CHAPTER IX.
Illustrations of Early Manners—Sorcery—The Knight and the Necromancer—Waxen Figures—Degeneracy of Witches—The Clerk and the Image—Gerbert and Natural Magic—Elfin Chivalry—The Demon Knight of the Vandal Camp—Scott’s Marmion—Assumption of Human Forms by Spirits—The Seductions of the Evil One—Religious Origin of Charges of Witchcraft.
“The attention of the king’s daughter to the wounded knight,” remarked Herbert, “reminds me strongly of the patriarchal habits described by Homer in his Odyssey. The daughter of Nestor thinks it no disgrace or indelicacy to attend to the bath of the wandering Telemachus, and Helen herself seems to have performed a like office for his father.”
“The tales of chivalry are replete with instances of these simple manners,” rejoined Lathom; “the king’s daughter, the fair virgin princess, is ever the kind attendant on the honored guest, prepares his bath after the fatigues of the day, and ministers to his wounds by her medicinal skill.”
“Your old monk’s tales,” said Thompson, “have no little merit, as illustrations of the manners and habits of the middle ages.”
“Indeed, the light is curious that is thrown by thesetales on the habits of the middle ages,” answered Lathom; “in these vivid and strongly delineated fictions, I seem to fight, to tilt, to make love and war, to perform penances, and to witness miracles with the actors themselves.”
“We cannot but feel, however,” remarked Herbert, “that we are more inclined to laugh at the regulations of their chivalry, than to appreciate them. The absurd penances with which imaginable crimes were visited in those days cannot but raise a smile, whilst the utter carelessness with which enormous sins were committed, excites extreme regret.”
“What fragrant viands furnish forthOur evening’s entertainment?”
“What fragrant viands furnish forthOur evening’s entertainment?”
“What fragrant viands furnish forthOur evening’s entertainment?”
“What fragrant viands furnish forth
Our evening’s entertainment?”
said Thompson.
“Some illustrations of witchcraft and sorcery; that most prevalent belief, from the middle ages, to the days of the sapient James the First.”
“Among all curious discoveries, this would be the most curious,” said Herbert: “to find a people in whom there never has existed a belief that human beings could be gifted with supernatural powers, for the purpose of accomplishing some good or evil object of their desire.”
“Wherever Christianity spread, witchcraft must be regarded as a recognized form in which the powers of evil contended with the Almighty.”
“Of what sex is your witch?” asked Thompson.
“Oh, in this case, the good and the bad sorcerers are both of the male sex.”
“Your writer, therefore,” replied Thompson, “does not seem to have held the ungallant notions of Sprenger, that from the natural inferiority of their minds, and wickedness of their hearts, the Devil always preferred women for his agents. But to the story.”
“Well, then, as the old chronicler would say, here begins the tale of
“THE KNIGHT AND THE NECROMANCER.”
Among the knights that graced the court of the Emperor Titus, there was one whom all men agreed in calling theGOOD KNIGHT. For some years he had been married to one whose beauty was her fairest portion, for she loved not the knight, her husband, but delighted in the company of others, and would gladly have devised his death, that she might marry another courtier.
The good knight could not fail of discovering the wickedness of his wife. Ofttimes did he remonstrate with her; but to all he said, she turned a deaf ear, and would not return the affection he felt, for one so unworthy of his love.
“My dear wife,” said the good knight, “I go to the Holy Land, to perform a vow: I leave you to your own discretion.”
The knight had no sooner embarked, than the lady sent for one of her lovers, a clever sorcerer.
“Know,” said she to him, when he arrived at the house, “my husband has sailed for the Holy Land; we live together; ay, and for all our lives, if you will but compass his death; for I love him not.”
“There is danger,” replied the necromancer;“but, for the sake of thee and thy love, I will endeavor to perform your wishes.”
Then took he wax and herbs, gathered at dead of night in secret places, and unguents made of unknown ingredients, and moulded a figure of the good knight, inscribing it with his name, placing it before him, against the wall of the lady’s chamber.
The good knight commenced his pilgrimage towards the Holy Land, and wist not what the lady and her lover were plotting against him and his dear life. As he descended towards the vessel in which he was to embark, he observed a man of some age, and of lofty and commanding stature, regarding him with interest. A long robe covered him, and its hood drawn over the face, concealed, in a great degree, the features of the wearer. At last the old man approached the knight.
“Good friend,” said he, “I have a secret to communicate to thee.”
“Say on, good father,” rejoined the knight, “what wouldest thou with me?”
“I would preserve thee from death.”
“Nay, father, that is in God’s hands; I fight not against his will.”
