The Night Battles: Witchcraft and Agrarian Cults in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries

by Carlo Ginzburg, John Tedeschi (Translator), Anne C. Tedeschi (Translator)

Based on research in the Inquisitorial archives of Northern Italy, The Night Battles recounts the story of a peasant fertility cult centered on the benandanti, literally, "good walkers." These men and women described fighting extraordinary ritual battles against witches and wizards in order to protect their harvests. While their bodies slept, the souls of the benandanti were able to fly into the night sky to engage in epic spiritual combat for the good of the village. Carlo Ginzburg looks at how the Inquisition's officers interpreted these tales to support their world view that the peasants were in fact practicing sorcery. The result of this cultural clash, which lasted for more than a century, was the slow metamorphosis of the benandati into the Inquisition's mortal enemies—witches.

Relying upon this exceptionally well-documented case study, Ginzburg argues that a similar transformation of attitudes—perceiving folk beliefs as diabolical witchcraft—took place all over Europe and even spread to the New World. In his new preface, Ginzburg reflects on the interplay of chance and discovery, as well as on the relationship between anomalous cultural notions and historical generalizations.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Religion, Witchcraft, Folklore, Italy, European History

240 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1966

About the author

Born in 1939, he is the son of of Italian-Ukranian translator Leone Ginzburg and Italian writer Natalia Ginzburg. Historian whose fields of interest range from the Italian Renaissance to early modern European History, with contributions in art history, literary studies, popular cultural beliefs, and the theory of historiography.

Reviews

[Katie · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book had a bit of an uphill battle against expectations: I've been hearing about it for years before I finally got around to reading it, and I already knew the rather amazing central focus. I also really liked The Cheese and the Worms: The Cosmos of a Sixteenth-century Miller.

Night Battles is fascinating. Not so much on a page-to-page level: if anything, it can sometimes get bogged down in individual details there. But it's central conceit is really amazing: it's a study of a group of peasants in Fruili who called themselves benandanti, most easily translated as "do-gooders." These benandanti were "born with the caul" (when a piece of membrane covers the newborn's head), an event which destined them to a period of service as what essentially amounts to an anti-witch. Four times a year during the Ember Days the benandanti would arms themselves with sticks made of fennel and go out into the nearby fields. There, they would 'battle' with witches armed with sorghum sticks. The outcome of the battle would destine the region to a fertile harvest or a period of famine. It's a wild story, one that sounds like it's cribbed from a fantasy novel (but if you go read Guy Gavriel Kay's ) Tigana, you'll find out it's the other way around). There are witches, werewolves, and fortune tellers all over these pages.

Ginzburg explores the potential origin of these ideas, but his real focus is in how they were perceived. Much like The Cheese and the Worms, this is a book about how popular religion intersects and interacts with its more highly-educated counterpart. The benandanti were originally met with confusion but at least tentative acceptance: the inquisitors honestly didn't really seem to know what to make of them, and if they seemed like solid Christians and were willing to name some witches, they were often let go. As time progressed, however, Ginzburg traces a subtle trend in inquisitorial questioning, suggesting that the Holy Office made increasing efforts to make these benandanti fit into the pattern that was then easily identifiable as witchcraft. They were repeatedly asked what role the devil had in their gatherings, whether they were supposed to abjure God, and whether infanticide played a role. By the end, the 'night battles' of the benandanti had been assimilated into the idea of the witches's sabbath.

It's an undeniably interesting book, as all of Ginzburg's seem to be. It's not always clear or accessible in its presentation, though - Ginzburg's style is to present a mass of case studies, and then comment on them when he feels like it. It's an interesting way to organize a book, but can be a little dizzying.

[Fazilet Özdiker · Rating 5 out of 5]

Çevirisini Ceren Sungur'un yaptığı çok değerli bir kitaptı benim için Gece Savaşları. Haydar Akın'ın Cadılar ve Cadı Avı kitabı ile eş zamanlı okumaya başlayıp Gece Savaşları'nı daha evvel bitirdim. Cadılarve Cadı Avı da bitince yine ona da bir şeyler yazacağım zira iki kitap da araştırma tarih okurları için bulunmaz nimet.

Dört bölümde incelemiş yazar konuyu. Bölümler sırasıyla şöyle:
1. Gece Savaşları
2. Ölü Alayları
3. Engizitörler ve Cadılar Arasında Benanditi
4. Şabat'ta Benanditi

