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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31420-0.txt b/31420-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..81ddc8a --- /dev/null +++ b/31420-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10956 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of La Sorcière: The Witch of the Middle Ages, by +Jules Michelet + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: La Sorcière: The Witch of the Middle Ages + +Author: Jules Michelet + +Translator: Lionel James Trotter + +Release Date: February 27, 2010 [EBook #31420] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA SORCIÈRE *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + +LA SORCIÈRE. + +J. MICHELET. + +LONDON: +PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER, +ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET. + + + + +THE WITCH OF THE MIDDLE AGES. + +FROM THE FRENCH OF J. MICHELET. + +BY L. J. TROTTER. + + +(_The only Authorized English Translation._) + + +LONDON: +SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO., +STATIONERS’ HALL COURT. +MDCCCLXIII. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +In this translation of a work rich in the raciest beauties and defects +of an author long since made known to the British public, the present +writer has striven to recast the trenchant humour, the scornful +eloquence, the epigrammatic dash of Mr. Michelet, in language not all +unworthy of such a word-master. How far he has succeeded others may be +left to judge. In one point only is he aware of having been less true +to his original than in theory he was bound to be. He has slurred or +slightly altered a few of those passages which French readers take as +a thing of course, but English ones, because of their different +training, are supposed to eschew. A Frenchman, in short, writes for +men, an Englishman rather for drawing-room ladies, who tolerate +grossness only in the theatres and the columns of the newspapers. Mr. +Michelet’s subject, and his late researches, lead him into details, +moral and physical, which among ourselves are seldom mixed up with +themes of general talk. The coarsest of these have been pruned away, +but enough perhaps remain to startle readers of especial prudery. The +translator, however, felt that he had no choice between shocking +these and sinning against his original. Readers of a larger culture +will make allowance for such a strait, will not be so very frightened +at an amount of plain-speaking, neither in itself immoral, nor, on the +whole, impertinent. Had he docked his work of everything condemned by +prudish theories, he might have made it more conventionally decent; +but Michelet would have been puzzled to recognize himself in the poor +maimed cripple that would then have borne his name. + +Nor will a reader of average shrewdness mistake the religious drift of +a book suppressed by the Imperial underlings in the interests neither +of religion nor of morals, but merely of Popery in its most outrageous +form. If its attacks on Rome seem, now and then, to involve +Christianity itself, we must allow something for excess of warmth, and +something for the nature of inquiries which laid bare the rotten +outgrowths of a religion in itself the purest known among men. In +studying the so-called Ages of Faith, the author has only found them +worthy of their truer and older title, the Ages of Darkness. It is +against the tyranny, feudal and priestly, of those days, that he +raises an outcry, warranted almost always by facts which a more +mawkish philosophy refuses to see. If he is sometimes hasty and +onesided; if the Church and the Feudal System of those days had their +uses for the time being; it is still a gain to have the other side of +the subject kept before us by way of counterpoise to the doctrines +now in vogue. We need not be intolerant; but Rome is yet alive. + +Taken as a whole, Mr. Michelet’s book cannot be called unchristian. +Like most thoughtful minds of the day, he yearns for some nobler and +larger creed than that of the theologians; for a creed which, +understanding Nature, shall reconcile it with Nature’s God. Nor may he +fairly be called irreverent for talking, Frenchman like, of things +spiritual with the same freedom as he would of things temporal. +Perhaps in his heart of hearts he has nearly as much religious +earnestness as they who call Dr. Colenso an infidel, and shake their +heads at the doubtful theology of Frederic Robertson. At any rate, no +translator who should cut or file away so special a feature of French +feeling would be doing justice to so marked an original. + +For English readers who already know the concise and sober volumes of +their countryman, Mr. Wright, the present work will offer mainly an +interesting study of the author himself. It is a curious compound of +rhapsody and sound reason, of history and romance, of coarse realism +and touching poetry, such as, even in France, few save Mr. Michelet +could have produced. Founded on truth and close inquiry, it still +reads more like a poem than a sober history. As a beautiful +speculation, which has nearly, but not quite, grasped the physical +causes underlying the whole history of magic and illusion in all ages, +it may be read with profit as well as pleasure in this age of vulgar +spirit-rapping. But the true history of Witchcraft has yet to be +written by some cooler hand. + + L. T. + + _May 11th, 1863._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + +INTRODUCTION 1 + To One Wizard Ten Thousand Witches 1 + The Witch was the sole Physician of the People 4 + Terrorism of the Middle Ages 5 + The Witch was the Offspring of Despair 9 + She in her Turn created Satan 12 + Satan, Prince of the World, Physician, Innovator 13 + His School--of Witches, Shepherds, and Headsmen 15 + His Decline 16 + + +BOOK I. + +CHAPTER I.--THE DEATH OF THE GODS 19 + Christianity thought the World was Dying 20 + The World of Demons 24 + The Bride of Corinth 26 + +CHAPTER II.--WHY THE MIDDLE AGES FELL INTO DESPAIR 30 + The People make their own Legends 31 + But are forbidden to do so any more 35 + The People guard their Territory 38 + But are made Serfs 40 + +CHAPTER III.--THE LITTLE DEVIL OF THE FIRESIDE 43 + Ancient Communism of the _Villa_ 43 + The Hearth made independent 44 + The Wife of the Serf 45 + Her Loyalty to the Olden Gods 46 + The Goblin 53 + +CHAPTER IV.--TEMPTATIONS 57 + The Serf invokes the Spirit of Hidden Treasures 58 + Feudal Raids 59 + The Wife turns her Goblin into a Devil 66 + +CHAPTER V.--POSSESSION 69 + The Advent of Gold in 1300 69 + The Woman makes Terms with the Demon of Gold 71 + Impure Horrors of the Middle Ages 75 + The Village Lady 78 + Hatred of the Lady of the Castle 84 + +CHAPTER VI.--THE COVENANT 88 + The Woman-serf gives Herself up to the Devil 90 + The Moor and the Witch 93 + +CHAPTER VII.--THE KING OF THE DEAD 96 + The dear Dead are brought back to Earth 97 + The Idea of Satan is softened 103 + +CHAPTER VIII.--THE PRINCE OF NATURE 106 + The Thaw in the Middle Ages 108 + The Witch calls forth the East 109 + She conceives Nature 112 + +CHAPTER IX.--THE DEVIL A PHYSICIAN 116 + Diseases of the Middle Ages 116 + The _Comforters_, or Solaneæ 121 + The Middle Ages anti-natural 128 + +CHAPTER X.--CHARMS AND PHILTRES 131 + Blue-Beard and Griselda 133 + The Witch consulted by the Castle 137 + Her Malice 141 + +CHAPTER XI.--THE REBELS’ COMMUNION--SABBATHS--THE BLACK MASS 143 + The old Half-heathen Sabasies 144 + The Four Acts of the Black Mass 150 + Act I. The Introit, the Kiss, the Banquet 151 + Act II. The Offering: the Woman as Altar and Host 153 + +CHAPTER XII.--THE SEQUEL--LOVE AND DEATH--SATAN DISAPPEARS 157 + Act III. Love of near Kindred 158 + Act IV. Death of Satan and the Witch 165 + + +BOOK II. + +CHAPTER I.--THE WITCH IN HER DECLINE--SATAN MULTIPLIED AND MADE + COMMON 168 + Witches and Wizards employed by the Great 172 + The Wolf-lady 174 + The last Philtre 179 + +CHAPTER II.--PERSECUTIONS 180 + The Hammer for Witches 181 + Satan Master of the World 193 + +CHAPTER III.--CENTURY OF TOLERATION IN FRANCE: REACTION 198 + Spain begins when France stops short 199 + Reaction: French Lawyers burn as many as the Priests 203 + +CHAPTER IV.--THE WITCHES OF THE BASQUE COUNTRY 207 + They give Instructions to their own Judges 212 + +CHAPTER V.--SATAN TURNS PRIEST 218 + Jokes of the Modern Sabbath 221 + +CHAPTER VI.--GAUFFRIDI: 1610 228 + Wizard Priests prosecuted by Monks 232 + Jealousies of the Nuns 234 + +CHAPTER VII.--THE DEMONIACS OF LOUDUN: URBAN GRANDIER 255 + The Vicar a fine Speaker, and a Wizard 263 + Sickly Rages of the Nuns 264 + +CHAPTER VIII.--THE DEMONIACS OF LOUVIERS--MADELINE BAVENT 277 + Illuminism: the Devil a Quietist 277 + Fight between the Devil and the Doctor 285 + +CHAPTER IX.--THE DEVIL TRIUMPHS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 294 + +CHAPTER X.--FATHER GIRARD AND LA CADIÈRE 303 + +CHAPTER XI.--CADIÈRE IN THE CONVENT 339 + +CHAPTER XII.--TRIAL OF CADIÈRE 367 + +EPILOGUE 395 + Can Satan and Jesus be reconciled? 396 + The Witch is dead, but the Fairy will live again 399 + Oncoming of the Religious Revival 399 + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +It was said by Sprenger, before the year 1500, “_Heresy of witches_, +not of wizards, must we call it, for these latter are of very small +account.” And by another, in the time of Louis XIII.: “To one wizard, +ten thousand witches.” + +“Witches they are by nature.” It is a gift peculiar to woman and her +temperament. By birth a fay, by the regular recurrence of her ecstasy +she becomes a sibyl. By her love she grows into an enchantress. By her +subtlety, by a roguishness often whimsical and beneficent, she becomes +a Witch; she works her spells; does at any rate lull our pains to rest +and beguile them. + +All primitive races have the same beginning, as so many books of +travel have shown. While the man is hunting and fighting, the woman +works with her wits, with her imagination: she brings forth dreams and +gods. On certain days she becomes a seeress, borne on boundless wings +of reverie and desire. The better to reckon up the seasons, she +watches the sky; but her heart belongs to earth none the less. Young +and flower-like herself, she looks down toward the enamoured flowers, +and forms with them a personal acquaintance. As a woman, she beseeches +them to heal the objects of her love. + +In a way so simple and touching do all religion and all science begin. +Ere long everything will get parcelled out; we shall mark the +beginning of the professional man as juggler, astrologer, or prophet, +necromancer, priest, physician. But at first the woman is everything. + +A religion so strong and hearty as that of Pagan Greece begins with +the Sibyl to end in the Witch. The former, a lovely maiden in the +broad daylight, rocked its cradle, endowed it with a charm and glory +of its own. Presently it fell sick, lost itself in the darkness of the +Middle Ages, and was hidden away by the Witch in woods and wilds: +there, sustained by her compassionate daring, it was made to live +anew. Thus, of every religion woman is the mother, the gentle +guardian, the faithful nurse. With her the gods fare like men: they +are born and die upon her bosom. + + * * * * * + +Alas! her loyalty costs her dear. Ye magian queens of Persia; +bewitching Circe; sublime Sibyl! Into what have ye grown, and how +cruel the change that has come upon you! She who from her throne in +the East taught men the virtues of plants and the courses of the +stars; who, on her Delphic tripod beamed over with the god of light, +as she gave forth her oracle to a world upon its knees;--she also it +is whom, a thousand years later, people hunt down like a wild beast; +following her into the public places, where she is dishonoured, +worried, stoned, or set upon the burning coals! + +For this poor wretch the priesthood can never have done with their +faggots, nor the people with their insults, nor the children with +their stones. The poet, childlike, flings her one more stone, for a +woman the cruellest of all. On no grounds whatever, he imagines her to +have been always old and ugly. The word “witch” brings before us the +frightful old women of _Macbeth_. But their cruel processes teach us +the reverse of that. Numbers perished precisely for being young and +beautiful. + +The Sibyl foretold a fortune, the Witch accomplishes one. Here is the +great, the true difference between them. The latter calls forth a +destiny, conjures it, works it out. Unlike the Cassandra of old, who +awaited mournfully the future she foresaw so well, this woman herself +creates the future. Even more than Circe, than Medea, does she bear in +her hand the rod of natural miracle, with Nature herself as sister and +helpmate. Already she wears the features of a modern Prometheus. With +her industry begins, especially that queen-like industry which heals +and restores mankind. As the Sibyl seemed to gaze upon the morning, so +she, contrariwise, looks towards the west; but it is just that gloomy +west, which long before dawn--as happens among the tops of the +Alps--gives forth a flush anticipant of day. + +Well does the priest discern the danger, the bane, the alarming +rivalry, involved in this priestess of nature whom he makes a show of +despising. From the gods of yore she has conceived other gods. Close +to the Satan of the Past we see dawning within her a Satan of the +Future. + + * * * * * + +The only physician of the people for a thousand years was the Witch. +The emperors, kings, popes, and richer barons had indeed their doctors +of Salerno, their Moors and Jews; but the bulk of people in every +state, the world as it might well be called, consulted none but the +_Saga_, or wise-woman. When she could not cure them, she was insulted, +was called a Witch. But generally, from a respect not unmixed with +fear, she was called good lady or fair lady (_belle dame_--_bella +donna_[1]), the very name we give to the fairies. + + [1] Whence our old word _Beldam_, the more courteous meaning + of which is all but lost in its ironical one.--TRANS. + +Soon there came upon her the lot which still befalls her favourite +plant, belladonna, and some other wholesome poisons which she employed +as antidotes to the great plagues of the Middle Ages. Children and +ignorant passers-by would curse those dismal flowers before they knew +them. Affrighted by their questionable hues, they shrink back, keep +far aloof from them. And yet among them are the _comforters_ +(Solaneæ) which, when discreetly employed, have cured so many, have +lulled so many sufferings to sleep. + +You find them in ill-looking spots, growing all lonely and ill-famed +amidst ruins and rubbish-heaps. Therein lies one other point of +resemblance between these flowers and her who makes use of them. For +where else than in waste wildernesses could live the poor wretch whom +all men thus evilly entreated; the woman accursed and proscribed as a +poisoner, even while she used to heal and save; as the betrothed of +the Devil and of evil incarnate, for all the good which, according to +the great physician of the Renaissance, she herself had done? When +Paracelsus, at Basle, in 1527, threw all medicine into the fire,[2] he +avowed that he knew nothing but what he had learnt from witches. + + [2] Alluding to the bonfire which Paracelsus, as professor of + medicine, made of the works of Galen and Avicenna.--TRANS. + +This was worth a requital, and they got it. They were repaid with +tortures, with the stake. For them new punishments, new pangs, were +expressly devised. They were tried in a lump; they were condemned by a +single word. Never had there been such wastefulness of human life. Not +to speak of Spain, that classic land of the faggot, where Moor and Jew +are always accompanied by the Witch, there were burnt at Trèves seven +thousand, and I know not how many at Toulouse; five hundred at Geneva +in three months of 1513; at Wurtzburg eight hundred, almost in one +batch, and fifteen hundred at Bamberg; these two latter being very +small bishoprics! Even Ferdinand II., the savage Emperor of the Thirty +Years’ War, was driven, bigot as he was, to keep a watch on these +worthy bishops, else they would have burned all their subjects. In the +Wurtzburg list I find one Wizard a schoolboy, eleven years old; a +Witch of fifteen: and at Bayonne two, infernally beautiful, of +seventeen years. + +Mark how, at certain seasons, hatred wields this one word _Witch_, as +a means of murdering whom she will. Woman’s jealousy, man’s greed, +take ready hold of so handy a weapon. Is such a one wealthy? _She is a +Witch._ Is that girl pretty? _She is a Witch._ You will even see the +little beggar-woman, La Murgui, leave a death-mark with that fearful +stone on the forehead of a great lady, the too beautiful dame of +Lancinena. + +The accused, when they can, avert the torture by killing themselves. +Remy, that excellent judge of Lorraine, who burned some eight hundred +of them, crows over this very fear. “So well,” said he, “does my way +of justice answer, that of those who were arrested the other day, +sixteen, without further waiting, strangled themselves forthwith.” + + * * * * * + +Over the long track of my History, during the thirty years which I +have devoted to it, this frightful literature of witchcraft passed to +and fro repeatedly through my hands. First I exhausted the manuals of +the Inquisition, the asinine foolings of the Dominicans. (_Scourges_, +_Hammers_, _Ant-hills_, _Floggings_, _Lanterns_, &c., are the titles +of their books.) Next, I read the Parliamentarists, the lay judges who +despised the monks they succeeded, but were every whit as foolish +themselves. One word further would I say of them here: namely, this +single remark, that, from 1300 to 1600, and yet later, but one kind of +justice may be seen. Barring a small interlude in the Parliament of +Paris, the same stupid savagery prevails everywhere, at all hours. +Even great parts are of no use here. As soon as witchcraft comes into +question, the fine-natured De Lancre, a Bordeaux magistrate and +forward politician under Henry IV., sinks back to the level of a +Nider, a Sprenger; of the monkish ninnies of the fifteenth century. + +It fills one with amazement to see these different ages, these men of +diverse culture, fail in taking the least step forward. Soon, however, +you begin clearly to understand how all were checked alike, or let us +rather say blinded, made hopelessly drunk and savage, by the poison of +their guiding principle. That principle lies in the statement of a +radical injustice: “On account of one man all are lost; are not only +punished but worthy of punishment; _depraved and perverted +beforehand_, dead to God even before their birth. The very babe at the +breast is damned.” + +Who says so? Everyone, even Bossuet himself. A leading doctor in Rome, +Spina, a Master of the Holy Palace, formulates the question neatly: +“Why does God suffer the innocent to die?--For very good reasons: +even if they do not die on account of their own sins, they are always +liable to death as guilty of the original sin.” (_De Strigibus_, ch. +9.) + +From this atrocity spring two results, the one pertaining to justice, +the other to logic. The judge is never at fault in his work: the +person brought before him is certainly guilty, the more so if he makes +a defence. Justice need never beat her head, or work herself into a +heat, in order to distinguish the truth from the falsehood. Everyhow +she starts from a foregone conclusion. Again, the logician, the +schoolman, has only to analyse the soul, to take count of the shades +it passes through, of its manifold nature, its inward strifes and +battles. He had no need, as we have, to explain how that soul may grow +wicked step by step. At all such niceties and groping efforts, how, if +even he could understand them, would he laugh and wag his head! And, +oh! how gracefully then would quiver those splendid ears which deck +his empty skull! + +Especially in treating of the _compact with the Devil_, that awful +covenant whereby, for the poor profit of one day, the spirit sells +itself to everlasting torture, we of another school would seek to +trace anew that road accursed, that frightful staircase of mishaps and +crimes, which had brought it to a depth so low. Much, however, cares +our fine fellow for all that! To him soul and Devil seem born for each +other, insomuch that on the first temptation, for a whim, a desire, a +passing fancy, the soul will throw itself at one stroke into so +horrible an extremity. + + * * * * * + +Neither do I find that the moderns have made much inquiry into the +moral chronology of witchcraft. They cling too much to the connection +between antiquity and the Middle Ages; connection real indeed, but +slight, of small importance. Neither from the magician of old, nor the +seeress of Celts and Germans, comes forth the true Witch. The harmless +“Sabasies” (from Bacchus Sabasius), and the petty rural “Sabbath” of +the Middle Ages, have nothing to do with the Black Mass of the +fourteenth century, with the grand defiance then solemnly given to +Jesus. This fearful conception never grew out of a long chain of +tradition. It leapt forth from the horrors of the day. + +At what date, then, did the Witch first appear? I say unfalteringly, +“In the age of despair:” of that deep despair which the gentry of the +Church engendered. Unfalteringly do I say, “The Witch is a crime of +their own achieving.” + +I am not to be taken up short by the excuses which their sugary +explanations seem to furnish. “Weak was that creature, and giddy, and +pliable under temptation. She was drawn towards evil by her lust.” +Alas! in the wretchedness, the hunger of those days, nothing of that +kind could have ruffled her even into a hellish rage. An amorous +woman, jealous and forsaken, a child hunted out by her step-mother, a +mother beaten by her son (old subjects these of story), if such as +they were ever tempted to call upon the Evil Spirit, yet all this +would make no Witch. These poor creatures may have called on Satan, +but it does not follow that he accepted them. They are still far, ay, +very far from being ripe for him. They have not yet learned to hate +God. + + * * * * * + +For the better understanding of this point, you should read those +hateful registers which remain to us of the Inquisition, not only in +the extracts given by Llorente, by Lamothe-Langon, &c., but in what +remains of the original registers of Toulouse. Read them in all their +flatness, in all their dryness, so dismal, so terribly savage. At the +end of a few pages you feel yourself stricken with a chill; a cruel +shiver fastens upon you; death, death, death, is traceable in every +line. Already you are in a bier, or else in a stone cell with mouldy +walls. Happiest of all are the killed. The horror of horrors is the +_In pace_. This phrase it is which comes back unceasingly, like an +ill-omened bell sounding again and again the heart’s ruin of the +living dead: always we have the same word, “Immured.” + +Frightful machinery for crushing and flattening; most cruel press for +shattering the soul! One turn of the screw follows another, until, all +breathless, and with a loud crack, it has burst forth from the machine +and fallen into the unknown world. + +On her first appearance the Witch has neither father nor mother, nor +son, nor husband, nor family. She is a marvel, an aerolith, alighted +no one knows whence. Who, in Heaven’s name, would dare to draw near +her? + +Her place of abode? It is in spots impracticable, in a forest of +brambles, on a wild moor where thorn and thistle intertwining forbid +approach. The night she passes under an old cromlech. If anyone finds +her there, she is isolated by the common dread; she is surrounded, as +it were, by a ring of fire. + +And yet--would you believe it?--she is a woman still. This very life +of hers, dreadful though it be, tightens and braces her woman’s +energy, her womanly electricity. Hence, you may see her endowed with +two gifts. One is the _inspiration of lucid frenzy_, which in its +several degrees, becomes poesy, second-sight, depth of insight, +cunning simplicity of speech, the power especially of believing in +yourself through all your delusions. Of such a gift the man, the +wizard, knows nothing. On his side no beginning would have been made. + +From this gift flows that other, the sublime power of _unaided +conception_, that parthenogenesis which our physiologists have come to +recognise, as touching fruitfulness of the body in the females of +several species; and which is not less a truth with regard to the +conceptions of the spirit. + + * * * * * + +By herself did she conceive and bring forth--what? A second self, who +resembles her in his self-delusions. The son of her hatred, conceived +upon her love; for without love can nothing be created. For all the +alarm this child gave her, she has become so well again, is so happily +engrossed with this new idol, that she places it straightway upon her +altar, to worship it, yield her life up to it, and offer herself up as +a living and perfect sacrifice. Very often she will even say to her +judge, “There is but one thing I fear; that I shall not suffer enough +for him.”--(_Lancre._) + +Shall I tell you what the child’s first effort was? It was a fearful +burst of laughter. Has he not cause for mirth on his broad prairie, +far away from the Spanish dungeons and the “immured” of Toulouse? The +whole world is his _In pace_. He comes, and goes, and walks to and +fro. His is the boundless forest, his the desert with its far +horizons, his the whole earth, in the fulness of its teeming girdle. +The Witch in her tenderness calls him “_Robin mine_,” the name of that +bold outlaw, the joyous Robin Hood, who lived under the green bowers. +She delights too in calling him fondly by such names as _Little +Green_, _Pretty-Wood_, _Greenwood_; after the little madcap’s +favourite haunts. He had hardly seen a thicket when he took to playing +the truant.[3] + + [3] Here, as in some other passages, the play of words in the + original is necessarily lost.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +What astounds one most is, that at one stroke the Witch should have +achieved an actual Being. He bears about him every token of reality. +We have heard and seen him; anyone could draw his likeness. + +The Saints, those darling sons of the house, with their dreams and +meditations make but little stir; _they look forward waitingly_, as +men assured of their part in Elysium. What little energy they have is +all centred in the narrow round of _Imitation_; a word which condenses +the whole of the Middle Ages. He on the other hand--this accursed +bastard whose only lot is the scourge--has no idea of waiting. He is +always seeking and will never rest. He busies himself with all things +between earth and heaven. He is exceedingly curious; will dig, dive, +ferret, and poke his nose everywhere. At the _consummatum est_ he only +laughs, the little scoffer! He is always saying “Further,” or +“Forward.” Moreover, he is not hard to please. He takes every rebuff; +picks up every windfall. For instance, when the Church throws out +nature as impure and doubtworthy, Satan fastens on her for his own +adornment. Nay, more; he employs her, and makes her useful to him as +the fountain-head of the arts; thus accepting the awful name with +which others would brand him; to wit, the _Prince of the World_. + +Some one rashly said, “Woe to those who laugh.” Thus from the first +was Satan intrusted with too pretty a part; he had the sole right of +laughing, and of declaring it an _amusement_--rather let us say _a +necessity_; for laughing is essentially a natural function. Life +would be unbearable if we could not laugh, at least in our +afflictions. + +Looking on life as nothing but a trial, the Church is careful not to +prolong it. Her medicine is resignation, the looking for and the hope +of death. A broad field this for Satan! He becomes the physician, the +healer of the living. Better still, he acts as comforter: he is good +enough to shew us our dead, to call up the shades of our beloved. + +One more trifle the Church rejected, namely, logic or free reason. +Here was a special dainty, to which _the other_ greedily helped +himself. The Church had carefully builded up a small _In pace_, +narrow, low-roofed, lighted by one dim opening, a mere cranny. That +was called _The School_. Into it were turned loose a few shavelings, +with this commandment, “Be free.” They all fell lame. In three or four +centuries the paralysis was confirmed, and Ockham’s standpoint is the +very same as Abélard’s.[4] + + [4] Abélard flourished in the twelfth, William of Ockham + (pupil of Duns Scotus) in the fourteenth century.--TRANS. + +It is pleasant to track the Renaissance up to such a point. The +Renaissance took place indeed, but how? Through the Satanic daring of +those who pierced the vault, through the efforts of the damned who +were bent on seeing the sky. And it took place yet more largely away +from the schools and the men of letters, in the _School of the Bush_, +where Satan had set up a class for the Witch and the shepherd. + +Perilous teaching it was, if so it happened; but the very dangers of +it heightened the eager passion, the uncontrollable yearning to see +and to know. Thus began those wicked sciences, physic debarred from +poisoning, and that odious anatomy. There, along with his survey of +the heavens, the shepherd who kept watch upon the stars applied also +his shameful nostrums, made his essays upon the bodies of animals. The +Witch would bring out a corpse stolen from the neighbouring cemetery; +and, for the first time, at risk of being burned, you might gaze upon +that heavenly wonder, “which men”--as M. Serres has well said--“are +foolish enough to bury, instead of trying to understand.” + +Paracelsus, the only doctor whom Satan admitted there, saw yet a third +worker, who, stealing at times into that dark assembly, displayed +there his surgical art. This was the surgeon of those happy days, the +headsman stout of hand, who could play patly enough with the fire, +could break bones and set them again; who if he killed, would +sometimes save, by hanging one only for a certain time. + +By the more sacrilegious of its essays this convict university of +witches, shepherds, and headsmen, emboldened the other, obliged its +rival to study. For everyone wanted to live. The Witch would have got +hold of everything: people would for ever have turned their backs on +the doctor. And so the Church was fain to suffer, to countenance these +crimes. She avowed her belief in _good poisons_ (Grillandus). She +found herself driven and constrained to allow of public dissections. +In 1306 one woman, in 1315 another, was opened and dissected by the +Italian Mondino. Here was a holy revelation, the discovery of a +greater world than that of Christopher Columbus! Fools shuddered or +howled; but wise men fell upon their knees. + + * * * * * + +With such conquests the Devil was like enough to live on. Never could +the Church alone have put an end to him. The stake itself was useless, +save for some political objects. + +Men had presently the wit to cleave Satan’s realm in twain. Against +the Witch, his daughter, his bride, they armed his son, the doctor. +Heartily, utterly as the Church loathed the latter, yet to extinguish +the Witch, she established his monopoly nevertheless. In the +fourteenth century she proclaimed, that any woman who dared to heal +others _without having duly studied_, was a witch and should therefore +die. + +But how was she to study in public? Fancy what a scene of mingled fun +and horror would have occurred, if the poor savage had risked an +entrance into the schools! What games and merry-makings there would +have been! On Midsummer Day they used to chain cats together and burn +them in the fire. But to tie up a Witch in that hell of caterwaulers, +a Witch yelling and roasting, what fun it would have been for that +precious crew of monklings and cowlbearers! + +In due time we shall see the decline of Satan. Sad to tell, we shall +find him pacified, turned into _a good old fellow_. He will be robbed +and plundered, until of the two masks he wore at the Sabbath, the +dirtiest is taken by Tartuffe. His spirit is still everywhere, but of +his bodily self, in losing the Witch he lost all. The wizards were +only wearisome. + +Now that we have hurled him so far downwards, are we fully aware of +what has happened? Was he not an important actor, an essential item in +the great religious machine just now slightly out of gear? All +organisms that work properly are twofold, twosided. Life can otherwise +not go on at all. It is a kind of balance between two forces, +opposite, symmetrical, but unequal; the lower answering to the other +as its counterpoise. The higher chafes at it, seeks to put it down. So +doing, it is all wrong. + +When Colbert, in 1672, got rid of Satan, with very little ceremony, by +forbidding the judges to entertain pleas of witchcraft, the sturdy +Parliament of Normandy with its sound Norman logic pointed out the +dangerous drift of such a decision. The Devil is nothing less than a +dogma holding on to all the rest. If you meddle with the Eternally +Conquered, are you not meddling with the Conqueror likewise? To doubt +the acts of the former, leads to doubting the acts of the second, the +miracles he wrought for the very purpose of withstanding the Devil. +The pillars of heaven are grounded in the Abyss. He who thoughtlessly +removes that base infernal, may chance to split up Paradise itself. + +Colbert could not listen, having other business to mind. But the Devil +perhaps gave heed and was comforted. Amidst such minor means of +earning a livelihood as spirit-rapping or table-turning, he grows +resigned, and believes at least that he will not die alone. + + + + +BOOK I. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE DEATH OF THE GODS. + + +Certain authors have declared that, shortly before the triumph of +Christianity, a voice mysterious ran along the shores of the Ægean +Sea, crying, “Great Pan is dead!” The old universal god of nature was +no more; and great was the joy thereat. Men fancied that with the +death of nature temptation itself was dead. After the troublings of so +long a storm, the soul of man was at length to find rest. + +Was it merely a question touching the end of that old worship, its +overthrow, and the eclipse of old religious rites? By no means. +Consult the earliest Christian records, and in every line you may read +the hope, that nature is about to vanish, life to be extinguished; +that the end of the world, in short, is very near. It is all over with +the gods of life, who have spun out its mockeries to such a length. +Everything is falling, breaking up, rushing down headlong. The whole +is becoming as nought: “Great Pan is dead!” + +It was nothing new that the gods must perish. Many an ancient worship +was grounded in that very idea. Osiris, Adonis die indeed in order to +rise again. On the stage itself, in plays which were only acted for +the feast days of the gods, Æschylus expressly averred by the mouth of +Prometheus, that some day they should suffer death: but how? As +conquered and laid low by the Titans, the ancient powers of nature. + +Here, however, things are quite otherwise. Alike in generals and +particulars, in the past and the future, would the early Christians +have cursed Nature herself. So utterly did they condemn her, as to +find the Devil incarnate in a flower. Swiftly may the angels come +again, who erst overwhelmed the cities of the Dead Sea! Oh, that they +may sweep off, may crumple up as a veil the hollow frame of this +world; may at length deliver the saints from their long trial! + +The Evangelist said, “The day is coming:” the Fathers, “It is coming +immediately.” From the breaking-up of the Empire and the invasion of +the Barbarians, St. Augustin draws the hope that very soon no city +would remain but the city of God. + +And yet, how hard of dying is the world; how stubbornly bent on +living! Like Hezekiah, it begs a respite, one turn more of the dial. +Well, then, be it so until the year one thousand. But thereafter, not +one day. + + * * * * * + +Are we quite sure of what has been so often repeated, that the gods of +old had come to an end, themselves wearied and sickened of living; +that they were so disheartened as almost to send in their resignation; +that Christianity had only to blow upon these empty shades? + +They point to the gods in Rome; they point out those in the Capitol, +admitted there only by a kind of preliminary death, on the surrender, +I might say, of all their local pith; as having disowned their +country, as having ceased to be the representative spirits of the +nations. In order to receive them, indeed, Rome had performed on them +a cruel operation: they were enervated, bleached. Those great +centralized deities became in their official life the mournful +functionaries of the Roman Empire. But the decline of that Olympian +aristocracy had in no wise drawn down the host of home-born gods, the +mob of deities still keeping hold of the boundless country-sides, of +the woods, the hills, the fountains; still intimately blended with the +life of the country. These gods abiding in the heart of oaks, in +waters deep and rushing, could not be driven therefrom. + +Who says so? The Church. She rudely gainsays her own words. Having +proclaimed their death, she is indignant because they live. Time after +time, by the threatening voice of her councils[5] she gives them +notice of their death--and lo! they are living still. + + [5] See Mansi, Baluze; Council of Arles, 442; of Tours, 567; + of Leptines, 743; the Capitularies, &c., and even Gerson, + about 1400. + +“They are devils.”--Then they must be alive. Failing to make an end of +them, men suffer the simple folk to clothe, to disguise them. By the +help of legends they come to be baptized, even to be foisted upon the +Church. But at least they are converted? Not yet. We catch them +stealthily subsisting in their own heathen character. + +Where are they? In the desert, on the moor, in the forest? Ay; but, +above all, in the house. They are kept up by the most intimate +household usages. The wife guards and hides them in her household +things, even in her bed. With her they have the best place in the +world, better than the temple,--the fireside. + + * * * * * + +Never was revolution so violent as that of Theodosius. Antiquity shows +no trace of such proscription of any worship. The Persian +fire-worshipper might, in the purity of his heroism, have insulted the +visible deities, but he let them stand nevertheless. He greatly +favoured the Jews, protecting and employing them. Greece, daughter of +the light, made merry with the gods of darkness, the tunbellied +Cabiri; but yet she bore with them, adopted them as workmen, even to +shaping out of them her own Vulcan. Rome in her majesty welcomed not +only Etruria, but even the rural gods of the old Italian labourer. She +persecuted the Druids, but only as the centre of a dangerous national +resistance. + +Christianity conquering sought and thought to slay the foe. It +demolished the schools, by proscribing logic and uprooting the +philosophers, whom Valens slaughtered. It razed or emptied the +temples, shivered to pieces the symbols. The new legend would have +been propitious to the family, had the father not been cancelled in +Saint Joseph; had the mother been set up as an educatress, as having +morally brought forth Jesus. A fruitful road there was, but abandoned +at the very outset through the effort to attain a high but barren +purity. + +So Christianity turned into that lonely path where the world was going +of itself; the path of a celibacy in vain opposed by the laws of the +emperors. Down this slope it was hurled headlong by the establishment +of monkery. + +But in the desert was man alone? The Devil kept him company with all +manner of temptations. He could not help himself, he was driven to +create anew societies, nay whole cities of anchorites. We all know +those dismal towns of monks which grew up in the Thebaid; how wild, +unruly a spirit dwelt among them; how deadly were their descents on +Alexandria. They talked of being troubled, beset by the Devil; and +they told no lie. + +A huge gap was made in the world; and who was to fill it? The +Christians said, The Devil, everywhere the Devil: _ubique dæmon_.[6] + + [6] See the Lives of the Desert Fathers, and the authors + quoted by A. Maurie, _Magie_, 317. In the fourth century, the + Messalians, thinking themselves full of devils, spat and blew + their noses without ceasing; made incredible efforts to spit + them forth. + +Greece, like all other nations, had her _energumens_, who were sore +tried, possessed by spirits. The relation there is quite external; the +seeming likeness is really none at all. Here we have no spirits of any +kind: they are but black children of the Abyss, the ideal of +waywardness. Thenceforth we see them everywhere, those poor +melancholics, loathing, shuddering at their own selves. Think what it +must be to fancy yourself double, to believe in that _other_, that +cruel host who goes and comes and wanders within you, making you roam +at his pleasure among deserts, over precipices! You waste and weaken +more and more; and the weaker grows your wretched body, the more is it +worried by the devil. In woman especially these tyrants dwell, making +her blown and swollen. They fill her with an infernal _wind_, they +brew in her storms and tempests, play with her as the whim seizes +them, drive her to wickedness, to despair. + +And not ourselves only, but all nature, alas! becomes demoniac. If +there is a devil in the flower, how much more in the gloomy forest! +The light we think so pure teems with children of the night. The +heavens themselves--O blasphemy!--are full of hell. That divine +morning star, whose glorious beams not seldom lightened a Socrates, an +Archimedes, a Plato, what is it now become? A devil, the archfiend +Lucifer. In the eventime again it is the devil Venus who draws me into +temptation by her light so soft and mild. + +That such a society should wax wroth and terrible is not surprising. +Indignant at feeling itself so weak against devils, it persecutes them +everywhere, in the temples, at the altars once of the ancient worship, +then of the heathen martyrs. Let there be more feasts?--they will +likely be so many gatherings of idolaters. The Family itself becomes +suspected: for custom might bring it together round the ancient Lares. +And why should there be a family?--the empire is an empire of monks. + +But the individual man himself, thus dumb and isolated though he be, +still watches the sky, still honours his ancient gods whom he finds +anew in the stars. “This is he,” said the Emperor Theodosius, “who +causes famines and all the plagues of the empire.” Those terrible +words turned the blind rage of the people loose upon the harmless +Pagan. Blindly the law unchained all its furies against the law. + +Ye gods of Eld, depart into your tombs! Get ye extinguished, gods of +Love, of Life, of Light! Put on the monk’s cowl. Maidens, become nuns. +Wives, forsake your husbands; or, if ye will look after the house, be +unto them but cold sisters. + +But is all this possible? What man’s breath shall be strong enough to +put out at one effort the burning lamp of God? These rash endeavours +of an impious piety may evoke miracles strange and monstrous. Tremble, +guilty that ye are! + +Often in the Middle Ages will recur the mournful tale of the Bride of +Corinth. Told at a happy moment by Phlegon, Adrian’s freedman, it +meets us again in the twelfth, and yet again in the sixteenth century, +as the deep reproof, the invincible protest of nature herself. + + * * * * * + +“A young man of Athens went to Corinth, to the house of one who had +promised him his daughter. Himself being still a heathen, he knew not +that the family which he thought to enter had just turned Christian. +It is very late when he arrives. They are all gone to rest, except the +mother, who serves up for him the hospitable repast and then leaves +him to sleep. Dead tired, he drops down. Scarce was he fallen asleep, +when a figure entered the room: ’tis a girl all clothed and veiled in +white; on her forehead a fillet of black and gold. She sees him. In +amazement she lifts her white hand: ‘Am I, then, such a stranger in +the house already? Alas, poor recluse!... But I am ashamed, and +withdraw. Sleep on.’ + +“‘Stay, fair maiden! Here are Bacchus, Ceres, and with thee comes +Love. Fear not, look not so pale!’ + +“‘Ah! Away from me, young man! I have nothing more to do with +happiness. By a vow my mother made in her sickness my youth and my +life are bound for ever. The gods have fled, and human victims now are +our only sacrifices.’ + +“‘Ha! can it be thou, thou, my darling betrothed, who wast given me +from my childhood? The oath of our fathers bound us for evermore under +the blessing of heaven. Maiden, be mine!’ + +“‘No, my friend, not I. Thou shalt have my younger sister. If I moan +in my chilly dungeon, do thou in her arms think of me, of me wasting +away and thinking only of thee; of me whom the earth is about to cover +again.’ + +“‘Nay, I swear by this flame, the torch of Hymen, thou shalt come home +with me to my father. Rest thee, my own beloved.’ + +“As a wedding-gift he offers her a cup of gold. She gives him her +chain, but instead of the cup desires a curl of his hair. + +“It is the hour of spirits; her pale lip drinks up the dark blood-red +wine. He too drinks greedily after her. He calls on the god of Love. +She still resisted, though her poor heart was dying thereat. But he +grows desperate, and falls weeping on the couch. Anon she throws +herself by his side. + +“‘Oh! how ill thy sorrow makes me! Yet, if thou wast to touch me---- +Oh, horror!--white as the snow, and cold as ice, such, ah me! is thy +bride.’ + +“‘I will warm thee again: come to me, wert thou come from the very +grave.’ + +“Sighs and kisses many do they exchange. + +“‘Dost thou feel how warm I am?’ + +“Love twines and holds them fast. Tears mingle with their joy. She +changes with the fire she drinks from his mouth: her icy blood is +aglow with passion; but the heart in her bosom will not beat. + +“But the mother was there listening. Soft vows, cries of wailing and +of pleasure. + +“‘Hush, the cock is crowing: to-morrow night!’ Then with kiss on kiss +they say farewell. + +“In wrath the mother enters; sees what? Her daughter. He would have +hidden her, covered her up. But freeing herself from him, she grew +from the couch up to the roof. + +“‘O mother, mother, you grudge me a pleasant night; you would drive me +from this cosy spot! Was it not enough to have wrapped me in my +winding-sheet and borne me to the grave? A greater power has lifted up +the stone. In vain did your priests drone over the trench they dug for +me. Of what use are salt and water, where burns the fire of youth? The +earth cannot freeze up love. You made a promise; I have just reclaimed +my own. + +“‘Alas, dear friend, thou must die: thou wouldst but pine and dry up +here. I have thy hair; it will be white to-morrow.... Mother, one last +prayer! Open my dark dungeon, set up a stake, and let the loving one +find rest in the flames. Let the sparks fly upward and the ashes +redden. We will go to our olden gods.’”[7] + + [7] Here I have suppressed a shocking phrase. Goethe, so + noble in the form, is not so in the spirit of his poem. He + spoils the marvel of the legend by sullying the Greek + conception with a horrible Slavish idea. As they are weeping, + he turns the maiden into a vampire. She comes because she + thirsts for blood, that she may suck the blood from his + heart. And he makes her coldly say this impious and unclean + thing: “When I have done with him, I will pass on to others: + the young blood shall fall a prey to my fury.” + + In the Middle Ages this story put on a grotesque garb, by way + of frightening us with the _Devil Venus_. On the finger of + her statue a young man imprudently places a ring, which she + clasps tight, guarding it like a bride, and going in the + night to his couch, to assert her rights. He cannot rid + himself of his infernal spouse without an exorcism. The same + tale, foolishly applied to the Virgin, is found in the + _Fabliaux_. If my memory does not mislead me, Luther also, in + his “Table Talk,” takes up the old story in a very coarse + way, till you quite smell the body. The Spanish Del Rio + shifts the scene of it to Brabant. The bride dies shortly + before her marriage; the death-bells are rung. The bridegroom + rushed wildly over the country. He hears a wail. It is she + herself wandering about the heath. “Seest thou not”--she + says--“who leads me?” But he catches her up and bears her + home. At this point the story threatened to become too + moving; but the hard inquisitor, Del Rio, cuts the thread. + “On lifting her veil,” says he, “they found only a log of + wood covered with the skin of a corpse.” The Judge le Loyer, + silly though he be, has restored the older version. + + Thenceforth these gloomy taletellers come to an end. The + story is useless when our own age begins; for then the bride + has triumphed. Nature comes back from the grave, not by + stealth, but as mistress of the house. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +WHY THE MIDDLE AGES FELL INTO DESPAIR. + + +“Be ye as newborn babes (_quasi modo geniti infantes_); be thoroughly +childlike in the innocence of your hearts; peaceful, forgetting all +disputes, calmly resting under the hand of Christ.” Such is the kindly +counsel tendered by the Church to this stormy world on the morning +after the great fall. In other words: “Volcanoes, ruins, ashes, and +lava, become green. Ye parched plains, get covered with flowers.” + +One thing indeed gave promise of the peace that reneweth: the schools +were all shut up, the way of logic forsaken. A method infinitely +simple for the doing away with argument, offered all men a gentle +slope, down which they had nothing to do but go. If the creed was +doubtful, the life was all traced out in the pathway of the legend. +From first to last but the one word _Imitation_. + +“Imitate, and all will go well. Rehearse and copy.” But is this the +way to that true childhood which quickens the heart of man, which +leads back to its fresh and fruitful springs? In this world that is to +make us young and childlike, I see at first nothing but the tokens of +age; only cunning, slavishness, want of power. What kind of +literature is this, confronted with the glorious monuments of Greeks +and Jews? We have just the same literary fall as happened in India +from Brahminism to Buddhism; a twaddling flow of words after a noble +inspiration. Books copy from books, churches from churches, until they +cannot so much as copy. They pillage from each other: Aix-la-Chapelle +is adorned with the marbles torn from Ravenna. It is the same with all +the social life of those days. The bishop-king of a city, the savage +king of a tribe, alike copy the Roman magistrates. Original as one +might deem them, our monks in their monasteries simply restored their +ancient _Villa_, as Chateaubriand well said. They had no notion either +of forming a new society or of fertilizing the old. Copying from the +monks of the East, they wanted their servants at first to be +themselves a barren race of monkling workmen. It was in spite of them +that the family in renewing itself renewed the world. + +Seeing how fast these oldsters keep on oldening; how in one age we +fall from the wise monk St. Benedict down to the pedantic Benedict of +Aniane;[8] we feel that such gentry were wholly guiltless of that +great popular creation which bloomed amidst ruins; namely, the Lives +of the Saints. If the monks wrote, it was the people made them. This +young growth might throw out some leaves and flowers from the crannies +of an old Roman ruin turned into a convent: but most assuredly not +thence did it first arise. Its roots go deep into the ground: sown by +the people and cultivated by the family, it takes help from every +hand, from men, from women, from children. The precarious, troubled +life of those days of violence, made these poor folk imaginative, +prone to believe in their own dreams, as being to them full of +comfort: strange dreams withal, rich in marvels, in fooleries; absurd, +but charming. + + [8] Benedict founded a convent at Aniane in Languedoc, in the + reign of Charlemagne. + +These families, isolated in forests and mountains, as we still see +them in the Tyrol or the Higher Alps, and coming down thence but once +a week, never wanted for illusions in the desert. One child had seen +this, some woman had dreamed that. A new saint began to rise. The +story went abroad in the shape of a ballad with doggrel rhymes. They +sang and danced to it of an evening at the oak by the fountain. The +priest, when he came on Sunday to perform service in the woodland +chapel, found the legendary chant already in every mouth. He said to +himself, “After all, history is good, is edifying.... It does honour +to the Church. _Vox populi, vox Dei!_--But how did they light upon +it?” He could be shown the true, the irrefragable proofs of it in some +tree or stone which had witnessed the apparition, had marked the +miracle. What can he say to that? + +Brought back to the abbey, the tale will find a monk good for nothing, +who can only write; who is curious, believes everything, no matter +how marvellous. It is written out, broidered with his dull rhetoric, +and spoilt a little. But now it has come forth, confirmed and +consecrated, to be read in the refectory, ere long in the church. +Copied, loaded and overloaded with ornaments chiefly grotesque, it +will go on from age to age, until at last it comes to take high rank +in the Golden Legend. + + * * * * * + +When those fair stories are read again to us in these days, even as we +listen to the simple, grave, artless airs into which those rural +peoples threw all their young heart, we cannot help marking a great +inspiration; and we are moved to pity as we reflect upon their fate. + +They had taken literally the touching advice of the Church: “Be ye as +newborn babes.” But they gave to it a meaning, the very last that one +would dream of finding in the original thought. As much as +Christianity feared and hated Nature, even so much did these others +cherish her, deeming her all guileless, hallowing her even in the +legends wherewith they mingled her up. + +Those _hairy_ animals, as the Bible sharply calls them, animals +mistrusted by the monks who fear to find devils among them, enter in +the most touching way into these beautiful stories; as the hind, for +instance, who refreshes and comforts Geneviève of Brabant. + +Even outside the life of legends, in the common everyday world, the +humble friends of his hearth, the bold helpmates of his work, rise +again in man’s esteem. They have their own laws,[9] their own +festivals. If in God’s unbounded goodness there is room for the +smallest creatures, if He seems to show them a pitying preference, +“Wherefore,” says the countryman, “should my ass not have entered the +church? Doubtless, he has his faults, wherein he only resembles me the +more. He is a rough worker, but has a hard head; is intractable, +stubborn, headstrong; in short, just like myself.” + + [9] See J. Grimm, _Rechts Alterthümer_, and my _Origines du + Droit_. + +Thence come those wonderful feasts, the fairest of the Middle Ages; +feasts of _Innocents_, of _Fools_, of the _Ass_. It is the people +itself, moreover, which, in the shape of an ass, draws about its own +image, presents itself before the altar, ugly, comical, abased. +Verily, a touching sight! Led by Balaam, he enters solemnly between +Virgil and the Sibyl;[10] enters that he may bear witness. If he +kicked of yore against Balaam, it was that before him he beheld the +sword of the ancient law. But here the law is ended, and the world of +grace seems opening its two-leaved gate to the mean and to the simple. +The people innocently believes it all. Thereon comes that lofty hymn, +in which it says to the ass what it might have said to itself:-- + + “Down on knee and say _Amen_! + Grass and hay enough hast eaten. + Leave the bad old ways, and go! + + * * * * * + + For the new expels the old: + Shadows fly before the noon: + Light hath hunted out the night.” + + [10] According to the ritual of Rouen. See Ducange on the + words _Festum_ and _Kalendæ_: also Martène, iii. 110. The + Sibyl was crowned and followed by Jews and Gentiles, by + Moses, the Prophets, Nebuchadnezzar, &c. From a very early + time, and continually from the seventh to the seventeenth + century, the Church strove to proscribe the great people’s + feasts of the Ass, of Innocents, of Children, and of Fools. + It never succeeded until the advent of the modern spirit. + +How bold and coarse ye are! Was it this we asked of you, children rash +and wayward, when we told you to be as children? We offered you milk; +you are drinking wine. We led you softly, bridle in hand, along the +narrow path. Mild and fearful, ye hesitated to go forward: and now, +all at once, the bridle is broken; the course is cleared at a single +bound. Ah! how foolish we were to let you make your own saints; to +dress out the altar; to deck, to burden, to cover it up with flowers! +Why, it is hardly distinguishable! And what we do see is the old +heresy condemned of the Church, _the innocence of nature_: what am I +saying?--a new heresy, not like to end to-morrow, _the independence of +man_. + +Listen and obey!--You are forbidden to invent, to create. No more +legends, no more new saints: we have had enough of them. You are +forbidden to introduce new chants in your worship: inspiration is not +allowed. The martyrs you would bring to light should stay modestly +within their tombs, waiting to be recognised by the Church. The +clergy, the monks are forbidden to grant the tonsure of civil freedom +to husbandmen and serfs. Such is the narrow fearful spirit that fills +the Church of the Carlovingian days.[11] She unsays her words, she +gives herself the lie, she says to the children, “Be old!” + + [11] See the Capitularies, _passim_. + + * * * * * + +A fall indeed! But is this earnest? They had bidden us all be +young.--Ah! but priest and people are no longer one. A divorce without +end begins, a gulf unpassable divides them for ever. The priest +himself, a lord and prince, will come out in his golden cope, and +chant in the royal speech of that great empire which is no more. For +ourselves, a mournful company, bereft of human speech, of the only +speech that God would care to hear, what else can we do but low and +bleat with the guileless friends who never scorn us, who, in +winter-time will keep us warm in their stable, or cover us with their +fleeces? We will live with dumb beasts, and be dumb ourselves. + +In sooth there is less need than before for our going to church. But +the church will not hold us free: she insists on our returning to hear +what we no longer understand. Thenceforth a mighty fog, a fog heavy +and dun as lead, enwraps the world. For how long? For a whole +millennium of horror. Throughout ten centuries, a languor unknown to +all former times seizes upon the Middle Ages, even in part on those +latter days that come midway betwixt sleep and waking, and holds them +under the sway of a visitation most irksome, most unbearable; that +convulsion, namely, of mental weariness, which men call a fit of +yawning. + +When the tireless bell rings at the wonted hours, they yawn; while the +nasal chant is singing in the old Latin words, they yawn. It is all +foreseen, there is nothing to hope for in the world, everything will +come round just the same as before. The certainty of being bored +to-morrow sets one yawning from to-day; and the long vista of +wearisome days, of wearisome years to come, weighs men down, sickens +them from the first with living. From brain to stomach, from stomach +to mouth, the fatal fit spreads of its own accord, and keeps on +distending the jaws without end or remedy. An actual disease the pious +Bretons call it, ascribing it, however, to the malice of the Devil. He +keeps crouching in the woods, the peasants say: if anyone passes by +tending his cattle, he sings to him vespers and other rites, until he +is dead with yawning.[12] + + [12] An illustrious Breton, the last man of the Middle Ages, + who had gone on a bootless errand to convert Rome, received + there some brilliant offers. “What do you want?” said the + Pope.--“Only one thing: to have done with the Breviary.” + + * * * * * + +_To be old_ is to be weak. When the Saracens, when the Norsemen +threaten us, what will come to us if the people remain old? +Charlemagne weeps, and the Church weeps too. She owns that her relics +fail to guard her altars from these Barbarian devils.[13] Had she not +better call upon the arm of that wayward child whom she was going to +bind fast, the arm of that young giant whom she wanted to paralyse? +This movement in two opposite ways fills the whole ninth century. The +people are held back, anon they are hurled forward: we fear them and +we call on them for aid. With them and by means of them we throw up +hasty barriers, defences that may check the Barbarians, while +sheltering the priests and their saints escaped thither from their +churches. + + [13] The famous avowal made by Hincmar. + +In spite of the Bald Emperor’s[14] command not to build, there grows +up a tower on the mountain. Thither comes the fugitive, crying, “In +God’s name, take me in, at least my wife and children! Myself with my +cattle will encamp in your outer enclosure.” The tower emboldens him +and he feels himself a man. It gives him shade, and he in his turn +defends, protects his protector. + + [14] Charles the Bald.