Der Hexenjäger

(The Witch Hunter)

Sorcery:

An alliance with the Devil with the aim of doing mischief with his help and through the use of cryptic devices and procedures.

“I never liked that Miller Schüler; Never trusted him. Three whole sacks of grain to yield but one sack of flour? Where does all that grain go? He fills his coffers by cheating us.”

“But he lets you stand by and watch as the wheel grinds. How can he be cheating you?”

“I don’t know how he does it. Sorcery, maybe.”

And so the rumors begin.

“He fills his coffers by having the only mill the Baron allows us to use,” another man notes.

“I was travelling past the mill the other day when my mare reared up and refused to go on,” relates a fourth, “It took a good ten minutes to calm her down so I could continue on my way. Just as I started off again I saw the miller’s wife standing at the door watching me.”

“You’ll be lucky if your mare lives,” observes a fifth man, “I’ve heard that woman can put a hex on that’ll kill an animal right quick.”

“Herr Müller’s horse died because of her,” says another man by way of confirmation. The others raise their eyebrows waiting for more. The man continues, “He argued with her husband about the grinding price. Fräu Schüler threw some flour at his horse as he rode off and no sooner had he reached home when the poor creature fell down dead.”

And so the rumors spread.

Not all babies are born. It’s an unfortunate fact of life that some die trying. In such cases the midwife is eyed with suspicion for it is well known that the hands of unbaptized infants are used in witchcraft. Dried and ground into powder, they are mixed with other such ingredients and used to cause illness and even death in animals and humans alike. If a bit of the potion is planted in a field, nothing will grow there. If mixed with flour, no one who eats bread baked from it is safe. This is duly noted when Fräu Schüler—the miller’s wife—loses her baby during childbirth.

Panic might have set in, but there happens to be in Lindheim in 1662 a professional “Witchfinder General”. Herr Geiss had been appointed chief magistrate by Baron Oynhausen a year earlier and has been successfully prosecuting the witches of the town ever since. If Fräu Schüler’s midwife is guilty of practicing that craft he will find out.

So the people make their suspicions known to the witch hunter who causes the unfortunate midwife to be apprehended and brought to the “Witches’ Tower” for interrogation.

Of course she is not a witch.

But a jury of women are instructed to shave her head and all the hair on her body and search her for the “Devil’s Mark”. In fact the unblemished maiden has no such mark. “She must not be a witch,” the women conclude.

Indeed, this is proof that she is a witch and a witch of the highest order. The Devil has no need to mark those followers of whose loyalty he is absolutely certain.

Still, she maintains her innocence.

Of course she does. She must become acquainted with the strappado, an instrument of torture. The ironmaster ties her hands behind her back. She is shown a hook, a rope, and a pulley anchored to the ceiling. Will she confess? No? The hook is attached to her bound hands. The rope is looped through the hook, run up over the pulley and wrapped around a pipe with a wheel on it. Every turn of the wheel will tighten the rope, raising her arms higher behind her back. The wheel is turned. “Will you confess?” “No?” Excrutiating pain ensues when her shoulders are pulled backward in their sockets as the wheel is turned again and again until she is lifted bodily from the floor, hanging in the air supported only by her arms. “Confess?” “No?”

She is lowered. A 50-pound weight is attached to her feet and she is hoisted up again. Limbs are dislocated now. “Are you in league with the Devil?”

She must be because she does not speak. She does not confess.

It is late. She is returned to her cell in the tower where she is chained to the wall. Her torture will resume in the morning.

The magistrates argue. “A person who is tortured but doesn’t confess can’t be tortured again without new evidence. There cannot be a repetition of her torture,” one points out vehemently.

“It is not a repetition,” Herr Geiss replies in his characteristic matter-of-fact tone. “It is merely a continuation.”

This explanation satisfies the group.

Morning arrives and the victim is fetched from her cell and brought before the inquisitors, her arms bruised and swollen, her voice trembling with terror. She still refuses to confess. The implements of torture are applied. Broken limbs are wrenched once again as agony rips through her body. She breaks, as they all do eventually.

She affirms all the accusations that they have been hurling at her since the day before. “Yes, yes, witchcraft, yes. The Devil did come, yes. Infants’ hands? Yes, yes, the child’s body was cut up and the hands taken.”

But for what purpose? “Did you cause horses and cattle to die?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Did you cause people to become ill?”

“Yes, yes, very sick.”

“Did you cause fields to dry up and not yield grain?”

“Yes, yes, many times, many fields.”

So she is a witch after all. They had known that. What they want now are names. Every witch runs with accomplices. Who are they?

A threat of renewed torture brings forth a name. No good—that person is known to have died. That will not satisfy the inquisitors. The ironmaster approaches with the rope. More names come, six in all.

