The Witch and the Self: Imposed and Self-Actualized Identity in Early Modern Witchcraft

Before authorities could prosecute a witch, they first had to identify a witch. With the early modern proliferation of witch hunting manuals, elite categorization of witches relied on an increasingly standardized vision of the crime of heretical and maleficent magic. A witch’s status, however, was not entirely prescribed on high by an ecclesiastical authority; rather, witches were often actively engaged in determining and defining their own identities. The early modern era witnessed a burgeoning of new social taxonomies that had few antecedents in pre-modern times. During the Reformation and Counter-Reformation, Protestants and Catholics pursued divergent paths in terms of their relationship with God, Church, and Scripture. This had major repercussions on their respective approaches to witchcraft. Similarly, witches, especially those who regarded themselves as such, cultivated identities establishing witchcraft as a skill or discipline in a self-affirming rather than self-denying way. Finally, more and more cohesive countries in this age of proto-nationalism developed identities for themselves that informed their perspectives on witchcraft, delineating not only physical and geographical but also social and cultural boundaries. By examining the growing importance of selfhood—either imposed by authorities or self-determined and actualized by the witch—within the context of larger politico-religious identity structures, a more compelling definition of the witch emerges.

The Protestant Reformation was undoubtedly one of the greatest social shifts of the early modern era. The ways in which Protestants and Catholics began to define one another—and themselves against one another—had a marked impression on their respective and increasingly selective definitions of witchcraft. Stuart Clark argues that the two faiths did not come to separate conclusions regarding the existence or nature of witchcraft but that each sought to accentuate particular aspects of witchcraft and downplay others. This discriminating method of identification followed a pattern that underscores Clark’s overarching thesis of inversion. Protestants recognized the individual as the integral mediator between man and God through faith. A personal relationship with and individual commitment to God developed into important tenets of the new Protestant creed. Consequently, when identifying the crimes of a witch, Protestants prosecutors tended to emphasize the witch’s pact with the devil as the most serious crime because it stood in stark opposition to the pact Protestants forged with God through faith alone. Rituals, traditions, and Church hierarchy distinguished the Catholic faith, and Catholic prosecutors usually stressed the sabbat, an inversion of the Catholic Mass, as the most heinous witchcraft act. Peasants and lay people, for whom witchcraft had been a largely pragmatic concern, were required to readjust their methods of dealing with witchcraft after ecclesiastical authorities conflated counteractive magic with the maleficent variety. The prescription for neutralizing the effects of witchcraft followed predictably identifiable patterns: Catholics employed rituals such as making the sign of the cross, performing exorcisms, or exploiting the power of saints’ relics, while Protestants utilized simple faith, prayer, and personal communion with God to ward off the influence of witches. In short, the different ways in which Protestants and Catholics dealt with witchcraft highlighted and served to identify their own doctrinal differences, and witches supplied a convenient Other against which selfhood, and the basic ideology of their faith, could be defined.

It is important to note that these are inversions that occurred within the Protestant fold. Clark recognizes two modes in which Christians demonstrated belief in the early modern period: 1) “church-type” Christianity, which included Catholicism, and after institutionalized reform under Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli, mainstream Protestantism; and 2) “sect-type” Christianity, which existed within Protestantism but asserted its independence from any institutionalized control. The quintessential “sect-type” religion of mid-sixteenth century Reformation Europe was the Anabaptist denomination, which was open to attack from Catholic as well as established Protestant Churches. Anabaptists, for example, were persuaded by neither the hierarchy of the Catholic Church nor the systematized Protestantism of Luther, Calvin, or Zwingli (or Henry VIII for that matter) and instead identified themselves against the “demonic” rites of infant baptism and transubstantiation. According to Gary Waite in “Anabaptists and the Devil”, the radical sect viewed such ritualistic behavior as little more than demonic illusions and magical unrealities. Since the infant had not chosen to have faith in Christ, a trademark of Protestant belief, the holy baptismal water had no power at all and the belief that it did was equivalent to belief in magic. Similarly, the idea that the bread and wine of the Eucharist physically changed into the flesh and blood of Christ was little different, in the eyes of the Anabaptist, from necromancy or the transformative powers assigned to witchcraft. Alison Rowlands observes that, as far as Lutherans were concerned, it was superstition (which encompassed witchcraft) that constituted the primary concern. However, for the persecutors, both Protestant and Catholic, this self-identification mattered little. As Waite aptly notes, witches and Anabaptists were often prosecuted as heretical in the same court by the same judges in the course of a single week.

