When you hear the phrase cursed souls, you probably picture individuals who bargained with the Devil and paid a steep price. From haunted painters to notorious witches, history is peppered with such chilling tales.
Cursed Souls and Their Fiery Pacts
10 Christoph Haizmann
Christoph Haizmann was a painter who worked across Bavaria and Austria in the late 1600s. His life took a dark turn on August 29, 1677, when he collapsed under what contemporaries described as the torments of a witch’s curse. During interrogation he confessed that nine years earlier he had signed a pact with the Devil to escape a cycle of poverty and deep depression, agreeing to become the Devil’s earthly son while refusing the promised riches and mystical tomes.
Local Catholic priest Leopold Braun summoned exorcists from the Abbey of Mariazell. After a series of exorcisms, Haizmann reported a vision in which the Devil appeared as a massive dragon clutching the very contract he had written. Haizmann claimed he seized the document and tore it apart, after which his symptoms vanished.
Free of the initial affliction, Haizmann resumed painting, and the Devil featured in most of his canvases. With each new work the demon grew more twisted and hideous, and Haizmann’s possession‑like symptoms resurfaced after he moved in with his sister and her husband. He also entered the Brotherhood of the Holy Cross.
Haizmann kept a journal detailing his ongoing spiritual battle. He wrote of frequent demonic temptations offering worldly pleasures, while angels urged him toward penitence. A second round of exorcisms finally quieted his torments, and he adopted the name Brother Chrysostom, dedicating the remainder of his life to a devout religious existence.
The story might have faded into obscurity if not for Sigmund Freud’s paper, which interpreted Satan as a symbol of Haizmann’s recently deceased father—an embodiment of both fear and a need for protection. Modern scholars tend to view Haizmann’s condition as likely schizophrenia.
9 Paulo Gil
The Devil was said to roam colonial‑era Brazil, and the journals of a freedman named João Batista recount the deeds of a sorcerer named Paulo Gil. Gil allegedly sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for deadly powers, with his first victim being a slave he had taken a fancy to. The slave’s owner disapproved, and the slave remained just out of Gil’s reach, but both the slave and the owner eventually required exorcisms thanks to Gil’s demonic influence.
Batista relates how Gil offered him a “mandinga pouch,” promising it would keep him safe. Batista refused, but Gil persisted, eventually luring him on a nighttime trek to a crossroads. After a brief disappearance, Gil returned accompanied by seven shadowy figures. Batista fled, only to be wracked with excruciating pain days later. Confronting Gil, the sorcerer admitted he had stolen some of Batista’s blood and given it to his demons.
When Batista again rejected Gil’s offers, a supernatural storm swept over the village, finally lifting only after Batista prayed to St. Anne, denying the Devil and his demons any claim to his blood.
This tale mirrors traditional Brazilian folklore: Devil worship among enslaved peoples, magical rites at crossroads, blood‑siphoning, and stormy retribution when the Devil is spurned. St. Anne was a popular protective saint in those narratives.
8 Antoine Rose
In 1477, a Savoyard witch named Antoine Rose—later known as the Witch of Savoy—found herself on trial. She claimed she turned to the Devil out of desperate need for money. A neighbor introduced her to a secretive circle that urged her to appeal to the Devil for aid.
The Devil manifested as a man called Robinet, promising her a bag of gold and silver on the condition that she renounce God and pay him homage. He also gave her a stick, a jar of ointment, and specific instructions: rub the stick with the ointment, mount the stick, and chant “Go, in the Devil’s name, go!” to achieve flight.
Rose testified that the Devil’s worship involved dancing, feasting, stepping on the consecrated host, and even kissing the Devil’s hindquarters when he transformed into a black dog. She described his hoarse voice and the terror she felt upon first meeting him. Her testimony became the second documented case confirming the broomstick‑flight myth; the first had been Guillaume Edelin’s confession in 1453, when he admitted to flying on a broom while being tortured.
7 Oliver Cromwell
Oliver Cromwell’s litany of sins is well‑recorded, and after his death his corpse was exhumed and publicly displayed when the monarchy reclaimed power. Contemporary propaganda often depicted him with the Devil’s horns.
