THE MAGIC OF THE CHURCH.
Magic is the harbinger of Science. In the history of human development, the dim perception precedes the clear, and the dominion of imagination that of reason. Before the latter could take upon itself the laborious task of connecting together by its own laws the facts of external and internal experience,—before there was any philosophy or natural science, imagination was bestirring itself in the creation of magic.
Like science, magic in its original form is based upon the principle that all things existing are concatenated. Science searches for the links of union both deductively and inductively; magic, seeking its support in the external resemblances between existing things,[13] and in a vague assurance of the power of the will and of words, establishes this connection freely by means of arbitrary associations between incongruous objects. Man engaged in a struggle for physical existence, aims in it less at theoretical knowing than at practical being able. The knowledge of mysteries will furnish means of becoming acceptable to his God, inaccessible to injurious influences, and master of his present and future existence and destiny.
The magical usages which exist among every people, present an almost infinite variety of forms. In the end, however, they can all be reduced to a single type.
Daily experience has taught that there exists between every cause and its effect a certain proportionate amount of force. Now since the effect aimed at in resorting to magic is of an extraordinary nature, the means which the magical art prescribes must possess extraordinary efficacy, such as reason can predict for it neither a priori nor by inductive reasoning. Furthermore, experience teaches us that will, as a mere inert desire, not yet expressed in action, does not attain its goal. Magical power therefore can not be sought for in the mere will as such, but action, that working of the senses which the will employs as a means, in which it reveals itself, must be added, whether the force of this sense-means, as the original magic supposes, depends on its mystical but necessary connection with its corresponding object in a higher sphere (for example, the connection between the metals and the planets), or as in the Church-magic, on an arbitrary decision of God, ordaining that a given means, employed as prescribed by him, shall produce an effect inconceivable by reason. In all employment of magic enter consequently, first, the subjective spiritual factor,—the will (in the language of the Church, faith); secondly, the sensuous means,—the fetich, the amulet, the holy water, the host, the formula of exorcism, the ceremony, etc.; and thirdly, the incomprehensible (“supernatural”) power which this means, appropriated by the will (or faith), possesses in the magical act.
A belief in magic is found among all nations. With those of unitarian views it was destined to be forced more and more into the background by the growth of speculation and natural science. With them there was also but one form of magic, although those in possession of its secret were considered able to exercise it for a useful or an injurious purpose alike. Only among nations holding dualistic views do we meet with magic in two forms: with the priests a white and a black,—the former as the good gift of Ormuzd, the latter as the evil gift of Ahriman; with the Christians of the Middle Ages a celestial magic and a diabolical,—the former a privilege of the Church and conferred by God as a weapon to aid in the conquest of Satan; the latter an infernal art to further unbelief and wickedness. Under a unitarian theory magic is only a preparation for natural philosophy and gradually gives place to it, until it is confined to the lowest classes as a relic of a past stage of development. The dualistic religious systems, on the contrary, blend in an intimate union with magic, give to it the same universally and eternally valid power which they ascribe to themselves, and place it on their own throne in the form of a divine and sacramental secret. Only thus can faith in magic stamp whole ages and periods of culture with its peculiar seal; only thus—after its separation into celestial and diabolical, and in that causal relation to the temporal or eternal weal or woe of man in which it is placed—does it become possessed of an absolute sovereignty over the imagination and emotions of a people.
Our consideration of the middle-age magic may commence with a description of the celestial or privileged magic, that is to say, that of the Church; in order that we may proceed in natural order to the ill-reputed magic of the learned (astrology, alchemy, sorcery), and the persecuted popular magic (in which the Church saw the really diabolical form); and end with an account of the terrible catastrophe which was caused by the contest which raged between them.
It is not the fault of the writer if the reader finds in the magic of the Church a caricature of what is holy, in which the comical element is overbalanced by the repulsive. The more objective the representation is to be made, the more unpleasant its features become. We will, then, be brief.
