MIRACULOUS CURES.
"Spiritus in nobis qui viget, illa facit."—
Corn. Agrippa, Ep. xiv.
The uniform and indispensable condition of all miraculous cures, whether produced by prayer, imposition of hands, penitential castigation, or magic power, is faith. Physician and patient alike must believe that disease is the consequence of sin, and accept the literal meaning of the Saviour's words, when he had cured the impotent man near the pool called Bethesda, and said: "Behold, thou art made whole: sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee." (St. John v. 14.) Like their great teacher, all the apostles and saints of the church have ever insisted upon repentance in the heart before health in body could be accorded. It is interesting to notice, moreover, that all Oriental sages, the Kabbalists and later Theosophists, have, without exception, adopted the same view, however widely they may have differed on other points. In one feature only some disagreed: they ascribed to evil spirits what others attributed to sin; but the difference is only nominal, for men, by sin, enter into communion with evil spirits, and become subject to their power. Hence the woman "which had a spirit of infirmity eighteen years" was said to have been "bound by Satan," and when she was healed she was "loosed from the bond." (Luke xiii. 16.)
To this common faith must be added on the part of the physician an energetic will, and in the patient an excited imagination. The history of all ages teaches, beyond the possibility of doubt, that where these elements are present results have been obtained which excite the marvel of men by their astonishing promptness, and their apparent impossibility. They seem generally to be the result of certain symbolic but extremely simple acts, such as the imposition of hands—which may possibly produce a concentration of power—the utterance of a blessing, or merely a continued, fixed glance. The main point, however, is, of course, the psychical energy which is here made available by a process as yet unknown. Prayer is probably the simplest agency, since it naturally encourages and elevates the innermost heart of man, and fills him with that perfect hope and confidence which are necessary for his recovery. This hope is, in the case of miraculous cures performed at the shrines of saints, materially strengthened by the collective force of all preceding cures, which tradition has brought to bear upon the mind, while the senses are powerfully impressed, at the same time, by the surroundings, and especially the votive offerings testifying to the reality of former miracles. In the case of relics, where the Church sees simply miracles, many men believe in a continuing magic power perceptible only to very sensitive patients; thus the great theologian, Tholuk, ascribes to the "handkerchiefs or aprons" which were brought from the body of St. Paul, and drove away diseases and evil spirits (Acts xix. 12), a special curative power with which they were impregnated. (Verm. Schriften, I. p. 80.) At certain times, when the mind of a whole people is excited, and hence peculiarly predisposed to meet powerful impressions from specially gifted and highly privileged persons, such miraculous cures are, of course, most numerous and most striking. This was the case, for instance, in the first days of Christianity, at the time of the Reformation, and during the years which saw the Order of Jesuits established. There is little to be gained, therefore, by confining the era of such phenomena to a certain period—to the days of the apostles, when alone genuine miracles were performed, as many divines believe, or to the first three centuries after Christ, during which Tholuk and others still see magic performances. Magnetic and miraculous cures differ not in their nature, but only in their first cause, precisely as the trance of somnambulists is identical with the trance of religious enthusiasts. The difference lies only in the faith which performs the cure; if it is purely human, the effect will be only partial, and in most cases ephemeral; if divine faith and the highest power co-operate, as in genuine miracles, the effect is instantaneous and permanent. Hence the contrast between the man who at the Lord's bidding "took up his bed and walked" and the countless cripples who have thrown aside their crutches at the graves of saints, only to resume them a day or two afterward, when, with the excitement, the newly acquired power also had disappeared. But hence, also, the resemblance between many acts of the early Jesuit Fathers and those of the apostles; the intense energy of the former, supported by pure and unwavering faith, produced results which were to all intents and purposes miraculous. With the death of men like St. Xavier, and the rise of worldly ambition in the hearts of the Fathers, this power disappeared, and modern miracles have become a snare and a delusion to simple-minded believers.
The faith in such psychical power possessed by a few privileged persons is as old as the world. Pythagoras performed cures by enchantment; Ælius Aristides, who had consulted learned physicians for ten years in vain, and Marcus Antoninus, were both cured by incubation. Tacitus tells us that the Emperor Vespasian restored a blind man's sight by moistening his eye with saliva, and to a lame man the use of his feet by treading hard upon him. (Hist. l. iv. c. 8.) Both cures were performed before an immense crowd in Alexandria, and in both cases the petitioners had themselves indicated the means by which they were to be restored, the emperor yielding only very reluctantly to their prayers and the urgent requests of his courtiers. (Sueton., Vita Vespas.) Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, had cured colic and diseases of the kidneys by placing the patient on his back and touching him with his big toe (Plutarch, Vita Pyrrhi); and hence Vespasian and Hadrian both used the same method!
