Thaumaturgia; Or, Elucidations of the Marvellous

by Oxonian

An eclipse of the moon put the army of Alexander the Great into such a consternation, some days before the battle of Arbela, that the soldiers, under the impression that heaven was against them, were very reluctant to advance; and their devotion turning to downright disobedience, Alexander commanded the Egyptian astrologers, who were the deepest versed in the mystery of the stars, to give their opinions of this eclipse in the presence of all the officers of his army. Without giving themselves much trouble to explain the physical cause which it was their interest to conceal from the people, the wise men declared that the sun was on the side of the Grecians, and the moon for the Persians; and that this planet was never in an eclipse, but it threatened them with some mighty disaster: of this they quoted several ancient examples among the kings of Persia, who, after an eclipse, had always found their gods unpropitious in the day of battle. "Nothing," says Quintus Curtius,[125] "is so effectual as superstition for keeping the vulgar under. Be they ever so unruly and inconstant, if once their minds are possessed with the vain visions of religion, they are all obedience to the soothsayer, whatever becomes of the general." The answer of the Egyptian astrologers being circulated among the soldiers, restored their confidence and their courage.

On another occasion Alexander, just before he passed the river Granicus, observing the circumstance of time, which was the month Desius, reckoned unfortunate to the Macedonians from all antiquity, it made the soldiers melancholy; he immediately ordered this dangerous month to be called by the name of that which preceded it, well knowing what power and influence vain religious scruples have over little and ignorant minds. He sent private orders to Aristander his chief soothsayer, just offering up a sacrifice for a happy passage, to write on the liver of the victim with a liquor prepared for that purpose, that the gods had "granted the victory to Alexander." The notice of this miracle filled the men with invincible ardour; and now they rent the air with acclamations, exclaiming that the day was their own, since the gods had vouchsafed them such plain demonstrations of their favour. The history, indeed, of this mighty conqueror, affords more such examples of artifice, though he always affected to conquer by mere dint of bravery. But what is still more extraordinary, this very hero, who palmed so often such tricks upon others, was himself caught in his turn, as being well as exceedingly superstitious by fits. We say nothing of Themistocles,[126] who, in the war between Xerxes and the Athenians, despairing to prevail upon his countrymen by force of reasoning to quit their city, and betake themselves to sea, set all the engines of religion to work; forged oracles, and procured the priests to circulate among the people, that Minerva had fled from Athens, and had taken the way which led to the port. Philip of Macedon, whose talent lay in conquering his enemies by good intelligence, purchased at any price, had as many oracles at command as he pleased; and hence Demosthenes justly suspecting too good an understanding between Philip and the Delphian priestess, rallied her with so much acrimony upon her partiality to that prince. It is equally obvious how the same reasons of state, which kept up the popular superstition for other prodigies, should take care to encourage it with regard to comets and other celestial appearances.

Panegyrists have also done their parts to promote the superstition of presages, as well as the flattering of poets and orators. When a hero is to be found and extolled, they exclaim, that all nature adores him; that she exerts her utmost powers to serve him; that she mourns at his misfortunes, promises him long before hand to the world; and when the world, by its sins, is unworthy to possess him longer, heaven, which calls him home, hangs out new lights, etc. With this hyperbole M. Balzac regaled Cardinal Richelieu, adding, that to form such a minister, universal nature was on the stretch; God gives him first by promise, and makes him the expectation of ages. For this he was attacked by the critics, but he defended himself; alleging, that other panegyrics had gone some notes higher: he, for example, among the ancients, who said of certain great souls that all the orders of heaven were called together to fancy a fine destiny for them, and that illustrious nation who wrote that the eternal mind was wrapt in deep contemplation, and big with the vast design, when it conceived such a genius as Cardinal Hippolito d'Este. Why could not this same writer have thought of one example more, such as that of the priest who told the Emperor Constantine that divine Providence, not content with qualifying him for the empire of the world, had formed virtues in his soul, which should entitle him to reign in heaven with his only son. Thus have flatterers seized the most surprising natural effects to enhance their hero's glory, and make their court to great men. The poets of the time of Augustus vied with each other in persuading the world that the murder of Julius Caesar was the cause of all the prodigies that followed. Horace, for instance, in one of his odes, attempts to prove that the overflowings of rivers were reckoned among bad presages; and pretends that the Tiber had not committed all those ravages, but in complaisance to his wife Ilia, who was bent on the death of his kinsman Caesar; and that all the other calamities which subsequently afflicted or threatened the Roman empire, were the consequences of his assassination. If Virgil may be credited,[127] the sun was so troubled at the death of Caesar that it went into deep mourning, and so obscured his beams, that the world was alarmed lest it never should appear again. In the mean time, no sooner was the comet observed, which followed this murder, than another set of flatterers pretended that it was Caesar's soul received into the order of the Gods; and they dedicated a temple[128] to the comet, and set up the image of Caesar with a star on his forehead.

