Part 42

With regard to the number of victims, even sober historians, such as Soldan, speak of millions, but if we take three-quarters of a million for the two centuries 1500-1700, it will give a rate of ten executions daily, at least eight of which were judicial murders.

Even more pathetic than the notice of 800 condemned in one body by the senate of Savoy are the long lists of yearly executions preserved in the fragmentary records of small towns and villages. Thus at Meiningen, between 1610-31 and 1656-85, 106 suffered--in 1610 three, 1611 twenty-two, 1612 four, &c. &c., the intervening records being omitted owing to war. Similar notices have survived at Waldsee, Thun in Alsace, and many other hamlets, where through a long series of years we read of one to twenty persons burnt annually, some of them being previously ‘torn with red-hot pincers’.

At Würzburg the Prince-bishop, Philip of Ehrenberg, is said to have burnt 900 in five years (1627-31), and we have terrible lists of twenty-nine of the burnings, almost all of which include young children. Here are two of them:

‘In the thirteenth burning, four persons: the old court smith, an old woman, a little girl of nine or ten years, a younger girl her sister.’

‘In the twentieth burning, six persons: Babelin Goebel, the prettiest girl in Würzburg; a student in the fifth form who knew many languages and was an excellent musician, instrumental and vocal; two boys from the new minster, twelve years old; Babel Stepper’s daughter; the caretaker on the bridge.’

At Bamberg the Prince-bishop, John George, 1625-30, burnt at least 600 persons, and his predecessors had been hardly less vigorous witch-hunters. He was ably seconded by his suffragan, Bishop Förner, and two doctors of law, Braun and Kötzendörffer, who besides the ordinary torture implements, salt fish and quicklime baths, found a so-called prayer stool or bench covered with spikes, on which the victim was forced to kneel, and a cage with a sharp ridged floor on which he could not stand, sit, or lie without torment, of great value in extorting confessions. The record of their deeds has been published by Dr. F. Leitschuh, librarian of Bamberg, and contains, among other cases, that of the Burgomaster, John Junius, which throws more light on the nature of the witch trials than do volumes of second-hand history.

John Junius, a man universally respected, had been five times Burgomaster of Bamberg, and held that office in June 1628, when he was arrested on a charge of sorcery. He protested his innocence though six witnesses declared, under torture, that they had seen him at the witch dances. On June 30 he endured the torment of the thumb-screws and leg-crushers (Spanish boots) without confession. Then they stuck pins in him and found a ‘devil’s mark’, and finally drew him up with his arms twisted backwards, but he would admit nothing. Next day, however, when threatened with a repetition of the torture, he broke down, made the usual confession (including intercourse with a female demon who turned into a he-goat), and denounced twenty-seven persons whose names and addresses are given. He was condemned to be beheaded and burnt, but before his death wrote the following letter to his daughter:

‘Many hundred thousand good-nights, my dearest daughter Veronica! Guiltless was I taken to prison, guiltless have I been tortured, guiltless I must die. For whoever comes here must either be a sorcerer, or is tortured until (God pity him) he makes up a confession of sorcery out of his head. I’ll tell you how I fared. When I was questioned the first time, there were present Dr. Braun, Dr. Kötzendörffer, and two strangers. Dr. Braun asked me, “Friend, how came you hither?” I answered, “Through lies and misfortune.” “Hear you,” said he, “you’re a sorcerer. Confess it willingly or we’ll bring witnesses and the executioner to you.” I said, “I am no sorcerer. I have a clear conscience on this matter, and care not for a thousand witnesses, but am ready to hear them.” Then the chancellor’s son, Dr. Haan, was brought out. I asked, “Herr Doctor, what do you know of me? I never had anything to do with you, good or bad.” He answered, “Sir, it is a judgement matter, excuse me for witnessing against you. I saw you at the dances.” “Yes, but how?” He did not know. Then I asked the commissioners to put him on oath, and examine him properly. “The thing is not to be arranged as you want it,” said Dr. Braun; “it is enough that he saw you.” I said, “What sort of witness is that? If things are so managed, you are as little safe as I or any other honourable person.” Next came the chancellor and said the same as his son. He had seen me, but had not looked carefully to see who I was. Then Elsa Hopffen. She had seen me dancing on Haupt’s moor. Then came the executioner and put on the thumb-screws, my hands being tied together, so that the blood spurted from under the nails, and I cannot use my hands these four weeks, as you may see by this writing. Then they tied my hands behind and drew me up. I thought heaven and earth were disappearing. Eight times they drew me up and let me fall so that I suffered horrible agony. All which time I was stark naked, for they had me stripped.

‘But our Lord God helped me, and I said to them, “God forgive you for treating an innocent man like this; you want not only to destroy body and soul, but also to get the goods and chattels.” [At Bamberg, two-thirds of the property of convicted sorcerers went to the bishop, and the rest to the inquisitors.] “You’re a rascal,” said Dr. Braun. I replied, “I am no rascal, but as respectable as any of you; but if things go on like this, no respectable man in Bamberg will be safe, you as little as I or another.” The doctor said he had no dealings with the devil. I said, “Nor have I. Your false witnesses are the devils, your horrible tortures. You let no one go, even though he has endured all your torments.”

‘It was Friday, 30th June, that, with God’s help, I endured these tortures. I have ever since been unable to put my clothes on or use my hands, besides the other pains I had to suffer innocently.