İlk bölüm, 1575-1582 yılları arasında Roma Engizisyonu tarafından sorgulanıp sapkınlık nedeniyle mahkum edilen iki Benandante'nin hesaplarını ele alıyor. Paulo Gaspurotto ve Battista Moduco adlı bu kişilerin iddialarını ayrıntılı bir şekilde inceliyor Ginzburg. 16. ve 17. yüzyıllar arasında Cadı oldukları öne sürülen ve engizisyona ihbar edilen Kuzey İtalya'daki Friuli köylülerinin verdikleri ifadeler sonrası tarım kültürünü, engizisyon arşivleri ile elde ettiği bilgileri de görüyoruz yazarın.
İkinci bölümde, Alp Dağlarının doğusunda yaşamış buraya yayılmış geleneklerini koruyan ve gece alayları ile uğraşanlara değiniyor. Ölülerin tören alaylarını çevreleyen geleneklerin Germen veya Slav Avrupa'sından kaynaklanıp kaynaklanmadığını da araştırıp öfkelendiriyor. Üçüncü bölüm benim en çok ilgimi çeken kısımlardan oluşuyordu. Benanditilerin bir süre Engizisyon tarafından görmezden gelindiğinin anlatıldığı ve bu göz ardı edilmenin nedenlerinin sorgulandığı yerleri okurken birçok cümleyi araştırma gereği duydum. Son bölüm ise Şabat konusunu okumak isteyenler için etkileyici olacaktır.

Bir de Ginzburg'un ulaştığı arşivlerden ve içerikten kısaca bahsedeyim. Arşivler sayesinde Benandanti (İyi Yürüyüşçüler) adlı gizli topluluğu keşfediyoruz. Her mevsim başında bir perşembe günü gerçekleşen cadılar ile Benandanti topluluğunun savaşı benim hayli ilgimi çekti. Topluluk, hasatlarını cadılar ve büyücülerden korumaya çalışıyor. Bu savaşlarda ruhlarının çeşitli hayvanların üzerinde gökyüzüne ve kırsal kesimdeki yerlere gittiğine ve yerel mahsulleri tehdit eden cadılar ile savaştıklarına inanılıyormuş. 1575 yılında Friulian Kilisesi'nin dikkatini çeken bu durum yıllar boyu araştırıldıktan sonra çoğu ölüme mahkum edilmiş. Kitapta bahsedilen Öfkeli Sürü'ye değinmek istiyorum. Ruhları ile bedenleri ayrı yerlerde olan aslında arafta kalan bir topluluk onlar. Dünyada olan bedenlerinden ayrı gezen ruhları ile savaşıyorlar. Bu da ilginç başka bir detaydı.

Hem bilgiler hem kültler ile ilgili anlatımlar ile bence şahane bir serüvendi. Cadılar, bu ve benzeri topluluklar ve kültler hakkında okumak isteyenlere mutlaka tavsiye ediyorum.

[John David · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book presents an extraordinarily complex set of historical data that even beginning to write about it seems like a daunting task. Making matters short and sweet for the sake of reviewing a book of such scholarship might not be advisable, but that’s what I’ll try to do here.

This book carefully combines an analysis of folklore, popular tradition, and culture. In the Friuli region of Italy, a group known as the “benandanti” (literally “well-farers” or “good walkers” but literally translated here as the “night battlers”) leave their villages on prescribed nights of the year to engage in fights with witches. These men and women who identify themselves as benandanti are born with the caul – that is, a piece of amniotic sac around their necks – and are thereby marked as benandanti from birth. According to them, the purpose of these nighttime adventures were to fight witches who were trying to infect and kill crops; they saw themselves as protectors of the crop. Therefore, they are usually identified as an “agrarian cult.” The origins of this cult are ambiguous, but seem to date back to older German divinity cults, and especially the auspices of the goddess Diana. No matter their origins, this is most important: the benandanti always imagined themselves as warriors for the Christian God, and completely Christian themselves.

The most fascinating part of the book, which by far takes up most of its content, is what happens when this cult meets the Catholic Church in the form of the Inquisition. Over a very long period of time, this interaction slowly turns a very Christian cult into a devilish coven of witches convening at a sabbat fighting against God, and therefore against the Church. Members were called before Church trials and demanded to explain their experiences. Some claimed that the night battles were oneiric visions, while others insinuated that they were quite “real.” Other irregularities were quickly latched onto by the Church, and it was soon turned into, at least in the eyes of the Church, nothing short of witchcraft.

Because Ginzburg spends most of his time showing this careful transformation, the numerous – perhaps a few dozen – case studies presented are all carefully examined, sometimes dropped, picked up later in the text, and then re-examined; this can make the thread of the argument and its most prominent actors difficult to keep straight. Despite Ginzburg’s tight, short presentation, parts of the book can seem repetitive. Of course, this aspect of the book is essential for scholars of the Italian folklore of the time, but it can be more than a little tedious for someone just interested in one of the more seminal texts in the development of what we now call “microhistory.” While this might be difficult for someone with a less-than-scholarly interest in this material, it is nonetheless a careful and very important study that deserves the attention it has garnered.

[icaro · Rating 4 out of 5]

quando vedo su un banco di libreria uno di quei tomi di centinaia di pagine, con titoli a sensazione e copertine a tinte forti che pretendono di spiegare che cosa sia stata la stregoneria, mi viene il nervoso e penso a Carlo Ginzburg.
In questo libro, circa 250 pagine di piccolo formato, il più originale storico modernista italiano in attività, ricostruisce una vicenda di ritualità magica, senza fronzoli, ma con grande rigore filologico.
E' stato il primo a ri-scoprire questi tipetti dei benandanti e poi molti ne hanno approffittato ma, a mio giudizio, l'originale resta sempre il migliore.
Uno di quei lavori dai quali si può evincere che la storiografia seria forse è un "mattone", ma non è mai una palla.

