Belief in witchcraft stretches back to the dawn of human history, with ancient societies across the globe attributing supernatural powers to certain individuals, often with a mix of fear and reverence. Among the Germanic tribes, long before the spread of Christianity, sorceresses and seers were integral to their cultural and spiritual fabric. Magic was not a mere superstition but a tangible force, woven into the very reality of their existence. These early beliefs laid the groundwork for later perceptions of witchcraft as a dark and malevolent power. As Christianity expanded during the Middle Ages, particularly through the eastward push into regions like the Mark Brandenburg in the 12th and 13th centuries, the concept of witchcraft underwent a sinister transformation. The notion that witches had forsaken God to forge pacts with the devil became a pervasive narrative across the German-speaking world, casting them as agents of evil who wielded black magic for nefarious ends.
The accusations of witchcraft were often rooted in deeply personal and communal tensions. Envy, resentment, and jealousy frequently fueled denunciations, as neighbors turned on neighbors over petty disputes or perceived slights. Unexplained natural disasters, epidemics, and personal misfortunes further stoked these fears. Witches were blamed for a range of calamities, from sudden illnesses to crop failures, believed to wield dark powers through weather spells or the infamous “evil eye.” This pervasive dread was compounded by the limited understanding of natural phenomena during the Middle Ages and early modern period. When cows ceased to produce milk, harvests withered, or plagues swept through villages, the lack of scientific explanation often led to suspicion falling on those deemed outsiders or different, with witches becoming convenient scapegoats for society’s woes.
The Rise of Institutionalized Witch Hunts
The formalization of witch persecution gained significant momentum in the late 15th century, driven by religious and legal authorities. A pivotal moment came in 1484 when Pope Innocent VIII issued the infamous “Witches Bull” (Bull Summis desiderantes), largely at the behest of the Dominican inquisitor Heinrich Kramer. This papal decree legitimized the pursuit of witches, framing their existence as a dire threat to Christendom. Kramer followed this with his 1487 text, Malleus Maleficarum (The Hammer of Witches), which became a seminal guide for witch hunters across Europe. As one of the first widely circulated “practical handbooks” on witch-hunting—thanks to the advent of the printing press—it provided detailed methodologies for identifying, interrogating, and convicting alleged witches. The text blended theological arguments with procedural advice, embedding the notion that witchcraft was not only real but a pervasive danger requiring ruthless eradication.
The Malleus Maleficarum disproportionately targeted women, reflecting and reinforcing the era’s misogynistic views. Women were often seen as the “weaker sex,” more susceptible to temptation and sin, and thus more likely to succumb to the devil’s allure. The text propagated myths that women gained their supposed powers through sexual congress with Satan, a lurid narrative that fueled both fear and fascination. This gender bias was evident in the demographics of witch trials, where marginalized women, particularly those who were unmarried or widowed, were primary targets. Lacking the social and legal protection a husband might provide, these women were vulnerable to accusations, especially as their growing independence was often interpreted as a sign of devilish influence.
Torture was a cornerstone of witch trials, employed not just to punish but to extract confessions and implicate others. The brutal methods used ensured that most accused individuals would admit to witchcraft, regardless of truth, often naming others under duress. This created a vicious cycle of accusations, where one confession led to a cascade of denunciations, spiraling into local witch hunts and mass executions. By the 17th century, the Malleus Maleficarum had been published in numerous editions, its influence permeating both Catholic and Protestant regions. In areas like Kurbrandenburg, accusations of “courting the devil” led to death sentences by fire for both women and men, often following torturous interrogations.
Even figures of reform, such as Martin Luther, endorsed the persecution of witches. Despite his critiques of the Catholic Church, Luther fervently supported the anti-witch movement, citing biblical mandates like Exodus 22:17—”Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”—in his sermons. His stance lent theological weight to the witch hunts in Protestant territories, ensuring that the Reformation did not soften attitudes toward alleged sorcery. The confessions extracted during these trials, often through horrific torture, filled historical records with false admissions, painting a grim picture of a society gripped by paranoia and cruelty.