‘When the executioner took me back to prison, he said to me, “Sir, for God’s sake confess something, whether true or not. Think a little. You can’t stand the tortures they’ll inflict on you, and even if you could you wouldn’t escape, though you were a count, but they’ll go through them again and again and never leave you till you say you are a sorcerer, as may be seen by all their judgements, for all end alike.” Another came and said the bishop had determined to make an example of me which would astonish people, and begged me for God’s sake to make up something, for I should not escape even though I were innocent, and so said Neudecker and others.

‘Then I asked to see a priest, but could not get one.... And then this is my confession as follows, but all of it lies.

‘Here follows, dearest child, what I confessed that I might escape the great torments and agonies, for I could not have endured them any longer. This is my confession, nothing but lies, that I had to make on threat of still greater tortures, and for which I must die.

‘“I went into my field, and sat down there in great melancholy, when a peasant girl came to me and said, ‘Sir, what is the matter? Why are you so sorrowful?’ I said I did not know, and then she sat down close to me, and suddenly changed into a he-goat and said, ‘Now you know with whom you have to do.’ He took me by the throat and said, ‘You must be mine, or I’ll kill you.’ Then I said, ‘God forbid.’ Then he vanished and came back with two women and three men; bade me deny God, and I did so, denied God and the heavenly host. Then he baptized me and the two women were sponsors; gave me a ducat, which turned into a potsherd.”

‘Now I thought I had got it over, but they brought in the executioner, and asked where I went to the witch dances. I did not know what to say, but remembered that the chancellor and his son and Elsa Hopffen had mentioned Haupt’s moor and other places, so I said the same. Then I was asked whom I had seen there. Replied I did not recognize any. “You old rascal, I must get the executioner to you. Was the chancellor there?” Said “Yes.” “Who else?” “I recognized none.” Then he said, “Take street by street, beginning from the market.” Then I had to name some persons. Then Long Street. I knew nobody; had to name eight persons.... Did I know any one in the castle? I must speak out boldly whoever it was. So they took me through all the streets till I could and would say no more. Then they gave me to the executioner to strip, shave off my hair, and torture me again. “The rascal knows a man in the market-place, goes about with him daily, and won’t name him.” They meant Dietmeyer, so I had to name him.

‘Next they asked what evil I had done. I replied, “None.” The devil bade me to, and beat me when I refused. “Put the rascal on the rack.” So I said I was told to murder my children but killed a horse instead. That wasn’t enough for them. I had also taken a sacramental wafer and buried it. When I said this they left me in peace.

‘There, dearest child, you have all my confession, for which I must die, and it is nothing but lies and made-up things, so God help me. For I had to say all this for fear of the tortures threatened me, besides all those I had gone through. For they go on torturing till one confesses something; be he as pious as he will, he must be a sorcerer. No one escapes, though he were a count. And if God does not interfere, all our friends and relations will be burnt, for each has to confess as I had.

‘Dearest child, I know you are pious as I, but you have already had some trouble, and if I may advise, you had better take what money there is and go on a pilgrimage for six months, or somewhere where you can stay for a time outside the diocese till one sees what will happen. Many honourable men and women in Bamberg go to church and about their business, do no evil, and have clear consciences as I hitherto, as you know, yet they come to the witch prison, and if they have a tongue to confess, confess they must, true or not.

‘Neudecker, the chancellor, his son, Candelgiesser, Hofmeister’s daughter, and Elsa Hopffen all denounced me at once. I had no chance. Many are in the same case, and many more will be, unless God intervenes.

‘Dear child, keep this letter secret so that nobody sees it, or I shall be horribly tortured and the gaoler will lose his head, so strict is the rule against it. You may let Cousin Stamer read it quickly in private. He will keep it secret. Dear child, give this man a thaler.

‘I have taken some days to write this. Both my hands are lamed. I am in a sad state altogether. I entreat you by the last judgement, keep this letter secret, and pray for me after my death as for your martyred father ... but take care no one hears of this letter. Tell Anna Maria to pray for me too. You may take oath for me that I am no sorcerer, but a martyr.

‘Good-night, for your father, John Junius, will see you never more.

24th July, 1628.’

On the margin is written:

‘Dear child, six denounced me: the chancellor, his son, Neudecker, Zaner, Ursula Hoffmaister, and Elsa Hopffen, all falsely and on compulsion as they all confessed. They begged my pardon for God’s sake before they were executed. They said they knew nothing of me but what was good and loving. They were obliged to name me, as I should find out myself. I cannot have a priest, so take heed of what I have written, and keep this letter secret.’

The letter is still preserved, with its crippled handwriting, in the library at Bamberg. This case is beyond comment. It is like the trial of Faithful at Vanity Fair, but with rack and thumb-screw in place of a jury. Yet it is but a moderate sample of those outrages on justice and humanity called witch trials. Men rarely held out long, but, did space permit, we might tell stories of many heroic women who endured ten, twenty, even fifty repetitions of torture, till they died on the rack or in the dungeon rather than falsely accuse themselves or their neighbours.

For when once arrested, the victim had small hope of acquittal, and in the most favourable cases, when there was no external evidence, and no amount of torture could induce a ‘confession’, the accused was sent back friendless and crippled to her home, which she was forbidden to leave, having first sworn to have no more dealings with the devil, and to take no proceedings against her accusers. To acquit her would imply that an innocent person had been tortured, a thing naturally repugnant to the tender consciences of the inquisitors.

Nor was the mania confined to any special class. Protestants vied with Catholics, and town councils with bishops in cruelty and injustice. At Nördlingen they had a special set of torture instruments which the Protestant town council lent to neighbouring district authorities, with the pious observation that ‘by these means, and more especially by the thumb-screw, God has often been graciously pleased to reveal the truth, if not at first, at any rate at the last’.