It appears from the sermons of the ancient fathers, that the Christians of that time believed they gave great relief to the moon in an eclipse, by raising hideous shouts to the skies, which they imagined recovered her out of her fainting fit, and without which she must inevitably have expired. St. Ambrose, the author of the 215th sermon de tempore, bound up with those of St. Austin, and St. Eloy, Bishop of Noyon, declaim particularly against this abuse. It appears also from the Homilies of St. Chrysostom, St. Basil, St. Austin, and others, that the Christians of their days drew several kinds of presages from persons sneezing at critical times; from meeting a cat, a dog, or an ill-looking (squinting) woman, a maiden, one blind of an eye, or a cripple; on being caught by the cloak on stepping out of a door, or from a sudden catch in one's joint or limb.

St. Eloy tells his people plainly, that whoever pays attention to what he meets at his first going out or coming in, or to any particular voice, or to the chirping of a bird, is so far a Pagan. Indeed, all these, and innumerable others of the same description of superstitious among Christians, are remnants of ancient paganism; as they have been denounced by the censures of popes, provincial councils, synodical decrees, and other grave authorities. And, though there were not such a cloud of witnesses, there would be no difficulty in proving the disease of pagan origin. For, independent of those who preached the gospel of our Saviour, having never promulgated such notions, we learn from several ancient authorities, that the Gentiles had all these superstitions in the highest regard. It was one general opinion among them, that the eclipses of the moon were the consequence of certain magic words by which sorcerers could wrench her from the skies, and drag her near enough the earth to cast a frothy spittle on their herbs—one of the principal ingredients in their incantations. To rescue the moon from the supposed torture she was in, and to frustrate the charm, it was necessary to prevent her from hearing the magic words, by drowning in noise and hideous outcries, for which purpose the people used to assemble during an eclipse of the moon with rough music, such as frying pans, brazen vessels, old tin kettles, etc. According to Pietro della Voile, the Persians keep up the same ridiculous ceremony to this day. It is likewise, according to Tavernier, observed in the kingdom of Tunquin, where they imagine the moon to be, at that time, struggling with a dragon. It is to the same source that we owe the imaginary raging heat of the dog-star—the pretended presages of several evils ascribed to eclipses, and all the allusions of astrology.

In a treatise written by Abogard, Bishop of Lyons, in 833, composed to undeceive a world of people, who were persuaded that there were enchanters who could command thunder, and hail, and tempest, to destroy the fruits of the earth; and that they drove a great trade by this mystery with the people of a certain country called Magonia, who came once a year, sailing in large fleets through the air, to freight with the blighted corn, for which they paid down ready money to the enchanters. So little was this matter doubted, that one day the bishop had enough to do to save three men and a woman from being stoned to death, the people insisting they had just fallen overboard from one of these aërial ships.