“To-day, then, thou diest; unless thou obeyest my commands:—and, listen, the lover of thy unfaithful wife is thy murderer.”
“Good sir,” replied the knight, “I perceive thou art a wise man; what shall I do to escape this sudden death?”
“Follow, and obey me.”
Many and winding were the streets through which the good knight followed his mysterious guide. At last they reached a dark, dismal-looking house, apparently without any inhabitant. The guide pressed his foot on the doorstep, and the door slowly opened, closing again as the knight followed the old man into the house. All was darkness, but the guide seized the knight’s hand and led him up the tottering staircase to a large room, in which were many strange books and figures of men and animals, interspersed with symbolic emblems of triangles and circles, whose meaning was known to that aged man alone. In the midst of the room was a table, on which burned a lamp without a wick or a reservoir of oil, for it fed on a vapor that was lighter than air, and was invisible to the eye. The old man spoke some words, to the knight unknown; in a moment the floor clave asunder, and a bath, on whose sides the same mystic symbols were written as on the walls of the room, arose from beneath.
“Prepare to bathe,” said the old man, opening a book on the table, and taking a bright mirror from a casket.
No sooner had the knight entered the bath than the old man gave him a mirror and bid him look into it.
“What seest thou?” asked he of the knight.
“I see my own chamber; my wife is there, and Maleficus, the greatest sorcerer in Rome.”
“What does the sorcerer?”
“He kneads wax and other ingredients; he hath made a figure of me, and written under it my name; even now he fastens it against the wall of my chamber.”
“Look again,” said the old man; “what does he?”
“He takes a bow; he fits an arrow to the string; he aims at the effigy.”
“Look on: as you love your life, when that arrow leaves the string, plunge beneath the water till you hear me call.”
“He shoots!” exclaimed the knight as he dived beneath the water.
“Come out; look again at the mirror; what seest thou?”
“An arrow is sticking in the wall, by the side of the figure. The sorcerer seems angry; he draws out the arrow, and prepares to shoot again from a nearer place.”
“As you value your life, do as before.”
Again the good knight plunged, and at the old man’s call resumed his inspection of the mirror.
“What seest thou now?” asked the old man.
“Maleficus has again missed the image; he makes great lamentations; he says to my wife: ‘If I miss the third time, I die’; he goes nearer to the image, and prepares to shoot.”
“Plunge!” cried the old man; and then, after a time: “Raise thyself, and look again; why laughest thou?”
“To see the reward of the wicked; the arrow has missed, rebounded from the wall, and pierced the sorcerer; he faints, he dies, my wife stands over his body, and weeps; she digs a hole under the bed, and buries the body.”
“Arise, sir knight: resume your apparel, and give God thanks for your great deliverance.”
A year and more elapsed before the good knight returned from his pilgrimage. His wife welcomed him with smiles and every appearance of pleasure. For a few days the knight concealed his knowledge of his wife’s conduct. At length he summoned all his and her kinsfolk, and they feasted in commemoration of his return from his dangerous pilgrimage.
“Brother,” said the knight during the feast, “how is it that I neither hear nor see aught of Maleficus, the great magician?”
“He disappeared, we know not whither, thevery day that you departed for your pilgrimage.”
“And where did he die?” asked the knight, with a look at his wife.
“We know not that he is dead,” replied the guests.
“How should a sorcerer die?” asked the knight’s wife with a sneer.
“If not dead, why did you bury him?” rejoined the knight.
“Bury him! what meanest thou, my lord? I bury him!”
“Yes, you bury him,” said the knight, calmly.
“Brothers, he is mad,” exclaimed the lady, turning pale and trembling.
“Woman,” replied the knight, rising, and seizing the lady by the wrist, “woman, I am not mad. Hear ye all: this woman loved Maleficus; she called him here the day I sailed; she devised with him my death; but God struck him with that death he would have prepared for me, and now he lies buried in my chamber. Come, let us see this great wonder.”
The hiding-place of the body was opened, and the remains found where the knight had said; then did he declare before the judges and the people the great crimes of his wife; and the judges condemned her to death at the stake,and bade the executioner scatter her ashes to the four winds of heaven.
“Few practices were more prevalent among the witches than that which your tale illustrates, of effecting the death of an enemy through the medium of an enchanted image of the person intended to be affected,” said Herbert.
“As old Ben Jonson sings:
“‘With pictures full,Of wax and wool,Their livers I stick,With needles quick.’”
“‘With pictures full,Of wax and wool,Their livers I stick,With needles quick.’”
“‘With pictures full,Of wax and wool,Their livers I stick,With needles quick.’”
