In the year 1474, the may-bug committed great depredations in the

neighborhood of Berne. When the authorities of the city had sought relief

from the bishop of Lausanne, Benoit de Montferrand, against this scourge,

he determined to issue a letter of excommunication, which was solemnly

read by a priest in the churchyard of Berne. "Thou irrational, imperfect

creature, thou may-bug," thus the letter commenced, "thou whose kind was

never enclosed in Noah's ark! in the name of my gracious lord, the bishop

of Lausanne, by the power of the glorified Trinity through the merits of

Jesus Christ, and by the obedience you owe the Holy Church, I command you

may-bugs, all in common and each one in particular, to depart from all

places where nourishment for men and cattle germinates and grows." The

letter ends with a summons to the insects, to present themselves on the

sixth day thereafter, if they do not disappear before that time, at one

o'clock, P. M., at Wivelsburg, and assume the responsibility before the

court of the gracious lord of Lausanne. This letter was likewise read from

the pulpit while the congregation, kneeling, repeated "three Paternosters

and three Ave Marias." Arrangements were made beforehand for a legal trial

with strict attention to all professional forms. Among these was of course

that the accused should have a lawyer. But when no advocate in Berne would

consent to appear in behalf of the insects, the bishop devised the plan of

summoning from hell the shade of an infamous lawyer named Perrodet, who

had died a few years previously, and of directing him to plead the cause

of the may-bugs with the same diligence he had so often displayed in his

lifetime in defence of vile clients. But in spite of many summons, neither

Perrodet nor his clients deigned to appear. After the expiration of the

time fixed for beginning the defence, and when certain doubts concerning

the proper form of procedure had been removed, the episcopal tribunal

finally gave its verdict, which was excommunication in the name of the

Holy Trinity, "to you, accursed vermin, that are called may-bugs, and

which can not even be counted among the animals." The government ordered

the authorities of the afflicted district to report concerning the good

effects of the excommunication; "But," a chronicle of the time complains,

"no effect was observed, because of our sins."

Since any neglect of legal forms was thought to deprive a judgment of its

magical as well as legal power, the most scrupulous care was exercised in

the conduct of these frequently recurring processes against may-bugs,

grasshoppers, cabbage-worms, field-rats and other noxious vermin. There is

yet extant a detailed and luminous document by the learned Bartholomeus

Chassanaeus (born 1480), in which the question if, and how, such pests

should be proceeded against in the courts is carefully considered: whether

they should appear personally or by deputy; whether they are subject to a

spiritual or a secular tribunal, and if the penalty of excommunication can

be applied to them. He proves on many grounds that the jurisdiction to

which they are accountable is the spiritual, and that they may properly be

excommunicated. Still the question of jurisdiction remained unsettled, and

a civil prosecution of the field-rats in Tyrol, 1519-20, proves among

other things that a secular tribunal sometimes considered itself justified

in deciding such suits. The peasant Simon Fliss appeared before William of

Hasslingen, judge in Glurns and Mals (Ober-In-valley), as plaintiff

against the field-rats which were committing great depredations in his

parish. The court then appointed Hans Grinebner, a citizen of Glurns, to

be the advocate of the accused, and furnished him, before witnesses, with

the requisite commission. Thereupon the plaintiff chose as his advocate

Schwarz Minig, and obtained from the tribunal upon demand a warrant of

authority for him likewise. On the day of trial, the Wednesday after St.