Like a thoughtful mother the Church cherishes and cares for man, and surrounds him from the cradle to the grave with its safeguards of magic. Shortly after the birth of a child the priest must be ready to sprinkle it with holy water, which by prayer and conjuration has been purified from the pollution of the demons inhabiting even this element. For the feeble being begotten in sin and by nature Lucifer’s property, without the grace of baptism, would be eternally lost to heaven, and eternally doomed to the torments of hell.[14]
Therefore more than one conscientious servant of the Church essayed to devise some means by which the saving water might be brought in contact with the child before it saw the light. Still this precautionary measure never became officially adopted. The efficacy of the baptismal water exceeds that of the pool Bethesda, which removed only bodily infirmities. Baptism saves millions of souls from hell. Foreseeing this the devil, filled with evil devices, had determined, already before the rise of Christianity, to debase and scorn this sacrament by making, in anticipation, a copy of it in the Mithras mysteries instituted by him, which insolently imitate in other respects the mysteries of the Church.
In baptism other means, consecrated by the priest, co-operate with the water: viz., the oil, the spittle (which the priest after baptism lets fall upon the child, and the efficacy of which is derived from Mark vii. 33), the salt, the milk and the honey.[15] Besides, there are the sign of the cross and the conjuration, which drive the tempter out of the child and prepare room for the Holy Ghost. With these magic ceremonies the child is received into the Church and from thenceforth becomes a sharer in the protection which it gives against the evil.
Baptismal, or holy water, when drunk by the sick and infirm, heals and strengthens; if sprinkled upon the fields promotes fertility, or given to the domestic animals, affords them protection against witchcraft.As baptism is the first saving and sanctifying sacrament offered to man, so the unction with holy oil which is administered to the dying, is the last. Between them the eucharist is a perennial source of power and sanctification,—the eucharist in which “Bread and wine, placed upon the altar, after performed consecration, are God’s true flesh and blood, which flesh perceptibly to the senses (sensualiter) is touched by the hands of the priest and masticated by the teeth of the believer.”[16] When the priest has pronounced the formula of transformation, he elevates the host,[17] now no longer bread but the body of Christ, the congregation kneels and the ringing of bells proclaims to the neighborhood that the greatest of all the works of magic is accomplished. Eaten by the faithful, the flesh of Christ enters into their own flesh and blood and wonderfully strengthens both soul and body.[18] Heretics in Arras who believed that righteousness was necessary to salvation and doubted the doctrine of transubstantiation, were converted as soon as Bishop Gerhard told them that, in the time of Gregory the Great, the consecrated bread had taken, before a doubting woman, the shape of Christ’s bleeding finger. A pious hermit who began to be afflicted by the same doubt, regained his faith when at the Communion he saw an angel apply the knife to an infant Jesus, at the very moment the priest broke the bread. There is much in the legends and chronicles about Jews who having secretly procured the host, and, to be revenged upon Christ, proceeding to pierce it with a knife, saw the blood stream forth in abundance; sometimes, indeed, a beautiful bleeding boy suddenly revealing himself. Such stories being freely circulated, led to severe persecutions (as in Namur, 1320).[19]If the eucharist is a partaking of food which strengthens the faithful in their struggle against sin, the sign of the cross is to be considered as his sword, and the sacred amulet as his armor. The cross is the sign in which the Christian shall conquer. [“In hoc signo vinces.”] With it he must commence every act; with it he repels every attack of the demons. “He who wishes to be convinced concerning this,” says St. Athanasius, “needs only to make the sign of the cross, which has become so ridiculous to the pagans, before the mocking delusions of the demons, the deceits of the oracles and the magi; and immediately he shall see the devil flee, the oracles confounded and all magic and sorcery revenged.” The amulets employed by the Church are various: medals bearing the image of Mary, consecrated images, especially the so-called lambs of God[20] (agnus Dei), the manufacture and sale of which a papal bull of 1471 reserves for the head of the Roman Church. If these bring the clergy immense sums of money, they also possess great power. They protect against dangers from fire or water, against storm and hail, sickness and witchcraft.[21] Along with the amulets the so-called conception-billets, which the Carmelite monks sell for a small sum, are of manifold use. These billets are made of consecrated paper, and heal, if swallowed, diseases natural and supernatural; laid in a cradle guard the child against witchcraft; buried in the corner of a field protect it against bad weather and destructive insects. Conception-billets are put under the thresholds of houses and barns, are attached to beer casks and butter dishes to avert sorcery. They are fabricated by the monks according to an authenticated formulary which, as characteristic and comparatively brief, deserves citation:—
“I conjure thee, paper (or parchment), thou which servest the needs of humanity, servest as the depository of God’s wonderful deeds and holy laws, as also according to divine command the marriage contract between Tobias and Sarah was written upon thee, the Scriptures saying: They took paper and signed their marriage covenant. Through thee, O paper, hath also the devil been conquered by the angel. I adjure thee by God, the Lord of the universe (sign of the cross!), the Son (sign of the cross!), and the Holy Ghost (sign of the cross!), who spreads out the heavens as a parchment on which he describes as with divine characters his magnificence. Bless (sign of the cross!), O God, sanctify (sign of the cross!) this paper that so it may frustrate the work of the Devil!
