Papal Pest Control At The River Adige

In The Malleus Maleficarum (published 1487), the text’s authors informed readers, “There is a common report current in the districts of the River Etsch, as also in other places, that by the permission of God a swarm of locusts came and devoured all the vines, green leaves and crops” (Part II. Qn 2. Ch 1). As the quote described, the Italian lands around the River Etsch (more commonly known as the Adige River) reportedly suffered a plague of locusts on a biblical scale. Inhabited districts around the river were in such danger of famine that the Catholic Church felt it had to get involved to defeat the army of diabolical insects.

In order to solve the locust problem, Rome allegedly sent a high-ranking holy man to the region. The clergyman, whose name was kept anonymous in the Malleus Maleficarum, allegedly could perform special miracles connected in some way or other to the Keys of Heaven (or Saint Peter), a central symbol in the imagery of the Catholic Church.  As the story goes, the unnamed priest formulated a plan to rid the Adige River region of locusts by carrying out a complex ceremony that combined the might of the Keys, the Papal power of excommunication, and the rite of exorcism, all amplified by certain chants. According to The Malleus Maleficarum, the locusts “were suddenly put to flight and dispersed by means of this kind of excommunication and cursing” (Part II. Qn 2. Ch 1). With the holy shooing complete, so the folkloric tale claims, the locusts were defeated and the people in the Adige River region were saved.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Swarm of Locusts by Emil Schmidt (1839–1909), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, translated by Montague Summers (Dover Publications, 1971).

The Bizarre Tale Of A Coblenz Man Who Was Allegedly Bewitched With A Pelvic-Thrusting Curse

Tall tales and stories from folklore can always be a bit peculiar, but the stories become even more bizarre when they are interwoven with supernatural themes and ideologies. Such is the case with tales formed by medieval witch-hunters, whose stories of nefarious sorceresses and powerful wizards (presented in a matter-of-fact way) often leaves the modern reader quite befuddled. Yet, some tales are stranger than others, and even the most desensitized perusers of witch stories can come across tales so odd that it shocks them out of their scholarly trance. Thankfully, not all of these shocking stories have to be tragic or bloody—some of them can be stupefying through sheer weirdness. One odd tale of a cursed man from Coblenz (modern Koblenz, Germany) fits that latter category perfectly.

The 15th-century Inquisitors, Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, recorded the peculiar story in their influential text, The Malleus Maleficarum (published around 1487). Unfortunately for us (but fortunately for those involved), the Inquisitors systematically kept all names in their record of the event anonymous. The only thing that the authors labeled in their telling of the story was the name of the town in which the incident took place—Coblenz. A fair warning: the witch tale is quite sexual in nature, as was hinted in the title of this article. We will, however, try to present the untasteful aspects of the story as tastefully as possible.

As the story goes, a local man of Coblenz developed an incredibly embarrassing condition—the poor fellow somehow became a compulsive pelvic-thruster. This was not, so they said, some innocent dancing or suggestive teasing. Instead, the man would apparently just drop his trousers without any forewarning and start shagging the empty sky. Such adultery with the atmosphere and fornication with the firmament reportedly became a frequent habit for the man, and it no doubt greatly distressed his wife. The wife (also left unnamed) was said to have tried to intervene, but her efforts were to no avail. According to the Inquisitors, “he continues to do this repeatedly, nor have the cries and urgent appeals of his wife any effect in making him desist” (Part II, Qn 2, ch 1).

Although the episodes were reportedly habitual, one particular night saw the man’s incorporeal copulation reach a new level of strangeness. To his wife’s horror, the man apparently one evening made continuous love to the late-night air for as long as he had enough energy to keep his hips gyrating. The Malleus Maleficarum described the scene after he ended his uncanny orgy with the void: “after an incredible number of such bouts, the poor man at last sinks to the floor utterly exhausted” (Part II, Qn 2, ch 1). With the man’s state becoming worse, the wife or other concerned friends decided to bring in outside help in the form of witch-hunters and Inquisitors.

