The lessons Helena Scheuberin’s trial can teach us

                  Some of you may know of Heinrich Kramer’s witch-hunting manual, the Malleus Maleficarum. I am forever delighted by the fact that former history major Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in his 2018 piece for The Guardian referred to that text in his defense of NFL cheerleader Bailey Davis. If you know, you know. Kramer’s volume became hugely popular in sixteenth and seventeenth century countries eager to rid themselves of any sort of disorder, and devil-worshipping witches seemed to be the easiest targets. Kramer told them how to hunt and prosecute witches. It’s a horrid how-to guide, including one of the first recorded instances of “good cop-bad cop” interrogation method. (“Confess now, because when my partner, Brother William, gets here you will suffer untold misery!”)

                  However, the year before Kramer’s tome was published, he tried and failed to destroy a bunch of women in Innsbruck.  Helena Scheuberin was his chief target, but he roped in as many potential victims as he could as he attempted to build his reputation as the Lord of the Witch Hunt. At the outset, there were as many as 63 accused witches, but only seven women actually faced formal trials, and Helena was clearest in his sights.

                  Helena had it all. By all accounts, she was pretty, smart, and respected. She had considered and rejected a number of suitors before settling on a match with Sebastian Scheuber. He was a catch because he was a rich and successful merchant, which held some weight in the trade center of Innsbruck. The Archduke Sigismund benefitted from the activities of local merchants who brought in wealth from far and wide. The local bishop, Georg Golser, was loyal to the Catholic Church but was cautious about the Inquisitor’s visit. Kramer arrived on their doorstep hoping to make a splash, but he was already considered corrupt and scandalous in church circles.

                  Helena was very well educated and deeply religious. She immediately clocked Kramer as a fake and called him out on it, publicly. She even dissuaded others in the congregation from attending Kramer’s daily sermons on the evils of women and witchcraft. Kramer aimed to bring her down, and he got his first chance when a “jilted” suitor came to him with a claim that Helena had attended his wedding and cursed his bride with ill health. Nobody seemed to question what would have motivated Helena to ruin the future of a man she had rejected. Kramer didn’t care. He ran with it and petitioned to accuse her, along with every other person in town who may have pissed somebody off or benefitted from someone else’s misery.

                  When first questioned, all seven women denied being witches. Additional information was required before Kramer would get permission to use torture, and so they proceeded with a preliminary hearing. Helena was the first to take the stand and submit to questioning. Kramer took his time warming up before dropping a bomb on the proceedings: he asked Helena if she had been a virgin at the time of her marriage. The assembled officials were stunned by the inappropriate question and Helena refused to answer. The bishop’s representative intervened at once and stopped that irrelevant line of questioning. He told Kramer to move on. Kramer probably reeled a bit now that his big moment was interrupted. The bishop’s man then derailed him even more by asking Kramer why he had not followed procedure. He had not presented the court with written articles but instead was only speaking off the cuff. Kramer begrudgingly agreed to a recess so he could go write out his charges.

                  When court reconvened, Helena had an advocate with her—a university-trained expert in church law named Johann Merwart. He proceeded to accept appointments from the remaining six women and so he officially represented all of them. Merwart tore Kramer to shreds on procedural grounds and questioned whether Kramer was even competent to serve as a judge. Court was recessed again, this time for the weekend. On the following Monday, court officials declared that the improper conduct of Kramer, such as arresting the women without written articles, meant the charges were nullified. The women were free to go on the promise they wouldn’t leave town in case the charges were reissued. In the meantime, the Archduke paid everyone’s fees and even Kramer’s hotel bill.  And that was that.

There are some great lessons here:

• The secular men in power were self-serving but rational enough to see the big picture. The merchant class brought wealth and respect to the city and allowing one of their own to suffer would have had an impact on all of them. Once a respected merchant’s wife was brought down, Kramer had six more victims and dozens of potential victims lined up. The whole town would have suffered for one man’s power-mad whims. There was no sense in destroying the community and the economy.
• The religious men in power respected the papal hierarchy but remained true to their moral judgement. They rejected the fear and the violence Kramer had tried to bring to their congregations and had the courage to stop him in his tracks.
• Helena had the confidence to speak truth to power. She refused to answer Kramer’s invasive questions and that bravery gave the authorities their first chance to intervene.
• Helena herself could have walked away and left the other women to their fate, but her high-powered lawyer ended up representing the whole group. Every one of them went home safely. She used her privilege to save everyone. Even if there’s a chance she just did so to thumb her nose at Kramer, the impact was the same.

The very next year, of course, Kramer published his volume and many, many other victims did not survive. Kramer would specifically recommend that interrogations include torture from the get go, in order to trap people in their desperate ramblings before anyone could help them. Once a confession was achieved, no matter how bizarre or unreasonable, the accused had little hope of escape.

Too bad more people didn’t know about Helena and how to stand up for all that is righteous.

Many thanks to Marion Gibson’s 2024 bestseller, Witchcraft: A History in Thirteen Trials, for her telling of Scheuberin’s story.