Ritualized Violence against Sorcerers in Fifteenth-Century France
By Aleksandra Pfau
Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft, Vol. 8, No. 1 (2013)
Introduction: In 1464, Jehan Sommet, a notary living in the town of Thiart in Auvergne, sought remission for the crime of murder. He described his disturbing night on the twelfth or thirteenth of June, when his wife ‘‘was greatly troubled in her sense and understanding, crying with a loud voice as if insensible, and wishing to throw herself out the windows into the street.’’ Jehan Sommet explained that he made a number of vows and pilgrimages, to both male and female saints, on his wife’s behalf, but they did not help her. Upset about his wife’s continued frenzy, Jehan Sommet began asking his ‘‘neighbors and other people’’ where this illness could come from, and if they knew of any possible remedy. The response, which was presented in the letter as universal, rather than being attributed to one particular source, was that his wife had been poisoned by a ninety-year-old woman in the town, named either Guillaume or Guillemete de Pigeules called Turlateuse. The helpful, but anonymous, voices of Jehan Sommet’s ‘‘neighbors and other people’’ further informed him that only Turlateuse could provide a remedy for her poisons, and that he would have to ask the sorcerer ‘‘nicely’’ (doulcement) to heal his wife. If Turlateuse refused, Jehan’s advisors continued, he should ‘‘warm the soles of her feet,’’ because on other occasions she had healed people of similar illnesses because of threats and beatings. This method of starting with sweet words and ending with threats and violence appears as a pattern in many remission letters about sorcerers, though this is the only one where the protagonist had to have it explained to him ahead of time.
This paper examines a small group of letters of remission clustered in the mid to late fifteenth century that describe a moment when a group of men decided to approach the ‘‘renowned’’ sorcerer living in their town or village. These letters were written to the king of France to explain that a crime had been committed and to humbly request that he pardon the criminal, and were composed through a process of collaboration between a royal notary and the accused criminal, or his or her family members. Remission was only available for capital crimes, those for which the punishment was death, so the letters only exist in cases where the offense was serious. The process of receiving the king’s pardon was both time-consuming and expensive. First, a petitioner had to travel to the king’s council, which could be difficult, particularly for people who did not live in or around Paris, a fact that is reflected in the general geographic scope of the letters copied by the king’s chancery. Indeed, the king’s own travel impacted the letters received and ratified, since some letters relating to crimes committed many years before were recorded when the king happened to pass through the area. The king, or more likely an officer of the chancery, would then command a royal notary, together with the accused or (in cases when the accused was unavailable, often due to imprisonment) the family members of the accused, to compose a letter explaining the circumstances leading up to the crime and telling the story of the crime itself. To be ratified, the letter had to be read before the king’s council, who, assuming the letter was satisfactory, would then provide the remission seeker with a seal. For an extra fee, the letter would also be recorded in the official record by the chancery scribes, so that there was an external source proving the existence of the pardon. The price of the whole process was officially set at thirty-two Parisian sous in the fourteenth century: six for the redaction, six for the seal, and twenty for the registration in the chancery’s books. This was more than a week’s wages for most artisans, and although the king tried to control the price by passing ordinances, the ultimate tally could be much higher, particularly when the cost of a journey to Paris and accommodation while seeking pardon are added to the consideration.
Click here to read this article from Penn Press
Ritualized Violence against Sorcerers in Fifteenth-Century France
By Aleksandra Pfau
Magic, Ritual, and Witchcraft, Vol. 8, No. 1 (2013)
Introduction: In 1464, Jehan Sommet, a notary living in the town of Thiart in Auvergne, sought remission for the crime of murder. He described his disturbing night on the twelfth or thirteenth of June, when his wife ‘‘was greatly troubled in her sense and understanding, crying with a loud voice as if insensible, and wishing to throw herself out the windows into the street.’’ Jehan Sommet explained that he made a number of vows and pilgrimages, to both male and female saints, on his wife’s behalf, but they did not help her. Upset about his wife’s continued frenzy, Jehan Sommet began asking his ‘‘neighbors and other people’’ where this illness could come from, and if they knew of any possible remedy. The response, which was presented in the letter as universal, rather than being attributed to one particular source, was that his wife had been poisoned by a ninety-year-old woman in the town, named either Guillaume or Guillemete de Pigeules called Turlateuse. The helpful, but anonymous, voices of Jehan Sommet’s ‘‘neighbors and other people’’ further informed him that only Turlateuse could provide a remedy for her poisons, and that he would have to ask the sorcerer ‘‘nicely’’ (doulcement) to heal his wife. If Turlateuse refused, Jehan’s advisors continued, he should ‘‘warm the soles of her feet,’’ because on other occasions she had healed people of similar illnesses because of threats and beatings. This method of starting with sweet words and ending with threats and violence appears as a pattern in many remission letters about sorcerers, though this is the only one where the protagonist had to have it explained to him ahead of time.
This paper examines a small group of letters of remission clustered in the mid to late fifteenth century that describe a moment when a group of men decided to approach the ‘‘renowned’’ sorcerer living in their town or village. These letters were written to the king of France to explain that a crime had been committed and to humbly request that he pardon the criminal, and were composed through a process of collaboration between a royal notary and the accused criminal, or his or her family members. Remission was only available for capital crimes, those for which the punishment was death, so the letters only exist in cases where the offense was serious. The process of receiving the king’s pardon was both time-consuming and expensive. First, a petitioner had to travel to the king’s council, which could be difficult, particularly for people who did not live in or around Paris, a fact that is reflected in the general geographic scope of the letters copied by the king’s chancery. Indeed, the king’s own travel impacted the letters received and ratified, since some letters relating to crimes committed many years before were recorded when the king happened to pass through the area. The king, or more likely an officer of the chancery, would then command a royal notary, together with the accused or (in cases when the accused was unavailable, often due to imprisonment) the family members of the accused, to compose a letter explaining the circumstances leading up to the crime and telling the story of the crime itself. To be ratified, the letter had to be read before the king’s council, who, assuming the letter was satisfactory, would then provide the remission seeker with a seal. For an extra fee, the letter would also be recorded in the official record by the chancery scribes, so that there was an external source proving the existence of the pardon. The price of the whole process was officially set at thirty-two Parisian sous in the fourteenth century: six for the redaction, six for the seal, and twenty for the registration in the chancery’s books. This was more than a week’s wages for most artisans, and although the king tried to control the price by passing ordinances, the ultimate tally could be much higher, particularly when the cost of a journey to Paris and accommodation while seeking pardon are added to the consideration.
Click here to read this article from Penn Press
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