Witch-Lynchings in France, 1450-1500

Enforcement of the witch hunts was in the hands of inquisitors, lords, bishops and magistrates, but common men also struck out on their own. Witch-killings increased, apparently occurring at a much
greater rate than the occasional instances of mob murders that surfaced at Ghent, Cologne, and Frising in the 11th century. Rulers tolerated this brand of terrorism, which went unrecorded in many places.

We know that groups of men frequently went witch-hunting in Auvergne only because royal pardons of the perpetrators were recorded. The male killers ganged up on individual women, not infrequently after consuming alcohol, and beat them to death. Their victims were usually old women, accused by the attackers of putting spells on themselves, their families or their animals to make them sick. The men offered no evidence of wrongdoing to any court, but simply used violence to vent their spleen. Yet the royal documents reprieve the murderers, and even blame their victims for dying from severe beatings.

September, 1452. Guillaume Moler, a 20-year-old laborer in Auvergne, prays the king's pardon for murdering Bégnite Cloète.
Two of Guillaume's friends came to him after midnight and asked him to get up and go after Bégnite. Thogny de la Villate told him that she had bewitched him "and made him languish in a certain ailment by virtue of some evil art, so much so that he had lost his natural good sense and his memory." Apparently Thogny was blaming Bégnite for his impotence. He had been badgering her for some time to cure his "malady,",whatever it was, and claimed that she had once promised him to do so. Now he was angry because she had refused to help him. Bégnite denied having anything to do with his problem.

Next, the three young men came armed with clubs, demanding that Bégnite “cure” Thogny. It seems that she told them that she was unable to fix his problem (though only the men's testimony appears in the official record). The men threatened her with a beating, “to make her do it by force and fear.” Begnite held her ground. The men got violently angry and beat her with clubs. Half dead, Begnite finally gasped out that she would cure Thogny. They left her lying on the ground, severely wounded. She dragged herself away, and expired that night under a tree.
The royal document conluded that her death was likely due to the cold she caught after becoming so moved and heated up, “or by lack of good and necessary management or otherwise.” The king pardoned Guillaume, “wanting to prefer mercy to rigorous justice.” [Fournier, Pierre-François, Magie et Sorcellerie, Editions Ipomée, 1977, p. 308]

November, 1455. Two men seek pardon for murder, saying that they are supporting wives and children (as Guillaume Moler did).

Most of Andre Morin's livestock died, while the neighbors' animals had not. In their parish of Torzie, a certain couple were publicly rumored to be sorcerers: Jehanne and Huguenin de la Meu, “working people.” They had already been accused of making people and animals sick. Several men had threatened them and beat them up. Public opinion held that these beatings had succeeded in making them lift the curse, since the sick people and animals had recovered. This was what Andre had in mind to do to Jehanne. She heard of it and told his wife Alayre, "Your husband said that I made his animals sick. He spoke wrongly, and before long he will become aware of it." [Fournier, 311]
    Then Alayre came down sick and feared that she would die. The next day, Andre went to Jehanne and threatened to beat her up. He accused her of causing his wife's illness, shouting that if she didn't fix Alayre up, he would beat Jehanne so that she'd never be well again. He managed to terrorize Jehanne into saying that she would leave Alayre alone. Miraculously, the sick woman felt better the next day.
    But in a week Alayre relapsed and became desperately ill. Convinced that Jehanne was the cause, André took his two sons with him to her apartment, each armed with a small club. Jehanne and her husband protested that they had nothing to do with Alayre's sickness and had no power to cure her. Huguenin was struck a few times. The sons dragged Jehanne outside the house and clubbed her until she begged them to stop, assuring them that she would cure Alayre right then. At which point, one youth split her skull open. They left her in the street.
     Once again, the court blamed the victim: “by lack of good management or otherwise she went from life to decease.” Pardon was granted. [Fournier, 311-12]

September, 1464. Jehan Sommet, a notary, appeals for royal mercy.
Sommet’s wife “was heavily troubled in her sense and understanding, crying out loudly like a madwoman, trying to throw herself from the windows into the street.” (Was she a battered woman? We'll never know.} He had her go on pilgrimages and appealed to numerous saints on her behalf. Nothing worked. He began asking around as to where her frenzy came from and how it might be cured. Some people told him that it came from poisons given by an old woman of the town who was reputed to be a powerful witch. She was Guillaumette de Pigeroles, nicknamed Turlutenche. No one could cure the alleged poisonings but Turlutenche.

    Jehan was advised to ask her to do it, nicely at first, and if that did not work, to burn the soles of her feet until she agreed. That was held to be a guaranteed method, because it had been tried before by certain denizens of Thiart village. After threats and beatings, they said, she had “cured” numerous persons.