The afflicted man and the Inquisitors developed an odd theory about his condition. Both parties were convinced that witchcraft or demonic forces were afoot. Church authorities investigating his case proposed that he had been the victim of a succubus demon, and believed that a witch may have cast a spell on the man to help the demon reach its target. This theory was embraced by the Coblenz man, and he quickly accused “a certain woman” (again left unnamed) of casting a malignant spell on him. Fortunately for the woman, the Inquisitors apparently could not find any corroborating witnesses or evidence to substantiate the Coblenz man’s claim. She was lucky, for the authors of the Malleus Maleficarum seemed convinced of her guilt. To explain why the woman was not punished for witchcraft they wrote: “there are no laws or ministers of justice which can proceed to the avenging of so great a crime with no other warrant than a vague charge or a grave suspicion; for it is held that no one ought to be condemned unless he has been convicted by his own confession, or by the evidence of three trustworthy witnesses” (Part II, Qn 2, ch 1).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Peasant Wedding Dance painted by Pieter Brueghel the Younger or workshop (1564–1638), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, translated by Montague Summers (Dover Publications, 1971).

Pope Leo III Almost Lost His Eyes And Tongue

Upon the death of Pope Adrian I, in 795, Pope Leo III was elected as the new head of the Christian church. Although he claimed to have been elected through an anonymous vote, Leo still had enemies. For unclear reasons, some supporters of the previous pope were bitterly opposed to the new leader of the church. They accused him with charges of immorality and misconduct, and when words failed to have the desired result, the conspirators plotted more physical attacks. In the year 799, a gang of assailants ambushed Pope Leo III as he traveled through the street. The attackers attempted to gouge out his eyes and cut out his tongue. According to Einhard (c. 770-840), the aggressors succeeded in their tasks, but the later commentator, Notker the Stammerer (c. 840-912) claimed that the pope suffered nothing more than a slashed eyelid. Whatever the case, the pope survived the attack and his eyes and tongue either healed or, according to the more fantastic tales, miraculously grew back.

Even though the plot failed, the dissidents in Rome had enough power to threaten Pope Leo’s authority. Fearing for his life and position, Pope Leo III went to Charlemagne and asked for assistance. With the help of the Frankish king, the worst conspirators against the pope were discredited, arrested and faced exile or execution. On Christmas day in the year 800, not long after order was restored in Rome, Pope Leo III bestowed upon Charlemagne the titles of Emperor and Augustus, allowing his heirs to later call their lands the Holy Roman Empire.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Illustration of Pope Leo III, by Artaud de Montor (1772–1849), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Two Lives of Charlemagne, by Einhard and Notker the Stammer, translated by David Ganz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Leo-III
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Adrian-I
• https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/saint/st-leo-iii-pope-268
• http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/09157b.htm 

Holy Roman Emperor Vs. Holy Roman Father—Henry IV Against The Popes

Henry IV (c. 1050-1106), an emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, lived quite an extraordinarily chaotic life in the Middle Ages. Although he was ruler the Holy Roman Empire for most of his reign, he had a dismal relationship with the spiritual leaders of Christendom, the popes. Even so, the Christian religion played an extremely prominent role in Henry’s life.

Henry IV became the ruler of the Germany-centered Holy Roman Empire in 1056, upon the death of his father, Henry III. As the child-emperor was too young to rule, his mother, Empress Agnes, served as the regent ruler, with helpful aid and advice from Pope Victor II. Unfortunately, the helpful pope only lived until 1057, and after his death, the empress had no luck acquiring competent and loyal advisors. For the next few years, Empress Agnes allowed the regional rulers of the empire to dramatically strengthen themselves against the crown. It would have been an odd childhood experience for Henry IV—the young ruler was even kidnapped in 1062 by the archbishop of Cologne, a man named Anno, who consequently replaced Empress Agnes as regent. The empress was not injured in the change of power, but she did retire to a convent soon after the event.

When Henry IV became old enough to rule by himself in 1065, he shed himself of the regents and other influencers, but found himself in charge of an unstable realm. Nevertheless, he quickly asserted his rule and soon the relationship between the monarch and his vassals began to strain. He announced that he wanted to divorce his wife of three years and also launched building projects at the expense of his vassals in the Harz Mountains. Unfortunately, the emperor’s desire for a divorce caused outrage among the religious circles, and the his construction projects in the Harz Mountains set the region of Saxony on a course toward rebellion.

Henry IV was eventually talked out of pursuing divorce, but the threat of a Saxon uprising persisted. Despite, or possibly because of, the arrest of Duke Magnus of Saxony, the Saxons rebelled in 1073, beginning the first of many military challenges to the rule of Henry IV. The rebels were initially successful. In 1074, they had Henry IV momentarily ready to concede to their demands, but he was able to come back and crush the rebellion in 1075.