--TRANS. + +Formerly in their hunger the small folk yielded themselves to the +great as serfs; but here how great the difference! He offers himself +as a _vassal_, one who would be called brave and valiant.[15] He gives +himself up, and keeps himself, and reserves to himself the right of +going elsewhere. “I will go further: the earth is large: I, too, like +the rest, can rear my tower yonder. If I have defended the outworks, I +can surely look after myself within.” + + [15] A difference too little felt by those who have spoken of + the _personal recommendation_, &c. + +Thus nobly, thus grandly arose the feudal world. The master of the +tower received his vassals with some such words as these: “Thou shalt +go when thou willest, and if need be with my help; at least, if thou +shouldst sink in the mire, I myself will dismount to succour thee.” +These are the very words of the old formula.[16] + + [16] Grimm, _Rechts Alterthümer_, and my _Origines du Droit_. + + * * * * * + +But, one day, what do I see? Can my sight be grown dim? The lord of +the valley, as he rides about, sets up bounds that none may overleap; +ay, and limits that you cannot see. “What is that? I don’t +understand.” That means that the manor is shut in. “The lord keeps it +all fast under gate and hinge, between heaven and earth.” + +Most horrible! By virtue of what law is this _vassus_ (or _valiant_ +one) held to his power? People will thereon have it, that _vassus_ may +also mean _slave_. In like manner the word _servus_, meaning a +_servant_, often indeed a proud one, even a Count or Prince of the +Empire, comes in the case of the weak to signify a _serf_, a wretch +whose life is hardly worth a halfpenny. + +In this damnable net are they caught. But down yonder, on his ground, +is a man who avers that his land is free, a _freehold_, a _fief of the +sun_. Seated on his boundary-stone, with hat pressed firmly down, he +looks at Count or Emperor passing near. “Pass on, Emperor; go thy +ways! If thou art firm on thy horse, yet more am I on my pillar. Thou +mayest pass, but so will not I: for I am Freedom.” + +But I lack courage to say what becomes of this man. The air grows +thick around him: he breathes less and less freely. He seems to be +_under a spell_: he cannot move: he is as one paralysed. His very +beasts grow thin, as if a charm had been thrown over them. His +servants die of hunger. His land bears nothing now; spirits sweep it +clean by night. + +Still he holds on: “The poor man is a king in his own house.” But he +is not to be let alone. He gets summoned, must answer for himself in +the Imperial Court. So he goes, like an old-world spectre, whom no one +knows any more. “What is he?” ask the young. “Ah, he is neither a +lord, nor a serf! Yet even then is he nothing?” + +“Who am I? I am he who built the first tower, he who succoured you, he +who, leaving the tower, went boldly forth to meet the Norse heathens +at the bridge. Yet more, I dammed the river, I tilled the meadow, +creating the land itself by drawing it God-like out of the waters. +From this land who shall drive me?” + +“No, my friend,” says a neighbour--“you shall not be driven away. You +shall till this land, but in a way you little think for. Remember, my +good fellow, how in your youth, some fifty years ago, you were rash +enough to wed my father’s little serf, Jacqueline. Remember the +proverb, ‘He who courts my hen is my cock.’ You belong to my +fowl-yard. Ungird yourself; throw away your sword! From this day forth +you are my serf.” + +There is no invention here. The dreadful tale recurs incessantly +during the Middle Ages. Ah, it was a sharp sword that stabbed him. I +have abridged and suppressed much, for as often as one returns to +these times, the same steel, the same sharp point, pierces right +through the heart. + +There was one among them who, under this gross insult, fell into so +deep a rage that he could not bring up a single word. It was like +Roland betrayed. His blood all rushed upwards into his throat. His +flaming eyes, his mouth so dumb, yet so fearfully eloquent, turned all +the assembly pale. They started back. He was dead: his veins had +burst. His arteries spurted the red blood over the faces of his +murderers.[17] + + [17] This befell the Count of Avesnes when his freehold was + declared a mere fief, himself a mere vassal, a serf of the + Earl of Hainault. Read, too, the dreadful story of the Great + Chancellor of Flanders, the first magistrate of Bruges, who + also was claimed as a serf.--Gualterius, _Scriptores Rerum + Francicarum_, viii. 334. + + * * * * * + +The doubtful state of men’s affairs, the frightfully slippery descent +by which the freeman becomes a vassal, the vassal a servant, and the +servant a serf,--in these things lie the great terror of the Middle +Ages, and the depth of their despair. There is no way of escape +therefrom; for he who takes one step is lost. He is an _alien_, a +_stray_, a _wild beast of the chase_. The ground grows slimy to catch +his feet, roots him, as he passes, to the spot. The contagion in the +air kills him; he becomes a thing _in mortmain_, a dead creature, a +mere nothing, a beast, a soul worth twopence-halfpenny, whose murder +can be atoned for by twopence-halfpenny. + +These are outwardly the two great leading traits in the wretchedness +of the Middle Ages, through which they came to give themselves up to +the Devil. Meanwhile let us look within, and sound the innermost +depths of their moral life. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE LITTLE DEVIL OF THE FIRESIDE. + + +There is an air of dreaming about those earlier centuries of the +Middle Ages, in which the legends were self-conceived. Among +countryfolk so gently submissive, as these legends show them, to the +Church, you would readily suppose that very great innocence might be +found. This is surely the temple of God the Father. And yet the +_penitentiaries_, wherein reference is made to ordinary sins, speak of +strange defilements, of things afterwards rare enough under the rule +of Satan. + +These sprang from two causes, from the utter ignorance of the times, +and from the close intermingling of near kindred under one roof. They +seem to have had but a slight acquaintance with our modern ethics. +Those of their day, all counterpleas notwithstanding, resemble the +ethics of the patriarchs, of that far antiquity which regarded +marriage with a stranger as immoral, and allowed only of marriage +amongst kinsfolk. The families thus joined together became as one. Not +daring to scatter over the surrounding deserts, tilling only the +outskirts of a Merovingian palace or a monastery, they took shelter +every evening under the roof of a large homestead (_villa_). Thence +arose unpleasant points of analogy with the ancient _ergastulum_, +where the slaves of an estate were all crammed together. Many of these +communities lasted through and even beyond the Middle Ages. About the +results of such a system the lord would feel very little concern. To +his eyes but one family was visible in all this tribe, this multitude +of people “who rose and lay down together, ... who ate together of the +same bread, and drank out of the same mug.” + +Amidst such confusion the woman was not much regarded. Her place was +by no means lofty. If the virgin, the ideal woman, rose higher from +age to age, the real woman was held of little worth among these +boorish masses, in this medley of men and herds. Wretched was the doom +of a condition which could only change with the growth of separate +dwellings, when men at length took courage to live apart in hamlets, +or to build them huts in far-off forest-clearings, amidst the fruitful +fields they had gone out to cultivate. From the lonely hearth comes +the true family. It is the nest that forms the bird. Thenceforth they +were no more things, but men; for then also was the woman born. + + * * * * * + +It was a very touching moment, the day she entered _her own home_. +Then at last the poor wretch might become pure and holy. There, as she +sits spinning alone, while her goodman is in the forest, she may brood +on some thought and dream away. Her damp, ill-fastened cabin, through +which keeps whistling the winter wind, is still, by way of a +recompense, calm and silent. In it are sundry dim corners where the +housewife lodges her dreams. + +And by this time she has some property, something of her own. The +_distaff_, the _bed_, and the _trunk_, are all she has, according to +the old song.[18] We may add a table, a seat, perhaps two stools. A +poor dwelling and very bare; but then it is furnished with a living +soul! The fire cheers her, the blessed box-twigs guard her bed, +accompanied now and again by a pretty bunch of vervein. Seated by her +door, the lady of this palace spins and watches some sheep. We are not +yet rich enough to keep a cow; but to that we may come in time, if +Heaven will bless our house. The wood, a bit of pasture, and some bees +about our ground--such is our way of life! But little corn is +cultivated as yet, there being no assurance of a harvest so long of +coming. Such a life, however needy, is anyhow less hard for the woman: +she is not broken down and withered, as she will be in the days of +large farming. And she has more leisure withal. You must never judge +of her by the coarse literature of the Fabliaux and the Christmas +Carols, by the foolish laughter and license of the filthy tales we +have to put up with by and by. She is alone; without a neighbour. The +bad, unwholesome life of the dark, little, walled towns, the mutual +spyings, the wretched dangerous gossipings, have not yet begun. No old +woman comes of an evening, when the narrow street is growing dark, to +tempt the young maiden by saying how for the love of her somebody is +dying. She has no friend but her own reflections; she converses only +with her beasts or the tree in the forest. + + [18] + + “Trois pas du côté du banc, + Et trois pas du côté du lit; + Trois pas du côté du coffre, + Et trois pas---- Revenez ici.” + + (_Old Song of the Dancing Master._) + +Such things speak to her, we know of what. They recall to her mind the +saws once uttered by her mother and grandmother; ancient saws handed +down for ages from woman to woman. They form a harmless reminder of +the old country spirits, a touching family religion which doubtless +had little power in the blustering hurly-burly of a great common +dwellinghouse, but now comes back again to haunt the lonely cabin. + +It is a singular, a delicate world of fays and hobgoblins, made for a +woman’s soul. When the great creation of the saintly Legend gets +stopped and dried up, that other older, more poetic legend comes in +for its share of welcome; reigns privily with gentle sway. It is the +woman’s treasure; she worships and caresses it. The fay, too, is a +woman, a fantastic mirror wherein she sees herself in a fairer guise. + +Who were these fays? Tradition says, that of yore some Gaulish queens, +being proud and fanciful, did on the coming of Christ and His Apostles +behave so insolently as to turn their backs upon them. In Brittany +they were dancing at the moment, and never stopped dancing. Hence +their hard doom; they are condemned to live until the Day of +Judgment.[19] Many of them were turned into mice or rabbits; as the +Kow-riggwans for instance, or Elves, who meeting at night round the +old Druidic stones entangle you in their dances. The same fate befell +the pretty Queen Mab, who made herself a royal chariot out of a +walnut-shell. They are all rather whimsical, and sometimes +ill-humoured. But can we be surprised at them, remembering their +woeful lot? Tiny and odd as they are, they have a heart, a longing to +be loved. They are good and they are bad and full of fancies. On the +birth of a baby they come down the chimney, to endow it and order its +future. They are fond of good spinning-women--they even spin divinely +themselves. Do we not talk of _spinning like a fairy_? + + [19] All passages bearing on this point have been gathered + together in two learned works by M. Maury (_Les Fées_, 1843; + and _La Magie_, 1860). See also Grimm. + +The fairy-tales, stripped of the absurd embellishments in which the +latest compilers muffled them up, express the heart of the people +itself. They mark a poetic interval between the gross communism of the +primitive _villa_, and the looseness of the time when a growing +burgess-class made our cynical Fabliaux.[20] + + [20] A body of tales by the Trouvères of the twelfth and + thirteenth centuries.--TRANS. + +These tales have an historical side, reminding us, in the ogres, &c., +of the great famines. But commonly they soar higher than any history, +on the _Blue Bird’s_ wing, in a realm of eternal poesy; telling us our +wishes which never vary, the unchangeable history of the heart. + +The poor serf’s longing to breathe, to rest, to find a treasure that +may end his sufferings, continually returns. More often, through a +lofty aspiration, this treasure becomes a soul as well, a treasure of +love asleep, as in _The Sleeping Beauty_: but not seldom the charming +person finds herself by some fatal enchantment hidden under a mask. +Hence that touching trilogy, that admirable _crescendo_ of _Riquet +with the Tuft_, _Ass’s Skin_, and _Beauty and the Beast_. Love will +not be discouraged. Through all that ugliness it follows after and +gains the hidden beauty. In the last of these tales that feeling +touches the sublime, and I think that no one has ever read it without +weeping. + +A passion most real, most sincere, lurks beneath it--that unhappy, +hopeless love, which unkind nature often sets between poor souls of +very different ranks in life. On the one hand is the grief of the +peasant maid at not being able to make herself fair enough to win the +cavalier’s fancy; on the other the smothered sighs of the serf, when +along his furrow he sees passing, on a white horse, too exquisite a +glory, the beautiful, the majestic Lady of the Castle. So in the East +arises the mournful idyll of the impossible loves of the Rose and the +Nightingale. Nevertheless, there is one great difference: the bird and +the flower are both beautiful; nay, are alike in their beauty. But +here the humbler being, doomed to a place so far below, avows to +himself that he is ugly and monstrous. But amidst his wailing he feels +in himself a power greater than the East can know. With the will of a +hero, through the very greatness of his desire, he breaks out of his +idle coverings. He loves so much, this monster, that he is loved, and, +in return, through that love grows beautiful. + +An infinite tenderness pervades it all. This soul enchanted thinks not +of itself alone. It busies itself in saving all nature and all society +as well. Victims of every kind, the child beaten by its step-mother, +the youngest sister slighted, ill-used by her elders, are the surest +objects of its liking. Even to the Lady of the Castle does its +compassion extend; it mourns her fallen into the hands of so fierce a +lord as Blue-Beard. It yearns with pity towards the beasts; it seeks +to console them for being still in the shape of animals. Let them be +patient, and their day will come. Some day their prisoned souls shall +put on wings, shall be free, lovely, and beloved. This is the other +side of _Ass’s Skin_ and such like stories. There especially we are +sure of finding a woman’s heart. The rude labourer in the fields may +be hard enough to his beasts, but to the woman they are no beasts. She +regards them with the feeling of a child. To her fancy all is human, +all is soul: the whole world becomes ennobled. It is a beautiful +enchantment. Humble as she is, and ugly as she thinks herself, she +has given all her beauty, all her grace to the surrounding universe. + + * * * * * + +Is she, then, so ugly, this little peasant-wife, whose dreaming fancy +feeds on things like these? I tell you she keeps house, she spins and +minds the flock, she visits the forest to gather a little wood. As yet +she has neither the hard work nor the ugly looks of the countrywoman +as afterwards fashioned by the prevalent culture of grain crops. Nor +is she like the fat townswife, heavy and slothful, about whom our +fathers made such a number of fat stories. She has no sense of safety; +she is meek and timid, and feels herself, as it were, in God’s hand. +On yonder hill she can see the dark frowning castle, whence a thousand +harms may come upon her. Her husband she holds in equal fear and +honour. A serf elsewhere, by her side he is a king. For him she saves +of her best, living herself on nothing. She is small and slender like +the women-saints of the Church. The poor feeding of those days must +needs make women fine-bred, but lacking also in vital strength. The +children die off in vast numbers: those pale roses are all nerves. +Hence, will presently burst forth the epileptic dances of the +fourteenth century. Meanwhile, towards the twelfth century, there come +to be two weaknesses attached to this state of half-grown youth: by +night somnambulism; in the daytime seeing of visions, trance, and the +gift of tears. + + * * * * * + +This woman, for all her innocence, still has a secret which the Church +may never be told. Locked up in her heart she bears the pitying +remembrance of those poor old gods who have fallen into the state of +spirits;[21] and spirits, you must know, are not exempt from +suffering. Dwelling in rocks, and in hearts of oak, they are very +unhappy in winter; being particularly fond of warmth. They ramble +about houses; they are sometimes seen in stables warming themselves +beside the beasts. Bereft of incense and burnt-offerings, they +sometimes take of the milk. The housewife being thrifty, will not +stint her husband, but lessens her own share, and in the evening +leaves a little cream. + + [21] This loyalty of hers is very touching indeed. In the + fifth century the peasants braved persecution by parading the + gods of the old religion in the shape of small dolls made of + linen or flour. Still the same in the eighth century. The + _Capitularies_ threaten death in vain. In the twelfth + century, Burchard, of Worms, attests their inutility. In + 1389, the Sorbonne inveighs against certain traces of + heathenism, while in 1400, Gerson talks of it as still a + lively superstition. + +Those spirits who only appear at night, regret their banishment from +the day and are greedy of lamplight. By night the housewife starts on +her perilous trip, bearing a small lantern, to the great oak where +they dwell, or to the secret fountain whose mirror, as it multiplies +the flame, may cheer up those sorrowful outlaws. + +But if anyone should know of it, good heavens! Her husband is canny +and fears the Church: he would certainly give her a beating. The +priest wages fierce war with the sprites, and hunts them out of every +place. Yet he might leave them their dwelling in the oaks! What harm +can they do in the forest? Alas! no: from council to council they are +hunted down. On set days the priest will go even to the oak, and with +prayers and holy water drive away the spirits. + +How would it be if no kind soul took pity on them? This woman, +however, will take them under her care. She is an excellent Christian, +but will keep for them one corner of her heart. To them alone can she +entrust those little natural affairs, which, harmless as they are in a +chaste wife’s dwelling, the Church at any rate would count as +blameworthy. They are the confidants, the confessors of these touching +womanly secrets. Of them she thinks, when she puts the holy log on the +fire. It is Christmastide; but also is it the ancient festival of the +Northern spirits, the _Feast of the Longest Night_. So, too, the Eve +of May-day is the _Pervigilium of Maia_, when the tree is planted. So, +too, with the Eve of St. John, the true feast-day of life, of flowers, +and newly-awakened love. She who has no children makes it her especial +duty to cherish these festivals, and to offer them a deep devotion. A +vow to the Virgin would perhaps be of little avail, it being no +concern of Mary’s. In a low whisper, she prefers addressing some +ancient _genius_, worshipped in other days as a rustic deity, and +afterwards by the kindness of some local church transformed into a +saint.[22] And thus it happens that the bed, the cradle, all the +sweetest mysteries on which the chaste and loving soul can brood, +belong to the olden gods. + + [22] A. Maury, _Magie_, 159. + + * * * * * + +Nor are the sprites ungrateful. One day she awakes, and without having +stirred a finger, finds all her housekeeping done. In her amazement +she makes the sign of the cross and says nothing. When the good man +goes she questions herself, but in vain. It must have been a spirit. +“What can it be? How came it here? How I should like to see it! But I +am afraid: they say it is death to see a spirit.”--Yet the cradle +moves and swings of itself. She is clasped by some one, and a voice so +soft, so low that she took it for her own, is heard saying, “Dearest +mistress, I love to rock your babe, because I am myself a babe.” Her +heart beats, and yet she takes courage a little. The innocence of the +cradle gives this spirit also an innocent air, causing her to believe +it good, gentle, suffered at least by God. + +From that day forth she is no longer alone. She readily feels its +presence, and it is never far from her. It rubs her gown, and she +hears the grazing. It rambles momently about her, and plainly cannot +leave her side. If she goes to the stable, it is there; and she +believes that the other day it was in the churn.[23] + + [23] This is a favourite haunt of the little rogue’s. To this + day the Swiss, knowing his tastes, make him a present of some + milk. His name among them is _troll_ (_drôle_); among the + Germans _kobold_, _nix_. In France he is called _follet_, + _goblin_, _lutin_; in England, _Puck_, _Robin Goodfellow_. + Shakespeare says, he does sleepy servants the kindness to + pinch them black and blue, in order to rouse them. + +Pity she cannot take it up and look at it! Once, when she suddenly +touched the brands, she fancied she saw the tricksy little thing +tumbling about in the sparks; another time she missed catching it in a +rose. Small as it is, it works, sweeps, arranges, saves her a thousand +cares. + +It has its faults, however; is giddy, bold, and if she did not hold it +fast, might perhaps shake itself free. It observes and listens too +much. It repeats sometimes of a morning some little word she had +whispered very, very softly on going to bed, when the light was put +out. She knows it to be very indiscreet, exceedingly curious. She is +irked with feeling herself always followed about, complains of it, and +likes complaining. Sometimes, having threatened him and turned him +off, she feels herself quite at ease. But just then she finds herself +caressed by a light breathing, as it were a bird’s wing. He was under +a leaf. He laughs: his gentle voice, free from mocking, declares the +joy he felt in taking his chaste young mistress by surprise. On her +making a show of great wrath, “No, my darling, my little pet,” says +the monkey, “you are not a bit sorry to have me here.” + +She feels ashamed and dares say nothing more. But she guesses now that +she loves him overmuch. She has scruples about it, and loves him yet +more. All night she seems to feel him creeping up to her bed. In her +fear she prays to God, and keeps close to her husband. What shall she +do? She has not the strength to tell the Church. She tells her +husband, who laughs at first incredulously. Then she owns to a little +more,--what a madcap the goblin is, sometimes even overbold. “What +matters? He is so small.” Thus he himself sets her mind at ease. + +Should we too feel reassured, we who can see more clearly? She is +quite innocent still. She would shrink from copying the great lady up +there who, in the face of her husband, has her court of lovers and her +page. Let us own, however, that to that point the goblin has already +smoothed the way. One could not have a more perilous page than he who +hides himself under a rose; and, moreover, he smacks of the lover. +More intrusive than anyone else, he is so tiny that he can creep +anywhere. + +He glides even into the husband’s heart, paying him court and winning +his good graces. He looks after his tools, works in his garden, and of +an evening, by way of reward, curls himself up in the chimney, behind +the babe and the cat. They hear his small voice, just like a +cricket’s; but they never see much of him, save when a faint glimmer +lights a certain cranny in which he loves to stay. Then they see, or +think they see, a thin little face; and cry out, “Ah! little one, we +have seen you at last!” + +In church they are told to mistrust the spirits, for even one that +seems innocent, and glides about like a light breeze, may after all be +a devil. They take good care not to believe it. His size begets a +belief in his innocence. Whilst he is there, they thrive. The husband +holds to him as much as the wife, and perhaps more. He sees that the +tricksy little elf makes the fortune of the house. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +TEMPTATIONS. + + +I have kept this picture clear of those dreadful shadows of the hour +by which it would have been sadly overdarkened. I refer especially to +the uncertainty attending the lot of these rural households, to their +constant fear and foreboding of some casual outrage which might at any +moment descend on them from the castle. + +There were just two things which made the feudal rule a hell: on one +hand, its _exceeding steadfastness_, man being nailed, as it were, to +the ground, and emigration made impossible; on the other, a very great +degree of _uncertainty_ about his lot. + +The optimist historians who say so much about fixed rents, charters, +buying of immunities, forget how slightly all this was guaranteed. So +much you were bound to pay the lord, but all the rest he could take if +he chose; and this was very fitly called the _right of seizure_. You +may work and work away, my good fellow! But while you are in the +fields, yon dreaded band from the castle will fall upon your house and +carry off whatever they please “for their lord’s service.” + +Look again at that man standing with his head bowed gloomily over the +furrow! And thus he is always found, his face clouded, his heart +oppressed, as if he were expecting some evil news. Is he meditating +some wrongful deed? No; but there are two ideas haunting him, two +daggers piercing him in turn. The one is, “In what state shall I find +my house this evening?” The other, “Would that the turning up of this +sod might bring some treasure to light! O that the good spirit would +help to buy us free!” + +We are assured that, after the fashion of the Etruscan spirit which +one day started up from under the ploughshare in the form of a child, +a dwarf or gnome of the tiniest stature would sometimes on such an +appeal come forth from the ground, and, setting itself on the furrow, +would say, “What wantest thou?” But in his amazement the poor man +would ask for nothing; he would turn pale, cross himself, and +presently go quite away. + +Did he never feel sorry afterwards? Said he never to himself, “Fool +that you are, you will always be unlucky?” I readily believe he did; +but I also think that a barrier of dread invincible stopped him short. +I cannot believe with the monks who have told us all things concerning +witchcraft, that the treaty with Satan was the light invention of a +miser or a man in love. On the contrary, nature and good sense alike +inform us that it was only the last resource of an overwhelming +despair, under the weight of dreadful outrages and dreadful +sufferings. + + * * * * * + +But those great sufferings, we are told, must have been greatly +lightened about the time of St. Louis, who forbade private wars among +the nobles. My own opinion is quite the reverse. During the fourscore +or hundred years that elapsed between his prohibition and the wars +with England (1240-1340), the great lords being debarred from the +accustomed sport of burning and plundering their neighbours’ lands, +became a terror to their own vassals. For the latter such a peace was +simply war. + +The spiritual, the monkish lords, and others, as shown in the _Journal +of Eudes Rigault_, lately published, make one shudder. It is a +repulsive picture of profligacy at once savage and uncontrolled. The +monkish lords especially assail the nunneries. The austere Rigault, +Archbishop of Rouen, confessor of the holy king, conducts a personal +inquiry into the state of Normandy. Every evening he comes to a +monastery. In all of them he finds the monks leading the life of great +feudal lords, wearing arms, getting drunk, fighting duels, keen +huntsmen over all the cultivated land; the nuns living among them in +wild confusion, and betraying everywhere the fruits of their shameless +deeds. + +If things are so in the Church, what must the lay lords have been? +What like was the inside of those dark towers which the folk below +regarded with so much horror? Two tales, undoubtedly historical, +namely, _Blue-Beard_ and _Griselda_, tell us something thereanent. To +his vassals, his serfs, what indeed must have been this devotee of +torture who treated his own family in such a way? He is known to us +through the only man who was brought to trial for such deeds; and that +not earlier than the fifteenth century,--Gilles de Retz, who kidnapped +children. + +Sir Walter Scott’s Front de Bœuf, and the other lords of melodramas +and romances, are but poor creatures in the face of these dreadful +realities. The Templar also in _Ivanhoe_, is a weak artificial +conception. The author durst not assay the foul reality of celibate +life in the Temple, or within the castle walls. Few women were taken +in there, being accounted not worth their keep. The romances of +chivalry altogether belie the truth. It is remarkable, indeed, how +often the literature of an age expresses the very opposite of its +manners, as, for instance, the washy theatre of eclogues after +Florian,[24] during the years of the Great Terror. + + [24] A writer of eclogues, fables and dramas; in youth a + friend of Voltaire, afterwards imprisoned during the + Terror.--TRANS. + +The rooms in these castles, in such at least as may be seen to-day, +speak more plainly than any books. Men-at-arms, pages, footmen, +crammed together of nights under low-vaulted roofs, in the daytime +kept on the battlements, on narrow terraces, in a state of most +sickening weariness, lived only in their pranks down below; in feats +no longer of arms on the neighbouring domains, but of hunting, ay, and +hunting of men; insults, I may say, without number, outrages untold on +families of serfs. The lord himself well knew that such an army of +men, without women, could only be kept in order by letting them loose +from time to time. + +The awful idea of a hell wherein God employs the very guiltiest of the +wicked spirits to torture the less guilty delivered over to them for +their sport,--this lovely dogma of the Middle Ages was exemplified to +the last letter. Men felt that God was not among them. Each new raid +betokened more and more clearly the kingdom of Satan, until men came +to believe that thenceforth their prayers should be offered to him +alone. + +Up in the castle there was laughing and joking. “The women-serfs were +too ugly.” There is no question raised as to their beauty. The great +pleasure lay in deeds of outrage, in striking and making them weep. +Even in the seventeenth century the great ladies died with laughing, +when the Duke of Lorraine told them how, in peaceful villages, his +people went about harrying and torturing all the women, even to the +old. + +These outrages fell most frequently, as we might suppose, on families +well to do and comparatively distinguished among the serfs; the +families, namely, of those serf-born mayors, who already in the +twelfth century appear at the head of the village. By the nobles they +were hated, jeered, cruelly plagued. Their newborn moral dignity was +not to be forgiven. Their wives and daughters were not allowed to be +good and wise: they had no right to be held in any respect. Their +honour was not their own. _Serfs of the body_, such was the cruel +phrase cast for ever in their teeth. + + * * * * * + +In days to come people will be slow to believe, that the law among +Christian nations went beyond anything decreed concerning the olden +slavery; that it wrote down as an actual right the most grievous +outrage that could ever wound man’s heart. The lord spiritual had this +foul privilege no less than the lord temporal. In a parish outside +Bourges, the parson, as being a lord, expressly claimed the +firstfruits of the bride, but was willing to sell his rights to the +husband.[25] + + [25] Lauriere, ii. 100 (on the word _Marquette_). Michelet, + _Origines du Droit_, 264. + +It has been too readily believed that this wrong was formal, not real. +But the price laid down in certain countries for getting a +dispensation, exceeded the means of almost every peasant. In Scotland, +for instance, the demand was for “several cows:” a price immense, +impossible. So the poor young wife was at their mercy. Besides, the +Courts of Béarn openly maintain that this right grew up naturally: +“The eldest-born of the peasant is accounted the son of his lord, for +he perchance it was who begat him.”[26] + + [26] When I published my _Origines_ in 1837, I could not have + known this work, published in 1842. + +All feudal customs, even if we pass over this, compel the bride to go +up to the castle, bearing thither the “wedding-dish.” Surely it was a +cruel thing to make her trust herself amongst such a pack of celibate +dogs, so shameless and so ungovernable. + +A shameful scene we may well imagine it to have been. As the young +husband is leading his bride to the castle, fancy the laughter of +cavaliers and footmen, the frolics of the pages around the wretched +poor! But the presence of the great lady herself will check them? Not +at all. The lady in whose delicate breeding the romances tell us to +believe,[27] but who, in her husband’s absence, ruled his men, +judging, chastising, ordaining penalties, to whom her husband himself +was bound by the fiefs she brought him,--such a lady would be in no +wise merciful, especially towards a girl-serf who happened also to be +good-looking. Since, according to the custom of those days, she openly +kept her gentleman and her page, she would not be sorry to sanction +her own libertinism by that of her husband. + + [27] This delicacy appears in the treatment these ladies + inflicted on their poet Jean de Meung, author of the _Roman + de la Rose_. + +Nothing will she do to hinder the fun, the sport they are making out +of yon poor trembler who has come to redeem his bride. They begin by +bargaining with him; they laugh at the pangs endured by “the miserly +peasant;” they suck the very blood and marrow of him. Why all this +fury? Because he is neatly clad; is honest, settled; is a man of mark +in the village. Why, indeed? Because she is pious, chaste, and pure; +because she loves him; because she is frightened and falls a-weeping. +Her sweet eyes plead for pity. + +In vain does the poor wretch offer all he has, even to her dowry: it +is all too little. Angered at such cruel injustice, he will say +perhaps that “his neighbour paid nothing.” The insolent fellow! he +would argue with us! Thereon they gather round him, a yelling mob: +sticks and brooms pelt upon him like hail. They jostle him, they throw +him down. “You jealous villain, you Lent-faced villain!” they cry; “no +one takes your wife from you; you shall have her back to-night, and to +enhance the honour done you ... your eldest child will be a baron!” +Everyone looks out of window at the absurd figure of this dead man in +wedding garments. He is followed by bursts of laughter, and the noisy +rabble, down to the lowest scullion, give chase to the “cuckold.”[28] + + [28] The old tales are very sportive, but rather monotonous. + They turn on three jokes only: the despair of the _cuckold_, + the cries of the _beaten_, the wry faces of the _hanged_. The + first is amusing, the second laughable, the third, as crown + of all, makes people split their sides. And the three have + one point in common: it is the weak and helpless who is + ill-used. + + * * * * * + +The poor fellow would have burst, had he nothing to hope for from the +Devil. By himself he returns: is the house empty as well as desolate? +No, there is company waiting for him there: by the fireside sits +Satan. + +But soon his bride comes back, poor wretch, all pale and undone. Alas! +alas! for her condition. At his feet she throws herself and craves +forgiveness. Then, with a bursting heart, he flings his arms round her +neck. He weeps, he sobs, he roars, till the house shakes again. + +But with her comes back God. For all her suffering, she is pure, +innocent, holy still. Satan for that nonce will get no profit: the +treaty is not yet ripe. + +Our silly Fabliaux, our absurd tales, assume with regard to this +deadly outrage and all its further issues, that the woman sides with +her oppressors against her husband; they would have us believe that +her brutal treatment by the former makes her happy and transports her +with delight. A likely thing indeed! Doubtless she might be seduced by +rank, politeness, elegant manners. But no pains are ever taken to that +end. Great would be the scoffing at anyone who made true-love’s wooing +towards a serf. The whole gang of men, to the chaplain, the butler, +even the footmen, would think they honoured her by deeds of outrage. +The smallest page thought himself a great lord, if he only seasoned +his love with insolence and blows. + + * * * * * + +One day, the poor woman, having just been ill-treated during her +husband’s absence, begins weeping, and saying quite aloud, the while +she is tying up her long hair, “Ah, those unhappy saints of the woods, +what boots it to offer them my vows? Are they deaf, or have they grown +too old? Why have I not some protecting spirit, strong and +mighty--wicked even, if it need be? Some such I see in stone at the +church-door; but what do they there? Why do they not go to their +proper dwelling, the castle, to carry off and roast those sinners? Oh, +who is there will give me power and might? I would gladly give myself +in exchange. Ah, me, what is it I would give? What have I to give on +my side? Nothing is left me. Out on this body, out on this soul, a +mere cinder now! Why, instead of this useless goblin, have I not some +spirit, great, strong, and mighty, to help me?” + +“My darling mistress! If I am small, it is your fault; and bigger I +cannot grow. And besides, if I were very big, neither you nor your +husband would have borne with me. You would have driven me away with +your priests and your holy water. I can be strong, however, if you +please. For, mistress mine, the spirits in themselves are neither +great nor small, neither weak nor strong. For him who wishes it, the +smallest can become a giant.” + +“In what way?” + +“Why, nothing can be simpler. To make him a giant, you must grant him +only one gift.” + +“What is that?” + +“A lovely woman-soul.” + +“Ah, wicked one! What then art thou, and what wouldst thou have?” + +“Only what you give me every day.... Would you be better than the lady +up yonder? She has pledged her soul to her husband and to her lover, +and yet she yields it whole to her page. I am more than a page to you, +more than a servant. In how many matters have I not been your little +handmaid! Do not blush, nor be angry. Let me only say, that I am all +about you, and already perhaps in you. Else, how could I know your +thoughts, even those which you hide from yourself? Who am I, then? +Your little soul, which speaks thus openly to the great one. We are +inseparable. Do you know how long I have been with you? Some thousand +years, for I belonged to your mother, to hers, to your ancestors. I am +the Spirit of the Fireside.” + +“Tempter! What wilt thou do?” + +“Why, thy husband shall be rich, thyself mighty, and men shall fear +thee.” + +“Where am I? Surely thou art the demon of hidden treasures!” + +“Why call me demon, if I do deeds of justice, of goodness, of piety? +God cannot be everywhere--He cannot be always working. Sometimes He +likes to rest, leaving us other spirits here to carry on the smaller +husbandry, to remedy the ills which his providence passed over, which +his justice forgot to handle. + +“Of this your husband is an example. Poor, deserving workman, he is +killing himself and gaining nought in return. Heaven has had no time +to look after him. But I, though rather jealous of him, still love my +kind host. I pity him: his strength is going, he can bear up no +longer. He will die, like your children, already dead of misery. This +winter he was ill; what will become of him the next?” + +Thereon, her face in her hands, she wept two, three hours, and even +more. And when she had poured out all her tears--her bosom still +throbbing hard--the other said, “I ask nothing: only, I pray, save +him.” + +She had promised nothing, but from that hour she became his. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +POSSESSION. + + +A dreadful age was the age of gold; for thus do I call that hard time +when gold first came into use. This was in the year 1300, during the +reign of that Fair King[29] who never spake a word; the great king who +seemed to have a dumb devil, but a devil with mighty arm, strong +enough to burn the Temple, long enough to reach Rome, and with glove +of iron to deal the first good blow at the Pope. + + [29] Philip the Fair of France, who put down the Templar in + Paris, and first secured the liberties of the Gallican + Church.--TRANS. + +Gold thereupon becomes a great pope, a mighty god, and not without +cause. The movement began in Europe with the Crusades: the only wealth +men cared for was that which having wings could lend itself to their +enterprise; the wealth, namely, of swift exchanges. To strike blows +afar off the king wants nothing but gold. An army of gold, a fiscal +army, spreads over all the land. The lord, who has brought back with +him his dreams of the East, is always longing for its wonders, for +damascened armour, carpets, spices, valuable steeds. For all such +things he needs gold. He pushes away with his foot the serf who +brings him corn. “That is not all; I want gold!” + +On that day the world was changed. Theretofore in the midst of much +evil there had always been a harmless certainty about the tax. +According as the year was good or bad, the rent followed the course of +nature and the measure of the harvest. If the lord said, “This is +little,” he was answered, “My lord, Heaven has granted us no more.” + +But the gold, alas! where shall we find it? We have no army to seize +it in the towns of Flanders. Where shall we dig the ground to win him +his treasure? Oh, that the spirit of hidden treasures would be our +guide![30] + + [30] The devils trouble the world all through the Middle + Ages; but not before the thirteenth century does Satan put on + a settled shape. “_Compacts_,” says M. Maury, “are very rare + before that epoch;” and I believe him. How could they treat + with one who as yet had no real existence? Neither of the + treating parties was yet ripe for the contract. Before the + will could be reduced to the dreadful pass of selling itself + for ever, it must be made thoroughly desperate. It is not the + unhappy who falls into despair, but the truly wretched, who + being quite conscious of his misery, and having yet more to + suffer, can find no escape therefrom. The wretched in this + way are the men of the fourteenth century, from whom they ask + a thing so impossible as payments in gold. In this and the + following chapter I have touched on the circumstances, the + feelings, the growing despair, which brought about the + enormity of _compacts_, and, worse still than these, the + dreadful character of the _Witch_. If the name was freely + used, the thing itself was then rare, being no less than a + marriage and a kind of priesthood. For ease of illustration, + I have joined together the details of so delicate a scrutiny + by a thread of fiction. The outward body of it matters + little. The essential point is to remember that such things + were not caused, as they try to persuade us, by _human + fickleness, by the inconstancy of our fallen nature, by the + chance persuasions of desire_. There was needed the deadly + pressure of an age of iron, of cruel needs: it was needful + that Hell itself should seem a shelter, an asylum, by + contrast with the hell below. + +While all are desperate, the woman with the goblin is already seated +on her sacks of corn in the little neighbouring village. She is alone, +the rest being still at their debate in the village. + +She sells at her own price. But even when the rest come up, everything +favours her, some strange magical allurement working on her side. No +one bargains with her. Her husband, before his time, brings his rent +in good sounding coin to the feudal elm. “Amazing!” they all say, “but +the Devil is in her!” + +They laugh, but she does not. She is sorrowful and afraid. In vain she +tries to pray that night. Strange prickings disturb her slumber. +Fantastic forms appear before her. The small gentle sprite seems to +have grown imperious. He waxes bold. She is uneasy, indignant, eager +to rise. In her sleep she groans, and feels herself dependent, saying, +“No more do I belong to myself!” + + * * * * * + +“Here is a sensible countryman,” says the lord; “he pays beforehand! +You charm me: do you know accounts?”--“A little.”--“Well then, you +shall reckon with these folk. Every Saturday you shall sit under the +elm and receive their money. On Sunday, before mass, you shall bring +it up to the castle.” + +What a change in their condition! How the wife’s heart beats when of a +Saturday she sees her poor workman, serf though he be, seated like a +lordling under the baronial shades. At first he feels giddy, but in +time accustoms himself to put on a grave air. It is no joking matter, +indeed; for the lord commands them to show him due respect. When he +has gone up to the castle, and the jealous ones look like laughing and +designing to pay him off, “You see that battlement,” says the lord, +“the rope you don’t see, but it is also ready. The first man who +touches him shall be set up there high and quick.” + + * * * * * + +This speech is repeated from one to another; until it has spread +around these two as it were an atmosphere of terror. Everybody doffs +his hat to them, bowing very low indeed. But when they pass by, folk +stand aloof, and get out of the way. In order to shirk them they turn +up cross roads, with backs bended, with eyes turned carefully down. +Such a change makes them first savage, but afterwards sorrowful. They +walk alone through all the district. The wife’s shrewdness marks the +hostile scorn of the castle, the trembling hate of those below. She +feels herself fearfully isolated between two perils. No one to defend +her but her lord, or rather the money they pay him: but then to find +that money, to spur on the peasant’s slowness, and overcome his +sluggish antagonism, to snatch somewhat even from him who has nothing, +what hard pressure, what threats, what cruelty, must be employed! This +was never in the goodman’s line of business. The wife brings him to +the mark by dint of much pushing: she says to him, “Be rough; at need +be cruel. Strike hard. Otherwise you will fall short of your +engagements; and then we are undone.” + +This suffering by day, however, is a trifle in comparison with the +tortures of the night. She seems to have lost the power of sleeping. +She gets up, walks to and fro, and roams about the house. All is +still; and yet how the house is altered; its old innocence, its sweet +security all for ever gone! “Of what is that cat by the hearth +a-thinking, as she pretends to sleep, and ’tweenwhiles opens her green +eyes upon me? The she-goat with her long beard, looking so discreet +and ominous, knows more about it than she can tell. And yon cow which +the moon reveals by glimpses in her stall, why does she give me such a +sidelong look? All this is surely unnatural!” + +Shivering, she returns to her husband’s side. “Happy man, how deep his +slumber! Mine is over; I cannot sleep, I never shall sleep again.” In +time, however, she falls off. But oh, what suffering visits her then! +The importunate guest is beside her, demanding and giving his orders. +If one while she gets rid of him by praying or making the sign of the +cross, anon he returns under another form. “Get back, devil! What +durst thou? I am a Christian soul. No, thou shalt not touch me!” + +In revenge he puts on a hundred hideous forms; twining as an adder +about her bosom, dancing as a frog upon her stomach, anon like a bat, +sharp-snouted, covering her scared mouth with dreadful kisses. What is +it he wants? To drive her into a corner, so that conquered and crushed +at last, she may yield and utter the word “Yes.” Still she is resolute +to say “No.” Still she is bent on braving the cruel struggles of every +night, the endless martyrdom of that wasting strife. + + * * * * * + +“How far can a spirit make himself withal a body? What reality can +there be in his efforts and approaches? Would she be sinning in the +flesh, if she allowed the intrusions of one who was always roaming +about her? Would that be sheer adultery?” Such was the sly roundabout +way in which sometimes he stayed and weakened her resistance. “If I am +only a breath, a smoke, a thin air, as so many doctors call me, why +are you afraid, poor fearful soul, and how does it concern your +husband?” + +It is the painful doom of the soul in these Middle Ages, that a number +of questions which to us would seem idle, questions of pure +scholastics, disturb, frighten, and torment it, taking the guise of +visions, sometimes of devilish debatings, of cruel dialogues carried +on within. The Devil, fierce as he shows himself in the demoniacs, +remains always a spirit throughout the days of the Roman Empire, even +in the time of St. Martin or the fifth century. With the Barbarian +inroads he waxes barbarous, and takes to himself a body. So great a +body does he become, that he amuses himself in breaking with stones +the bell of the convent of St. Benedict. More and more fleshly is he +made to appear, by way of frightening the plunderers of ecclesiastical +goods. People are taught to believe that sinners will be tormented not +in the spirit only, but even bodily in the flesh; that they will +suffer material tortures, not those of ideal flames, but in very deed +such exquisite pangs as burning coals, gridirons, and red-hot spits +can awaken. + +This conception of the torturing devils inflicting material agonies on +the souls of the dead, was a mine of gold to the Church. The living, +pierced with grief and pity, asked themselves “if it were possible to +redeem these poor souls from one world to another; if to these, too, +might be applied such forms of expiation, by atonement and compromise, +as were practised upon earth?” This bridge between two worlds was +found in Cluny, which from its very birth, about 900, became at once +among the wealthiest of the monastic orders. + +So long as God Himself dealt out his punishments, _making heavy his +hand_, or striking _with the sword of the Angel_, according to the +grand old phrase, there was much less of horror; if his hand was heavy +as that of a judge, it was still the hand of a Father. The Angel who +struck remained pure and clean as his own sword. Far otherwise is it +when the execution is done by filthy demons, who resemble not the +angel that burned up Sodom, but the angel that first went forth +therefrom. In that place they stay, and their hell is a kind of Sodom, +wherein these spirits, fouler than the sinners yielded into their +charge, extract a horrible joy from the tortures they are inflicting. +Such was the teaching to be found in the simple carvings hung out at +the doors of churches. By these men learned the horrible lesson of the +pleasures of pain. On pretence of punishing, the devils wreaked upon +their victims the most outrageous whims. Truly an immoral and most +shameful idea was this, of a sham justice that befriended the worse +side, deepening its wickedness by the present of a plaything, and +corrupting the Demon himself! + + * * * * * + +Cruel times indeed! Think how dark and low a heaven it was, how +heavily it weighed on the head of man! Fancy the poor little children +from their earliest years imbued with such awful ideas, and trembling +within their cradles! Look at the pure innocent virgin believing +herself damned for the pleasure infused in her by the spirit! And the +wife in her marriage-bed tortured by his attacks, withstanding him, +and yet again feeling him within her!--a fearful feeling known to +those who have suffered from tænia. You feel in yourself a double +life; you trace the monster’s movements, now boisterous, anon soft and +waving, and therein the more troublesome, as making you fancy yourself +on the sea. Then you rush off in wild dismay, terrified at yourself, +longing to escape, to die. + +Even at such times as the demon was not raging against her, the woman +into whom he had once forced his way would wander about as one +burdened with gloom. For thenceforth she had no remedy. He had taken +fast hold of her, like an impure steam. He is the Prince of the Air, +of storms, and not least of the storms within. All this may be seen +rudely but forcefully presented under the great doorway of Strasburg +Cathedral. Heading the band of _Foolish Virgins_, the wicked woman who +lures them on to destruction is filled, blown out by the Devil, who +overflows ignobly and passes out from under her skirts in a dark +stream of thick smoke. + +This blowing-out is a painful feature in the _possession_; at once her +punishment and her pride. This proud woman of Strasburg bears her +belly well before her, while her head is thrown far back. She triumphs +in her size, delights in being a monster. + +To this, however, the woman we are following has not yet come. But +already she is puffed up with him, and with her new and lofty lot. +The earth has ceased to bear her. Plump and comely in these better +days, she goes down the street with head upright, and merciless in her +scorn. She is feared, hated, admired. + +In look and bearing our village lady says, “I ought to be the great +lady herself. And what does she up yonder, the shameless sluggard, +amidst all those men, in the absence of her lord?” And now the rivalry +is set on foot. The village, while it loathes her, is proud thereat. +“If the lady of the castle is a baroness, our woman is a queen; and +more than a queen,--we dare not say what.” Her beauty is a dreadful, a +fantastic beauty, killing in its pride and pain. The Demon himself is +in her eyes. + + * * * * * + +He has her and yet has her not. She is still _herself_, and preserves +_herself_. She belongs neither to the Demon nor to God. The Demon may +certainly invade her, may encompass her like a fine atmosphere. And +yet he has gained nothing at all; for he has no will thereto. She is +_possessed_, _bedevilled_, and she does not belong to the Devil. +Sometimes he uses her with dreadful cruelty, and yet gains nothing +thereby. He places a coal of fire on her breast, or within her bowels. +She jumps and writhes, but still says, “No, butcher, I will stay as I +am.” + +“Take care! I will lash you with so cruel a scourge of vipers, I will +smite you with such a blow, that you will afterwards go weeping and +rending the air with your cries.” + +The next night he will not come. In the morning--it was Sunday--her +husband went up to the castle. He came back all undone. The lord had +said: “A brook that flows drop by drop cannot turn the mill. You bring +me a halfpenny at a time, which is good for nought. I must set off in +a fortnight. The king marches towards Flanders, and I have not even a +war-horse, my own being lame ever since the tourney. Get ready for +business: I am in want of a hundred pounds.” + +“But, my lord, where shall I find them?” + +“You may sack the whole village, if you will; I am about to give you +men enough. Tell your churls, if the money is not forthcoming they are +lost men; yourself especially--you shall die. I have had enough of +you: you have the heart of a woman; you are slack and sluggish. You +shall die--you shall pay for your cowardice, your effeminacy. Stay; it +makes but very small difference whether you go down now, or whether I +keep you here. This is Sunday: right loudly would the folk yonder +laugh to see you dangling your legs from my battlements.” + +All this the unhappy man tells again to his wife; and preparing +hopelessly for death, commends his soul to God. She being just as +frightened, can neither lie down nor sleep. What is to be done? How +sorry she is now to have sent the spirit away! If he would but come +back! In the morning, when her husband rises, she sinks crushed upon +the bed. She has hardly done so, when she feels on her chest a heavy +weight. Gasping for breath, she is like to choke. The weight falls +lower till it presses on her stomach, and therewithal on her arms she +feels the grasp as of two steel hands. + +“You wanted me, and here I am. So, at last, stubborn one, I have your +soul--at last!” + +“But oh, sir, is it mine to give away? My poor husband! you used to +love him--you said so: you promised----” + +“Your husband! You forget. Are you sure your thoughts were always kept +upon him? Your soul! I ask for it as a favour; but it is already +mine.” + +“No, sir,” she says--her pride once more returning to her, even in so +dire a strait--“no, sir; that soul belongs to me, to my husband, to +our marriage rites.” + +“Ah, incorrigible little fool! you would struggle still, even now that +you are under the goad! I have seen your soul at all hours; I know it +better than you yourself. Day by day did I mark your first +reluctances, your pains, and your fits of despair. I saw how +disheartened you were when, in a low tone, you said that no one could +be held to an impossibility. And then I saw you growing more resigned. +You were beaten a little, and you cried out not very loud. As for me, +I ask for your soul simply because you have already lost it. +Meanwhile, your husband is dying. What is to be done? I am sorry for +you: I have you in my power; but I want something more. You must +grant it frankly and of free will, or else he is a dead man.” + +She answered very low, in her sleep, “Ah me! my body and my miserable +flesh, you may take them to save my husband; but my heart, never. No +one has ever had it, and I cannot give it away.” + +So, all resignedly she waited there. And he flung at her two words: +“Keep them, and they will save you.” Therewith she shuddered, felt +within her a horrible thrill of fire, and, uttering a loud cry, awoke +in the arms of her astonished husband, to drown him in a flood of +tears. + + * * * * * + +She tore herself away by force, and got up, fearing lest she should +forget those two important words. Her husband was alarmed; for, +without looking even at him, she darted on the wall a glance as +piercing as that of Medea. Never was she more handsome. In her dark +eye and the yellowish white around it played such a glimmer as one +durst not face--a glimmer like the sulphurous jet of a volcano. + +She walked straight to the town. The first word was “_Green_.” Hanging +at a tradesman’s door she beheld a green gown--the colour of the +Prince of the World--an old gown, which as she put it on became new +and glossy. Then she walked, without asking anyone, straight to the +door of a Jew, at which she knocked loudly. It was opened with great +caution. The poor Jew was sitting on the ground, covered over with +ashes. “My dear, I must have a hundred pounds.” + +“Oh, madam, how am I to get them? The Prince-bishop of the town has +just had my teeth drawn to make me say where my gold lies.