In One Odd Tale, King Pippin III Of The Franks Fought A Demon While He Was In A Bath

In the mid 880s, a monk of St. Gall known as Notker the Stammerer wrote an unfinished text called The Deeds of Charlemagne. Most of the first book of the text consisted of an odd collection of tales concerning Charlemagne and the bishops in his lands. The second book of the text transitioned more into Charlemagne’s foreign policy and often digressed into other stories about the great king’s predecessors and successors. Although Notker the Stammerer was writing a biography, his writing style can be frustrating to people seeking historical information on the life of Charlemagne. Notker often neglected to mention names, locations and dates, making many of the tales collected in his text virtually impossibly to validate. In addition to this, many of Notker’s stories were fantastical in nature, featuring monsters, demons and overt, flashy divine interventions, making them unpalatable to most modern historical narratives. Nevertheless, the odd tales of Notker the Stammerer can give a glimpse into the mind of a 9th-century monk and have value, even if only for the sake of entertainment.

In one of the digressions away from the main subject of his text, Notker the Stammerer began commenting on Pippin III (r. 751-768), the first Carolingian king of the Franks and the father of Charlemagne. After briefly recounting how Pippin attacked the Lombards on the behest of the Pope, Notker transitioned into telling a few select stories about the king.

One of the tales was about a supernatural battle between Pippin and a demonic creature. The alleged event took place at an unknown date when King Pippin was readying himself for a bath in a natural hot spring located in the city of Aachen. The king sent his chamberlain and guards to assure that the water was clean and, when the purity of the water was confirmed, the king had the troops set up a perimeter around the hot spring to keep anyone from disturbing his bath.

Eager to enter the hot waters, Pippin began stripping off layers of clothing. He had taken off everything except a linen gown and slippers when something caught his eye. It was a humanoid shape, a dark mass that resided somewhere between the corporeal and spirit realms.

The demonic creature, or “the old enemy” as Notker called it, suddenly attacked Pippin. Using the sign of the cross, Pippin was said to have been able to stun the demon, buying himself enough time to draw his sword. Pippin then stabbed at the dark entity, driving his sword through the shadowy mass, not stopping until his blade was lodged deep in the ground. The wound seemingly killed or banished the creature, causing it to dissolve into a pool of blood and slime that polluted the hot spring. In an odd end to the tale, Notker the Stammerer wrote that King Pippin III merely waited for the current of the spring to carry away the dark grime and, when the water was once again clean, he nonchalantly took his bath.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (cropped and modified Pippin III painted by Louis-Félix Amiel  (1802–1864), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Source:

• Two Lives of Charlemagne, by Einhard and Notker the Stammer, translated by David Ganz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.

The Renaissance Genius Michelangelo Sculpted This Unusual Moses. Did You Notice Moses Has Horns?

The aging warrior Pope, Julius II (1443-1513), was nearing the end of his life and realized he needed a tomb prepared for a pontiff of his stature. Wanting only the best for his final resting place, Julius II contracted the master artist, Michelangelo, to outfit his envisioned crypt with no less than forty marble statues. Michelangelo accepted the contract, put away his paintbrushes in favor of a hammer and chisel and began his work on the first statue, The Moses. Unfortunately for Michelangelo, at some point during the production of The Moses, the Papacy informed him that the other thirty-nine statues were no longer affordable. The Moses, which originally was supposed to be elevated as a centerpiece among other statues, had to be reworked to be viewed at close proximity. Michelangelo had already made the body of Moses longer, and the anatomical details deeper, meant to be viewed from a distance. Yet, despite the setbacks, Michelangelo was able to finish The Moses anywhere from 1513 to 1515. Even today, the statue still astounds viewers with its grasp and portrayal of emotion. It is housed in San Pietro in Vicoli, a church in Rome.

Michelangelo’s The Moses, however, tells a stranger story. This peculiar tale begins around 405, when Saint Jerome finished his Latin translation of the Bible, called the Vulgate. While the translation was a great achievement that remained the church’s translation of choice for centuries, it had some flaws. In particular, the problem that Michelangelo later sculpted was Jerome’s mistake in translating the Hebrew word, “Keren.” The word could mean either “radiated light” or “grew horns.” Unfortunately, Jerome chose the second option, and worse, he used the phrase to describe Moses, stating that Moses had horns on his head.

More than a thousand years later, Michelangelo used this description of Moses as a reference in making The Moses. That is why, to this day, The Moses features two small horns poking through the curls of marble hair.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

This article was originally published on May 9, 2016, but has been edited since that date.