One legend claims Cromwell struck a pact with the Devil to secure his political and military triumphs. When he died on September 3, 1658, a massive storm—later called Oliver’s Wind—swept the country, supposedly the Devil coming to claim his soul. Royalist pamphleteers used the storm to cement the image of Cromwell as the Devil’s champion, contrasting him with Charles I, portrayed as Christ’s ally.The tempest toppled trees in Brampton Bryan Park, which were said to have been felled by the Devil dragging Cromwell to hell. After his death, children were warned that misbehaving kids would be dragged by Cromwell himself, and his ghost was reputed to haunt ruins, appearing as a grim, angry specter.
Numerous natural and man‑made landmarks originally named for the Devil were later renamed after Cromwell, a deliberate attempt to tarnish his legacy.
6 St. Basil And The Slave
Saint Basil, born in Turkey in AD 329, came from a steadfast Christian family. He authored roughly three hundred letters that survive to this day. Legend tells of a young woman who approached him because her husband—a slave—had sold his soul to the Devil in order to marry her.
The Devil kept his promise, and the marriage took place. The ex‑slave, now unable to attend church, pray, or make the sign of the cross, was forced to confess his pact. Basil prayed fervently, and the contract the slave had written with the Devil was said to have been delivered on the wind. Basil tore it up, liberating the former slave from his demonic bonds.
In the Devil’s own words, humanity is eager to bargain with him for any purpose, only to turn their backs once they have what they desire—a pointed critique of the “shady nature of Christians.”
5 Margery Jourdemayne And Roger Bolingbroke
The year 1441 saw a scandal that rocked England. While most of the accused were high‑ranking nobles, one exception was Margery Jourdemayne, often called the “Witch of Eye.” She had already served time in Windsor for sorcery‑related offenses and, after release, promised to stay out of trouble.
Instead, she resumed casting spells and providing magical potions for those seeking help with conception and love. She became entangled in a plot involving Eleanor, a lady‑in‑waiting who rose to become the wife of the Duke of Gloucester. Margery was accused of supplying the potions Eleanor used to influence the duke.
Meanwhile, Roger Bolingbroke faced charges for drafting a horoscope that predicted King Henry’s death—implying the Duke of Gloucester would ascend to power. Bolingbroke confessed that he had consulted the Devil at Eleanor’s urging, admitting to conspiring with demonic forces.
Margery was also arrested for creating a wax image of the king, which she claimed was a fertility charm. A violent storm erupted on the night of her arrest, reinforcing the belief that she was in league with the Devil.
Ultimately, Margery was burned at the stake for witchcraft. Bolingbroke suffered the gruesome fate of being hanged, drawn, and quartered. Southwell died mysteriously in prison, Home was pardoned, and Eleanor was burned by order of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
4 Benvenuto Cellini And The Sicilian Priest
Benvenuto Cellini, one of the Renaissance’s greatest sculptors, penned an autobiography that recounts his encounter with a Sicilian priest obsessed with necromancy. The priest claimed he could summon demons, and Cellini, ever curious, agreed to witness a ritual at the Colosseum.
Accompanied by his friend Vincenzio Romili, Cellini arrived to find the priest garbed in necromantic robes, drawing circles on the arena floor and tending fires and incense. After an hour‑and‑a‑half of chanting, the priest claimed to have summoned legions of demons filling the Colosseum. When asked to make a request, the priest asked to be reunited with his “Sicilian Angelica.”
The trio was then instructed to bring a virgin boy. They dragged a twelve‑year‑old apprentice and another friend, Agnolino Gaddi, and placed the boy inside a pentacle. The boy’s screams described thousands of demons and giant beings trying to breach the circle. While the priest trembled, Gaddi’s terrified outburst caused everyone to burst into laughter, and the demons retreated—except a few that scurried across rooftops.
Later, the priest tried to persuade Cellini to co‑author a book on summoning demons for hidden treasures. Cellini, however, was soon occupied with a papal commission and claimed his focus remained on his art, not on any “Angelica.”