Thus far, this examination has only to pertained to how various religious groups identified themselves vis-a-vis witchcraft, but what of the self-identification of witches? How does one, now or in the early modern period, define what a witch actually is when it appears to be all things to all people or a convenient category in which to place one's enemies? Diane Purkiss contends that for many witches, this identification was self-affirming rather than self-negating. Through self-identification, witches not only became self-actualized by exerting power in one of the few arenas open to them, but also rehabilitated and redefined the meaning of witchcraft within their own communities. Since it was relatively easy for authorities to legally usurp power from these marginal peoples, co-opting the definition of a witch and defining themselves in this way served to empower peasant women in some small way. However, just as religious groups reaffirmed their own particular religious practices and self-identified by denoting their binary oppositions in witchcraft, members of the lay populace constructed oppositional models as well based on more familiar dichotomies. Much as it was the inversion of the Christian religion that provided the persecutory impetus of the elites, it was the inversions of the norms of peasant woman, mother, and homemaker that identified her as a witch by her peers.

Inversions of womanhood were steeped in the ancient medical traditions of Western science and being a woman in the early modern period could be defined as not being a man. The Aristotelian notion of “qualities” attributed “hotness/dryness” to men and “coldness/moistness” to women, and the lasciviousness of women was explained by their need to balance these qualities with the heat provided by male semen, thus perpetuating the stereotype of the woman (and witch) as prone to sexual promiscuity. Similarly, applying heat to a bewitched object could “unwitch” it. Motherhood also afforded a well-demarcated category against which one could define a witch, and Purkiss goes so far as to call the witch an inverted or “anti-mother". The life-giving milk from a woman’s breasts was believed, in the same Aristotelian tradition—reaffirmed by such luminaries as Isidore of Seville, Albertus Magnus, and the contemporary medical practitioner Jacques Guillemeau—to be purified blood, and the emanation of blood from the breasts revealed an impure woman. Expressing too much knowledge of an infant or child often engendered suspicion among others in a community. The trope of forbidden knowledge, of course, is common in the Christian tradition, hearkening back to Eve’s plucking the forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, itself interpreted as a didactic tale on feminine weakness.

During the lying-in period following childbirth, the home acted as a macrocosm of the new mother who has recently made the interior exterior through the process of giving birth—her emersion from the home after the lying-in period may be construed as a metaphor in itself of her own birth into motherhood. The macrocosm/microcosm relationship, so important to Renaissance philosophy, may be extended to yet another level. The household was the smallest economic unit of early modern society and the nation was the largest, and just as the home’s threshold symbolized the point at which the interior became exterior, so too were a nation’s borderlands the point at which a social and ethnic group’s self-identification encountered the Other. This provided the context for persecutions in borderlands such as Alsace, Lorraine, and Franche-Comté. The proto-nationalism of this period became important for the identification of a nation, at this point a relatively new concept, and the “in-group” was understood to be everything within the geographic as well as cultural boundaries. Due to the Reformation and the Thirty Year’s War, Europeans realigned themselves along new politico-religious contours. Scotland, for example, according to Christina Larner, identified itself as a “godly kingdom” in which opposition to the witch comprised a necessity. Just as people identified themselves through religious and ethnic groups and against witchcraft, so too could selfhood be manifested in national identity.

Selfhood is an important concept that must be integrated into early modern notions of the witch, but we must be careful not to glean too much information from this: Authorities were not the only people with the power to define a witch. The lay populace, especially other women, often incriminated witches—Purkiss is quick to remind us that this contravenes the supposed misogynistic element of witchcraft, but surely gender played a role.Presumably, there were women who identified themselves as witches who escaped persecution, just as there surely were women who did not self-identify as witches yet were consigned to the stake or gallows. Clark’s “sect-type” religion, while neatly opposing “church-type,” does not fit into all binary oppositional models in that, if one is not convinced of the efficacy of a religion to begin with, one will certainly not be convinced of its antithesis or inversion. Scotland, despite being a model of national identity politics, represents an outlier in the witch hunts in that it is a Protestant nation that deemphasizes both the devil’s pact as well as the sabbat. The self is a concept that would not truly materialize until Enlightenment ideas diffused across the social and cultural landscape of Europe over a century after the worst of the witch hunts were over. In the context of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, we may describe it, in part, as purely relational--defined intrinsically by and through involved communities, whether within families, neighborhoods, or religious communities. However, by contextualizing the self within these larger arrangements, the concept emerges of the witch as an identity to be defined and an identity against which to be defined.