While Henry IV was dealing with the Saxons, he was also negotiating with Pope Gregory VII over who should become archbishop of Milan. The Pope and the emperor had separate nominees for the position. While Henry IV had been preoccupied with the Saxon rebellion, he had seemed willing to follow the Pope’s lead on the nomination. After the rebellion was defeated, however, Henry IV defied the Pope’s wishes and named a chaplain from the German court as the archbishop of Milan.

The fiasco over the archbishop of Milan caused an ongoing feud between Henry IV and Pope Gregory VII. In response to Henry’s decision in Milan, the Pope excommunicated the emperor from the Catholic Church in 1076 and revoked Henry’s divine right to rule, basically giving the regional nobility of the Holy Roman Empire a religious reason to rebel against their king.

The pope’s ploy worked—regions of the empire became so hostile to Henry IV that he was forced to sneak through the Alps to meet with Pope Gregory VII at Canossa, within the realm of Mathilda of Tuscany. There, in 1077, Henry IV put on a grand display of humble penitence for Pope Gregory VII, reportedly even including the wearing of sackcloth clothing. Whatever happened at Canossa, it was convincing enough that Pope Gregory readmitted Henry IV to the Catholic Church and restored his divine right to rule.

With the pope’s forgiveness, Henry IV won back the support of many of his countrymen. Even so, plots were already in motion and factions began to coalesce behind their own claimants to the throne. The most important of these rebels was Rudolf, the Duke of Swabia, who fought against Henry IV for around three years. Pope Gregory VII eventually decided to give official support to Rudolf in 1080, when he once again excommunicated Henry IV and voided his right to rule. Unfortunately for Pope Gregory VII, he backed the wrong faction—Rudolf died in battle before the end of the year.

Henry IV did not forgive the papacy for its meddling. He convened his own religious synod, where he denounced Pope Gregory VII and set up a man named Guibert, the archbishop of Ravenna, as a rival pope. Once Henry IV had contained the rebellions in his own empire, he turned his forces against Rome, where he sieged the city unsuccessfully in 1081 and 1082, but finally forced his way into the city in 1084. In Rome, Henry’s anti-pope, Guibert, took the name Clement III and attempted to replace the exiled Pope Gregory VII as the head of the Catholic Church. Henry also took advantage of the occasion to officially receive the lofty title of Holy Roman Emperor, which had until then been withheld from him by the pope.

Even though the anti-pope, Clement III, was residing in Rome, the legitimate line of popes was still maneuvering behind the scenes to undermine Henry IV. Pope Urban II (r. 1088-1099) incited and supported leagues and rebellions against Henry IV, managing to even turn the emperor’s sons (Conrad and Henry V) against their father.

Understandably, Henry IV tried to calm relations, both with his vassals and the Catholic Church. He tried to enforce peace between feuding lords and hoped to gain a pardon from the Church in exchange for going on crusade. His son, however, decided it was time to break away from his controversial father—Henry V rebelled in 1104 and successfully forced his father to abdicate in 1105. Nevertheless, the stubborn Henry IV somehow escaped, raised an army and defeated his son in battle, shortly before dying suddenly in 1106.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Top picture: (Emperor Henry IV (by John Foxe, c. 1563) and Pope Gregory VII (printed 1891), both [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Introduction to Medieval Europe, 300-1500 (Second Edition) by Wim Blockmans and Peter Hoppenbrouwers. New York: Routledge, 2014. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Henry-IV-Holy-Roman-emperor 
• https://www.biography.com/people/henry-iv-9335166 
• http://www.encyclopedia.com/people/history/spanish-and-portuguese-history-biographies/henry-iv-holy-roman-empire 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Henry-III-Holy-Roman-emperor 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Gregory-VII 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Clement-III-antipope  

Was The Archbishopric Of Canterbury Created Because A Pope Met Slaves From Britain in a Roman Market?

Pope Gregory I, or his more illustrious title, Pope Saint Gregory the Great, was one of the most important figures to shape the future of the Papal States and the influence of the papacy over the monarchs of Europe. In fact, due to his brilliant theological mind and his masterful administration of the Catholic Church, Pope Gregory I (r. 590-604) is sometimes considered to be the founder of the medieval papacy.

