Does astrology imply fatal necessity?
John is aware, however, that many astrologers will deny that their science detracts in any way from divine prerogative and power, and will “appear to themselves to excuse their error quite readily” by asserting with Plotinus that God foreknew and consequently foredisposed everything that is to occur, and that the stars are as much under his control as any part of nature.[485] But John will have none of this sort of argument. “These hypotheses of theirs are indeed plausible but nevertheless venom lies under the honey. For they impose on things a certain fatal necessity under the guise of humility and reverence to God, fearing lest his intent should perchance alter, if the outcome of things were not made necessary. Furthermore, they encroach upon the domain of divine majesty, when they lay claim to that science of foreseeing times and seasons, which by the Son’s testimony are reserved to the power of the Father, even to the degree that they were hid from the eyes of those to whom the Son of God revealed whatever He heard from the Father.”[486]
John furthermore contends that divine foreknowledge does not require fatal necessity. For instance, although God knew that Adam would sin, Adam was under no compulsion to do so. God knew that by his guilt Adam would bring death into the world, but no condition of nature impelled him to this; in the beginning man was immortal. At this point John wanders off into a joust at the Stoics and Epicureans, whom he censures as equally in error, since the one subjected all to chance, the other to necessity. It is true, John argues, that I know a stone will fall to earth if I hurl it skywards, but it “does not act under necessity, for it might fall or not.” But that it does fall, “though not necessary, is true.” John presently recognizes that he has given away his previous argument against astrology and that the devotee of the stars will say that he does not care whether his predictions are necessary or not provided they are true. “‘Nor does it make any difference to me,’ says the devotee of the stars, ‘whether the affair in question might be otherwise, provided I am not doubtful that it will be (as I think.)’”[487]
John’s lame conclusion.
John accordingly resorts to other arguments and to facetious sarcasm to cover his confusion. Then he recovers sufficiently to reiterate his belief that God frequently interferes in the operation of nature by special providences; and asserts that God has been known to change His mind, while the astrologers assert that the stars are constant in their influences. Expressing doubt, however, whether Thomas Becket will be convinced by his arguments, especially the one concerning fate and Providence, or whether he will not laugh up his sleeve at such a clumsy attempt to refute so formidable a doctrine, John lamely concludes by citing Augustine and Gregory against the art, and by affirming that every astrologer whom he has known has come to some bad end,[488] in which assertion he probably simply echoes Tertullian.
Other varieties of magic.
Resuming his discussion of the varieties of magic John briefly dismisses necromancers with the bon mot that those deserve death who try to acquire knowledge from the dead.[489] A number of other terms in Isidore’s list—auspices, augurs, salissatores, arioli, pythonici, aruspices—he says it is needless to discuss further since these arts are no longer practiced in his day, or at least not openly. Turning to more living superstitions of the present, he explains that chiromancy professes to discern truths which lie hidden in the wrinkles of the hands, but that since there is no apparent reason for this belief it is not necessary to contravert it.
Thomas Becket’s consultation of diviners.
John wishes to ask Thomas one thing, however, and that is what triflers of this sort say when they are interrogated concerning uncertain future matters. He knows that Becket is familiar with such men because on the occasion of a recent royal expedition against Brittany he consulted both an aruspex and a chiromancer. John notes that a few days afterwards Thomas “lost without warning the morning-star so to speak of your race,” and warns him that such men by their vanity deserve to be consulted no more. This gentle rebuke did not avail, however, to wean Thomas entirely from his practice of consulting diviners, which he continued to do even after he became Archbishop of Canterbury. In a letter written to the future martyr and saint in 1170 John again chides Thomas for having delayed certain important letters because he had been “deluded by soothsayings which were not of the Spirit” and exhorts him “So let us renounce soothsayings in the future.”[490]
Witch of Endor: exorcisms.