[31] Look at +my bleeding mouth.” + + [31] This was a common way of extracting help from the Jews. + King John Lackland often tried it. + +“I know, I know; but I come to obtain from you the very means of +destroying your Bishop. When the Pope gets a cuffing, the Bishop will +not hold out long.” + +“Who says so?” + +“_Toledo._”[32] + + [32] Toledo seems to have been the holy city of Wizards, who + in Spain were numberless. These relations with the civilized + Moors, with the Jews so learned and paramount in Spain, as + managers of the royal revenues, had given them a very high + degree of culture, and in Toledo they formed a kind of + University. In the sixteenth century, it was christianised, + remodelled, reduced to mere _white magic_. See the + _Deposition of the Wizard Achard, Lord of Beaumont, a + Physician of Poitou_. Lancre, _Incredulité_, p. 781. + +He hung his head. She spoke and blew: within her was her own soul and +the Devil to boot. A wondrous warmth filled the room: he himself was +aware of a kind of fiery fountain. “Madam,” said he, looking at her +from under his eyes, “poor and ruined as I am, I had some pence still +in store to sustain my poor children.” + +“You will not repent of it, Jew. I will swear to you the _great oath_ +that kills whoso breaks it. What you are about to give me, you shall +receive back in a week, at an early hour in the morning. This I swear +by your _great oath_ and by mine, which is yet greater: ‘_Toledo_.’” + + * * * * * + +A year went by. She had grown round and plump; had made herself one +mass of gold. Men were amazed at her power of charming. Every one +admired and obeyed her. By some devilish miracle the Jew had grown so +generous as to lend at the slightest signal. By herself she maintained +the castle, both through her own credit in the town, and through the +fear inspired in the village by her rough extortion. The all-powerful +green gown floated to and fro, ever newer and more beautiful. Her own +beauty grew, as it were, colossal with success and pride. Frightened +at a result so natural, everyone said, “At her time of life how tall +she grows!” + +Meanwhile we have some news: the lord is coming home. The lady, who +for a long time had not dared to come forth, lest she might meet the +face of this other woman down below, now mounted her white horse. +Surrounded by all her people, she goes to meet her husband; she stops +and salutes him. + +And, first of all, she says, “How long I have been looking for you! +Why did you leave your faithful wife so long a languishing widow? And +yet I will not take you in to-night, unless you grant me a boon.” + +“Ask it, ask it, fair lady,” says the gentleman laughing; “but make +haste, for I am eager to embrace you. How beautiful you have grown!” + +She whispered in his ear, so that no one knew what she said. Before +going up to the castle the worthy lord dismounts by the village +church, and goes in. Under the porch, at the head of the chief people, +he beholds a lady, to whom without knowing her he offers a low salute. +With matchless pride she bears high over the men’s heads the towering +horned bonnet (_hennin_[33]) of the period; the triumphal cap of the +Devil, as it was often called, because of the two horns wherewith it +was embellished. The real lady, blushing at her eclipse, went out +looking very small. Anon she muttered, angrily, “There goes your serf. +It is all over: everything has changed places: the ass insults the +horse.” + + [33] The absurd head-dress of the women, with its one and + often two horns sloping back from the head, in the fourteenth + century.--TRANS. + +As they are going off, a bold page, a pet of the lady’s, draws from +his girdle a well-sharpened dagger, and with a single turn cleverly +cuts the fine robe along her loins.[34] The crowd was astonished, but +began to make it out when it saw the whole of the Baron’s household +going off in pursuit of her. Swift and merciless about her whistled +and fell the strokes of the whip. She flies, but slowly, being already +grown somewhat heavy. She has hardly gone twenty paces when she +stumbles; her best friend having put a stone in her way to trip her +up. Amidst roars of laughter she sprawls yelling on the ground. But +the ruthless pages flog her up again. The noble handsome greyhounds +help in the chase and bite her in the tenderest places. At last, in +sad disorder, amidst the terrible crowd, she reaches the door of her +house. It is shut. There with hands and feet she beats away, crying, +“Quick, quick, my love, open the door for me!” There hung she, like +the hapless screech-owl whom they nail up on a farm-house door; and +still as hard as ever rained the blows. Within the house all is deaf. +Is the husband there? Or rather, being rich and frightened, does he +dread the crowd, lest they should sack his house? + + [34] Such cruel outrages were common in those days. By the + French and Anglo-Saxon laws, lewdness was thus punished. + Grimm, 679, 711. Sternhook, 19, 326. Ducange, iii. 52. + Michelet, _Origines_, 386, 389. By and by, the same rough + usage is dealt out to honest women, to citizen’s wives, whose + pride the nobles seek to abase. We know the kind of ambush + into which the tyrant Hagenbach drew the honourable ladies of + the chief burghers in Alsace, probably in scorn of their rich + and royal costume, all silks and gold. In my _Origines_ I + have also related the strange claim made by the Lord of Pacé, + in Anjou, on the pretty (and honest) women of the + neighbourhood. They were to bring to the castle fourpence and + a chaplet of flowers, and to dance with his officers: a + dangerous trip, in which they might well fear some such + affronts as those offered by Hagenbach. They were forced to + obey by the threat of being stripped and pricked with a goad + bearing the impress of the lord’s arms. + +And now she has borne such misery, such strokes, such sounding +buffets, that she sinks down in a swoon. On the cold stone threshold +she finds herself seated, naked, half-dead, her bleeding flesh covered +with little else than the waves of her long hair. Some one from the +castle says, “No more now! We do not want her to die.” + +They leave her alone, to hide herself. But in spirit she can see the +merriment going on at the castle. The lord however, somewhat dazed, +said that he was sorry for it. But the chaplain says, in his meek way, +“If this woman is _bedevilled_, as they say, my lord, you owe it to +your good vassals, you owe it to the whole country, to hand her over +to Holy Church. Since all that business with the Templars and the +Pope, what way the Demon is making! Nothing but fire will do for him.” +Upon which a Dominican says, “Your reverence has spoken right well. +This devilry is a heresy in the highest degree. The bedevilled, like +the heretic, should be burnt. Some of our good fathers, however, do +not trust themselves now even to the fire. Wisely they desire that, +before all things, the soul may be slowly purged, tried, subdued by +fastings; that it may not be burnt in its pride, that it shall not +triumph at the stake. If you, madam, in the greatness of your piety, +of your charity, would take the trouble to work upon this woman, +putting her for some years _in pace_ in a safe cell, of which you +only should have the key,--by thus keeping up the chastening process +you might be doing good to her soul, shaming the Devil, and giving +herself up meek and humble into the hands of the Church.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE COVENANT. + + +Nothing was wanting but the victim. They knew that to bring this woman +before her was the most charming present she could receive. Tenderly +would she have acknowledged the devotion of anyone who would have +given her so great a token of his love, by delivering that poor +bleeding body into her hands. + +But the prey was aware of the hunters. A few minutes later and she +would have been carried off, to be for ever sealed up beneath the +stone. Wrapping herself in some rags found by chance in the stable, +she took to herself wings of some kind, and before midnight gained +some out-of-the-way spot on a lonely moor all covered with briars and +thistles. It was on the skirts of a wood, where by the uncertain light +she might gather a few acorns, to swallow them like a beast. Ages had +elapsed since evening; she was utterly changed. Beauty and queen of +the village no more, she seemed with the change in her spirit to have +changed her postures also. Among her acorns she squatted like a boar +or a monkey. Thoughts far from human circled within her as she heard, +or seemed to hear the hooting of an owl, followed by a burst of +shrill laughter. She felt afraid, but perhaps it was the merry +mockbird mimicking all those sounds, according to its wonted fashion. + +But the laughter begins again: whence comes it? She can see nothing. +Apparently it comes from an old oak. Distinctly, however, she hears +these words: “So, here you are at last! You have come with an ill +grace; nor would you have come now, if you had not tried the full +depth of your last need. You were fain first to run the gauntlet of +whips; to cry out and plead for mercy, haughty as you were; to be +mocked, undone, forsaken, unsheltered even by your husband. Where +would you have been this night, if I had not been charitable enough to +show you the _in pace_ getting ready for you in the tower? Late, very +late, you are in coming to me, and only after they have called you the +_old woman_. In your youth you did not treat me well, when I was your +wee goblin, so eager to serve you. Now take your turn, if so I wish +it, to serve me and kiss my feet. + +“You were mine from birth through your inborn wickedness, through +those devilish charms of yours. I was your lover, your husband. Your +own has shut his door against you: I will not shut mine. I welcome you +to my domains, my free prairies, my woods. How am I the gainer, you +may say? Could I not long since have had you at any hour? Were you +not invaded, possessed, filled with my flame? I changed your blood +and renewed it: not a vein in your body where I do not flow. You know +not yourself how utterly you are mine. But our wedding has yet to be +celebrated with all the forms. I have some manners, and feel rather +scrupulous. Let us be one for everlasting.” + +“Oh! sir, in my present state, what should I say? For a long, long +while back have I felt, too truly felt, that you were all my fate. +With evil intent you caressed me, loaded me with favours, and made me +rich, in order at length to cast me down. Yesterday, when the black +greyhound bit my poor naked flesh, its teeth scorched me, and I said, +‘’Tis he!’ At night when that daughter of Herodias with her foul +language scared the company, somebody put them up to the promising her +my blood; and that was you!” + +“True; but ’twas I who saved you and brought you hither. I did +everything, as you have guessed. I ruined you, and why? That I might +have you all to myself. To speak frankly, I was tired of your husband. +You took to haggling and pettifogging: far otherwise do I go to work; +I want all or none. This is why I have moulded and drilled you, +polished and ripened you, for my own behoof. Such, you see, is my +delicacy of taste. I don’t take, as people imagine, those foolish +souls who would give themselves up at once. I prefer the choicer +spirits, who have reached a certain dainty stage of fury and despair. +Stop: I must let you know how pleasant you look at this moment. You +are a great beauty, a most desirable soul. I have loved you ever so +long, but now I am hungering for you. + +“I will do things on a large scale, not being one of those husbands +who reckon with their betrothed. If you wanted only riches, you should +have them in a trice. If you wanted to be queen in the stead of Joan +of Navarre, that too, though difficult, should be done, and the King +would not lose much thereby in the matter of pride and haughtiness. My +wife is greater than a queen. But, come, tell me what you wish.” + +“Sir, I ask only for the power of doing evil.” + +“A delightful answer, very delightful! Have I not cause to love you? +In reality those words contain all the law and all the prophets. Since +you have made so good a choice, all the rest shall be thrown in, over +and above. You shall learn all my secrets. You shall see into the +depths of the earth. The whole world shall come and pour out gold at +thy feet. See here, my bride, I give you the true diamond, +_Vengeance_. I know you, rogue; I know your most hidden desires. Ay, +our hearts on that point understand each other well! Therein at least +shall I have full possession of you. You shall behold your enemy on +her knees at your feet, begging and praying for mercy, and only too +happy to earn her release by doing whatever she has made you do. She +will burst into tears; and you will graciously say, _No_: whereon she +will cry, ‘Death and damnation!’ ... Come, I will make this my special +business.” + +“Sir, I am at your service. I was thankless indeed, for you have +always heaped favours on me. I am yours, my master, my god! None other +do I desire. Sweet are your endearments, and very mild your service.” + +And so she worships him, tumbling on all-fours. At first she pays him, +after the forms of the Temple, such homage as betokens the utter +abandonment of the will. Her master, the Prince of this World, the +Prince of the Winds, breathes upon her in his turn, like an eager +spirit. She receives at once the three sacraments, in reverse +order--baptism, priesthood, and marriage. In this new Church, the +exact opposite of the other, everything must be done the wrong way. +Meekly, patiently, she endures the cruel initiation,[35] borne up by +that one word, “Vengeance!” + + [35] This will be explained further on. We must guard against + the pedantic additions of the sixteenth century writers. + + * * * * * + +Far from being crushed or weakened by the infernal thunderbolt, she +arose with an awful vigour and flashing eyes. The moon, which for a +moment had chastely covered herself, took flight on seeing her again. +Blown out to an amazing degree by the hellish vapour, filled with +fire, with fury, and with some new ineffable desire, she grew for a +while enormous with excess of fulness, and displayed a terrible +beauty. She looked around her, and all nature was changed. The trees +had gotten a tongue, and told of things gone by. The herbs became +simples. The plants which yesterday she trod upon as so much hay, were +now as people discoursing on the art of medicine. + +She awoke on the morrow far, very far, from her enemies, in a state of +thorough security. She had been sought after, but they had only found +some scattered shreds of her unlucky green gown. Had she in her +despair flung herself headlong into the torrent? Or had she been +carried off alive by the Devil? No one could tell. Either way she was +certainly damned, which greatly consoled the lady for having failed to +find her. + +Had they seen her they would hardly have known her again, she was so +changed. Only the eyes remained, not brilliant, but armed with a very +strange and a rather deterring glimmer. She herself was afraid of +frightening: she never lowered them, but looked sideways, so that the +full force of their beams might be lost by slanting them. From the +sudden browning of her hue people would have said that she had passed +through the flame. But the more watchful felt that the flame was +rather in herself, that she bore about her an impure and scorching +heat. The fiery dart with which Satan had pierced her was still +there, and, as through a baleful lamp, shot forth a wild, but +fearfully witching sheen. Shrinking from her, you would yet stand +still, with a strange trouble filling your every sense. + +She saw herself at the mouth of one of those troglodyte caves, such as +you find without number in the hills of the Centre and the West of +France. It was in the borderland, then wild, between the country of +Merlin and the country of Melusina. Some moors stretching out of sight +still bear witness to the ancient wars, the unceasing havoc, the many +horrors, which prevented the country being peopled again. There the +Devil was in his home. Of the few inhabitants most were his zealous +worshippers. Whatever attractions he might have found in the rough +brakes of Lorraine, the black pine-forests of the Jura, or the briny +deserts of Burgos, his preferences lay, perhaps, in our western +marches. There might be found not only the visionary shepherd, that +Satanic union of the goat and the goatherd, but also a closer +conspiracy with nature, a deeper insight into remedies and poisons, a +mysterious connection, whose links we know not, with Toledo the +learned, the University of the Devil. + +The winter was setting in: its breath having first stripped the trees, +had heaped together the leaves and small boughs of dead wood. All this +she found prepared for her at the mouth of her gloomy den. By a wood +and moor, half a mile across, you came down within reach of some +villages, which had grown up beside a watercourse. “Behold your +kingdom!” said the voice within her. “To-day a beggar, to-morrow you +shall be queen of the whole land.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE KING OF THE DEAD. + + +At first she was not much affected by promises like these. A lonely +hermitage without God, amidst the great monotonous breezes of the +West, amidst memories all the more ruthless for that mighty solitude, +of such heavy losses, such sharp affronts; a widowhood so hard and +sudden, away from the husband who had left her to her shame--all this +was enough to bow her down. Plaything of fate, she seemed like the +wretched weed upon the moor, having no root, but tossed to and fro, +lashed and cruelly cut by the north-east winds; or rather, perhaps, +like the grey, many-cornered coral, which only sticks fast to get more +easily broken. The children trampled on her; the people said, with a +laugh, “She is the bride of the winds.” + +Wildly she laughed at herself when she thought on the comparison. But, +from the depth of her dark cave, she heard,-- + +“Ignorant and witless, you know not what you say. The plant thus +tossing to and fro may well look down upon the rank and vulgar herbs. +If it tosses, it is, at least, all self-contained--itself both flower +and seed. Do thou be like it; be thine own root, and even in the +whirlwind thou wilt still bear thy blossom: our own flowers for +ourselves, as they come forth from the dust of tombs and the ashes of +volcanoes. + +“To thee, first flower of Satan, do I this day grant the knowledge of +my former name, my olden power. I was, I am, the _King of the Dead_. +Ay, have I not been sadly slandered? ’Tis I who alone can make them +reappear; a boon untold, for which I surely deserved an altar.” + + * * * * * + +To pierce the future and to call up the past, to forestal and to live +again the swift-flying moments, to enlarge the present with that which +has been and that which will be--these are the two things forbidden to +the Middle Ages; but forbidden in vain. Nature is invincible; nothing +can be gained in such a quarter. He who thus errs is _a man_. It is +not for him to be rooted to his furrow, with eyes cast down, looking +nowhere beyond the steps he takes behind his oxen. No: we will go +forward with head upraised, looking further and looking deeper! This +earth that we measure out with so much care, we kick our feet upon +withal, and keep ever saying to it, “What dost thou hold in thy +bowels? What secrets lie therein? Thou givest us back the grain we +entrust to thee; but not that human seed, those beloved dead, we have +lent into thy charge. Our friends, our loves, that lie there, will +they never bud again? Oh, that we might see them, if only for one +hour, if only for one moment! + +“Some day we ourselves shall reach the unknown land, whither they have +already gone. But shall we see them again there? Shall we dwell with +them? Where are they, and what are they doing? They must be kept very +close prisoners, these dear dead of mine, to give me not one token! +And how can I make them hear me? My father, too, whose only hope I +was, who loved me with so mighty a love, why comes he never to me? Ah, +me! on either side is bondage, imprisonment, mutual ignorance; a +dismal night, where we look in vain for one glimmer!”[36] + + [36] The glimmer shines forth in Dumesnil’s _Immortalité_, + and _La Foi Nouvelle_, in the _Ciel et Terre_ of Reynaud, + Henry Martin, &c. + +These everlasting thoughts of Nature, from having in olden times been +simply mournful, became in the Middle Ages painful, bitter, weakening, +and the heart thereby grew smaller. It seems as if they had reckoned +on flattening the soul, on pressing and squeezing it down to the +compass of a bier. The burial of the serf between four deal boards was +well suited to such an end: it haunted one with the notion of being +smothered. A person thus enclosed, if ever he returned in one’s +dreams, would no longer appear as a thin luminous shadow encircled by +a halo of Elysium, but only as the wretched sport of some hellish +griffin-cat. What a hateful and impious idea, that my good, kind +father, my mother so revered by all, should become the plaything of +such a beast! You may laugh now, but for a thousand years it was no +laughing matter: they wept bitterly. And even now the heart swells +with wrath, the very pen grates angrily upon the paper, as one writes +down these blasphemous doings. + + * * * * * + +Moreover, it was surely a cruel device to transfer the Festival of the +Dead from the Spring, where antiquity had placed it, to November. In +May, where it fell at first, they were buried among the flowers. In +March, wherein it was afterwards placed, it became the signal for +labour and the lark. The dead and the seed of corn entered the earth +together with the same hope. But in November, when all the work is +done, the weather close and gloomy for many days to come; when the +folk return to their homes; when a man, re-seating himself by the +hearth, looks across on that place for evermore empty--ah, me! at such +a time how great the sorrow grows! Clearly, in choosing a moment +already in itself so funereal, for the obsequies of Nature, they +feared that a man would not find cause enough of sorrow in himself! + +The coolest, the busiest of men, however taken up they be with life’s +distracting cares, have, at least, their sadder moments. In the dark +wintry morning, in the night that comes on so swift to swallow us up +in its shadow, ten years, nay, twenty years hence, strange feeble +voices will rise up in your heart: “Good morning, dear friend, ’tis +we! You are alive, are working as hard as ever. So much the better! +You do not feel our loss so heavily, and you have learned to do +without us; but we cannot, we never can, do without you. The ranks are +closed, the gap is all but filled. The house that was ours is full, +and we have blessed it. All is well, is better than when your father +carried you about; better than when your little girl said, in her +turn, to you, ‘Papa, carry me.’ But, lo! you are in tears. Enough, +till we meet again!” + +Alas, and are they gone? That wail was sweet and piercing: but was it +just? No. Let me forget myself a thousand times rather than I should +forget them! And yet, cost what it will to say so, say it we must, +that certain traces are fading off, are already less clear to see; +that certain features are not indeed effaced, but grown paler and more +dim. A hard, a bitter, a humbling thought it is, to find oneself so +weak and fleeting, wavering as unremembered water; to feel that in +time one loses that treasure of grief which one had hoped to preserve +for ever. Give it me back, I pray: I am too much bounden to so rich a +fountain of tears. Trace me again, I implore you, those features I +love so well. Could you not help me at least to dream of them by +night? + + * * * * * + +More than one such prayer is spoken in the month of November. And +amidst the striking of the bells and the dropping of the leaves, they +clear out of church, saying one to another in low tones: “I say, +neighbour; up there lives a woman of whom folk speak well and ill. +For myself, I dare say nothing; but she has power over the world +below. She calls up the dead, and they come. Oh, if she might--without +sin, you know, without angering God--make my friends come to me! I am +alone, as you must know, and have lost everything in this world. But +who knows what this woman is, whether of hell or heaven? I won’t go +(he is dying of curiosity all the while); I won’t. I have no wish to +endanger my soul: besides, the wood yonder is haunted. Many’s the time +that things unfit to see have been found on the moor. Haven’t you +heard about Jacqueline, who was there one evening looking for one of +her sheep? Well, when she returned, she was crazy. I won’t go.” + +Thus unknown to each other, many of the men at least went thither. For +as yet the women hardly dared so great a risk. They remark the dangers +of the road, ask many questions of those who return therefrom. The new +Pythoness is not like her of Endor, who raised up Samuel at the prayer +of Saul. Instead of showing you the ghosts, she gives you cabalistic +words and powerful potions to bring them back in your dreams. Ah, how +many a sorrow has recourse to these! The grandmother herself, +tottering with her eighty years, would behold her grandson again. By +an unwonted effort, yet not without a pang of shame at sinning on the +edge of the grave, she drags herself to the spot. She is troubled by +the savage look of a place all rough with yews and thorns, by the +rude, dark beauty of that relentless Proserpine. Prostrate, +trembling, grovelling on the ground, the poor old woman weeps and +prays. Answer there is none. But when she dares to lift herself up a +little, she sees that Hell itself has been a-weeping. + + * * * * * + +It is simply Nature recovering herself. Proserpine blushes +self-indignantly thereat. “Degenerate soul!” she calls herself, “why +this weakness? You came hither with the firm desire of doing nought +but evil. Is this your master’s lesson? How he will laugh at you for +this!” + +“Nay! Am I not the great shepherd of the shades, making them come and +go, opening unto them the gate of dreams? Your Dante, when he drew my +likeness, forgot my attributes. When he gave me that useless tail, he +did not see that I held the shepherd’s staff of Osiris; that from +Mercury I had inherited his caduceus. In vain have they thought to +build up an insurmountable wall between the two worlds; I have wings +to my heels, I have flown over. By a kindly rebellion of that +slandered Spirit, of that ruthless monster, succour has been given to +those who mourned; mothers, lovers, have found comfort. He has taken +pity on them in defiance of their new god.” + +The scribes of the Middle Ages, being all of the priestly class, never +cared to acknowledge the deep but silent changes of the popular mind. +It is clear that from thenceforth compassion goes over to Satan’s +side. The Virgin herself, ideal as she is of grace, makes no answer +to such a want of the heart. Neither does the Church, who expressly +forbids the calling up of the dead. While all books delight in keeping +up either the swinish demon of earlier times, or the griffin butcher +of the second period, Satan has changed his shape for those who cannot +write. He retains somewhat of the ancient Pluto; but his pale nor +wholly ruthless majesty, that permitted the dead to come back, the +living once more to see the dead, passes ever more and more into the +nature of his father, or his grandfather, Osiris, the shepherd of +souls. + +Through this one change come many others. Men with their mouths +acknowledge the hell official and the boiling caldrons; but in their +hearts do they truly believe therein? Would it be so easy to win these +infernal favours for hearts beset with hateful traditions of a hell of +torments? The one idea neutralizes without wholly effacing the other, +and between them grows up a vague mixed image, resembling more and +more nearly the hell of Virgil. A mighty solace was here offered to +the human heart. Blessed above all was the relief thus given to the +poor women, whom that dreadful dogma about the punishment of their +loved dead had kept drowned in tears and inconsolable. The whole of +their lifetime had been but one long sigh. + + * * * * * + +The Sibyl was musing over her master’s words, when a very light step +became audible. The day has scarcely dawned: it is after Christmas, +about the first day of the new year. Over the crisp and rimy grass +approaches a small, fair woman, all a-trembling, who has no sooner +reached the spot, than she swoons and loses her breath. Her black gown +tells plainly of her widowhood. To the piercing gaze of Medea, without +moving or speaking, she reveals all: there is no mystery about her +shrinking figure. The other says to her with a loud voice: “You need +not tell me, little dumb creature, for you would never get to the end +of it. I will speak for you. Well, you are dying of love!” Recovering +a little, she clasps her hands together, and sinking almost on her +knees, tells everything, making a full confession. She had suffered, +wept, prayed, and would have silently suffered on. But these winter +feasts, these family re-unions, the ill-concealed happiness of other +women who, without pity for her, showed off their lawful loves, had +driven the burning arrow again into her heart. Alas, what could she +do? If he might but return and comfort her for one moment! “Be it even +at the cost of my life; let me die, but only let me see him once +more!” + +“Go back to your house: shut the door carefully: put up the shutter +even against any curious neighbour. Throw off your mourning, and put +on your wedding-clothes; place a cover for him on the table; but yet +he will not come. You will sing the song he made for you, and sang to +you so often, but yet he will not come. Then you shall draw out of +your box the last dress he wore, and, kissing it, say, ‘So much the +worse for thee if thou wilt not come!’ And presently when you have +drunk this wine, bitter, but very sleepful, you will lie down as a +wedded bride. Then assuredly he will come to you.” + +The little creature would have been no woman, if next morning she had +not shown her joy and tenderness by owning the miracle in whispers to +her best friend. “Say nought of it, I beg. But he himself told me, +that if I wore this gown and slept a deep sleep every Sunday, he would +return.” + +A happiness not without some danger. Where would the rash woman be, if +the Church learned that she was no longer a widow; that re-awakened by +her love, the spirit came to console her? + +But strange to tell, the secret is kept. There is an understanding +among them all, to hide so sweet a mystery. For who has no concern +therein? Who has not lost and mourned? Who would not gladly see this +bridge created between two worlds? “O thou beneficent Witch! Blessed +be thou, spirit of the nether world!” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE PRINCE OF NATURE. + + +Hard is the long sad winter of the North-west. Even after its +departure it renews its visits, like a drowsy sorrow which ever and +again comes back and rages afresh. One morning everything wakes up +decked with bright needles. In this cruel mocking splendour that makes +one shiver through and through, the whole vegetable world seems turned +mineral, loses its sweet diversity, and freezes into a mass of rough +crystals. + +The poor Sibyl, as she sits benumbed by her hearth of leaves, scourged +by the flaying north-east winds, feels at her heart a cruel pang, for +she feels herself all alone. But that very thought again brings her +relief. With returning pride returns a vigour that warms her heart and +lights up her soul. Intent, quick, and sharp, her sight becomes as +piercing as those needles; and the world, the cruel world that caused +her suffering, is to her transparent as glass. Anon she rejoices over +it, as over a conquest of her making. + +For is she not a queen, a queen with courtiers of her own? The crows +have clearly some connection with her. In grave, dignified body they +come like ancient augurs, to talk to her of passing things. The +wolves passing by salute her timidly with sidelong glances. The bear, +then oftener seen than now, would sometimes, in his heavily +good-natured way, seat himself awkwardly at the threshold of her den, +like a hermit calling on a fellow-hermit, just as we often see him in +the Lives of the Desert Fathers. + +All those birds and beasts with whom men only made acquaintance in +hunting or slaying them, were outlawed as much as she. With all these +she comes to an understanding; for Satan as the chief outlaw, imparts +to his own the pleasures of natural freedom, the wild delight of +living in a world sufficient unto itself. + + * * * * * + +Rough freedom of loneliness, all hail! The whole earth seems still +clothed in a white shroud, held in bondage by a load of ice, of +pitiless crystals, so uniform, sharp, and agonizing. After the year +1200 especially, the world is shut in like a transparent tomb, wherein +all things look terribly motionless, hard, and stiff. + +The Gothic Church has been called a “crystallization;” and so it truly +is. About 1300, architecture gave up all its old variety of form and +living fancies, to repeat itself for evermore, to vie with the +monotonous prisms of Spitzbergen, to become the true and awful +likeness of that hard crystal city, in which a dreadful dogma thought +to bury all life away. + +But for all the props, buttresses, flying-buttresses, that keep the +monument up, one thing there is that makes it totter. There is no loud +battering from without, but a certain softness in the very +foundations, which attacks the crystal with an imperceptible thaw. +What thing do I mean? The humble stream of warm tears shed by a whole +world, until they have become a very sea of wailings. What do I call +it? A breath of the future, a stirring of the natural life, which +shall presently rise again in irresistible might. The fantastic +building of which more than one side is already sinking, says, not +without terror, to itself, “It is the breath of Satan.” + +Beneath this Hecla-glacier lies a volcano which has no need of +bursting out; a mild, slow, gentle heat, which caresses it from below, +and, calling it nearer, says in a whisper, “Come down.” + + * * * * * + +The Witch has something to laugh at, if from the gloom she can see how +utterly Dante and St. Thomas,[37] in the bright light yonder, ignore +the true position of things. They fancy that the Devil wins his way by +cunning or by terror. They make him grotesque and coarse, as in his +childhood, when Jesus could still send him into the herd of swine. Or +else they make him subtle as a logician of the schools, or a +fault-finding lawyer. If he had been no better than this compound of +beast and disputant,--if he had only lived in the mire or on +fine-drawn quibbles about nothing, he would very soon have died of +hunger. + + [37] St. Thomas Aquinas, the “Angelic Doctor,” who died in + 1274.--TRANS. + +People were too ready to crow over him, when he was shewn by +Bartolus[38] pleading against the woman--that is, the Virgin--who gets +him nonsuited and condemned with costs. At that time, indeed, the very +contrary was happening on earth. By a master-stroke of his he had won +over the plaintiff herself, his fair antagonist, the Woman; had +seduced her, not indeed by verbal pleadings, but by arguments not less +real than they were charming and irresistible. He put into her hands +the fruits of science and of nature. + + [38] Bartolus or Bartoli, a lawyer and law-writer of the + fourteenth century.--TRANS. + +No need for controversies, for pleas of any kind: he simply shows +himself. In the East, the new-found Paradise, he begins to work. From +that Asian world, which men had thought to destroy, there springs +forth a peerless day-dawn, whose beams travel afar until they pierce +the deep winter of the West. There dawns on us a world of nature and +of art, accursed of the ignorant indeed, but now at length come +forward to vanquish its late victors in a pleasant war of love and +motherly endearments. All are conquered, all rave about it; they will +have nothing but Asia herself. With her hands full she comes to meet +us. Her tissues, shawls, her carpets so agreeably soft, so wondrously +harmonized, her bright and well-wrought blades, her richly damascened +arms, make us aware of our own barbarism. Moreover, little as that may +seem, these accursed lands of the “miscreant,” ruled by Satan, are +visibly blessed with the fairest fruits of nature, that elixir of the +powers of God; with _the first of vegetables_, coffee; with _the first +of beasts_, the Arab horse. What am I saying?--with a whole world of +treasures, silk, sugar, and a host of herbs all-powerful to relieve +the heart, to soothe and lighten our sufferings. + +All this breaks upon our view about the year 1300. Spain herself, +whose brain is wholly fashioned out of Moors and Jews, for all that +she is again subdued by the barbarous children of the Goth, bears +witness in behalf of those _miscreants_. Wherever the Mussulman +children of the Devil are at work, all is prosperous, the springs well +forth, the ground is covered with flowers. A right worthy and harmless +travail decks it with those wondrous vineyards, through which men +recruit themselves, drowning all care, and seeming to drink in +draughts of very goodness and heavenly compassion. + + * * * * * + +To whom does Satan bring the foaming cup of life? In this fasting +world, which has so long been fasting from reason, what man was there +strong enough to take all this in without growing giddy, without +getting drunken and risking the loss of his wits? + +Is there yet a brain so far from being petrified or crystallized by +the teaching of St. Thomas, as to remain open to the living world, to +its vegetative forces? Three magicians, Albert the Great, Roger Bacon, +Arnaud of Villeneuve,[39] by strong efforts make their way to Nature’s +secrets; but those lusty intellects lack flexibility and popular +power. Satan falls back on his own Eve. The woman is still the most +natural thing in the world; still keeps her hold on those traits of +roguish innocence one sees in a kitten or a child of very high spirit. +Besides, she figures much better in that world-comedy, that mighty +game wherewith the universal Proteus disports himself. + + [39] Three eminent schoolmen of the thirteenth century, whose + scientific researches pointed the way to future + discoveries.--TRANS. + +But being light and changeful, she is all the less liable to be carked +and hardened by pain! This woman, whom we have seen outlawed from the +world, and rooted on her wild moor, affords a case in point. Have we +yet to learn whether, bruised and soured as she is, with her heart +full of hate, she will re-enter the natural world and the pleasant +paths of life? Assuredly her return thither will not find her in good +tune, will happen mainly through a round of ill. In the coming and +going of the storm she is all the more scared and violent for being so +very weak. + +When in the mild warmth of spring, from the air, the depths of the +earth, from the flowers and their languages, a new revelation rises +round her on every side, she is taken dizzy at the first. Her +swelling bosom overflows. The Sibyl of science has her tortures, like +her of Cumæ or of Delphi. The schoolmen find their fun in saying, “It +is the wind and nought else that blows her out. Her lover, the Prince +of the Air, fills her with dreams and delusions, with wind, with +smoke, with emptiness.” Foolish irony! So far from this being the true +cause of her drunkenness, it is nothing empty, it is a real, a +substantial thing, which has loaded her bosom all too quickly. + + * * * * * + +Have you ever seen the agave, that hard wild African shrub, so sharp, +bitter, and tearing, with huge bristles instead of leaves? Ten years +through it loves and dies. At length one day the amorous shoot, which +has so long been gathering in the rough thing, goes off with a noise +like gunfire, and darts skyward. And this shoot becomes a whole tree, +not less than thirty feet high, and bristling with sad flowers. + +Some such analogy does the gloomy Sibyl feel, when one morning of a +spring-time, late in coming, and therefore impetuous at the last, +there takes place all around her a vast explosion of life. + +And all things look at her, and all things bloom for her. For every +thing that has life says softly, “Whoso understands me, I am his.” + +What a contrast! Here is the wife of the desert and of despair, bred +up in hate and vengeance, and lo! all these innocent things agree to +smile upon her! The trees, soothed by the south wind, pay her gentle +homage. Each herb of the field, with its own special virtue of scent, +or remedy, or poison--very often the three things are one--offers +itself to her, saying, “Gather me.” + +All things are clearly in love. “Are they not mocking me? I had been +readier for hell than for this strange festival. O spirit, art thou +indeed that spirit of dread whom once I knew, the traces of whose +cruelty I bear about me--what am I saying, and where are my +senses?--the wound of whose dealing scorches me still? + +“Ah, no! ’Tis not the spirit whom I hoped for in my rage; ‘_he who +always says, No!_’ This other one utters a yes of love, of drunken +dizziness. What ails him? Is he the mad, the dazed soul of life? + +“They spoke of the great Pan as dead. But here he is in the guise of +Bacchus, of Priapus, eager with long-delayed desire, threatening, +scorching, teeming. No, no! Be this cup far from me! Trouble only +should I drink from it,--who knows? A despair yet sharper than my past +despairs.” + +Meanwhile wherever the woman appears, she becomes the one great object +of love. She is followed by all, and for her sake all despise their +own proper kind. What they say about the black he-goat, her pretended +favourite, may be applied to all. The horse neighs for her, breaking +everything and putting her in danger. The awful king of the prairie, +the black bull, bellows with grief, should she pass him by at a +distance. And, behold, yon bird despondingly turns away from his hen, +and with whirring wings hastes to convince the woman of his love! + +Such is the new tyranny of her master, who, by the funniest hap of +all, foregoes the part accredited to him as king of the dead, to burst +forth a very king of life. + +“No!” she says; “leave me to my hatred: I ask for nothing more. Let me +be feared and fearful! The beauty I would have, is only that which +dwells in these black serpents of my hair, in this countenance +furrowed with grief, and the scars of thy thunderbolt.” But the Lord +of Evil replies with cunning softness: “Oh, but you are only the more +beautiful, the more impressible, for this fiery rage of yours! Ay, +call out and curse on, beneath one and the same goad! ’Tis but one +storm calling another. Swift and smooth is the passage from wrath to +pleasure.” + +Neither her fury nor her pride would have saved her from such +allurements. But she is saved by the boundlessness of her desire. +There is nought will satisfy her. Each kind of life for her is all too +bounded, wanting in power. Away from her, steed and bull and loving +bird! Away, ye creatures all! for one who desires the Infinite, how +weak ye are! + +She has a woman’s longing; but for what? Even for the whole, the great +all-containing whole. Satan did not foresee that no one creature would +content her. + +That which he could not do, is done for her in some ineffable way. +Overcome by a desire so wide and deep, a longing boundless as the sea, +she falls asleep. At such a moment, all else forgot, no touch of hate, +no thought of vengeance left in her, she slumbers on the plain, +innocent in her own despite, stretched out in easy luxuriance like a +sheep or a dove. + +She sleeps, she dreams; a delightful dream! It seemed as if the +wondrous might of universal life had been swallowed up within her; as +if life and death and all things thenceforth lay fast in her bowels; +as if in return for all her suffering, she was teeming at last with +Nature herself. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE DEVIL A PHYSICIAN. + + +That still and dismal scene of the Bride of Corinth, is repeated +literally from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century. While it was +yet night, just before the daybreak, the two lovers, Man and Nature, +meet again, embrace with rapture, and, at that same moment--horrible +to tell!--behold themselves attacked by fearful plagues. We seem still +to hear the loved one saying to her lover, “It is all over: thy hair +will be white to-morrow. I am dead, and thou too wilt die.” + +Three dreadful blows happen in these three centuries. In the first we +have a loathsome changing of the outer man, diseases of the skin, +above all, leprosy. In the second, the evil turns inwards, becomes a +grotesque excitement of the nerves, a fit of epileptic dancing. Then +all grows calm, but the blood is changed, and ulcers prepare the way +for syphilis, the scourge of the fifteenth century. + + * * * * * + +Among the chief diseases of the Middle Ages, so far as one can look +therein, to speak generally, had been hunger, weakness, poverty of +blood, that kind of consumption which is visible in the sculptures of +that time. The blood was like clear water, and scrofulous ailments +were rife everywhere. Barring the well-paid doctors, Jew or Arab, of +the kings, the art of medicine was practised only with, holy water at +the church door. Thither on Sundays, after the service, would come a +crowd of sick, to whom words like these were spoken: “You have sinned +and God has afflicted you. Be thankful: so much the less will you +suffer in the next world. Resign yourselves to suffer and to die. The +Church has prayers for the dead.” Weak, languishing, hopeless, with no +desire to live, they followed this counsel faithfully, and let life go +its way. + +A fatal discouragement, a wretched state of things, that would have +prolonged without end these ages of lead, and debarred them from all +progress! Worst of all things is it to resign oneself so readily, to +welcome death with so much docility, to have strength for nothing, to +desire nothing. Of more worth was that new era, that close of the +Middle Ages, which at the cost of cruel sufferings first enabled us to +regain our former energy; namely, _the resurrection of desire_. + + * * * * * + +Some Arab writers have asserted that the widespread eruption of +skin-diseases which marks the thirteenth century, was caused by the +taking of certain stimulants to re-awaken and renew the defaults of +passion. Undoubtedly the burning spices brought over from the East, +tended somewhat to such an issue. The invention of distilling and of +divers fermented drinks may also have worked in the same direction. + +But a greater and far more general fermentation was going on. During +the sharp inward struggle between two worlds and two spirits, a third +surviving silenced both. As the fading faith and the newborn reason +were disputing together, somebody stepping between them caught hold of +man. You ask who? A spirit unclean and raging, the spirit of sour +desires, bubbling painfully within. + +Debarred from all outlet, whether of bodily enjoyment, or the free +flow of soul, the sap of life thus closely rammed together, was sure +to corrupt itself. Bereft of light, of sound, of speech, it spoke +through pains and ominous excrescences. Then happened a new and +dreadful thing. The desire put off without being diminished, finds +itself stopped short by a cruel enchantment, a shocking +metamorphosis.[40] Love was advancing blindly with open arms. It +recoils groaning; but in vain would it flee: the fire of the blood +keeps raging; the flesh eats itself away in sharp titillations, and +sharper within rages the coal of fire, made fiercer by despair. + + [40] Leprosy has been traced to Asia and the Crusades; but + Europe had it in herself. The war declared by the Middle Ages + against the flesh and all cleanliness bore its fruits. More + than one saint boasted of having never washed even his hands. + And how much did the rest wash? To have stripped for a moment + would have been sinful. The worldlings carefully follow the + teaching of the monks. This subtle and refined society, which + sacrificed marriage and seemed inspired only with the poetry + of adultery, preserved a strange scruple on a point so + harmless. It dreaded all cleansing, as so much defilement. + There was no bathing for a thousand years! + +What remedy does Christian Europe find for this twofold ill? Death and +captivity; nothing more. When the bitter celibacy, the hopeless love, +the passion irritable and ever-goading, bring you into a morbid state; +when your blood is decomposing, then you shall go down into an _In +pace_, or build your hut in the desert. You must live with the +handbell in your hand, that all may flee before you. “No human being +must see you: no consolation may be yours. If you come near, ’tis +death.” + + * * * * * + +Leprosy is the last stage, the _apogee_ of this scourge; but a +thousand other ills, less hideous but still cruel, raged everywhere. +The purest and the most fair were stricken with sad eruptions, which +men regarded as sin made visible, or the chastisement of God. Then +people did what the love of life had never made them do: they forsook +the old sacred medicine, the bootless holy water, and went off to the +Witch. From habit and fear as well, they still repaired to church; but +thenceforth their true church was with her, on the moor, in the +forest, in the desert. To her they carried their vows. + +Prayers for healing, prayers for pleasure. On the first effervescing +of their heated blood, folk went to the Sibyl, in great secrecy, at +uncertain hours. “What shall I do? and what is this I feel within me? +I burn: give me some lenitive. I burn: grant me that which causes my +intolerable desire.” + +A bold, a blamable journey, for which they reproach themselves at +night. Let this new fatality be never so urgent, this fire be never so +torturing, the Saints themselves never so powerless; still, have not +the indictment of the Templars and the proceedings of Pope Boniface +unveiled the Sodom lying hid beneath the altar? But a wizard Pope, a +friend of the Devil, who also carried him away, effects a change in +all their ideas. Was it not with the Demon’s help that John XXII., the +son of a shoemaker, a Pope no more of Rome, succeeded in amassing in +his town of Avignon more gold than the Emperor and all the kings? As +the Pope is, so is the bishop. Did not Guichard, Bishop of Troyes, +procure from the Devil the death of the King’s daughters? No death we +ask for--we; but pleasant things--for life, for health, for beauty, +and for pleasure: the things of God which God refuses. What shall we +do? Might we but win them through the grace of the _Prince of this +World_! + + * * * * * + +When the great and mighty doctor of the Renaissance, Paracelsus, cast +all the wise books of ancient medicine into the fire, Latin, and +Jewish, and Arabic, all at once, he declared that he had learned none +but the popular medicine, that of the _good women_,[41] the +_shepherds_, and the _headsmen_, the latter of whom made often good +horse-doctors and clever surgeons, resetting bones broken or put out +of joint. + + [41] The name given in fear and politeness to the witches. + +I make no doubt but that his admirable and masterly work on _The +Diseases of Women_--the first then written on a theme so large, so +deep, so tender--came forth from his special experience of those women +to whom others went for aid; of the witches, namely, who always acted +as the midwives: for never in those days was a male physician admitted +to the woman’s side, to win her trust in him, to listen to her +secrets. The witches alone attended her, and became, especially for +women, the chief and only physician. + + * * * * * + +What we know for surest with regard to their medicinal practice is, +that for ends the most different, alike to stimulate and to soothe, +they made use of one large family of doubtful and very dangerous +plants, called, by reason of the services they rendered, _The +Comforters_, or Solaneæ.[42] + + [42] Man’s ingratitude is painful to see. A thousand other + plants have come into use: a hundred exotic vegetables have + become the fashion. But the good once done by these poor + _Comforters_ is clean forgotten!--Nay, who now remembers or + even acknowledges the old debt of humanity to harmless + nature? The _Asclepias acida_, _Sarcostemma_, or flesh-plant, + which for five thousand years was the _Holy Wafer_ of the + East, its very palpable God, eaten gladly by five hundred + millions of men,--this plant, in the Middle Ages called the + Poison-queller (_vince-venenum_), meets with not one word of + historical comment in our books of Botany. Perhaps two + thousand years hence they will forget the wheat. See Langlois + on the _Soma_ of India and the _Hom_ of Persia. _Mem. de + l’Académie des Inscriptions_, xix. 326. + +A vast and popular family, many kinds of which abound to excess under +our feet, in the hedges, everywhere--a family so numerous that of one +kind alone we have eight hundred varieties.[43] There is nothing +easier, nothing more common, to find. But these plants are mostly +dangerous in the using. It needs some boldness to measure out a dose, +the boldness, perhaps, of genius. + + [43] M. d’Orbigny’s _Dictionary of Natural History_, article + _Morelles_. + +Let us, step by step, mount the ladder of their powers.[44] The first +are simply pot-herbs, good for food, such as the mad-apples and the +tomatoes, miscalled “love-apples.” Other, of the harmless kinds, are +sweetness and tranquillity itself, as the white mullens, or lady’s +fox-gloves, so good for fomentations. + + [44] I have found this ladder nowhere else. It is the more + important, because the witches who made these essays at the + risk of passing for poisoners, certainly began with the + weakest, and rose gradually to the strongest. Each step of + power thus gives its relative date, and helps us in this dark + subject to set up a kind of chronology. I shall complete it + in the following chapters, when I come to speak of the + Mandragora and the Datura. I have chiefly followed Pouchet’s + _Solanées_ and _Botanique Générale_. + +Going higher up, you come on a plant already suspicious, which many +think a poison, a plant which at first seems like honey and afterwards +tastes bitter, reminding one of Jonathan’s saying, “I have eaten a +little honey, and therefore shall I die.” But this death is +serviceable, a dying away of pain. The “bittersweet” should have been +the first experiment of that bold homœopathy which rose, little by +little, up to the most dangerous poisons. The slight irritation and +the tingling which it causes might point it out as a remedy for the +prevalent diseases of that time, those, namely, of the skin. + +The pretty maiden who found herself woefully adorned with uncouth red +patches, with pimples, or with ringworm, would come crying for such +relief. In the case of an elder woman the hurt would be yet more +painful. The bosom, most delicate thing in nature, with its innermost +vessels forming a matchless flower, becomes, through its injective and +congestive tendencies, the most perfect instrument for causing pain. +Sharp, ruthless, restless are the pains she suffers. Gladly would she +accept all kinds of poison. Instead of bargaining with the Witch, she +only puts her poor hard breast between her hands. + +From the bittersweet, too weak for such, we rise to the dark +nightshades, which have rather more effect. For a few days the woman +is soothed. Anon she comes back weeping. “Very well, to-night you may +come again. I will fetch you something, as you wish me; but it will be +a strong poison.” + +It was a heavy risk for the Witch. At that time they never thought +that poisons could act as remedies, if applied outwardly or taken in +very weak doses. The plants they compounded together under the name of +_witches’ herbs_, seemed to be but ministers of death. Such as were +found in her hands would have proved her, in their opinion, a poisoner +or a dealer in accursed charms. A blind crowd, all the more cruel for +its growing fears, might fell her with a shower of stones, or make her +undergo the trial by water--the _noyade_. Or even--most dreadful doom +of all!--they might drag her with a rope round her neck to the +churchyard, where a pious festival was held and the people edified by +seeing her thrown to the flames. + +However, she runs the risk, and fetches home the dreadful plant. The +other woman comes back to her abode by night or morning, whenever she +is least afraid of being met. But a young shepherd, who saw her there, +told the village, “If you had seen her as I did, gliding among the +rubbish of the ruined hut, looking about her on all sides, muttering I +know not what! Oh, but she has frightened me very much! If she had +seen me, I was a lost man. She would have changed me into a lizard, a +toad, or a bat. She took a paltry herb--the paltriest I ever saw--of a +pale sickly yellow, with red and black marks, like the flames, as they +say, of hell. The horror of the thing is, that the whole stalk was +hairy like a man, with long, black, sticky hairs. She plucked it +roughly, with a grunt, and suddenly I saw her no more. She could not +have run away so quick; she must have flown. What a dreadful thing +that woman is! How dangerous to the whole country!” + +Certainly the plant inspires dread. It is the henbane, a cruel and +dangerous poison, but a powerful emollient, a soft sedative poultice, +which melts, unbends, lulls to sleep the pain, often taking it quite +away. + +Another of these poisons--the Belladonna, so called, undoubtedly, in +thankful acknowledgment, had great power in laying the convulsions +that sometimes supervened in childbirth, and added a new danger, a new +fear, to the danger and the fear of that most trying moment. A +motherly hand instilled the gentle poison, casting the mother herself +into a sleep, and smoothing the infant’s passage, after the manner of +the modern chloroform, into the world.[45] + + [45] Madame La Chapelle and M. Chaussier have renewed to good + purpose these practices of the older medicine. Pouchet, + _Solanées_. + +Belladonna cures the dancing-fits while making you dance. A daring +homœopathy this, which at first must frighten: it is _medicine +reversed_, contrary in most things to that which alone the Christians +studied, which alone they valued, after the example of the Jews and +Arabs. + +How did men come to this result? Undoubtedly by the simple effect of +the great Satanic principle, that _everything must be done the wrong +way_, the very opposite way to that followed by the holy people. These +latter have a dread of poisons. Satan uses them and turns them into +remedies. The Church thinks by spiritual means, by sacraments and +prayers, to act even on the body. Satan, on the other hand, uses +material means to act even upon the soul, making you drink of +forgetfulness, love, reverie, and every passion. To the blessing of +the priest he opposes the magnetic passes made by the soft hands of +women, who cheat you of your pains. + + * * * * * + +By a change of system, and yet more of dress, as in the substitution +of linen for wool, the skin-diseases lost their intensity. Leprosy +abated, but seemed to go inwards and beget deeper ills. The fourteenth +century wavered between three scourges--the epileptic dancings, the +plague, and the sores which, according to Paracelsus, led the way to +syphilis. + +The first danger was not the least. About 1350 it broke out in a +frightful manner with the dance of St. Guy, and was singular +especially in this, that it did not act upon each person separately. +As if carried on by one same galvanic current, the sick caught each +other by the hand, formed immense chains, and spun and spun round till +they died. The spectators, who laughed at first, presently catching +the contagion, let themselves go, fell into the mighty current, +increased the terrible choir. + +What would have happened if the evil had held on as long as leprosy +did even in its decline? + +It was the first step, as it were, towards epilepsy. If that +generation of sufferers had not been cured, it would have begotten +another decidedly epileptic. What a frightful prospect! Think of +Europe covered with fools, with idiots, with raging madmen! We are not +told how the evil was treated and checked. The remedy prescribed by +most, the falling upon these jumpers with kicks and cuffings, was +entirely fitted to increase the frenzy and turn it into downright +epilepsy.[46] Doubtless there was some other remedy, of which people +were loth to speak. At the time when witchcraft took its first great +flight, the widespread use of the _Solaneæ_, above all, of belladonna, +vulgarized the medicine which really checked those affections. At the +great popular gatherings of the Sabbath, of which we shall presently +speak, the _witches’ herb_, mixed with mead, beer, cider,[47] or perry +(the strong drinks of the West), set the multitude dancing a dance +luxurious indeed, but far from epileptic. + + [46] We should think that few physicians would quite agree + with M. Michelet.--TRANS. + + [47] Cider was first made in the twelfth century. + + * * * * * + +But the greatest revolution caused by the witches, the greatest step +_the wrong way_ against the spirit of the Middle Ages, was what may be +called the reënfeoffment of the stomach and the digestive organs. They +had the boldness to say, “There is nothing foul or unclean.” +Thenceforth the study of matter was free and boundless. Medicine +became a possibility. + +That this principle was greatly abused, we do not deny; but the +principle is none the less clear. There is nothing foul but moral +evil. In the natural world all things are pure: nothing may be +withheld from our studious regard, nothing be forbidden by an idle +spiritualism, still less by a silly disgust. + +It was here especially that the Middle Ages showed themselves in their +true light, as _anti-natural_, out of Nature’s oneness drawing +distinctions of castes, of priestly orders. Not only do they count the +spirit _noble_, and the body _ignoble_; but even parts of the body are +called noble, while others are not, being evidently plebeian. In like +manner heaven is noble, and hell is not; but why?