The imposition of hands, for the purpose of performing miraculous cures, has been practised from time immemorial; Chaldees and Brahmins alike using it in cases of malignant diseases. The kings of England and of France, and even the counts of Hapsburg in Germany, have ever been reputed to be able to cure goîtres by the touch of their hands, and hence the complaint was called the "king's evil." The idea seems to have originated in the high north; King Olave, the saint, being reported by Snorre Sturleson as having performed the ceremony. From thence, no doubt, it was carried to England, where Edward the Confessor seems to have been the first to cure goîtres. In France each monarch upon ascending the throne received at the consecration the secret of the modus operandi and the sacred formula—for here also the spoken word went hand in hand with the magic touch. Philip I. was the first and Charles I. the last monarch who performed the cure publicly, uttering the ancient phrase: "Le roi te touche, Dieu te guérisse!" In a somewhat similar manner the Saludadores and Ensalmadores of Spain cured, not goîtres and stammering only, as the monarchs we have mentioned, but almost all the ills to which human flesh is heir, by imposition of hands, fervent prayer and breathing upon the patient.
Similar gifts are ascribed to Eastern potentates, and the ruling dynasty in Persia claims to have inherited the power of healing the sick from an early ancestor, the holy Sheik Sephy. The great traveler Chardin saw patients hardly able to crawl dragging themselves to the feet of the Shah, and beseeching him only to dip the end of his finger into a bowl of water, and thus to bestow upon it healing power. It will excite little wonder to learn that those remarkable men who succeeded by the fire of their eloquence and the power of contagious enthusiasm to array one world in arms against another, the authors of the Crusades, should have been able to perform miraculous cures. Peter of Amiens and Bernard of Clairvaux obtained such a hold on the minds of faithful believers, that their curse produced spasms and fearful sufferings in the guilty, while their blessing restored speech to the dumb, and health to the sick. Here also special power was attributed even to their clothes, and many remarkable results were obtained by the mere touch. Spain, the home of fervent ascetic faith, abounds in saints who performed miracles, the most successful of whom was probably Raimundus Normatus (so called because not born of woman, but cut from his dead mother's body by skillful physicians), who cured, during the plague of 1200, great numbers of men by the sign of the cross. To this class of men belong also, as mentioned before, the early fathers of the Society of Jesus, though their powers were as different as their characters. Ignatius Loyola, who represented the intelligence of the new order, performed few miraculous cures; Xavier, on the contrary, the man of brilliant fancy, was successful in a great variety of cases. The first leaders, like Loinez, Salmeron and Bobadilla, had no magic power at all, but later successors, like Ochioa Carrera and Kepel, displayed it in a surprising degree, although Ochioa's gifts were distinctly limited to the healing of the sick by the imposition of hands. The whole period of this intense excitement extended only over sixteen years, from 1540 to 1556, after which the vivid faith, which had alone made the cures possible, disappeared. It is worth mentioning that the Jesuits themselves and most of their historians deny that they ever had power to perform miracles, and ascribe the cures to the faith of the patients alone. St. Xavier, it is well known, brought the dead to life again, and even if we assume that they lay only in syncope and had not yet really died, the recovery is scarcely less striking. The most remarkable of these cases is that of an only daughter of a Japanese nobleman. Her death stunned the father, a great lord possessed of immense wealth, to such a degree that his friends feared for his reason; at last they urged him to apply to the great missionary for help. He did so; the Jesuit, filled with compassion, asked a brother priest to join him in prayer, and both fell upon their knees and prayed with great fervor. Xavier returned to the pagan with joyous face and bade him take comfort, as his daughter was alive and well. The nobleman, very unlike the father in Holy Writ, was indignant, thinking that the holy man either did not believe his child had died or refused to assist him; but as he went home, a page came running up to meet him, bringing the welcome message that his daughter was really alive and well. She told him after his return, that her soul upon leaving the body had been seized by hideous shapes and dragged towards an enormous fire, but that suddenly two excellent men had interposed, rescuing her from their hands, and leading her back to life. The happy father immediately returned with her to the holy man, and as soon as his child beheld Xavier and his companion, she fell down at their feet and declared that they were the friends who had brought her back from the lower world. Shortly afterwards the father and his whole family became Christians. (Orlandini, Hist. Soc. Jesu., ix. c. 213.) The case seems to be very simple, and is one of the most instructive of modern magic. The girl was not dead, but lay in a cataleptic trance, in which she had visions of fearful scenes, and transformed the fierce hold which the disease had on her body into the grasp of hostile powers trying to obtain possession of her soul. At the same time she became clairvoyant, and thus saw Xavier and his companion distinctly enough to recognize them afterwards. The cure was accomplished by the Almighty in answer to the fervent prayer of two pious men filled with pure faith, according to the sacred promise: "The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." All the more is it to be regretted that even in those days of genuine piety and rapturous faith, foreign elements should at once have been mixed up with the true doctrine; for already Caspar Bersaeus ascribed some of his cures to the Holy Virgin; and soon the power passed away, when the honor was no longer given to Him to whom alone it was due.