Philip's and St. James's day, many witnesses were examined, establishing

that the rats had caused great destruction. Schwarz Minig then made his

final plea that the noxious animals should be charged to withdraw from

mischief, as otherwise the people of Stilf could not pay the annual tithes

to their high patron. Grinebner, counsel for the defence, could not and

would not make exception to the testimony, but tried to convince the court

that his clients "enjoyed a certain right of usufruct which could hardly

be denied them." If the court were of another opinion and considered it

best to eject them, he yet hoped they would first be granted another

place where they could support themselves. Besides there should be given

them at their departure a sufficient escort to protect them against their

enemies, whether cat, dog, or other adversaries; and he also hoped that,

if any of the rats were pregnant, time might be allowed them to be

delivered and afterwards depart in safety with their progeny. The decision

was rendered in the following terms: "After accusation and defence, after

statement and contradiction, and after due consideration of all that

pertains to justice, it is by this sentence determined that those noxious

animals which are called field-rats must, within two weeks after the

promulgation of this judgment, depart and forever remain far aloof from

the fields and the meadows of Stilf. But if one or several of the animals

are pregnant, or unable on account of their youth to follow, then shall

they enjoy during further two weeks safety and protection from every body,

and after these two weeks depart."

We can form some impression of the immense power of prayer and exorcism

when we consider that the influence of the will and the idea expressed in

the word co-operate in them with the power of the word itself as a mere

form. For the material word, the sound caught by the ear, the formula, as

such, exercises a magical effect without one's knowing its meaning. The

mass of the people with their ignorance of the official language of the

Church and of learning, would be badly off if those "Paternosters" and

"Ave Marias," committed to memory without understanding them, should be

spiritually ineffectual,--if the Latin mass to which the congregation

listens should be wanting in edifying and sanctifying power because it is

not comprehended. The formularies of the Church established at different

times and for various purposes are for this reason of high importance and

must be followed conscientiously.[24] A single proof of their

extraordinary power may be instanced here. In the year 1532 the devil

brought into the heavens a huge comet, which threatened earth and man

with drought and pestilence; but the pope solemnly banished the forbidding

omen,--and behold! in a short time it disappeared, having day by day

diminished through the power of the papal anathema. What a holy word may

avail by virtue of its sound (_flatus vocis_) alone, is indicated in the

legend of the tame starling, which was saved from the claws of the hawk

just at the moment its death-agony had forced from it the words it had

learned to repeat "Ave Maria."

Upon the power of the word as its foundation, rests the papal custom of

consecrating bread, wine, oil, salt, tapers, water, bells, fields,

meadows, houses, standards and weapons. "With such abuses, such

superstition, and diabolical arts was the priesthood filled during papal

ascendency"--thus complains an old Protestant theologian who had an eye to

that surplus of magic which the Catholic Church possessed over and above

that of the Lutheran, but who was blind to the common welfare--"and

therefore such things are in vogue even among common men. What was the

chief thing in the mass if not the wonder-working words of blessing, when

the priest pronounced the four words or the six syllables '_Hoc est corpus

meum_' (this is my body) over the bread, breathed upon it, and made the

sign of the cross three times over it, pretending that the bread was

thereby converted into the flesh of Christ? In the same way he transformed

the wine in the chalice into the blood of Christ, though no such power is

given to syllables and words. He bound the Holy Ghost in the water, the

salt, the oil, the tapers, the spices, the stone, wood or earth, when he

consecrated churches, altars, churchyards, when he blessed the meat, the

eggs, and the like, and when on Easter Eve he consecrated the fire that it

should do no damage (though I, God save me, have found out that our

village was utterly consumed four days after such consecration), when he

baptized and sanctified bells that their ringing might dispel evil

influences, quiet tempests, and the like."

The organization of monasteries is to be regarded as the defensive system

of the Church, guarding and protecting the territory it has conquered from

the devil. As the Mongolian on his irruption into Europe found innumerable

steeps crowned with strongly fortified castles, the very number of which

deterred from any attempt at siege, so Satan and his hosts find the

Christian world strewn with spiritual strongholds, each of which encloses

an arsenal filled with mighty weapons for offensive as well as defensive

warfare. Every monastery has its master magician, who sells _agni Dei_,

conception-billets, magic incense, salt and tapers which have been

consecrated on Candlemas Day, palms consecrated on Palm Sunday, flowers

besprinkled with holy water on Ascension Day, and many other appliances

belonging to the great magical apparatus of the Church.