We do not here examine whether, in those days, the people literally were more superstitious and credulous than in the days of paganism. It is enough to say, that they were of very easy belief; and hence men began to write their histories in the style of romance, mixing up a thousand fables with the deeds of great men, such as Roland, nephew to Charlemagne; which so suited the taste of the age, that no book would afterwards go down in any other style—witness, for instance, the Manual of Devotions by James de Voragine, archbishop of Genoa, composed towards the latter end of the thirteenth century; and in which Melchior Canus, a learned Spanish bishop, is so scandalized in his eleventh book of Common Places. Another doctor of divinity,[129] speaking of the depraved state of the times, says, "It was the error, or rather folly, of some of the ancients, to think, that in writing the actions of illustrious men, the style must sink, unless they mixed up with it the ornaments, for so they called them, of poetical fiction, or something of this sort; and, consequently, thus blended truth with fable." This being the prevailing fashion of the times, we are inclined to believe, that in the histories of the crusades, many apocryphal subjects are introduced, which ought, consequently, to be read cum grano salis. This is decidedly the opinion of Pere Maimbourg,[130] who, after the relation of the battle of Iconium, won by Frederick of Barbarossa, 1190, says, "What was chiefly wonderful after this battle, was the conqueror's sustaining little or no loss, which most people ascribed to the particular protection of St. Victor and St. George, names oftenest invoked in the Christian army, which many of them said they saw engaging at the head of the squadrons. Whether in reality there might be something in it extraordinary, which has often happened, as the Scriptures inform us; or whether, by often hearing of celestial squadrons appearing at the battle of Antioch in the first crusade, warm imaginations possessed with the belief, and penetrated with these ideas, formed new apparitions of their own, but sure it is, that one Louie Helfenstein, a gentleman of reputation, and far from a visionary, affirmed to the emperor, on his oath, and on the vow of a pilgrim devoted to the holy sepulchre and the crusade, that he often saw St. George charge at the head of the squadrons, and put the enemy to flight; which was afterwards confirmed by the Turks themselves, owning that they saw some troops in white charge in the first ranks in the Christian army, though there were really none of that livery. No one, I know, is bound (continues P. Maimbourg) to believe visions of this kind, subject for the most part to notorious illusion: but I know too, that an historian is not of his own authority, to reject them, especially when supported by such remarkable testimony.

"And though he be at liberty to believe or not, yet he has no regret, by suppressing them, to deprive the reader of his liberty, when he meets with passages of this kind, of judging as he thinks fit." This reflection (says Bayle) from so celebrated an historian, not suspected of favouring the Hugonot incredulity, is a strong presumption on my side.

The abuse of presentiments has been carried to the very Scriptures. We are told, that the manner of Tamerlane giving his blessing to his two sons, by bowing down the head of the elder, and chucking the youngest under the chin, was a presage of the elevation of the latter in prejudice to the former, was grounded on the 48th chapter of Genesis, where Jacob is represented laying his right hand on the head of the younger, forseeing by inspiration that he would be the greater of the two. Meanwhile there is a difference between the two benedictions. The Tartar, wholly destitute of the knowledge of future events, did not diversify the motion of his hands, on purpose to establish a presage; and God never vouchsafing this knowledge to infidels, did not guide his hands in a particular manner to form a presage of what should befal his children;—whereas Jacob, on the contrary, filled with the spirit of prophecy, whereby he saw the fortunes of his children, directed his words and actions according to this knowledge; by which means both became presages.

Presages, presentiments, and prodigies, might be multiplied ad infinitum. Whoever reads the Roman historians will be surprised at their number, and which frequently filled the people with the most dreadful apprehensions. It must be confessed, that some of these seem altogether supernatural; while much the greater part only consist of some of the uncommon productions of nature, which superstition always attributed to a superior cause, and represented as the prognostications of some impending misfortunes. Of this class may be reckoned the appearance of two suns;[131] the nights illuminated by rays of light; the views of fighting armies; swords and spears darting through the air; showers of milk, of blood, of stones, of ashes, or of fire; and the birth of monsters, of children, or of beasts who had two heads; or of infants who had some feature resembling those of the brute creation. These were all dreadful prodigies which filled the people with inexpressible astonishment, and the whole Roman empire with an extreme perplexity; and whatever unhappy event followed, repentance was sure to be either caused or predicted by them.