[Heideblume · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fatico a trovare qualcosa da dire che non sia banale.

Guy Gavriel Kay lo cita esplicitamente tra le fonti d'ispirazione de Il paese delle due lune quindi io mi sono approcciata a Ginzburg con tiepida curiosità; volevo solo approfondire il background senza alcuna aspettativa.

Al suo interno ho trovato un archivio minuzioso di deposizioni ed interrogatori condotti dall'Inquisizione Italiana nel Friuli del Seicento. Per un intero secolo osserviamo la nascita e l'evoluzione della figura folkloristica del benandante, il "portafortuna" dei campi; ne tracciamo i connotati, lo vediamo parteggiare prima per Dio e poi per il Diavolo, lo associamo prima alla fertilità dei campi e poi alle malattie del corpo e dello spirito; lo vediamo emigrare tra i popoli balcanici e dar vita ad una nuova figura.

Il viaggio all'interno di questa porzione di cultura italiana è stato magico, ma non privo di ostacoli. Il materiale raccolto dal professore infatti lascia poco spazio alle riflessioni personali di autore e lettore. La lettura risulta passiva, a tratti ripetitiva, dispersiva e rallentata ulteriormente da interi paragrafi di dialetto friulano seicentesco non tradotti.

Da leggere solo se si è convinti al 100%.

[John · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was so cool. It only took an afternoon or so to read, and I have been thinking about it ever since. Really interesting stuff. It has the perennial problem that microhistories tend to have - is any of this really applicable to anything, or is this just a minor little neat corner of history - but it does get one thinking.
Night Battles is about a small society of people discovered and investigated by the religious authorities; a people who shared a bizarre set of spiritual beliefs. In the late sixteenth century, a number of peasants who referred to themselves as benandanti began to attract the notice of inquisitors in northern Italy. These men, and a few women, claimed to have a special calling because they had been born with a caul – a piece of membrane which sometimes covers a newborn’s face at birth. The benandanti saw themselves as anti-witches, and soldiers of a sort, dedicated to identifying witches, curing their victims, and generally serving their communities against the forces of evil. One common belief was particularly extreme – a man named Moduco, addressing the inquisitors in 1580, explained it:
"I am a benandanti because I go with the others to fight four times a year, that is during the Ember Days, at night; I go invisibly in spirit and the body remains behind; we go forth in the service of Christ…[we fight the witches of the devil] we with bundles of fennel and they with sorghum stalks."
Many other self-proclaimed benandanti made identical claims, right down to the fennel and sorghum. They insisted that they were good Christians. They claimed that they were fighting to defend the harvest, and that if they lost to the witches the crops would fail.
Fighting witches with fennel stalks! That is amazing. To the inquisitors, however, there were good Christians, and there were people who were magically transported to nighttime gatherings, and one could not possibly fall into both categories. The peasants were insistent – they were not witches, they fought witches for Christ. Over decades of repeated cases, however, the church managed to combine ideas about benandanti with ideas about witches, and in the public mind the two groups started to be indistinguishable. Examining this process, Ginzburg argues, may help us understand how ideas and definitions of witchcraft came to be codified. The benandanti may provide a “new approach to the problem of the popular origins of witchcraft.”
Anyway. So cool. Apparently there were some people in Northern Europe who made similar claims, except they said they were werewolves who fought witches for the harvest. Crazy! It's like every historian's dream, to find some nutty little group like this to write a book about.

