), it was provided that women under this sentence should be hanged. For an account of the whole question see my Geography of Witchcraft, pp. 155–7.
