Europe's inner demons

On 18 March 1314 the four leaders appeared on a scaffold in Paris, to hear their sentences read out. Two listened in silence; but two — Jacques de Molay and the preceptor of Normandy, Geoffroi de Charnay — did not. The grand master had not always shown himself a hero: in 1307 he had produced a confession without being tortured, and had even sent a circular letter throughout France instructing his subordinates to do likewise. But now, at the last moment when he could still have done so, he spoke up. He solemnly declared that the rule of the order had always been holy and righteous and Catholic, and that the order was altogether innocent of the heresies and sins of which it had been accused. As for himself, he indeed deserved to die, because, from fear of torture and under pressure from pope and king, he had falsely subscribed to some of the accusations.⁽³¹⁾

King Philip reacted as was to be expected: without waiting for ecclesiastical authority of any kind, he had Jacques de Molay and Geoffroi de Charnay burned at the stake.

So ended “the affair of the Templars”. In the context of our story it is a most significant event. In it we see, for the first time since the days of the Roman Empire, secular authorities invoking and exploiting those dehumanizing fantasies whose history we have been tracing. But we can also observe how the fantasies themselves were changing. Now for the first time apostasy, the deliberate renunciation of Christ and of Christianity, moves into the middle of the picture.

This is no matter for surprise. We have noted in previous chapters the change that was taking place in the very texture of religious feeling: how the power of the Devil and his demons seemed ever greater, men’s resources of faith ever less adequate. Somewhere at the back of people’s minds the urge to apostasy was beginning to make itself felt. It suited the purposes of King Philip that the Templars should be regarded, and treated, as incarnations of that urge — even though in reality those devout and unsophisticated warriors would have been the last to feel it.

Not that the Templars were the only ones to be cast in that role. In those same years individual allies of the Devil were being sought, and found, in even more unlikely quarters.^†

6. THE NON-EXISTENT SOCIETY OF WITCHES

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Hundreds of books and articles have been written about the great European witch-hunt of the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and during the last few years the subject has received more attention from historians than ever before. But that does not mean that nothing remains to be said. On the contrary, the more is written, the more glaring the disagreements. Were there people who regarded themselves as witches? If so, what did they do, or believe themselves to do? Were they organized, did they hold meetings? What are we to make of covens and sabbats? Again, when and where did the great witch-hunt begin? Who launched it, who perpetuated it, and for what motives? And just how “great” was it — did the numbers of those executed run into thousands, or into tens of thousands, or into hundreds of thousands? On most of these questions there is still no consensus amongst historians — and even where consensus exists, it is not necessarily correct. The remaining chapters of this book will be devoted to examining the matter anew.

We may start with the stereotype of the witch as it existed at the times when, and the places where, witch-hunting was at its most intense. The profile of that stereotype at least is established beyond all dispute. We possess not only the records of innumerable witch-trials, but also memoirs and manuals by half a dozen witch-hunting magistrates; and the figure of the witch that emerges could not be clearer or more detailed.

A witch was a human being — usually a woman but sometimes a man or even a child — who was bound to the Devil by a pact or contract, as his servant and assistant.

When the Devil first appeared to a future witch he was clad in flesh and blood; sometimes his shape was that of an animal but usually it was that of a man, fully and even smartly dressed. Almost always he appeared at a moment of acute distress — of bereavement, or of utter loneliness, or of total destitution. A typical pattern was that an elderly widow, rejected by her neighbours and with nobody to turn to, would be approached by a man who would alternatively console her, promise her money, scare her, extract a promise of obedience from her, in the end mate with her. The money seldom materialized, the copulation was downright painful, but the promise of obedience remained binding. Formally and irrevocably the new witch had to renounce God, Christ, the Christian religion, and pledge herself instead to the service of Satan; whereupon the Devil set his mark on her — often with the nails or claws of his left hand, and on the left side of the body.