“He who upon his person carries this paper written with holy words, or affixes it to a house, shall be freed from the visitations of Satan through him who cometh to judge the quick and dead.
“Let us pray.
“Mighty and resistless God, the God of vengeance, God of our fathers, who hast revealed through Moses and the prophets the books of thy ancient covenant and many secrets of thy kindness, and didst cause the Gospel of thy Son to be written by the evangelists and apostles, bless (sign of the cross!) and sanctify (sign of the cross!) this paper that thy mercy may be made known unto whatsoever soul shall bear with him this sacred thing and these holy letters; and that all persecutions against him from the devil and by the storms of Satanic witchcraft may be frustrated through Christ our Lord. Amen.
“(The paper to be sprinkled with holy water.)”
With the amulets and these conception-billets belong also in the armory of the Church, the wonder-working relics, and images of the saints. God has ordained graciously that the Church shall not give up its battle against the powers of sin for want of weapons. Its offensive and defensive appliances are manifold. Its warriors, the priests, are like knights encased in mail from head to foot, and armed with lance, sword, dagger and morning star. Almost every district has its treasure of relics, which, preserved in shrines and exhibited on solemn occasions to the pious people, constitutes its palladium, impedes or prevents the attack of hostile forces, and assuages or averts the ravages of plagues. Not only corporeal relics of saints and martyrs, but also every thing they may have touched during their lifetime, yea, even the very dew-drops upon their graves, are a terror to the fiends and a means of spiritual and bodily strength unto the faithful. The miraculous properties of the images are recounted in a hundred legends. By the direct agency of divine power, there exists uninterruptedly between them and the persons they represent a mystical relation. Upon this St. Hieronymus throws some light when he exclaims against Vigilantius, who had blindly opposed the worship of images: “You dare prescribe laws to God! You presume to put the apostles in chains so that they are kept even to the Day of Judgment in their prison, and are denied the privilege of being with their Lord, although it is written that they shall be with Him wherever they go! If the Lamb is omnipresent, we must believe that those who are with the Lamb are omnipresent also. If the devils and the demons rove through the world and by their inconceivable rapidity of motion are present everywhere, should then the martyrs, after shedding their blood, remain confined in their coffins and never be able to leave them!”
As old age and death are consequences of Adam’s fall, so are almost all ailments produced by that power over man’s corporeal nature conceded to Satan, when God pronounced his curse upon the race. So also are the remaining diseases and infirmities of man, called either rightly or wrongly natural, cured with greatest certainty by invoking the help of God. Therefore the mediator between God and men, the Church, through its servants is the only sure and only legitimate physician. [“Operatio sanandi est in ecclesia per verba, ritus, exorcismos, aquam, salem, herbas, idque nedum contra diabolos et effectus magicos, sed et morbos omnes.”] The priest effects cures in behalf of the Church and in the name of God by means of prayer, the laying on of hands, exorcism, relics and consecrated natural means, especially water, salt and oil. In doing this he acts as the visible delegate of an unseen higher physician, the saint ordained of God to be the healer of the sickness. For every affliction has its physician among the ranks of the saints. St. Valentine cures epilepsy, St. Gervasius rheumatic pains, St. Michael de Sanatis cancer and tumors, St. Judas coughs, St. Ovidius deafness, St. Sebastian contagious fevers and poisonous bites, St. Apollonia toothache, St. Clara and St. Lucia rheum in the eyes, and so on. The legends relate wonderful effects of the healing powers possessed by St. Damianus, St. Patrick and St. Hubert. The terrible disease of hydrophobia was cured by the last named. In the cloisters in Luxembourg named after this saint, hydrophobia was cured many years after his death by bringing the afflicted into the church during the progress of the service, and pressing a hair from the saint’s mantle into a slight incision made for the occasion in his forehead. For the benefit of those who lived far from the cloister, the so-called “Hubertus-bands” and “Hubertus-keys” were consecrated; these were applied, heated white-hot, to the wound.[22] Similar curative agencies might be mentioned by hundreds.