Sources:

• https://www.rome.info/michelangelo/moses/
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Michelangelo
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/Vulgate
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Jerome

The Devil Has A Liking For Feathered Hats

Many people have a preconceived notion of the devil as a red beast with horns, or a hairy creature with a goat's head. Some may even believe the devil looks like Voldemort from Harry Potter. While these are all fitting description of the prince of darkness, no description of the devil is as stylish and hip as the devil sighted in Baroque Germany. These depictions of the devil wearing the finest clothes and sporting the sharpest hats were prevalent in the late 16th century and early 17th century.
   
The devil's appearance gained him the name “Federle” or “Federlin,” meaning “little feather,” as the lord of the fallen always wore a hat adorned with a feather. The following descriptions of the devil come from interrogations of accused witches documented in Lyndal Roper's book, Witch Craze. The devil was a smooth talker, promising marriage and loyalty to the women he targeted, then demanding diabolical obedience after they were seduced. Common motifs in the accounts of the devil from this period included impersonation of love interests, the appearance of goat's feet (after the devil revealed himself), having a cold 'member,' and last but not least, flatulence. Yet, the devil's choice of clothing was the most consistent recurrence among the accounts.
   
If clothing makes the man, the devil was a man of substance. In 1586, Ursula Bayer told of her encounter with the devil wearing “black clothes, with a black satin hat, black feather on it….” Barbara Weis confessed in 1590 that the devil “came in the form of a craftsman, dressed in black clothes, a feather on his hat, and with a cloven foot.” The 1602 account from Barbara Herpolt claims the devil looked “like a servant man, a red face and a red beret, smooth trousers and stockings, a hat with black and white feathers….” In 1617, the devil added more color to his clothing. Margaret Schreyer, in her 1617 testimony, claimed that the devil appeared to her “in red clothes and a black hat.” The Würzburg trials added green to the devil's wardrobe. The devil was described as “a beautiful young man with a black beard, red clothing, green stockings and black hat, with a red feather upon it.” Barbara Schluchter also claimed to have seen the devil in 1617, “he had a green tunic, a high hat and a feather.” Even men had to be wary of women in feathered hats. Conrad Schreyer, an accused male witch from Marchtal, claimed to have been seduced by the devil in the form of a black-clad woman wearing a hat with feathers. In total, the accounts from Lyndal Roper's Witch Craze that were perused for this article contained five instances of the devil wearing black clothing, four instances of a black hat, two depictions of green clothing, two accounts of red clothing, and a unique occurrence of a red hat. The feather was always present, though its color and quantity varied.
   
So, next time you encounter a devilishly good-looking person wearing fine tailored clothing and a hat with a feather, beware, it may be the devil. The colors black, red and green are to be especially suspected.  Beware the Lucifer in Ralph Lauren and the dark prince in Prada.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

This article was originally published on April 7, 2016, but has been edited since that date.

Picture Attribution: ("The Devil as the Witch's Lover," woodcut c. 1490, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Source:

• Lyndal Roper. Witch Craze: Terror and Fantasy in Baroque Germany. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004.

In the Reign of Nero, Romans Rioted In An Attempt To Save The Lives Of Condemned Slaves

Between his descriptions of wars and imperial intrigues, the Roman historian, Tacitus (c. 56-117+), enjoyed filling his pages with various crimes that occurred within the Roman Empire. He stated several reasons why he recorded the crimes. For one, the accounts reinforced his idea that Rome had become corrupt and morally degraded in the time period in which he was writing about. On the other hand, he believed that seemingly trivial and insignificant events, such as criminal trials, could influence the direction of history, as a whole, and therefore were worth examining. It must also not be forgotten that Tacitus was one of the most accomplished orators of his day, so he must have known that the scandal and drama of great crime stories would be of great entertainment value to his readers.

While writing about events in the last decade of Emperor Nero’s life, Tacitus took some time to write about an interesting crime that involved murder and slavery. The event in question took place in Rome around the year 61 or 62, not long after Boudicca led her destructive, but ultimately unsuccessful, rebellion in Britain. The incident that occurred that year would ultimately rile up the masses and force Emperor Nero to take a side in a debate between law and morality.

According to Tacitus, a City Prefect named Lucius Pedanius Secundus owned a large household of slaves. This Pedanius, as Tacitus referred to him, somehow inspired the bitterest kind of hate in one of his many slaves. The historian mentioned two theories as to how this occurred. In the first account, Pedanius refused to let one of his slaves buy freedom, even though he had promised to release the slave for a predetermined price, which the slave had obtained. In the alternate version, Pedanius and the unnamed slave were both competing for the very same person’s affection and the slave was infuriated because he was losing the competition of courtship. Whatever the cause of the animosity, the slave eventually murdered Lucius Pedanius Secundus.