This consecrated enginery being so various and complete, it might have

been expected that the people would be content, and seek no further

expedients than these constantly at hand. But, alas! a people's magic of

infernal origin is abroad, and rampant by the side of the holy magic of

the Church; and by it Satan tempts the careless, the curious and the

irresolute. Even many priests are tainted with it. The holy Boniface, and

many popes and monkish chroniclers after him, bitterly lament that the

lower clergy compound love-potions and practice divinatory arts, using

even the holy appurtenances of the Church, as the host, to fortify the

efficacy of their diabolical charms.

Since the Church tries to reduce all conditions of life to harmony with

itself, it naturally follows that it sets its seal also to human

jurisprudence. The ordeals which it has found employed by some of the

nations it has converted, exactly suit its system. It receives them,

consequently, as resting on a right idea,[25] makes them what they were

not before, a common practice, and gives detailed rules concerning the

chants, prayers, conjurations and masses with which they should be

accompanied. When a person under accusation or suspicion is to undergo the

ordeal by water, for example, the priest is to lead him to the church, and

cause him kneeling to pronounce three formulas in which God is implored

for protection. Then follow mass and the holy communion. When the accused

receives the wafer the priest says: "Be this flesh of our Lord thy test

to-day." Then in solemn procession the throng of witnesses repair to the

spot where the test is to take place. The priest conjures the water,

expelling the demons common to this element, and commands it to be an

obedient instrument of God for revealing innocence or crime. The accused

is dressed in clean garments, kisses the cross and the gospel, recites a

Paternoster and makes the sign of the cross. Then (in the ordeal by hot

water) his hand is held in a boiling cauldron: or he is thrown with his

hands pinioned and a rope about his waist, into a river. If he does not

then sink, his guilt is proved. The ordeal by fire consists in walking

over glowing coals, or carrying red-hot iron, or in being dragged through

flames clad in a shirt saturated with wax. By the test of fire the

genuineness of relics is also sometimes tested. When in A. D. 1010 some

monks who had returned from Jerusalem exhibited the towel with which the

disciples had wiped the feet of Christ, some doubts of its genuine

character were raised, but were all removed by this test. One of the most

common of all ordeals is the duel.

God, invoked by the servants of the Church, keeps his protecting hand over

innocence. Every doubt of this truth argues faint-heartedness bordering on

atheism. This thought lies at the foundation not only of the different

kinds of ordeals, but also of the torture, which, constantly extended and

intensified under the auspices of the Church, was a form of trial sparing

the judge much labor, and leading to the goal more surely than the

collation of testimony, which, besides being irksome, hardly ever brings

full assurance. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego felt no pain in the fiery

furnace. God gives to innocence upon the rack, if not insensibility to

pain, at least strength to endure it. But even the arch-fiend, to a

certain extent, can protect his subjects. In the case of heretics and

witches it is therefore needful to resort to the intensest torture; to

exhaust, so to speak, to the last drop, the springs of pain in human

nerves, under the hand of skilled tormentors. If then the instruments of

torture are previously conjured and sanctified by the priest, and if he

stands at the side of the accused ready to interrupt with constant

question the diabolic formulas of alleviation which undoubtedly the

sufferer murmurs inwardly, then a candid and reliable confession may

reasonably be expected, in spite of all efforts to the contrary by the

devil. In the "Witch-hammer" (Malleus Malificarum) the ecclesiastical and

magical plan of justice celebrates its triumph. This work, bearing the

sanction of the pope, contains full directions for the judge presiding in

witch-trials. It is, in fact, a hammer which crushes whatever it falls

upon. The judge who carefully follows these directions may be confident

that Satan himself can not save any one who is under accusation; only God

and his holy angels can rescue him, by direct miracle, from death in the

flames.[26]

He who finds a judicial system which appeals constantly to the

intercession of God of questionable value, may consider that the history

of the Church, the experiences of its saints and servants are a succession

of divine miracles. God is not chary of his miracles when recognized, and

the servants of the Church are in possession of the apostolic power and

mandate to perform them.