[Clara Mazzi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Uno studio affascinante e meraviglioso compiuto sull’analisi dei verbali dei processi per eresia condotti dall’Inquisizione nel Friuli del XVI secolo che mette a fuoco l’evoluzione di antichissimi culti agrari (non percepita dagli inquisitori, che non la ritennero nemmeno una forma d’eresia), ancora vivi nel 1500 (anche se si era perso molto del senso del culto originario) ma che nel giro di un secolo si trasformeranno in riti satanici e sabba stregoneschi.
Ginzburg comincia col rimettere insieme i pezzi di questi antichi riti, che vedevano delle battaglie notturne “benandanti” (i “buoni”) e le streghe e gli stregoni (i cattivi). Armati i primi di bastoncini di finocchio e i secondi con legnetti di saggina, devono battersi per 4 giovedì all’anno, le quattuor tempora: tempora d’inverno è la quarta domenica dell’avvento, tempora di primavera la quarta domenica di quaresima, tempora d’estate cade dopo la Pentecoste e quella d’autunno dopo la metà di settembre) su di un campo, gli uni contro gli altri. Se vincono i Benandanti, il raccolto sarà abbondante, viceversa se vincono le streghe, il raccolto sarà cattivo. Si era Benandante per diritto di nascita: si era nati con la camicia (e si portava sempre al collo, come un amuleto, un pezzo di placenta) e si veniva chiamati da una sorta di caporale (o angelo) che appariva di notte, quasi come in sogno e intimava di andare. Bisognava obbedire e il servizio durava una decina d’anni, grosso modo quando il predestinato raggiungeva la trentina. I Benandanti sostenevano che si recassero su questi campi solo in spirito, mentre il corpo rimaneva dentro la casa, ma rigido, come se fosse morto. Non andava toccato e soprattutto rigirato perché la sua anima era temporaneamente via, sul campo ma doveva anche poter rientrare. Tracce di questo rito le si trovano in tutta Italia e oltre: fino in Lituania.
La figura del Benandante nel corso del tempo muta in una sorta di medico ambulante: ci si rivolge ad uno di essi per curare qualcuno. Si riteneva che il malato lo fosse per colpa delle streghe e essendo a conoscenza del fatto che i Benandanti le conoscevano per via delle battaglie chiedendogli di mettersi in contatto con loro e di implorare affinché annullassero il maleficio.
Ed è proprio per questi loro poteri curativi un po’ stregoneschi che vengono denunciati alla curia, specialmente quando non riuscivano a curare le persone. La Chiesa allora ascolta di queste battaglie, di questi Benandanti ma non ne resta particolarmente né impressa né impressionata: i Benandanti infatti assicurano che loro si battono in nome del buon Dio e che difendono la fede cristiana. Tuttavia quando sentono la parola streghe, la Chiesa rizza le antenne e le domande alla fin fine vanno a parare sempre lì. Non solo: vuole indagare anche sulla presenza del Demonio.
A furia di domandare sempre e solo sulle streghe, sulla stregoneria, sui riti satanici (ed orgiastici, che si celebravano in parallelo, ma erano una deformazione di questi antichi culti e riti agrari), ecco che l’antico culto perde sempre più il suo attaccamento alle sue origini (non solo per le domande della Chiesa, però: lo stava comunque perdendo di suo, coll’inevitabile evoluzione dell’uomo) e si trasforma sempre più in un rito satanico (che non era affatto), con tanto di punizioni con torture e qualche rogo.
Fortunatamente l’accanimento contro le streghe in Italia non fu così violento come nel resto d’Europa (la chiesa romana fu una delle più illuminate sull’argomento) e nel giro di due secoli (cioè col Settecento) si smorzò di molto anche l’accanimento contro le streghe. Non si trovano più praticamente verbali per eresia ma soprattutto di storie di uomini che hanno raccontato e quindi portato alla luce un pezzo di storia dell’uomo affascinante – completamente ignorato dalla Chiesa.

[Brendan Campisi · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don't think I've read another historian who is as good as Ginzburg at painstakingly reconstructing a totally alien worldview, and at making its adherents vividly real on the page.

[DS25 · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lezione di metodo antropologico, dalla presentazione un po' asciutta ma che ha fatto scuola (ed è, nonostante l'età, imprescindibile).
I Benandanti è una lezione di lessico soprannaturale, dove si capisce quando ciò che reputiamo soprannaturale (ma non ciò che È soprannaturale, aggiungo personalmente) sia collegato all'esperienza quotidiana e alla nostra cultura, comprese le istituzioni atte a forgiarlo - l'inquisizione, in senso più o meno pesante, nel caso del testo.

Questa è la lezione che si può ricavare dal testo: non c'è impressione quotidiana slegata dal nostro vissuto, specialmente quando questa impressione imprime a sua volta i caratteri nel quotidiano.

[Morgan Baliviera · Rating 4 out of 5]

Saggio molto interessante, che analizza le credenze e i riti dei “benandanti”, figure, nel folklore agricolo friulano dell’epoca rinascimentale, tradizionalmente associate alla protezione delle messi e dei raccolti, in perenne scontro ed antitesi con streghe e stregoni. L’autore ne ripercorre la storia, basandosi sulle indagini dell’inquisizione e le confessioni dei contadini.

[Chiara Landi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Carlo Ginzburg nell’autunno del 1959, a Pisa, nella biblioteca della Scuola Normale, di cui era allora studente, prese a un tratto tre decisioni: che avrebbe fatto lo storico, che si sarebbe messo a studiare i processi di stregoneria, che si sarebbe concentrato non sulla persecuzione in quanto tale ma sulle vittime, sulle donne e sugli uomini accusati di stregoneria. Da quel momento il giovane storico iniziò a girare per l’Italia alla ricerca di processi inquisitori ali e un po’ per caso e un po’ per fortuna si imbatté in un documento che parlava di un “ben andante”. Così, arrivando all’archivio della Curia Arcivescovile di Udine, Carlo Ginzburg poté studiare una cinquantina di processi contro donne e uomini benandanti e pubblicare, nel 1966, un saggio storico fondamentale e prezioso.

Ma chi erano i benandanti? Dai processi emerge che erano uomini e donne nati con la camicia, cioè nati avvolti nel sacco amniotico, che erano costretti a uscire alcune volte all’anno, di solito durante le quattro tempora, a combattere di notte, armati con rami di finocchio, contro streghe e stregoni, armati di canne di sorgo. Se durante queste battaglie vincevano i benandanti, i raccolti erano buoni, se invece vincevano gli stregoni, c’era la carestia. Inizialmente gli inquisitori rimasero stupiti – siamo negli ultimi decenni del Cinquecento- e cercarono invano di farli confessare di essere streghe e stregoni. Solo dopo cinquant’anni i benandanti arrivarono ad ammettere – pur in maniera incompleta e con molte resistenze- che le battaglie notturne a cui partecipavano erano in realtà i sabba diabolici e loro erano stregoni.