--“Because heaven is +high up.” But in truth it is neither high nor low, being above and +beneath alike. And what is hell? Nothing at all. Equally foolish are +they about the world at large and the smaller world of men. + +This world is all one piece: each thing in it is attached to all the +rest. If the stomach is servant of the brain and feeds it, the brain +also works none the less for the stomach, perpetually helping to +prepare for it the digestive _sugar_.[48] + + [48] This great discovery was made by Claude Bernard. + + * * * * * + +There was no lack of injurious treatment. The witches were called +filthy, indecent, shameless, immoral. Nevertheless, their first steps +on that road may be accounted as a happy revolution in things most +moral, in charity and kindness. With a monstrous perversion of ideas +the Middle Ages viewed the flesh in its representative, +woman,--accursed since the days of Eve--as a thing impure. The Virgin, +exalted as _Virgin_ more than as _Our Lady_, far from lifting up the +real woman, had caused her abasement, by setting men on the track of a +mere scholastic puritanism, where they kept rising higher and higher +in subtlety and falsehood. + +Woman herself ended by sharing in the hateful prejudice and deeming +herself unclean. She hid herself at the hour of childbed. She blushed +at loving and bestowing happiness on others. Sober as she mostly was +in comparison with man, living as she mostly did on herbs and fruits, +sharing through her diet of milk and vegetables the purity of the most +innocent breeds, she almost besought forgiveness for being born, for +living, for carrying out the conditions of her life. + + * * * * * + +The medical art of the Middle Ages busied itself peculiarly about the +man, a being noble and pure, who alone could become a priest, alone +could make God at the altar. It also paid some attention to the +beasts, beginning indeed with them; but of children it thought seldom: +of women not at all. + +The romances, too, with their subtleties pourtray the converse of the +world. Outside the courts and highborn adulterers, which form the +chief topic of these romances, the woman is always a poor Griselda, +born to drain the cup of suffering, to be often beaten, and never +cared for. + +In order to mind the woman, to trample these usages under foot, and to +care for her in spite of herself, nothing less would serve than the +Devil, woman’s old ally, her trusty friend in Paradise, and the Witch, +that monster who deals with everything the wrong way, exactly +contrariwise to that of the holier people. The poor creature set such +little store by herself. She would shrink back, blushing, and loth to +say a word. The Witch being clever and evil-hearted, read her to the +inmost depths. Ere long she won her to speak out, drew from her her +little secret, overcame her refusals, her modest, humble hesitations. +Rather than undergo the remedy, she was willing almost to die. But the +cruel sorceress made her live. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +CHARMS AND PHILTRES. + + +Let no one hastily conclude from the foregoing chapter that I attempt +to whiten, to acquit entirely, the dismal bride of the Devil. If she +often did good, she could also do no small amount of ill. There is no +great power which is not abused. And this one had three centuries of +actual reigning, in the interlude between two worlds, the older dying +and the new struggling painfully to begin. The Church, which in the +quarrels of the sixteenth century will regain some of her strength, at +least for fighting, in the fourteenth is down in the mire. Look at the +truthful picture drawn by Clémangis. The nobles, so proudly arrayed in +their new armour, fall all the more heavily at Crécy, Poitiers, +Agincourt. All who survive end by being prisoners in England. What a +theme for ridicule! The citizens, the very peasants make merry and +shrug their shoulders. This general absence of the lords gave, I +fancy, no small encouragement to the Sabbath gatherings which had +always taken place, but at this time might first have grown into vast +popular festivals. + +How mighty the power thus wielded by Satan’s sweetheart, who cures, +foretels, divines, calls up the souls of the dead; who can throw a +spell upon you, turn you into a hare or wolf, enable you to find a +treasure, and, best of all, ensure your being beloved! It is an awful +power which combines all others. How could a stormy soul, a soul most +commonly gangrened, and sometimes grown utterly wayward, have helped +employing it to wreak her hate and revenge; sometimes even out of a +mere delight in malice and uncleanness? + +All that once was told the confessor, is now imparted to her: not only +the sins already done, but those also which folk purpose doing. She +holds each by her shameful secret, by the avowal of her uncleanest +desires. To her they entrust both their bodily and mental ills; the +lustful heats of a blood inflamed and soured; the ceaseless prickings +of some sharp, urgent, furious desire. + +To her they all come: with her there is no shame. In plain blunt words +they beseech her for life, for death, for remedies, for poisons. +Thither comes a young woman, to ask through her tears for the means of +saving her from the fruits of her sin. Thither comes the +step-mother--a common theme in the Middle Ages--to say that the child +of a former marriage eats well and lives long. Thither comes the +sorrowing wife whose children year by year are born only to die. And +now, on the other hand, comes a youth to buy at any cost the burning +draught that shall trouble the heart of some haughty dame, until, +forgetful of the distance between them, she has stooped to look upon +her little page. + + * * * * * + +In these days there are but two types, two forms of marriage, both of +them extreme and outrageous. + +The scornful heiress of a fief, who brings her husband a crown or a +broad estate, an Eleanor of Guyenne for instance, will, under her +husband’s very eyes, hold her court of lovers, keeping herself under +very slight control. Let us leave romances and poems, to look at the +reality in its dread march onward to the unbridled rage of the +daughters of Philip the Fair, of the cruel Isabella, who by the hands +of her lovers impaled Edward II. The insolence of the feudal women +breaks out diabolically in the triumphant two-horned bonnet and other +brazen-faced fashions. + +But in this century, when classes are beginning to mingle slightly, +the woman of a lower rank, when she marries a lord, has to fear the +hardest trials. So says the truthful history of the humble, the meek, +the patient Griselda. In a more popular form it becomes the tale of +_Blue-Beard_, a tale which seems to me quite earnest and historical. +The wife so often killed and replaced by him could only have been his +vassal. He would have reckoned wholly otherwise with the daughter or +sister of a baron, who might avenge her. If I am not misled by a +specious conjecture, we must believe that this tale is of the +fourteenth century, and not of those preceding, in which the lord +would never have deigned to take a wife below himself. + +Specially remarkable in the moving tale of _Griselda_ is the fact, +that throughout her heavy trials, she never seeks support in being +devout or in loving another. She is evidently faithful, chaste, and +pure. It never comes into her mind to love elsewhere. + +Of the two feudal women, the Heiress and Griselda, it is peculiarly +the first who has her household of gentlemen, her courts of love, who +shows favour to the humblest lovers, encouraging them, delivering, as +Eleanor did, the famous sentence, soon to become quite classical: +“There can be no love between married folk.” + +Thereupon a secret hope, but hot and violent withal, arises in more +than one young heart. If he must give himself to the Devil, he will +rush full tilt on this adventurous intrigue. Let the castle be never +so surely closed, one fine opening is still left for Satan. In a game +so perilous, what chance of success reveals itself? Wisdom answers, +None. But what if Satan said, Yes? + +We must remember how great a distance feudal pride set between the +nobles themselves. Words are misleading: one _cavalier_ might be far +below another. + +The knight banneret, who brought a whole army of vassals to his king’s +side, would look with utter scorn from one end of his long table on +the poor _lackland_ knights seated at the other. How much greater his +scorn for the simple varlets, grooms, pages, &c., fed upon his +leavings! Seated at the lowermost end of the tables close to the door, +they scraped the dishes sent down to them, often empty, from the +personages seated above beside the hearth. It never would cross the +great lord’s mind, that those below would dare to lift eyes of fancy +towards their lovely mistress, the haughty heiress of a fief, sitting +near her mother, “crowned by a chaplet of white roses.” Whilst he bore +with wondrous patience the love of some stranger knight, appointed by +his lady to bear her colours, he would have savagely punished the +boldness of any servant who looked so high. Of this kind was the +raging jealousy shown by the Lord of Fayel, who was stirred to deadly +wrath, not because his wife had a lover, but because that lover was +one of his household, the castellan or simple constable of his castle +of Coucy. + +The deeper and less passable seemed the gulf between the great +heiress, lady of the manor, and the groom or page who, barring his +shirt, had nothing, not even his coat, but what belonged to his +master, the stronger became love’s temptation to overleap that gulf. + +The youth was buoyed up by the very impossibility. At length, one day +that he managed to get out of the tower, he ran off to the Witch and +asked her advice. Would a philtre serve as a spell to win her? Or, +failing that, must he make an express covenant? He never shrank at all +from the dreadful idea of yielding himself to Satan. “We will take +care for that, young man: but hie thee up again; you will find some +change already.” + + * * * * * + +The change, however, is in himself. He is stirred by some ineffable +hope, that escapes in spite of him from a deep downcast eye, scored by +an ever-darting flame. Somebody, we may guess who, having eyes for him +alone, is moved to throw him, as she passes, a word of pity. Oh, +rapture! Kind Satan! Charming, adorable Witch! + +He cannot eat nor drink until he has been to see the latter again. +Respectfully kissing her hand, he almost falls at her feet. Whatever +she may ask him, whatever she may bid him do, he will obey her. That +moment, if she wishes it, he will give her his golden chain, will give +her the ring upon his finger, though he had it from a dying mother. +But the Witch, in her native malice, in her hatred of the Baron, feels +an especial comfort in dealing him a secret blow. + +Already a vague anxiety disturbs the castle. A dumb tempest, without +lightning or thunder, broods over it, like an electric vapour on a +marsh. All is silence, deep silence; but the lady is troubled. She +suspects that some supernatural power has been at work. For why indeed +be thus drawn to this youth, more than to some one else, handsomer, +nobler, renowned already for deeds of arms? There is something toward, +down yonder! Has that woman cast a spell upon her, or worked some +hidden charm? The more she asks herself these questions, the more her +heart is troubled. + + * * * * * + +The Witch has something to wreak her malice upon at last. In the +village she was a queen; but now the castle comes to her, yields +itself up to her on that side where its pride ran the greatest risk. +For us this passion has a peculiar interest, as the rush of one soul +towards its ideal against every social harrier, against the unjust +decree of fate. To the Witch, on her side, it holds out the deep, keen +delight of humbling the lady’s pride, and revenging perhaps her own +wrongs; the delight of serving the lord as he served his vassals, of +levying upon him, through the boldness of a mere child, the +firstfruits of his outrageous wedding-rights. Undoubtedly, in these +intrigues where the Witch had to play her part, she often acted from a +depth of levelling hatred natural to a peasant. + +Already it was something gained to have made the lady stoop to love a +menial. We should not be misled by such examples as John of Saintré +and Cherubin. The serving-boy filled the lowest offices in the +household. The footman proper did not then exist, while on the other +hand, few, if any maidservants lived in military strongholds. Young +hands did everything, and were not disgraced thereby. The service, +specially the body-service of the lord and lady, honoured and raised +them up. Nevertheless, it often placed the highborn page in situations +sorrowful enough, prosaic, not to say ridiculous. The lord never +distresses himself about that. And the lady must indeed be charmed by +the Devil, not to see what every day she saw, her well-beloved +employed in servile and unsuitable tasks. + + * * * * * + +In the Middle Ages the very high and the very low are continually +brought together. That which is hidden by the poems, we can catch a +glimpse of otherwhere. With those ethereal passions, many gross things +were clearly blended. + +All we know of the charms and philtres used by the witches is very +fantastic, not seldom marked by malice, and recklessly mixed up with +things that seem to us the least likely to have awakened love. By +these methods they went a long way without the husband’s perceiving in +his blindness the game they made of him. + +These philtres were of various kinds. Some were for exciting and +troubling the senses, like the stimulants so much abused in the East. +Others were dangerous, and often treacherous draughts to whose +illusions the body would yield itself without the will. Others again +were employed as tests when the passion was defied, when one wished to +see how far the greediness of desire might derange the senses, making +them receive as the highest and holiest of favours, the most +disagreeable services done by the object of their love. + +The rude way in which a castle was constructed, with nothing in it but +large halls, led to an utter sacrifice of the inner life. It was long +enough before they took to building in one of the turrets a closet or +recess for meditation and the saying of prayers. The lady was easily +watched. On certain days set or waited for, the bold youth would +attempt the stroke, recommended him by the Witch, of mingling a +philtre with her drink. + +This, however, was a dangerous matter, not often tried. Less difficult +was it to purloin from the lady things which escaped her notice, which +she herself despised. He would treasure up the very smallest paring of +a nail; he would gather up respectfully one or two beautiful hairs +that might fall from her comb. These he would carry to the Witch, who +often asked, as our modern sleep-wakers do, for something very +personal and strongly redolent of the person, but obtained without her +leave; as, for instance, some threads torn out of a garment long worn +and soiled with the traces of perspiration. With much kissing, of +course, and worshipping, the lover was fain reluctantly to throw these +treasures into the fire, with a view to gathering up the ashes +afterwards. By and by, when she came to look at her garment, the fine +lady would remark the rent, but guessing at the cause, would only sigh +and hold her tongue. The charm had already begun to work. + + * * * * * + +Even if she hesitated from regard for her marriage-vow, certain it is +that life in a space so narrow, where they were always in each +other’s sight, so near and yet so far, became a downright torment. And +even when she had once shown her weakness, still before her husband +and others equally jealous the moments of happiness would assuredly be +rare. Hence sprang many a foolish outbreak of unsatisfied desire. The +less they came together, the more deeply they longed to do so. A +disordered fancy sought to attain that end by means grotesque, +unnatural, utterly senseless. So by way of establishing a means of +secret correspondence between the two, the Witch had the letters of +the alphabet pricked on both their arms. If one of them wanted to send +a thought to the other, he brightened and brought out by sucking the +blood-red letters of the wished-for word. Immediately, so it is said, +the corresponding letters bled on the other’s arm. + +Sometimes in these mad fits they would drink each of the other’s +blood, so as to mingle their souls, it was said, in close communion. +The devouring of Coucy’s heart, which the lady “found so good that she +never ate again,” is the most tragical instance of these monstrous +vows of loving cannibalism. But when the absent one did not die, but +only the love within him, then the lady would seek counsel of the +Witch, begging of her the means of holding him, of bringing him back. + +The incantations used by the sorceress of Theocritus and Virgil, +though employed also in the Middle Ages, were seldom of much avail. An +attempt was made to win back the lover by a spell seemingly copied +from antiquity, by means of a cake, of a _confarreatio_[49] like that +which, both in Asia and Europe, had always been the holiest pledge of +love. But in this case it is not the soul only, it is the flesh also +they seek to bind; there must be so true an identity established +between the two, that, dead to all other women, he shall live only for +her. It was a cruel ceremony on the woman’s side. “No haggling, +madam,” says the Witch. Suddenly the proud dame grows obedient, even +to letting herself be stripped bare: for thus indeed it must be. + + [49] One form of wedding among the Romans, in which the + bride-cake was broken between the pair, in token of their + union.--TRANS. + +What a triumph for the Witch! And if this lady were the same as she +who had once made her “run the gauntlet,” how meet the vengeance, how +dread the requital now! But it is not enough to have stripped her thus +naked. About her loins is fastened a little shelf, on which a small +oven is set for the cooking of the cake. “Oh, my dear, I cannot bear +it longer! Make haste, and relieve me.” + +“You must bear it, madam; you must feel the heat. When the cake is +done, he will be warmed by you, by your flame.” + +It is over; and now we have the cake of antiquity, of the Indian and +the Roman marriage, but spiced and warmed up by the lecherous spirit +of the Devil. She does not say with Virgil’s wizard,[50] + + “Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnin!” + + [50] “Hither, ye spells of mine, bring Daphnis home from the + city!”--_Virgil_, Eclogue viii. + +But she takes him the cake, steeped, as it were, in the other’s +suffering, and kept warm by her love. He has hardly bitten it when he +is overtaken by an odd emotion, by a feeling of dizziness. Then as the +blood rushes up to his heart he turns red and hot. Passion fastens +anew on him, and inextinguishable desire.[51] + + [51] I am wrong in saying inextinguishable. Fresh philtres + were often needed; and the blame of this must lie with the + lady, from whom the Witch in her mocking, malignant rage + exacted the most humiliating observances. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE REBELS’ COMMUNION--SABBATHS--THE BLACK MASS. + + +We must now speak of the _Sabbaths_; a word which at different times +clearly meant quite different things. Unhappily, we have no detailed +accounts of these gatherings earlier than the reign of Henry IV.[52] +By that time they were nothing more than a great lewd farce carried on +under the cloak of witchcraft. But these very descriptions of a thing +so greatly corrupted are marked by certain antique touches that tell +of the successive periods and the different forms through which it had +passed. + + [52] The least bad of these is by Lancre, a man of some wit, + whose evident connection with some young witches gave him + something to say. The accounts of the Jesuit Del Rio and the + Dominican Michaëlis are the absurd productions of two + credulous and silly pedants. + + * * * * * + +We may set out with this firm idea that, for many centuries, the serf +led the life of a wolf or a fox; that he was _an animal of the night_, +moving about, I may say, as little as possible in the daytime, and +truly living in the night alone. + +Still, up to the year 1000, so long as the people made their own +saints and legends, their daily life was not to them uninteresting. +Their nightly Sabbaths were only a slight relic of paganism. They +held in fear and honour the Moon, so powerful over the good things of +earth. Her chief worshippers, the old women, burn small candles to +_Dianom_--the Diana of yore, whose other names were Luna and Hecate. +The Lupercal (or wolf-man) is always following the women and children, +disguised indeed under the dark face of ghost Hallequin (Harlequin). +The Vigil of Venus was kept as a holiday precisely on the first of +May. On Midsummer Day they kept the Sabaza by sacrificing the he-goat +of Bacchus Sabasius. In all this there was no mockery; nothing but a +harmless carnival of serfs. + +But about the year 1000 the church is well-nigh shut against the +peasant through the difference between his language and hers. By 1100 +her services became quite unintelligible. Of the mysteries played at +the church-doors, he has retained chiefly the comic side, the ox and +the ass, &c. On these he makes Christmas carols, which grow ever more +and more burlesque, forming a true Sabbatic literature. + + * * * * * + +Are we to suppose that the great and fearful risings of the twelfth +century had no influence on these mysteries, on this night-life of the +_wolf_, the _game bird_, the _wild quarry_. The great sacraments of +rebellion among the serfs, when they drank of each other’s blood, or +ate of the ground by way of solemn pledge,[53] may have been +celebrated at the Sabbaths. The “Marseillaise” of that time, sung by +night rather than day, was perhaps a Sabbatic chant:-- + + “Nous sommes hommes commes ils sont! + Tout aussi grand cœur nous avons! + Tout autant souffrir nous pouvons!”[54] + + [53] At the battle of Courtray. See also Grimm and my + _Origines_. + + [54] + + “We are fashioned of one clay: + Big as theirs our hearts are aye: + We can bear as much as they.”--TRANS. + +But the tombstone falls again in 1200. Seated thereon the Pope and the +King, with their enormous weight, have sealed up man. Has he now his +old life by night? More than ever. The old pagan dances must by this +time have waxed furious. Our negroes of the Antilles, after a dreadful +day of heat and hard work, would go and dance away some four leagues +off. So it was with the serf too. But with his dances there must have +mingled a merriment born of revenge, satiric farces, burlesques and +caricatures of the baron and the priest: a whole literature of the +night indeed, that knew not one word of the literature of the day, +that knew little even of the burgher Fabliaux. + + * * * * * + +Of such a nature were the Sabbaths before 1300. Before they could take +the startling form of open warfare against the God of those days, much +more was needed still, and especially these two things: not only a +descending into the very depths of despair, but also _an utter losing +of respect for anything_. + +To this pass they do not come until the fourteenth century, under the +Avignon popes, and during the Great Schism; when the Church with two +heads seems no longer a church; when the king and all his nobles, +being in shameful captivity to the English, are extorting the means of +ransom from their oppressed and outraged people. Then do the Sabbaths +take the grand and horrible form of the _Black Mass_, of a ritual +upside down, in which Jesus is defied and bidden to thunder on the +people if He can. In the thirteenth century this devilish drama was +still impossible, through the horror it would have caused. And later +again, in the fifteenth, when everything, even suffering itself, had +become exhausted, so fierce an outburst could not have issued forth; +so monstrous an invention no one would have essayed. It could only +have belonged to the age of Dante. + + * * * * * + +It took place, I fancy, at one gush; an explosion as it were of genius +raving, bringing impiety up to the height of a great popular +passion-fit. To understand the nature of these bursts of rage, we must +remember that, far from imagining the fixedness of God’s laws, a +people brought up by their own clergy to believe and depend on +miracles, had for ages past been hoping and waiting for nothing else +than a miracle which never came. In vain they demanded one in the +desperate hour of their last worst strait. Heaven thenceforth appeared +to them as the ally of their savage tormentors, nay, as itself a +tormentor too. + +Thereon began the _Black Mass_ and the _Jacquerie_.[55] + + [55] The Peasants’ war which raged in France in 1364. + +In the elastic shell of the Black Mass, a thousand variations of +detail may afterwards have been inserted; but the shell itself was +strongly made and, in my opinion, all of one piece. + +This drama I succeeded in reproducing in my “History of France,” in +the year 1857. There was small difficulty in casting it anew in its +four acts. Only at that time I left in it too many of the grotesque +adornments which clothed the Sabbath of a later period; nor did I +clearly enough define what belonged to the older shell, so dark and +dreadful. + + * * * * * + +Its date is strongly marked by certain savage tokens of an age +accursed, and yet more by the ruling place therein assigned to woman, +a fact most characteristic of the fourteenth century. + +It is strange to mark how, at that period, the woman who enjoys so +little freedom still holds her royal sway in a hundred violent +fashions. At this time she inherits fiefs, brings her kingdoms to the +king. On the lower levels she has still her throne, and yet more in +the skies. Mary has supplanted Jesus. St. Francis and St. Dominic have +seen the three worlds in her bosom. By the immensity of her grace she +washes away sin; ay, and sometimes helps the sinner,--as in the story +of a nun whose place the Virgin took in the choir, while she herself +was gone to meet her lover. + +Up high, and down very low, we see the woman. Beatrice reigns in +heaven among the stars, while John of Meung in the _Romaunt of the +Rose_ is preaching the community of women. Pure or sullied, the woman +is everywhere. We might say of her what Raymond Lulle said of God: +“What part has He in the world? The whole.” + +But alike in heaven and in poetry the true heroine is not the fruitful +mother decked out with children; but the Virgin, or some barren +Beatrice, who dies young. + +A fair English damsel passed over into France, it is said, about the +year 1300, to preach the redemption of women. She looked on herself as +their Messiah. + + * * * * * + +In its earliest phase the Black Mass seemed to betoken this redemption +of Eve, so long accursed of Christianity. The woman fills every office +in the Sabbath. She is priestess, altar, pledge of holy communion, by +turns. Nay, at bottom, is she not herself as God? + + * * * * * + +Many popular traits may be found herein, and yet it comes not wholly +from the people. The peasant who honoured strength alone, made small +account of the woman; as we see but too clearly in our old laws and +customs. From him the woman would not have received the high place she +holds here. It is by her own self the place is won. + +I would gladly believe that the Sabbath in its then shape was woman’s +work, the work of such a desperate woman as the Witch was then. In the +fourteenth century she saw open before her a horrible career of +torments lighted up for three or four hundred years by the stake. +After 1300 her medical knowledge is condemned as baleful, her remedies +are proscribed as if they were poisons. The harmless drawing of lots, +by which lepers then thought to better their luck, brought on a +massacre of those poor wretches. Pope John XXII. ordered the burning +of a bishop suspected of Witchcraft. Under a system of such blind +repression there was just the same risk in daring little as in daring +much. Danger itself made people bolder; and the Witch was able to dare +anything. + + * * * * * + +Human brotherhood, defiance of the Christian heaven, a distorted +worship of nature herself as God--such was the purport of the Black +Mass. + +They decked an altar to the arch-rebel of serfs, _to Him who had been +so wronged_, the old outlaw, unfairly hunted out of heaven, “the +Spirit by whom earth was made, the Master who ordained the budding of +the plants.” Such were the names of honour given him by his +worshippers, the _Luciferians_, and also, according to a very likely +opinion, by the Knights of the Temple. + +The greatest miracle of those unhappy times is, the greater abundance +found at the nightly communion of the brotherhood, than was to be +found elsewhere by day. By incurring some little danger the Witch +levied her contributions from those who were best off, and gathered +their offerings into a common fund. Charity in a Satanic garb grew +very powerful, as being a crime, a conspiracy, a form of rebellion. +People would rob themselves of their food by day for the sake of the +common meal at night. + + * * * * * + +Figure to yourself, on a broad moor, and often near an old Celtic +cromlech, at the edge of a wood, this twofold scene: on one side a +well-lit moor and a great feast of the people; on the other, towards +yon wood, the choir of that church whose dome is heaven. What I call +the choir is a hill commanding somewhat the surrounding country. +Between these are the yellow flames of torch-fires, and some red +brasiers emitting a fantastic smoke. At the back of all is the Witch, +dressing up her Satan, a great wooden devil, black and shaggy. By his +horns, and the goatskin near him, he might be Bacchus; but his manly +attributes make him a Pan or a Priapus. It is a darksome figure, seen +differently by different eyes; to some suggesting only terror, while +others are touched by the proud melancholy wherein the Eternally +Banished seems absorbed.[56] + + [56] This is taken from Del Rio, but is not, I think, + peculiar to Spain. It is an ancient trait, and marked by the + primitive inspiration. + + * * * * * + +Act First. The magnificent _In troit_ taken by Christendom from +antiquity, that is, from those ceremonies where the people in long +train streamed under the colonnades on their way to the sanctuary, is +now taken back for himself by the elder god upon his return to power. +The _Lavabo_, likewise borrowed from the heathen lustrations, +reappears now. All this he claims back by right of age. + +His priestess is always called, by way of honour, the Elder; but she +would sometimes have been young. Lancre tells of a witch of seventeen, +pretty, and horribly savage. + +The Devil’s bride was not to be a child: she must be at least thirty +years old, with the form of a Medea, with the beauty that comes of +pain; an eye deep, tragic, lit up by a feverish fire, with great +serpent tresses waving at their will: I refer to the torrent of her +black untamable hair. On her head, perhaps, you may see the crown of +vervein, the ivy of the tomb, the violets of death. + +When she has had the children taken off to their meal, the service +begins: “I will come before thine altar; but save me, O Lord, from the +faithless and violent man (from the priest and the baron).” + +Then come the denial of Jesus, the paying of homage to the new master, +the feudal kiss, like the greetings of the Temple, when all was +yielded without reserve, without shame, or dignity, or even purpose; +the denial of an olden god being grossly aggravated by a seeming +preference for Satan’s back. + +It is now his turn to consecrate his priestess. The wooden deity +receives her in the manner of an olden Pan or Priapus. Following the +old pagan form she sits a moment upon him in token of surrender, like +the Delphian seeress on Apollo’s tripod. After receiving the breath of +his spirit, the sacrament of his love, she purifies herself with like +formal solemnity. Thenceforth she is a living altar. + + * * * * * + +The Introit over, the service is interrupted for the feast. Contrary +to the festive fashion of the nobles, who all sit with their swords +beside them, here, in this feast of brethren, are no arms, not even a +knife. + +As a keeper of the peace, each has a woman with him. Without a woman +no one is admitted. Be she a kinswoman or none, a wife or none; be she +old or young, a woman he must bring with him. + +What were the drinks passed round among them? Mead, or beer, or wine; +strong cider or perry? The last two date from the twelfth century. + +The illusive drinks, with their dangerous admixture of belladonna, did +they already appear at that board? Certainly not. There were children +there. Besides, an excess of commotion would have prevented the +dancing. + +This whirling dance, the famous _Sabbath-round_, was quite enough to +complete the first stage of drunkenness. They turned back to back, +their arms behind them, not seeing each other, but often touching each +other’s back. Gradually no one knew himself, nor whom he had by his +side. The old wife then was old no more. Satan had wrought a miracle. +She was still a woman, desirable, after a confused fashion beloved. + + * * * * * + +Act Second. Just as the crowd, grown dizzy together, was led, both by +the attraction of the women and by a certain vague feeling of +brotherhood, to imagine itself one body, the service was resumed at +the _Gloria_. The altar, the host, became visible. These were +represented by the woman herself. Prostrate, in a posture of extreme +abasement, her long black silky tresses lost in the dust; she, this +haughty Proserpine, offered up herself. On her back a demon +officiated, saying the _Credo_, and making the offering.[57] + + [57] This important fact of the woman being her own altar, is + known to us by the trial of La Voisin, which M. Ravaisson, + Sen., is about to publish with the other _Papers of the + Bastille_. + +At a later period this scene came to be immodest. But at this time, +amidst the calamities of the fourteenth century, in the terrible days +of the Black Plague, and of so many a famine, in the days of the +Jacquerie and those hateful brigands, the Free Lances,--on a people +thus surrounded by danger, the effect was more than serious. The whole +assembly had much cause to fear a surprise. The risk run by the Witch +in this bold proceeding was very great, even tantamount to the +forfeiting of her life. Nay, more; she braved a hell of suffering, of +torments such as may hardly be described. Torn by pincers, and broken +alive; her breasts torn out; her skin slowly singed, as in the case +of the wizard bishop of Cahors; her body burned limb by limb on a +small fire of red-hot coal, she was like to endure an eternity of +agony. + +Certainly all were moved when the prayer was spoken, the +harvest-offering made, upon this devoted creature who gave herself up +so humbly. Some wheat was offered to the _Spirit of the Earth_, who +made wheat to grow. A flight of birds, most likely from the woman’s +bosom, bore to the _God of Freedom_ the sighs and prayers of the +serfs. What did they ask? Only that we, their distant descendants, +might become free.[58] + + [58] This grateful offering of wheat and birds is peculiar to + France. In Lorraine, and no doubt in Germany, black beasts + were offered, as the black cat, the black goat, or the black + bull. + +What was the sacrament she divided among them? Not the ridiculous +pledge we find later in the reign of Henry IV., but most likely that +_confarreatio_ which we saw in the case of the philtres, the hallowed +pledge of love, a cake baked on her own body, on the victim who, +perhaps, to-morrow would herself be passing through the fire. It was +her life, her death, they ate there. One sniffs already the scorching +flesh. + +Last of all they set upon her two offerings, seemingly of flesh; two +images, one of _the latest dead_, the other of the newest-born in the +district. These shared in the special virtue assigned to her who acted +as altar and Host in one, and on these the assembly made a show of +receiving the communion. Their Host would thus be threefold, and +always human. Under a shadowy likeness of the Devil the people +worshipped none other than its own self. + +The true sacrifice was now over and done. The woman’s work was ended, +when she gave herself up to be eaten by the multitude. Rising from her +former posture, she would not withdraw from the spot until she had +proudly stated, and, as it were, confirmed the lawfulness of her +proceedings by an appeal to the thunderbolt, by an insolent defiance +of the discrowned God. + +In mockery of the _Agnus Dei_, and the breaking of the Christian Host, +she brought a toad dressed up, and pulled it to pieces. Then rolling +her eyes about in a frightful way she raised them to heaven, and +beheading the toad, uttered these strange words: “Ah, _Philip_,[59] if +I had you here, you should be served in the same manner!” + + [59] Lancre, 136. Why “Philip,” I cannot say. By Satan Jesus + is always called John or _Janicot_ (Jack). Was she speaking + of Philip of Valois, who brought on the wasting hundred + years’ war with England? + + * * * * * + +No answer being outwardly given to her challenge, no thunderbolt +hurled upon her head, they imagine that she has triumphed over the +Christ. The nimble band of demons seized their moment to astonish the +people with various small wonders which amazed and overawed the more +credulous. The toads, quite harmless in fact, but then accounted +poisonous, were bitten and torn between their dainty teeth. They +jumped over large fires and pans of live coal, to amuse the crowd and +make them laugh at the fires of Hell. + +Did the people really laugh after a scene so tragical, so very bold? I +know not. Assuredly there was no laughing on the part of her who first +dared all this. To her these fires must have seemed like those of the +nearest stake. Her business rather lay in forecasting the future of +that devilish monarchy, in creating the Witch to be. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE SEQUEL--LOVE AND DEATH--SATAN DISAPPEARS. + + +And now the multitude is made free, is of good cheer. For some hours +the serf reigns in short-lived freedom. His time indeed is scant +enough. Already the sky is changing, the stars are going down. Another +moment, and the cruel dawn remits him to his slavery, brings him back +again under hostile eyes, under the shadow of the castle, beneath the +shadow of the church; back again to his monotonous toiling, to the old +unending weariness of heart, governed as it were by two bells, whereof +one keeps saying “Always,” the other “Never.” Anon they will be seen +coming each out of his own house, heavily, humbly, with an air of calm +composure. + +Let them at least enjoy the one short moment! Let each of these +disinherited, for once fulfil his fancy, for once indulge his musings. +What soul is there so all unhappy, so lost to all feeling, as never to +have one good dream, one fond desire; never to say, “If this would +only happen!” + +The only detailed accounts we have, as I said before, are modern, +belonging to a time of peace and well-doing, when France was blooming +afresh, in the latter years of Henry VI., years of thriving luxury, +entirely different from that dark age when the Sabbath was first set +going. + +No thanks to Mr. Lancre and others, if we refrain from pourtraying the +Third Act as like the Church-Fair of Rubens, a very miscellaneous +orgie, a great burlesque ball, which allowed of every kind of union, +especially between near kindred. According to those authors, who would +make us groan with horror, the main end of the Sabbath, the explicit +doctrine taught by Satan, was incest; and in those great gatherings, +sometimes of two thousand souls, the most startling deeds were done +before the whole world. + +This is hard to believe; and the same writers tell of other things +which seem quite opposed to a view so cynical. They say that people +went to those meetings only in pairs, that they sat down to the feast +by twos, that even if one person came alone, she was assigned a young +demon, who took charge of her, and did the honours of the feast. They +say, too, that jealous lovers were not afraid to go thither in company +with the curious fair. + +We also find that the most of them came by families, children and all. +The latter were sent off only during the first act, not during the +feast, nor the services, nor yet while this third act was going on; a +fact which proves that some decency was observed. Moreover, the scene +was twofold. The household groups stayed on the moor in a blaze of +light. It was only beyond the fantastic curtain of torch-smoke that +the darker spaces, where people could roam in all directions, began. + +The judges, the inquisitors, for all their enmity, are fain to allow +the existence here of a general spirit of peace and mildness. Of the +three things that startle us in the feasts of nobles, there is not one +here; no swords, no duels, no tables reeking blood. No faithless +gallantries here bring dishonour on some intimate friend. Unknown, +unneeded here, for all they say, is the unclean brotherhood of the +Temple; in the Sabbath, woman is everything. + +The question of incest needs explaining. All alliances between +kinsfolk, even those most allowable in the present day, were then +regarded as a crime. The modern law, which is charity itself, +understands the heart of man and the well-being of families.[60] It +allows the widower to marry his wife’s sister, the best mother his +children could have. Above all, it allows a man to wed his cousin, +whom he knows and may trust fully, whom he has loved perhaps from +childhood, his playfellow of old, regarded by his mother with special +favour as already the adopted of her own heart. In the Middle Ages all +this was incestuous. + + [60] Of course the allusion here, as shown in the next + following sentence, is to French law in particular. As for + the marriage of cousins, there is much to say on both sides + of the question.--TRANS. + +The peasant being fondest of his own family was driven to despair. It +was a monstrous thing for him to marry a cousin, even in the sixth +degree. It was impossible for him to get married in his own village +where the question of kinship stood so much in his way. He had to look +for a wife elsewhere, afar off. But in those days there was not much +intercourse or acquaintance between different places, and each hated +its own neighbours. On feast days one village would fight another +without knowing the reason why, as may sometimes still be seen in +countries never so thinly peopled. No one durst go seek a wife in the +very spot where men had been fighting together, where he himself would +have been in great danger. + +There was another difficulty. The lord of the young serf forbade his +marrying in the next lordship. Becoming the serf of his wife’s lord he +would have been wholly lost to his own. Thus he was debarred by the +priest from his cousin, by the lord from a stranger; and so it +happened that many did not marry at all. + +The result was just what they pretended to avoid. In the Sabbath the +natural sympathies sprang forth again. There the youth found again her +whom he had known and loved at first, her whose “little husband” he +had been called at ten years old. Preferring her as he certainly did, +he paid but little heed to canonical hindrances. + +When we come to know the Mediæval Family better, we give up believing +the declamatory assumptions of a general mingling together of the +people forming so great a crowd. On the contrary, we feel that each +small group is so closely joined together, as to be utterly barred to +the entrance of a stranger. + +The serf was not jealous towards his own kin, but his poverty and +wretchedness made him exceedingly afraid of worsening his lot by +multiplying children whom he could not support. The priest and the +lord on their part wished to increase the number of their +serfs--wanted the woman to be always bearing; and the strangest +sermons were often delivered on this head,[61] varied sometimes with +threats and cruel reproaches. All the more resolute was the prudence +of the man. The woman, poor creature, unable to bear children fit to +live on such conditions, bearing them only to her sorrow, had a horror +of being made big. She never would have ventured to one of these night +festivals without being first assured, again and again, that no woman +ever came away pregnant.[62] + + [61] The ingenious M. Génin has very recently collected the + most curious information on this point. + + [62] Boguet, Lancre, and other authors, are agreed on this + question. + +They were drawn thither by the banquet, the dancing, the lights, the +amusements; in nowise by carnal pleasure. The last thing they cared +for was to heighten their poverty, to bring one more wretch into the +world, to give another serf to their lord. + + * * * * * + +Cruel indeed was the social system of those days. Authority bade men +marry, but rendered marriage nearly impossible, at once by the +excessive misery of most, and the senseless cruelty of the canonical +prohibitions. + +The result was quite opposed to the purity thus preached. Under a show +of Christianity existed the patriarchate of Asia alone. + +Only the firstborn married. The younger brothers and sisters worked +under him and for him. In the lonely farms of the mountains of the +South, far from all neighbours and every woman, brothers and sisters +lived together, the latter serving and in all ways belonging to the +former; a way of life analogous to that in Genesis, to the marriages +of the Parsees, to the customs still obtaining in certain shepherd +tribes of the Himalayas. + +The mother’s fate was still more revolting. She could not marry her +son to a kinswoman, and thus secure to herself a kindly-affected +daughter-in-law. Her son married, if he could, a girl from a distant +village, an enemy often, whose entrance proved baneful either to the +children of a former marriage, or to the poor mother, who was often +driven away by the stranger wife. You may not think it, but the fact +is certainly so. At the very least she was ill-used; banished from the +fireside, from the very table. + +There is a Swiss law forbidding the removal of the mother from her +place by the chimney-corner. + +She was exceedingly afraid of her son’s marrying. But her lot was +little happier if he did not marry. None the less servant was she of +the young master of the house, who succeeded to all his father’s +rights, even to that of beating her. This impious custom I have seen +still followed in the South: a son of five-and-twenty chastising his +mother when she got drunk. + + * * * * * + +How much greater her suffering in those days of savagery! Then it was +rather he who came back from the feast half-drunken, hardly knowing +what he was about. But one room, but one bed, was all they had between +them. She was by no means free from fear. He had seen his friends +married, and felt soured thereat. Thenceforth her way is marked by +tears, by utter weakness, by a woful self-surrender. Threatened by her +only God, her son, heart-broken at finding herself in a plight so +unnatural, she falls desperate. She tries to drown all her memories in +sleep. At length comes an issue for which neither of them can fairly +account, an issue such as nowadays will often happen in the poorer +quarters of large towns, where some poor woman is forced, frightened, +perhaps beaten, into bearing every outrage. Thus conquered, and, spite +of her scruples, far too resigned, she endured thenceforth a pitiable +bondage; a life of shame and sorrow, and abundant anguish, growing +with the yearly widening difference between their several ages. The +woman of six-and-thirty might keep watch over a son of twenty years: +but at fifty, alas! or still later, where would he be? From the great +Sabbath where thronged the people of far villages, he would be +bringing home a strange woman for his youthful mistress, a woman hard, +heartless, devoid of ruth, who would rob her of her son, her seat by +the fire, her bed, of the very house which she herself had made. + +To believe Lancre and others, Satan accounted the son for +praiseworthy, if he kept faithful to his mother, thus making a virtue +of a crime. If this be true, we must assume that the woman was +protected by a woman, that the Witch sided with the mother, to defend +her hearth against a daughter-in-law who, stick in hand, would have +sent her forth to beg. + +Lancre further maintains that “never was good Witch, but she sprang +from the love of a mother for her son.” In this way, indeed, was born +the Persian soothsayer, the natural fruit, they say, of so hateful a +mystery; and thus the secrets of the magical art were kept confined to +one family which constantly renewed itself. + +An impious error led them to imitate the harmless mystery of the +husbandman, the unceasing vegetable round whereby the corn resown in +the furrow, brings forth its corn. + +The less monstrous unions of brother with sister, so common in the +East, and in Greece, were cold and rarely fruitful. They were wisely +abandoned; nor would people ever have returned to them, but for that +rebellious spirit which, being aroused by absurd restrictions, flung +itself foolishly into the opposite extreme. Thus from unnatural laws, +hatred begot unnatural customs. + +A cruel, an accursed time, a time big with despair! + + * * * * * + +We have been long discoursing; but the dawn is well-nigh come. In a +moment the hour will strike for the spirits to take themselves away. +The Witch feels her dismal flowers already withering on her brow. +Farewell, her royalty, perhaps her life! Where would they be, if the +day still found her there? + +Of Satan, what shall she make? A flame, a cinder? He asks for nothing +better; knowing well, in his craftiness, that the only way to live and +to be born again, is first to die. + +And will he die, he who as the mighty summoner of the dead, granted to +them that mourn their only joy on earth, the love they had lost, the +dream they had cherished? Ah, no! he is very sure to live. + +Will he die, he that mighty spirit who, finding Creation accurst, and +Nature lying cold upon the ground, flung thither like a dirty +foster-child from off the Church’s garment, gathered her up and placed +her on his bosom? In truth it cannot be. + +Will he die, he the one great physician of the Middle Ages, of a +world that, falling sick, was saved by his poisons and bidden, poor +fool, to live? + +As the gay rogue is sure of living, he dies wholly at his ease. He +shuffles out of himself, cleverly burns up his fine goatskin, and +disappears in a blaze of dawn. + +But _she_ who made Satan, who made all things, good or ill, whose +countenance was given to so many forms of love, of devotion, and of +crime,--to what end will she come? Behold her all lonely on her waste +moorland. + +She is not, as they say, the dread of all. Many will bless her. More +than one have found her beautiful, would sell their share in Paradise +to dare be near her. But all around her is a wide gulf. They who +admire, are none the less afraid of this all-powerful Medea, with her +fair deep eyes, and the thrilling adders of her dark overflowing hair. + +To her thus lonely for ever, for evermore without love, what is there +left? Nothing but the Demon who had suddenly disappeared. + +“’Tis well, good Devil, let us go. I am utterly loath to stay here any +more. Hell itself is far preferable. Farewell to the world!” + +She must live but a very little longer, to play out the dreadful drama +she had herself begun. Near her, ready saddled by the obedient Satan, +stood a huge black horse, the fire darting from his eyes and nostrils. +She sprang upon him with one bound. + +They follow her with their eyes. The good folk say with alarm, “What +is to become of her?” With a frightful burst of laughter, she goes +off, vanishing swift as an arrow. They would like much to know what +becomes of the poor woman, but that they never will.[63] + + [63] See the end of the Witch of Berkeley, as told by William + of Malmesbury. + + + + +BOOK II. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE WITCH IN HER DECLINE--SATAN MULTIPLIED AND MADE COMMON. + + +The Devil’s delicate fondling, the lesser Witch, begotten of the Black +Mass after the greater one’s disappearance, came and bloomed in all +her malignant cat-like grace. This woman is quite the reverse of the +other: refined and sidelong in manner, sly and purring demurely, quick +also at setting up her back. There is nothing of the Titan about her, +to be sure. Far from that, she is naturally base; lewd from her cradle +and full of evil daintinesses. Her whole life is the expression of +those unclean thoughts which sometimes in a dream by night may assail +him who would shrink with horror from any such by day. + +She who is born with such a secret in her blood, with such instinctive +mastery of evil, she who has looked so far and so low down, will have +no religion, no respect for anything or person in the world; none even +for Satan, since he is a spirit still, while she has a particular +relish for all things material. + +In her childhood she spoiled everything. Tall and pretty she startled +all by her slovenly habits. With her Witchcraft becomes a mysterious +cooking up of some mysterious chemistry. From an early date she +delights to handle repulsive things, to-day a drug, to-morrow an +intrigue. Among diseases and love-affairs she is in her element. She +will make a clever go-between, a bold and skilful empiric. War will be +made against her as a fancied murderer, as a woman who deals in +poisons. And yet she has small taste for such things, is far from +murderous in her desires. Devoid of goodness, she yet loves life, +loves to work cures, to prolong others’ lives. She is dangerous in two +ways: on the one hand by selling receipts for barrenness, and even for +abortion; while on the other, her headlong libertine fancy leads her +to compass a woman’s fall with her cursed potions, to triumph in the +wicked deeds of love. + +Different, indeed, is this one from the other! She is a manufacturer: +the other was the ungodly one, the demon, the great rebellion, the +wife, we might almost say, the mother of Satan; for out of her and her +inward strength he grew up. But this one is the Devil’s daughter +notwithstanding. Two things she derives from him, her uncleanness, her +love of handling life. These are her allotted walk, in these she is +quite an artist; an artist already trading in her lore, and we are +admitted into the business. + +It was said that she would perpetuate herself by the incest from which +she sprang. But she has no need of that: numberless little ones will +she beget without help from another. In less than fifty years, at the +opening of the fifteenth century, under Charles VI., a mighty +contagion was spread abroad. Whoever thought he had any secrets or any +receipts, whoever fancied himself a seer, whoever dreamed and +travelled in his dreams, would call himself a pet of Satan. Every +moonstruck woman adopted the awful name of Witch! + +A perilous, profitable name, cast at her in their hatred by people who +alternately insult and implore the unknown power. It is none the less +accepted, nay, is often claimed. To the children who follow her, to +the woman who, with threatening fists, hurl the name at her like a +stone, she turns round, saying proudly, “’Tis true, you have said +well!” + +The business improves, and men are mingled in it. Hence another fall +for the art. Still the least of the witches retains somewhat of the +Sibyl. Those other frowsy charlatans, those clownish jugglers, +mole-catchers, ratkillers, who throw spells over beasts, who sell +secrets which they have not, defiled these times with the stench of a +dismal black smoke, of fear and foolery. Satan grows enormous, gets +multiplied without end. ’Tis a poor triumph, however, for him. He +grows dull and sick at heart. Still the people keep flowing towards +him, bent on having no other God than he. Himself only is to himself +untrue. + + * * * * * + +In spite of two or three great discoveries, the fifteenth century is, +to my thinking, none the less a century tired out, a century of few +ideas. + +It opened right worthily with the Sabbath Royal of St. Denis, the wild +and woful ball given by Charles VI. in the abbey so named, to +commemorate the burial of Du Guesclin, which had taken place so many +years before. For three days and nights was Sodom wallowing among the +graves. The foolish king, not yet grown quite an idiot, compelled his +royal forefathers to share in the ball, by making their dry bones +dance in their biers. Death, becoming a go-between whether he would or +no, lent a sharp spur to the voluptuous revel. Then broke out those +unclean fashions of an age when ladies made themselves taller by +wearing the Devil’s horned-bonnet, and gloried in dressing as if they +were all with child.[64] To this fashion they clung for the next forty +years. The younger folk on their side, not to be behind in +shamelessness, eclipsed them in the display of naked charms. The woman +wore Satan on her forehead in the shape of a horned head-dress: on the +feet of the bachelor and the page he was visible in the tapering +scorpion-like tips of their shoes. Under the mask of animals they +represented the lowest side of brute nature. The famous child stealer, +Retz, here took his first flight in villany. The great feudal ladies, +unbridled Jezebels, with less sense of shame in them than the men, +scorned all disguise whatever; displayed themselves with face +uncovered. In their sensual rages, in their mad parade of debauchery, +the king, the whole company might see the bottomless pit itself +yawning for the life, the feeling, the body, and the soul of each. + + [64] Even in a very mystic theme, in a work of such genius as + the _Lamb_ of Van Eyck (says John of Bruges), all the Virgins + seem big. It was only the quaint fashion of the fifteenth + century. + +Out of such doings come forth the conquered of Agincourt, a poor +generation of effete nobles, in whose miniatures you shiver to see the +falling away of their sorry limbs, as shown through the treacherous +tightness of their clothes.[65] + + [65] This wasting away of a used-up, enervated race, mars the + effect of all those splendid miniatures of the Court of + Burgundy, the Duke of Berry, &c. No amount of clever handling + could make good works of art out of subjects so very + pitiable. + + * * * * * + +Much to be pitied is the Witch who, when the great lady came home from +that royal feast, became her bosom-counsellor and agent charged with +the doing of impossible things. + +In her own castle, indeed, the lady is almost, if not all alone, +amidst a crowd of single men. To judge from romances you would think +she delighted in girding herself with an array of fair girls. Far +otherwise are we taught by history and common sense. Eleanor is not +so silly as to match herself against Rosamond. With all their own +rakishness, those queens and great ladies could be frightfully +jealous; witness she who is said by Henry Martin to have caused the +death of a girl admired by her husband, under the outrageous handling +of his soldiery. The power wielded by the lady’s love depends, we +repeat, on her being alone. Whatever her age and figure, she becomes +the dream of all. The Witch takes mischievous delight in making her +abuse her goddesship, in tempting her to make game of the men she +humbles and befools. She goes to all lengths of boldness, even +treating them like very beasts. Look at them being transformed! Down +on all fours they tumble, like fawning monkeys, absurd bears, lewd +dogs, or swine eager to follow their contemptuous Circé. + +Her pity rises thereat? Nay, but she grows sick of it all, and kicks +those crawling beasts with her foot. The thing is impure, but not +heinous enough. An absurd remedy is found for her complaint. These +others being so nought, she is to have something yet more +nought--namely, a little sweetheart. The advice is worthy of the +Witch. Love’s spark shall be lighted before its time in some young +innocent, sleeping the pure sleep of childhood! Here you have the ugly +tale of little John of Saintré, pink of cherubim, and other paltry +puppets of the Age of Decay. + +Through all those pedantic embellishments and sentimental +moralizings, one clearly marks the vile cruelty that lies below. The +fruit was killed in the flower. Here, in a manner, is the very “eating +of children,” which was laid so often to the Witch’s charge. Anyhow, +she drained their lives. The fair lady who caresses one in so tender +and motherly a way, what is she but a vampire, draining the blood of +the weak? The upshot of such atrocities we may gather from the tale +itself. Saintré becomes a perfect knight, but so utterly frail and +weak as to be dared and defied by the lout of a peasant priest, in +whom the lady, become better advised, has seen something that will +suit her best. + + * * * * * + +Such idle whimsies heighten the surfeit, the mad rage of an empty +mind. Circé among her beasts grows so weary and heartsick that she +would be a beast herself. She fancies herself wild, and locks herself +up. From her tower she casts an evil eye towards the gloomy forest. +She fancies herself a prisoner, and rages like a wolf chained fast. +“Let the old woman come this moment: I want her. Run!” Two minutes +later again: “What! is she not come yet?” + +At last she is come. “Hark you: I have a sore longing--invincible, as +you know--to choke you, to drown you, or to give you up to the bishop, +who already claims you. You have but one way of escape, that is, to +satisfy another longing of mine by changing me into a wolf. I feel +wretchedly bored, weary of keeping still. I want, by night at least, +to run free about the forest. Away with stupid servants, with dogs +that stun me with their noise, with clumsy horses that kick out and +shy at a thicket.” + +“But if you were caught, my lady----” + +“Insolent woman! You would rather die, then?” + +“At least you have heard the story of the woman-wolf, whose paw was +cut off.