According to Roman law, not only the murderer, but also every single slave in Pedanius’ large household, would be held responsible for the crime. Therefore, all of Pedanius’ slaves (young and old, men and women) were condemned to execution. This verdict, sentencing to death many innocents, caused rioting to break out in the streets of Rome. The angry citizens were said to have had enough strength to besiege the senate-house, itself. Faced with the angry mob, the senators quickly began to debate whether the slaves should be shown mercy or if the ancient custom of execution should be upheld. When the senators ultimately decided in favor of upholding the executions, the rioters picked up stones or any other available weapons and put themselves between the slaves and the authorities.

With an armed conflict seemingly imminent in the streets, Emperor Nero sent out his troops to clear the roadways and to ensure that the executions were carried out. Caught up in the bloodlust, some of the more extreme senators also proposed that freed former slaves of Pedanius should also be expelled from Italy. Nero, however, rejected this second proposal.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Sources:

• The Annals of Imperial Rome (Chapter 10) by Tacitus, translated by Michael Grant. New York: Penguin Classics, 1996.

The Bizarre Tale Of A Goblin That Gave Away Free Drinks In The Reign Of Charlemagne

In the 9th century, two major biographies were written about the reign of Charlemagne, who became king in 768 and died in 814. Einhard, an intellectual from Charlemagne’s court, wrote the earliest biography about the great king, completing it sometime during the 820s. For the time in which it was written, Einhard’s text was remarkably secular, focusing on the actions and demeanor of Charlemagne rather than the state of Christendom in Charlemagne’s empire.

Several decades later, in the 880s, a monk named Notker the Stammerer decided to publish his own commentary about the great king’s reign and strove to give the church a more significant position in his account of Charlemagne’s life. In fact, nearly the entire first book of Notker’s Deeds of Charlemagne consisted of compiled odd tales that occurred between the great king and his local bishops. These bizarre stories, told to Notker by a certain cleric named Werinbert, were unfortunately often left devoid of names and dates, so it is difficult to assign any historical validity to Notker’s first book. Nevertheless, the strange tales are immensely entertaining and can give a window of insight into what some 9th-century people believed.

One of Notker’s many stories took place somewhere in France that was suffering from a drought. In that region, there was a greedy bishop (name left anonymous) who used the opportunity to make money. The bishop opened up his warehouse to provide provisions for the hungry and thirsty, but charged unfair prices for his products. The greed of the bishop and the desperation of the townspeople apparently caught the attention of a supernatural being. According to Notker, a goblin or a mischievous demon entered the area to tempt the bishop’s neglected flock.

The goblin made its rounds through the town, breaking into homes and workshops to play with peoples’ belongings. In particular, the creature apparently had a fondness for the shops of the town’s blacksmiths, where it could spend the nights noisily drumming upon the anvils with hammers. As sightings of the goblin became more numerous, word spread around town that the creature could be banished by simply making the sign of the cross. One day, a certain haunted homeowner decided to try this method to banish the goblin from his home, but, before the sign could be completed, the creature made an interesting counteroffer. The goblin promised that, if he was allowed to stay, he would fill whatever container was left to him (no matter the size) with an alcoholic beverage on a nightly basis. The offer was especially tempting because of the drought that was plaguing the town. Therefore, the homeowner agreed to the proposal and handed over to the goblin the largest tankard or flask that he possessed.

As the goblin had promised, each morning the tankard was filled with wine. For several days this went on—while the rest of the town paid outrages prices to the bishop for supplies, the unnamed homeowner received free wine from the goblin. Nevertheless, all good things must end. After an unknown amount of time, the tankard disappeared and the goblin was nowhere to be seen. That same day, the bishop announced that he had caught a demon in his wine cellar. According to Notker, the bishop had discovered that a barrel of wine from his cellar had been cracked open and spilled on the floor each night. After the thefts kept occurring, the bishop eventually suspected that a foul spirit was the culprit. With this in mind, the bishop made a trap by sprinkling holy water on the floor of the wine cellar. In the end, the unsuspecting goblin somehow found himself trapped in the bishop’s cellar and was apprehended by the local authorities the next morning.

According to Notker, the so-called goblin or demon looked fairly human when it was caught, albeit a bit hairy. Interestingly enough, the supernatural being was apparently flogged for its crime of thievery. In a wholesome scene at the end of the story, when the goblin was being led away for punishment, he expressed sadness and remorse for losing the tankard that was left to him by the homeowner, whom the goblin considered to be a friend.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Scene from the legend of St Benedict, painted by Spinello Aretino (1350–1410), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Two Lives of Charlemagne, by Einhard and Notker the Stammer, translated by David Ganz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.

