PREFACE.
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
PREFACE.
The
main purpose of our existence on earth—aside from the sacred and
paramount duty of securing our salvation—is undoubtedly to make
ourselves masters of the tangible world around us, as it stands
revealed to our senses, and as it was expressly made subject to our
will by the Creator. We are, however, at the same time, not left
without information about the existence of certain laws and the
occurrence of certain phenomena, which belong to a world not
accessible to us by means of our ordinary senses, and which yet
affect seriously our intercourse with Nature and our personal
welfare. This knowledge we obtain sometimes, by special favor, as
direct revelation, and at other times, for reasons as yet unknown, at
the expense of our health and much suffering. By whatever means it
may reach us, it cannot be rejected; to treat it with ridicule or to
decline examining it, would be as unwise as unprofitable. The least
that we can do is to ascertain the precise nature of these laws, and,
after stripping these phenomena of all that can be proved to be
merely incidental or delusive, to compare them with each other, and
to arrange them carefully according to some standard of
classification. The main interest in such a task lies in the
discovery of the grain of truth which is often found concealed in a
mass of rubbish, and which, when thus brought to light, serves to
enlarge our knowledge and to increase our power. The difficulty lies
in the absence of all scientific investigation, and in the innate
tendency of man to give way, wantonly or unconsciously, to mental as
well as to sensual delusion.The
aim of this little work is, therefore, limited to the gathering of
such facts and phenomena as may serve to throw light upon the nature
of the magic powers with which man is undoubtedly endowed. Its end
will be attained if it succeeds in showing that he actually does
possess powers which are not subject to the general laws of nature,
but more or less independent of space and time, and which yet make
themselves known partly by appeals to the ordinary senses and partly
by peculiar phenomena, the result of their activity. These higher
powers, operating exclusively through the spirit of man, are part of
his nature, which has much in common with that of the Deity, since he
was created by God "in His own image," and the Lord
"breathed into his nostrils the breath of life and man became a
living soul."
This soul is not, as materialists maintain, merely the sum of all
perceptions obtained by the collective activity of bodily organs—a
conclusion which would finally make it the product of mere material
atoms, subject to constant physical and chemical changes. Even if it
were possible—which we deny—to reduce our whole inner life,
including memory, imagination, and reason, to a system of purely
physical laws, and thus to admit its destruction at the moment of
death, there would still remain the
living soul, coming
directly from the Most High, and destined to continue throughout
eternity. This soul is, hence, independent of time. Nor is it bound
by space, except so far as it can commune with the outer world only
by means of the body, with which it is united in this life. The
nature of this union is a mystery as yet unfathomed, but precisely
because it is such a mystery, we have no right to assume that it is
altogether indissoluble during life; or, that it ceases entirely at
the moment of death. There is, on the contrary, overwhelming evidence
that the soul may, at times, act independently of the body, and the
forces developed on such occasions we have, for the sake of
convenience rather than on account of the special fitness of the
term, preferred to call
magic powers.There
is no evidence whatever before us as to the mutual relations of soul
and body after death. Here, necessarily, all must be mere
speculation. Nothing more, therefore, will be claimed for the
following suggestions. When the body becomes unfit to serve any
longer as an abode and an instrument to the soul, the tie which was
formed before or at the moment of birth is gradually loosened. The
soul no longer receives impressions from the outer world such as the
body heretofore conveyed to it, and with this cessation of mutual
action ends, also, the community of sensation. The living soul—in
all probability—becomes conscious of its separation from the dead
body and from the world; it continues to exist, but in loneliness and
self-dependence. Its life, however, becomes only the more active and
the more self-conscious as it is no longer consumed by intercourse
with the world, nor disturbed by bodily disorders and infirmities.
The soul recalls with ease all long-forgotten or much-dimmed
sensations. What it feels most deeply at first is, we may presume,
the double grief at being separated from the body, with which it has
so long been closely connected, and at the sins it has committed
during life. This repentance will be naturally all the heartier, as
it is no longer interrupted by sensual impressions. After a while
this grief, like all sorrows, begins to moderate, and the soul
returns to a state of peace: sooner, of course, in the case of
persons who in their earthly life already had secured peace by the
only means revealed to man; later, by those who had given themselves
entirely up to the world and their passions. At the same time the
living soul enters into communion with other souls, retaining,
however, its individuality in sex, character, and temper, and,
possibly, proceeds on a course of gradual purification, till it
reaches the desired haven in perfect reconciliation with God. During
this intermediate time there is nothing known to us which would
absolutely forbid the idea that these living souls continue to
maintain some kind of intercourse with the souls of men on earth,
with whom they share all that constitutes their essential nature,
save only the one fact of bondage to the body. Nor is there any
reason why the soul in man should not be able, by its higher powers,
to perceive and to consort with souls detached from mortal bodies,
although this intercourse must needs be limited and imperfect because
of the vast difference between a free soul and one bound to an
earthly, sinful body. For man, when he dies, leaves behind in this
world the body, dead and powerless, a corpse. He continues, however,
to live, a soul, with all the peculiar powers which make up our
spiritual organism; that is to say, the true man, in the higher sense
of the word, exists still, though he dwell in another world. This
soul has now no longer earthly organs of sense to do its bidding, but
it still controls nature which was made subject to its will; it has,
moreover, a new set of powers which represent in the higher world its
higher body, and the character of its new active life will be all the
more elevated, as these organs are more spiritual. Man cannot but
continue to develop, to grow, and to ripen, in the next world as he
did in this; his nature and his destiny are alike incompatible with
sudden transitions and with absolute rest. The soul must become purer
and more useful; its organs more subtle and more powerful, and it is
of this life of gradual improvement and purification that we may
occasionally obtain glimpses by that communion which no doubt still
exists between earth-bound souls and souls freed from such bondage.There
are, it is well known, many theologians who sternly deny any such
further development of man's spiritual part, and insist upon looking
at this life as the only time of probation accorded to him, at the
end of which immediate and eternal judgment is rendered. Their views
are entitled to the utmost consideration and respect. But different
opinions are entertained by some of their brethren, not less eminent
in piety, profound learning, and critical acumen, and hence at least
equally deserving of being attentively listened to and carefully
regarded. So it is also with the belief in the possibility of holding
intercourse with disembodied spirits. Superficial observers are ready
to doubt or to deny, to sneer haughtily, or to scoff contemptuously.