[66] But, oh! how sorry I should be.” + + [66] Among the great ladies imprisoned in their castles, this + dreadful fancy was not rare. They hungered and thirsted for + freedom, for savage freedom. Boguet mentions how, among the + hills of Auvergne, a hunter one night drew his sword upon a + she-wolf, but missing her, cut off her paw. She fled away + limping. He came to a neighbouring castle to seek the + hospitality of him who dwelt there. The gentleman, on seeing + him, asked if he had had good sport. By way of answer he + thought to draw out of his pouch the she-wolf’s paw; but what + was his amazement to find instead of the paw a hand, and on + one of the fingers a ring, which the gentleman recognized as + belonging to his wife! Going at once in search of her, he + found her hurt and hiding her fore-arm. To the arm which had + lost its hand he fitted that which the hunter had brought + him, and the lady was fain to own that she it was, who in the + likeness of a wolf had attacked the hunter, and afterwards + saved herself by leaving a paw on the battle-field. The + husband had the cruelty to give her up to justice, and she + was burnt. + +“That is my concern. I will hear nothing more, I am in a hurry--have +been barking already. What happiness, to hunt all by myself in the +clear moonlight; by myself to fasten on the hind, or man likewise if +he comes near me; to attack the tender children, and, above all, to +set my teeth in the women; ay, the women, for I hate them all--not one +like yourself. Don’t start, I won’t bite you--you are not to my taste, +and besides, you have no blood in you! ’Tis blood I crave--blood!” + +She can no longer refuse. “Nothing easier, my lady. To-night, at nine +o’clock, you will drink this. Lock yourself up, and then turning into +a wolf, while they think you are still here, you can scour the +forest.” + +It is done; and next morning the lady finds herself worn out and +depressed. In one night she must have travelled some thirty leagues. +She has been hunting and slaying until she is covered with blood. But +the blood, perhaps, comes from her having torn herself among the +brambles. + +A great triumph and danger also for her who has wrought this miracle. +From the lady, however, whose command provoked it, she receives but a +gloomy welcome. “Witch, ’tis a fearful power you have; I should never +have guessed it. But now I fear and dread you. Good cause, indeed, +they have to hate you. A happy day will it be when you are burnt. I +can ruin you when I please. One word of mine about last night, and my +peasants would this evening whet their scythes upon you. Out, you +black-looking, hateful old hag!” + + * * * * * + +The great folk, her patrons, launch her into strange adventures. For +what can she refuse to her terrible protectors, when nothing but the +castle saves her from the priest, from the faggot? If the baron, on +his return from a crusade, being bent on copying the manners of the +Turks, sends for her, and orders her to steal him a few children, what +can she do? Raids such as those grand ones in which two thousand pages +were sometimes carried off from Greek ground to enter the seraglio, +were by no means unknown to the Christians; were known from the tenth +century to the barons of England, at a later date to the knights of +Rhodes and Malta. The famous Giles of Retz, the only one brought to +trial, was punished, not for having stolen his small serfs, a crime +not then uncommon, but for having sacrificed them to Satan. She who +actually stole them, and was ignorant, doubtless, of their future lot, +found herself between two perils: on the one hand the peasant’s fork +and scythe; on the other, those torments which awaited her, when +recusant, within the tower. Retz’s terrible Italian would have made +nothing of pounding her in a mortar.[67] + + [67] See my _History of France_, and still more the learned + and careful account by the lamented Armand Guéraud: _Notice + sur Gilles de Rais_, Nantes, 1855. We there find that the + purveyors of that horrible child’s charnel-house were mostly + men. + +On all sides the perils and the profits went together. A position more +frightfully corrupting could not have been found. The Witches +themselves did not deny the absurd powers imputed to them by the +people. They averred that by means of a doll stuck over with needles +they could weave their spells around whomever they pleased, making him +waste away until he died. They averred that mandragora, torn from +beneath the gallows by the teeth of a dog, who invariably died +therefrom, enabled them to pervert the understanding; to turn men into +beasts, to give women over to idiotcy and madness. Still more dreadful +was the furious frenzy caused by the Thorn-apple, or Datura, which +made men dance themselves to death, and go through a thousand shameful +antics, without their own knowledge or remembrance.[68] + + [68] Pouchet, on the _Solaneæ and General Botany_. Nysten, + _Dictionary of Medicine_, article _Datura_. The robbers + employed these potions but too often. A butcher of Aix and + his wife, whom they wanted to rob of their money, were made + to drink of some such, and became so maddened thereby, that + they danced all one night naked in a cemetery. + + * * * * * + +Hence there grew up against them a feeling of boundless hatred, +mingled with as extreme a fear. Sprenger, who wrote the _Hammer for +Witches_, relates with horror how, in a season of snow, when all the +roads were broken up, he saw a wretched multitude, wild with terror, +and spell-bound by evils all too real, fill up all the approaches to a +little German town. “Never,” says he, “did you behold so mighty a +pilgrimage to our Lady of Grace, or her of the wilderness. All these +people, who hobbled, crawled, and stumbled among the quagmires, were +on their way to the Witch, to beseech the grace of the Devil upon +themselves. How proud and excited must the old woman have felt at +seeing so large a concourse prostrate before her feet!”[69] + + [69] The Witch delighted in causing the noble and the great + to undergo the most outrageous trials of their love. We know + that queens and ladies of rank (in Italy even to the last + century) held their court at times the most forbidding, and + exacted the most unpleasant services from their favourites. + There was nothing too mean, too repulsive, for the domestic + brute--the _cicisbeo_, the priest, the half-witted page--to + undergo, in the stupid belief that the power of a philtre + increased with its nastiness. This was sad enough when the + ladies were neither young, nor beautiful, nor witty. But what + of that other astounding fact, that a Witch, who was neither + a great lady, nor young, nor fair, but poor, and perhaps a + serf, clad only in dirty rags, could still by her malice, by + the strange power of her raging lewdness, by some + bewitchingly treacherous spell, stupefy the gravest + personages, and abase them to so low a depth? Some monks of a + monastery on the Rhine, wherein, as in many other German + convents, none but a noble of four hundred years’ standing + could gain admission, sorrowfully owned to Sprenger that they + had seen three of their brethren bewitched in turn, and a + fourth killed by a woman, who boldly said, “I did it, and + will do so again: they cannot escape me, for they have + eaten,” &c. (Sprenger, _Malleus maleficarum_, _quæstio_, vii. + p. 84.) “The worst of it is,” says Sprenger, “that we have no + means of punishing or examining her: _so she lives still_.” + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE HAMMER FOR WITCHES. + + +The witches took small care to hide their game. Rather they boasted of +it; and it was, indeed, from their own lips that Sprenger picked up +the bulk of the tales that grace his handbook. It is a pedantic work, +marked out into the absurd divisions and subdivisions employed by the +followers of St. Thomas Aquinas; but a work sincere withal, and +frank-spoken, written by a man so thoroughly frightened by this +dreadful duel between God and the Devil, wherein God _generally_ +allows the Devil to win, that the only remedy he can discern is to +pursue the latter fire in hand, and burn with all speed those bodies +which he had chosen for his dwelling-place. + +Sprenger’s sole merit is the fact of his having written a complete +book, which crowns a mighty system, a whole literature. To the old +_Penitentiaries_, handbooks of confessors for the inquisition of sin, +succeeded the _Directories_ for the inquisition of heresy, the +greatest sin of all. But for Witchcraft, the greatest of all heresies, +special handbooks or directories were appointed. Hammers for Witches, +to wit. These handbooks, continually enriched by the zeal of the +Dominicans, attained perfection in the _Malleus_ of Sprenger, the +book by which he himself was guided during his great mission to +Germany, and which for a century after served as a guide and light for +the courts of the Inquisition. + +How was Sprenger led to the study of these things? He tells us that +being in Rome, at a refectory where the monks were entertaining some +pilgrims, he saw two from Bohemia; one a young priest, the other his +father. The father sighing prayed for a successful journey. Touched +with a kindly feeling Sprenger asked him why he sorrowed. Because his +son was _possessed_: at great cost and with much trouble he had +brought him to the tomb of the saints, at Rome. + +“Where is this son of yours?” said the monk. + +“By your side.” + +“At this answer I shrank back alarmed. I scanned the young priest’s +figure, and was amazed to see him eat with so modest an air, and +answer with so much gentleness. He informed me that, on speaking +somewhat sharply to an old woman, she had laid him under a spell, and +that spell was under a tree. What tree? The Witch steadily refused to +say.” + +Sprenger’s charity led him to take the possessed from church to +church, from relic to relic. At every halting-place there was an +exorcism, followed by furious cries, contortions, jabbering in every +language, and gambols without number: all this before the people, who +followed the pair with shuddering admiration. The devils, so abundant +in Germany, were scarcer among the Italians. For some days Rome talked +of nothing else. The noise made by this affair doubtless brought the +Dominican into public notice. He studied, collected all the _Mallei_, +and other manuscript handbooks, and became a first-rate authority in +the processes against demons. His _Malleus_ was most likely composed +during the twenty years between this adventure and the important +mission entrusted to Sprenger by Pope Innocent VIII., in 1484. + + * * * * * + +For that mission to Germany a clever man was specially needed; a man +of wit and ability, who might overcome the dislike of honest German +folk for the dark system it would be his care to introduce. In the Low +Countries Rome had suffered a rude check, which brought the +Inquisition into vogue there, and consequently closed France against +it: Toulouse alone, as being the old Albigensian country, having +endured the Inquisition. About the year 1460 a Penitentiary[70] of +Rome, being made Dean of Arras, thought to strike an awe-inspiring +blow at the _Chambers of Rhetoric_, literary clubs which had begun to +handle religious questions. He had one of these Rhetoricians burnt for +a wizard, and along with him some wealthy burgesses, and even a few +knights. The nobles were angry at this near approach to themselves: +the public voice was raised in violent outcry. The Inquisition was +cursed and spat upon, especially in France. The Parliament of Paris +roughly closed its doors upon it; and thus by her awkwardness did Rome +lose her opportunity of establishing that Reign of Terror throughout +the North. + + [70] Officer charged with the absolution of + penitents.--TRANS. + +About 1484 the time seemed better chosen. The Inquisition had grown to +so dreadful a height in Spain, setting itself even above the king, +that it seemed already confirmed as a conquering institution, able to +move forward alone, to make its way everywhere, and seize upon +everything. In Germany, indeed, it was hindered by the jealous +antagonism of the spiritual princes, who, having courts of their own, +and holding inquisitions by themselves, would never agree to accept +that of Rome. But the position of these princes towards the popular +movements by which they were then so greatly disquieted, soon rendered +them more manageable. All along the Rhine, and throughout Swabia, even +on the eastern side towards Salzburg, the country seemed to be +undermined. At every moment burst forth some fresh revolt of the +peasantry. A vast underground volcano, an invisible lake of fire, +showed itself, as it were, from place to place, in continual spouts of +flame. More dreaded than that of Germany, the foreign Inquisition +appeared at a most seasonable hour for spreading terror through the +country, and crushing the rebellious spirits, by roasting, as the +wizards of to-day, those who might else have been the insurgents of +to-morrow. It was a beautiful _derivative_, an excellent popular +weapon for putting down the people. This time the storm got turned +upon the Wizards, as in 1349, and on many other occasions it had been +launched against the Jews. + +Only the right man was needed. He who should be the first to set up +his judgment-seat in sight of the jealous courts of Mentz and Cologne, +in presence of the mocking mobs of Strazburg or Frankfort, must indeed +be a man of ready wit. He would need great personal cleverness to +atone for, to cause a partial forgetfulness of his hateful mission. +Rome, too, has always plumed herself on choosing the best men for her +work. Caring little for questions, and much for persons, she thought +rightly enough that the successful issue of her affairs depended on +the special character of her several agents abroad. Was Sprenger the +right man? He was a German to begin with, a Dominican enjoying +beforehand the support of that dreaded order through all its convents, +through all its schools. Need was there of a worthy son of the +schools, a good disputant, of a man well skilled in the _Sum_,[71] +grounded firm in his St. Thomas, able at any moment to quote texts. +All this Sprenger certainly was: and best of all, he was a fool. + + [71] A mediæval text-book on theology.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +“It has been often said that _diabolus_ comes from _dia_, ‘two,’ and +_bolus_, ‘a pill or ball,’ because devouring alike soul and body, he +makes but one pill, one mouthful of the two. But”--he goes on to say +with the gravity of _Sganarelle_--“in Greek etymology _diabolus_ means +‘shut up in a house of bondage,’ or rather ‘flowing down’ (Teufel?), +that is to say, falling, because he fell from heaven.” + +Whence comes the word sorcery (_maléfice_)? From _maleficiendo_, which +means _male de fide sentiendo_.[72] A curious etymology, but one that +will hold a great deal. Once trace a resemblance between witchcraft +and evil opinions, and every wizard becomes a heretic, every doubter a +wizard. All who think wrongly can be burnt for wizards. This was done +at Arras; and they long to establish the same rule, little by little, +everywhere else. + + [72] “Thinking ill of the faith.”--TRANS. + +Herein lies the once sure merit of Sprenger. A fool, but a fearless +one, he boldly lays down the most unwelcome theses. Others would have +striven to shirk, to explain away, to diminish, the objections that +might be made. Not he, however. From the first page he puts plainly +forward, one by one, the natural manifest reasons for not believing in +the Satanic miracles. To these he coldly adds: “_They are but so many +heretical mistakes_.” And without stopping to refute those reasons, he +copies you out the adverse passages found in the Bible, St. Thomas, in +books of legends, in the canonists, and the scholiasts. Having first +shown you the right interpretation, he grinds it to powder by dint of +authority. + +He sits down satisfied, calm as a conqueror; seeming to say, “Well, +what say you now? Will you dare use your reason again? Go and doubt +away then; doubt, for instance, that the Devil delights in setting +himself between wife and husband, although the Church and all the +canonists repeatedly admit this reason for a divorce!” + +Of a truth this is unanswerable: nobody will breathe so much as a +whisper in reply. Since Sprenger heads his handbook for judges by +declaring the slightest doubt _heretical_, the judge stands bound +accordingly; he feels that he cannot stumble, that if unhappily he +should ever be tempted by an impulse of doubt or humanity, he must +begin by condemning himself and delivering his own body to the flames. + + * * * * * + +The same method prevails everywhere: first the sensible meaning, which +is then confronted openly, without reserve, by the negation of all +good sense. Some one, for instance, might be tempted to say that as +love is in the soul, there is no need to account for it by the +mysterious working of the Devil. That is surely specious, is it not? + +“By no means,” says Sprenger. + +“I mark a difference. He who cuts wood does not cause it to burn: he +only does so indirectly. The woodcutter is Love; see Denis the +Areopagite, Origen, John of Damascus. Therefore, love is but the +indirect cause of love.” + +What a thing, you see, to have studied! No weak school could have +turned out such a man. Only Paris, Louvain, or Cologne, had machinery +fit to mould the human brain. The school of Paris was mighty: for +dog-Latin who can be matched with the _Janotus_ of Gargantua?[73] But +mightier yet was Cologne, glorious queen of darkness, whence Hutten +drew the type of his _Obscuri viri_, that thriving and fruitful race +of obscurantists and ignoramuses.[74] + + [73] A character in Rabelais. “Date nobis clochas nostras, + &c.”--_Gargantua_, ch. 19.--TRANS. + + [74] Ulrich von Hutten, friend of Luther, and author of the + witty _Epistolæ obscurorum virorum_.--TRANS. + +This massive logician, so full of words, so devoid of meaning, sworn +foe of nature as well as reason, takes his seat with a proud reliance +on his books and gown, on his dirt and dust. On one side of his +judgement-table lies the _Sum_, on the other the _Directory_. Beyond +these he never goes: at all else he only smiles. On such a man as he +there is no imposing: he is not the man to utter anent astrology or +alchemy nonsense not so foolish but that others might be led thereby +to observe truly. And yet Sprenger is a freethinker: he is sceptical +about old receipts! Albert the Great may aver, that some sage in a +spring of water will suffice to raise a storm, but Sprenger only +shakes his head. Sage indeed! Tell that to others, I beg. For all my +little experience, I see herein the craft of One who would put us on +the wrong scent, that cunning Prince of the Air; but he will fare +ill, for he has to deal with a doctor more subtle than the Subtle One +himself. + +I should have liked to see face to face this wonderful specimen of a +judge, and the people who were brought before him. The creatures that +God might bring together from two different worlds would not be more +unlike, more strange to each other, more utterly wanting in a common +language. The old hag, a skeleton in tatters, with an eye flashing +forth evil things, a being thrice cooked in hell-fire; and the +ill-looking hermit shepherd of the Black Forest or the upper Alpine +wastes--such are the savages offered to the leaden gaze of a +scholarling, to the judgement of a schoolman. + +Not long will they let him toil in his judgment-seat. They will tell +all without being tortured. Come the torture will indeed, but +afterwards, by way of complement and crown to the law-procedure. They +explain and relate to order whatever they have done. The Devil is the +Witch’s bedfellow, the shepherd’s intimate friend. She, for her part, +smiles triumphantly, feels a manifest joy in the horror of those +around. + +Truly, the old woman is very mad, and equally so the shepherd. Are +they foolish? Not at all, but far otherwise. They are refined, subtle, +skilled in growing herbs, and seeing through walls. Still more clearly +do they see those monumental ass’s ears that overshadow the doctor’s +cap. Clearest of all is the fear he has of them, for in vain does he +try to bear him boldly; he does nought but tremble. He himself owns +that, if the priest who adjures the demon does not take care, the +Devil will change his lodging only to pass into the priest himself, +feeling all the more proud of dwelling in a body dedicated to God. Who +knows but these simple Devils of Witches and shepherds might even +aspire to inhabit an inquisitor? He is far from easy in mind when in +his loudest voice he says to the old woman, “If your master is so +mighty, why do I not feel his blows?” + +“And, indeed I felt them but too strongly,” says the poor man in his +book. “When I was in Ratisbon, how often he would come knocking at my +windowpanes! How often he stuck pins in my cap! A hundred visions too +did I have of dogs, monkeys,” &c. + + * * * * * + +The dearest delight of that great logician, the Devil, is, by the +mouth of the seeming old woman, to push the doctor with awkward +arguments, with crafty questions, from which he can only escape by +acting like the fish who saves himself by troubling the water and +turning it black as ink. For instance, “The Devil does no more than +God allows him: why, then, punish his tools?” Or again, “We are not +free. As in the case of Job, the Devil is allowed by God to tempt and +beset us, to urge us on by blows. Should we, then, punish him who is +not free?” Sprenger gets out of that by saying, “We are free beings.” +Here come plenty of texts. “You are made serfs only by covenant with +the Evil One.” The answer to this would be but too ready: “If God +allows the Evil One to tempt us into making covenants, he renders +covenants possible,” &c. + +“I am very good,” says he, “to listen to yonder folk. He is a fool who +argues with the Devil.” So say all the rest likewise. They all cheer +the progress of the trial: all are strongly moved, and show in murmurs +their eagerness for the execution. They have seen enough of men +hanged. As for the Wizard and the Witch, ’twill be a curious treat to +see those two faggots crackling merrily in the flames. + +The judge has the people on his side, so he is not embarrassed. +According to his _Directory_ three witnesses would be enough. Are not +three witnesses readily found, especially to witness a falsehood? In +every slanderous town, in every envious village teeming with the +mutual hate of neighbours, witnesses abound. Besides, the _Directory_ +is a superannuated book, a century old. In that century of light, the +fifteenth, all is brought to perfection. If witnesses are wanting, we +are content with the _public voice_, the general clamour.[75] + + [75] Faustin Hélie, in his learned and luminous _Traité de + l’Instruction Criminelle_ (vol. i. p. 398), has clearly + explained the manner in which Pope Innocent III., about 1200, + suppressed the safeguards theretofore required in any + prosecution, especially the risk incurred by prosecutors of + being punished for slander. Instead of these were established + the dismal processes of _Denunciation and Inquisition_. The + frightful levity of these latter methods is shown by Soldan. + Blood was shed like water. + +A genuine outcry, born of fear; the piteous cry of victims, of the +poor bewitched. Sprenger is greatly moved thereat. Do not fancy him +one of those unfeeling schoolmen, the lovers of a dry abstraction. He +has a heart: for which very reason he is so ready to kill. He is +compassionate, full of lovingkindness. He feels pity for yon weeping +woman, but lately pregnant, whose babe the witch had smothered by a +look. He feels pity for the poor man whose land she wasted with hail. +He pities the husband, who though himself no wizard, clearly sees his +wife to be a witch, and drags her with a rope round her neck before +Sprenger, who has her burnt. + +From a cruel judge escape was sometimes possible; but from our worthy +Sprenger it was hopeless. His humanity is too strong: it needs great +management, a very large amount of ready wit, to avoid a burning at +his hands. One day there was brought before him the plaint of three +good ladies of Strasburg who, at one same hour of the same day, had +been struck by an arm unseen. Ah, indeed! They are fain to accuse a +man of evil aspect, of having laid them under a spell. On being +brought before the inquisitor, the man vows and swears by all the +saints that he knows nothing about these ladies, has never so much as +seen them. The judge is hard of believing: nor tears nor oaths avail +aught with him. His great compassion for the ladies made him +inexorable, indignant at the man’s denials. Already he was rising from +his seat. The man would have been tortured into confessing his guilt, +as the most innocent often did. He got leave to speak, and said: “I +remember, indeed, having struck some one yesterday at the hour named; +but whom? No Christian beings, but only three cats which came +furiously biting at my legs.” The judge, like a shrewd fellow, saw the +whole truth of the matter; the poor man was innocent; the ladies were +doubtless turned on certain days into cats, and the Evil One amused +himself by sending them at the legs of Christian folk, in order to +bring about the ruin of these latter by making them pass for wizards. + +A judge of less ability would never have hit upon this. But such a man +was not always to be had. It was needful to have always handy on the +table of the Inquisition a good fool’s guide, to reveal to simple and +inexperienced judges the tricks of the Old Enemy, the best way of +baffling him, the clever and deep-laid tactics employed with such +happy effect by the great Sprenger in his campaigns on the Rhine. To +that end the _Malleus_, which a man was required to carry in his +pocket, was commonly printed in small 18mo, a form at that time +scarce. It would not have been seemly for a judge in difficulties to +open a folio on the table before his audience. But his handbook of +folly he might easily squint at from the corner of his eye, or turn +over its leaves as he held it under the table. + + * * * * * + +This _Malleus_ (or Mallet), like all books of the same class, contains +a singular avowal, namely, that the Devil is gaining ground; in other +words, that God is losing it; that mankind, after being saved by +Christ, is becoming the Devil’s prey. Too clearly indeed does he step +forward from legend to legend. What a way he has made between the time +of the Gospels, when he was only too glad to get into the swine, and +the days of Dante, when, as lawyer and divine, he argues with the +saints, pleads his cause, and by way of closing a successful +syllogism, bears away the soul he was fighting for, saying, with a +triumphant laugh, “You didn’t know that I was a logician!” + +In the earlier days of the Middle Ages he waits till the last pangs to +seize the soul and bear it off. Saint Hildegarde, about 1100, thinks +that “_he cannot enter the body of a living man_, for else his limbs +would fly off in all directions: it is but the shadow and the smoke of +the Devil which pass therein.” That last gleam of good sense vanishes +in the twelfth century. In the thirteenth we find a suppliant so +afraid of being caught alive that he has himself watched day and night +by two hundred armed men. + +Then begins a period of increasing terror, in which men trust +themselves less and ever less to God’s protection. The Demon is no +longer a stealthy sprite, no longer a thief by night, gliding through +the gloom. He becomes the fearless adversary, the daring ape of +Heaven, who in broad daylight mimics God’s creation under God’s own +sun. Is it the legends tell us this? Nay, it is the greatest of the +doctors. “The Devil,” says Albert the Great, “transforms all living +things.” St. Thomas goes yet further. “All changes that may occur +naturally by means of seeds, can be copied by the Devil.” What an +astounding concession, which coming from the mouth of so grave a +personage, means nothing short of setting up one Creator face to face +with another! “But in things done without the germinal process,” he +adds, “such as the changing of men into beasts or the resurrection of +the dead, there the Devil can do nothing.” Thus to God is left the +smaller part of His work! He may only perform miracles, a kind of +action alike singular and infrequent. But the daily miracle of life is +not for Him alone: His copyist, the Devil, shares with Him the world +of nature! + +For man himself, whose weak eyes see no difference between nature as +sprung from God and nature as made by the Devil, here is a world split +in twain! A dreadful uncertainty hangs over everything. Nature’s +innocence is gone. The clear spring, the pale flower, the little bird, +are these indeed of God, or only treacherous counterfeits, snares laid +out for man? Back! all things look doubtful! The better of the two +creations, being suspiciously like the other, becomes eclipsed and +conquered. The shadow of the Devil covers up the day, spreads over all +life. To judge by appearances and the fears of men, he has ceased to +share the world; he has taken it all to himself. + +So matters stand in the days of Sprenger. His book teems with saddest +avowals of God’s weakness. “These things,” he says, “are done with +God’s leave.” To permit an illusion so entire, to let people believe +that God is nought and the Devil everything, is more than mere +_permission_; is tantamount to decreeing the damnation of countless +souls whom nothing can save from such an error. No prayers, no +penances, no pilgrimages, are of any avail; nor even, so it is said, +the sacrament of the altar. Strange and mortifying avowal! The very +nuns who have just confessed themselves, declare _while the host is +yet in their mouths_, that even then they feel the infernal lover +troubling them without fear or shame, troubling and refusing to leave +his hold. And being pressed with further questions, they add, through +their tears, that he has a body _because he has a soul_. + + * * * * * + +The Manichees of old, and the more modern Albigenses, were charged +with believing in the Power of Evil struggling side by side with Good, +with making the Devil equal to God. Here, however, he is more than +equal; for if God through His holy sacrament has still no power for +good, the Devil certainly seems superior. + +I am not surprised at the wondrous sight then offered by the world. +Spain with a darksome fury, Germany with the frightened pedantic rage +certified in the _Malleus_, assail the insolent conqueror through the +wretches in whom he chooses to dwell. They burn, they destroy the +dwellings in which he has taken up his abode. Finding him too strong +for men’s souls, they try to hunt him out of their bodies. But what is +the good of it all? You burn one old woman and he settles himself in +her neighbour. Nay, more; if Sprenger may be trusted, he fastens +sometimes on the exorcising priest, and triumphs over his very judge. + +Among other expedients, the Dominicans advised recourse to the +intercession of the Virgin, by a continual repeating of the _Ave +Maria_. Sprenger, for his part, always averred that such a remedy was +but a momentary one. You might be caught between two prayers. Hence +came the invention of the rosary, the chaplet of beads, by means of +which any number of aves might be mumbled through, whilst the mind was +busied elsewhere. Whole populations adopted this first essay of an art +thereafter to be used by Loyola in his attempt to govern the world, an +art of which his _Exercises_ furnish the ingenious groundwork. + + * * * * * + +All this seems opposed to what was said in the foregoing chapter as to +the decline of Witchcraft. The Devil is now popular and everywhere +present. He seems to have come off conqueror: but has he gained by +his victory? What substantial profit has he reaped therefrom? + +Much, as beheld in his new phase of a scientific rebellion which is +about to bring forth the bright Renaissance. None, if beheld under his +old aspect, as the gloomy Spirit of Witchcraft. The stories told of +him in the sixteenth century, if more numerous, more widespread than +ever, readily swing towards the grotesque. People tremble, but they +laugh withal.[76] + + [76] See my _Memoirs of Luther_, concerning the Kilcrops, &c. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +CENTURY OF TOLERATION IN FRANCE: REACTION. + + +The Church forfeited the wizard’s property to the judge and the +prosecutor. Wherever the Canon Law was enforced the trials for +witchcraft waxed numerous, and brought much wealth to the clergy. +Wherever the lay tribunals claimed the management of these trials they +grew scarce and disappeared, at least for a hundred years in France, +from 1450 to 1550. + +The first gleam of light shot forth from France in the middle of the +fifteenth century. The inquiry made by Parliament into the trial of +Joan of Arc, and her after reinstalment, set people thinking on the +intercourse of spirits, good and bad; on the errors, also, of the +spiritual courts. She whom the English, whom the greatest doctors of +the Council of Basil pronounced a Witch, appeared to Frenchmen a saint +and sibyl. Her reinstalment proclaimed to France the beginning of an +age of toleration. The Parliament of Paris likewise reinstalled the +alleged Waldenses of Arras. In 1498 it discharged as mad one who was +brought before it as a wizard. None such were condemned in the reigns +of Charles VIII., Louis XII., and Francis I. + + * * * * * + +On the contrary, Spain, under the pious Isabella (1506) and the +Cardinal Ximenes, began burning witches. In 1515, Geneva, being then +under a Bishop, burned five hundred in three months. The Emperor +Charles V., in his German Constitutions, vainly sought to rule, that +“Witchcraft, as causing damage to goods and persons, is a question for +_civil_, not ecclesiastic law.” In vain did he do away the right of +confiscation, except in cases of treason. The small prince-bishops, +whose revenues were largely swelled by trials for witchcraft, kept on +burning at a furious rate. In one moment, as it were, six hundred +persons were burnt in the infinitesimal bishopric of Bamberg, and nine +hundred in that of Wurtzburg. The way of going to work was very +simple. Begin by using torture against the witnesses; create witnesses +for the prosecution by means of pain and terror; then, by dint of +excessive kindliness, draw from the accused a certain avowal, and +believe that avowal in the teeth of proven facts. A witch, for +instance, owns to having taken from the graveyard the body of an +infant lately dead, that she might use it in her magical compounds. +Her husband bids them go the graveyard, for the child is there still. +On being disinterred, the child is found all right in his coffin. But +against the witness of his own eyes the judge pronounces it _an +appearance_, a cheat of the Devil. He prefers the wife’s confession to +the fact itself; and she is burnt forthwith.[77] + + [77] For this and other facts regarding Germany, see Soldan. + +So far did matters go among these worthy prince-bishops, that after a +while, Ferdinand II., the most bigoted of all emperors, the emperor of +the Thirty Years’ War, was fain to interfere, to set up at Bamberg an +imperial commissary, who should maintain the law of the empire, and +see that the episcopal judge did not begin the trial with tortures +which settled it beforehand, which led straight to the stake. + + * * * * * + +Witches were easily caught by their confessions, sometimes without the +torture. Many of them were half mad. They would own to turning +themselves into beasts. The Italian women often became cats, and +gliding under the doors, sucked, they said, the blood of children. In +the land of mighty forests, in Lorraine and on the Jura, the women, of +their own accord, became wolves, and, if you could believe them, +devoured the passers by, even when nobody had passed by. They were +burnt. Some girls, who swore they had given themselves to the Devil, +were found to be maidens still. They, too, were burnt. Several seemed +in a great hurry, as if they wanted to be burnt. Sometimes it happened +from raging madness, sometimes from despair. An Englishwoman being led +to the stake, said to the people, “Do not blame my judges. I wanted to +put an end to my own self. My parents kept aloof from me in their +dread. My husband had disowned me. I could not have lived on without +disgrace. I longed for death, and so I told a lie.” + +The first words of open toleration against silly Sprenger, his +frightful Handbook, and his Inquisitors, were spoken by Molitor, a +lawyer of Constance. He made this sensible remark, that the +confessions of witches should not be taken seriously, because it was +the very Father of Lies who spoke by their mouths. He laughed at the +miracles of Satan, affirming them to be all illusory. In an indirect +way, such jesters as Hutten and Erasmus dealt violent blows at the +Inquisition, through their satires on the Dominican idiots. Cardan[78] +said, straightforwardly, “In order to obtain forfeit property, the +same persons acted as accusers and judges, and invented a thousand +stories in proof.” + + [78] A famous Italian physician, who lived through the + greater part of the sixteenth century.--TRANS. + +That apostle of toleration, Chatillon, who maintained against +Catholics and Protestants both, that heretics should not be burnt, +though he said nothing about wizards, put men of sense in a better +way. Agrippa,[79] Lavatier, above all, Wyer[80]] the illustrious +physician of Clèves, rightly said that if those wretched witches were +the Devil’s plaything, we must lay the blame on the Devil, not on +them; must cure, instead of burning them. Some physicians of Paris +soon pushed incredulity so far as to maintain that the possessed and +the witches were simply knaves. This was going too far. Most of them +were sufferers under the sway of an illusion. + + [79] Cornelius Agrippa, of Cologne, born in 1486, sometime + Secretary of the Emperor Maximilian, and author of two works + famous in their day, _Vanity of the Sciences_, and _Occult + Philosophy_.--TRANS. + + [80] A friend of Sir Philip Sydney, who sent for him when + dying.--TRANS. + +The dark reign of Henry II. and Diana of Poitiers ends the season of +toleration. Under Diana, they burn heretics and wizards again. On the +other hand, Catherine of Medici, surrounded as she was by astrologers +and magicians, would have protected the latter. Their numbers +increased amain. The wizard Trois-Echelles, who was tried in the reign +of Charles IX., reckons them at a hundred thousand, declaring all +France to be one Witch. + +Agrippa and others affirm, that all science is contained in magic. In +white magic undoubtedly. But the fears of fools and their fanatic +rage, put little difference between them. In spite of Wyer, in spite +of those true philosophers, Light and Toleration, a strong reaction +towards darkness set in from a quarter whence it was least expected. +Our magistrates, who for nearly a century, had shown themselves +enlightened and fair-dealing, now threw themselves into the Spanish +Catholicon[81] and the fury of the Leaguists,[82] until they waxed +more priest-like than the priests themselves. While scouting the +Inquisition from France, they matched, and well-nigh eclipsed it by +their own deeds: the Parliament of Toulouse alone sending four hundred +human bodies at one time to the stake. Think of the horror, the black +smoke of all that flesh, of the frightful melting and bubbling of the +fat amidst those piercing shrieks and yells! So accursed, so sickening +a sight had not been seen, since the Albigenses were broiled and +roasted. + + [81] Catholicon, or purgative panacea: _i. e._ the + Inquisition.--TRANS. + + [82] The wars of the Catholic League against Henry of Navarre + began in 1576.--TRANS. + +But this is all too little for Bodin, lawyer of Angers, and a violent +adversary to Wyer. He begins by saying that the wizards in Europe are +numerous enough to match Xerxes’ army of eighteen hundred thousand +men. Then, like Caligula, he utters a prayer, that these two millions +might be gathered together, so as he, Bodin, could sentence and burn +them all at one stroke. + + * * * * * + +The new rivalry makes matters worse. The gentry of the Law begin to +say that the priest, being too often connected with the wizard, is no +longer a safe judge. In fact, for a moment, the lawyers seem to be yet +more trustworthy. In Spain, the Jesuit pleader, Del Rio; in Lorraine, +Remy (1596); Boguet (1602) on the Jura; Leloyer (1605) in Anjou; are +all matchless persecutors, who would have made Torquemada[83] himself +die of envy. + + [83] The infamous Spanish Inquisitor, who died at the close + of the fifteenth century, after sixteen years of untold + atrocities against the heretics of Spain.--TRANS. + +In Lorraine there seemed to be quite a dreadful plague of wizards and +visionaries. Driven to despair by the constant passing of troops and +brigands, the multitude prayed to the Devil only. They were drawn on +by the wizards. A number of villagers, frightened by a twofold dread +of wizards on the one hand, and judges on the other, longed to leave +their homes and flee elsewhither, if Remy, Judge of Nancy, may be +believed. In the work he dedicated (1596) to the Cardinal of Lorraine, +he owns to having burnt eight hundred witches, in sixteen years. “So +well do I deal out judgements,” he says, “that last year sixteen slew +themselves to avoid passing through my hands.” + + * * * * * + +The priests felt humbled. Could they have done better than the laity? +Nay, even the monkish lords of Saint Claude asked for a layman, honest +Boguet, to sit in judgment on their own people, who were much given to +witchcraft. In that sorry Jura, a poor land of firs and scanty +pasturage, the serf in his despair yielded himself to the Devil. They +all worshipped the Black Cat. + +Boguet’s book had immense weight. This Golden Book, by the petty judge +of Saint Claude, was studied as a handbook by the worshipful members +of Parliament. In truth, Boguet is a thorough lawyer, is even +scrupulous in his own way. He finds fault with the treachery shown in +these prosecutions; will not hear of barristers betraying their +clients, of judges promising pardon only to ensure the death of the +accused. He finds fault with the very doubtful tests to which the +witches were still exposed. “Torture,” he says, “is needless: it never +makes them yield.” Moreover, he is humane enough to have them +strangled before throwing them to the flames, always except the +werewolves, “whom you must take care to burn alive.” He cannot believe +that Satan would make a compact with children: “Satan is too sharp; +knows too well that, under fourteen years, any bargain made with a +minor, is annulled by default of years and due discretion.” Then the +children are saved? Not at all; for he contradicts himself, and holds, +moreover, that such a leprosy cannot be purged away without burning +everything, even to the cradles. Had he lived, he would have come to +that. He made the country a desert: never was there a judge who +destroyed people with so fine a conscience. + +But it is to the Parliament of Bourdeaux that the grand hurrah for lay +jurisdiction is sent up in Lancre’s book on _The Fickleness of +Demons_. The author, a man of some sense, a counsellor in this same +Parliament, tells with a triumphant air of his fight with the Devil in +the Basque country, where, in less than three months, he got rid of I +know not how many witches, and, better still, of three priests. He +looks compassionately on the Spanish Inquisition, which at Logroño, +not far off, on the borders of Navarre and Castille, dragged on a +trial for two years, ending in the poorest way by a small +_auto-da-fé_, and the release of a whole crowd of women. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE WITCHES OF THE BASQUE COUNTRY: 1609.[84] + + [84] The Basques of the Lower Pyrenees, the Aquitani of + Cæsar, belonged to the old Iberian race which peopled Western + Europe before the Celtic era.--TRANS. + + +That strong-handed execution of the priests shows M. Lancre to have +been a man of independent spirit. In politics he is the same. In his +book on _The Prince_ (1617), he openly declares “the law to be above +the King.” + +Never was the Basque character better drawn than in his book on _The +Fickleness of Demons_. In France, as in Spain, the Basque people had +privileges which almost made them a republic. On our side they owed +the King no service but that of arms: at the first beat of drum they +were bound to gather two thousand armed men commanded by Basque +captains. They were not oppressed by their clergy, who seldom +prosecuted wizards, being wizards themselves. The priests danced, wore +swords, and took their mistresses to the Witches’ Sabbath. These +mistresses acted as their sextonesses or _bénédictes_, to keep the +churches in order. The parson quarrelled with nobody, offered the +White Mass to God by day, the Black by night to the Devil, and +sometimes, according to Lancre, in the same church. + +The Basques of Bayonne and St. Jean de Luz, a race of men quaint, +venturesome, and fabulously bold, left many widows, from their habit +of sailing out into the roughest seas to harpoon whales. Leaving their +wives to God or the Devil, they threw themselves in crowds into the +Canadian settlements of Henry IV. As for the children, these honest +worthy sailors would have thought about them more, if they had been +clear as to their parentage. But on their return home they would +reckon up the months of their absence, and they never found the +reckoning right. + +The women, bold, beautiful, imaginative, spent their day seated on +tombs in the grave-yards, talking of the Sabbath, whither they +expected to go in the evening. This was their passion, their craze. + +They are born witches, daughters of the sea and of enchantment. They +sport among the billows, swimming like fish. Their natural master is +the Prince of the Air, King of Winds and Dreams, the same who inspired +the Sibyl and breathed to her the future. + +The judge who burns them is charmed with them, nevertheless. “When you +see them pass,” says he, “their hair flowing in the breeze about their +shoulders, they walk so trim, so bravely armed in that fair +head-dress, that the sun playing through it as through a cloud, causes +a mighty blaze which shoots forth hot lightning-flashes. Hence the +fascination of their eyes, as dangerous in love as in witchcraft.” + +This amiable Bordeaux magistrate, the earliest sample of those worldly +judges who enlivened the gown in the seventeenth century, plays the +lute between whiles, and even makes the witches dance before sending +them to the stake. And he writes well, far more clearly than anyone +else. But for all that, one discovers in his work a new source of +obscurity, inherent to those times. The witches being too numerous for +the judge to burn them all, the most of them have a shrewd idea that +he will show some indulgence to those who enter deepest into his +thoughts and passions! What passions? you ask. First, his love of the +frightfully marvellous, a passion common enough; the delight of +feeling afraid; and also, if it must be said, the enjoyment of +unseemly pleasures. Add to these a touch of vanity: the more dreadful +and enraged those clever women show the Devil to be, the greater the +pride taken by the judge in subduing so mighty an adversary. He arrays +himself as it were in his victory, enthrones himself in his +foolishness, triumphs in his senseless twaddling. + +The prettiest thing of this kind is the report of the procedure in the +Spanish _auto-da-fé_ of Logroño, as furnished to us by Llorente. +Lancre, while quoting him jealously and longing to disparage him, owns +to the surpassing charm of the festival, the splendour of the sight, +the moving power of the music. On one platform were the few condemned +to the flames, on another a crowd of reprieved criminals. The +confession of a repentant heroine who had dared all things, is read +aloud. Nothing could be wilder. At the Sabbaths they ate children made +into hash, and by way of second course, the bodies of wizards +disentombed. Toads dance, and talk and complain lovingly of their +mistresses, getting them scolded by the Devil. The latter politely +escorts the witches home, lighting them with the arm of a child who +died unchristened, &c. + +Among our Basques witchcraft put on a less fantastic guise. It seems +that at this time the Sabbath was only a grand feast to which all, the +nobles included, went for purposes of amusement. In the foremost line +would be seen persons in veils and masks, by some supposed to be +princes. “Once on a time,” says Lancre, “none but idiots of the Landes +appeared there: now people of quality are seen to go.” To entertain +these local grandees, Satan sometimes created a _Bishop of the +Sabbath_. Such was the title he gave the young lord Lancinena, with +whom the Devil in person was good enough to open the ball. + +So well supported, the witches held their sway, wielding over the land +an amazing terrorism of the fancy. Numbers regarded themselves as +victims, and became in fact seriously ill. Many were stricken with +epilepsy, and barked like dogs. In one small town of Acqs were counted +as many as forty of these barkers. The Witch had so fearful a hold +upon them, that one lady being called as witness, began barking with +uncontrollable fury as the Witch, unawares to herself, drew near. + +Those to whom was ascribed so terrible a power lorded it everywhere. +No one would dare shut his door against them. One magistrate, the +criminal assessor of Bayonne, allowed the Sabbath to be held in his +own house. Urtubi, Lord of Saint Pé, was forced to hold the festival +in his castle. But his head was shaken to that degree, that he +imagined a witch was sucking his blood. Emboldened, however, by his +fear, he, with another gentleman, repaired to Bordeaux, and persuaded +the Parliament to obtain from the King the commissioning of two of its +members, Espagnet and Lancre, to try the wizards in the Basque +country. This commission, absolute and without appeal, worked with +unheard-of vigour; in four months, from May to August, 1609, condemned +sixty or eighty witches, and examined five hundred more, who, though +equally marked with the sign of the Devil, figured in the proceedings +as witnesses only. + + * * * * * + +It was no safe matter for two men and a few soldiers to carry on these +trials amongst a violent, hot-headed people, a multitude of wild and +daring sailors’ wives. Another source of danger was in the priests, +many of whom were wizards, needing to be tried by the lay +commissioners, despite the lively opposition of the clergy. + +When the judges appeared, many persons saved themselves in the hills. +Others boldly remained, saying, it was the judges who would be burnt. +So little fear had the witches themselves, that before the audience +they would sink into the Sabbatic slumber, and affirm on awaking that, +even in court, they had enjoyed the blessedness of Satan. Many said, +they only suffered from not being able to prove to him how much they +burned to suffer for his sake. + +Those who were questioned said they could not speak. Satan rising into +their throats blocked up their gullets. Lancre, who wrote this +narrative, though the younger of the commissioners, was a man of the +world. The witches guessed that, with a man of his sort, there were +means of saving themselves. The league between them was broken. A +beggar-girl of seventeen, La Murgui, or Margaret, who had found +witchcraft gainful, and, while herself almost a child, had brought +away children as offerings to the Devil, now betook herself, with +another girl, Lisalda, of the same age, to denouncing all the rest. By +word of mouth or in writing she revealed all; with the liveliness, the +noise, the emphatic gestures of a Spaniard, entering truly or falsely +into a hundred impure details. She frightened, amused, wheedled her +judges, drawing them after her like fools. To this corrupt, wanton, +crazy girl, they entrusted the right of searching about the bodies of +girls and boys, for the spot whereon Satan had set his mark. This spot +discovered itself by a certain numbness, by the fact that you might +stick needles into it without causing pain. While a surgeon thus +tormented the elder ones, she took in hand the young, who, though +called as witnesses, might themselves be accused, if she pronounced +them to bear the mark. It was a hateful thing to see this brazen-faced +girl made sole mistress of the fate of those wretched beings, +commissioned to prod them all over with needles, and able at will to +assign those bleeding bodies to death! + +She had gotten so mighty a sway over Lancre, as to persuade him that, +while he was sleeping in Saint Pé, in his own house, guarded by his +servants and his escort, the Devil came by night into his room, to say +the Black Mass; while the witches getting inside his very curtains, +would have poisoned him, had he not been well protected by God +Himself. The Black Mass was offered by the Lady of Lancinena, to whom +Satan made love in the very bedroom of the judge. We can guess the +likely aim of this wretched tale: the beggar bore a grudge against the +lady, who was good-looking, and, but for this slander, might have come +to bear sway over the honest commissioner. + + * * * * * + +Lancre and his colleague taking fright, went forward; never dared to +draw back. They had their royal gallows set up on the very spots where +Satan had held a Sabbath. People were alarmed thereat, deeming them +strongly backed by the arm of royalty. Impeachments hailed about them. +The women all came in one long string to accuse each other. Children +were brought forward to impeach their mothers. Lancre gravely ruled +that a child of eight was a good, sufficient, reputable witness! + +M. d’Espagnet could give but a few moments to this matter, having +speedily to show himself in the Estates of Béarn. Lancre being pushed +unwittingly forward by the violence of the younger informers, who +would have fallen into great danger, if they had failed to get the old +ones burnt, threw the reins on the neck of the business, and hurried +it on at full gallop. A due amount of witches were condemned to the +stake. These, too, on finding themselves lost, ended by impeaching +others. When the first batch were brought to the stake, a frightful +scene took place. Executioner, constables, and sergeants, all thought +their last hour was come. The crowd fell savagely upon the carts, +seeking to force the wretches to withdraw their accusations. The men +put daggers to their throats: their furious companions were like to +finish them with their nails. + +Justice, however, got out of the scrape with some credit; and then the +commissioners went on to the harder work of sentencing eight priests +whom they had taken up. The girls’ confessions had brought these men +to light. Lancre speaks of their morals like one who knew all about +them of himself. He rebukes them, not only for their gay proceedings +on Sabbath nights, but, most of all, for their sextonesses and female +churchwardens. He even repeats certain tales about the priests having +sent off the husbands to Newfoundland, and brought back Devils from +Japan who gave up the wives into their hands. + +The clergy were deeply stirred: the Bishop of Bayonne would have made +resistance. His courage failing him, he appointed his vicar-general to +act as judge-assistant in his own absence. Luckily the Devil gave the +accused more help than their Bishop. He opened all the doors, so that +one morning five of the eight were found missing. The commissioners +lost no time in burning the three still left to them. + + * * * * * + +This happened about August, 1609. The Spanish inquisitors at Logroño +did not crown their proceedings with an _auto-da-fé_ before the 8th +November, 1610. They had met with far more trouble than our own +countrymen, owing to the frightful number of persons accused. How burn +a whole people? They sought advice of the Pope, of the greatest +doctors in Spain. The word was given to draw back. Only the wilful who +persisted in denying their guilt, were to be burnt; while they who +pleaded guilty should be let go. The same method had already been used +to rescue priests in trials for loose living. According to Llorente, +it was deemed sufficient, if they owned their crime, and went through +a slight penance. + +The Inquisition, so deadly to heretics, so cruel to Moors and Jews, +was much less so to wizards. These, being mostly shepherds, had no +quarrel with the Church. The rejoicings of goatherds were too low, if +not too brutish, to disturb the enemies of free thought. + + * * * * * + +Lancre wrote his book mainly to show how much the justice of French +Parliaments and laymen excelled the justice of the priests. It is +written lightly, merrily, with flowing pen. It seems to express the +joy felt by one who has come creditably out of a great risk. It is a +gasconading, an over-boastful joy. He tells with pride how, the +Sabbath following the first execution of the witches, their children +went and wailed to Satan, who replied that their mothers had not been +burnt, but were alive and happy. From the midst of the crowd the +children thought they heard their mothers’ voices saying how +thoroughly blest they were. Satan was frightened nevertheless. He +absented himself for four Sabbaths, sending a small commonplace devil +in his stead. He did not show himself again till the 22nd July. When +the wizards asked him the reason of his absence, he said, “I have been +away, pleading your cause against _Little John_,” the name by which he +called Jesus. “I have won the suit, and they who are still in prison +will not be burnt.” + +The lie was given to the great liar. And the conquering magistrate +avers that, while the last witch was burning, they saw a swarm of +toads come out of her head. The people fell on them with stones, so +that she was rather stoned than burnt. But for all their attacks, they +could not put an end to one black toad which escaped from flames, +sticks, and stones, to hide, like the Devil’s imp it was, in some spot +where it could never be found.[85] + + [85] For a more detailed account of these Basque Witches, the + English reader may turn to Wright’s _Narratives of Sorcery + and Magic_. Bentley, 1851.--TRANS. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SATAN TURNS PRIEST. + + +Whatever semblance of Satanic fanaticism was still preserved by the +witches, it transpires from the narratives of Lancre and other writers +of the seventeenth century, that the Sabbath then was mainly an affair +of money. They raised contributions almost by force, charged something +for right of entrance, and extracted fines from those who stayed away. +At Brussels and in Picardy, they had a fixed scale of payment for +rewarding those who brought new members into the brotherhood. + +In the Basque country no mystery was kept up. The gatherings there +would amount to twelve thousand persons, of all classes, rich or poor, +priests and gentlemen. Satan, himself a gentleman, wore a hat upon his +three horns, like a man of quality. Finding his old seat, the druidic +stone, too hard for him, he treats himself to an easy well-gilt +arm-chair. Shall we say he is growing old? More nimble now than when +he was young, he frolics about, cuts capers, and leaps from the bottom +of a large pitcher. He goes through the service head downwards, his +feet in the air. + +He likes everything to go off quite respectably, and spares no cost +in his scenic arrangements. Besides the customary flames, red, yellow, +and blue, which entertain the eye, as they show forth or hide the +flickering shadows, he charms the ear with strange music, mainly of +little bells that tickle the nerves with something like the searching +vibrations of musical-glasses. To crown this splendour Satan bids them +bring out his silver plate. Even his toads give themselves airs, +become fashionable, and, like so many lordlings, go about in green +velvet. + +The general effect is that of a large fair, of a great masked ball +with very transparent disguises. Satan, who understands his epoch, +opens the ball with the Bishop of the Sabbath; or the King and Queen: +offices devised in compliment to the great personages, wealthy or +well-born, who honour the meeting by their presence. + +Here may be seen no longer the gloomy feast of rebels, the baleful +orgie of serfs and boors, sharing by night the sacrament of love, by +day the sacrament of death. The violent Sabbath-round is no more the +one only dance of the evening. Thereto are now added the Moorish +dances, lively or languishing, but always amorous and obscene, in +which girls dressed up for the purpose, like _La Murgui_ or _La +Lisalda_, feigned and showed off the most provoking characters. Among +the Basques these dances formed, we are told, the invincible charm +which sent the whole world of women, wives, daughters, widows--the +last in great numbers--headlong into the Sabbath. + +Without such amusements and the accompanying banquet, one could hardly +understand this general rage for these Sabbaths. It is a kind of love +without love; a feast of barrenness undisguised. Boguet has settled +that point to a nicety. Differing in one passage, where he dismisses +the women as afraid of coming to harm, Lancre is generally at one with +Boguet, besides being more sincere. The cruel and foul researches he +pursues on the very bodies of witches, show clearly that he deemed +them barren, and that a barren passive love underlay the Sabbath +itself. + +The feast ought therefore to have been a dismal one, if the men had +owned the smallest heart. + +The silly girls who went to dance and eat were victims in every way. +But they were resigned to everything save the prospect of bearing +children. They bore indeed a far heavier load of wretchedness than the +men. Sprenger tells of the strange cry, which even in his day burst +forth in the hour of love, “May the Devil have the fruits!” In his +day, moreover, people could live for two _sous_ a day, while in the +reign of Henry IV., about 1600, they could barely live for twenty. +Through all that century the desire, the need for barrenness grew more +and more. + +Under this growing dread of love’s allurements the Sabbath would have +become quite dull and wearisome, had not the conductresses cleverly +made the most of its comic side, enlivening it with farcical +interludes. Thus, the opening scene in which Satan, like the Priapus +of olden times, bestowed his coarse endearments on the Witch, was +followed by another game, a kind of chilly purification, which the +sorceress underwent with much grimacing, and a great show of +unpleasant shuddering. Then came another swinish farce, described by +Lancre and Boguet, in which some young and pretty wife would take the +Witch’s place as Queen of the Sabbath, and submit her body to the +vilest handling. A farce not less repulsive was the “Black Sacrament,” +performed with a black radish, which Satan would cut into little +pieces and gravely swallow. + +The last act of all, according to Lancre, or at least according to the +two bold hussies who made him their fool, was an astounding event to +happen in such crowded meetings. Since witchcraft had become +hereditary in whole families, there was no further need of openly +divulging the old incestuous ways of producing witches, by the +intercourse of a mother with her son. Some sort of comedy perhaps was +made out of the old materials, in the shape of a grotesque Semiramis +or an imbecile Ninus. But the more serious game, which doubtless +really took place, attests the existence of great profligacy in the +upper walks of society: it took the form of a most hateful and +barbarous hoax. + +Some rash husband would be tempted to the spot, so fuddled with a +baleful draught of datura or belladonna, that, like one entranced, he +came to lose all power of speech and motion, retaining only his +sight. His wife, on the other hand, being so bewitched with erotic +drinks as to lose all sense of what she was doing, would appear in a +woeful state of nature, letting herself be caressed under the +indignant eyes of one who could no longer help himself in the least. +His manifest despair, his bootless efforts to unshackle his tongue, +and set free his powerless limbs, his dumb rage and wildly rolling +eyes, inspired beholders with a cruel joy, like that produced by some +of Molière’s comedies. The poor woman, stung with a real delight, +yielded herself up to the most shameful usage, of which on the morrow +neither herself nor her husband would have the least remembrance. But +those who had seen or shared in the cruel farce, would they, too, fail +to remember? + +In such heinous outrages an aristocratic element seems traceable. In +no way do they remind us of the old brotherhood of serfs, of the +original Sabbath, which, though ungodly, and foul enough, was still a +free straightforward matter, in which all was done readily and without +constraint. + +Clearly, Satan, depraved as he was from all time, goes on spoiling +more and more. A polite, a crafty Satan is he now become, sweetly +insipid, but all the more faithless and unclean. It is a new, a +strange thing to see at the Sabbaths, his fellowship with priests. Who +is yon parson coming along with his _Bénédicte_, his sextoness, he who +jobs the things of the Church, saying the White Mass of mornings, the +Black at night? “Satan,” says Lancre, “persuades him to make love to +his daughters in the spirit, to debauch his fair penitents.” Innocent +magistrate! He pretends to be unaware that for a century back the +Devil had been working away at the Church livings, like one who knew +his business! He had made himself father-confessor; or, if you would +rather have it so, the father-confessor had turned Devil. + +The worthy M. de Lancre should have remembered the trials that began +in 1491, and helped perchance to bring the Parliament of Paris into a +tolerant frame of mind. It gave up burning Satan, for it saw nothing +of him but a mask. + +A good many nuns were conquered by his new device of borrowing the +form of some favourite confessor. Among them was Jane Pothierre, a +holy woman of Quesnoy, of the ripe age of forty-five, but still, alas! +all too impressible. She owns her passion to her ghostly counsellor, +who loth to listen to her, flies to Falempin, some leagues off. The +Devil, who never sleeps, saw his advantage, and perceiving her, says +the annalist, “goaded by the thorns of Venus, he slily took the shape +of the aforesaid ‘Father,’ and returning every night to the convent, +was so successful in befooling her, that she owned to having received +him 434 times.”[86] Great pity was felt for her on her repenting; and +she was speedily saved from all need of blushing, being put into a +fine walled-tomb built for her in the Castle of Selles, where a few +days after she died the death of a good Catholic. Is it not a deeply +moving tale? But this is nothing to that fine business of Gauffridi, +which happened at Marseilles while Lancre was drawing up deeds at +Bayonne. + + [86] Massée, _Chronique du Monde_, 1540; and the Chroniclers + of Hainault, &c. + +The Parliament of Provence had no need to envy the success attained by +that of Bordeaux. The lay authorities caught at the first occasion of +a trial for witchcraft to institute a reform in the morals of the +clergy. They sent forth a stern glance towards the close-shut +convent-world. A rare opportunity was offered by the strange +concurrence of many causes, by the fierce jealousies, the revengeful +longings which severed priest from priest. But for those mad passions +which ere long began to burst forth at every moment, we should have +gained no insight into the real lot of that great world of women who +died in those gloomy dwellings; not one word should we have heard of +the things that passed behind those parlour gratings, within those +mighty walls which only the confessor could overleap. + +The example of the Basque priest, whom Lancre presents to us as +worldly, trifling, going with his sword upon him, and his deaconess by +his side, to dance all night at the Sabbath, was not one to inspire +fear. It was not such as he whom the Inquisition took such pains to +screen, or towards whom a body so stern for others, proved itself, for +once, indulgent. It is easy to see through all Lancre’s reticences +the existence of _something else_. And the States-General of 1614, +affirming that priests should not be tried by priests, are also +thinking of _something else_. This very mystery it is which gets torn +in twain by the Parliament of Provence. The director of nuns gaining +the mastery over them and disposing of them, body and soul, by means +of witchcraft,--such is the fact which comes forth from the trial of +Gauffridi; at a later date from the dreadful occurrences at Loudun and +Louviers; and also in the scenes described by Llorente, Ricci, and +several more. + +One common method was employed alike for reducing the scandal, for +misleading the public, for hiding away the inner fact while it was +busied with the outer aspects of it. On the trial of a priestly +wizard, all was done to juggle away the priest by bringing out the +wizard; to impute everything to the art of the magician, and put out +of sight the natural fascination wielded by the master of a troop of +women all abandoned to his charge. + +But there was no way of hushing up the first affair. It had been +noised abroad in all Provence, in a land of light, where the sun +pierces without any disguise. The chief scene of it lay not only in +Aix and Marseilles, but also in Sainte-Baume, the famous centre of +pilgrimage for a crowd of curious people, who thronged from all parts +of France to be present at a deadly duel between two bewitched nuns +and their demons. The Dominicans, who attacked the affair as +inquisitors, committed themselves by the noise they made about it +through their partiality for one of these nuns. For all the care +Parliament presently took to hurry the conclusion, these monks were +exceedingly anxious to excuse her and justify themselves. Hence the +important work of the monk Michaëlis, a mixture of truth and fable; +wherein he raises Gauffridi, the priest he had sent to the flames, +into the Prince of Magicians, not only in France, but even in Spain, +Germany, England, Turkey, nay, in the whole inhabited earth. + +Gauffridi seems to have been a talented, agreeable man. Born in the +mountains of Provence, he had travelled much in the Low Countries and +the East. He bore the highest character in Marseilles, where he served +as priest in the Church of Acoules. His bishop made much of him: the +most devout of the ladies preferred him for their confessor. He had a +wondrous gift, they say, of endearing himself to all. Nevertheless, he +might have preserved his fair reputation had not a noble lady of +Provence, whom he had already debauched, carried her blind, doting +fondness to the extent of entrusting him, perhaps for her religious +training, with the care of a charming child of twelve, Madeline de la +Palud, a girl of fair complexion and gentle nature. Thereon, Gauffridi +lost his wits, and respected neither the youth nor the holy ignorance, +the utter unreserve of his pupil. + +As she grew older, however, the young highborn girl discovered her +misfortune, in loving thus beneath her, without hope of marriage. To +keep his hold on her, Gauffridi vowed he would wed her before the +Devil, if he might not wed her before God. He soothed her pride by +declaring that he was the Prince of Magicians, and would make her his +queen. He put on her finger a silver ring, engraved with magic +characters. Did he take her to the Sabbath, or only make her believe +she had been there, by confusing her with strange drinks and magnetic +witcheries? Certain it is, at least, that torn by two different +beliefs, full of uneasiness and fear, the girl thenceforth became mad +at certain times, and fell into fits of epilepsy. She was afraid of +being carried off alive by the Devil. She durst no longer stay in her +father’s house, and took shelter in the Ursuline Convent at +Marseilles. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +GAUFFRIDI: 1610. + + +The order of Ursuline nuns seemed to be the calmest, the least +irrational of them all. They were not wholly idle, but found some +little employment in the bringing up of young girls. The Catholic +reaction which, aiming at a higher flight of ecstasy than was possible +at that time even in Spain, had foolishly built a number of convents, +Carmelite, Bernardine, and Capuchin, soon found itself at the end of +its motive-powers. The girls of whom people got rid by shutting them +up so strictly therein, died off immediately, and their swift decease +led to frightful statements of the cruelty shown by their families. +They perished, indeed, not by their excessive penances, but rather of +heart-sickness and despair. After the first heats of zeal were over, +the dreadful disease of the cloister, described by Cassieu as dating +from the fifteenth century, that crushing, sickening sadness which +came on of an afternoon--that tender listlessness which plunged them +into a state of unutterable exhaustion, speedily wore them away. A few +among them would turn as if raging mad, choking, as it were, with the +exceeding strength of their blood. + +A nun who hoped to die decently, without bequeathing too large a share +of remorse to her kindred, was bound to live on about ten years, the +mean term of life in the cloister. She needed to be let gently down; +and men of sense and experience felt that her days could only be +prolonged by giving her something to do, by leaving her not quite +alone. St. Francis of Sales[87] founded the Visitandine order, whose +duty it was to visit the sick in pairs. Cæsar of Bus and Romillion, +who had established the Teaching Priests in connection with the +Oratorians[88], afterwards ordained what might be called the Teaching +Sisters, the Ursulines, who taught under the direction of the said +priests. The whole thing was under the supervision of the bishops, and +had very little of the monastic about it: the nuns were not shut up +again in cloisters. The Visitandines went out; the Ursulines received, +at any rate, their pupils’ kinsfolk. Both of them had connection with +the world under guardians of good repute. The result was a certain +mediocrity. Though the Oratorians and the Doctrinaries numbered among +them persons of high merit, the general character of the order was +uniformly moderate, commonplace; it took care never to soar too high. +Romillion, founder of the Ursulines, was an oldish man, a convert +from Protestantism, who had roamed everywhere, and come back again to +his starting point. He deemed his young Provencials wise enough +already, and counted on keeping his little flock on the slender +pasturage of an Oratorian faith, at once monotonous and rational. And +being such, it came in time to be utterly wearisome. One fine morning +all had disappeared. + + [87] St. Francis of Sales, famous for his successful missions + among the Protestants, and Bishop of Geneva in his later + years, died in 1622.--TRANS. + + [88] The Brethren of the Oratory, founded at Rome in + 1564.--TRANS. + +Gauffridi, the mountaineer of Provence, the travelled mystic, the man +of strong feelings and restless mind, had quite another effect upon +them, when he came thither as Madeline’s ghostly guide. They felt a +certain power, and by those who had already passed out of their wild, +amorous youth, were doubtless assured that it was nothing less than a +power begotten of the Devil. All were seized with fear, and more than +one with love also. Their imaginations soared high; their heads began +to turn. Already six or seven may be seen weeping, shrieking, yelling, +fancying themselves caught by the Devil. Had the Ursulines lived in +cloisters, within high walls, Gauffridi, being their only director, +might one way or another have made them all agree. As in the cloisters +of Quesnoy, in 1491, so here also it might have happened that the +Devil, who gladly takes the form of one beloved, had under that of +Gauffridi made himself lover-general to the nuns. Or rather, as in +those Spanish cloisters named by Llorente, he would have persuaded +them that the priestly office hallowed those to whom the priest made +love, that to sin with him, was only to be sanctified. A notion, +indeed, ripe through France, and even in Paris, where the mistresses +of priests were called “the hallowed ones.”[89] + + [89] Lestoile, edit. Michaud, p. 561. + +Did Gauffridi, thus master of all, keep to Madeline only? Did not the +lover change into the libertine? We know not. The sentence points to a +nun who never showed herself during the trial, but reappeared at the +end, as having given herself up to the Devil and to him. + +The Ursuline convent was open to all visitors. The nuns were under the +charge of their Doctrinaries, men of fair character, and jealous +withal. The founder himself was there, indignant, desperate. How +woeful a mishap for the rising order, just as it was thriving amain +and spreading all over France! After all its pretensions to wisdom, +calmness, good sense, thus suddenly to go mad! Romillion would have +hushed up the matter if he could. He caused one of his priests to +exorcise the maidens. But the demons laughed the exorciser to scorn. +He who dwelt in the fair damsel, even the noble demon Beelzebub, +Spirit of Pride, never deigned to unclose his teeth. + +Among the possessed was one sister from twenty to twenty-five years +old, who had been specially adopted by Romillion; a girl of good +culture, bred up in controversy; a Protestant by birth, but left an +orphan, to fall into the hands of the Father, a convert like herself +from Protestantism. Her name, Louisa Capeau, sounds plebeian. She +showed herself but too clearly a girl of exceeding wit, and of a +raging passion. Her strength, moreover, was fearful to see. For three +months, in addition to the hellish storm within, she carried on a +desperate struggle, which would have killed the strongest man in a +week. + +She said she had three devils: Verrine, a good Catholic devil, a +volatile spirit of the air; Leviathan, a wicked devil, an arguer and a +Protestant; lastly, another, acknowledged by her to be the spirit of +uncleanness. One other she forgot to name, the demon of jealousy. + +She bore a savage hate to the little fair-faced damsel, the favoured +rival, the proud young woman of rank. This latter, in one of her fits, +had said that she went to the Sabbath, where she was made queen, and +received homage, and gave herself up, but only to the prince--“What +prince?” To Louis Gauffridi, prince of magicians. + +Pierced by this revelation as by a dagger, Louisa was too wild to +doubt its truth. Mad herself, she believed the mad woman’s story in +order to ruin her. Her own devil was backed by all the jealous demons. +The women all exclaimed that Gauffridi was the very king of wizards. +The report spread everywhere, that a great prize had been taken, a +priest-king of magicians, even the prince of universal magic. Such was +the dreadful diadem of steel and flame which these feminine demons +drove into his brow. + +Everyone lost his head, even to old Romillion himself. Whether from +hatred of Gauffridi, or fear of the Inquisition, he took the matter +out of the bishop’s hands, and brought his two bewitched ones, Louisa +and Madeline, to the Convent of Sainte-Baume, whose prior was the +Dominican Michaëlis, papal inquisitor in the Pope’s domain of Avignon, +and, as he himself pretended, over all Provence. The great point was +to get them exorcised. But as the two women were obliged to accuse +Gauffridi, the business ended in making him fall into the hands of the +Inquisition. + +Michaëlis had to preach on Advent Sunday at Aix, before the +Parliament. He felt how much so striking a drama would exalt him. He +grasped at it with all the eagerness of a barrister in a Criminal +Court, when a very dramatic murder, or a curious case of adultery +comes before him. + +The right thing in matters of this sort was, to spin out the play +through Advent, Christmas, Lent, and burn no one before the Holy Week, +the vigil, as it were, of the great day of Easter. Michaëlis kept +himself for the last act, entrusting the bulk of the business to a +Flemish Dominican in his service, Doctor Dompt, from Louvain, who had +already exorcised, was well-skilled in fooleries of that nature. + +The best thing the Fleming could do, was to do nothing. In Louisa, he +found a terrible helpmate, with thrice as much zeal in her as the +Inquisition itself, unquenchable in her rage, of a burning eloquence, +whimsical, and sometimes very odd, but always raising a shudder; a +very torch of Hell. + +The matter was reduced to a public duel between the two devils, Louisa +and Madeline. + +Some simple folk who came thither on a pilgrimage to Sainte-Baume, a +worthy goldsmith, for instance, and a draper, both from Troyes, in +Champagne, were charmed to see Louisa’s devil deal such cruel blows at +the other demons, and give so sound a thrashing to the magicians. They +wept for joy, and went away thanking God. + +It is a terrible sight, however, even in the dull wording of the +Fleming’s official statement, to look upon this unequal strife; to +watch the elder woman, the strong and sturdy Provencial, come of a +race hard as the flints of its native Crau, as day after day she +stones, knocks down, and crushes her young and almost childish victim, +who, wasted with love and shame, has already been fearfully punished +by her own distemper, her attacks of epilepsy. + +The Fleming’s volume, which, with the additions made by Michaëlis, +reaches to four hundred pages in all, is one condensed epitome of the +invectives, threats, and insults spewed forth by this young woman in +five months; interspersed with sermons also, for she used to preach on +every subject, on the sacraments, on the next coming of Antichrist, on +the frailty of women, and so forth. Thence, on the mention of her +devils, she fell into the old rage, and renewed twice a-day, the +execution of the poor little girl; never taking breath, never for one +minute staying the frightful torrent, until at least the other in her +wild distraction, “with one foot in hell”--to use her own +words--should have fallen into a convulsive fit, and begun beating the +flags with her knees, her body, her swooning head. + +It must be acknowledged that Louisa herself is a trifle mad: no amount +of mere knavishness would have enabled her to maintain so long a +wager. But her jealousy points with frightful clearness to every +opening by which she may prick or rend the sufferer’s heart. + +Everything gets turned upside down. This Louisa, possessed of the +Devil, takes the sacrament whenever she pleases. She scolds people of +the highest authority. The venerable Catherine of France, the oldest +of the Ursulines, came to see the wonder, asked her questions, and at +the very outset caught her telling a flagrant and stupid falsehood. +The impudent woman got out of the mess by saying in the name of her +evil spirit, “The Devil is the Father of Lies.” + +A sensible Minorite who was present, took up the word and said, “Now, +thou liest.” Turning to the exorcisers, he added, “Cannot ye make her +hold her tongue?” Then he quoted to them the story of one Martha, a +sham demoniac of Paris. By way of answer, she was made to take the +communion before him. The Devil communicate, the Devil receive the +body of God! The poor man was bewildered; humbled himself before the +Inquisition. They were too many for him, so he said not another word. + +One of Louisa’s tricks was to frighten the bystanders, by saying she +could see wizards among them; which made every one tremble for +himself. + +Triumphant over Sainte-Baume, she hits out even at Marseilles. Her +Flemish exorciser, being reduced to the strange part of secretary and +bosom-counsellor to the Devil, writes, under her dictation, five +letters: first, to the Capuchins of Marseilles, that they may call +upon Gauffridi to recant; second, to the same Capuchins, that they may +arrest Gauffridi, bind him fast with a stole, and keep him prisoner in +a house of her describing; thirdly, several letters to the moderate +party, to Catherine of France, to the Doctrinal Priests, who had +declared against her; and then this lewd, outrageous termagant ends +with insulting her own prioress: “When I left, you bade me be humble +and obedient. Now take back your own advice.” + +Her devil Verrine, spirit of air and wind, whispered to her some +trivial nonsense, words of senseless pride which harmed friends and +foes, and the Inquisition itself. One day she took to laughing at +Michaëlis, who was shivering at Aix, preaching in a desert while all +the world was gone to hear strange things at Sainte-Baume. “Michaëlis, +you preach away, indeed, but you get no further forward; while Louisa +has reached, has caught hold of the quintessence of all perfection.” + +This savage joy was mainly caused by her having quite conquered +Madeline at last. One word had done more for her than a hundred +sermons: “Thou shalt be burnt.” Thenceforth in her distraction the +young girl said whatever the other pleased, and upheld her statements +in the meanest way. Humbling herself before them all, she besought +forgiveness of her mother, of her superior Romillion, of the +bystanders, of Louisa. According to the latter, the frightened girl +took her aside, and begged her to be merciful, not to chasten her too +much. + +The other woman, tender as a rock and merciful as a hidden reef, felt +that Madeline was now hers, to do whatever she might choose. She +caught her, folded her round, and bedazed her out of what little +spirit she had left. It was a second enchantment; but all unlike that +by Gauffridi, a _possession_ by means of terror. The poor downtrodden +wretch, moving under rod and scourge, was pushed onward in a path of +exquisite suffering which led her to accuse and murder the man she +loved still. + +Had Madeline stood out, Gauffridi would have escaped, for every one +was against Louisa. Michaëlis himself at Aix, eclipsed by her as a +preacher, treated by her with so much coolness, would have stopped the +whole business rather than leave the honour of it in her hands. + +Marseilles supported Gauffridi, being fearful of seeing the +Inquisition of Avignon pushed into her neighbourhood, and one of her +own children carried off from her threshold. The Bishop and Chapter +were specially eager to defend their priest, maintaining that the +whole affair sprang from nothing but a rivalry between confessors, +nothing but the hatred commonly shown by monks towards secular +priests. + +The Doctrinaries would have quashed the matter. They were sore +troubled by the noise it made. Some of them in their annoyance were +ready to give up everything and forsake their house. + +The ladies were very wroth, especially Madame Libertat, the lady of +the Royalist leader who had given Marseilles up to the King. + +The Capuchins whom Louisa had so haughtily commanded to seize on +Gauffridi, were, like all other of the Franciscan orders, enemies of +the Dominicans. They were jealous of the prominence gained for these +latter by their demoniac friend. Their wandering life, moreover, by +throwing them into continual contact with the women, brought them a +good deal of moral business. They had no wish to see too close a +scrutiny made into the lives of clergymen; and so they also took the +side of Gauffridi. Demoniacs were not so scarce, but that one was +easily found and brought forward at the first summons. Her devil, +obedient to the rope-girdle of St. Francis, gainsaid everything said +by the Dominicans’ devil: it averred--and the words were straightway +written down--that “Gauffridi was no magician at all, and could not +therefore be arrested.” + +They were not prepared for this at Sainte-Baume. Louisa seemed +confounded. She could only manage to say that apparently the Capuchins +had not made their devil swear to tell the truth: a sorry reply, +backed up, however, by the trembling Madeline, who, like a beaten +hound that fears yet another beating, was ready for anything, ready +even to bite and tear. Through her it was that Louisa at such a crisis +inflicted an awful bite. + +She herself merely said that the Bishop was offending God unawares. +She clamoured against “the wizards of Marseilles” without naming any +one. But the cruel, the deadly word was spoken at her command by +Madeline. A woman who had lost her child two years before, was pointed +out by her as having throttled it. Afraid of being tortured, she fled +or hid herself. Her husband, her father, went weeping to Sainte-Baume, +hoping of course to soften the inquisitors. But Madeline durst not +unsay her words; so she renewed the charge. + +No one now could feel safe. As soon as the Devil came to be accounted +God’s avenger, from the moment that people under his dictation began +writing the names of those who should pass through the fire, every one +had before him, day and night, the hideous nightmare of the stake. + +To withstand these bold attempts of the Papal Inquisition, Marseilles +ought to have been backed up by the Parliament of Aix. Unluckily she +knew herself to be little liked at Aix. That small official town of +magistrates and nobles was always jealous of the wealth and splendour +of Marseilles, the Queen of the South. On the other hand, the great +opponent of Marseilles, the Papal Inquisitor, forestalled Gauffridi’s +appeal to the Parliament by carrying his own suit thither first. This +was a body of utter fanatics, headed by some heavy nobles, whose +wealth had been greatly increased in a former century by the massacre +of the Vaudois. As lay judges, too, they were charmed to see a Papal +Inquisitor set the precedent of acknowledging that, in a matter +touching a priest, in a case of witchcraft, the Inquisition could not +go beyond the preliminary inquiry. It was just as though the +inquisitors had formally laid aside their old pretensions. The people +of Aix, like those of Bordeaux before them, were also bitten by the +flattering thought, that these lay-folk had been set up by the Church +herself as censors and reformers of the priestly morals. + +In a business where all would needs be strange and miraculous, not +least among those marvels was it to see so raging a demon grow all at +once so fair-spoken towards the Parliament, so politic and +fine-mannered. Louisa charmed the Royalists by her praises of the late +King. Henry IV.--who would have thought it?--was canonized by the +Devil. One morning, without any invitation, he broke forth into +praises of “that pious and saintly King who had just gone up to +heaven.” + +Such an agreement between two old enemies, the Parliament and the +Inquisition, which latter was thenceforth sure of the secular arm, its +soldiers, and executioner; this and the sending of a commission to +Sainte-Baume to examine the possessed, take down their statements, +hear their charges, and impannel a jury, made up a frightful business +indeed. Louisa openly pointed out the Capuchins, Gauffridi’s +champions, and proclaimed “their coming punishment _temporally_” in +their bodies, and in their flesh. + +The poor Fathers were sorely bruised. Their devil would not whisper +one word. They went to find the Bishop, and told him that indeed they +might not refuse to bring Gauffridi forward at Sainte-Baume, in +obedience to the secular power; but afterwards the Bishop and Chapter +could claim him back, and replace him under the shelter of episcopal +justice. + +Doubtless they had also reckoned on the agitation that would be shown +by the two young women at the sight of one they loved; on the extent +to which even the terrible Louisa might be shaken by the reproaches of +her own heart. + +That heart indeed woke up at the guilty one’s approach: for one moment +the furious woman seemed to grow tender. I know nothing more fiery +than her prayer for God to save the man she has driven to death: +“Great God, I offer thee all the sacrifices that have been offered +since the world began, that will be offered until it ends. All, all, +for Lewis. I offer thee all the tears of every saint, all the +transports of every angel. All, all, for Lewis. Oh, that there were +yet more souls to reckon up, that so the oblation might be all the +greater! It should be all for Lewis. O God, the Father of Heaven, have +pity on Lewis! O God the Son, Redeemer of the world, have pity on +Lewis!” &c. + +Bootless pity! baneful as well as bootless! Her real desire was that +the accused _should not harden his heart_, should plead guilty. In +that case by our laws he would most assuredly be burnt. + +She herself, in short, was worn out, unable to do anything more. The +inquisitor Michaëlis was so humbled by a victory he could not have +gained without her, so wroth with the Flemish exorciser who had become +her obedient follower, and let her see into all the hidden springs of +the tragedy, that he came simply to crush Louisa, and save Madeline by +substituting the one for the other, if he could, in this popular +drama. This move of his implies some skill, and a knowing eye for +scenery. The winter and the Advent season had been wholly taken up +with the acting of that awful sibyl, that raging bacchante. In the +milder days of a Provencial spring, in the season of Lent, he would +bring upon the scene a more moving personage, a demon all womanly, +dwelling in a sick child, in a fair-haired frightened girl. The nobles +and the Parliament of Provence would feel an interest in a little lady +who belonged to an eminent house. + +Far from listening to his Flemish agent, Louisa’s follower, Michaëlis +shut the door upon him when he sought to enter the select council of +Parliament-men. A Capuchin who also came, on the first words spoken by +Louisa, cried out, “Silence, accursed devil!” + +Meanwhile Gauffridi had arrived at Sainte-Baume, where he cut a sorry +figure. A man of sense, but weak and blameworthy, he foreboded but too +truly how that kind of popular tragedy would end; and in coming to a +strait so dreadful, he saw himself forsaken and betrayed by the child +he loved. He now entirely forsook himself. When he was confronted with +Louisa, she seemed to him like a judge, like one of those cruel and +subtle schoolmen who judged the causes of the Church. To all her +questions concerning doctrine, he only answered _yes_, assenting even +to points most open to dispute; as, for instance, to the assumption +“that the Devil in a court of justice might be believed on his word +and his oath.” + +This lasted only a week, from the 1st to the 8th January. The clergy +of Marseilles demanded Gauffridi back. His friends, the Capuchins, +declared that they had found no signs of magic in his room. Four +canons of Marseilles came with authority to take him, and carried him +away home. + +If Gauffridi had fallen very low, his adversaries had not risen much. +Even the two inquisitors, Michaëlis and the Fleming, were in shameful +variance with each other. The partiality of the former for Madeline, +of the latter for Louisa, went beyond mere words, leading them into +opposite lines of action. That chaos of accusations, sermons, +revelations, which the Devil had dictated by the mouth of Louisa, the +Fleming who wrote it down maintained to be the very word of God, and +expressed his fear that somebody might tamper with the same. He owned +to a great mistrust of his chief, Michaëlis, who, he was sore afraid, +would so amend the papers in behalf of Madeline, as to ensure the ruin +of Louisa. To guard them to the best of his power, he shut himself up +in his room and underwent a regular siege. Michaëlis, with the +Parliament-men on his side, could only get at the manuscript by using +the King’s name and breaking the door open. + +Louisa, afraid of nothing, sought to array the Pope against the King. +The Fleming carried an appeal to the legate at Avignon, against his +chief, Michaëlis. But the Papal Court had a prudent fear of causing +scandal by letting one inquisitor accuse another. Lacking its support, +the Fleming had no resource but to submit. To keep him quiet Michaëlis +gave him back his papers. + +Those of Michaëlis, forming a second report, dull and nowise +comparable with the former, are full of nought but Madeline. They +played music to try and soothe her: care was taken to note down when +she ate, and when she did not eat. Too much time indeed was taken up +about her, often in a way but little edifying. Strange questions are +put to her touching the Magician, and what parts of his body might +bear the mark of the Devil. She herself was examined. This would have +to be done at Aix by surgeons and doctors; but meanwhile, in the +height of his zeal, Michaëlis examined her at Sainte-Baume, and put +down the issue of his researches. No matron was called to see her. The +judges, lay and monkish, agreeing in this one matter, and having no +fear of each other’s overlooking, seem to have quietly passed over +this contempt of outward forms. + +In Louisa, however, they found a judge. The bold woman branded the +indecency as with hot iron. “They who were swallowed up by the Flood +never behaved so ill!... Even of thee, O Sodom, the like was never +said!” + +She also averred that Madeline was given over to uncleanness. This was +the saddest thing of all. In her blind joy at being alive, at escaping +the flames, or else from some cloudy notion that it was her turn now +to act upon her judges, the poor simpleton would sing and dance at +times with a shameful freedom, in a coarse, indecent way. The old +Doctrinal father, Romillion, blushed for his Ursuline. Shocked to +remark the admiration of the men for her long hair, he said that such +a vanity must be taken from her, be cut away. + +In her better moments she was gentle and obedient. + +They would have liked to make her a second Louisa; but her devils were +vain and amorous; not, like the other’s, eloquent and raging. When +they wanted her to preach, she could only utter sorry things. +Michaëlis was fain to play out the piece by himself. As chief +inquisitor, and bound greatly to outdo his Flemish underling, he +avowed that he had already drawn out of this small body a host of six +thousand, six hundred, and sixty devils: only a hundred still +remained. By way of convincing the public, he made her throw up the +charm or spell which by his account she had swallowed, and he drew it +from her mouth in some slimy matter. Who could hold out any longer? +Assurance itself stood stupefied and convinced. + +Madeline was in a fair way to escape: the only hindrance was herself. +Every moment she would be saying something rash, something to arouse +the misgivings of her judges, and urge them beyond all patience. She +declared that everything to her recalled Gauffridi, that everywhere +she saw him present. Nor would she hide from them her dreams of love. +“To-night,” she said, “I was at the Sabbath. To my statue all covered +with gilding the magicians offered their homage. Each of them, in +honour thereof, made oblation of some blood drawn from his hands with +a lancet. _He_ was also there, on his knees, a rope round his neck, +beseeching me to go back and betray him not. I held out. Then said he, +‘Is there anyone here who would die for her?’ ‘I,’ said a young man, +and he was sacrificed by the magician.” + +At another time she saw him, and he asked her only for one of her fine +fair locks. “And when I refused, he said, ‘Only the half of one +hair.’” + +She swore, however, that she never yielded. But one day, the door +happening to be open, behold our convert running off at the top of her +speed to rejoin Gauffridi! + +They took her again, at least her body. But her soul? Michaëlis knew +not how to catch that again. Luckily he caught sight of her magic +ring, which was taken off, cut up, destroyed, and thrown into the +fire. Fancying, moreover, that this perverseness on the part of one so +gentle was due to unseen wizards who found their way into her room, he +set there a very substantial man at arms, with a sword to slash about +him everywhere, and cut the invisible imps into pieces. + +But the best physic for the conversion of Madeline was the death of +Gauffridi. On the 5th February, the inquisitor went to Aix for his +Lent preachings, saw the judges, and stirred them up. The Parliament, +swiftly yielding to such a pressure, sent off to Marseilles an order +to seize the rash man, who, finding himself so well backed by Bishop, +Chapter, Capuchins, and all the world, had fancied they would never +dare so far. + +Madeline from one quarter, Gauffridi from another, arrived at Aix. She +was so disturbed that they were forced to bind her. Her disorder was +frightful, and all were in great perplexity what to do. They bethought +them at least of one bold way of dealing with this sick child; one of +those fearful tricks that throw a woman into fits, and sometimes kill +her outright. A vicar-general of the archbishopric said that the +palace contained a dark narrow charnel-house, such as you may see in +the Escurial, and called in Spain a “rotting vat.” + +There, in olden days, old bones of unknown dead were left to waste +away. Into this tomb-like cave the trembling girl was led. They +exorcised her by putting those chilly bones to her face. She did not +die of fright, but thenceforth gave herself up to their will and +pleasure; and so they got what they wanted, the death of the +conscience, the destruction of all that remained to her of moral +insight and free will. + +She became their pliant tool, ready to obey their least desire, to +flatter them, to try and guess beforehand what would give them most +pleasure. Huguenots were brought before her: she called them names. +Confronted with Gauffridi, she told forth by heart her grievances +against him, better than the King’s own officers could have done. This +did not prevent her from squalling violently, when she was brought to +the church to excite the people against Gauffridi, by making her devil +blaspheme in the magician’s name. Beelzebub speaking through her said, +“In the name of Gauffridi I abjure God;” and again, at the lifting up +of the Host, “Let the blood of the just be upon me, in the name of +Gauffridi!” + +An awful fellowship indeed! This twofold devil condemns one out of the +other’s mouth; whatever Madeline says, is ascribed to Gauffridi. And +the scared crowd were impatient to behold the burning of the dumb +blasphemer, whose ungodliness so loudly declared itself by the voice +of the girl. + +The exorcisers then put to her this cruel question, to which they +themselves could have given the best answer:--“Why, Beelzebub, do you +speak so ill of your great friend?” Her answer was frightful: “If +there be traitors among men, why not among demons also? When I am with +Gauffridi, I am his to do all his will. But when you constrain me, I +betray him and turn him to scorn.” + +However, she could not keep up this hateful mockery. Though the demon +of fear and fawning seemed to have gotten fast hold of her, there was +room still for despair. She could no longer take the slightest food; +and they who for five months had been killing her with exorcisms and +pretending to relieve her of six or seven thousand devils, were fain +to admit that she longed only to die, and greedily sought after any +means of self-destruction. Courage alone was wanting to her. Once she +pricked herself with a lancet, but lacked the spirit to persevere. +Once she caught up a knife, and when that was taken from her, tried to +strangle herself. She dug needles into her body, and then made one +last foolish effort to drive a long pin through her ear into her head. + +What became of Gauffridi? The inquisitor, who dwells so long on the +two women, says almost nothing about him. He walks as it were over +the fire. The little he does say is very strange. He relates that +having bound Gauffridi’s eyes, they pricked him with needles all over +the body, to find out the callous places where the Devil had made his +mark. On the removal of the bandage, he learned, to his horror and +amazement, that the needle had thrice been stuck into him without his +feeling it; so he was marked in three places with the sign of Hell. +And the inquisitor added, “If we were in Avignon, this man should be +burnt to-morrow.” + +He felt himself a lost man; and defended himself no more. His only +thought now was to see if he could save his life through any of the +Dominicans’ foes. He wished, he said, to confess himself to the +Oratorians. But this new order, which might have been called the right +mean of Catholicism, was too cold and wary to take up a matter already +so hopeless and so far advanced. + +Thereon he went back again to the Begging Friars, confessing himself +to the Capuchins, and acknowledging all and more than all the truth, +that he might purchase life with dishonour. In Spain he would +assuredly have been enlarged, barring a term of penance in some +convent. But our Parliaments were sterner: they felt bound to prove +the greater purity of the lay jurisdiction. The Capuchins, themselves +a little shaky in the matter of morals, were not the people to draw +the lightning down on their own body. They surrounded Gauffridi, +sheltered him, gave him comfort day and night; but only in order that +he might own himself a magician, and so, because magic formed the main +head of his indictment, the seduction wrought by a confessor to the +great discredit of the clergy might be left entirely in the +background. + +So his friends the Capuchins, by dint of tender caresses and urgent +counsel, drew from him the fatal confession which, by their showing, +was to save his soul, but which was very certain to hand his body over +to the stake. + +The man thus lost and done for, they made an end with the girls whom +it was not their part to burn. A farcical scene took place. In a large +gathering of the clergy and the Parliament, Madeline was made to +appear, and, in words addressed to herself, her devil Beelzebub was +summoned to quit the place or else offer some opposition. Not caring +to do the latter, he went off in disgrace. + +Then Louisa, with her demon Verrine, was made to appear. But before +they drove away a spirit so friendly to the Church, the monks regaled +the Parliamentaries, who were new to such things, with the clever +management of this devil, making him perform a curious pantomime. “How +do the Seraphim, the Cherubim, the Thrones, behave before God?” “A +hard matter this:” says Louisa, “they have no bodies.” But on their +repeating the command, she made an effort to obey, imitating the +flight of the one class, the fiery longing of the others; and ending +with the adoration, when she bowed herself before the judges, falling +prostrate with her head downwards. Then was the far-famed Louisa, so +proud and so untamable, seen to abase herself, kissing the pavement, +and with outstretched arms laying all her length thereon. + +It was a strange, frivolous, unseemly exhibition, by which she was +made to atone for her terrible success among the people. Once more she +won the assembly by dealing a cruel dagger-stroke at Gauffridi, who +stood there strongly bound. “Where,” said they, “is Beelzebub now, the +devil who went out of Madeline?” “I see him plainly at Gauffridi’s +ear.” + +Have you had shame and horror enough? We should like further to know +what the poor wretch said, when put to the torture. Both the ordinary +and the extraordinary forms were used upon him. His revelations must +undoubtedly have thrown light on the curious history of the nunneries. +Those tales the Parliament stored up with greediness, as weapons that +might prove serviceable to itself; but it retained them “under the +seal of the Court.” + +The inquisitor Michaëlis, who was fiercely assailed in public for an +excess of animosity so closely resembling jealousy, was summoned by +his order to a meeting at Paris, and never saw the execution of +Gauffridi, who was burnt alive four days afterwards, 30th April, 1611, +at Aix. + +The name of the Dominicans, damaged by this trial, was not much +exalted by another case of _possession_ got up at Beauvais in such a +way as to ensure them all the honours of a war, the account of which +they got printed in Paris. Louisa’s devil having been reproached for +not speaking Latin, the new demoniac, Denise Lacaille, mingled a few +words of it in her gibberish. They made a plenty of noise about her, +often displayed her in the midst of a procession, and even carried her +from Beauvais to Our Lady of Liesse. But the matter kept quite cool. +This Picard pilgrimage lacked the horror, the dramatic force of the +affair at Sainte-Baume. This Lacaille, for all her Latin, had neither +the burning eloquence, nor the mettle, nor the fierce rage, that +marked the woman of Provence. The only end of all her proceedings was +to amuse the Huguenots. + +What became of the two rivals, Madeline and Louisa? The former, or at +least her shadow, was kept on Papal ground, for fear of her being led +to speak about so mournful a business. She was never shown in public, +save in the character of a penitent. She was taken out among the poor +women to cut wood, which was afterwards sold for alms; the parents, +whom she had brought to shame, having forsworn and forsaken her. + +Louisa, for her part, had said during the trial: “I shall make no +boast about it. The trial over, I shall soon be dead.” But this was +not to be. Instead of dying, she went on killing others. The +murdering devil within her waxed stormier than ever. She set about +revealing to the inquisitors the names, both Christian and surnames, +of all whom she fancied to have any dealings with magic; among others +a poor girl named Honoria, “blind of both eyes,” who was burnt alive. + +“God grant,” says Father Michaëlis, in conclusion, “that all this may +redound to His own glory and to that of His Church!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE DEMONIACS OF LOUDUN--URBAN GRANDIER: 1632-1634. + + +In the _State Memoirs_, written by the famous Father Joseph, and known +to us by extracts only--the work itself having, no doubt, been wisely +suppressed as too instructive--the good Father explained how, in 1633, +he had the luck to discover a heresy, a huge heresy, in which ever so +many confessors and directors were concerned. That excellent army of +Church-constables, those dogs of the Holy Troop, the Capuchins, had, +not only in the wildernesses, but even in the populous parts of +France--at Chartres, in Picardy, everywhere--got scent of some +dreadful game; the _Alumbrados_ namely, or Illuminate, of Spain, who +being sorely persecuted there, had fled for shelter into France, +where, in the world of women, especially among the convents, they +dropped the gentle poison which was afterwards called by the name of +Molinos.[90] + + [90] Molinos, born at Saragossa in 1627, died a prisoner to + the Inquisition in 1696. His followers were called + Quietists.--TRANS. + +The wonder was, that the matter had not been sooner known. Having +spread so far, it could not have been wholly hidden. The Capuchins +swore that in Picardy alone, where the girls are weak and +warmer-blooded than in the South, this amorously mystic folly owned +some sixty thousand professors. Did all the clergy share in it--all +the confessors and directors? We must remember, that attached to the +official directors were a good many laymen, who glowed with the same +zeal for the souls of women. One of them, who afterwards made some +noise by his talent and boldness, is the author of _Spiritual +Delights_, Desmarets of Saint Sorlin. + + * * * * * + +Without remembering the new state of things, we should fail to +understand the all-powerful attitude of the director towards the nuns, +of whom he was now a hundred-fold more the master than he had been in +days of yore. + +The reforming movement of the Council of Trent, for the better +enclosing of monasteries, was not much followed up in the reign of +Henry IV., when the nuns received company, gave balls, danced, and so +forth. In the reign, however, of Louis XIII., it began afresh with +greater earnestness. The Cardinal Rochefoucauld, or rather the Jesuits +who drew him on, insisted on a great deal of outward decency. Shall we +say, then, that all entrance into the convents was forbidden? One man +only went in every day, not only into the house, but also, if he +chose, into each of the cells; a fact made evident from several known +cases, especially that of David at Louviers. By this reform, this +closing system, the door was shut upon the world at large, on all +inconvenient rivals, while the director enjoyed the sole command of +his nuns, the special right of private interviews with them. + +What would come of this? The speculative might treat it as a problem; +not so practical men or physicians. The physician Wyer tells some +plain stories to show what did come of it from the sixteenth century +onwards. In his Fourth Book he quotes a number of nuns who went mad +for love. And in Book III. he talks of an estimable Spanish priest +who, going by chance into a nunnery, came out mad, declaring that the +brides of Jesus were his also, brides of the priest, who was a vicar +of Jesus. He had masses said in return for the favour which God had +granted him in this speedy marriage with a whole convent. + +If this was the result of one passing visit, we may understand the +plight of a director of nuns when he was left alone with them, and +could take advantage of the new restrictions to spend the day among +them, listening hour by hour to the perilous secret of their +languishings and their weaknesses. + +In the plight of these girls the mere senses are not all in all. +Allowance must be made for their listlessness of mind; for the +absolute need of some change in their way of life; of some dream or +diversion to relieve their lifelong monotony. Strange things are +happening constantly at this period. Travels, events in the Indies, +the discovery of a world, the invention of printing: what romance +there is everywhere! While all this goes on without, putting men’s +minds into a flutter, how, think you, can those within bear up against +the oppressive sameness of monastic life--the irksomeness of its +lengthy services, seasoned by nothing better than a sermon preached +through the nose? + + * * * * * + +The laity themselves, living amidst so many distractions, desire, nay +insist, that their confessors shall absolve them for their acts of +inconstancy. The priests, on their side, are drawn or forced on, step +by step. There grows up a vast literature, at once various and +learned, of casuistry, of the art of allowing all things; a +progressive literature, in which the indulgence of to-night seems to +become the severity of the morrow. + +This casuistry was meant for the world; that mysticism for the +convent. The annihilation of the person and the death of the will form +the great mystic principle. The true moral bearings of that principle +are well shown by Desmarets. “The devout,” he says, “having offered up +and annihilated their own selves, exist no longer but in God. +_Thenceforth they can do no wrong._ The better part of them is so +divine that it no longer knows what the other is doing.”[91] + + [91] An old doctrine which often turns up again in the Middle + Ages. In the seventeenth century it prevails among the + convents of France and Spain. A Norman angel, in the Louviers + business, teaches a nun to despise the body and disregard the + flesh, after the example of Jesus, who bared himself for a + scourging before all the people. He enforces an utter + surrendering of the soul and the will by the example of the + Virgin, “who obeyed the angel Gabriel and conceived, without + risk of evil, for impurity could not come of a spirit.” At + Louviers, David, an old director of some authority, taught + “that sin could be killed by sin, as the better way of + becoming innocent again.” + +It might have been thought that the zealous Joseph who had raised so +loud a cry of alarm against these corrupt teachers, would have gone +yet further; that a grand searching inquiry would have taken place; +that the countless host whose number, in one province only, were +reckoned at sixty thousand, would be found out and closely examined. +But not so: they disappear, and nothing more is known about them. A +few, it is said, were imprisoned; but trial there was none: only a +deep silence. To all appearance Richelieu cared but little about +fathoming the business. In his tenderness for the Capuchins he was not +so blind as to follow their lead in a matter which would have thrown +the supervision of all confessors into their hands. + +As a rule, the monks had a jealous dislike of the secular clergy. +Entire masters of the Spanish women, they were too dirty to be +relished by those of France; who preferred going to their own priests +or to some Jesuit confessor, an amphious creature, half monk, half +worldling. If Richelieu had once let loose the pack of Capuchins, +Recollects, Carmelites, Dominicans, &c., who among the clergy would +have been safe? What director, what priest, however upright, but had +used, and used amiss, the gentle language of the Quietists towards +their penitents? + +Richelieu took care not to trouble the clergy, while he was already +bringing about the General Assembly from which he was soon to ask a +contribution towards the war. One trial alone was granted the monks, +the trial of a vicar, but a vicar who dealt in magic; a trial wherein +matters were allowed, as in the case of Gauffridi, to get so +entangled, that no confessor, no director, saw his own likeness there, +but everyone in full security could say, “This is not I.” + + * * * * * + +Thanks to these strict precautions the Grandier affair is involved in +some obscurity.[92] Its historian, the Capuchin Tranquille, proves +convincingly that Grandier was a wizard, and, still more, a devil; and +on the trial he is called, as Ashtaroth might have been called, +_Grandier of the Dominations_. On the other hand, Ménage is ready to +rank him with great men accused of magic, with the martyrs of free +thought. + + [92] The _History of the Loudun Devils_, by the Protestant + Aubin, is an earnest, solid book, confirmed by the _Reports_ + of Laubardemont himself. That of the Capuchin Tranquille is a + piece of grotesquerie. The _Proceedings_ are in the Great + Library of Paris. M. Figuier has given a long and excellent + account of the whole affair, in his _History of the + Marvellous_. + +In order to see a little more clearly, we must not set Grandier by +himself; we must keep his place in the devilish trilogy of those +times, in which he figured only as a second act; we must explain him +by the first act, already shown to us in the dreadful business of +Sainte-Baume, and the death of Gauffridi; we must explain him by the +third act, by the affair at Louviers, which copied Loudun, as Loudun +had copied Sainte-Baume, and which in its turn owned a Gauffridi and +an Urban Grandier. + +The three cases are one and selfsame. In each case there is a +libertine priest, in each a jealous monk, and a frantic nun by whose +mouth the Devil is made to speak; and in all three the priest gets +burnt at last. + +And here you may notice one source of light which makes these matters +clearer to our eyes than if we saw them through the miry shades of a +monastery in Spain or Italy. In those lands of Southern laziness, the +nuns were astoundingly passive, enduring the life of the seraglio and +even worse.[93] Our French women, on the contrary, gifted with a +personality at once strong, lively, and hard to please, were equally +dreadful in their jealousy and in their hate; and being devils indeed +without metaphor, were accordingly rash, blusterous, and prompt to +accuse. Their revelations were very plain, so plain indeed at the +last, that everyone felt ashamed; and after thirty years and three +special cases, the whole thing, begun as it was through terror, got +fairly extinguished in its own dulness beneath hisses of general +disgust. + + [93] See Del Rio, Llorente Ricci, &c. + +It was not in Loudun, amidst crowds of Poitevins, in the presence of +so many scoffing Huguenots, in the very town where they held their +great national synods, that one would have looked for an event so +discreditable to the Catholics. But these latter, living, as it were, +in a conquered country,[94] in the old Protestant towns, with the +greatest freedom, and thinking, not without cause, of the people they +had often massacred and but lately overcome, were not the persons to +say a word about it. Catholic Loudun, composed of magistrates, +priests, monks, a few nobles, and some workmen, dwelled aloof from the +rest, like a true conquering settlement. This settlement, as one might +easily guess, was rent in twain by the rivalry of the priests and the +monks. + + [94] The capture of Rochelle, the last of the Huguenot + strongholds took place in 1628.