Another question is, how are the divine miracles to be distinguished from

the infernal? All attempts of the acutest scholastics to establish a rule

of definite separation for these two kinds of miracles have failed. They

are revealed under identical forms, and even the moral perceptions can

detect no difference, since Satan is able to transform himself into an

angel of light. Reason must also acknowledge its incapacity even in this

respect, and rely on the Holy Ghost ever active in the Church and

especially in its head. The power of divine truth and inspiration which

was poured out upon the apostles on the day of Pentecost, has been

transmitted like a magnetic stream from Peter, the first bishop of Rome,

to his successors by the laying on of hands, and is in a certain measure

imparted, by the sacrament of ordination, to every member of the clerical

hierarchy.

* * * * *

The survey of the magic of the Church which has been presented above,

ought perhaps to be completed, not by pursuing the tedious path which lies

before us through continued description of ecclesiastical customs and

opinion, but by simply formulating the general truth: _Every symbol, every

external token, to which is attributed an independent power for

sanctification and an immediate moral influence, is Magic._ May the

Protestant reader, for whom we are here writing, examine with this maxim

in how far the Reformation, which aims to restore to internal

authority--the reason and free-will of the individual--its rights, has

succeeded in its task. Luther and Calvin assailed many magical usages, and

pruned many branches from the tree of dualism, but still allowed its

vigorous trunk to remain unscathed. But a dualistic religious system must,

on account of the unreasonable cosmical theory on which it rests, sooner

or later attack again the inner authority and make itself the sole and

absolute external one. It must of necessity degenerate to a statuary

fetichism or fall before a complete unitarian reformation. Our day

witnesses the conflict between these opposite ideas. On the one side, the

belief in a personal spiritual adversary of mankind, preached to the

masses from a thousand pulpits, hangs suspended like a sword of Damocles

over the head of civilization; on the other side, philosophy and the

science of nature diffuse a rational and unitarian theory of the universe

and human existence through a constantly enlarging circle. To him who

wishes to take part in this all-important struggle, we would commend these

words of the noble Bunsen:[27] "Wherever in religion, or state, or

civilization, in art or science, the inner is developed more strenuously,

and the spiritual earnestly sought after, be it with more or less

transformation of what is existing, there progress is at hand; for from

the inner, life comes to the external, from the centre to the

circumference. There is also the way which leads to life. There new paths

are opened to the soul, and genius lifts its wings with divine assurance.

If this is true, the contrary must take place wherever the external life

is more and more exalted, where the token supersedes more and more the

essence, the symbol and the external work the inner act and conscience,

where the superficies is taken for the content, the outer monotony for

life's uniformity, and appearances for truth. There a luckless future is

in waiting, whatever be the aspect of the present."

III.

THE MAGIC OF THE LEARNED.

We find ourselves in a dismal labyrinth of narrow, winding streets, now

and then issuing into some open space before a guild-hall or a church. The

objects which meet our gaze in this strange city do not solicit pause or

reflection; for we have seen essentially the same type of homes and

humanity in many another city which we have wandered through in our search

for the stone of wisdom. We therefore continue on our way. The buildings

of the university are said to be in the neighborhood, and we turn the

corner to the right, and again to the left, until we come upon it. The

lecture-hour approaches. Professors draped in stiff mantles and wearing

the scholastic cap on their supremely wise foreheads, wend their way to

the temples of knowledge at the portals of which flocks of students wait.

