6 - The Hammer of the Witches

Don't think that witchcraft had an easy time establishing itself as Satan's Number One Secret Weapon, back in the year 1450. It had a very active and endurable rival for that claim in the form of a new and utterly fantastic mechanical device that could only have been concocted by the Devil himself, with all of Hell's minions standing by to help. That thing, which was horrible then and may still be far more horrible today, was a contraption called the printing press.

Until then, books were produced by scribes who laboriously copied them by hand. The mere thought of stamping them out by the hundreds was harder to believe than tales of the witches' sabbat, so it was not surprising that an ignorant and superstitious public would put them in the same category. Witches supposedly had helpers known as "familiars" who were actually demons disguised as animals or other creatures; and that could be why an apprentice in a print shop came to be called a "printer's devil."

Among early examples of the power of the press were certain books attacking and denouncing witchcraft in all its virulent forms. These circulated far wider, faster, and in much greater number than the old handwritten manuscripts. The Malleus Maleficarum was the most important and most popular of these works. Appearing first in 1486, it summed all the known facts and fancies then current regarding witchcraft, handling the subject in such scholarly and authoritative style that it became a manual for witch hunters from then on.

This book was published in dozens of editions in Latin, German, French, Italian and finally English versions, retaining its superior status over a period of two centuries. It was written by two of the most learned men of their day, Jakob Sprenger, Dean of Cologne University, and Prior Heinrich Kramer. Both were inquisitors who had been granted special powers to suppress witchcraft in Northern Germany, where such enormities and abominations had been notoriously rampant due to the laxity and even the possible connivance of some of the local magistrates. So Sprenger and Kramer spelled it all out in Malleus Maleficarum, or Hexen-hammer. The book covered all phases of witchcraft, including the identification of culprits and every stage of procedure to be taken against them.

Modern opinions regarding Malleus Maleficarum are varied indeed. It has been classed as "a very great and very wise book" rating as "the most prominent, the most important, the most authoritative volume in the whole vast literature of witchcraft," and that "from the point of psychology, from the point of jurisprudence, from the point of history, it is supreme."

Other reviewers, while in agreement regarding its importance, are less enthusiastic as to the other claims. One terms the Malleus Maleficarum "the most portentous monument of superstition which the world has produced" and defines Sprenger, its chief author, as "a man of the most dangerous type, an honest fanatic." Another critic regards it as "without question, the most important and most sinister work on demonology ever written," largely on the ground that it "opened the floodgates of inquisitorial hysteria."

Still other opinions categorize Malleus Maleficarum as "a notorious work," or "an enormously interesting and disturbing work," or "one of the most appalling books that has ever been written," or simply "the terrible Malleus Maleficarum." Other critiques are directed more at its context, thereby echoing a summarization which Sir Walter Scott once applied to witchcraft trials in general, namely that "the mode of judicial procedure against witches, and the nature of the evidence admissible, opened a door to accusers and left the accused no chance of escape."

So the best course is to consider the general contents of the highly disputed Malleus Maleficarum and follow with some pointed excerpts from this great-grandaddy of all treatises on witchcraft and let the material speak for itself. Merely remember that it represents propositions that were established about 1480 or perhaps much earlier, but that they carried through almost to modern times and are still accepted in some remote localities today.

The great work is divided into three parts, the first dealing with what the authors regard as the three necessary concomitants of witchcraft — the Devil, a witch and the permission of Almighty God. This is subdivided into lesser parts, covering many phases of witchcraft as accepted at the time, but giving final opinions in cases where there might be any doubt. In so doing, the authors assiduously demolished the arguments of any persons who disagreed with them on even the finest points, thereby setting themselves up as final authorities for all time.

The second part treats the evils wrought by witches and gives instructions on how they may be nullified or neutralized. This consists of two general sections, one covering the operations of the witches themselves; the other, remedies for persons who have been bewitched, as well as counteractive measures against those employed by witches. Each of these parts is divided into lesser sections or chapters.

The third part, which may have been chiefly the work of Kramer, concerns the judicial proceedings as held in both ecclesiastical and civil courts, not only against witches but all heretics as well. However, the emphasis, as would naturally be expected, is heavily on witchcraft, as that was the menace Sprenger and Kramer were assigned to combat. The broader coverage is a tribute to the workings of their keen judicial minds, since they left not the slightest loophole in any procedure they advised.

