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I’m a dog person. Always have been. So much so that my kids have as many dogs as there were humans in our nuclear family. Cats are another matter. Never liked them. Never trusted them. Now I come to find out maybe it’s in my (extremely lapsed) Catholic genes.
Chasing heretics was a favorite Catholic pastime in the Middle Ages. In the early 13th Century the church was determined to stamp out the Cathari and other dualist sects. They believed there were two principles, one good and the other evil, and that the material world is evil. In fact, this was the beginning of the Inquisition.
In October 1231, Pope Gregory IX appointed Konrad of Marburg as Germany’s first papal inquisitor. Konrad took to his job with so much gusto that even a Catholic encyclopedia says he “proved too severe and harsh.” In fact, in 1233 the Archbishop of Mainz wrote Pope Gregory, saying, “Whoever fell into [Konrad’s] hands had only the choice between a ready confession for the sake of saving his life and a denial, whereupon he was speedily burnt.”
Konrad reported to the Pope that he had uncovered a satanic cult that worshiped devils in the forms of a demonic man and a diabolical black cat. In response, on June 13, 1233, Pope Gregory sent Konrad, the Archbishop of Mainz and the Bishop of Hildesheim, a “Proclamation on the Word of God” (i.e., a papal bull). Although translations vary slightly, Gregory described the cult’s initiation ritual, including the following:
Afterwards, they sit down to a meal and when they have arisen from it, the certain statue, which is usual in a sect of this kind, a black cat descends backwards, with its tail erect. First the novice, next the master, then each one of the order who are worthy and perfect, kiss the cat on its buttocks. Then each [returns] to his place and, speaking certain responses, they incline their heads toward the cat. “Forgive us!” says the master, and the one next to him repeats this, a third responding [says], “We know, master!” A fourth says: “And we must obey.”
When this has been done, they [put] out the candles, and turn to the practice of the most disgusting lechery.
 The Devil Appears to St. Dominic Many assert that Pope Gregory’s association of black cats with satanic cults is why they’re considered unlucky and witch familiars. Although the bull urges vigorous repression of the alleged cults, it says nothing about destroying cats as part of the process. Still, there are claims it prompted widespread cat killing throughout the Middle Ages. Others say this purported massacre made it easier for the Black Plague to spread because fleas on rats were the source of the disease. That theory is relatively easily debunked.
While black cats got a bad rap from a world leader, things also didn’t turn out so well Konrad. After he accused a German count of indulging in satanic orgies, the Archbishop of Mainz convened an assembly of bishops and princes on July 25, 1233. They declared the count innocent. On July 30, Konrad was returning to Marburg when he was attacked and killed by several knights. Locals reportedly have long believed the place where he was killed is haunted.
No word on whether black cats congregate there or were complicit in Konrad’s murder.
Furthermore, these most miserable of men blaspheme against the Lord of Heaven and in their madness say that the Lord has done evil in casting out Lucifer into the bottomless pit.
Pope Gregory IX, Vox in Rama
Everyone knows of Switzerland’s dogged policy of neutrality. Fewer people know the Swiss Armed Forces exist. And the Swiss have invaded the bordering Principality of Liechtenstein several times, albeit without meaning to.
The Swiss Army actually dates back to the late Middle Ages. In the early 19th century “national defence – assuring domestic law and order and defending the territory of the Swiss Confederation – advanced to become a definitive strategic objective of the army.” The country has compulsory military service and last year had more than 143,000 soldiers in its army.
Liechtenstein likewise maintains neutrality. With an area of less than 62 square miles and a 2019 population of just more than 38,000 it’s no surprise that it’s one of three dozen countries without a military. It also has no currency, instead using the Swiss franc. Yet the 20th century saw the Swiss violate Liechtenstein’s borders four times. And the last incursion was just 14 years ago.
- On October 14, 1968, Swiss soldiers accidentally fired five mortar shells into Liechtenstein while practicing about two miles from the border. Although the shells hit the country’s only ski resort, Liechtenstein authorities reported no one was hurt and they would “only mildly” protest.
- In August 1976, 75 Swiss militiamen were on a training maneuver with 50 horses. They took a wrong turn and just before midnight ended up in the hamlet of Iradug, some 1,600 feet into Liechtenstein. A Swiss spokesman said such events could occur because there were no border gates between the countries. Besides, he added, it was “not impossible that the soldiers were even offered coffee by the villagers.”
- In December 1985, anti-tank grenades launched during Swiss army maneuvers landed in Liechtenstein. The armaments started a fire that destroyed 600 acres of forest. The fire threatened the village of Balzers, whose mayor accused the Swiss of irresponsible conduct. Switzerland issued a formal apology, promising it would pay for the damage caused.
- In October 1992, Swiss army recruits on maneuvers received written orders to establish an observation post in the town of Triesenberg. The problem? Triesenberg is in Liechtenstein, not Switzerland. The soldiers asked a woman if they could set up the post in her garage. She agreed but contacted authorities given her country’s lack of an army.