The Aristotelian Reconciliation: Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas

The primary goal of 12th and 13th century Scholasticism was to reconcile the natural philosophy of Aristotle with revealed truth of Christian scripture. The impact of Christian thought on the philosophy of the Middle Ages need not be mentioned, for not only was it the most important in terms of influence, it was indeed the entire framework within which medieval philosophers perceived the world. However, beginning in the early 12th century, a new force which had hitherto been unknown or at least obscure enough to escape the notice of all but those scholars lucky enough to have access to his work, began to exert its influence on Western thought. Much like the Bible, Aristotle needs no introduction and if the specifics of his philosophy do not precede him, his reputation does. Throughout the course of the 12th and 13th century, he would become so popular and so emulated that he came to be known simply as Ille Philosophus, "The Philosopher," and this is in large part due to the works of Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas, who were able to resolve many of the differences between and synthesize both the corpus of Christian thought and the writings of the ancient thinker.

The path from obscurity to ubiquity for Aristotle's works in the Middle Ages was an arduous one and more complex than can be attempted here, but we may briefly track its movement. Aristotelian philosophy, like most other intellectual pursuits, gradually faded from the collective consciousness of Western Europe following the fall of the Roman Empire as there was a general dearth of scholars to carry on his work and the more academic nature of his writings did not lend itself to study in the generally difficult life led by most from 500-1000 CE. As we have seen, there were areas where his works were preserved: Boethius' translations formed the backbone of later Latin translations and copyists and scribes in the British Isles and in the Byzantine Empire preserved a fair amount in later centuries as well. But likely the greatest location for the preservation of Aristotelian knowledge was the Islamic world, which, if the Appropriation Theory is correct, managed to add to and improve. The greatest of these was the mid-12th century Muslim Spaniard Averroes (Ibn Rushd), who is often regarded as the founder of secular thought in Western Europe. Among Averroes' many accomplishments include his massively influential commentary on the writings of Aristotle, written in 1160, in which he simplified and summarized Aristotle's philosophy, made editorial comments on them to elucidate their oftentimes difficult concepts, and attempted to tease out the meanings behind Aristotle that may be conciliatory to the Islamic religion. What resulted was a sort of medieval Cliff's Notes version of the works of Aristotle that were read across the Islamic world and soon found their way into the hands of eager European scholars. Averroes was so influential that, for a time, Scholastics who were engaged in the process of synthesizing Aristotle with Christianity were known as Averroists.

To Medieval scholars, the most important ideas to be found in Aristotle's works were the ones related to metaphysics and natural philosophy. While too broad to detail here, some of his more notable theories include the concept of the four element (earth, water, air, and fire) composition of matter and their correspondent qualities, humors, zodiacal signs, etc.; the idea of nature as a "plenum," meaning that one could not reach the smallest portion of matter (the word atom comes from the Greek a tomos meaning "uncuttable"); the sphericity of the earth and the cosmos and the idea of a "natural place" for all elements (earth sank to the center, water on top of it, air rose above these two, and fire ascended to the heavens); the perfect circular motion of heavenly bodies and the difference in the nature of physics below the orbit of the moon (the sublunar sphere) and above the orbit of the moon (the supralunar sphere); and the logical hierarchy of "causes" in nature, among many, many others. It became clear early on, that not all of Aristotle's ideas meshed well with Christian doctrine, but Aristotle's authority was already too great and religious figures of the day likely could not have passed laws forbidding his teachings if they had wanted to. But try they did: in 1210 in Paris a council of bishops forbade the teaching of his works in the French university system and in 1231 in Rome Pope Gregory IX ordered a "clean-up" of Aristotle's works so they would become more palatable to medieval Christian sensibilities. The most notable of "The Philosopher's" beliefs that disagreed with Christianity included his assertion that the cosmos was eternal and had no beginning or end (this denied the Creation as well as the Apocalypse), that the soul and the body are interminably linked (this denied the immortal soul and the prospects for salvation and afterlife), and that miracles were impossible (this, of course, denied God's will). This is where Albertus and Thomas Aquinas enter the picture.

Albertus Magnus (c. 1200-1280) was a German Dominican scholar who was the first to attempt a Christian synthesis of Aristotle's ideas utilizing the same format as Averroes. Albertus, who would later be made a Doctor of the Church (one of only 33 people to hold this title in history), had a lifelong thirst for knowledge that never seems to have been satiated and ranged from theology and philosophy to alchemy and astrology, physics and metaphysics to metallurgy and phrenology. During his lifetime, he managed to compile the majority of Aristotle's known works, make insightful comments upon them as they related to the Christian world view, and preserve his work in a relatively complete form upon which later scholars could draw. However, Albertus is generally considered to have failed in truly creating a systematized Aristotelian corpus which could pass muster among the Church powers who insisted on a thoroughly Christianized philosophy. Albertus' greatest contributions to history were not to be his writings on Aristotle but his advocacy of an experimental method and of a compatibility between science and religion--perhaps broader realizations of his attempts with Aristotle. It is fitting that the scholar who succeeded in this more specific and more laborious task was Albertus Magnus' greatest student, Thomas Aquinas.