3 John Dee
John Dee was an Elizabethan scientist and occult enthusiast who worked alongside the enigmatic Edward Kelley in Queen Elizabeth I’s court. Dee’s influence was such that he cast an astrological chart to determine the exact moment of the queen’s coronation.
By 1581, Dee claimed to communicate with angels through crystal balls, and these angels instructed him to travel the continent. The partnership with Kelley dissolved when Dee disagreed with the instructions Kelley claimed to receive.Back in England, Dee faced public suspicion over his occult pursuits. The queen offered him a posting in Manchester as warden of the Collegiate Church, hoping to keep him out of the capital’s spotlight. Rumors persisted, and Dee was eventually asked to oversee a group of children allegedly possessed by the Devil. He refused; the man who accepted the case was later executed, citing Dee’s writings as a reference.
Rumors of a personal relationship with the Devil climaxed when a table in Dee’s home was found marked by a mysterious burn, purportedly the Devil’s hoofprint from a summoning. The table still resides at Chetham’s School. The British Museum also houses an obsidian mirror that Dee claimed allowed him to channel otherworldly spirits.
After Queen Elizabeth’s death, Dee’s congregation grew weary of the controversy. He petitioned King James I to clear his name, but his efforts proved futile.
2 Katharina Kepler And Lena Stublerin
Katharina Kepler, mother of astronomer Johannes Kepler, was a widow when accusations of witchcraft surfaced. Ursula Reinbold alleged that Katharina had poisoned her, and the court offered a “way out”: cure the suffering woman to prove innocence. Katharina refused to incriminate herself, and the case was dropped for lack of evidence. She then sued for defamation with her son’s support.
Later, a group of girls claimed Katharina had cursed them with paralysis and pain. After a failed bribery attempt, she fled. The first case collapsed when Reinbold was revealed to be a prostitute. The second case involved 49 counts of maleficia, with the chief accusation being her dealings with the Devil.
The most sensational claim alleged that Katharina had sought someone willing to help her dig up her father’s corpse and remove his skull to fashion a drinking cup—an act typical of demonic rites. While awaiting trial, Chancellor Ulrich Broll tortured suspected witch Lena Stublerin. Under duress, Stublerin confessed that she first met the Devil beneath an oak tree with a floating dog, naming him Barthlen. She reported 18 years of intercourse with the Devil, multiple murders, and the ability to summon storms. She was beheaded, and her remains reduced to ash.
Katharina faced similar accusations of killing livestock and children by reciting incantations. Her trial lasted six years until, in 1620, Johannes Kepler intervened, relocating his family to Germany and dismantling the fabricated evidence. Katharina was exonerated but died six months after regaining her freedom.
1 Michael Scot
Michael Scot, a vocal critic of the black arts, was born in Fife around 1175. He studied at Oxford and traveled the royal courts of Britain and the continent before settling in Sicily as court astrologer to Frederick II.
Scot authored extensive treatises on necromancy and black magic—subjects he publicly condemned—leading contemporaries to suspect he practiced what he wrote about under the guise of “science.” By 1230, back in England, rumors swirled that he commanded demonic familiars that fetched him exotic delicacies each night. His own transport was said to be a demon‑horse that carried him across the night sky, and he supposedly traversed oceans by riding a sea creature risen from the depths of hell.
One legend tells of Scot bargaining with the Devil to build a road for his father’s land. After the road’s completion, the Devil demanded further work; Scot obliged, sending the Devil to the beach at Kirkcaldy to spin an endless rope from sand. The Devil labored until he finally collapsed.
Another tale recounts Scot confronting French pirates raiding Scottish ships. With his demon‑horse, he ordered three stomps: the first made all church bells in Paris ring, the second caused palace towers to crumble, and the third prompted the king to end piracy.
Local folklore around Kirkcaldy includes streams Scot allegedly created to halt devils chasing him, hares that were once witches providing quarry for his hunts, and a cave reputed to host his demonic rites—still associated with toxic fumes as late as the 19th century.