- The last known incursion started February 28, 2007, as some 170 recruits went on a training march. Plagued by bad weather, the company commander led them in the wrong direction until they were over a mile into Liechtenstein. Upon realizing the mistake, the troops immediately returned to Switzerland. Although the solders carried assault rifles they had no ammunition. The Liechtenstein government took it well, one spokesman saying, “No problem, these things happen.”
So five “invasions” in less than 40 years. The next time you hear about Swiss neutrality, remember poor Liechtenstein. Hopefully, the Swiss Army now carries GPS devices.
It is not seldom that Swiss soldiers come over for a beer, although it is forbidden. We really don’t mind that much.
Liechtenstein government official,
Sarasota Herald-Tribune, September 1, 1976
Interesting Reading in the Interweb Tubez
Nonbookish Linkage
- I’ve known this for nearly 50 years: you don’t need to believe in God to tell right from wrong
Bookish Linkage
It’s amazing how much “mature wisdom” resembles being too tired.
Robert Heinlein, The Notebooks of Lazarus Long
As noted in the last installment of Loco Lawsuits, incorporeality makes it difficult to haul deities into court. But, as one aphorism maintains, “Where there’s a will there’s a lawsuit.”
Adrian Moon, a California prison inmate, is well known to the Central Division of Califonia’s U.S. District Court. He’s filed plenty of challenges to his incarceration. In a 2019 habeas corpus petition, “Satan the Devil” was one of the defendants. Moon’s petition asserted that “Satan the Devil” ordered his underlings to force Moon into slavery and bondage. He also claimed that “Satan the devil,” against the Ten Commandments, criminally violated his unalienable rights as a man. Finally, there was “Ineffective Assistance of Evil Satanic Counsel.”
While the judge called Moon’s allegations “largely unintelligible and delusional,” that isn’t why he dismissed the petition. Rather, he invoked the well-established rule that before a federal habeas corpus action can be brought, state courts must first be presented with and rule upon the claims. At least as of the time of the judge’s ruling, state courts had not addressed Satan’s role in Moon’s imprisonment.
The devil also was a defendant in a much earlier Pennsylvania federal court lawsuit. Gerald Mayo sued “Satan and His Staff” in 1971 for violating his civil rights. The lawsuit claimed that on numerous occasions Satan caused Mayo misery, placed deliberate obstacles in his path, and caused Mayo’s downfall. Satan’s unearthliness was a problem. “We question whether plaintiff may obtain personal jurisdiction over the defendant in this judicial district,” the court said in dismissing the action. “The complaint contains no allegation of residence in this district.”
Don’t you know there ain’t no Devil, that’s just God when he’s drunk
Tom Waits, Title track, Heartattack and Vine
In 1386, a large, diverse crowd gathered in the public square in Falaise, Normandy, France. They were there to witness the execution of a prisoner convicted of murder after mutilating the face and arms of a child. The prisoner wore a new suit of men’s clothes and even the hangman provided himself with a new rope and gloves. In its sentencing, the town tribunal ordered that the prisoner’s head and legs be mangled with a knife before the hanging. In other words, lex talionis, “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But the criminal wasn’t human. It was a sow, one that unfortunately indulged in eating an infant on the street.
 A sow on trial In 1522, Bartholomew Chassenée was appointed to represent rats charged in Autun, France, with the crime of having eaten the barley crop. He argued that his clients hadn’t properly been served with process by the loudly spoken declaration that they stand trial because all rats, not just those in the village, had to be informed of the charges. An order was then issued that the summons be read from the pulpits of all the parishes in the Autun diocese. When the rats again failed to appear in court, Chassenée bought even more time. He argued that because the rats were widely dispersed, they needed time to prepare to and come to the court.
Chassenée was even more innovative when the rats didn’t appear a third time. This time he said that even though his clients wanted to appear, they would be putting their lives at risk if they tried to come to court. They feared attack by hostile cats — and since the cats belonged to the humans, he asked that cat owners be required to restrain their cats. Evidently weary of the delay and struggles, the plaintiffs didn’t resist the argument and judgment was entered in favor of the rats.
These were far from the only time animals were called to answer to medieval courts. As comical as it may seem today, records indicate animal trials occurred throughout Europe, the majority in the 15th, 16th, and 17th centuries. One author cites over 200 cases between 824 and 1906, when a dog was sentenced to death in Switzerland for assisting in a murder and robbery.
Nor were these ramshackle affairs. The trials were conducted as if the accused were human. And distinction existed between animals that were in the service of man and those not subject to human control. The former, such as swine, cows, dogs, horses, and sheep, could be arrested, tried, convicted, and executed in secular courts. The latter, such as insects and rodents, fell within the jurisdiction of ecclesiastical courts, which were believed able to expel the defendants and had the power of anathema and excommunication. (Chassenée would even write A Treatise on the Excommunication of Insects.)
Articles about these trials and the theories behind them continue to appear in modern law reviews. So perhaps it can be said that these actions helped form today’s American judicial process.
The judicial prosecution of animals, resulting in their excommunication by the Church or their execution by the hangman, had its origin in the common superstition of the age, which has left such a tragical record of itself in the incredibly absurd and atrocious annals of witchcraft.
E.P. Evans, The Criminal Prosecution and Capital Punishment of Animals
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