Siamo qui di fronte ad un saggio storico famosissimo, che ha indagato per primo su un tema di ricerca mai studiato in precedenza. Lo storico si è mosso con la metodologia storica in un ambito che si interseca con l’antropologia culturale. E ha volutamente cercato di dare voce alle vittime, i cui racconti ci arrivano forti e diretti dopo circa cinquecento anni. Si tratta quindi di una lettura affascinante, resa interessante anche per i non addetti ai lavori grazie allo stile particolarmente chiaro e fresco di Ginzburg, ma che sarà particolarmente apprezzata dagli storici o dagli appassionati di storia.

“Quindi, incalzato dalle domande dello Sgabarizza, ha raccontato che «il giovedì de tutte le quattro tempore de anno erano sfrocciati a andar insieme con questi stregoni in più campagne, come a Cormons, avanti la chiesa di Iassico, et insino su la campagna di Verona», dove «combattevano, giocavano, saltavano, et cavalcavano diversi animali, et facevano diverse cose fra loro, et… le donne battevano con le cane di sorgo gl’homeni che erano con loro, et li quali non havevano in mano altro che mazze di finocchio.»”

[John Wiswell · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the 16th and 17th century a small group of people believed they left their bodies to fight in an astral war on behalf of God. Whether they were insane, mistaken or somehow right, the Church saw them as Satanists. This book is a terribly interesting examination of how the Church trampled individual spirituality and attempted to explain Pagan experiences with its own cosmology and morality. Carlo Ginzburg's research is distilled into very readable and accessible prose.

[Ayse · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ceren Sungur'un tarih anlatımını ve ilgilendiği konuları seviyorum. Sağlam kaynaklar göstererek konuşması, ara sıra -aslında 2 kuruş etmeyecek ama bazı kitlelerde hayranlık uyandıran- zirzoplara sallaması da cabası.
Çevirdiği bu kitabın tanıtımını ve mini bir özetini de yine bir videosunda gördüm ve ilgimi çektiği için okumaya başladım. Engizisyon mahkemesi kayıtlarına dayanan iyi cadılar (Benandanti, tekili Benandante) ve kötü cadıların dört mevsim orucunda yaşanan savaşlarını, daha farklı kültürlere dayanarak inceliyoruz. Öyle ki kimi zaman bu inceleme Marduk ve Tiamat'a bile ulaşıyor. Astral seyahatlere, tarımsal ayinlere, tarım ürünlerine dayanan batıl inançları kimi zaman ilgi çekici kimi zaman da sıkıcı bir anlatımla okuyoruz.

Kitapta en çok şaşırdığım şey Benandantelerin ifadesini alan, davasını gören Engizisyon Mahkemesinin bu insanları (çoğunlukla) zararsız görerek serbest bırakması. Gerçek anlamda ritüeller yapan, iyileştirici güçleri bulunduğuna inanan, İsa tarafından seçildiğine kendilerini ikna etmiş bu iyi cadılar, cadı avcısı bir kuruluş tarafından "Emaan bunlar da şuralarda takılsın işte, etliye sütlüye dokunmuyorlar" denerek serbest bırakılıyor. Üstelik Benandanti ritüellerinin çoğunu mahkemede kendi iradeleriyle açıklıyorlar. Ya da en azından mahkeme kayıtlarına bu şekilde geçiriliyor.

Daha sonrasında kurt adamlar da ortaya çıkıyor ve burada kurt adamların hiç yansıtılmayan bir yönünü görüyoruz. Kötü cadıların yeryüzündeki mahsülleri kurutup, cehenneme götürmesi sonucu aslında "Tanrı'nın Tazıları" olan adamlar kurda dönüşerek cehenneme inerler ve cadıların çaldığı mahsülleri tekrar yeryüzüne çıkarmak için savaş verirler.

Necromancerların da olaya dahil oluşuyla ortalık iyice civcivleniyor.

İnanılmaz güzel bir fantastik kitabın ögesi olabilecek bu olayları tamamen gerçek davalarla okuyoruz. Enter Sarcastically Surprised Kirk meme here. Var ulan böyle şeyler, cadılar, büyücüler... Denemesi bedava, "Cadı olmak isteyenler geceleri Şabat'a gider. Orada üç takla atarlar. Ama bundan önce kendilerini sundukları Şeytan'a seslenirler. Tanrı'yı üç kez reddederler ve sonra ellerine tükürürler. Ellerini birbirine üç kez sürttükten sonra Şeytan onların ruhlarını alıp götürür, geride kansız ve ölü beden kalır. Ta ki Şeytan ruhlarını bedenlerine döndürene kadar."