Pope Gregory and his achievements deserve a much more in depth biography, but in this “Did You Know?” we will try to keep the information about Gregory’s life and ascension to throne of St. Peter concise. Gregory was born around 540 in the city of Rome. His family was wealthy, owning estates in both the Italian Peninsula and Sicily, but their primary holding was the Caelian Hill of Rome. Gregory also came from a family that was heavily associated with Christianity—his great-grandfather was Pope Felix III (r. 483-492)—and his mother, along with three other of Gregory’s aunts, all became nuns. Initially, Gregory seemed to be setting himself up for a life in government, even achieving the impressive position of a Roman Prefect. Yet, around 574, Gregory abandoned his life as an elite Roman citizen to become a monk. His isolation did not last—by 579, he was pulled out of the monastic life and appointed as a deacon. He received his last church promotion in 590, when he was elected to be pope of the Catholic Church.

In that span of time, between Gregory being pressured to leave his monastery and his ascension to the position of pope, an interesting event may have occurred that implanted the idea of creating the Archbishopric of Canterbury inside the mind of the future pope. Venerable Bede (673-735 CE) wrote that there was a “traditional story in the history of our Church” claiming that Gregory was inspired to proselytize England after an encounter with British slaves in Rome (Ecclesiastical History of the English People, Book 2, Chapter 1).

According to the story, Gregory was browsing through a market in Rome that was selling goods from the British Isles. As he was looking through the wares, one unfortunate type of merchandise caught his attention—slaves. According to Bede, a group of enslaved boys that were captured from England left Gregory awestruck. The future pope could not find a single flaw in their aesthetic appearance or physical poise. Filled with questions about these flawless boys, Gregory struck up a conversation with the slaves.

First, he asked where they came from, and they told him that their home was in Britain. Next, as a clergyman, Gregory naturally asked if the boys came from a Christian community. To this the slaves responded that their people were not Christians, but rather followed their traditional pagan gods.

As Gregory continued to question the slaves, he soon began to believe that their answers were omens calling for Britain to be fully converted to Christianity. Gregory asked the slaves what their society or race was called. To the priest’s delight, they were Angles, which he immediately compared to “angels,” the divine beings that served God in heaven. Next, Gregory asked about which province the slaves had been taken from. When they said they came from Deira, Gregory quickly associated that with the phrase, de ira, or, “from wrath.” He interpreted this to mean the Angles should be saved from the wrath of God through the teachings of the church. Finally, Gregory asked about the king of the Angles. The slaves told him that their king was named Aelle. Like with all of the other answers, Gregory could not help but associate the response with a Christian meaning. This time, he linked their king’s name, Aelle, with the religious phrase of praise, “alleluia.” After all of these answers, Gregory reportedly made it one of his life’s goals to greatly amplify the spread the of the Catholic Church into Britain.

Whether this story was historical or a mere folktale remains an ongoing debate. Generally, most people conclude that the scenario of Gregory encountering slaves from Britain is plausible, but that the conversation that was recorded by Bede was likely the result of historical fiction or storytelling. Either way, Pope Gregory did, indeed, set up the Archbishopric of Canterbury. In 597, he sent a group of missionaries, under the leadership of Saint Augustine of Canterbury, which ultimately converted King Aethelbert (or Ethelbert) of Kent to Christianity, after initially being quarantined on the Isle of Thanet. Augustine, a Benedictine monk from Rome who was said to have performed miracles, was named the first Archbishop of Canterbury.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Photo attribution: (Gregory the Great (prior to becoming pope) conversing with British Slaves, by James William Edmund Doyle (1822–1892), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

Sources:

• From Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People (and relevant letters), translated by Leo Sherley-Pride, R. E. Latham and D. H. Farmer. New York: Penguin Classics, 2003.  
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Gregory-the-Great 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Augustine-of-Canterbury  
• http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=54

Thomas Jefferson’s Daughter Almost Became A Nun In A French Convent

(Portrait of Martha "Patsy" Jefferson Randolph painted by Thomas Sully  (1783–1872), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

From 1784-1789, Thomas Jefferson served as an American diplomat in Paris, France. Although Jefferson was genuinely charmed by the French people and their drive for revolution, he was also intimidated and mystified by the freedoms that French women had achieved. In the eyes of the quiet politician from Virginia who dreamed of a simple, rural society, the Parisian women seemed too overly active in politics and sex. When Jefferson’s two daughters were eventually shipped to Paris to be near their father, Thomas Jefferson’s concerns had already grown to a point where he decided his daughters needed to be isolated from the Parisian culture.