This third part has three heads: The first deals with such matters as initiating proceedings, the number of witnesses and who may qualify as such. The second goes into matters of the trial, whether a witch is to be imprisoned and the manner of taking her, the appointment of an advocate for the defence, and finally the questioning of the suspect, along with the application of tortures. The third head covers the kinds of sentences, determined by the type and degree of witchcraft involved.

To do even a chapter outline of Malleus Maleficarum would be difficult indeed, for the book is a large one, containing some eighty chapters, or questions, as some of them are termed, and it runs to a total of nearly a quarter-million words. Much of this would also be superfluous where modern readers are concerned, because Sprenger and Kramer were master hands at building up long-winded arguments and theories just for the fun of knocking them down in equally verbose style.

This is no reflection on their ability. Quite to the contrary, they treated the subject skillfully and systematically, apparently proving to their own satisfaction that witches can change themselves into animals and accomplish other wonders with Satan's aid. They speak convincingly of dangers to which they personally were exposed; and they quote witnesses of seemingly unimpeachable character to back up their findings.

Dr. Henry Charles Lea (1825-1909) spent a long lifetime researching and writing about church history in the Middle Ages. Of Sprenger, in particular, Dr. Lea stated:

All his vast experience and wide erudition are brought to the task of proving the reality of witchcraft and the extent of its evils; and further, of instructing the inquisitor how to elude the wiles of Satan and to punish his devotees. He was no vulgar witch finder, hut a man trained in all the learning of the schools. He apparently was not inhumane. In many places he manifests a laudable desire to give the accused the benefit of whatever pleas they might rightfully put forward, but he is so fully convinced of the gigantic character of the evils to be combated, he so thoroughly believes that his tribunal is engaged in a contest with Satan for human souls, that he eagerly justifies every artifice and every cruelty that could be suggested to outwit the adversary on whom fair play would be thrown away.

Like Dr. Lea, another noted writer on witchcraft, Dr. Charles Mackay (1814-1889) saw the dangers that developed from the regular form of trial specified in Malleus Maleficarum. Mackay, elaborating on the previously quoted pithy comment of Sir Walter Scott, had this to say regarding the results of the methods recommended in the Hexenhammer:

The questions, which were always enforced by torture, were of the most absurd and disgusting nature. The inquisitors were required to ask the suspected:

Whether they had midnight meetings with the Devil?
Whether they attended the witches' sabbath on the Brocken?
Whether they had familiar spirits?
Whether they could raise whirlwinds and call down the lightning?
Whether they had sexual intercourse with Satan?

The great resemblance between the confessions of the unhappy victims was regarded as a new proof of the existence of the crime. But this is not astonishing. The same questions from the Malleus Maleficarum were put to them all and torture never failed to educe the answer required by the inquisitor. Numbers of people, whose imaginations were filled with these horrors, went further in the way of confession than even their tormentors anticipated, in the hope that they would thereby be saved from the rack and put out of their misery at once.

Between them Drs. Lea and Mackay gave little consideration to the arguments advanced by Drs. Sprenger and Kramer, treating them as sheer fanaticism. But the authors of Malleus Maleficarum had plenty to say for themselves in their own book:

The judge may punish her (the accused witch) with imprisonment with the following object in view. Let him summon her friends to say that she may escape the death penalty ... if she confesses the truth and urge them to persuade her to do so. We have found that witches have been so strengthened by this advice that they have spat on the ground as if in the Devil's face, saying, "Depart, cursed Devil! I shall do what is just!" and afterwards, they have confessed their crimes.

After that, who wouldn't have? Probably even Dr. Lea and Dr. Mackay would have confessed them, four centuries later, if they'd had any crimes to confess. But let's go back to 1486:

But if, after keeping the accused in suspense, while continually postponing the day of questioning and using other persuasions, the judge should be sure that the accused is denying the truth, let him question her lightly, to confess the truth voluntarily; if she will not, let him order the officers to bind her to some engine of torture and let them obey at once, but not joyfully, rather appearing to be disturbed by their duty.

Then let her be released again at someone's earnest request and taken on one side; and let her again be persuaded; and in persuading her, let her be told that she can escape the death penalty.

That sounds like a trick used in the modern third degree, where the police let up after an intensive questioning and a kindly old officer coaxes a confession from an unwary young crook by promising to let him off lightly if he tells all he knows. In underworld parlance, such a character is called a "Mother Bull"; what the term was back around 1480, Sprenger and Kramer did not specify.

However, they did raise the question of whether it was lawful for a judge to promise the accused her life, in a case where only her confession is needed for her to receive the death sentence.