Son olarak sözlerimi bir alıntıyla bitirmek istiyorum. Ehem...
"Seni cadıya, büyücüye, belandante'ye ve melandante'ye karşı işaretliyorum ki kumaştaki iplikleri, dikenli çalıların iğnelerini ve denizlerin dalgalarını saymadan konuşamasın ve hareket edemesinler."

[Martin Keith · Rating 4 out of 5]

The fate of the benandanti was a strange one. Having been virtually ignored as benandanti, they became transformed into witches too late to be persecuted. (pg. 129)

My second historical work by Carlo Ginzburg this year. This one tracks the history of the benandanti, a popular Friulian movement of peasants who claimed to wage spiritual war against malevolent witches certain nights of the year. Despite their 'prehistoric' origins, their belief was framed within a distinctively Catholic worldview. Yet the Church halfheartedly accused them of witchcraft for decades—a claim firmly denied. But Ginzburg shows how the Church's influence caused popular culture and the benandanti themselves to increasingly conflate the benandanti with witches. Fortunately, by then the witch hunt fervour had died out in alpine Italy.

The Night Battles lacks the personal nature and literary engagement found in Ginzburg's later work. Though dealing with an obscure episode of history, this book isn't quite "microhistory". Its aims are less grand than The Cheese and the Worms though somehow also less mundane. But this book's multigenerational story of early modern pop culture is compelling in its own right.

[Francesco · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ginzburg ricerca e mette alla luce varie testimonianze di contadini (uomini, donne e bambini) del 1500-1600 circa la loro natura di essere "Benandanti" ovvero essere destinati con lo spirito a combattere le streghe in un campo di notte "ogni giovedì di tempora". Per suggestione e folklore sono talmente convinto che anche di fronte all'Inquisizione non arretrano di un passo.
Attraverso queste trascrizioni capiamo l'evoluzione di queste persone obbligate nel tempo, che poi si trasformeranno anche loro in streghe e stregoni.

[D. · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kitap, İtalya’nın Friuli bölgesinde yaşamış olan ve kendilerine benandanti diyen köylüleri inceliyor. Benandanti’ler, geceleri ruhlarının bedenlerinden ayrılarak kötü cadılarla savaştıklarını, tarlaların bereketini korumaya çalıştıklarını iddia eden insanlarmış. Başlangıçta bu inanç masum ve hatta “iyi” olarak görülürken, zamanla Engizisyon tarafından cadılık ve şeytanla işbirliği olarak damgalanmış. Ginzburg’un çalışması, sadece bir cadılık tarihi değil; aynı zamanda halk inançlarının, pagan kökenli ritüellerin ve dinî otoritenin bu tür inançları nasıl dönüştürdüğünün bir analizi.

[frogfairie · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars

Interesting read about a group I'd never heard of before who initially believed themselves to be doing deeds in "the service of Christ" but eventually, through decades of interrogation, began to see themselves as witches instead.

[Henrique Filho · Rating 4 out of 5]

surpreendente. ler sobre folclore no interior da Europa durante a Idade Média vai ser minha nova obsessão a partir de agora.

muito oportuno esse livro ter caído no meu colo agora, ter ouvido mitos parecidos ao longo da minha vida e agora tentar traçar a origem dele. encontrar novas formas de enxergar ao mundo, de lidar com ele, além da já dominante-cultural Igreja Católica.

o livro é bem denso, realmente um estudo muito aprofundado. excelente para mim que quer seguir lendo sobre, muitas referências e notas interessantes - mas pode ser cansativo para quem só quer uma leitura para entreter.

[Bayram Erdem · Rating 5 out of 5]

XVI. ve XVII. Yüzyıl İtalya'sında engizisyon mahkemelerinin baktığı cadı davalarının kayıtları var. Cadılık denen şeyin erkeklerdeki kadın nefretinin bir sonucu olduğunu anlıyorsunuz.

[Fred]

Translated by John C. Tedeschi and Anne Tedeschi

[Bryce]

folk religion seems like fun. i love historiography!

[Caterina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Benandanteler cadı mıydı, şeytanla bağları neydi ve ne için savaşıyorlardı?

Engizisyon kayıtlarına dayanarak hazırlanmış bu kitap okurunu sıkmayan içeriği ve akıcı diliyle cadılar ve gizem kültlerine dair kaliteli bir mikro tarih eseri.

[Steve Cran · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the area of Friuli Italy back during the medieval times there was a group of people properly known as the Banadante. There work was connected primarily to the agricultural farming seasons. There job was to protect the seeds and the harvest from the witches. Going to sleep at night lying on their backs there astral bodies would float thorough the air to meet the witches for battle. Armed with fennel sticks the Benadante were ready to defend , mean while the witches were armed with Sorghum sticks. Battle would ensue, no one really got killed but there were definite winners and losers. If the witches one it would be a year of famine if the Benadante won then it would be a bountiful year. Sometimes the Benadante ventured into Hell itself to rescue the seeds. Coming back from battle they would stop I houses and seek refreshment. If cool clear water was a available they slaked their thirst with it and if not then they would raid your basement drin the wine and then urinate in the barrels. Four times a year they would go out for battle, the ember days. Sometimes they went out every Thursday to do battle.