Legal Foundations and Brutal Executions
The legal framework for witch persecution was codified in influential texts like the Sachsenspiegel, a key medieval legal code. Chapter XIII of Book II explicitly mandated that any Christian man convicted of sorcery or poisoning be burned at the stake, reflecting the era’s harsh stance on perceived supernatural crimes. Executions were public spectacles, designed not only to punish but to serve as a warning to others. Pyres were constructed with several cubic meters of fuel, ensuring a prolonged and gruesome death. In some cases, if the court deemed it merciful, the executioner would strangle the condemned before lighting the fire—a grim gesture of compassion. The act of burning was laden with symbolic meaning, believed to purge the demon inhabiting the accused, sending the evil spirit up in smoke to be eradicated forever.
In Berlin, the first city register, covering up to 1448, documents nineteen cases of individuals sentenced to death by burning, including two elderly women convicted of sorcery. These early records provide a glimpse into the localized nature of witch persecution, where accusations often stemmed from personal grievances or unexplained events. The burning of the accused was not merely a punishment but a communal ritual, reinforcing societal norms through fear and spectacle.
Early Witch Trials in Berlin
The earliest recorded case of sorcery in Berlin dates to 1390, involving an elderly woman named Wolborg. According to historical accounts, Wolborg gave two berries to a woman named Else Schneider, who subsequently fell gravely ill. When Else sought Wolborg’s help, the latter publicly admitted to causing the illness and claimed only she could provide a cure. Despite demanding payment for her remedy, Else’s condition worsened, leading to Wolborg’s indictment for sorcery. The court found her guilty, sentencing her to death by fire. The sparse details in the records leave much to speculation, but the case illustrates how personal interactions could escalate into fatal accusations in a society primed to see witchcraft behind every misfortune.
A second case from 1423 is even less documented, with the accused woman’s name omitted from the Berlin city register. She was charged with practicing sorcery, mixing powders, and preparing magical concoctions under the cover of night. Like Wolborg, she was condemned and burned at the stake, though the lack of specifics about her identity or the circumstances of her trial underscores the often perfunctory nature of such proceedings. These early cases highlight the precarious position of women in medieval society, where vague suspicions could swiftly lead to deadly consequences.
Resurgence and Societal Crises in the 16th Century
Berlin witnessed a resurgence of witch trials in the mid-16th century, driven by a toxic blend of superstition, religious upheaval, epidemics, and environmental challenges. The Reformation, sparked by Martin Luther’s 95 Theses in 1517, had destabilized the traditional religious order, with Joachim II, Elector of Brandenburg, converting to Protestantism in 1535. This religious fracture, combined with the harsh climatic conditions of the Little Ice Age, led to failed harvests and widespread hardship. Plague outbreaks further decimated populations, creating a desperate need for scapegoats. Witches, alongside other marginalized groups like Jews, became targets of blame. In 1510, Berlin saw the horrific execution of 39 Jews in the “host desecration trial,” with two others spared burning due to their baptism and instead killed by the sword.
The concept of “storm witches” emerged during this period, with legends attributing crop and property damage to women wielding weather magic. One apocryphal tale recounts an innkeeper thwarting two accused witches by pouring enchanted water over them, turning them to ice. While such stories are likely fictional, historical records confirm a violent thunderstorm in Berlin on June 15, 1551, which damaged the bell tower of the Nikolaikirche, lending credence to the era’s fixation on supernatural explanations for natural disasters.
Chronicles from the time, such as Ferdinand Pusthius’s account from 1699, document a 1552 execution in Berlin where a sorceress was burned. Witnesses claimed a heron—believed to be the devil himself—hovered over the scene, departing with a piece of her fur. Such tales, whether true or embellished, reflect the pervasive belief in demonic intervention. The following year, two more women were burned after confessing under torture to dismembering and cooking a child to create a magical substance aimed at inflating food prices—a grotesque accusation born of societal panic over scarcity.