There, the authors were cagey about speaking for themselves. Instead, they gave opinions existing at the time, one being that if the accused should be a notoriously bad witch and the mistress of other witches, she could be sentenced to life imprisonment on bread and water, provided that she supply evidence leading to the conviction of other witches. The authors hastened to add — and this of their own volition — that the accused should never be told that she was to be imprisoned as described; rather, she should be led to believe that some lesser penalty, such as exile, would be imposed upon her.

Through the opinions of others, the authors blandly point out that some feel that after a witch has been imprisoned in this way, the promise to spare her life should be kept for a specific period, but after that, she should be burned. There was a third opinion, however, that was preferable: the judge could safely promise the accused her life, but in such a manner that he might later disclaim the duty of passing the actual sentence, by delegating that function to some other judge, who presumably would know nothing of the promise, though the authors avoided any mention of that point.

So far, no actual torture was involved, but the same chapter recommended its application when neither threats nor promises could induce a suspected witch to confess. They advised:

While she is being questioned on each point, she should be frequently exposed to torture, beginning with the gentler sort and that there should be no haste in employing graver methods. Meanwhile, the notary should write down all the questions and answers, as well as the modes of torture.

If she confesses under torture, she should be taken elsewhere and questioned again, so that her answers can be recorded as voluntary. If she does not confess under the usual torture, the judge should have other instruments of torture brought in and shown to her, so he can tell her that she will have to endure those if she does not confess.

All this and much, much more from Malleus Maleficarum explains why later writers like Scott and Mackay were not at all amazed by the consistency of the answers given by suspected witches, no matter how outlandish the questions. Whenever judges referred faithfully to the Hexenhammer, which many judges did during the next few centuries, they were sure to come up with stereotyped reports.

A striking feature of Malleus Maleficarum is its blend of advanced psychology with outworn superstition. The authors — probably Sprenger, in particular — were far ahead of their time with certain ideas, yet always ready to fall back on any old, established beliefs that helped to solidify their opinions. They recognized that unrestrained imagination could cause a variety of illusions and might thereby influence a man's sensations, or "sensible powers" as they termed them; and from there they went on to say:

Such a power of imagination can change adjacent bodies, so that a man may walk along a narrow plank down the middle of a street; but if the plank were suspended over deep water, he would not dare to walk along it, because his imagination would impress upon his mind the idea of falling; therefore his body and the power of his limbs would obey his imagination.

This change may be compared to the influence exercised by the eyes of a person who has such influence and so a mental change is brought about although there is no actual bodily change.

That was talking in terms of autosuggestion and hypnotism three or four centuries before such things were really understood; but the authors, true to form, proceeded to make other analogies that they turned into false conclusions:

If it be argued that such a change is caused by a living body, due to the influence of the mind upon some other living body, this answer may be given: In the presence of a murderer, blood flows from the corpse of the person he has slam. Therefore, without any mental powers, bodies can produce wonderful effects; so a living man, if he pass by the corpse of a murdered man, although unaware of the dead body, is often seized with fear.

There are also some things in nature which have certain hidden powers, the reason for which no one knows. Such for example is the lodestone, which attracts iron and steel.

So do women bring about changes in the bodies of others by making use of certain things which are beyond our knowledge, but this is done without aid from the Devil. But because these remedies are mysterious, we can not attribute them to the Devil, as we would attribute evil spells cast by witches.

Moreover, witches use certain images and other amulets which they place under the doorways of houses, or in meadows where animals are herded, or even where men gather; and thus they cast spells over their victims, who have often been known to die.

Many case histories are cited in Malleus Maleficarum to illustrate the ways and wiles of witches, some drawn from older sources, others from the testimony of supposedly reliable witnesses, and still more from the observations or experiences of the authors themselves. On one occasion, Sprenger and Kramer were hastily summoned to investigate a violent hailstorm near Salzburg, where all the fruit, crops and vineyards had been destroyed in a belt one mile wide. After some deliberation, the inquisitors decided it to be a case of witchcraft and rounded up all likely suspects.

Among these were two women named Agnes and Anna, who apparently were not only crones but cronies, so the judges questioned them separately. Agnes gave way under threat of torture and confessed that for eighteen years she had lived in sin with an incubus and that on the day of the storm, a familiar had come to her and told her to take a bowl of water to a field outside the town gate. There, Agnes found the Devil standing opposite a tower. At his direction, she dug a hole, poured the water into it and stirred it with her finger.

