The Zugarramurdi Witch Trials: The Spanish Inquisition vs Basque Witches

In 1610, the Spanish Inquisition came to the Basque village of Zugarramurdi investigating reports of a witch's sabbath. What followed was Spain's largest witch trial—and an unexpected development that would influence the end of witch hunts across Europe. The Basque Country, straddling the border between Spain and France, had a strong tradition of folk magic. Wise women practiced herbalism and healing. Stories of 'sorginak' (witches) who could fly to their sabbaths and transform into animals were part of local culture. These weren't feared outsiders—they were neighbors, integrated into community life. But in 1608, a French witch hunt across the border sent refugees fleeing into Spain. They brought tales of elaborate sabbaths, devil-worship, and malevolent magic. Young people in Zugarramurdi began claiming they'd attended these sabbaths, describing orgies, cannibalism, and pacts with the Devil in lurid detail. The Spanish Inquisition, unlike the secular courts conducting most European witch trials, approached the case methodically. Inquisitor Alonso de Salazar Frías was assigned to investigate. He was about to do something revolutionary: actually investigate. The Inquisition arrested 53 people. Under interrogation (the Inquisition did use torture, though more restrictively than secular courts), 29 confessed to witchcraft. They described flying to sabbaths in the form of black animals, worshipping a demon-goat, and performing malevolent magic against their neighbors. Eleven witches were sentenced to death—burned at the stake in Logroño in 1610 in Spain's largest auto-da-fé. Six were burned in effigy (already dead). Five were burned alive, still proclaiming they'd recanted false confessions but the Inquisition didn't believe their recantations. But Salazar Frías was troubled. The confessions were remarkably similar—too similar, as if coached or coerced. The accused claimed to fly to sabbaths at the same time they were seen at home by witnesses. Children who'd confessed admitted they'd lied to avoid punishment or because adults pressured them. Salazar Frías did something extraordinary: he conducted an empirical investigation. He visited the Basque region and invited anyone with knowledge of witchcraft to testify under a promise of leniency. Over 1,800 people came forward—including many who'd previously confessed. His findings were devastating to witch-trial orthodoxy: Children had invented stories or been coached by adults. Confessions were produced by fear of torture, not genuine guilt. The accused had alibis proving they couldn't have attended sabbaths. Physical evidence of malevolent magic didn't exist. Mass hysteria, not actual witchcraft, explained the outbreak. Salazar Frías wrote a report to the Inquisition's Supreme Council: 'I have not found even indications from which to infer that a single act of witchcraft has really occurred.' He argued that believing in witches and persecuting them created more 'witches' than actually existed. He recommended leniency and skepticism. Remarkably, the Spanish Inquisition—notorious for religious persecution—agreed. In 1614, new guidelines made witch trials extremely difficult to prosecute. Evidence standards were raised. Torture was further restricted. The Inquisition effectively ended witch trials in Spain decades before most of Europe. Salazar Frías's empirical approach influenced thinkers across Europe. His investigation is considered one of the first examples of modern scientific methodology applied to supernatural claims. He didn't ask 'Do witches exist?' He asked 'What evidence do we have that these specific people committed these specific acts?' The Zugarramurdi trials are unique because they show persecution being stopped through critical thinking and empirical investigation. While most witch hunts accelerated until they collapsed from exhaustion, Spain's ended because someone in power demanded evidence. The village of Zugarramurdi today has embraced its witchy history. There's a witch museum in a local cave where sabbaths allegedly occurred. During the summer solstice, they hold a festival celebrating local folklore. The witches who were burned are remembered, and their persecution is acknowledged as injustice. Study Zugarramurdi, young witch. It teaches us that skepticism and empirical investigation can counter moral panic. That demanding evidence is itself an act of resistance. That even institutions known for persecution can be swayed by reason—sometimes. It teaches us the power of a single person with authority choosing justice over conformity. Salazar Frías could have continued the trials, could have burned hundreds more. Instead, he investigated honestly and challenged his own institution. And it teaches us that communities can reclaim their history. Zugarramurdi could have buried its past in shame. Instead, they honor it, educate about it, and ensure those executed for witchcraft are remembered. We remember Zugarramurdi's witches. We remember Salazar Frías's courage. We remember that evidence matters, that skepticism saves lives, and that institutions can change—when brave people push them to. We are still here. We remember. We resist. We endure.