Torture Makes The Witch—The Story of Margaretha Minderlin

When your country is in the midst of a hysteric witch-hunt, most people would have the sense not to act overtly suspicious. Unfortunately, acting without thought often brings about dire consequences.  In the late 16th century, Margaret Minderlin and her husband made poor choices, and the result was lethal.

           

Margaretha’s tragic story began in Nordlingen, Germany, in the year 1598. The suspicious eye of society focused on the Minderlin household when Margaretha’s husband was imprisoned for grave robbing. Her husband committed suicide while imprisoned, and the newly-widowed Margaretha fled her home. Her attempt to escape the authorities was unsuccessful. She was hauled back to Nordlingen, where she was handed over to eager jailers and interrogators.

           

Once Margaretha was put under the charge of the interrogators, her unfortunate fate was sealed. She willingly confessed that she assisted her husband in a scheme where they plundered graves for the purpose of gathering clothing and linens to sell for a profit. The torturers, however, suspected she was a witch, and applied their trade on her to make her confess their suspicions. To stop the agony, Margaretha conformed to the preconceived notion of witchy behavior and ultimately concurred with the interrogator’s questions. The more torture Margaretha underwent, the more her testimony became fantastical and diabolical. The interrogators, through torture, molded a confessed grave robber into the perfect image of an evil witch.

           

Margaretha’s statements escalated quickly. She originally confessed, without coercion, to stealing garments and cloth from graves with an intent to sell them for profit. At the first application of torture, Margaretha falsely admitted to selling body parts of the cadavers, instead of clothing. After more torture, she abandoned the original grave-robbing story to confess to exhuming the bodies of dead children. When she faced her seventh torture session, Margaretha falsely confessed to feasting on the flesh of the dead children, in the company of previously executed witches.

           

By this point in her interrogation, Margaretha seemed to be willing to confess to just about anything. She confessed to being seduced by the devil. She claims to have attended another feast with witches, where they cannibalized another child. Finally, she admitted to cursing and harming, through magical means, people of all ages, sexes and sizes.

           

The interrogation of Margaretha turned a grave robber into a cannibalistic witch. She was the last witch to be executed in Nordlingen, and her account acts as a testament for all of the other women who were executed in her town before her. She even referred to other executed witches in her confessions. The interrogators had a clear image in their own minds of how a witch behaved, and they coerced their defendant to confess to behaving in a manner that mirrored earlier executed witches. The investigating council acted sensibly when it investigated three graves of children Margaretha claimed to have disturbed, but even when the bodies were found to be unmolested, they did not relent in their insistence that witchcraft was afoot. The investigators wanted a witch, and they used torture to create one out of Margaretha Minderlin.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

This article was originally published on March 28, 2016, but has been reformatted and edited since then.

Picture Attribution: (Image of witchcraft, painted by (c. 1565-1629), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Lyndal Roper. Witch Craze: Terror and Fantasy in Baroque Germany. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004.

Abul Abaz, The War Elephant Of Charlemagne

Around the turn of the 9th century, after Charlemagne (r. 768-814) had spread his influence over much of Europe, the great king of the Franks realized there was a certain thing that he wanted but had not yet obtained—an elephant. Fortunately for Charlemagne, he had become pen pals with just the person who had the means and knowledge of how to acquire such a beast. The king of the Franks had begun corresponding with Harun-al-Rashid (r.786-809), the Caliph of Baghdad, as early as the year 797. So, after the two rulers had become acquainted, Harun-al-Rashid received an interesting message: Charlemagne wanted an elephant.

The Caliph of Baghdad reportedly decided to fulfill Charlemagne’s wish and shipped an Indian or African war elephant across the Mediterranean to the Carolingian Empire, which would later be renamed as the Holy Roman Empire. The elephant, allegedly named Abul Abaz, landed in Italy and was led through the Alps before meeting Charlemagne at Aachen in July, 802. The king apparently decided to let the animal keep its foreign name and integrated the elephant into the military. There is no knowing how much combat Abul Abaz saw, but the elephant would have been present in Europe to witness the end of Charlemagne’s long war with the Saxons (c. 772-804) and participated in the Frankish defense against raids from Denmark. In fact, Abul Abaz died in 810, near the Rhine settlement of Lippeham, where Charlemagne had stationed troops to defend against invasions from the Danes.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Depiction of a military elephant, by Sebastian Münster (1488–1552), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Two Lives of Charlemagne, by Einhard and Notker the Stammer, translated by David Ganz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.
• https://books.google.com/books?id=WGgYDAAAQBAJ&lpg=PA189&ots=W31caJ489R&dq=Abu%20Abaz&pg=PA60#v=onepage&q=Abul%20Abaz&f=false