The Story Thus Far: German Inquisitor Johannes Nider wrote Formicarius (“The Ant Hill”), the second major work on European witchcraft, in 1435 CE (see Hunting Witches in Print, Part Two – “Can They REALLY Fly?”)…
(Note of Caution: I found it really tough to find Internet sources that even attempted to be unbiased, and fewer with clear primary source references; a book I was unable to get a hold of and which might answer some questions is The Malleus Maleficarum and the Construction of Witchcraft by Hans Peter Broedel.)
By this time, an Alsatian boy named Heinrich Kramer had probably turned about five years old in Schlettstadtt, whose local Dominican chapter house he would later join at a very young age. The chapter soon appointed him prior despite his youth and before 1474, he had become Inquisitor for the Tyrol region and Salzburg in Austria; and Bohemia and Moravia in today’s Czech Republic. Rome recognized him for his eloquent sermons and zeal, and the Archbishop of Salzburg made him his right-hand man.
Born one to two years after Nider published his treatise, Jacob Sprenger also entered the Dominican order in his place of birth, Basel, Switzerland. Around 1475, Pope Sixtus IV named him General Inquisitor of Germany, and before he became Inquisitor Extraordinary of Mainz, Treves, and Cologne, Germany in 1481, he attained the position of Dean at the prestigious Faculty of Theology in the University of Cologne.
Unlike his fellow Dominican Kramer, he appears to have shown very little if any interest at all in witchcraft…
Whatever the true nature of the relationship between the two contemporaries, on December 5, 1484 Pope Innocent VIII issued the bull entitled Summis desiderantes, in which he clearly stated that he had received reports of men and women engaging in witchcraft in parts of Germany. He pointed out that despite their papal authority to oversee these cases, Sprenger and Kramer (referred to by the Latinized version of his name, “Institoris”) had encountered opposition from clergy and laity in these areas because their letters of deputation didn’t specifically mention these suspects. Innocent gave the two Inquisitors full jurisdiction over any instance of reported sorcery in these regions and ordered local Roman Catholic Church officials to facilitate their efforts.
Kramer for one seems to have begun writing a treatise on witchcraft at about this time, and in 1485 he directed a trial of no less than 57 witchcraft suspects in the Austrian city of Innsbruck. However, his insistence on the details of the defendants’ sexual activities soon drove the Bishop of Innsbruck to close the trial down, declaring that the Devil was in the Inquisitor, not the witches!
Kramer bounced back from this setback with a vengeance: on May 9, 1487 he submitted to Sprenger’s Faculty of Theology a compilation of his witchcraft manuscript; popular current beliefs and practices; and generous helpings of both Nicholas Eymerich’s Directorium Inquisitorum (1376) and Formicarius (though to be fair, he did credit Nider by name). He entitled his book Malleus Maleficarum, a.k.a. The Witches’ Hammer, Hammer of the Witches, or my favorite, the German Hexenhammer.
Having hoped for the Faculty’s approval, he quite possibly falsified the letter of endorsement from four professors included as a preface along with the papal bull in subsequent editions. At any rate, his manual got published 13 times between 1487 and 1520, a runaway literary success for that era outselling all other publications except for the Bible.
All editions after 1519 credit Sprenger himself with co-authoring the Malleus, but his current Wikipedia entry based on Montague Summers’ Introduction to the Malleus Maleficarum (1928 Edition) claims that he “used his powerful position whenever he could to make Kramer’s life and work as difficult as possible.” These don’t sound like the actions of a collaborator, but historian Jenny Gibbons asserts that he had co-written the work at the Pope’s insistence, only to fall out with Kramer over the Faculty’s denunciation of the book and the older theologian’s forgery of their approval. Sources seem to agree that the Inquisition (perhaps the Spanish) condemned the Malleus, Kramer, or both in 1490, and that the Church listed the book on its Index of Forbidden Works (although I couldn’t find a date).
Still, Gibbons’ claim that the Alsatian monk’s peers did not respect him suffers in light of his later professional achievements and his handbook’s continuing success. The younger Sprenger died “suddenly” in 1494, but in 1495 Kramer obeyed a summons to deliver some very popular lectures in Venice, and in 1500 he received authorization to officially oppose the Waldensians and Picards. At the time of his 1505 death, he appeared to be still a Catholic and Church official in good standing, and his Malleus was still going strong – with or without Church support.
So after all this history and the ongoing debates over its origins, what does the blasted book actually say?
Next: Hunting Witches in Print, Part Four – “They Can Make My WHAT Disappear!?”