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +The monks, being numerous and proud, as men specially sent forth to +make converts, kept the pick of the pavement against the Protestants, +and were confessing the Catholic ladies, when there arrived from +Bordeaux a young vicar, brought up by the Jesuits, a man of letters, +of pleasing manners, who wrote well and spoke better. He made a noise +in the pulpit, and ere long in the world. By birth a townsman of +Mantes, of a wrangling turn, he was Southern by education, with all +the readiness of a Bordelais, boastful and frivolous as a Gascon. He +soon managed to set the whole town by the ears, drawing the women to +his side, while the men were mostly against him. He became lofty, +insolent, unbearable, devoid of respect for everything. The Carmelites +he overwhelmed with jibes; he would rail away from his pulpit against +monks in general. They choked with rage at his sermons. Proud and +stately, he went along the streets of Loudun like a Father of the +Church; but by night he would steal, with less of bluster, down the +byeways and through back-doors. + +They all surrendered themselves to his pleasure. The wife of the Crown +Counsel was aware of his charms; still more so the daughter of the +Public Prosecutor, who had a child by him. This did not satisfy him. +Master of the ladies, this conqueror pushed his advantage until he had +gained the nuns. + +By that time the Ursulines abounded everywhere, sisters devoted to +education, feminine missionaries in a Protestant land, who courted and +pleased the mothers, while they won over the little girls. The nuns of +Loudun formed a small convent of young ladies, poor and well-born. The +convent in itself was poor, the nuns for whom it was founded, having +been granted nothing but their house, an old Huguenot college. The +prioress, a lady of good birth and high connections, burned to exalt +her nunnery, to enlarge it, make it wealthier and wider known. Perhaps +she would have chosen Grandier, as being then the fashion, had she not +already gotten for her director a priest with very different rootage +in the country, a near kinsman of the two chief magistrates. The +Canon Mignon, as he was called, held the prioress fast. These two were +enraged at learning through the confessional--the “Ladies Superior” +might confess their nuns--that the young nuns dreamed of nothing but +this Grandier, of whom there was so much talk. + +Thereupon three parties, the threatened director, the cheated husband, +the outraged father, joined together by a common jealousy, swore +together the destruction of Grandier. To ensure success, they only +needed to let him go on. He was ruining himself quite fast enough. An +incident that came to light made noise enough almost to bring down the +town. + + * * * * * + +The nuns placed in that old Huguenot mansion, were far from easy in +their minds. Their boarders, children of the town, and perhaps also +some of the younger nuns, had amused themselves with frightening the +rest by playing at ghosts and apparitions. Little enough of order was +there among this throng of rich spoilt girls. They would run about the +passages at night, until they frightened themselves. Some of them were +sick, or else sick at heart. But these fears and fancies mingled with +the gossip of the town, of which they heard but too much during the +day, until the ghost by night took the form of Grandier himself. +Several said they saw him, felt him near them in the night, and +yielded unawares to his bold advances. Was all this fancy, or the fun +of novices? Had Grandier bribed the porteress or ventured to climb +the walls? This part of the business was never cleared up. + +From that time the three felt sure of catching him. And first, among +the small folk under their protection, they stirred up two good souls +to declare that they could no longer keep as vicar a profligate, a +wizard, a devil, a freethinker, who bent one knee in church instead of +two, who scoffed at rules and granted dispensations contrary to the +rights of the Bishop. A shrewd accusation, which turned against him +his natural defender, the Bishop of Poitiers, and delivered him over +to the fury of the monks. + +To say truth, all this was planned with much skill. Besides raising up +two poor people as accusers, they thought it advisable to have him +cudgelled by a noble. In those days of duelling a man who let himself +be cudgelled with impunity lost ground with the public, and sank in +the esteem of the women. Grandier deeply felt the blow. Fond of making +a noise in all cases, he went to the King, threw himself on his knees, +and besought vengeance for the insult to his gown. From so devout a +king he might have gained it; but here there chanced to be some +persons who told the King that it was all an affair of love, the fury +of a betrayed husband wreaking itself on his foe. + +At the spiritual court of Poitiers, Grandier was condemned to do +penance, to be banished from Loudun, and disgraced as a priest. But +the civil court took up the matter and found him innocent. He had +still to await the orders of him by whom Poitiers was spiritually +overruled, Sourdis, Archbishop of Bordeaux. That warlike prelate, an +admiral and brave sailor more than a priest, shrugged his shoulders on +hearing of such peccadilloes. He acquitted the vicar, but at the same +time wisely recommended him to go and live anywhere out of Loudun. + +This the proud man did not care to do. He wanted to enjoy his triumph +on the very field of battle, to show off before the ladies. He came +back to Loudun in broad day, with mighty noise; the women all looking +out of window, as he went by with a laurel-branch in his hand. + + * * * * * + +Not satisfied with that piece of folly, he began to threaten, to +demand reparation. Thus pushed and imperilled in their turn, his +enemies called to remembrance the affair of Gauffridi, where the +Devil, the Father of Lies, was restored to his honours and accepted in +a court of justice as a right truthful witness, worthy of belief on +the side of the Church, worthy of belief on the side of His Majesty’s +servants. In despair they invoked a devil and found one at their +command. He showed himself among the Ursulines. + +A dangerous thing; but then, how many were nearly concerned in its +success! The prioress saw her poor humble convent suddenly attracting +the gaze of the Court, of the provinces, of all the world. The monks +saw themselves victorious over their rivals the priests. They pictured +anew those popular battles waged with the Devil in a former century, +and often, as at Soissons, before the church doors; the terror of the +people, and their joy at the triumph of the Good Spirit; the +confession drawn from the Devil touching God’s presence in the +Sacrament; and the humiliation of the Huguenots at being refuted by +the Demon himself. + +In these tragi-comedies the exorciser represented God, or at any rate +the Archangel, overthrowing the dragon. He came down from the platform +in utter exhaustion, streaming with sweat, but victorious, to be borne +away in the arms of the crowd, amidst the blessings of good women who +shed tears of joy the while. + +Therefore it was that in these trials a dash of witchcraft was always +needful. The Devil alone roused the interest of the vulgar. They could +not always see him coming out of a body in the shape of a black toad, +as at Bordeaux in 1610. But it was easy to make it up to them by a +grand display of splendid stage scenery. The affair of Provence owed +much of its success to Madeline’s desolate wildness and the terror of +Sainte-Baume. Loudun was regaled with the uproar and the bacchanal +frenzy of a host of exorcisers distributed among several churches. +Lastly, Louviers, as we shall presently see, put a little new life +into this fading fashion by inventing midnight scenes, in which the +demons who possessed the nuns began digging by the glimmer of torches, +until they drew forth certain charms from the holes wherein they had +been concealed. + + * * * * * + +The Loudun business began with the prioress and a lay sister of hers. +They had convulsive fits, and talked infernal gibberish. Other of the +nuns began copying them, one bold girl especially taking up Louisa’s +part at Marseilles, with the same devil Leviathan, the leading demon +of trickery and evil speaking. + +The little town was all in a tremble. Monks of every hue provided +themselves with nuns, shared them all round, and exorcised them by +threes and fours. The churches were parcelled out among them; the +Capuchins alone taking two for themselves. The crowd go after them, +swollen by all the women in the place, and in this frightened +audience, throbbing with anxiety, more than one cries out that she, +too, is feeling the devils.[95] Six girls of the town are possessed. +And the bare recital of these alarming events begets two new cases of +possession at Chinon. + + [95] The same hysteric contagion marks the “Revivals” of a + later period, down to the last mad outbreak in Ireland. The + translator hopes some day to work out the physical question + here stated.--TRANS. + +Everywhere the thing was talked of, at Paris, at the Court. Our +Spanish queen,[96] who is imaginative and devout, sends off her +almoner; nay more, sends her faithful follower, the old papist, Lord +Montague, who sees, who believes everything, and reports it all to the +Pope. It is a miracle proven. He had seen the wounds on a certain nun, +and the marks made by the Devil on the Lady Superior’s hands. + + [96] Anne of Austria, wife of Louis XIII.--TRANS. + +What said the King of France to this? All his devotion was turned on +the Devil, on hell, on thoughts of fear. It is said that Richelieu was +glad to keep him thus. I doubt it; the demons were essentially +Spanish, taking the Spanish side: if ever they talked politics, they +must have spoken against Richelieu. Perhaps he was afraid of them. At +any rate, he did them homage, and sent his niece to prove the interest +he took in the matter. + + * * * * * + +The Court believed, but Loudun itself did not. Its devils, but sorry +imitators of the Marseilles demons, rehearsed in the morning what they +had learnt the night before from the well-known handbook of Father +Michaëlis. They would never have known what to say but for the secret +exorcisms, the careful rehearsal of the day’s farce, by which night +after night they were trained to figure before the people. + +One sturdy magistrate, bailiff of the town, made a stir: going himself +to detect the knaves, he threatened and denounced them. Such, too, was +the tacit opinion of the Archbishop of Bordeaux, to whom Grandier +appealed. He despatched a set of rules for the guidance at least of +the exorcisers, for putting a stop to their arbitrary doings; and, +better still, he sent his surgeon, who examined the girls, and found +them to be neither bewitched, nor mad, nor even sick. What were they +then? Knaves, to be sure.[97] + + [97] Not of necessity knaves, Mr. Michelet; at least not + wilfully so; but silly hysteric patients, of the + spirit-rapping, revivalist order, victims of nervous + derangement, or undue nervous sensibility.--TRANS. + +So through the century keeps on this noble duel between the Physician +and the Devil, this battle of light and knowledge with the dark shades +of falsehood. We saw its beginning in Agrippa and Wyer. Doctor Duncan +carried it bravely on at Loudun, and fearlessly impressed on others +the belief that this affair was nothing but a farce. + +For all his alleged resistance, the Demon was frightened, held his +tongue, quite lost his voice. But people’s passions had been too +fiercely roused for the matter to end there. The tide flowed again so +strongly in favour of Grandier, that the assailed became in their turn +assailants. An apothecary of kin to the accusers was sued by a rich +young lady of the town for speaking of her as the vicar’s mistress. He +was condemned to apologise for his slander. + +The prioress was a lost woman. It would have been easy to prove, what +one witness afterwards saw, that the marks upon her were made with +paint renewed daily. But she was kinswoman to one of the King’s +judges, Laubardemont, and he saved her. He was simply charged to +overthrow the strong places of Loudun. He got himself commissioned to +try Grandier. The Cardinal was given to understand that the accused +was vicar and friend of the _Loudun shoemaker_,[98] was one of the +numerous agents of Mary of Medici, had made himself his parishioner’s +secretary, and written a disgraceful pamphlet in her name. + + [98] A woman named Hammon, of low birth, who entered the + service, and rose high in the good graces of Mary of Medici. + See Dumas’ _Celebrated Crimes_.--TRANS. + +Richelieu, for his part, would have liked to show a high-minded scorn +of the whole business, if he could have done so with safety to +himself. The Capuchins and Father Joseph had an eye to that also. +Richelieu would have given them a fine handle against him with the +King, had he displayed a want of zeal. One Quillet, after much grave +reflection, went to see the Minister and give him warning. But the +other, afraid to listen, regarded him with so stern a gaze that the +giver of advice deemed it prudent to seek shelter in Italy. + + * * * * * + +Laubardemont arrived at Loudun on the 6th December, 1633, bringing +along with him great fear, and unbounded powers; even those of the +King himself. The whole strength of the kingdom became, as it were, a +dreadful bludgeon to crush one little fly. + +The magistrates were wroth; the civic lieutenant warned Grandier that +he would have to arrest him on the morrow. The latter paid no heed to +him, and was arrested accordingly. In a moment he was carried off, +without form of trial, to the dungeons of Angers. Presently he was +taken back and thrown, where think you? Into the house, the room of +one of his enemies, who had the windows walled up so as well-nigh to +choke him. The loathsome scrutiny of the wizard’s body, in order to +find out the Devil’s marks by sticking needles all over it, was +carried on by the hands of the accusers themselves, who took their +revenge upon him beforehand in the foretaste thus given him of his +future punishment. + +They led him to the churches, confronted him with the girls, who had +got their cue from Laubardemont. These Bacchanals, for such they +became under the fuddling effect of some drugs administered by the +condemned apothecary above-named, flung out in such frantic rages, +that Grandier was nearly perishing one day beneath their nails. + +Unable to imitate the eloquence of the Marseilles demoniac, they tried +obscenity in its stead. It was a hideous thing to see these girls give +full vent in public to their sensual fury, on the plea of scolding +their pretended devils. Thus indeed it was that they managed to swell +their audiences. People flocked to hear from the lips of these women +what no woman would else have dared to utter. + +As the matter grew more hateful, so it also grew more laughable. They +were sure to repeat all awry what little Latin was ever whispered to +them. The public found that the devils had never gone through _their +lower classes_. The Capuchins, however, coolly said that if these +demons were weak in Latin, they were marvellous speakers of Iroquois +and Tupinambi.[99] + + [99] Indians of the coast of Brazil.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +A farce so shameful, seen from a distance of sixty leagues, from St. +Germain or the Louvre, appeared miraculous, awful, terrifying. The +Court admired and trembled. Richelieu to please them did a cowardly +thing. He ordered money to be paid to the exorcisers, to the nuns. + +The height of favour to which they had risen, drove the plotters +altogether mad. Senseless words were followed by shameful deeds. +Pleading that the nuns were tired, the exorcisers got them outside the +town, took them about by themselves. One of them, at least to all +appearance, returned pregnant. In the fifth or sixth month all outward +trace of it disappeared, and the devil within her acknowledged how +wickedly he had slandered the poor nun by making her look so large. +This tale concerning Loudun we learn from the historian of +Louviers.[100] + + [100] Esprit de Bosroger, p. 135. + +It is stated that Father Joseph, after a secret journey to the spot, +saw to what end the matter was coming, and noiselessly backed out of +it. The Jesuits also went, tried their exorcisms, did next to nothing, +got scent of the general feeling, and stole off in like manner. + +But the monks, the Capuchins, were gone so far, that they could only +save themselves by frightening others. They laid some treacherous +snares for the daring bailiff and his wife, seeking to destroy them, +and thereby quench the coming reaction of justice. Lastly, they urged +on the commissioners to despatch Grandier. Things could be carried no +further: the nuns themselves were slipping out of their hands. After +that dreadful orgie of sensual rage and immodest shouting in order to +obtain the shedding of human blood, two or three of them swooned away, +were seized with disgust and horror; vomited up their very selves. +Despite the hideous doom that awaited them if they spoke the truth, +despite the certainty of ending their days in a dungeon, they owned in +church that they were damned, that they had been playing with the +Devil, and Grandier was innocent. + + * * * * * + +They ruined themselves, but could not stay the issue. A general +protest by the town to the King failed to stay it also. On the 18th +August, 1634, Grandier was condemned to the stake. So violent were his +enemies that, for the second time before burning him, they insisted on +having him stuck with needles in order to find out the Devil’s marks. +One of his judges would have had even his nails torn out of him, had +not the surgeon withheld his leave. + +They were afraid of the last words their victim might say on the +scaffold. Among his papers there had been found a manuscript +condemning the celibacy of priests, and those who called him a wizard +themselves believed him to be a freethinker. They remembered the brave +words which the martyrs of free thought had thrown out against their +judges; they called to mind the last speech of Giordano Bruno, the +bold defiance of Vanini.[101] So they agreed with Grandier, that if he +were prudent, he should be saved from burning, perhaps be strangled. +The weak priest, being a man of flesh, yielded to this demand of the +flesh, and promised to say nothing. He spoke not a word on the road, +nor yet upon the scaffold. When he was fairly fastened to the post, +with everything ready, and the fire so arranged as to enfold him +swiftly in smoke and flames, his own confessor, a monk, set the +faggots ablaze without waiting for the executioner. The victim, +pledged to silence, had only time to say, “So, you have deceived me!” +when the flames whirled fiercely upwards, and the furnace of pain +began, and nothing was audible save the wretch’s screams. + + [101] Both Neapolitans, burnt alive, the former at Venice in + 1600, the latter at Toulouse in 1619.--TRANS. + +Richelieu in his Memoirs says little, and that with evident shame, +concerning this affair. He gives one to believe that he only followed +the reports that reached him, the voice of general opinion. +Nevertheless, by rewarding the exorcisers, by throwing the reins to +the Capuchins, and letting them triumph over France, he gave no slight +encouragement to that piece of knavery. Gauffridi, thus renewed in +Grandier, is about to reappear in yet fouler plight in the Louviers +affair. + +In this very year, 1634, the demons hunted from Poitou pass over into +Normandy, copying again and again the fooleries of Sainte-Baume, +without any trace of invention, of talent, or of imagination. The +frantic Leviathan of Provence, when counterfeited at Loudun, loses his +Southern sting, and only gets out of a scrape by talking fluently to +virgins in the language of Sodom. Presently, alas! at Louviers he +loses even his old daring, imbibes the sluggish temper of the North, +and sinks into a sorry sprite.[102] + + [102] Wright and Dumas both differ from M. Michelet in their + view of Urban Grandier’s character. The latter especially, + regards him as an innocent victim to his own fearlessness and + the hate of his foes, among whom not the least deadly was + Richelieu himself, who bore him a deep personal + grudge.--TRANS. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE DEMONIACS OF LOUVIERS--MADELINE BAVENT: 1633-1647. + + +Had Richelieu allowed the inquiry demanded by Father Joseph into the +doings of the Illuminate Confessors, some strange light would have +been thrown into the depth of the cloisters, on the daily life of the +nuns. Failing that, we may still learn from the Louviers story, which +is far more instructive than those of Aix and Loudun, that, +notwithstanding the new means of corruption furnished by Illuminism, +the director still resorted to the old trickeries of witchcraft, of +apparitions, heavenly or infernal, and so forth.[103] + + [103] It was very easy to cheat those who wished to be + cheated. By this time celibacy was harder to practise than in + the Middle Ages, the number of fasts and bloodlettings being + greatly reduced. Many died from the nervous plethora of a + life so cruelly sluggish. They made no secret of their + torments, owning them to their sisters, to their confessor, + to the Virgin herself. A pitiful thing, a thing to sorrow + for, not to ridicule. In Italy, a nun besought the Virgin for + pity’s sake to grant her a lover. + +Of the three directors successively appointed to the Convent of +Louviers in the space of thirty years, David, the first, was an +Illuminate, who forestalled Molinos; the second, Picart, was a wizard +dealing with the Devil; and Boullé, the third, was a wizard working +in the guise of an angel. + +There is an excellent book about this business; it is called _The +History of Magdalen Bavent_, a nun of Louviers; with her Examination, +&c., 1652: Rouen.[104] The date of this book accounts for the thorough +freedom with which it was written. During the wars of the Fronde, a +bold Oratorian priest, who discovered the nun in one of the Rouen +prisons, took courage from her dictation to write down the story of +her life. + + [104] I know of no book more important, more dreadful, or + worthier of being reprinted. It is the most powerful + narrative of its class. _Piety Afflicted_, by the Capuchin + Esprit de Bosroger, is a work immortal in the annals of + tomfoolery. The two excellent pamphlets by the doughty + surgeon, Yvelin, the _Inquiry_ and the _Apology_, are in the + Library of Ste. Genevieve. + +Born at Rouen in 1607, Madeline was left an orphan at nine years old. +At twelve she was apprenticed to a milliner. The confessor, a +Franciscan, held absolute sway in the house of this milliner, who as +maker of clothes for the nuns, was dependent on the Church. The monk +caused the apprentices, whom he doubtless made drunk with belladonna +and other magical drinks, to believe that they had been taken to the +Sabbath and there married to the devil Dagon. Three were already +possessed by him, and Madeline at fourteen became the fourth. + +She was a devout worshipper, especially of St. Francis. A Franciscan +monastery had just been founded at Louviers, by a lady of Rouen, widow +of lawyer Hennequin, who was hanged for cheating. She hoped by this +good deed of hers to help in saving her husband’s soul. To that end +she sought counsel of a holy man, the old priest David, who became +director to the new foundation. Standing at the entrance of the town, +with a wood surrounding it, this convent, born of so tragical a +source, seemed quite gloomy and poor enough for a place of stern +devotion. David was known as author of a _Scourge for Rakes_, an odd +and violent book against the abuses that defiled the Cloister.[105] +All of a sudden this austere person took up some very strange ideas +concerning purity. He became an Adamite, preached up the nakedness of +Adam in his days of innocence. The docile nuns of Louviers sought to +subdue and abase the novices, to break them into obedience, by +insisting--of course in summer-time--that these young Eves should +return to the plight of their common mother. In this state they were +sent out for exercise in some secluded gardens, and were taken into +the chapel itself. Madeline, who at sixteen had come to be received as +a novice, was too proud, perhaps in those days too pure also, to +submit to so strange a way of life. She got an angry scolding for +having tried at communion to hide her bosom with the altar-cloth. + + [105] See Floquet; _Parliament of Normandy_, vol. v. p. 636. + +Not less unwilling was she to uncover her soul, to confess to the Lady +Superior, after the usual monastic custom of which the abbesses were +particularly fond. She would rather trust herself with old David, who +kept her apart from the rest. He himself confided his own ailments +into her ear. Nor did he hide from her his inner teaching, the +Illuminism, which governed the convent: “You must kill sin by being +made humble and lost to all sense of pride through sin.” Madeline was +frightened at the depths of depravity reached by the nuns, who quietly +carried out the teaching with which they had been imbued. She avoided +their company, kept to herself, and succeeded in getting made one of +the doorkeepers. + + * * * * * + +David died when she was eighteen. Old age prevented his going far with +the girl. But the vicar Picart, who succeeded him, was furious in his +pursuit of her; at the confessional spoke to her only of his love. He +made her his sextoness, that he might meet her alone in chapel. She +liked him not; but the nuns forbade her to have another confessor, +lest she might divulge their little secrets. And thus she was given +over to Picart. He beset her when she was sick almost to death; +seeking to frighten her by insisting that from David he had received +some infernal prescriptions. He sought to win her compassion by +feigning illness and begging her to come and see him. Thenceforth he +became her master, upset her mind with magic potions, and worked her +into believing that she had gone with him to the Sabbath, there to +officiate as altar and victim. At length, exceeding even the Sabbath +usages and daring the scandal that would follow, he made her to be +with child. + +The nuns were afraid of one who knew the state of their morals; and +their interest also bound them to him. The convent was enriched by his +energy, his good repute, the alms and gifts he attracted towards it +from every quarter. He was building them a large church. We saw in the +Loudun business by what rivalries and ambitions these houses were led +away, how jealously they strove each to outdo the others. Through the +trust reposed in him by the wealthy, Picart saw himself raised into +the lofty part of benefactor and second founder of the convent. +“Sweetheart,” he said to Madeline, “that noble church is all my +building! After my death you will see wonders wrought there. Do you +not agree to that?” + +This fine gentleman did not put himself out at all regarding Madeline. +He paid a dowry for her, and made a nun of her who was already a +lay-sister. Thus, being no longer a doorkeeper, she could live in one +of the inner rooms, and there be brought to bed at her convenience. By +means of certain drugs, and practices of their own, the convents could +do without the help of doctors. Madeline said that she was delivered +several times. She never said what became of the newly-born. + +Picart being now an old man, feared lest Madeline might in her +fickleness fly off some day, and utter words of remorse to another +confessor. So he took a detestable way of binding her to himself +beyond recall, by forcing her to make a will in which she promised “to +die when he died, and to be wherever he was.” This was a dreadful +thought for the poor soul. Must she be drawn along with him into the +bottomless pit? Must she go down with him, even into hell? She deemed +herself for ever lost. Become his property, his mere tool, she was +used and misused by him for all kinds of purposes. He made her do the +most shameful things. He employed her as a magical charm to gain over +the rest of the nuns. A holy wafer steeped in Madeline’s blood, and +buried in the garden, would be sure to disturb their senses and their +minds. + +This was the very year in which Urban Grandier was burnt. Throughout +France, men spoke of nothing but the devils of Loudun. The +Penitentiary of Evreux, who had been one of the actors on that stage, +carried the dreadful tale back with him to Normandy. Madeline fancied +herself bewitched and knocked about by devils; followed about by a +lewd cat with eyes of fire. By degrees, other nuns caught the +disorder, which showed itself in odd supernatural jerks and writhings. +Madeline had besought aid of a Capuchin, afterwards of the Bishop of +Evreux. The prioress was not sorry for a step of which she must have +been aware, for she saw what wealth and fame a like business had +brought to the Convent of Loudun. But for six years the bishop turned +a deaf ear to the prayer, doubtless through fear of Richelieu, who was +then at work on a reform of the cloisters. + +Richelieu wanted to bring these scandals to an end. It was not till +his own death, and that of Louis XIII., during the break-up which +followed on the rule of the Queen and Mazarin, that the priests again +betook themselves to working wonders, and waging war with the Devil. +Picart being dead, they were less shy of a matter in which so +dangerous a man might have accused others in his turn. They met the +visions of Madeline, by looking out a visionary for themselves. They +got admission into the convent for a certain Sister Anne of the +Nativity, a girl of sanguine, hysteric temperament, frantic at need +and half-mad, so far at least as to believe in her own lies. A kind of +dogfight was got up between the two. They besmeared each other with +false charges. Anne saw the Devil quite naked, by Madeline’s side. +Madeline swore to seeing Anne at the Sabbath, along with the Lady +Superior, the Mother-Assistant, and the Mother of the Novices. Besides +this, there was nothing new; merely a hashing up of the two great +trials at Aix and Loudun. They read and followed the printed +narratives only. No wit, no invention, was shown by either. + +Anne, the accuser, and her devil Leviathan, were backed by the +Penitentiary of Evreux, one of the chief actors in the Loudun affair. +By his advice, the Bishop of Evreux gave orders to disinter the body +of Picart, so that the devils might leave the convent when Picart +himself was taken away from the neighbourhood. Madeline was condemned, +without a hearing, to be disgraced, to have her body examined for the +marks of the Devil. They tore off her veil and gown, and made her the +wretched sport of a vile curiosity, that would have pierced her till +she bled again, in order to win the right of sending her to the stake. +Leaving to no one else the care of a scrutiny which was in itself a +torture, these virgins acting as matrons, ascertained if she was with +child or no, shaved all her body, and dug their needles into her +quivering flesh, to find out the insensible spots that betrayed the +mark of the Devil. At every dig they discovered signs of pain: if they +had not the luck to prove her a Witch, at any rate, they could revel +in her tears and cries. + + * * * * * + +But Sister Anne was not satisfied, until, on the mere word of her own +devil, Madeline, though acquitted by the results of this examination, +was condemned for the rest of her life to an _In pace_. It was said +that the convent would be quieted by her departure; but such was not +the case. The Devil was more violent than ever; some twenty nuns began +to cry out, to prophesy, to beat themselves. + +Such a sight drew thither a curious crowd from Rouen, and even from +Paris. Yvelin, a young Parisian surgeon, who had already seen the +farce at Loudun, came to see that of Louviers. He brought with him a +very clear-headed magistrate, the Commissioner of Taxes at Rouen. They +devoted unwearying attention to the matter, settled themselves at +Louviers, and carried on their researches for seventeen days. + +From the first day they saw into the plot. A conversation they had had +with the Penitentiary of Evreux on their entrance into the town, was +repeated back to them by Sister Anne’s demon, as if it had been a +revelation. The scenic arrangements were very bewitching. The shades +of night, the torches, the flickering and smoking lights, produced +effects which had not been seen at Loudun. The rest of the process was +simple enough. One of the bewitched said that in a certain part of the +garden they would find a charm. They dug for it, and it was found. +Unluckily, Yvelin’s friend, the sceptical magistrate, never budged +from the side of the leading actress, Sister Anne. At the very edge of +a hole they had just opened he grasped her hand, and on opening it, +found the charm, a bit of black thread, which she was about to throw +into the ground. + +The exorcisers, the penitentiary, priests, and Capuchins, about the +spot, were overwhelmed with confusion. The dauntless Yvelin, on his +own authority, began a scrutiny, and saw to the uttermost depth of the +affair. + +Among the fifty-two nuns, said he, there were six _possessed_, but +deserving of chastisement. Seventeen more were victims under a spell, +a pack of girls upset by the disease of the cloisters. He describes +it with great precision: the girls are regular but hysterical, blown +out with certain inward storms, lunatics mainly, and disordered in +mind. A nervous contagion has ruined them; and the first thing to do +is to keep them apart. + +He then, with the liveliness of Voltaire, examines the tokens by which +the priests were wont to recognize the supernatural character of the +bewitched. They foretel, he allows, but only what never happens. They +translate, indeed, but without understanding; as when, for instance, +they render “_ex parte virginis_,” by “the departure of the Virgin.” +They know Greek before the people of Louviers, but cannot speak it +before the doctors of Paris. They cut capers, take leaps of the +easiest kind, climb up the trunk of a tree which a child three years +old might climb. In short, the only thing they do that is really +dreadful and unnatural, is to use dirtier language than men would ever +do. + + * * * * * + +In tearing off the mask from these people, the surgeon rendered a +great service to humanity. For the matter was being pushed further; +other victims were about to be made. Besides the charms were found +some papers, ascribed to David or Picart, in which this and that +person were called witches, and marked out for death. Each one +shuddered lest his name should be found there. Little by little the +fear of the priesthood made its way among the people. + +The rotten age of Mazarin, the first days of the weak Anne of Austria, +were already come. Order and government were no more. “But one phrase +was left in the language: _The Queen is so good._” Her goodness gave +the clergy a chance of getting the upper hand. The power of the laity +entombed with Richelieu, bishops, priests, and monks, were about to +reign. The bold impiety of the magistrate and his friend Yvelin +imperilled so sweet a hope. Groans and wailings went forth to the Good +Queen, not from the victims, but from the knaves thus caught in the +midst of their offences. Up to the Court they went, weeping for the +outrage to their religion. + +Yvelin was not prepared for this stroke: he deemed himself firm at +Court, having for ten years borne the title of Surgeon to the Queen. +Before he returned from Louviers to Paris, the weakness of Anne of +Austria had been tempted into granting another commission named by his +opponents, consisting of an old fool in his dotage, one Diafoirus of +Rouen, and his nephew, both attached to the priesthood. These did not +fail to discover that the Louviers affair was supernatural, +transcending all art of man. + +Any other than Yvelin would have been discouraged. The Rouen +physicians treated with utter scorn this surgeon, this barber fellow, +this mere sawbones. The Court gave him no encouragement. Still, he +held on his way in a treatise which will live yet. He accepts this +battle of science against priestcraft, declaring, as Wyer did in the +sixteenth century, that “in all such matters the right judge is not +the priest but the man of science.” With great difficulty he found +some one bold enough to print, but no one willing to sell his little +work. So in broad daylight the heroic young man set about distributing +it with his own hands. Placing himself on the Pont Neuf, the most +frequented spot in Paris, at the foot of Henry the Fourth’s statue, he +gave out copies of his memoir to the passers by. At the end of it they +found a formal statement of the shameful fraud, how in the hand of the +female demons the magistrate had caught the unanswerable evidence of +their dishonour. + + * * * * * + +Return we to the wretched Madeline. Her enemy, the Penitentiary of +Evreux, by whose influence she had been searched with needles, carried +her off as his prey to the heart of the episcopal dungeons in that +town. Below an underground passage dipped a cave, below the cave a +cell, where the poor human creature lay buried in damps and darkness. +Reckoning upon her speedy death, her dread companions had not even the +kindness to give her a piece of linen for the dressing of her ulcer. +There, as she lay in her own filth, she suffered alike from pain and +want of cleanliness. The whole night long she was disturbed by the +running to and fro of ravenous rats, those terrors of every prison, +who were wont to nibble men’s ears and noses. + +But all these horrors fell short of those which her tyrant, the +Penitentiary, dealt out to her himself. Day after day he would come +into the upper vault and speak to her through the mouth of her pit, +threatening her, commanding her, and making her, whether she would or +no, confess to this or that crime as having been wrought by others. At +length she ceased to eat. Fearing that she might die at once, he drew +her for a while out of her _In Pace_, and laid her in the upper vault. +Then, in his rage against Yvelin’s memoir, he cast her back into her +sewer below. + +That glimpse of light, that short renewal and sudden death of hope, +gave the crowning impulse to her despair. Her wound was closing, so +that her strength was greater. She was seized with a deep and violent +thirst for death. She swallowed spiders, but instead of dying, only +brought them up again. Pounded glass she swallowed, but in vain. +Finding an old bit of sharp iron, she tried to cut her throat, but +could not. Then, as an easier way, she dug the iron into her belly. +For four hours she worked and bled, but without success. Even this +wound shortly began to close. To crown all, the life she hated so +returned to her stronger than before. Her heart’s death was of no +avail. + +She became once more a woman; still, alas! an object of desire, of +temptation for her jailers, those brutish varlets of the bishopric, +who, notwithstanding the horror of the place, and the unhappy +creature’s own sad and filthy plight, would come to make sport of +her, believing that they might do all their pleasure against a Witch. +But an angel succoured her, so she said. From men and rats alike she +defended herself. But against herself, herself she could not protect. +Her prison corrupted her mind. She dreamed of the Devil, besought him +to come and see her, to restore to her the shameful pleasures in which +she had wallowed at Louviers. He never deigned to come back. Once more +amidst this corruption of her senses, she fell back on her old desire +for death. One of the jailers had given her a drug to kill the rats. +She was just going to swallow it herself, when an angel--an angel, was +it, or a devil?--stayed her hand, reserving her for other crimes. + +Thenceforward--sunk into the lowest depths of vileness, become an +unspeakable cipher of cowardice and servility--she signed endless +lists of crimes which she had never committed. Was she worth the +trouble of burning? Many had given up that idea, but the ruthless +Penitentiary clung to it still. He offered money to a Wizard of +Evreux, then in prison, if he would bear such witness as might bring +about the death of Madeline. + +For the future, however, they could use her for other purposes--to +bear false witness, to become a tool for any slander. Whenever they +sought the ruin of any man, they had only to drag down to Louviers or +to Evreux this accursed ghost of a dead woman, living only to make +others die. In this way she was brought out to kill with her words a +poor man named Duval. What the Penitentiary dictated to her, she +repeated readily: when he told her by what marks she should know +Duval, whom she had never seen, she pointed him out and said she had +seen him at the Sabbath. Through her it fell out that he was burnt! + +She owned her dreadful crime, and shuddered to think what answer she +could make before God. She was fallen into such contempt that no one +now deigned to look after her. The doors stood wide open: sometimes +she had the keys herself. But where now should she go, object as she +was of so much dread? Thenceforth the world repelled her--cast her +out: the only world she had left was her dungeon. + +During the anarchy of Mazarin and his Good Lady the chief authority +remained with the Parliaments. That of Rouen, hitherto the friendliest +to the clergy, grew wroth at last at their arrogant way of examining, +ordering, and burning people. A mere decree of the Bishop had caused +Picart’s body to be disinterred and thrown into the common sewer. And +now they were passing on to the trial of Boullé, the curate, and +supposed abettor of Picart. Listening to the plaint of Picart’s +family, the Parliament sentenced the Bishop of Evreux to replace him +at his own expense in his tomb at Louviers. They called up Boullé, +undertook his trial themselves, and at the same time sent for the +wretched Madeline from Evreux to Rouen. + +People were afraid that Yvelin and the magistrate who had caught the +nuns in the very act of cheating, would be made to appear. Hieing away +to Paris, they found the knave Mazarin ready to protect their knavish +selves. The whole matter was appealed to the King’s Council--an +indulgent court, without eyes or ears--whose care it was to bury, hush +up, bedarken everything connected with justice. + +Meanwhile, some honey-tongued priests had comforted Madeline in her +Rouen dungeon; they heard her confessions, and enjoined her, by way of +penance, to ask forgiveness of her persecutors, the nuns of Louviers. +Thenceforth, happen what might, Madeline could never more be brought +in evidence against those who had thus bound her fast. It was a +triumph indeed for the clergy, and the victory was sung by a knave of +an exorciser, the Capuchin Esprit de Bosroger, in his _Piety +Afflicted_, a farcical monument of stupidity, in which he accuses, +unawares, the very people he fancies himself defending. + +The Fronde, as I said before, was a revolution for honest ends. Fools +saw only its outer form--its laughable aspects; but at bottom it was a +serious business, a moral reaction. In August, 1647, with the first +breath of freedom, Parliament stepped forward and cut the knot. It +ordered, in the first place, the destruction of the Louviers Sodom; +the girls were to be dispersed and sent back to their kinsfolk. In the +next, it decreed that thenceforth the bishops of the province should, +four times a-year, send special confessors to the nunneries, to +ascertain that such foul abuses were not renewed. + +One comfort, however, the clergy were to receive. They were allowed to +burn the bones of Picart and the living body of Boullé, who, after +making public confession in the cathedral, was drawn on a hurdle to +the Fish Market, and there, on the 21st August, 1647, devoured by the +flames. Madeline, or rather her corpse, remained in the prisons of +Rouen. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE DEVIL TRIUMPHS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. + + +The Fronde was a kind of Voltaire. The spirit of Voltaire, old as +France herself, but long restrained, burst forth in the political, and +anon in the religious, world. In vain did the Great King seek to +establish a solemn gravity. Beneath it laughter went on. + +Was there nought else, then, but laughter and jesting? Nay, it was the +Advent of Reason. By means of Kepler, of Galileo, Descartes, Newton, +there was now triumphantly enthroned the reasonable dogma of faith in +the unchangeable laws of nature. Miracle dared no longer show itself, +or, when it did dare, was hissed down. In other and better words, the +fantastic miracles of mere whim had vanished, and in their stead was +seen the mighty miracle of the universe--more regular, and therefore +more divine. + +The great rebellion decidedly won the day. You may see it working in +the bold forms of those earlier outbursts; in the irony of Galileo; in +the absolute doubt wherewith Descartes leads off his system. The +Middle Ages would have said, “’Tis the spirit of the Evil One.” + +The victory, however, is not a negative one, but very affirmative and +surely based. The spirit of nature and the natural sciences, those +outlaws of an elder day, return in might irresistible. All idle +shadows are hunted out by the real, the substantial. + +They had said in their folly, “Great Pan is dead.” Anon, observing +that he was yet alive, they had made him a god of evil: amid such a +chaos they might well be deceived. But, lo! he lives, and lives +harmonious, in the grand stability of laws that govern alike the star +and the deep-hidden mystery of life. + + * * * * * + +Of this period two things, by no means contradictory, may be averred: +the spirit of Satan conquers, while the reign of witchcraft is at an +end. + +All marvel-mongering, hellish or holy, is fallen very sick at last. +Wizards and theologians are powerless alike. They are become, as it +were, empirics, who pray in vain for some supernatural change, some +whim of Providence, to work the wonders which science asks of nature +and reason only. + +For all their zeal, the Jansenists of this century succeed only in +bringing forth a miracle very small and very ridiculous. Still less +lucky are the rich and powerful Jesuits, who cannot get a miracle done +at any price; who have to be satisfied with the visions of a hysteric +girl, Sister Mary Alacoque, of an exceedingly sanguine habit, with +eyes for nothing but blood. In view of so much impotence, magic and +witchcraft may find some solace for themselves. + +While the old faith in the supernatural was thus declining, priests +and witches shared a common fate. In the fears, the fancies of the +Middle Ages, these two were bound up together. Together they were +still to face the general laughter and disdain. When Molière made fun +of the Devil and his “seething cauldrons,” the clergy were deeply +stirred, deeming that the belief in Paradise had fallen equally low. + +A government of laymen only, that of the great Colbert, who was long +the virtual King of France, could not conceal its scorn for such old +questions. It emptied the prisons of the wizards whom the Rouen +Parliament still crowded into them, and, in 1672, forbade the law +courts from entertaining any prosecutions for witchcraft. The +Parliament protested, and gave people to understand that by this +denial of sorcery many other things were put in peril. Any doubting of +these lower mysteries would cause many minds to waver from their +belief in mysteries of a higher sort. + + * * * * * + +The Sabbath disappears, but why? Because it exists everywhere. It +enters into the people’s habits, becomes the practice of their daily +life. The Devil, the Witches, had long been reproached with loving +death more than life, with hating and hindering the generative powers +of nature. And now in the pious seventeenth century, when the Witch is +fast dying out, a love of barrenness, and a fear of being fruitful, +are found to be, in very truth, the one prevalent disease. + +If Satan ever read, he would have good cause for laughter as he read +the casuists who took him up where he left off. For there was one +difference at least between them. In times of terror Satan made +provision for the famished, took pity on the poor. But these fellows +have compassion only for the rich. With his vices, his luxury, his +court life, the rich man is still a needy miserable beggar. He comes +to confession with a humbly threatening air, in order to wrest from +his doctor permission to sin with a good conscience. Some day will be +told, by him who may have the courage to tell it, an astounding tale +of the cowardly things done, and the shameful tricks so basely +ventured by the casuist who wished to keep his penitent. From Navarro +to Escobar the strangest bargains were continually made at the wife’s +expense, and some little wrangling went on after that. But all this +would not do. The casuist was conquered, was altogether a coward. From +Zoccoli to Liguori--1670 to 1770--he gave up banning Nature. + +The Devil, so it was said, showed two countenances at the Sabbath: the +one in front seemed threatening, the other behind was farcical. Now +that he has nothing to do with it, he has generously given the latter +to the casuist. + +It must have amused him to see his trusty friends settled among honest +folk, in the serious households swayed by the Church. The worldling +who bettered himself by that great resource of the day, lucrative +adultery, laughed at prudence, and boldly followed his natural bent. +Pious families, on the other hand, followed nothing but their Jesuits. +In order to preserve, to concentrate their property, to leave each one +wealthy heir, they entered on the crooked ways of the new +spiritualism. Buried in a mysterious gloom, losing at the faldstool +all heed and knowledge of themselves, the proudest of them followed +the lesson taught by Molinos: “In this world we live to suffer. But in +time that suffering is soothed and lulled to sleep by a habit of pious +indifference. We thus attain to a negation. Death do you say? Not +altogether. Without mingling in the world, or heeding its voices, we +get thereof an echo dim and soft. It is like a windfall of Divine +Grace, so mild and searching; never more so than in moments of +self-abasement, when the will is wholly obscured.” + +Exquisite depths of feeling! Alas, poor Satan! how art thou left +behind! Bend low, acknowledge, and admire thy children! + + * * * * * + +The physicians who, having sprung from the popular empiricism which +men called witchcraft, were far more truly his lawful children, were +too forgetful of him who had left them his highest patrimony, as being +his favoured heirs. They were ungrateful to the Witch, who laid the +way for themselves. Nay, they went further than that. On this fallen +king, their father and creator, they dealt some hard strokes with the +whip. “_Thou, too, my son?_” They gave the jesters cruel weapons +against him. + +Even in the sixteenth century there were some to scoff at the spirit +who through all time, from the days of the Sibyl to those of the +Witch, had filled and troubled the woman. They maintained that he was +neither God nor Devil, but only “the Prince of the Air,” as the Middle +Ages called him. Satan was nothing but a disease! + +_Possession_ to them was only a result of the prison-like, sedentary, +dry, unyielding life of the cloister. As for the 6500 devils in +Gauffridi’s little Madeline, and the hosts that fought in the bodies +of maddened nuns at Loudun and Louviers, these doctors called them +physical storms. “If Æolus can shake the earth,” said Yvelin, “why not +also the body of a girl?” La Cadière’s surgeon, of whom more anon, had +the coolness to say, “it was nothing more than a choking of the womb.” + +Wonderful descent! Routed by the simplest remedies, by exorcisms after +Molière, the terror of the Middle Ages would flee away and vanish +utterly! + +This is too sweeping a reduction of the question. Satan was more than +that. The doctors saw neither the height nor the depth of him; neither +his grand revolt in the form of science, nor that strange mixture of +impurity and pious intrigue, that union of Tartuffe and Priapus, which +he brought to pass about the year 1700. + +People fancy they know something about the eighteenth century, and +yet have never seen one of its most essential features. The greater +its outward civilization, the clearer and fuller the light that bathed +its uppermost layers, so much the more hermetically sealed lay all +those widespread lower realms, of priests and monks, and women +credulous, sickly, prone to believe whatever they heard or saw. In the +years before Cagliostro, Mesmer, and the magnetisers, who appeared +towards the close of the century, a good many priests still worked +away at the old dead witchcraft. They talked of nothing but +enchantments, spread the fear of them abroad, and undertook to hunt +out the devils with their shameful exorcisms. Many set up for wizards, +well knowing how little risk they ran, now that people were no longer +burnt. They knew they were sheltered by the milder spirit of their +age, by the tolerant teachings of their foes the philosophers, by the +levity of the great jesters, who thought that anything could be +extinguished with a laugh. Now it was just because people laughed, +that these gloomy plot-spinners went their way without much fear. The +new spirit, that of the Regent namely, was sceptical and easy-natured. +It shone forth in the _Persian Letters_, it shone forth everywhere in +the all-powerful journalist who filled that century, Voltaire. At any +shedding of human blood his whole heart rises indignant. All other +matters only make him laugh. Little by little, the maxim of the +worldly public seems to be, “Punish nothing, and laugh at all.” + +This tolerant spirit suffered Cardinal Tencin to appear in public as +his sister’s husband. This, too, it was that ensured to the masters of +convents the peaceful possession of their nuns, who were even allowed +to make declarations of pregnancy, to register the births of their +children.[106] This tolerant temper made excuses for Father +Apollinaire, when he was caught in a shameful piece of exorcism. That +worthy Jesuit, Cauvrigny, idol of the provincial convents, paid for +his adventures only by a recall to Paris, in other words--by fresh +preferment. + + [106] The noble Chapter of Canons of Pignan were sixteen in + number. In one year the provost received from the nuns + sixteen declarations of pregnancy. (See MS. History of Besse, + by M. Renoux.) One good fruit of this publicity was the + decrease of infanticide among the religious orders. At the + price of a little shame, the nuns let their children live, + and doubtless became good mothers. Those of Pignan put their + babes out to nurse with the neighbouring peasants, who + brought them up as their own. + +Such also was the punishment awarded the famous Jesuit, Girard, who +was loaded with honours when he should have got the rope. He died in +the sweetest savour of holiness. His was the most curious affair of +that century. It enables us to probe the peculiar methods of that day, +to realize the coarse jumble of jarring machinery which was then at +work. As a thing of course, it was preluded by the dangerous suavities +of the Song of Songs. It was carried on by Mary Alacoque, with a +marriage of Bleeding Hearts spiced with the morbid blandishments of +Molinos. To these Girard added the whisperings of Satan and the +terrors of enchantment. He was at once the Devil and the Devil’s +exorciser. At last, horrible to say, instead of getting justice done +to her, the unhappy girl whom he sacrificed with so much cruelty, was +persecuted to death. She disappeared, shut up perhaps by a _lettre de +cachet_, and buried alive in her tomb. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +FATHER GIRARD AND LA CADIERE: 1730. + + +The Jesuits were unlucky. Powerful at Versailles, where they ruled the +Court, they had not the slightest credit with Heaven. Not one tiny +miracle could they do. The Jansenists overflowed, at any rate, with +touching stories of miracles done. Untold numbers of sick, infirm, +halt, and paralytic obtained a momentary cure at the tomb of the +Deacon Pâris. Crushed by a terrible succession of plagues, from the +time of the Great King to the Regency, when so many were reduced to +beggary, these unfortunate people went to entreat a poor, good fellow, +a virtuous imbecile, a saint in spite of his absurdities, to make them +whole. And what need, after all, of laughter? His life is far more +touching than ridiculous. We are not to be surprised if these good +folk, in the emotion of seeing their benefactor’s tomb, suddenly +forgot their own sufferings. The cure did not last, but what matter? A +miracle indeed had taken place, a miracle of devotion, of +lovingkindness, of gratitude. Latterly, with all this some knavery +began to mingle, but at that time, in 1728, these wonderful popular +scenes were very pure. + +The Jesuits would have given anything for the least of the miracles +they denied. For well-nigh fifty years they worked away, embellishing +with fables and anecdotes their Legend of the Sacred Heart, the story +of Mary Alacoque. For twenty-five or thirty years they had been trying +to convince the world that their helpmate, James II. of England, not +content with healing the king’s evil (in his character of King of +France), amused himself after his death in making the dumb to speak, +the lame to walk straight, and the squint-eyed to see properly. They +who were cured squinted worse than ever. As for the dumb, it so +chanced that she who played this part was a manifest rogue, caught in +the very act of stealing. She roamed the provinces: at every chapel of +any renowned saint she was healed by a miracle and received alms, and +then began her work again elsewhere. + +For getting wonders wrought the South was a better country. There +might be found a plenty of nervous women, easy to excite, the very +ones to make into somnambulists, subjects of miracle, bearers of +mystic marks, and so forth. + +At Marseilles the Jesuits had on their side a bishop, Belzunce, a +bold, hearty sort of man, renowned in the memorable plague,[107] but +credulous and narrow-minded withal; under whose countenance many a +bold venture might be made. Beside him they had placed a Jesuit of +Franche-Comté, not wanting in mind, whose austere outside did not +prevent his preaching pleasantly, in an ornate and rather worldly +style, such as the ladies loved. A true Jesuit, he made his way by two +different methods, now by feminine intrigue, anon by his holy +utterances. Girard had on his side neither years nor figure; he was a +man of forty-seven, tall, withered, weak-looking, of dirty aspect, and +given to spitting without end.