Thereupon, the Devil carried the water up into the air, turning it into the hailstorm, which he obligingly delayed just long enough for Agnes to get back to the shelter of her house. Amazed that one witch could have accomplished all that, the judges asked Agnes if she had an accomplice and she promptly named Anna, saying that she had seen her beneath a tree opposite, but did not know what she was doing there.

The judges put the same questions to Anna, but found her reluctant to answer them until she was lifted up by her thumbs, so she was just clear of the ground. Once released from that mild torture, Anna admitted that she, too, had stirred up water at the Devil's instigation and she corroborated all the statements that Agnes had made. They were both burned the next day.

Agnes commended herself to God, saying she would die with a willing heart to escape the tortures of the Devil, but Anna scoffed at her for that. The judges, thorough as usual, checked into Anna's refusal to repent and found that she had been living with an incubus for a full twenty years and had done far more harm to men, cattle and crops, then Agnes had.

The most powerful class of witches, according to Malleus Maleficarum consists of those who, against every instinct of human nature, are in the habit of devouring the children of their own species. In addition to raising hailstorms, tempests and lightning, as well as causing sterility in men and animals, they offer to devils the children whom they do not devour.

These monstrous creatures could also throw children into streams when no one was in sight; make horses go mad under their riders; they were able to transport themselves from one place to another, either in body or in imagination; they could prevent judges from deciding against them; they could keep silent under torture and cause others to do the same; they could turn minds to love or hatred; they were able to bewitch animals or men with a mere glance; and they had the power to see distant things as though they were present, as well as foretelling the future.

As part of their pact with the Devil, such witches often brought somewhat less capable novices to him for initiation into the cult, thus greatly increasing the number of witches. When Sprenger and Kramer questioned a young girl in a town near Basle, she told them that she had often been transported by night with her aunt over great distances, sometimes as far as from Strasbourg to Cologne.

When asked whether they could be transported only in imagination or actually in the body, she replied that it was possible both ways. Flying ointment was often needed to make a trip in person, but the devils, if properly called upon, would supply a bluish vapor through which the distant meeting could be viewed as clearly as if the witch had traveled to the scene. Unfortunately, the young witch's aunt could not be brought in to corroborate this testimony, because the law had caught up with her in Strasbourg and she had been burned there.

Other cases of transvection, or aerial flight, were also cited in Malleus Maleficarum to prove that the Devil could transport people bodily, either by an invisible force, or by providing strange creatures to carry them through the air. Those creatures were actually lesser demons in disguise, tying in with the common belief in "familiars."

The authors of Malleus Maleficarum went into explicit details involving a case of witchcraft in a town near Strasbourg, where a workman was chopping wood when three large cats sprang upon him in quick succession, clawing him furiously. He managed to drive them off by beating one on the head, another on the back and the third on the legs. An hour later, two officers arrived and forced the workman to accompany them to a magistrate, who summarily threw him in jail without a hearing.

Three days later, he was tried on the charge of having entered a wealthy home and beaten three respectable matrons of the town so soundly that they were still incapacitated. The workman was able to prove, however, that he could not have left his premises long enough to be culpable, so when he told about the cats, the amazed magistrates decided that it must have been the work of the Devil.

In analyzing this, Sprenger and Kramer took the attitude that the three women were witches who were transformed into cats at the Devil's instigation. Perhaps the most regrettable feature of this case was that the magistrates apparently were too faint-hearted to charge the wealthy matrons with witchcraft, even with all the indisputable logic of the Sprenger-Kramer team at their disposal.

Bewitchment of cattle is also covered in Malleus Maleficarum. One popular method is described as follows: The witch places a milking stool and pail in a corner of her house and sticks a knife at an angle in the wall above it. She then calls upon her familiar and tells him that she wants the milk from some neighbor's cow. While the Devil takes the milk from the cow, the witch acts as though milking the knife and the actual milk flows from the knife into the pail.

Such practices could carry an insidious aftermath, according to Malleus Maleficarum, which states that many women whose cows have been deprived of milk have consulted with suspected witches and have received remedies from them, but only by giving some small favor in return. Such favors were invariably of an irreverent or sacrilegious sort, thus paving the way toward the personal perdition of anyone who acquiesced.

In all, Malleus Maleficarum is a most illuminating work, deserving of all that has been said of it; and more, much more. To class it as the "Hammer of the Witches," is mild, indeed. The term "sledgehammer" would have been more appropriate, for it left its impact not only upon its own generation, but upon many more to follow. So the proper process is to keep its priceless precepts constantly in mind, as we move onward to our more — or less — enlightened era.