“‘With pictures full,
Of wax and wool,
Their livers I stick,
With needles quick.’”
“Yes,” said Herbert; “it was a very approved method to melt a waxen image before the fire, under the idea that the person by it represented would pine away, as the figure melted; or to stick pins and needles into the heart or less vital parts of the waxen resemblance, with the hopes of affecting, by disease and pain, the portions of the human being thus represented and treated.”
“In one of the old ballad romances in which Alexander is celebrated, we find a full account of the wondrous puppets of a king and magician named Nectabanus. I will read you the old verses.
“‘Barons were whilhome wise and good,That this art well understood;And one there was, Nectabanus,Wise in this art, and malicious;When king or earl came on him to war,Quick he looked on the star;Of wax, made him puppets,And made them fight with bats (clubs);And so he learnedJe vous dis,Aye to quell his enemyWith charms and with conjurisons:Thus he assayed the regions,That him came for to assail,In very manner of battail;By clear candle in the night,He made each one with other fight.’”
“‘Barons were whilhome wise and good,That this art well understood;And one there was, Nectabanus,Wise in this art, and malicious;When king or earl came on him to war,Quick he looked on the star;Of wax, made him puppets,And made them fight with bats (clubs);And so he learnedJe vous dis,Aye to quell his enemyWith charms and with conjurisons:Thus he assayed the regions,That him came for to assail,In very manner of battail;By clear candle in the night,He made each one with other fight.’”
“‘Barons were whilhome wise and good,That this art well understood;And one there was, Nectabanus,Wise in this art, and malicious;When king or earl came on him to war,Quick he looked on the star;Of wax, made him puppets,And made them fight with bats (clubs);And so he learnedJe vous dis,Aye to quell his enemyWith charms and with conjurisons:Thus he assayed the regions,That him came for to assail,In very manner of battail;By clear candle in the night,He made each one with other fight.’”
“‘Barons were whilhome wise and good,
That this art well understood;
And one there was, Nectabanus,
Wise in this art, and malicious;
When king or earl came on him to war,
Quick he looked on the star;
Of wax, made him puppets,
And made them fight with bats (clubs);
And so he learnedJe vous dis,
Aye to quell his enemy
With charms and with conjurisons:
Thus he assayed the regions,
That him came for to assail,
In very manner of battail;
By clear candle in the night,
He made each one with other fight.’”
“No bad way,” said Thompson, “of testing the advantage of that royal and national luxury—war.”
“The rhymer makes his charms successful, especially in the case of one King Philip, a great and powerful prince, who brought nine-and-twenty great lords to battle against Nectabanus. Once put into his charmed basin, the magician saw the end of the battle, the defeat and death of his enemy.”
“The old Romans had as much fear of the waxen image, as good King James,” remarked Herbert; “and were as firm believers in the feats of Canidia over the enchanted model, as the Scottish King in the modelling of his national wiches, and the secret cavern on the hill, where Satan and his imps manufacture devils’ arrows to shoot at the enemies of the witches.”
“‘Sympathia Magicaworks wondrous charms,’ says Scott; and so before him dreamt the Arabian philosophers, and the royal witch-finder, who founds his arguments against waxen images on the doctrine of sympathy,” said Thompson.
“It is worth remarking,” said Herbert, “how witchcraft degenerated, not in its powers, but in its persons of the supposed witches. Joan of Arc, the wife of the protector Somerset, the mistress of Richard III., were in early days deemed worthy of being punished as witches. In later days, the charge was confined to the oldest, the ugliest, and generally the poorest crone in the neighborhood.”
“With the fashion of political-witchcraft, the custom of charging persons of rank with the crime, died away,” replied Lathom. “Instead of torturing images, or raising spirits for the sake of crowns and thrones, the witches became content to tease a neighbor’s child, or render a farmer’s cow barren. The last instance of such a charge against a person of rank, is the case of the Countess of Essex. The charges of sorcery, however,formed but a small portion of the accusations against the countess.”
“We are forgetting the moral,” said Thompson.
“It is short and plain,” answered Lathom, “and intended to be illustrative of the advantage of the confession of sins. The good knight is the soul of man, and his wicked wife the flesh of his body. The pilgrimage represents our good deeds. The wise magician, a prudent priest. Maleficus stands as the representative of the Devil, and the image is human pride and vanity; add to these the bath of confession, and the mirror of the sacred writings, by which the arrows of sin are warded off, and the allegory is complete.”
“Does your storehouse afford another magical tale?” asked Thompson.
“Many more; I will read one that is short, but curious, from its being founded on a generally received legend of the monk Gerbert, afterwards Pope Sylvester. I will call it, for want of a better name,