From that day the power to perform miraculous cures has been but rarely and exceptionably granted to a few individuals. Thus Matthias Will, a German divine of the seventeenth century, was as famous for his marvelous power over the sick and the possessed as for his fervent piety, his incessant praying and fasting, and his utter self-abnegation. Sufferers were brought to him from every part of Christendom, and hundreds who had been given up by their physicians were healed by his earnest prayers and the blessing he invoked from on high. His memory still survives in his home, and an inscription on his tombstone records his extraordinary powers. (Cath. Encycl., Suppl. I. 1320.) Even the Jansenists, with all their hostility to certain usages of the Church, had their famous Abbé Paris, whose grave in the Cemetery of St. Médard became in 1727 the scene of a number of miraculous cures, fully attested by legal evidence and amply described by Montgéron, a man whom the Abbé had in his lifetime changed from a reckless profligate into a truly pious Christian. (La vérité des miracles, etc., Paris, 1737.) The magic phenomena exhibited on this occasion were widely discussed and great numbers of books and pamphlets written for and against their genuineness, until the subject became so obscured by party spirit that it is extremely difficult, in our day, to separate the truth from its large admixture of unreliable statements. A peculiar feature of these scenes—admitted in its full extent by adversaries even—was the perfect insensibility of most of the enthusiasts, the so-called Convulsionnaires. Jansenists by conviction, these men, calm and cool in their ordinary pursuits, had been so wrought up by religious excitement that they fell, twenty or more at a time, into violent convulsions and demanded to be beaten with huge iron-shod clubs in order to be relieved of an unbearable pressure upon the abdomen. They endured, in this manner, blows inflicted upon the pit of the stomach which under ordinary circumstances would have caused grievous if not fatal consequences.
The above-mentioned witness, who saw their almost incredible sufferings, Carré de Montgéron, states that he himself used an iron club ending in a ball and weighing from twenty to thirty pounds. One of the female enthusiasts complained that the ordinary blows were not sufficient to give her relief, whereupon he beat her sixty times with all his strength. But this also was unavailing, and a large and more powerful man who was standing near had to take the fearful instrument and with his strong arms gave her a hundred additional blows! The tension of her muscles must have been most extraordinary, for she not only bore the blows, which would have killed a strong person in natural health, but the wall against which she was leaning actually began to tremble and totter from the violent concussion. Nor were the blows simply resisted by the turgescence of the body; the skin itself seemed to have been modified in a manner unknown in a state of health. Thus one of the brothers Marion felt nothing of thrusts made by a sharp-pointed knife against his abdomen and the skin was in no instance injured. To do this the trance in which he lay must necessarily have induced an entire change of the organic atoms, and this is one of the most important magic phenomena connected with this class of visions, which will be discussed in another place.
It is well known that the cures performed at the grave of the Abbé Paris and the terrible scenes enacted there by these convulsionnaires excited so much attention that at last the king saw himself compelled to put a stop to the proceedings. After a careful investigation of the whole matter by men specially appointed for the purpose, the grounds were guarded, access was prohibited, and the wags of Paris placed at the entrance the following announcement:
"Défense de par le Roy. Défense à Dieu,
De faire miracle en ce lieu!"
Ireland had in the seventeenth century her Greatrakes, who, according to unimpeachable testimony, cured nearly every disease known to man, by his simple touch—and fervent prayer.