The Height of Witch Hunts in Nearby Bernau
While Berlin saw relatively fewer witch hunts during the peak period of 1620 to 1635, the nearby town of Bernau in Mark Brandenburg was not spared. A notorious witch hunt erupted there, fueled by superstition and local crises. One legend recounts an elector passing through Bernau’s town gate, only for his horses to collapse and die—attributed by the coachman to witchcraft. This incident led to the swift arrest of several women, with the Tobias-Seiler Chronicle of 1736 recording at least 22 cases of individuals burned for allegedly pacting with the “Lord of Darkness.” The ease of accusation in Bernau underscores the fragility of social bonds in times of hardship, where mere suspicion could lead to deadly consequences.
Specific cases in Bernau reveal the personal toll of these hunts. Jürgen Crone and his wife Emerentia, bakers who moved to Bernau for better opportunities, became victims of envy when their uniquely flavored bread gained popularity. A neighbor accused them of witchcraft, claiming their success was devil-driven. Jürgen died under torture in 1618, his body burned posthumously, while Emerentia, pregnant at the time, was allowed to give birth before suffering the same fate three months later. Their story exemplifies how economic success could breed resentment, swiftly turning into fatal accusations.
Another tragic case involved Dorothea Meermann, known as “Orthie,” whose family history of witchcraft convictions—both her mother and grandmother had been executed—marked her as a target. In 1617, under torture, another accused woman named Gertrud Mühlenbeck implicated Orthie, triggering a wave of fantastical charges. Neighbors accused her of feeding a dragon on her roof and distributing cursed food, while her familial ties to sorcery were cited as damning evidence. Despite enduring brutal torture, including having her breasts pulled with red-hot tongs, Orthie refused to confess. Her trial dragged on for two years until she died in custody in 1619, likely from a broken neck sustained during imprisonment. Her body was buried in unconsecrated ground, a final indignity. Her daughter, Catarina Selchow, was later burned in 1621, accused of sending an evil spirit to ease her mother’s suffering in prison—a poignant example of how accusations often ensnared entire families.
Decline of Witch Trials and Modern Reflections
The tide against witch hunts began to turn after the Thirty Years’ War (1618-1648), as skepticism about the validity of such trials grew. In 1714, Frederick William I, known as the Soldier King, mandated that torture and related sentences required his personal approval, effectively curbing witch persecutions. He also ordered the removal of branding stakes across the land, signaling a de facto ban on such executions. Despite this, isolated cases persisted, such as the 1721 trial of a Berlin miller’s daughter accused of dealings with the devil. Though not convicted of witchcraft, she was deemed insane and sent to the Spandau spinning house—a fate tantamount to a death sentence.
Today, the legacy of witch hunts is remembered through memorials, such as the one in Bernau commemorating the 25 women and three men executed for sorcery between 1536 and 1658. These markers serve as somber reminders of a dark chapter in history, driven by fear, misogyny, and societal instability. Yet, the fascination with witchcraft endures in modern times, albeit in a transformed guise. Berlin, often dubbed the epicenter of the neo-pagan witch movement in Central Europe, hosts a vibrant community of self-proclaimed witches who embrace the label with pride. Whether or not Berlin truly holds the highest concentration of witches, its reputation as a hub for alternative and occult practices is widely acknowledged, possibly tied to the city’s broader identity as a center for the unconventional.
On platforms like TikTok, modern witches, both women and men, share their practices with millions, posting videos on spellcraft, tarot reading, herbal concoctions, and crystal magic. These 60-second clips, especially popular among teenagers, reflect a romanticized and accessible take on witchcraft, far removed from the shadowy forests of medieval lore. This digital visibility contrasts sharply with the historical persecution of alleged witches, highlighting a cultural shift from fear to fascination. While the horrors of the past cannot be undone, the contemporary reclamation of witchcraft as a form of empowerment or spiritual expression offers a counterpoint to centuries of oppression, inviting reflection on how societies define and respond to the “other” in their midst.
Featured image: Karneval der Kulturen 2018, abbilder Flickr, CC BY 2.0