The body of the child is exhumed—and found to have its hands intact! There they are as complete and undamaged as the rest of the little corpse.

It does not matter. If the infant appears to have hands it is clearly the work of the Devil who is trying to save his follower, the sorceress. The inquisitors have a confession. The law states: “Anyone who does harm or injury to others by sorcery shall be punished by death and such punishment shall be carried out by fire.”

A priest comes to her in the cell. He sprinkles her with holy water. He has come to hear the confession of her sins.

“Oh, Father! I cannot go to God with a lie upon my lips! I told them I was a witch but I am no such thing. They hurt me so; I would have told them anything.”

The good priest is faced with a dilemma. A person who recants her confession cannot be executed on the basis of that confession. Her revelation does have the protection of the sacred sacrament and needn’t be revealed to the authorities. Still, does he not have a moral obligation to save her life? Alas, no. He knows all too well what the result of that attempt would be. The magistrates would renew their interrogation and the poor girl would be subjected to torture once again. The end would be the same—the pain causing her to admit to witchcraft—she would end up right back here facing death. Why cause the creature further suffering? The priest keeps his secret.

The sentence is indeed carried out. But the witch hunter is not finished.

Herr Geiss has six new names. The accused are summarily picked up and carted off to the Witches’ Tower where they undergo treatment such as that already described. Inevitably there are confessions which lead to even more accusations. These six yield fourteen more names. Fourteen more people are abducted from their homes by the authorities and dragged away as their families look on in horror.

New rounds of interrogation under torture take place even as the ground smolders from previous burnings. Finally a name—the name for which Geiss has been waiting—is uttered. Martha Schüler, the miller’s wife. Now he is getting somewhere. He suspected that she had been involved in the death of her child. Now a confessed witch has confirmed those suspicions.

Authorities come to the mill. Fräu Schüler protests her innocence. Of course she does. They all do. Her husband expresses outrage. So what. The men are unmoved. She has been accused of practicing sorcery and off she must go. But if she is a witch, why does she allow herself to be taken? If she can cause illness and death, why does she not cast a spell upon her captors? Because they are righteous and pious men who represent civil authority. Witches have no power once they are in the company of such men. Fräu Schüler is taken to the tower and tortured in the usual way. She confesses as we may have expected she would.

In the morning, though, she does something unexpected. She recants her confession. It was forced out of her, she says, and she now defiantly denies it all.

Her torture is renewed with great vigor. Again and again she is hoisted into the air by the strappado. What gives her the strength to resist? Surely the Devil. She must be one of his favorites. But why, then, does he allow her to undergo such an ordeal? Because it is his very nature to mistreat his subjects. He mocks the very people who are loyal to him.

Finally, finally, the poor broken soul relents. The torture has nearly killed her, but luckily, she has admitted her crime while there was still time to do so. And much to the pleasure of Herr Geiss, she has implicated her husband. If he confesses as well, Geiss will be allowed to confiscate the mill, a fine piece of property indeed.

But Herr Schüler is not at home. He has ridden with great haste to Würzburg to seek help from the Dean of the Cathedral. Surely he can put a stop to the madness happening in Lindheim.

The Dean listens attentively to the miller and gives him a letter, the effect of which will at least put the investigation on hold until he has had time to study the matter more thoroughly.

Upon presenting the letter, however, Schüler is told that the magistrates believe it to be a forgery. He is further informed that his wife has exposed him as a witch and finds himself a prisoner in the tower.

Under torture he confesses. And like his wife before him, he recants. He is tortured again. He confesses again. He recants again.

Preparations are being made to torture him yet a third time. But, the six men we met at the beginning of our story notwithstanding, Johann Schüler is well liked and has many friends in town. Some of them come to his rescue and with their help he escapes from the tower along with a few others.

With more help, the escapees make their way to the Supreme Court in Speyer where the magistrates are appalled at their condition and outraged at the treatment of the women. A cease-and-desist order is immediately drawn up and dispached to Geiss at Lindheim.

Too late, however, to save Fräu Schüler, the twenty-second person to be burned at the stake as a result of the investigation into the death of her baby; The twenty-second victim of this witch hunt.

By this time, though, the townspeople have had enough of this nonsense. They have become angry and upon Herr Schüler’s return from Speyer they rise up against Geiss who is forced to flee for his life. He seeks the protection of Baron Oynhausen but is met with an icy glare for the Baron has heard of the persecution of the miller and his wife. He expresses his displeasure by stripping Geiss of his appointment and all of his holdings, and running him out of town.

With dismay the witch hunter complains to all who will listen, “I was only doing my duty.”