    So Jehan and his wife’s brothers sent for Turlutenche on false pretenses, luring her to an apartment where they lay in wait. They accused her, and she said she had nothing to do with the woman's troubles. The men threatened her, and one of them went to look for a hot iron. They applied it to her feet, her nose and her cheek while one man held her to the ground with a stick at her neck. Turlutenche continued to deny having anything to do with the woman’s troubles. Finally her tormentors left, warning her to leave the wife alone. Turlutenche crossed back through the marketplace and went home.

   The wife's madness became much worse. Husband Jehan called four other men together and proposed another assault on the old woman. Some of the men were afraid to break into Turlutenche's place at that hour of night because they thought her neighbors might interfere. Jehan reassured them that no one would get involved.

So the five men went to Turlutenche's house at nine at night and dragged her out of bed, naked. They carried her off to a nearby church, beat her with clubs, knocked her around and dropped her on the ground. Desperate, Turlutenche told them that the woman was cured. One man ran back to see if it was true, and returned to say that she was “a little improved.” The husband went with him to talk with their victim, who was lying naked on the ground near the river. She was fatally injured and did not answer. Her body was cold. They took her back to her house. It was locked, so they left her nude body in the street. The king granted their pardon too. [Fournier, 319-23] The authorities indulged this freelance witch-hunting.

March 1468, Auvergne.
Anthoine Dubost's animals had died or had accidents and he suspected Aelis Periere, "a working woman.” She was a widow “of evil life,” reputed to be a witch. Anthoine claimed that she was angry for being refused wool or bread or other things she asked for. He alleged that she had threatened that he would become as poor as she was. The Dubosts attributed the illness of their animals and family members to her. Anthoine confronted Aelis with these accusations. She told him that she had nothing to do with his problems and refused to come “cure” his animals.

A group of men gathered at the Dubost house and set out for the village where Aelis lived. Some of them stayed out of sight as others knocked on her door. When she opened it, the men grabbed her arms and dragged her off to a deserted place. They blindfolded and beat her, then left.Her neighbors had heard the noise and came looking for her. They found Aelis lying on the ground with a broken arm and head; they carried her back to her house. Soon afterwards she died. [Fournier, 324-7]

In a few cases the accused sorcières had family who defended them against their attackers. In the following instance the old woman resorted to an ancient practice of publicly crying her innocence, a custom known in Spanish law as a protection for women falsely accused of sexual or magical offences.

            April, 1472. Guillaume Nugiere's five year old daughter took sick. Many people blamed Michelle Tortoine, believing her to be a witch. While the father was drinking in a tavern with his buddies, they asked how the girl was doing; he said the same. They agreed that if it was their affair they would beat Michelle and punish her but good.

     Guillaume was inspired to go home and get a pole and go looking for Michelle. He walked into the old woman's house and threatened and accused her. She protested that she had not caused the sickness and that people were mistaken about her. One of her daughters came up and told him not to beat her mother. He told her to get out, but she sat down. Guillaume said that he would not beat Michelle right then, but promised to return if his daughter did not improve. He left. Michelle ran to the window and called after him, shouting that he had stolen a hat and other angry words. He denied it and called her "sorcière" several times. Then he went home and sat in front of his door.

    Michelle went through the streets crying out against him for defaming her as a sorcière. Guillaume heard her, grabbed his pole and went after her. He caught up with her in front of a house and began beating her with the pole. She seized one end and tried to jab him with it. He threw her to the ground and stalked off. She went to the law to enter a complaint, then went home. She was seen in the streets for about two weeks afterwards. She took sick and died after a few months. [Fournier, 329-31]

1479. Two farming families were quarrelling over land use and boundaries. One man insulted the mother of the other family, a widow, calling her gênischière (a word for “witch.”). Her son was enraged at the insult and the confrontation was about to break into a fight. Antoinette Brune, the mother, stepped forward with a stone in her hand and said to her accuser, "Compère, where did you find me, in what place? I am as much a good woman as you are a good man.” One of her relatives dealt the accuser a blow in the face that felled him, and was the death of him. [Fournier, 332-4]

The term gênischiere, also gênauche, comes from gêner, to bother, annoy or pain. This is another case where spirited defense by relatives saved the accused woman. But as we’ll see below, they could also assist in her condemnation.

April, 1484. Priest Jean Bouchut went with two other priests to demand payment of a small sum owed him by the widow Blanche Maydade. She walked down the road with them, begging the priest for some more time to pay him. Another priest joined them. As they walked, Bouchut began reproaching Blanche for having bewitched his sister-in-law, making her sick. People were saying that Blanche had been angry for not being invited to her wedding. Rumor had it that Blanche had said the couple would not enjoy forty days together. He wanted her to take the “curse” off. The widow said it was not true and she wasn't doing anything.