Valentine Greatrakes, of Waterford, in Ireland, had dreamt, in 1662, that he possessed the gift to cure goîtres by simple imposition of hands, after the manner of the kings of England and of France. It was, however, only when the dream was several times repeated that he heeded it and tried his power on his wife. The success he met with in his first effort encouraged him to attempt other cases also, and soon his fame spread so far that he was sent for to come to London and perform some cures at Whitehall. He was invariably successful, but had much to endure from the sneers of the courtiers, as he insisted upon curing animals as well as men. His cures were attested by men of high authority, such as John Glanville, chaplain to Charles II., Bishop Rust, of Dromor, in Ireland, several physicians of great eminence, and the famous Robert Boyle, the president of the Royal Society. According to their uniform testimony Greatrakes was a simple-hearted, pious man, as far from imposture as from pretension, who firmly believed that God had entrusted to him a special power, and succeeded in impressing others with the same conviction. His method was extremely simple: he placed his hands upon the affected part, or rubbed it gently for some time, whereupon the pains, swellings, or ulcers which he wished to cure, first subsided and then disappeared entirely. It is very remarkable that here also all seemed to depend on the nature of the faith of the patient, for according to the measure of faith held by the latter the cure would be either almost instantaneous or less prompt, and in some cases requiring several days and many interviews. He was frequently accused of practising sorcery and witchcraft, but the doctors Faiselow and Artetius, as well as Boyle, defended him with great energy, while testifying to the reality of his cures.
One of the best authenticated, though isolated, cases of this class is the recovery of a niece of Blaise Pascal, a girl eleven years old. She was at boarding-school at the famous Port Royal and suffered of a terrible fistula in the eye, which had caused her great pain for three years and threatened to destroy the bones of her face. When her physicians proposed to her to undergo a very painful operation by means of a red-hot iron, some Jansenists suggested that she should first be specially prayed for, while at the same time the affected place was touched with a thorn reported to have formed part of the crown of thorns of our Saviour. This was done, and on the following day the swelling and inflammation had disappeared, and the eye recovered. The young girl was officially examined by a commission consisting of the king's own physician, Dr. Felix, and three distinguished surgeons; but they reported that neither art nor nature had accomplished the cure and that it was exclusively to be ascribed to the direct interposition of the Almighty. The young lady lived for twenty-five years longer and never had a return of her affection. Racine described the case at full length, and so did Arnauld and Pascal, all affirming the genuineness of the miraculous cure.
During the latter part of the last century a Father Gassner created a very great sensation in Germany by means of his marvelous cures and occasional exorcisms of evil spirits. He did not employ for the latter purpose the usual ritual of the Catholic Church, but simple imposition of hands and invocation of the Saviour. Nearly all the patients who were brought to him he declared to be under the influence of evil spirits, and divided them into three classes: circumsessi, who were only at times attacked, obsessi, or bewitched, and possessi, who were really possessed. When a sick person was brought to him, he first ordered the evil spirit to show himself and to display all his powers; then he prayed fervently and commanded the demon, in the name of the Saviour, to leave his victim. A plain, unpretending man of nearly fifty years, he appeared dressed in a red stole after the fashion prevailing at that time in his native land, and wore a cross containing a particle of the holy cross suspended from a silver chain around his neck. The patient was placed before him so that the light from the nearest window fell fully upon his features, and the bystanders, who always crowded the room, could easily watch all the proceedings. Frequently, he would put his stole upon the sufferers' head, seize their brow and neck with outstretched hands, and holding them firmly, utter in a low voice a fervent prayer. Then, after having given them his cross to kiss, if they were Catholics, he dismissed them with some plain directions as to treatment and an earnest admonition to remain steadfast in faith. Probably the most trustworthy account of this remarkable man and his truly miraculous cures was published by a learned and eminent physician, a Dr. Schisel, who called upon the priest with the open avowal that he came as a skeptic, to watch his proceedings and examine his method. He became so well convinced of Father Gassner's powers that he placed himself in his hands as a patient, was cured of gout in an aggravated form, and excited the utmost indignation of his professional brethren by candidly avowing his conviction of the sincerity of the priest and the genuineness of his cures.