Thomas Aquinas (c. 1225-1274) was originally from the country-side around Naples and the son of a minor noble who wanted Thomas to enter a Benedictine monastery as his uncle had done. Thomas' early education was at the state-sponsored University in Naples where he developed an early interest in theology. He was more receptive to Dominican ideals as they had placed a greater emphasis on empiricism and rationality and this eventually led him to Paris where he received instruction from the imminent Albertus Magnus. Where Thomas was able to succeed his master's failures was in the great organizational capacity and originality in his thinking. Thomas regarded Aristotle, not necessarily as an ancient pagan philosopher, but as a brilliant thinker who had the Christian-perceived misfortune of being born before the salvation of Christ. And he viewed Christianity not as an island of meaning, new and disparate from other philosophy, but as a completion and fulfillment of the knowledge originally, if only partially, realized by Aristotle. Aquinas was the first to distance himself from the Augustinian viewpoint of deduction: Augustine had explained everything by taking what was known universally (the existence of God, the salvation of Christ, the path to Heaven, etc.) and derived particulars from this. Thomas, on the other hand, using the quintessentially Scholastic tool of reason, began with what could be discerned rationally among particular cases (a particular murder being evil, arriving at a conception of God after reviewing his individual creations of plants and animals, etc.) and used these to arrive at universal conclusions. His verdict on Aristotle was, essentially, that reason and faith, being separate but complementary, could be used in service of one another--reason had helped Scholastic philosophers arrive at proofs and arguments in favor of the existence of God, and faith was now being used to contend that, as far as Aristotle's natural philosophy was concerned, it could not truly contradict revealed truth if the validity of his ideas were discovered in nature. For was not nature the very dominion of God and the expression of His will at creation? Aquinas would follow Aristotle very closely in this respect, and this would lead him on the path to reworking most of the Philosopher's ideas under the illumination of the light of Christianity.

His greatest work in this endeavor was his Summa Theologica, which would contain the entirety of his new philosophical system. Written between 1265 and 1274, it argued nearly every major point of Christian theology with appeal to reason, including especially the existence of God; the Creation; Man and his purpose; Christ and His life, death and resurrection; and salvation. The work is especially known for its enunciation of "The Five Ways" or quinquae viae, five arguments for the existence of God that have a certain Aristotelian ring to them. The first of the Five Ways can be, and has been, read as the most astonishing example of Aristotelian reconciliation in particular and with Scholastic logic in general. The First Way reads, "God is simple, without composition of parts, such as body and soul, or matter and form." Aristotle had, as we have seen, argued for the eternity of the universe, but had conceded that if there was a beginning, it would necessitate the existence of a "prime mover" or a "first cause"--something that got the ball rolling. Aquinas linked these ideas thusly: To cause change is to bring into being that which had hitherto not existed and this can be done only by something that already existed (as fire is needed to cause burning in matter); a thing causing this change must remain constant itself during the change if the result is to be constant; therefore anything in the process of changing was caused by something prior to it; there must be a terminal point as there will be no original cause of changes if we do not; this first cause must be God. These words are essentially Aristotle's, with the phrase "prime mover" changed to "God." This is Thomist Scholasticism and Aristotelian reconciliation at its finest.

Thanks to Aquinas, not only was Aristotle reinstated in the European university system in the Middle Ages, it was made mandatory in 1255. His separation of natural philosophy from theology made the study of both easily compatible and this is viewed as a proto-attempt to reconcile science and religion. Aquinas himself, however, would leave his greatest work unfinished as he died while writing it in 1274. While celebrating Mass, Aquinas had a mystical vision which he would share with no one, but it obviously had a profound effect on him which changed him deeply. "I cannot go on," he said. "All that I have written seems like so much straw to me [mihi videtur ut palea] compared to what I have seen and what has been revealed to me." Aquinas died four months later. Modern observers believe he may have had a stroke or a nervous breakdown. Others that he received a mystical vision from God, providing him with an instant communion with the ultimate reality beyond logical comprehension, which no words could possibly attempt to describe. Whatever the case, even despite Thomas Aquinas' refusal to complete his opus, his new system of philosophy would dominate the remainder of medieval thought and would not find a replacement until the Protestant reformation 250 years later and the revival of Neoplatonism in the Renaissance. And he would almost single-handedly make Aristotle available for intellectual consumption on a broad scale for the remainder of the Middle Ages.