How does o0ne become a Benadnate, one is born with a caul over their head. They keep the caul and have a priest say mass over it or a blessing. Often times the caul is worn on the person in order for them to participate in the battle. One is usually summoned in their early 20’s and their service ends when they are forty or whenever they are inclined to leave the service. Usually they are summoned by an angel or the captain . The banner for the good guys is a golden flag and a lion. The bad witches had a black flag.The bendnantes sometimes knew who each other were and who the witches were at other times they didn’t. They were vowed to silence unless they get beaten or killed.

The Inquisition by the Catholic church which was started to route out heretics and witches took a lenient view toward the Benandante during the 1300’s . Often times they would question them and then let them go. As time progress they were associated more and more with witches and they could end up being imprisoned or tortured. They were often said to have gone to the witches sabbats and partaken in profane rites that blasphemed Christianity. A total change in attitude.

It seems connected with the Witches sabbat where in a goddess like Diana in Italy or Hulda or Perchta led a procession of fairies or souls of the dead. At their sabbats they would dance, sing, drink and eat among other things. The inquisition often made it worse then what it was. Like Margaret Murray had [postulated that therer was an ancient pagan religion of Europe that was goddess and agricultural based that prdated Christianity. These seemed to be connected.

Over all good book. The author does a great job explaining the concepts that even a layman would find it comprehensible and enjoyable. It is filled with case studies that document that change and progression of attitude by the church towards the Benadante. It get’s a bit over kill at the end with the appendices but then again this is a scholarly book.

[Kate · Rating 3 out of 5]

So, I'm no historian to start with; I read this out of curiosity.
The narrow subject matter deals with the agrarian cult in Fruili called the benandanti. They have been recorded in depositions by the Holy Office from around 1400s - 1600s. The book deals with the roots of this fertility cult and its folklore, to a time when it was moulded to fit Christian motifs and ideas.
I found it interesting and the chapters are bite size (though the paragraphs can be long). The book did not have a satisfying conclusion (it actually had no summing up at the end) but then maybe historians only seek to show, not dictate, what happened in history using the evidence available.
Either way, it is a fascinating snapshot (based on accounts at the time) into that society and region.

[Moloch · Rating 5 out of 5]

Come sempre, quando un saggio storico riporta le voci dei ceti subalterni, come nei verbali di un processo dell'Inquisizione, mi piace moltissimo. Qui si tratta di credenze popolari e culti agrari del Friuli.

As always, when a history book reports the voices of the people, such as verbal of inquiries of the Inquisition, I love it. This one is about popular myths in Friuli (Northern Italy).

[Mary Kate · Rating 4 out of 5]

My class tore this book to pieces but honestly, I kind of liked it. Do I feel that Ginzburg was a little bit willful with his evidence? Yes. In the words of Sherlock Holmes, he was twisting facts to suit theories instead of theories to suit facts. But do I think he is on to something? Also yes. This book is worth the read.

[Valorie Dalton · Rating 5 out of 5]

In The Night Battles, Carlo Ginzburg looks at a small group of northeastern Italian people from the area of Friuli who claimed to be 'benandanti.' The benandanti, according to their legend, were people born with "the caul," and battled witches to protect the harvest and people, and to heal people bewitched. A second strand of benandanti claimed to be witness to processions of the dead. Using a small set of inquisition documents to do his microhistory, Ginzburg claims that he can reconstruct the progression of benandanti identity from their perspective from those who battle witches to those who are witches. This new identity was imposed, according to Ginzburg, by the inquisitors who used leading questions and other devices such as fear to convince the accused benandanti into altering their confessions to fit the new model of witchcraft, which can be traced through the confession transcripts. The book contains four chapters and an appendix with a few of the transcripts included for reference. Chapter one introduces the benandanti, their beliefs, and the inquisitors; chapter two describes the benandanti who associate with the dead and traces possible links of origin; chapter three returns to the benandanti and the inquisitors, and to the evolution of the benandanti identity; and chapter four sees the conclusion of the benandanti fitting themselves into the accepted mold of witchcraft. There is no way Ginzburg can support, with his available evidence, what the true intentions of the benandanti were when they confessed to witchcraft practices. Was it that they became convinced of their own evil, or simply became indoctrinated out of fear and insistence to change stories to fit what they knew the inquisitors wanted regardless of what they knew to be truth? There is simply no way to know if the benandanti were only saying what they felt needed to be said, or if they actually accepted it as truth. Ginzburg does, unfortunately, make a lot of claims that cannot be substantiated. For example, he tells the story of a woman named Anna la Rossa who he admits never claimed to be a benandanti (35). Yet later on, Ginzburg refers to her as one of the benandanti (41 & 43) without ever proving that she was one. If anything, Ginzburg is merely reasserting that many different beliefs had origins in the same pagan traditions, or that ideas filtered through geographical space. In another case, Ginzburg claims that the trances during which benandanti left their bodies were ointment induced or caused by illness (59). Again, this is not something he can adequately support and therefore cannot state it as unquestionable. Regardless of this, Ginzburg's greatest achievements are two. First, he does a good job in his outlining of the various pagan traditional origins of witchcraft and other cults. Second, he has great success in showing how the inquisitorial process was able to impose beliefs with such effectiveness that people would admit to them even when they knew giving the answer that was desired would surely bring harm to them. It sheds light on the nature of the witch hunts and trials, and the confessions rendered.