The priest became angry; he seized the woman's hand and twisted and turned it, forcing her to the ground. He struck a blow to her face, which began bleeding. Then, “without wanting to do her any harm,” he kicked her in the head and shoulders. She got up and went back home, alone. Six or seven days later she was dead. The killer was granted a pardon. [Fournier, 335-6]

In one unusual case, a feudal lord intervened on behalf of a murdered woman. (However, the victim had not been accused of witchcraft.) A man had consulted a devyn (male diviner) to check up on his wife's behavior, and to identify who had fathered her last child. The wife had been sent back to her family after two or three years of marriage, allegedly for denying him sex. She later returned, but was pregnant. Her husband sent her to her brother's house until she bore the child. He heard that she was seeing another man, caught them in the act, and killed them both. He received a royal pardon in 1486.
But the lord of Arlanc appealed to Parlement since it was common knowledge that the man had had many mistresses and had beaten and mistreated his wife, demanding to know who was the child's father. And he had also consulted the devyn. All this had been left out of his appeal to the king. Nevetheless, he still received a second letter of remission pardoning him. [Fournier, 337-8]

The royal courts show a clear pattern of favoring men and excusing their violence against women, especially those accused of witchcraft. France, like other countries, was moving to intensify persecution of witches. In 1490, and again in 1493, king Charles VIII issued orders that all enchanters, diviners, invokers of spirits and so forth be arrested and their property confiscated. [Lea, MTHW 1287]

Another case from 1497 shows female accusers. Annette Roussell accused Katherine Hugue, nicknamed Balage, of having caused the miscarriage of a certain man's child. Furious, Katherine grabbed her by the arms and shook and twisted them. Later Annette complained that Katherine had caused illness in her arms. Katherine replied that she was crazy and not to think about it and invited her to come drink at her house. (Offering food or drink was a common folk custom to resolve sorcery accusations, practiced also in Germany, as Hans Sebald documented, in the period before the mass witch hunts.) So Annette and another woman went and ate and drank. Katherine recommended that she should go to Notre Dame de Orcival. After that Annette claimed she was cured.

A few days later Annette was telling other women about how Katherine had cured her, and it spread back to Katherine. She went looking for Annettte and told her, “You're going all over saying that I cured you. I want you to know that I had nothing to do with your illness.” Then Annette claimed that she felt the illness return. She told Katherine if she did not fix it she would go to the law. Katherine said she didn't know what to do about her problem, and they parted in anger.

Then Annette's eyes got bad. Her relatives and friends talked to her husband, saying that Katherine was to blame and the only one to cure Annette. The husband talked with Katherine's nephew, who said he wished she was dead since he got so many complaints about her. This was like a green light to the husband; he went to his brother-in-law and asked for his help. First they went to his house and juiced up on liquor. Then they went with Annette to Katherine's house. Annette's brother hung back while the couple knocked on her door. She didn't open up. Somehow they forced their way in and beat her up so badly that she was dead by the next day. [Fournier, 344-7]

These witch-lynchings entered history only because some perpetrators were convicted and then appealed their sentences to the French king. Other killers never were prosecuted, much less condemned, in the first place. People tend to think of accused women being executed by the Inquisition or (if they are well-informed) by secular courts. But extrajudicial murders were common, as Robert Mandrou documents for the 17th century, and many, even most, were carried out with impunity.

This patriarchal terror was leveled against old women, poor women, widows. Women were vulnerable, much more so if they had no male relatives, or men willing to defend them). It suited judges and the royal appeals court to tolerate their scapegoating. Most cases probably never came to trial. In the France of 1475, groups of men would gang up on a woman and fatally beat her, either in a house or dragging her off to the woods.

In other places, they might drown her, sometimes in the guise of a water ordeal, the Hexenbad. Witch drownings are recorded for Germany as early as the 800s, and still in 1435, of Agnes Bernauer. Who knows what other means, likely fire, were used by self-appointed persecutors of whom no trace was ever written. Their brutalizing of women was deep-rooted enough, though, to be carried to the English colonies.

At Hadley, Massachusetts, a group of young men attacked Mary Webster in 1683. They hung her up “until she was near dead,” dropped her to the ground, rolled her in the snow, and buried her in it. Witch-hunting preacher Cotton Mather defended them, holding that this attack on Goody Webster eased the pain of a “bewitched” man.

Was it this man? “Mary Webster had to answer to the authorities for causing a man’s breast to swell ‘like a Womans’ and for having ‘wounded or burned’ his sexual organs.” [Karlsen 199*: 30-32]

This gash in the historical silence splits open to allow us a glimpse of the roaring misogyny blazing under the surface of the written record, the conventional history of female absence, where the viciousness of misogyny is not perceptible.

The freelance killings of old “witches” continued—in fact, escalated—into the mass hunts of the 1600s. not only in central France, but in the Low Countries, Germany, Spain and other countries.

Witch-lynchings in France, 1450-1500