But men of great eminence have, from time immemorial, treated the
question with great attention and deep interest. Melanchthon wrote:
"I have myself seen ghosts, and know many trustworthy people who
affirm that they have not only seen them, but even carried on
conversations with them" (De Anima Recogn.: Wittemb. 1595, p.
317), and Luther said nearly the same; Calvin and Knox also expressed
similar convictions. A faith which has lasted through all ages of
man's history, and has such supporters, cannot but have some
foundation, and deserves full investigation. Alchemy, with its
visionary hopes, contained, nevertheless, the germ of modern
chemistry, and astrology taught already much that constitutes the
astronomy of our day. The same is, no doubt, the case with Modern
Magic, and here, also, we may safely expect to find that "out of
darkness cometh light."
I.
WITCHCRAFT.
"Witchcraft
is an illegitimate miracle; a miracle is legitimate
witchcraft."—Jacob
Boehme.
Perhaps
in no direction has the human mind ever shown greater weakness than
in the opinions entertained of witchcraft. If Hecate, the oldest
patroness of witches, wandered about at night with a gruesome
following, and frightened lovers at their stealthy meeting, or lonely
wanderers on open heaths and in dark forests, her appearance was at
least in keeping with the whole system of Greek mythology. Tacitus
does not frighten us by telling us that witches used to meet at salt
springs (Ann. xiii. 57), nor the Edda when speaking of the "bearers
of witches' kettles," against whom even the Salic Law warns all
good Christians. But when the Council of Ancyra, in the fifth
century, fulminates its edicts against women riding at night upon
weird animals in company with Diana and Herodias, the strange
combination of names and the dread penalties threatened, make us
almost think of witches as of real and most marvelous beings. And
when wise councillors of French Parliaments and gray dignitaries of
the Holy German Empire sit in judgment over a handful of poor old
women, when great English bishops and zealous New England divines
condemn little children to death, because they have made pacts with
the Devil, attended his sabbaths, and bewitched their peaceful
neighbors—then we stand amazed at the delusions, to which the
wisest and best among us are liable.
Christianity,
it is true, shed for a time such a bright light over the earth, that
the works of darkness were abhorred and the power of the Evil One
seemed to be broken, according to the sacred promises that the seed
of woman should bruise the serpent's head. Thus Charlemagne, in his
fierce edict issued after the defeat of the Saxons, ordered that
death should be inflicted on all who after pagan manner gave way to
devilish delusions, and believed that men or women could be witches,
persecuted and killed them; or, even went so far as to consume their
flesh and give it to others for like purposes! But almost at the same
time the belief in the Devil, distinctly maintained in Holy Writ,
spread far and wide, and as early as the fourth century diseases were
ascribed not to organic causes, but to demoniac influences, and the
Devil was once more seen bodily walking to and fro on the earth,
accompanied by a host of smaller demons. It was but rarely that a
truly enlightened man dared to combat the universal superstition.
Thus Agobard, archbishop of Lyons, shines like a bright star on the
dark sky of the ninth century by his open denunciation of all belief
in possession, in the control of the weather or the decision of
difficulties by ordeal. For like reasons we ought to revere the
memory of John of Salisbury, who in the twelfth century declared the
stories of nightly assemblies of witches, with all their attending
circumstances, to be mere delusions of poor women and simple men, who
fancied they saw bodily what existed only in their imagination. The
Church hesitated, now requiring her children to believe in a Devil
and demons, and now denouncing all faith in supernatural beings. The
thirteenth century, by Leibnitz called the darkest of all, developed
the worship of the Evil One to its fullest perfection; the writings
of St. Augustine were quoted as confirming the fact that demons and
men could and did intermarry, and the Djinns of the East were
mentioned as spirits who "sought the daughters of men for
wives." The first trace of a witches' dance is found in the
records of a fearful Auto-da-fè held in Toulouse in the year 1353,
and about a century later the Dominican monk, Jaquier, published the
first complete work on witches and witchcraft. He represented them as
organised—after the prevailing fashion of the day—in a regular
guild, with apprentices, companions, and masters, who practised a
special art for a definite purpose. It is certainly most remarkable
that the same opinion, in all its details, has been entertained in
this century even, and by one of the most famous German philosophers,
Eschenmayer. While the zeal and madness of devil-worshippers were
growing on one side, persecution became more violent and cruel on the
other side, till the trials of witches assumed gigantic proportions
and the proceedings were carried on according to a regular method.
These trials originated, invariably, with theologians, and although
the system was not begun by the Papal government it obtained soon the
Pope's legal sanction by the famous bull of Innocent VIII.,
