We all know of places with a distinct atmosphere - places, that for better or ill, make us feel something intensely. For me, Horb am Neckar is one of those places.
Located at the edge of the Black Forest, the town of Horb am Neckar rises on a ridge above the Neckar. Cresting the ridge is the Horb Stiftkirche, and the buildings of the Dominikanerinnenkloster (Dominican Convent).
Located around and behind the former convent are the towers that indicate that this was once a powerful regional city - the Schütteturm (Chute Tower), the Schurkenturm (Rogues Tower) and the Luziferturm (Lucifer Tower).
Some of those tower names are very evocative and speak of their former use. The Schurkenturm was once used to imprison thieves, drunks and other ne’er-do-wells, while the Luziferturm was where those accused of witchcraft would be imprisoned.
More on that in a moment.
For centuries, Horb was not part of the Duchy of Württemberg, but rather a possession of Austria, in a region known as Hohenberg. As such, it needed to be heavily defended, as the patchwork nature of late medieval Europe meant that war was a constant threat.
If walk down from the Stiftskirche, past the town fountain downhill, you’ll be walking through an area that used to be inhabited by many powerful merchants. It was to one of these merchants that Christina Rauscher was born in 1570. From childhood, she was raised to take part in the family business and she grew to become a witty, observant young woman.
As is so often the case, it was these qualities that got Christina in trouble. After Christina uncovered a plot to deceive her father, the other merchants of the town decided that something needed to be done. As their luck would have it, this was the turn of the 17th century, a period of superstition and terrible witch hunts across Germany.
Whispers began to spread across Horb that Christina and her mother were engaged in witchcraft, cursing their enemies and consorting with Satan. It took a while to gather steam, but eventually, both Christina and her husband were arrested in 1604.
Christina’s husband was soon released and began petitioning for her release. Christina, on the other hand, was questioned repeatedly and tortured at regular intervals over the course of an entire year. So bad was the torture, that she lost her unborn child. Yet she never bent, never broke, never confessed to anything.
Eventually, they had to let her go. Even then, there was some degree of process to be followed, and there was too much scrutiny for the town to arbitrarily execute her.
In Christina’s situation, most of us would probably simply disappear, keep our heads down and not make any more noise. Not Christina.
First, she sued the town council, tying them up for years, until the town council, which included many of her father’s rivals, were dismissed.
Next, she petitioned for laws that would prevent public witchcraft accusations from being made - a deadly threat. Then, she began to passionately advocate for those accused throughout the entire region.
So widespread did Christina’s fame become, that the Archduke of Austria, Maximilian Ernst, summoned her for a meeting in 1609. After hearing her story, he did something entirely unprecedented in the German=speaking lands at the time: He gave her official instructions to seek out, and end witch trials.
She became a hunter - of witch hunters.
This had never happened before, and it would never happen - yet through her influence, witch trials ended across Hohenberg and would never break out again with such ferocity. She died in 1617, at age 47.
Personally, I think that Christina Rauscher should be known across the country, if not internationally. Her courage, determination and fearlessness are an example to all of us, even centuries later.
However, she has to be merely content with a street in Horb named after her.
Horb is a wonderful town to wander and photograph, and you’ll find many wonderful things to photograph, including the aforementioned Stiftskirche and towers, the painted town hall and the Liebfrauenkirche*.
One particularly delightful spot I’d recommend to you is the Geßlersches Amtshaus, the former home and office of the local bailiff, Johann Josef Geßler.
Look around the left side of the bright pink building and you’ll find a mural of a man being spooked by a spectral woman. The text, paraphrased, reads: ‘Now that the white lady’s gone / we can all think again’.
This is a depiction of Horb’s favourite local ghost - Maria Elisabetha Gessler von Braunegg. Johann Josef Geßler’s wife, she lived at the beginning of the eighteenth century and thought that her husband’s role and responsibilities extended to her.
When the city burned down in 1725, she threw a tantrum until she was promised the building opposite the house wouldn’t be rebuilt - she wanted to enjoy the view of the valley.
When Johann died, Maria Elisabetha took the town’s most important documentation and locked it up, only letting a scant few access them, and always in her presence.
She strode around town, issuing orders and steadfastly refused to move out of the building for the new bailiff. Rather than force the issue, the good people of Horb simply let her be.
However, it seems like even death wasn’t enough to keep Maria down. To this day, there are reports of her ghostly figure roaming the halls of the Amtshaus, wailing spectral instructions and frightening any public servants unlucky enough to be stuck there after hours.
Incidentally, her descendants still own Hotel Schiff*across the street. I also recommend that place for a beer and a meal. It’s worth it just for the interior and the portraits of the Gessler family on display.
Want to see the rest of my photos of Horb?
Address: Isenburger Str. 15, 72160 will get you to the train station carpark.
You can catch the RB14a or RE87 trains to Horb am Neckar station from Stuttgart.
More Info:
*- Links in German