There was, however, one circumstance connected with the exceptional power of this priest, which was even more striking than his cures. His will was so marvelously energetic and his control over weaker minds so perfect that he could at pleasure cause the pulse of his patients to slacken or to hasten, to make them laugh or cry, sleep or wake, to see visions, and even to have epileptic attacks. As may be expected, the majority of his visitors were women and children, but these were literally helpless instruments in his hands. They not only moved and acted, but even felt and thought as he bade them do, and in many cases they were enabled to speak languages while under his influence of which they were ignorant before and after. At Ratisbon a committee consisting of two physicians and two priests was directed to examine the priest and his cures; a professor of anatomy carefully watched the pulse and the nerves of the patients which were selected at haphazard, and all confirmed the statements made before; while three other professors, who had volunteered to aid in the investigation, concurred with him in the conviction that there was neither collusion nor imposition to be suspected. The priest, who employed no other means but prayer and the invocation of God by the patients, was declared to be acting in good faith, from pure motives, and for the best purposes; his cures were considered genuine. There was, however, in Father Gassner's case also an admixture of objectionable elements which must not be overlooked. The desire for notoriety, which enters largely into all such displays of extraordinary powers, led many persons who were perfectly sound to pretend illness, merely for the purpose of becoming, when cured, objects of public wonder. On the other hand, the good father himself was, no doubt, by his own unexpected success, led to go farther than he would otherwise have done in his simplicity and candor. He formed a complete theory of his own to explain the miracles. According to his view the first cause of all such diseases as had their origin in "possession," were the "principalities, powers, rulers of the darkness of this world, and spiritual wickedness in high places," which the apostle mentions as enemies more formidable than "flesh and blood." (Ephes. vi. 12.) These, he believed, dwelt in the air, and by disturbing the atmosphere with evil intent, produced illness in the system and delusions in the mind. If a number combined, and with the permission of the Almighty poisoned the air to a large extent, contagious diseases followed as a natural consequence. Against these demons or "wiles of the devil" (Ephes. vi. 11), he employed the only means sanctioned by Holy Writ—fervent prayer, and this, of course, could have no effect unless the patient fully shared his faith. This faith, again, he was enabled to awaken and to strengthen by the supreme energy of his will, but of course not in all cases; where his prayer failed to have the desired effect he ascribed the disease to a direct dispensation from on high, and not to the agency of evil spirits, or he declared the patient to be wanting in faith. In like manner he explained relapses as the effects of waning faith. The startling phenomena, however, which he thought it necessary to call forth in his patients, before he attempted their restoration, belong to what must be called the magic of our day. For these symptoms bore no relation to the affection under which they suffered. Persons afflicted with sore wounds, stiffened limbs, or sightless eyes, would, at his bidding, fall into frightful paroxysms, during which the breathing intermitted, the nose became pointed, the eyes insensible to the touch, and the whole body rigid and livid. And yet, when the paroxysm ceased at his word, the patient felt no evil effects, not even fatigue, and all that had happened was generally instantly forgotten. The case created an immense sensation throughout Europe, and the great men of his age took part for or against the poor priest, who was sadly persecuted, and only now and then found a really able advocate, such as Lavater. The heaviest penalty he had to bear was the condemnation of his own Church, which accompanied an order issued by the Emperor Joseph II., peremptorily forbidding all further attempts. The pope, Pius VII., who had directed the whole subject to be examined by the well-known Congregatio SS. Rituum, declared in 1777, upon their report, that the priest's proceedings were heretical and not any longer to be permitted, and ordered the bishop, under whose jurisdiction he lived, to prevent any further exercise of his pretended power. All these decrees of papal councils and these orders of imperial officials could, however, not undo what the poor priest had already accomplished, and history has taught us the relative value of investigations held by biased priests, and those carried out by men of science. We may well doubt the judgment of an authority which once condemned a Galileo, and even now denounces the press as a curse; but we have no right to suspect the opinion of men who, as physicians and scientists, are naturally disposed to reject all claims of supernatural or even exceptional powers.
In more recent times a Prince Hohenlohe in Germany claimed to have performed a number of miraculous cures, beginning with a Princess Schwarzenberg, whom he commanded "in the name of Christ to be well again." Many of his patients, however, were only cured for the moment; when their faith, excited to the utmost, cooled down again, their infirmities returned; still there remain facts enough in his life to establish the marvelous power of his strong will, when brought to bear upon peculiarly receptive imaginations, and aided by earnest prayer. (Kies., Archiv. IX. ii: 311.)
Sporadic cases of similar powers have of late shown themselves in Paris, in the interior of Russia, and in Ravenna, but the evidence upon which the statements in public journals are made is so clearly unreliable that no important result can be hoped for from their investigation. The present is hardly an age of faith, and enough has surely been said to prove that without very great and sincere faith miraculous cures cannot be performed.