Martha Jefferson (known as Patsy) and Mary Jefferson (known as Polly and, later, as Maria) were both placed by their father in school at a convent in Panthemont. Thomas Jefferson was a Protestant (a peculiar one, at that) and he definitely did not want his daughters to become Catholic, but he obviously thought the nuns would be a better influence on his daughters than the rest of France. He hoped, and seemed to believe, that the nuns were separating their religion from the education that was being provided to his daughters in the school.  Nevertheless, Jefferson soon learned from letters sent by his children that the students were not as isolated from the rest of the world as he would have liked.

Even in the convent, the students heard ample scandalous gossip about events occurring locally and throughout France. Jefferson also learned that his daughters were gaining a thorough understanding of the French language—unfortunately, this was apparently detrimental to their native English. Patsy reported to her father that, although her ability to speak French had grown spectacularly fluent, her native English was becoming harder and harder to remember and use.

Yet, another jarring revelation from Patsy led Jefferson to the undeniable conclusion that his daughters needed to be evacuated from France—in April 1789, Patsy made the short-lived decision to become a nun. Upon hearing this news, the shocked Thomas Jefferson quickly drove his carriage to the convent at Panthemont and yanked his daughters away from the tutelage of the nuns. By September 1789, Jefferson ended his business in France and returned to his estate of Monticello in Virginia, putting the Atlantic Ocean between France and his daughters.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Source:

• American Sphinx: The Character of Thomas Jefferson, by Joseph J. Ellis. New York: Vintage Books, 1998. 

Henry VIII of England Nearly Exterminated The Powerful Fitzgerald Clan Of Ireland

(Henry VIII and the Barber Surgeons. by Hans Holbein  ( –1543), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

Gerald Fitzgerald was the powerful 9th Lord of Kildare, located in The Pale of Ireland. He had a rocky relationship with King Henry VIII (r. 1509-1547), and was sometimes in the English king’s good graces, but at other times under suspicion or even under arrest. In 1534, Henry VIII ordered Gerald to report to London, where he would answer further questions about his loyalty. Gerald deputized his son, Thomas Fitzgerald, as the acting Earl of Kildare, then ventured to London to meet the king’s summons. Upon Gerald’s arrival in the capital, Henry VIII must not have been impressed with what he heard, for Lord Fitzgerald was imprisoned in the Tower of London.

When word reached back to Ireland that Gerald Fitzgerald had been imprisoned, many Irishmen expected the worst—after all, Henry VIII remains notorious for his many executions. Of the many concerned Irishmen, Gerald’s son, Thomas, was the most outraged.

After hearing about the imprisonment of his father, Thomas Fitzgerald declared war on Henry VIII. He managed to rally a major rebellion under his leadership, profiting from the anti-Protestant sentiment among the Catholic Irish. Thomas Fitzgerald hoped that the Catholic nature of his rebellion would entice the Scots and the Spanish to aid in his revolt, but foreign help never came. Nevertheless, Thomas was able to deliver considerable damage with his own resources.

Thomas Fitzgerald’s rebellion quickly laid siege to the major city of Dublin, which was the heart of English authority in Ireland. They succeeded in taking parts of the city, and even managed to kill the archbishop of Dublin, John Alen, but the city was never entirely occupied.

In October, 1534, English reinforcements arrived under William Skeffington to crush the rebellion. Once Skeffington’s men landed and gained a foothold, the rebellion was defeated with ease. By March of 1535, the rebels were pushed out of Dublin and slowly pressed back into the Fitzgerald territory of Kildare. Thomas Fitzgerald and his rebels made a final stand at Maynooth Castle, but by August, 1535, they were forced to surrender.

With the end of the rebellion, Fitzgerald power in Ireland virtually came to an end. Gerald Fitzgerald died of ill health in 1534, while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London. His son, Thomas Fitzgerald, despite being given a promise of mercy, was executed (along with five of his uncles) after the rebellion was crushed. After the mass execution of the Fitzgerald men, the leadership of the family passed to a young boy, also named Gerald Fitzgerald (11th Earl of Kildare), who was smuggled out of Ireland. He managed to stay alive until Queen Mary I restored him to power after the death of King Henry VIII.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Sources:

• Ireland: A Short History (Third Edition) by Joseph Coohill. London: Oneworld Publications, 2008.  
• http://www.encyclopedia.com/people/history/british-and-irish-history-biographies/thomas-fitzgerald-10th-earl-kildare
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Thomas-Fitzgerald-10th-Earl-of-Kildare  

The Pseudo-Werewolf Story From The Witch-Hunter’s Manual, The Malleus Maleficarum

(Werewolf illustration for the story "The Werewolf Howls". Internal illustration from the pulp magazine Weird Tales (November 1941, vol. 36, no. 2, page 38), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

Around 1487 CE, two famous Papal Inquisitors named Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger published The Malleus Maleficarum with the blessing of Pope Innocent VIII. The book covered supernatural topics such as witchcraft, demons and monsters in a question and answer format. It remained a highly influential text among inquisitors and witch-hunters for around three centuries.

