Over a hundred thousand people across Europe were put on trial for witchcraft in the 1500s and 1600s. But every trial was different, because each corner of Europe had its own witch beliefs. One of the most interesting comes from a rural corner of Italy, tucked into the Alps on the border with the Holy Roman Emperor: Friuli’s Benandanti.
When you picture a witch, you might see a green lady with warts and a pointy black hat. Broom, black cat, BOOM: it’s a witch. But the Benandanti are completely different from that stereotype. In fact, they claimed to be good witches.
Well . . . you're on the right track, but not quite.
Benandanti literally means “those who go well,” or “good walkers.” The Benandanti claimed that they healed the victims of witches, hunting down evil witches and countering their magical attacks. In particular, the Benandanti specialized in protecting the community’s crops from magical attacks.
But the Benandanti also flew through the air on cats and attended nocturnal meetings with other good witches. One Benandanti testified to the Inquisition that “he roamed about at night with witches and goblins.” The good witches would travel to a field in their dreams and fight against evil witches using weapons made of grain. Good witches used fennel. Bad witches used sorghum.
Ever wonder about witches and brooms? Well, this is a broom made out of sorghum, which is sometimes called "broom corn."
These were local witch beliefs in Friuli. The folklore about Benandanti was rich: Benandanti were chosen from birth, identified by the caul, a piece of the amniotic sac that sometimes stuck to the head at birth. Across Europe, being born with the caul was a sign of good luck, an omen that the child would do great things. Mothers often saved the caul, and in Friuli, it was sometimes baptized. Legend claimed that if you had a caul, you could not die from drowning, so there was a lively market in cauls in port towns.
Who wouldn't want this stylish chapeau?
The caul had magical powers, and in Friuli, if you were born with a caul you had special powers: you would become a good witch, destined to fight against evil and protect your village.
The Benandanti maintained balance in their agrarian community by protecting the people and the fields. Their evil nemeses, the Malandanti, specialized in stealing wine by sneaking into cellars and drinking out of casks using long straws. They sent hailstorms to crush the crops, and threw evil spells at the babies of Friuli. And sometimes they peed in the wine.
This balance may have existed in Friuli for centuries. But when Inquisitors first heard these tales in the 1570s, they didn’t understand the local witch beliefs. The Benandanti sounded a lot like evil witches: flying, nighttime meeting, and magic. One priest was baffled: “This all seemed very strange to me.”
"Hmm, yeah, something's not quite right here . . ."
The Inquisitors were outsiders, and they read Friuli’s traditions through their own lenses. To them, Benandanti were misguided, confused, and in need of spiritual guidance. The Benandanti weren’t necessarily evil, but they were clearly wrong. Between 1575 and the 1650s, Inquisitors attempted to correct local Friulian beliefs. They didn’t kill any of the Benandanti, but several were found guilty of heresy or imprisoned until they recanted.
Friuli’s Benandanti remind us that witch beliefs came in lots of shapes and sizes. In Friuli, good witches slapped bad witches on the head with fennel to stop them from urinating in the wine. It’s a long way from the Hollywood version of witches.
For a lot more about the Benandanti, see Carlo Ginzberg's book Night Battles. And for a fun take on witches, check out my novel Salem Mean Girls.