We recognize their various and familiar types: the new-matriculated look

as usual, their cheeks still retaining the glow of early youth, their

hearts still humble, perhaps still held captive by the sweet delusion that

the walls by which they wait are the propylaea to all the secrets of earth

and heaven. Just as readily recognized are the parchment-worms, destined

one day to shine as lights in the Church and in the domain of science,

whether they now toil themselves pale and melancholic over their _catenae_,

their _summae_ and _sententiae_, or bear with unfeigned self-satisfaction

the precious weight of _terms_ which lifts them so conspicuously above the

ignorant mass of mortals. And among the throng of the first named still

fresh with youth, and these already dried pedants, we find also the

far-famed third class of students, adventurers assembled from all quarters

under the protection of university-privileges,--those gentlemen with

bearded cheek, and faces swelled by drinking and scarred by combat, with

terribly long and broad swords dangling at their side,--the heroes of

that never ending Iliad which the apprentices of learning and the guilds

enact nightly in the darkness of the lanes, who may yet turn out some day

the most pious of conventical priors, the gravest doctors and the very

severest burgomasters in Christendom, unless before that time they meet

their fate upon the gallows, or on the field of battle, or as _scholares

vagantes_ in the ditch or by the roadside.

Shall we enter and listen to some of these lectures which are about to be

delivered? Our letter of academic membership will open the doors to us, if

we desire. To the left in the vaulted hall the professor of medicine has

commenced his lecture. With astonishing subtlety and penetration he

discusses the highly important question, before propounded by Petrus de

Abano, but not as yet fully solved,--"_an caput sit factum propter

cerebrum vel oculos_" (whether the head was formed for the sake of the

brain or the eyes). To the right the professor of theology leads us into

one of the dim mysteries of the Church by ventilating the question what

Peter would have done with the bread and wine, had he distributed the

elements while the body of Christ in unchanged reality was yet hanging on

the cross.[28] A little farther on in this mouldy vault we find the

workshop of philosophy, where a master in the art of abstract reasoning

deduces the distinction between _universalia ante rem_ and _universalia in

re_. In yonder furthest room a jurisconsult expounds a passage in the

pandects.--Or perhaps you would rather not choose at all? You smile sadly.

Alas! like myself you have good reason for complaining with Faust:--

I have, alas! Philosophy,

Med'cine, and Jurisprudence too,

And to my cost Theology,

With ardent labor studied through.

And here I stand, with all my lore,

Poor fool, no wiser than before.

and if you add like him,

Hence have I now applied myself to magic,

we shall bring back to our minds the object of our burning desires, the

hope which cheers us that finally the veil will be torn from the face of

the Isis-image, and that we shall behold the unspeakable face to face,

even though her looks burn us to ashes. Let us turn our back upon this

tragi-comic seat of learning, where, as everywhere else, hoary-headed

fools are teaching young chicken-heads to admire nonsense, and young

eagle-souls to despair of knowledge. It is not far hence direct--as direct

as the winding lanes permit--to that great magician who has taken up his

abode in this city. At the feet of that master let us seat ourselves. We

shall there slake our burning thirst with at least a few drops of that

knowledge which through by-gone ages has been flowing in a subterranean

channel, though from the same sources as the streams of Paradise. And if

we are disappointed there,--well, then _you_, if you so choose, can quench

your longing for truth in the whirlpool of pleasure and adventure. _I_

shall go into a monastery, seek the narrowest of its cells, watch, pray,

scourge forth my blood in streams; or I shall go to India, sit down upon

the ground and stare at the tip of my nose,--stare at it and never cease,

year out and year in, until all consciousness is extinguished. Agreed,

then, is it not?....

We are arrived in the very loneliest quarter of the town, and the most

dreary limits of the quarter, where old crumbling houses group themselves

in inextricable confusion along the city wall, and from their gable

windows fix their vacant, hypochondriacal looks upon the open fields

beyond. A tower, crowning the wall of the fort upon this side, now serves

the great scientist as an observatory and dwelling, given him by the

burgomaster and the council of the city. He was for a long time private

physician to the Queen of France, but has now retired to this lonely place

from the pleasures, the distinctions, and the dangers of life at court, in

order to devote himself quietly to research and study. He has a protector

in the prince-archbishop resident in the city; and as the professor of

theology has certified at the request of this same prince-bishop to his

strict orthodoxy, the city authorities thought to persuade him to receive

the honorable and lucrative position of town-astrologer, not heeding the

assertion of the monks that he was a wizard, and that his black spaniel

was in reality none other than the devil himself.

The Magic of the Middle Ages · 第 3 / 10 段