In the peculiar pages of The Malleus Maleficarum, the authors gave several accounts of monsters, or, at least, illusions of monsters inspired by witches or the devil. One of the more interesting tales recorded in the book told of a delirious man who unfortunately believed he turned into a murderous wolf whenever he slept. The authors of the text used the following story as an example of the magical illusions that witches and devils could impose on unsuspecting people.

The Inquisitors cited a certain William of Paris as the source of this tale. The story began with a troubled man living alone in a cave. He truly and honestly believed that he became a wolf while he slept. Cursed by witchcraft or preyed on by demons, the man dreamed that he crept into nearby towns at night and devoured helpless children. When he awoke, however, he realized that children truly had been killed in nearby towns. Whenever the man dreamt that he had murdered a child, without fail, a child would be found mauled to death the next day, as if by an animal. With these revelations, the man believed to his very core that he was a genuine werewolf.

According to the Inquisitors, however, the man was being deceived. They wrote that while the cursed victim dreamed horrible visions of hunting children, the devil possessed a wolf and reenacted the man’s nightmares in reality. The dreaming man tossed and turned harmlessly in his cave while a separate wolf, supposedly controlled by demonic forces, stalked into town and attacked the vulnerable youth.

According to The Malleus Maleficarum, the diabolical charade continued for a long time. In the end, the story concluded with the townspeople finding the man writhing in delirium on a forest floor. The Inquisitors left no mention of what was done with the mad man, and no names were provided except their source, William of Paris.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Source:

• The Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, translated by Montague Summers. New York: Dover Publications, 1971.

The Story Of A 15th-Century Witch Who Started A Devastating Plague After Being Buried

(The Premature Burial by Antoine Wiertz (1806–1865), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

The Malleus Maleficarum (or The Witches’ Hammer) was the go-to manual that witch-hunters and inquisitors would reference during most of the witch-hunting era. The book was written by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, two professors of theology who happened to be in the Order of Friars Preachers and were also Papal Inquisitors with a glowing recommendation from Pope Innocent VIII. Along with their description of witches, devils, monsters and the powers and abilities of all the above, the authors of the Malleus Maleficarum also included in their text some stories and accounts of supernatural events that they picked up in their research. This is one of the really odd tales from their book involving a witch, a burial shroud and a plague that decimated a town.

This particular event described in the Malleus Maleficarum probably occurred (or was set) in an Italian town. The story refers to an official called a ‘podesta,’ which usually refers to a magistrate in medieval Italy.

The tale began with an experienced sorceress and enchantress being buried in an uncertain Italian town. An interesting note—the writers did not clarify if the woman was buried dead or alive, but the story works in either scenario. Nevertheless, she was buried and life went on as usual for the rest of the inhabitants of the Italian town…at least in the beginning.

Soon after the burial of the sorceress, a sudden plague brought utter devastation to the small town. The rate of death was so high that the officials of the town began to search desperately for a way to save themselves and their fellow citizens.

In their frantic search for a cure for the plague, the town officials stumbled upon a rumor that the plague was somehow caused by the sorceress who had been buried earlier. According to the rumor, the plague was being sustained by the sorceress eating her own burial shroud and would not end until the entirety of the shroud was swallowed and digested.

With this new lead, the officials of the town journeyed to the place where they had buried the sorceress and then excavated the woman from her grave. When they observed the woman—lo and behold—the officials found that the sorceress had eaten her way through half of her burial shroud.

Taking in this bizarre and shocking sight, one official (the podesta) drew his sword, decapitated the sorceress and threw the head far away from the grave. According to the tale, as the head of the sorceress rolled away from the grave (and the burial shroud within it) the plague abruptly came to an end and the town was able to recover. So ended this odd tale about a sorceress (possibly buried alive) who brought a plague on a town by eating her own burial shroud.

If you are curious about how this story was presented in the Malleus Maleficarum, click HERE for a Google Books link to the section where this account is listed (Malleus Maleficarum, Part 1: Question XV).

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Source:

• The Malleus Maleficarum by Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, translated by Montague Summers. New York: Dover Publications, 1971.