[Peter · Rating 4 out of 5]

Carlo Ginzburg was something of a visionary, which can be both a strength and a liability for a historian. Ginzburg reliably shot well past of the attested historical record in his books. There’s little evidence for his overarching theses, presented here and in undergrad-historiography favorite “The Cheese and the Worms,” about early-modern popular thought. His major claim in “The Night Battles,” that major strains of early modern witchcraft are the continuation of ancient Central European paganism, has been torn apart by the vast majority of other practitioners in the field.

But Ginzburg remains a compelling figure nevertheless. He was the great pioneer of “microhistory,” taking the social history turn of the mid-twentieth century into the nitty-gritty of early modern Italian life and convincing the Vatican to release the records of the Inquisition. These records provided grist for Ginzburg’s mill; every oddball who thought he talked to God, or figured out that the universe was actually like a wormy cheese, or who did good magic to fight the evil magic of witches at night, wound up in front of the Inquisitors at some point, it seems. In this case he follows appearances of the “benandante,” roughly the “well-farers,” a group of men and women in and near Friuli, Italy, who claimed that they engaged in nocturnal battles with witches to guard their crops. These took the form of astral projection and fighting with various vegetables (shades of the second Super Mario!). The Inquisition was looking for Lutherans to root out, or at least straightforward diabolic witches- they didn’t know what to make of the benandante.

Similar beliefs turn up in Germany and Switzerland, or similar-ish. That’s the rub- how many incidents do there need to be before you see a trend? And if you see this trend, to what do you attribute it? Ginzburg takes a small number of cases of similar (but far from identical) claims made by a few Italians and Germans as evidence for the continuation of a Central European pagan tradition. Certainly, this stuff does sound like fertility ritual. But there’s not a ton of evidence that it was organized practice handed down the generations, certainly not centuries. It seems a lot simpler to think that these were visions or self-made rituals. But the paganism thesis is certainly evocative, enough that it’s made its way into pop-cultural understandings of European paganism. And how many of Ginzburg’s critics can claim to have had that kind of influence? ****

[Jena · Rating 4 out of 5]

Carlo Ginzburg hace un estudio sobre la mentalidad religiosa de una comunidad campesina en el norte de Italia, en Friuli especialmente, que se asimilaron a un grupo que practicaba la hechicería. El Santo Oficio Italiano nunca fue tan extremista como el español cuyo castigo siempre fue la hoguera. En Italia se llamaba al denunciado y mediante tortura se obtenían confesiones, pero los castigos eran benévolos, solo cárcel por algunos meses y penitencias- En algunos casos ni siquiera se abría expediente y se olvidaba.
Los Benandanti, a determinada edad, eran llamados para salir por la noche y asistir al Sabath, unos decían ir en persona, pero la mayoría se cubría con ungüento que lo hacía dormir profundamente y asistían en espíritu. Ahí decían pelear con las brujas y brujos, porque eran buenos, pero más bien se integraban a los bailes, al banquete y a la adoración de Satanás.
Estas personas se dedicaban a curar enfermedades, pero si fallaban eran denunciados, bien por el engaño o por cobrar mucho dinero por sus servicios.
El autor transcribe muchos interrogatorios hechos por el fiscal del Santo Oficio, en donde cada uno refuta practicar la hechicería, diciendo que en realidad combatían a los y las brujas que chupaban la sangre a los niños o se los comían.
Estas ideas sobre la brujería también las encontramos en México y también los curanderos se dicen buenos, que practican magia blanca y curan los posibles encantamientos. Para encontrarlos hay que ir a Catemaco, Veracruz.

[Justin Barger · Rating 4 out of 5]

A pretty decent microhistory of a group of people in the Friulian region of northern Italy in the 16th century, known at birth by their marking (known as a 'caul') to assist in fighting witches to bring about good harvests, only to be virtually condemned with those the fought against by the end of the 17th century. Many of them either went to march with the deceased and battle the witches either through dreams or sleep paralysis (accusations of these people being victims of epilepsy is noted by the author) or in real life, often said to have ridden on animals armed with stocks of fennel against the witches with stocks of sorgum. The winner would determine the harvest season. Because of their peculiar beliefs (Ginzburg notes they were considered a "subaltern" class, a term borrowed from Antonio Gramsci) the Inquisition became involved and began to persecute them. Because the inquisition had to deal with wildly divergent confessions (similar to how there tends to be a misunderstanding between elite populations and indigenous groups) they came to the conclusion that these people, known as the "benandanti", were in reality no better or different than the witches they claimed to be against and in some cases, were subservient to them. But by the end of the 17th century, the world was changing and the elites were no longer interested in persecution.