Among all afflictions, the state of being possessed by devils occupies the most remarkable place in the annals of the Church, and is seen to have required the most powerful exorcisms for its cure. The ecclesiastical pathology declares that in this disease the devil is unhidden, while in all others he is concealed. The exorciser who is to expel the fiend appears in full priestly vesture; incense and consecrated wax tapers are lighted, all the objects surrounding the demoniac are sprinkled with holy water, the air around is purified by the pronunciation of certain formulas; then follow fervent prayers and finally the desperate and awful struggle between the demon, now convulsively distorting the limbs of his victim and uttering by his lips the most harrowing blasphemies, and the priest, who employs more and more powerful adjurations until the victory finally is his.
The secular medical art—that relying upon natural means—as either superfluous, or as strongly tainted with heresy, must be despised. Dissection, in order to investigate the structure of the human body, is presumption; it can even be asked with reason if it does not argue contempt for the doctrine of the final resurrection. The secular art of healing was consequently for a long time confined to the infidel Jews. But when princes and the opulent, weakly apprehending the insufficiency of the word, the relics and the consecrated remedies, had begun to keep physicians, the profane art of medicine became a lucrative profession, and schools for its cultivation were established under royal protection. Such is that of Salerno, which the warders of Zion can not regard without suspicion. It is a school which prescribes pedantic rules for diet, as if one’s diet could protect against the attacks of the devil! The Greek pagan Hippocrates, who for a long time wandered about with Jews and Arabs, thus finds at last a settled abode within its walls,—Hippocrates who had to assert of demonianism (morbus sacer) itself that it is “nowise more divine, nowise more infernal, than any other disease!” When the teacher is such, what must the disciples be? The Church will not forbid absolutely the practice of medicine, since it may do some good in the case of external injury, or in time of pestilence; but she must keep strict watch over the orthodoxy of those who cultivate this art. At several councils (as at Rheims in 1131, the second Lateran in 1139, and at Tours, 1163) she has strenuously prohibited her servants from having any thing to do with this suspected profession. Experience has taught, however, not to exaggerate the dangers attending it. The secular physicians must frequently concede that such and such a sickness is caused by witchcraft, and consequently is of supernatural origin. Slanderers might allege that such a declaration is more convenient than an investigation into the causes of the disease in the natural way, and less unpleasant than acknowledging one’s ignorance. But be this as it may: the concession implies a recognition of the supernaturalism of the Church, and may therefore be rather recommended than reprehended.
“It is,” says Thomas Aquinas, “a dogma of faith that the demons can produce wind, storms, and rain of fire from heaven. The atmosphere is a battle-field between angels and devils. The latter work the constant injury of man, the former his melioration; and the consequence is that changeableness of weather which threatens to frustrate the hopes of husbandry. And when Lucifer is able to bestow even upon man—on sorcerers and wizards—the power to destroy the fields, the vineyards and dwellings of man by rain, hail and lightning, is it to be wondered at if the Church, which is man’s protection against the devil, and whose especial calling it is to fight him, should in this sphere also be his counterpoise, and should seek from the treasury of its divine power, means adequate to frustrate his atmospheric mischiefs? To these means belong the church bells, provided they have been duly consecrated and baptized. The aspiring steeples around which cluster the low dwellings of men, are to be likened, when the bells in them are ringing, to the hen spreading its protecting wings over its chickens; for the tones of the consecrated metal repel the demons and avert storm and lightning” (“Vivos voco, mortuos plango, SULPHURA FRANGO,” a common inscription on church bells). Tillers of the soil who desire especial protection from the Church for their harvests, pay it tithes for a blessing. During protracted drought the priests make intercession and inaugurate rain-processions, in which images of the Virgin are borne into the fields, which are sprinkled with holy water while the weather-collect is chanted.[23] If the fields are visited by hurtful insects, the Church has remedies against them also. It commands them in the name of God to depart, and if they do not obey, a regular process is instituted against them, which ends in their exemplary punishment; for they are excommunicated by the Church. Such processes were very frequently resorted to in the Middle Ages, and a couple of such instances will be cited.
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 ChassanÆus (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.”
