The story of “Whipping Tom”, a 17th-century pervert who lurked in the dim alleys of London and attacked women, has had its fair share of internet attention in recent years, often as a humorous historical tidbit. Upon closer inspection, however, the case transforms into something much darker than a silly anecdote.
The most common narrative of “Whipping Tom” online is simply that in 1681 there was a man who would sneak up on women at night, spank them with a pole while crying “Spanko!” and disappear before any authorities could apprehend him. Usually shared as a humorous historical anecdote, the scene is certainly a strange one. Of course, the actions described amount to sexual assault and therefore it’s interesting to wonder whether such a story would be presented as “funny” if it had occurred only a few years ago, rather than over 300. This in itself justifies some uncomfortable introspection and is an interesting example of the passage of time lessening the perceived seriousness of a crime.
In any case, the commonly circulated account is over-simplified and not entirely accurate. For a start, the alleged cry of “Spanko!” from the attacker, which is the comedic crux of the entire affair, is based—as far as I can tell—from a 1681 publication entitled Whipping Tom Brought to light, and exposed to View. Describing the first crime committed by Whipping Tom, the anonymous author notes:
for some weeks past, [he] has lurked about in Alleys and Courts […] and at unawares seazes upon such as he can conveniently light on, and turning them up as nimble as an Eel, makes their Butt ends Cry Spanko;
Despite initially decrying Whipping Tom’s actions as ‘barbarous and shameful’, the publication purposely tries to be humorous, and is certainly a testament to misogynistic contemporary social attitudes, but two things are of note. Firstly, the crying of “Spanko”, which is a detail included in nearly all online references to Whipping Tom, is only recorded in a single instance, not “commonly” or “occasionally” as is often claimed online. Secondly, the wording doesn’t necessarily justify the view that it is Tom crying “Spanko” but rather implies that the ‘butt end’ is crying out. I understand this is a weird-sounding interpretation, and I certainly could be wrong, but the implication could be that their buttocks are literally crying out that they are being spanked (a strange sort of personification but one which is not entirely untypical of 17th-century popular literature) or that the ‘butt ends cry Spanko’ in the sense that the noise emitted is very loud, making Spanko an onomatopoeia. Even if the wording clearly suggested Tom was crying “Spanko!”—and even if the text implied this was regularly the case—it’s probably safest to doubt the truth of such a claim given the source’s deliberately humorous depiction of the crimes.
Unfortunately for Tom’s victims, the trivialisation of his attacks is not a recent phenomenon. A 1684 ballad recounting his ‘strange adventures’ refers to his crimes as ‘the females plague’—which accurately reflects the fact that contemporary women did fear him—but undercuts any genuine sympathy through attempts at humour. ‘Then Females ‘ware how late you stray,/Lest Whipping-Tom your Buttocks pay’, muses the anonymous balladeer. The ballad is also evidence that Whipping Tom had transcended the 1681 case (and it’s probable the name existed prior to that year anyway) and had taken on a more general meaning in folklore—the most obvious comparison would be “Peeping Tom”. An undated ballad possibly printed before 1681 refers to a “Whipping Tom” who attacks an unsuspecting woman, the message being that women should ‘beware who you do trust’.
In reality, the 1681 Whipping Tom’s attacks could be quite brutal. Tom acted ‘with great speed and violence’ and the women of London were so afraid that they ‘dare[d] not go abroad after the Shops are shut up’, armed themselves with ‘Penknives, sharp Bodkins, Sizzars, and the like’ for self-defence, and some men even dressed as women to try and lure Tom into attacking them (with the hope of overpowering him) but this was to no avail. This inability to catch him—until a man was eventually apprehended—led to some claiming that he was a spirit. Unfortunately, contemporary sources often treated the whole thing comically, so it is difficult to come to terms with the seriousness of the crimes from reading the literature produced at the time. The wording is also one with which a modern reader would be unfamiliar, so when the author of the 1681 account talks of Whipping Tom’s ‘many other Pranks’, a modern reader might assume that the attacks were simply practical jokes, but in fact the word’s contemporary meaning was more serious, describing an evil deed (a 1677 pamphlet describes the ‘notorious pranks’ for which the thief Thomas Sadler was hanged). With this in mind, the idea that Whipping Tom was just a weirdo who ran around at night, spanking women and running off is clearly a huge understatement.
With the recent abduction and murder of Sarah Everard, a 33-year-old woman, in London, more thought has been given to the safety of women walking alone at night. I did not write this with her explicitly in mind but the connection is too obvious to ignore and perhaps some part of a much wider problem—however small that part may be—can be ascertained through the way in which violent attacks on women in 1681 were not only trivialised at the time but continue to be viewed comedically to this day, with the character of Whipping Tom often viewed as a harmless eccentric at best and romanticized as a sort of everyman hero at worst.
Early Modern Scribbling 