[108] He had long been a tutor, even +till he was thirty-seven; and he preserved some of his college tastes. +For the last ten years, namely, ever since the great plague, he had +been confessor to the nuns. With them he had fared well, winning over +them a high degree of power by enforcing a method seemingly quite at +variance with the Provencial temperament, by teaching the doctrine and +the discipline of a mystic death, of absolute passiveness, of entire +forgetfulness of self. The dreadful crisis through which they had just +passed had deadened their spirits, and weakened hearts already +unmanned by a kind of morbid languor. Under Girard’s leading, the +Carmelites of Marseilles carried their mysticism to great lengths; and +first among them was Sister Remusat, who passed for a saint. + + [107] The great plague of 1720, which carried off 60,000 + people about Marseilles. Belzunce is the “Marseilles’ good + bishop” of Pope’s line--TRANS. + + [108] See “The Proceedings in the Affair of Father Girard and + La Cadière,” Aix, 1733. + +In spite, or perhaps by reason, of this success, the Jesuits took +Girard away from Marseilles: they wanted to employ him in raising +anew their house at Toulon. Colbert’s splendid institution, the +Seminary for Naval Chaplains, had been entrusted to the Jesuits, with +the view of cleansing the young chaplains from the influence of the +Lazarists, who ruled them almost everywhere. But the two Jesuits +placed in charge were men of small capacity. One was a fool; the +other, Sabatier, remarkable, in spite of his age, for heat of temper. +With all the insolence of our old navy he never kept himself under the +least control. In Toulon he was reproached, not for having a mistress, +nor yet a married woman, but for intriguing in a way so insolent and +outrageous as to drive the husband wild. He sought to keep the husband +specially alive to his own shame, to make him wince with every kind of +pang. Matters were pushed so far that at last the husband died +outright. + +Still greater was the scandal caused by the Jesuits’ rivals, the +Observantines, who, having spiritual charge of a sisterhood at +Ollioules, made mistresses openly of the nuns, and, not content with +this, dared even to seduce the little boarders. One Aubany, the Father +Guardian, violated a girl of thirteen; when her parents pursued him, +he found shelter at Marseilles. + +As Director of the Seminary for Chaplains, Girard began, through his +seeming sternness and his real dexterity, to win for the Jesuits an +ascendant over monks thus compromised, and over parish-priests of very +vulgar manners and scanty learning. + +In those Southern regions, where the men are abrupt, not seldom +uncouth of speech and appearance, the women have a lively relish for +the gentle gravity of the men of the North: they feel thankful to them +for speaking a language at once aristocratic, official, and French. + +When Girard reached Toulon, he must already have gained full knowledge +of the ground before him. Already had he won over a certain Guiol, who +sometimes came to Marseilles, where she had a daughter, a Carmelite +nun. This Guiol, wife of a small carpenter, threw herself entirely +into his hands, even more so than he wanted. She was of ripe age, +extremely vehement for a woman of forty-seven, depraved and ready for +anything, ready to do him service of whatever kind, no matter what he +might do or be, whether he were a sinner or a saint. + +This Guiol, besides her Carmelite daughter at Marseilles, had another, +a lay-sister to the Ursulines of Toulon. The Ursulines, an order of +teaching nuns, formed everywhere a kind of centre; their parlour, the +resort of mothers, being a half-way stage between the cloister and the +world. At their house, and doubtless through their means, Girard saw +the ladies of the town, among them one of forty years, a spinster, +Mdlle. Gravier, daughter of an old contractor for the royal works at +the Arsenal. This lady had a shadow who never left her, her cousin La +Reboul, daughter of a skipper and sole heiress to herself; a woman, +too, who really meant to succeed her, though very nearly her own age, +being five-and-thirty. Around these gradually grew a small roomful of +Girard’s admirers, who became his regular penitents. Among them were +sometimes introduced a few young girls, such as La Cadière, a +tradesman’s daughter and herself a sempstress, La Laugier, and La +Batarelle, the daughter of a waterman. They had godly readings +together, and now and then small suppers. But they were specially +interested in certain letters which recounted the miracles and +ecstacies of Sister Remusat, who was still alive; her death occurring +in February, 1730. What a glorious thing for Father Girard, who had +led her to a pitch so lofty! They read, they wept, they shouted with +admiration. If they were not ecstatic yet, they were not far from +being so. Already, to please her kinswoman, would La Reboul throw +herself at times into a strange plight by holding her breath and +pinching her nose. + + * * * * * + +Among these girls and women the least frivolous certainly was +Catherine Cadière, a delicate, sickly girl of seventeen, taken up +wholly with devotion and charity, of a mournful countenance, which +seemed to say that, young as she was, she had felt more keenly than +anyone else the great misfortunes of the time, those, namely, of +Provence and Toulon. This is easily explained. She was born during the +frightful famine of 1709; and just as the child was growing into a +maiden, she witnessed the fearful scenes of the great plague. Those +two events seemed to have left their mark upon her, to have taken her +out of the present into a life beyond. + +This sad flower belonged wholly to Toulon, to the Toulon of that day. +To understand her better we must remember what that town is and what +it was. + +Toulon is a thoroughfare, a landing-place, the entrance of an immense +harbour and a huge arsenal. The sense of this carries the traveller +away, and prevents his seeing Toulon itself. There is a town however +there, indeed an ancient city. It contains two different sets of +people, the stranger functionaries, and the genuine Toulonnese, who +are far from friendly to the former, regarding them with envy, and +often roused to rebellion by the swaggering of the naval officers. All +these differences were concentred in the gloomy streets of a town in +those days choked up within its narrow girdle of fortifications. The +most peculiar feature about this small dark town is, that it lies +exactly between two broad seas of light, between the marvellous mirror +of its roadstead and its glorious amphitheatre of mountains, +baldheaded, of a dazzling grey, that blinds you in the noonday sun. +All the gloomier look the streets themselves. Such as do not lead +straight to the harbour and draw some light therefrom, are plunged at +all hours in deep gloom. Filthy byeways, and small tradesmen with +shops ill-furnished, invisible to anyone coming for the day, such is +the general aspect of the place. The interior forms a maze of passages +in which you may find plenty of churches, and old convents now turned +into barracks. Copious kennels, laden and foul with sewage water, run +down in torrents. The air is almost stagnant, and in so dry a climate +you are surprised at seeing so much moisture. + +In front of the new theatre a passage called La Rue de l’Hôpital leads +from the narrow Rue Royale into the narrow Rue des Cannoniers. It +might almost be called a blind alley. The sun, however, just looks +down upon it at noon, but, finding the place so dismal, passes on +forthwith, and leaves the passage to its wonted darkness. + +Among these gloomy dwellings the smallest was that of the Sister +Cadière, a retail dealer, or huckster. There was no entrance but by +the shop, and only one room on each floor. The Cadières were honest +pious folk, and Madame Cadière the mirror of excellence itself. These +good people were not altogether poor. Besides their small dwelling in +the town, they too, like most of their fellow-townsmen, had a +country-house of their own. This latter is, commonly, a mere hut, a +little stony plot of ground yielding a little wine. In the days of its +naval greatness, under Colbert and his son, the wondrous bustle in the +harbour brought some profit to the town. French money flowed in. The +many great lords who passed that way brought their households along +with them, an army of wasteful domestics, who left a good many things +behind them. All this came to a sudden end. The artificial movement +stopped short: even the workmen at the arsenal could no longer get +their wages; shattered vessels were left unrepaired; and at last the +timbers themselves were sold. + +Toulon was keenly sensible of the rebound. At the siege of 1707 it +seemed as if dead. What, then, was it in the dreadful year 1709, the +71st of Louis XIV., when every plague at once, a hard winter, a +famine, and an epidemic, seemed bent on utterly destroying France? The +very trees of Provence were not spared. All traffic came to an end. +The roads were covered with starving beggars. Begirt with bandits who +stopped up every outlet, Toulon quaked for fear. + +To crown all, Madame Cadière, in this year of sorrow, was with child. +Three boys she had borne already. The eldest stayed in the shop to +help his father. The second was with the Friar Preachers, and destined +to become a Dominican, or a Jacobin as they were then called. The +third was studying in the Jesuit seminary as a priest to be. The +wedded couple wanted a daughter; Madame prayed to Heaven for a saint. +She spent her nine months in prayer, fasting, or eating nought but rye +bread. She had a daughter, namely Catherine. The babe was very +delicate and, like her brothers, unhealthy. The dampness of an +ill-aired dwelling, and the poor nourishment gained from a mother so +thrifty and more than temperate, had something to do with this. The +brothers had scrofulous glands, and in her earlier years the little +thing suffered from the same cause. Without being altogether ill, she +had all the suffering sweetness of a sickly child. She grew up without +growing stronger. At an age when other children have all the strength +and gladness of upswelling life in them, she was already saying, “I +have not long to live.” + +She took the small-pox, which left her rather marked. I know not if +she was handsome, but it is clear that she was very winning, with all +the charming contrasts, the twofold nature of the maidens of Provence. +Lively and pensive, gay and sad, by turns, she was a good little +worshipper, but given to harmless pranks withal. Between the long +church services, if she went into the country with girls of her own +age, she made no fuss about doing as they did, but would sing and +dance away and flourish her tambourine. But such days were few. Most +times her chief delight was to climb up to the top of the house, to +bring herself nearer heaven, to obtain a glimpse of daylight, to look +out, perhaps, on some small strip of sea, or some pointed peak in the +vast wilderness of hills. Thenceforth to her eyes they were serious +still, but less unkindly than before, less bald and leafless, in a +garment thinly strewn with arbutus and larch. + +This dead town of Toulon numbered 26,000 inhabitants when the plague +began. It was a huge throng cooped up in one spot. But from this +centre let us take away a girdle of great convents with their backs +upon the ramparts, convents of Minorites, Ursulines, Visitandines, +Bernardines, Oratorians, Jesuits, Capuchins, Recollects; those of the +Refuge, the Good Shepherd, and, midmost of all, the enormous convent +of Dominicans. Add to these the parish churches, parsonages, bishop’s +palace, and it seems that the clergy filled up the place, while the +people had no room at all, to speak of.[109] + + [109] See the work by M. d’Antrechaus, and the excellent + treatise by M. Gustave Lambert. + +On a centre so closely thronged, we may guess how savagely the plague +would fasten. Toulon’s kind heart was also to prove her bane. She +received with generous warmth some fugitives from Marseilles. These +are just as likely to have brought the plague with them, as certain +bales of wool to which was traced the first appearance of that +scourge. The chief men of the place were about to fly, to scatter +themselves over the country. But the First Consul, M. d’Antrechaus, a +man of heroic soul, withheld them, saying, with a stern air, “And what +will the people do, sirs, in this impoverished town, if the rich folk +carry their purses away?” So he held them back, and compelled all +persons to stay where they were. Now the horrors of Marseilles had +been ascribed to the mutual intercourse of its inhabitants. +D’Antrechaus, however, tried a system entirely the reverse, tried to +isolate the people of Toulon, by shutting them up in their houses. +Two huge hospitals were established, in the roadstead and in the +hills. All who did not come to these, had to keep at home on pain of +death. For seven long months D’Antrechaus carried out a wager, which +would have been held impossible, the keeping, namely, and feeding in +their own houses, of a people numbering 26,000 souls. All that time +Toulon was one vast tomb. No one stirred save in the morning, to deal +out bread from door to door, and then to carry off the dead. Most of +the doctors perished, and the magistrates all but D’Antrechaus. The +gravediggers also perished, and their places were filled by condemned +deserters, who went to work with brutal and headlong violence. Bodies +were thrown into the tumbril, head downwards, from the fourth storey. +One mother, having just lost her little girl, shrunk from seeing her +poor wee body thus hurled below, and by dint of bribing, managed to +get it lowered the proper way. As they were bearing it off, the child +came to; it lived still. They took her up again, and she survived, to +become the grandmother of the learned M. Brun, who wrote an excellent +history of the port. + +Poor little Cadière was exactly the same age as this girl who died and +lived again, being twelve years old, an age for her sex so full of +danger. In the general closing of the churches, in the putting down of +all holidays, and chiefly of Christmas, wont to be so merry a season +at Toulon, the child’s fancy saw the end of all things. It seems as +though she never quite shook off that fancy. Toulon never raised her +head again. She retained her desert-like air. Everything was in ruins, +everyone in mourning; widowers, orphans, desperate beings were +everywhere seen. In the midst, a mighty shadow, moved D’Antrechaus +himself; he had seen all about him perish, his sons, his brothers, and +his colleagues; and was now so gloriously ruined, that he was fain to +look to his neighbours for his daily meals. The poor quarrelled among +themselves for the honour of feeding him. + +The young girl told her mother that she would never more wear any of +her smarter clothes, and she must, therefore, sell them. She would do +nothing but wait upon the sick, and she was always dragging her to the +hospital at the end of the street. A little neighbour-girl of +fourteen, Laugier by name, who had lost her father, was living with +her mother in great wretchedness. Catherine was continually going to +them with food and clothes, and anything she could get for them. She +begged her parents to defray the cost of apprenticing Laugier to a +dressmaker; and such was her sway over them that they could not refuse +to incur so heavy an outlay. Her piety, her many little charms of +soul, rendered her all-powerful. She was impassioned in her charity, +giving not alms only, but love as well. She longed to make Laugier +perfect, rejoiced to have her by her side, and often gave her half her +bed. The pair had been admitted among the _Daughters of Saint +Theresa_, the third order established by the Carmelites. Mdlle. +Cadière was their model nun, and seemed at thirteen a Carmelite +complete. Already she devoured some books of mysticism borrowed from a +Visitandine. In marked contrast with herself seemed Laugier, now a +girl of fifteen, who would do nothing but eat and look handsome. So +indeed she was, and on that account had been made sextoness to the +chapel of Saint Theresa. This led her into great familiarities with +the priests, and so, when her conduct called for her expulsion from +the congregation, another authority, the vicar-general, flew into such +a rage as to declare that, if she were expelled, the chapel itself +would be interdicted. + +Both these girls had the temperament of their country, suffering from +great excitement of the nerves, and from what was called flatulence of +the womb. But in each the result was entirely different; being very +carnal in the case of Laugier, who was gluttonous, lazy, passionate; +but wholly cerebral with regard to the pure and gentle Catherine, who +owing to her ailments or to a lively imagination that took everything +up into itself, had no ideas concerning sex. “At twenty she was like a +child of seven.” For nothing cared she but praying and giving of alms; +she had no wish at all to marry. At the very word “marriage,” she +would fall a-weeping, as if she had been asked to abandon God. + +They had lent her the life of her patroness, Catherine of Genoa, and +she had bought for herself _The Castle of the Soul_, by St. Theresa. +Few confessors could follow her in these mystic flights. They who +spoke clumsily of such things gave her pain. She could not keep either +her mother’s confessor, the cathedral-priest, or another, a Carmelite, +or even the old Jesuit Sabatier. At sixteen she found a priest of +Saint Louis, a highly spiritual person. She spent days in church, to +such a degree that her mother, by this time a widow and often in want +of her, had to punish her, for all her own piety, on her return home. +It was not the girl’s fault, however: during her ecstasies she quite +forgot herself. So great a saint was she accounted by the girls of her +own age, that sometimes at mass they seemed to see the Host drawn on +by the moving power of her love, until it flew up and placed itself of +its own accord in her mouth. + +Her two young brothers differed from each other in their feelings +towards Girard. The elder, who lived with the Friar Preachers, shared +the natural dislike of all Dominicans for the Jesuit. The other, who +was studying with the Jesuits in order to become a priest, regarded +Girard as a great man, a very saint, a man to honour as a hero. Of +this younger brother, sickly like herself, Catherine was very fond. +His ceaseless talking about Girard was sure to do its work upon her. +One day she met the father in the street. He looked so grave, but so +good and mild withal, that a voice within her said, “Behold the man to +whose guidance thou art given!” The next Saturday, when she came to +confess to him, he said that he had been expecting her. In her amazed +emotion she never dreamed that her brother might have given him +warning, but fancied that the mysterious voice had spoken to him also, +and that they two were sharing the heavenly communion of warnings from +the world above. + +Six months of summer passed away, and yet Girard, who confessed her +every Saturday, had taken no step towards her. The scandal about old +Sabatier had set him on his guard. His own prudence would have held +him to an attachment of a darker kind for such a one as the Guiol, who +was certainly very mature, but also ardent and a devil incarnate. + +It was Cadière who made the first advances towards him, innocent as +they were. Her brother, the giddy Jacobin, had taken it into his head +to lend a lady and circulate through the town a satire called _The +Morality of the Jesuits_. The latter were soon apprised of this. +Sabatier swore that he would write to the Court for a sealed order +(lettre-de-cachet) to shut up the Jacobin. In her trouble and alarm, +his sister, with tears in her eyes, went to beseech Father Girard for +pity’s sake to interfere. On her coming again to him a little later, +he said, “Make yourself easy; your brother has nothing to fear; I have +settled the matter for him.” She was quite overcome. Girard saw his +advantage. A man of his influence, a friend of the King, a friend of +Heaven as well, after such proof of goodness as he had just been +giving, would surely have the very strongest sway over so young a +heart! He made the venture, and in her own uncertain language said to +her, “Put yourself in my hands; yield yourself up to me altogether.” +Without a blush she answered, in the fulness of her angelic purity, +“Yes;” meaning nought else than to have him for her sole director. + +What were his plans concerning her? Would he make her a mistress or +the tool of his charlatanry? Girard doubtless swayed to and fro, but +he leant, I think, most towards the latter idea. He had to make his +choice, might manage to seek out pleasures free from risk. But Mdlle. +Cadière was under a pious mother. She lived with her family, a married +brother and the two churchmen, in a very confined house, whose only +entrance lay through the shop of the elder brother. She went no +whither except to church. With all her simplicity she knew +instinctively what things were impure, what houses dangerous. The +Jesuit penitents were fond of meeting together at the top of a house, +to eat, and play the fool, and cry out, in their Provencial tongue, +“Vivent les _Jesuitons_!” A neighbour, disturbed by their noise, went +and found them lying on their faces, singing and eating fritters, all +paid for, it was said, out of the alms-money. Cadière was also +invited, but taking a disgust to the thing she never went a second +time. + +She was assailable only through her soul. And it was only her soul +that Girard seemed to desire. That she should accept those lessons of +passive faith which he had taught at Marseilles, this apparently was +all his aim. Hoping that example would do more for him than precept, +he charged his tool Guiol to escort the young saint to Marseilles, +where lived the friend of Cadière’s childhood, a Carmelite nun, a +daughter of Guiol’s. The artful woman sought to win her trust by +pretending that she, too, was sometimes ecstatic. She crammed her with +absurd stories. She told her, for instance, that on finding a cask of +wine spoilt in her cellar, she began to pray, and immediately the wine +became good. Another time she felt herself pierced by a crown of +thorns, but the angels had comforted her by serving up a good dinner, +of which she partook with Father Girard. + +Cadière gained her mother’s leave to go with this worthy Guiol to +Marseilles, and Madame Cadière paid her expenses. It was now the most +scorching month--that of August, 1729--in a scorching climate, when +the country was all dried up, and the eye could see nothing but a +rugged mirror of rocks and flintstone. The weak, parched brain of a +sick girl suffering from the fatigues of travel, was all the more +easily impressed by the dismal air of a nunnery of the dead. The true +type of this class was the Sister Remusat, already a corpse to outward +seeming, and soon to be really dead. Cadière was moved to admire so +lofty a piece of perfection. Her treacherous companion allured her +with the proud conceit of being such another and filling her place +anon. + +During this short trip of hers, Girard, who remained amid the stifling +heats of Toulon, had met with a dismal fall. He would often go to the +girl Laugier, who believed herself to be ecstatic, and “comfort” her +to such good purpose that he got her presently with child. When Mdlle. +Cadière came back in the highest ecstasy, as if like to soar away, he +for his part was become so carnal, so given up to pleasure, that he +“let fall on her ears a whisper of love.” Thereat she took fire, but +all, as anyone may see, in her own pure, saintly, generous way; as +eager to keep him from falling, as devoting herself even to die for +his sake. + +One of her saintly gifts was her power of seeing into the depths of +men’s hearts. She had sometimes chanced to learn the secret life and +morals of her confessors, to tell them of their faults; and this, in +their fear and amazement, many of them had borne with great humility. +One day this summer, on seeing Guiol come into her room, she suddenly +said, “Wicked woman! what have you been doing?” + +“And she was right,” said Guiol herself, at a later period; “for I had +just been doing an evil deed.” Perhaps she had just been rendering +Laugier the same midwife’s service which next year she wished to +render Batarelle. + +Very likely, indeed, Laugier had entrusted to Catherine, at whose +house she often slept, the secret of her good fortune, the love, the +fatherly caresses of her saint. It was a hard and stormy trial for +Catherine’s spirits. On the one side, she had learnt by heart +Girard’s maxim, that whatever a saint may do is holy. But on the other +hand, her native honesty and the whole course of her education +compelled her to believe that over-fondness for the creature was ever +a mortal sin. This woeful tossing between two different doctrines +quite finished the poor girl, brought on within her dreadful storms, +until at last she fancied herself possessed with a devil. + +And here her goodness of heart was made manifest. Without humbling +Girard, she told him she had a vision of a soul tormented with impure +thoughts and deadly sin; that she felt the need of rescuing that soul, +by offering the Devil victim for victim, by agreeing to yield herself +into his keeping in Girard’s stead. He never forbade her, but gave her +leave to be possessed for one year only. + +Like the rest of the town, she had heard of the scandalous loves of +Father Sabatier--an insolent passionate man, with none of Girard’s +prudence. The scorn which the Jesuits--to her mind, such pillars of +the Church--were sure to incur, had not escaped her notice. She said +one day to Girard, “I had a vision of a gloomy sea, with a vessel full +of souls tossed by a storm of unclean thoughts. On this vessel were +two Jesuits. Said I to the Redeemer, whom I saw in heaven, ‘Lord, save +them, and let me drown! The whole of their shipwreck do I take upon +myself,’ And God, in His mercy, granted my prayer.” + +All through the trial, and when Girard, become her foe, was aiming at +her death, she never once recurred to this subject. These two +parables, so clear in meaning, she never explained. She was too +high-minded to say a word about them. She had doomed herself to very +damnation. Some will say that in her pride she deemed herself so +deadened and impassive as to defy the impurity with which the Demon +troubled a man of God. But it is quite clear that she had no accurate +knowledge of sensual things, foreseeing nought in such a mystery save +pains and torments of the Devil. Girard was very cold, and quite +unworthy of all this sacrifice. Instead of being moved to compassion, +he sported with her credulity through a vile deceit. Into her casket +he slipped a paper, in which God declared that, for her sake, He would +indeed save the vessel. But he took care not to leave so absurd a +document there: she would have read it again and again until she came +to perceive how spurious it was. The angel who brought the paper +carried it off the next day. + +With the same coarseness of feeling Girard lightly allowed her, all +unsettled and incapable of praying as she plainly was, to communicate +as much as she pleased in different churches every day. This only made +her worse. Filled already with the Demon, she harboured the two foes +in one place. With equal power they fought within her against each +other. She thought she would burst asunder. She would fall into a +dead faint, and so remain for several hours. By December she could +not move even from her bed. + +Girard had now but too good a plea for seeing her. He was prudent +enough to let himself be led by the younger brother at least as far as +her door. The sick girl’s room was at the top of the house. Her mother +stayed discreetly in the shop. He was left alone as long as he +pleased, and if he chose could turn the key. At this time she was very +ill. He handled her as a child, drawing her forward a little to the +front of the bed, holding her head, and kissing her in a fatherly way. + +She was very pure, but very sensitive. A slight touch, that no one +else would have remarked, deprived her of her senses: this Girard +found out for himself, and the knowledge of it possessed him with evil +thoughts. He threw her at will into this trance,[110] and she, in her +thorough trust in him, never thought of trying to prevent it, feeling +only somewhat troubled and ashamed at causing such a man to waste upon +her so much of his precious time. His visits were very long. It was +easy to foresee what would happen at last. Ill as she was, the poor +girl inspired Girard with a passion none the less wild and +uncontrollable. One freedom led to another, and her plaintive +remonstrances were met with scornful replies. “I am your master--your +god. You must bear all for obedience sake.” At length, about +Christmas-time, the last barrier of reserve was broken down; and the +poor girl awoke from her trance to utter a wail which moved even him +to pity. + + [110] A case of mesmerism applied to a very susceptible + patient.--TRANS. + +An issue which she but dimly realized, Girard, as better enlightened, +viewed with growing alarm. Signs of what was coming began to show +themselves in her bodily health. To crown the entanglement, Laugier +also found herself with child. Those religious meetings, those suppers +watered with the light wine of the country, led to a natural raising +of the spirits of a race so excitable, and the trance that followed +spread from one to another. With the more artful all this was mere +sham; but with the sanguine, vehement Laugier the trance was genuine +enough. In her own little room she had real fits of raving and +swooning, especially when Girard came in. A little later than Cadière +she, too became fruitful. + +The danger was great. The girls were neither in a desert nor in the +heart of a convent, but rather, as one might say, in the open street: +Laugier in the midst of prying neighbours, Cadière in her own family. +The latter’s brother, the Jacobin, began to take Girard’s long visits +amiss. One day when Girard came, he ventured to stay beside her as +though to watch over her safety. Girard boldly turned him out of the +room, and the mother angrily drove her son from the house. + +This was very like to bring on an explosion. Of course, the young +man, swelling with rage at this hard usage, at this expulsion from his +home, would cry aloud to the Preaching Friars, who in their turn would +seize so fair an opening, to go about repeating the story and stirring +up the whole town against the Jesuit. The latter, however, resolved to +meet them with a strangely daring move, to save himself by a crime. +The libertine became a scoundrel. + +He knew his victim, had seen the scrofulous traces of her childhood, +traces healed up but still looking different from common scars. Some +of these were on her feet, others a little below her bosom. He formed +a devilish plan of renewing the wounds and passing them off as +“_stigmata_,” like those procured from heaven by St. Francis and other +saints, who sought after the closest conformity with their pattern, +the crucified Redeemer, even to bearing on themselves the marks of the +nails and the spear-wound in the side. The Jesuits were distressed at +having nought to show against the miracles of the Jansenists. Girard +felt sure of pleasing them by an unlooked-for miracle. He could not +but receive the support of his own order, of their house at Toulon. +One of them, old Sabatier, was ready to believe anything: he had of +yore been Cadière’s confessor, and this affair would bring him into +credit. Another of these was Father Grignet, a pious old dotard, who +would see whatever they pleased. If the Carmelites or any others were +minded to have their doubts, they might be taught, by warnings from a +high quarter, to consult their safety by keeping silence. Even the +Jacobin Cadière, hitherto a stern and jealous foe, might find his +account in turning round and believing in a tale which made his family +illustrious and himself the brother of a saint. + +“But,” some will say, “did not the thing come naturally? We have +instances numberless, and well-attested, of persons really marked with +the sacred wounds.” + +The reverse is more likely. When she was aware of the new wounds, she +felt ashamed and distressed with the fear of displeasing Girard by +this return of her childish ailments; for such she deemed the sores +which he had opened afresh while she lay unconscious in the trance. So +she sped away to a neighbour, one Madame Truc, who dabbled in physic, +and of her she bought, as if for her youngest brother, an ointment to +burn away the sores. + +She would have thought herself guilty of a great sin, if she had not +told everything to Girard. So, however fearful she might be of +displeasing and disgusting him, she spoke of this matter also. Looking +at the wounds, he began playing his comedy, rebuked her attempt to +heal them, and thus set herself against God. They were the marks, he +said, of Heaven. Falling on his knees, he kissed the wounds on her +feet. She crossed herself in self-abasement, struggled long-time +against such a belief. Girard presses and scolds, makes her show him +her side, and looks admiringly at the wound. “I, too,” he said, “have +a wound; but mine is within.” + +And now she is fain to believe in herself as a living miracle. Her +acceptance of a thing so startling was greatly quickened by the fact, +that Sister Remusat was just then dead. She had seen her in glory, her +heart borne upward by the angels. Who was to take her place on earth? +Who should inherit her high gifts, the heavenly favours wherewith she +had been crowned? Girard offered her the succession, corrupting her +through her pride. + +From that time she was changed. In her vanity she set down every +natural movement within her as holy. The loathings, the sudden starts +of a woman great with child, of all which she knew nothing, were +accounted for as inward struggles of the Spirit. As she sat at table +with her family on the first day of Lent, she suddenly beheld the +Saviour, who said, “I will lead thee into the desert, where thou shalt +share with Me all the love and all the suffering of the holy Forty +Days.” She shuddered for dread of the suffering she must undergo. But +still she would offer up her single self for a whole world of sinners. +Her visions were all of blood; she had nothing but blood before her +eyes. She beheld Jesus like a sieve running blood. She herself began +to spit blood, and lose it in other ways. At the same time her nature +seemed quite changed. The more she suffered, the more amorous she +grew. On the twentieth day of Lent she saw her name coupled with that +of Girard. Her pride, raised and quickened by these new sensations, +enabled her to comprehend the _special sway_ enjoyed by Mary, the +Woman, with respect to God. She felt _how much lower angels are_ than +the least of saints, male or female. She saw the Palace of Glory, and +mistook herself for the Lamb. To crown these illusions she felt +herself lifted off the ground, several feet into the air. She could +hardly believe it, until Mdlle. Gravier, a respectable person, assured +her of the fact. Everyone came, admired, worshipped. Girard brought +his colleague Grignet, who knelt before her and wept with joy. + +Not daring to go to her every day, Girard often made her come to the +Jesuits’ Church. There, before the altar, before the cross, he +surrendered himself to a passion all the fiercer for such a sacrilege. +Had she no scruples? did she still deceive herself? It seems as if, in +the midst of an elation still unfeigned and earnest, her conscience +was already dazed and darkened. Under cover of her bleeding wounds, +those cruel favours of her heavenly Spouse, she began to feel some +curious compensations.... + +In her reveries there are two points especially touching. One is the +pure ideal she had formed of a faithful union, when she fancied that +she saw her name and that of Girard joined together for ever in the +Book of Life. The other is her kindliness of heart, the charmingly +childlike nature which shines out through all her extravagances. On +Palm Sunday, looking at the joyous party around their family table, +she wept three hours together, for thinking that “on that very day no +one had asked Jesus to dinner.” + +Through all that Lent, she could hardly eat anything: the little she +took was thrown up again. The last fifteen days she fasted altogether, +until she reached the last stage of weakness. Who would have believed +that against this dying girl, to whom nothing remained but the mere +breath, Girard could practise new barbarities? He had kept her sores +from closing. A new one was now formed on her right side. And at last, +on Good Friday, he gave the finishing touch to his cruel comedy, by +making her wear a crown of iron-wire, which pierced her forehead, +until drops of blood rolled down her face. All this was done without +much secresy. He began by cutting off her long hair and carrying it +away. He ordered the crown of one Bitard, a cagemaker in the town. She +did not show herself to her visitors with the crown on: they saw the +result only, the drops of blood and the bleeding visage. Impressions +of the latter, like so many _Veronicas_,[111] were taken off on +napkins, and doubtless given away by Girard to people of great piety. + + [111] After the saint of that name, whose handkerchief + received the impress of Christ’s countenance.--TRANS. + +The mother, in her own despite, became an abettor in all this +juggling. In truth, she was afraid of Girard; she began to find him +capable of anything, and somebody, perhaps the Guiol, had told her, in +the deepest confidence, that, if she said a word against him, her +daughter would not be alive twenty-four hours. + +Cadière, for her part, never lied about the matter. In the narrative +taken down from her own lips of what happened this Lent, she expressly +tells of a crown, with sharp points, which stuck in her head, and made +it bleed. Nor did she then make any secret of the source whence came +the little crosses she gave her visitors. From a model supplied by +Girard, they were made to her order by one of her kinsfolk, a +carpenter in the Arsenal. + +On Good Friday, she remained twenty-four hours in a swoon, which they +called a trance; remained in special charge of Girard, whose +attentions weakened her, and did her deadly harm. She was now three +months gone with child. The saintly martyr, the transfigured marvel, +was already beginning to fill out. Desiring, yet dreading the more +violent issues of a miscarriage, he plied her daily with reddish +powders and dangerous drinks. + +Much rather would he have had her die, and so have rid himself of the +whole business. At any rate, he would have liked to get her away from +her mother, to bury her safe in a convent. Well acquainted with houses +of that sort, he knew, as Picard had done in the Louviers affair, how +cleverly and discreetly such cases as Cadière’s could be hidden away. +He talked of it this very Good Friday. But she seemed too weak to be +taken safely from her bed. At last, however, four days after Easter, a +miscarriage took place. + +The girl Laugier had also been having strange convulsive fits, and +absurd beginnings of _stigmata_: one of them being an old wound, +caused by her scissors when she was working as a seamstress, the other +an eruptive sore in her side. Her transports suddenly turned to +impious despair. She spat upon the crucifix: she cried out against +Girard, “that devil of a priest, who had brought a poor girl of +two-and-twenty into such a plight, only to forsake her afterwards!” +Girard dared not go and face her passionate outbreaks. But the women +about her, being all in his interest, found some way of bringing this +matter to a quiet issue. + +Was Girard a wizard, as people afterwards maintained? They might well +think so, who saw how easily, being neither young nor handsome, he had +charmed so many women. Stranger still it was, that after getting thus +compromised, he swayed opinion to such a degree. For a while, he +seemed to have enchanted the whole town. + +The truth was, that everyone knew the strength of the Jesuits. Nobody +cared to quarrel with them. It was hardly reckoned safe to speak ill +of them, even in a whisper. The bulk of the priesthood consisted of +monklings of the Mendicant orders, who had no powerful friends or high +connections. The Carmelites themselves, jealous and hurt as they were +at losing Cadière, kept silence. Her brother, the young Jacobin, was +lectured by his trembling mother into resuming his old circumspect +ways. Becoming reconciled to Girard, he came at length to serve him as +devotedly as did his younger brother, even lending himself to a +curious trick by which people were led to believe that Girard had the +gift of prophecy. + + * * * * * + +Such weak opposition as he might have to fear, would come only from +the very person whom he seemed to have most thoroughly mastered. +Submissive hitherto, Cadière now gave some slight tokens of a coming +independence which could not help showing itself. On the 30th of +April, at a country party got up by the polite Girard, and to which he +sent his troop of young devotees in company with Guiol, Cadière fell +into deep thought. The fair spring-time, in that climate so very +charming, lifted her heart up to God. She exclaimed with a feeling of +true piety, “Thee, Thee only, do I seek, O Lord! Thine angels are not +enough for me.” Then one of the party, a blithesome girl, having, in +the Provencial fashion, hung a tambourine round her neck, Cadière +skipped and danced about like the rest; with a rug thrown across her +shoulders, she danced the Bohemian measure, and made herself giddy +with a hundred mad capers. + +She was very unsettled. In May she got leave from her mother to make a +trip to Sainte-Baume, to the Church of St. Mary Magdalen, the chief +saint of girls on penance. Girard would only let her go under charge +of two faithful overlookers, Guiol and Reboul. But though she had +still some trances on the way, she showed herself weary of being a +passive tool to the violent spirit, whether divine or devilish, that +annoyed her. The end of her year’s _possession_ was not far off. Had +she not won her freedom? Once issued forth from the gloom and +witcheries of Toulon, into the open air, in the midst of nature, +beneath the full sunshine, the prisoner regained her soul, withstood +the stranger spirit, dared to be herself, to use her own will. +Girard’s two spies were far from edified thereat. On their return from +this short journey, from the 17th to the 22nd May, they warned him of +the change. He was convinced of it from his own experience. She fought +against the trance, seeming no longer wishful to obey aught save +reason. + +He had thought to hold her both by his power of charming and through +the holiness of his high office, and, lastly, by right of possession +and carnal usage. But he had no hold upon her at all. The youthful +soul, which, after all, had not been so much conquered as +treacherously surprised, resumed its own nature. This hurt him. +Besides his business of pedant, his tyranny over the children he +chastised at will, over nuns not less at his disposal, there remained +within a hard bottom of domineering jealousy. He determined to snatch +Cadière back by punishing this first little revolt, if such a name +could be given to the timid fluttering of a soul rising again from its +long compression. On the 22nd May she confessed to him after her wont; +but he refused to absolve her, declaring her to be so guilty that on +the morrow he would have to lay upon her a very great penance indeed. + +What would that be? A fast? But she was weakened and wasted already. +Long prayers, again, were not in fashion with Quietist directors,--were +in fact forbidden. There remained the _discipline_, or bodily +chastisement. This punishment, then everywhere habitual, was enforced +as prodigally in convents as in colleges. It was a simple and summary +means of swift execution, sometimes, in a rude and simple age, carried +out in the churches themselves. The _Fabliaux_ show us an artless +picture of manners, where, after confessing husband and wife, the +priest gave them the discipline without any ceremony, just as they +were, behind the confessional. Scholars, monks, nuns, were all +punished in the same way.[112] + + [112] The Dauphin was cruelly flogged. A boy of fifteen, + according to St. Simon, died from the pain of a like + infliction. The prioress of the Abbey-in-the-Wood, pleaded + before the King against the “afflictive chastisement” + threatened by her superior. For the credit of the convent, + she was spared the public shame; but the superior, to whom + she was consigned, doubtless punished her in a quiet way. The + immoral tendency of such a practice became more and more + manifest. Fear and shame led to woeful entreaties and + unworthy bargains. + +Girard knew that a girl like Cadière, all unused to shame, and very +modest--for what she had hitherto suffered took place unknown to +herself in her sleep--would feel so cruelly tortured, so fatally +crushed by this unseemly chastisement, as utterly to lose what little +buoyancy she had. She was pretty sure too, if we must speak out, to be +yet more cruelly mortified than other women, in respect of the pang +endured by her woman’s vanity. With so much suffering, and so many +fasts, followed by her late miscarriage, her body, always delicate, +seemed worn away to a shadow. All the more surely would she shrink +from any exposure of a form so lean, so wasted, so full of aches. Her +swollen legs and such-like small infirmities would serve to enhance +her humiliation. + +We lack the courage to relate what followed. It may all be read in +those three depositions, so artless, so manifestly unfeigned, in +which, without being sworn, she made it her duty to avow what +self-interest bade her conceal, owning even to things which were +afterwards turned to the cruellest account against her. + +Her first deposition was made on the spur of the moment, before the +spiritual judge who was sent to take her by surprise. In this we seem +to be ever hearing the utterances of a young heart that speaks as +though in God’s own presence. The second was taken before the King--I +should rather say before the magistrate who represented him, the +Lieutenant Civil and Criminal of Toulon. The last was heard before +the great assembly of the Parliament of Aix. + +Observe that all three, agreeing as they do wonderfully together, were +printed at Aix under the eye of her enemies, in a volume where, as I +shall presently prove, an attempt was made to extenuate the guilt of +Girard, and fasten the reader’s gaze on every point likely to tell +against Cadière. And yet the editor could not help inserting +depositions like these, which bear with crushing weight on the man he +sought to uphold. + +It was a monstrous piece of inconsistency on Girard’s part. He first +frightened the poor girl, and then suddenly took a base, a cruel +advantage of her fears. + +In this case no plea of love can be offered in extenuation. The truth +is far otherwise: he loved her no more. And this forms the most +dreadful part of the story. We have seen how cruelly he drugged her; +we have now to see her utterly forsaken. He owed her a grudge for +being of greater worth than those other degraded women. He owed her a +grudge for having unwittingly tempted him and brought him into danger. +Above all, he could not forgive her for keeping her soul in safety. He +sought only to tame her down, but caught hopefully at her oft-renewed +assurance, “I feel that I shall not live.” Villanous profligate that +he was, bestowing his shameful kisses on that poor shattered body +whose death he longed to see! + +How did he account to her for this shocking antagonism of cruelty and +caresses? Was it meant to try her patience and obedience, or did he +boldly pass on to the true depths of Molinos’ teaching, that “only by +dint of sinning can sin be quelled”? Did she take it all in full +earnest, never perceiving that all this show of justice, penitence, +expiation, was downright profligacy and nothing else? + +She did not care to understand him in the strange moral crash that +befell her after that 23rd May, under the influence of a mild warm +June. She submitted to her master, of whom she was rather afraid, and +with a singularly servile passion carried on the farce of undergoing +small penances day by day. So little regard did Girard show for her +feelings that he never hid from her his relations with other women. +All he wanted was to get her into a convent. Meanwhile she was his +plaything: she saw him, let him have his way. Weak, and yet further +weakened by the shame that unnerved her, growing sadder and more sad +at heart, she had now but little hold on life, and would keep on +saying, in words that brought no sorrow to Girard’s soul, “I feel that +I shall soon be dead.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +CADIERE IN THE CONVENT: 1730. + + +The Abbess of the Ollioules Convent was young for an abbess, being +only thirty-eight years old. She was not wanting in mind. She was +lively, swift alike in love and in hatred, hurried away by her heart +and her senses also, endowed with very little of the tact and the +moderation needed for the governing of such a body. + +This nunnery drew its livelihood from two sources. On the one side, +there came to it from Toulon two or three nuns of consular families, +who brought good dowers with them, and therefore did what they +pleased. They lived with the Observantine monks who had the ghostly +direction of the convent. On the other hand, these monks, whose order +had spread to Marseilles and many other places, picked up some little +boarders and novices who paid for their keep: a contact full of danger +and unpleasantness for the children, as one may see by the Aubany +affair. + +There was no real confinement, nor much internal order. In the +scorching summer nights of that African climate, peculiarly oppressive +and wearying in the airless passes of Ollioules, nuns and novices +went to and fro with the greatest freedom. The very same things were +going on at Ollioules in 1730 which we saw in 1630 at Loudun. The bulk +of nuns, well-nigh a dozen out of the fifteen who made up the house, +being rather forsaken by the monks, who preferred ladies of loftier +position, were poor creatures, sick at heart, and disinherited, with +nothing to console them but tattling, child’s play, and other +school-girls’ tricks. + +The abbess was afraid that Cadière would soon see through all this. +She made some demur about taking her in. Anon, with some abruptness, +she entirely changed her cue. In a charming letter, all the more +flattering as sent so unexpectedly from such a lady to so young a +girl, she expressed a hope of her leaving the ghostly guidance of +Father Girard. The girl was not, of course, to be transferred to her +Observantines, who were far from capable of the charge. The abbess had +formed the bold, enlivening idea of taking her into her own hands and +becoming her sole director. + +She was very vain. Deeming herself more agreeable than an old Jesuit +confessor, she reckoned on making this prodigy her own, on conquering +her without trouble. She would have worked the young saint for the +benefit of her house. + +She paid her the marked compliment of receiving her on the threshold, +at the street-door. She kissed her, caught her up, led her into the +abbess’s own fine room, and bade her share it with herself. She was +charmed with her modesty, with her invalid grace, with a certain +strangeness at once mysterious and melting. In that short journey the +girl had suffered a great deal. The abbess wanted to lay her down in +her own bed, saying she loved her so that she would have them sleep +together like sisters in one bed. + +For her purpose this was probably more than was needful. It would have +been quite enough to have the saint under her own roof. She would now +have too much the look of a little favourite. The lady, however, was +surprised at the young girl’s hesitation, which doubtless sprang from +her modesty or her humility; in part, perhaps, from a comparison of +her own ill-health with the young health and blooming beauty of the +other. But the abbess tenderly urged her request. + +Under the influence of a fondling so close and so continual, she +deemed that Girard would be forgotten. With all abbesses it had become +the ruling fancy, the pet ambition, to confess their own nuns, +according to the practice allowed by St. Theresa. By this pleasant +scheme of hers the same result would come out of itself, the young +woman telling her confessors only of small things, but keeping the +depths of her heart for one particular person. Caressed continually by +one curious woman, at eventide, in the night, when her head was on the +pillow, she would have let out many a secret, whether her own or +another’s. + +From this living entanglement she could not free herself at the +first. She slept with the abbess. The latter thought she held her fast +by a twofold tie, by the opposite means employed on the saint and on +the woman; that is, on the nervous, sensitive, and, through her +weakness, perhaps sensual girl. Her story, her sayings, whatever fell +from her lips, were all written down. From other sources she picked up +the meanest details of her physical life, and forwarded the report +thereof to Toulon. She would have made her an idol, a pretty little +pet doll. On a slope so slippery the work of allurement doubtless +moved apace. But the girl had scruples and a kind of fear. She made +one great effort, of which her weak health would have made her seem +incapable. She humbly asked leave to quit that dove’s-nest, that couch +too soft and delicate, to go and live in common with the novices or +the boarders. + +Great was the abbess’s surprise; great her mortification. She fancied +herself scorned. She took a spite against the thankless girl, and +never forgave her. + + * * * * * + +From the others Cadière met with a very pleasant welcome. The mistress +of the novices, Madame de Lescot, a nun from Paris, refined and good, +was a worthier woman than the abbess. She seemed to understand the +other--to see in her a poor prey of fate, a young heart full of God, +but cruelly branded by some eccentric spell which seemed like to hurry +her onward to disgrace, to some unhappy end. She busied herself +entirely with looking after the girl, saving her from her own +rashness, interpreting her to others, excusing those things which +might in her be least excusable. + +Saving the two or three noble ladies who lived with the monks and had +small relish for the higher mysticism, they were all fond of her, and +took her for an angel from heaven. Their tender feelings having little +else to engage them, became concentred in her and her alone. They +found her not only pious and wonderfully devout, but a good child +withal, kind-hearted, winning, and entertaining. They were no longer +listless and sick at heart. She engaged and edified them with her +dreams, with stories true, or rather, perhaps, unfeigned, mingled ever +with touches of purest tenderness. She would say, “At night I go +everywhere, even to America. Everywhere I leave letters bidding people +repent. To-night I shall go and seek you out, even when you have +locked yourselves in. We will all go together into the Sacred Heart.” + +The miracle was wrought. Each of them at midnight, so she said, +received the delightful visit. They all fancied they felt Cadière +embracing them, and making them enter the heart of Jesus. They were +very frightened and very happy. Tenderest, most credulous of all, was +Sister Raimbaud, a woman of Marseilles, who tasted this happiness +fifteen times in three months, or nearly once in every six days. + +It was purely the effect of imagination. The proof is, that Cadière +visited all of them at one same moment. The abbess meanwhile was +hurt, being roused at the first to jealousy by the thought that she +only had been left out, and afterwards feeling assured that, lost as +the girl might be in her own dreams, she would get through so many +intimate friends but too clear an inkling into the scandals of the +house. + +These were scarcely hidden from her at all. But as nothing came to +Cadière save by the way of spiritual insight, she fancied they had +been told her in a revelation. Here her kindliness shone out. She felt +a large compassion for the God who was thus outraged. And once again +she imagined herself bound to atone for the rest, to save the sinners +from the punishment they deserved, by draining herself the worst +cruelties which the rage of devils would have power to wreak. + +All this burst upon her on the 25th June, the Feast of St. John. She +was spending the evening with the sisters in the novices’ rooms. With +a loud cry she fell backward in contortions, and lost all +consciousness. + +When she came to, the novices surrounded her, waiting eager to hear +what she was going to say. But the governess, Madame Lescot, guessed +what she would say, felt that she was about to ruin herself. So she +lifted her up, and led her straight to her room, where she found +herself quite flayed, and her linen covered with blood. + +Why did Girard fail her amidst these struggles inward and from +without? She could not make him out. She had much need of support, and +yet he never came, except for one moment at rare intervals, to the +parlour. + +She wrote to him on the 28th June, by her brothers; for though she +could read, she was scarcely able to write. She called to him in the +most stirring, the most urgent tones, and he answers by putting her +off. He has to preach at Hyères, he has a sore throat, and so on. + +Wonderful to tell, it is the abbess herself who brings him thither. No +doubt she was uneasy at Cadière’s discovering so much of the inner +life of the convent. Making sure that the girl would talk of it to +Girard, she wished to forestal her. In a very flattering and tender +note of the 3rd July, she besought the Jesuit to come and see herself +first, for she longed, between themselves, to be his pupil, his +disciple, as humble Nicodemus had been of Christ. “Under your +guidance, by the blessing of that holy freedom which my post ensures +me, I should move forward swiftly and noiselessly in the path of +virtue. The state of our young candidate here will serve me as a fair +and useful pretext.” + +A startling, ill-considered step, betraying some unsoundness in the +lady’s mind. Having failed to supplant Girard with Cadière, she now +essayed to supplant Cadière with Girard. Abruptly, without the least +preface, she stepped forward. She made her decision, like a great +lady, who was still agreeable and quite sure of being taken at her +word, who would go so far as even to talk of the _freedom_ she +enjoyed! + +In taking so false a step she started from a true belief that Girard +had ceased to care much for Cadière. But she might have guessed that +he had other things to perplex him in Toulon. He was disturbed by an +affair no longer turning upon a young girl, but on a lady of ripe age, +easy circumstances, and good standing; on his wisest penitent, Mdlle. +Gravier. Her forty years failed to protect her. He would have no +self-governed sheep in his fold. One day, to her surprise and +mortification, she found herself pregnant, and loud was her wail +thereat. + +Taken up with this new adventure, Girard looked but coldly on the +abbess’s unforeseen advances. He mistrusted them as a trap laid for +him by the Observantines. He resolved to be cautious, saw the abbess, +who was already embarrassed by her rash step, and then saw Cadière, +but only in the chapel where he confessed her. + +The latter was hurt by his want of warmth. In truth his conduct showed +strange inconsistencies. He unsettled her with his light, agreeable +letters, full of little sportive threats which might have been called +lover-like. And yet he never deigned to see her save in public. + +In a note written the same evening she revenged herself in a very +delicate way. She said that when he granted her absolution, she felt +wonderfully dissevered both from herself and from _every other +creature_. + +It was just what Girard would have wanted. His plots had fallen into a +sad tangle, and Cadière was in the way. Her letter enchanted him: far +from being annoyed with her, he enjoined her to keep dissevered. At +the same time, he hinted at the need he had for caution. He had +received a letter, he said, warning him sharply of her faults. +However, as he would set off on the 6th July for Marseilles, he would +see her on the road. + +She awaited him, but no Girard came. Her agitation was very great. It +brought on a sharp fit of her old bodily distemper. She spoke of it to +her dear Sister Raimbaud, who would not leave her, who slept with her, +against the rules. This was on the night of the 6th July, when the +heat in that close oven of Ollioules was most oppressive and +condensed. At four or five o’clock, seeing her writhe in sharp +suffering, the other “thought she had the colic, and went to fetch +some fire from the kitchen.” While she was gone, Cadière tried by one +last effort to bring Girard to her side forthwith. Whether with her +nails she had re-opened the wounds in her head, or whether she had +stuck upon it the sharp iron crown, she somehow made herself all +bloody. The pain transfigured her, until her eyes sparkled again. + +This lasted not less than two hours. The nuns flocked to see her in +this state, and gazed admiringly. They would even have brought their +Observantines thither, had Cadière not prevented them. + +The abbess would have taken good care to tell Girard nothing, lest he +should see her in a plight so touching, so very pitiful. But good +Madame Lescot comforted the girl by sending the news to the father. He +came, but like a true juggler, instead of going up to her room at +once, had himself an ecstatic fit in the chapel, staying there a whole +hour on his knees, prostrate before the Holy Sacrament. Going at +length upstairs, he found Cadière surrounded by all the nuns. They +tell him how for a moment she looked as if she was at mass, how she +seemed to open her lips to receive the Host. “Who should know that +better than myself?” said the knave. “An angel had told me. I repeated +the mass, and gave her the sacrament from Toulon.” They were so upset +by the miracle, that one of them was two days ill. Girard then +addressed Cadière with unseemly gaiety: “So, so, little glutton! would +you rob me of half my share?” + +They withdraw respectfully, leaving these two alone. Behold him face +to face with his bleeding victim, so pale, so weak, but agitated all +the more! Anyone would have been greatly moved. The avowal expressed +by her blood, her wounds, rather than spoken words, was likely to +reach his heart. It was a humbling sight; but who would not have +pitied her? This innocent girl could for one moment yield to nature! +In her short unhappy life, a stranger as she was to the charms of +sense, the poor young saint could still show one hour of weakness! All +he had hitherto enjoyed of her without her knowledge, became mere +nought. With her soul, her will, he would now be master of everything. + +In her deposition Cadière briefly and bashfully said that she lost all +knowledge of what happened next. In a confession made to one of her +friends she uttered no complaints, but let her understand the truth. + +And what did Girard do in return for so charmingly bold a flight of +that impatient heart? He scolded her. He was only chilled by a warmth +which would have set any other heart on fire. His tyrannous soul +wanted nothing but the dead, the merest plaything of his will. And +this girl, by the boldness of her first move, had forced him to come. +The scholar had drawn the master along. The peevish pedant treated the +matter as he would have treated a rebellion at school. His lewd +severities, his coolly selfish pursuit of a cruel pleasure, blighted +the unhappy girl, who now had nothing left her but remorse. + +It was no less shocking a fact, that the blood poured out for his sake +had no other effect than to tempt him to make the most of it for his +own purposes. In this, perhaps his last, interview he sought to make +so far sure of the poor thing’s discretion, that, however forsaken by +him, she herself might still believe in him. He asked if he was to be +less favoured than the nuns who had seen the miracle. She let herself +bleed before him. The water with which he washed away the blood he +drank himself,[113] and made her drink also, and by this hateful +communion, he thought to bind fast her soul. + + [113] This communion of blood prevailed among the Northern + _Reiters_. See my _Origines_. + +This lasted two or three hours, and it was now near noon. The abbess +was scandalized. She resolved to go with the dinner herself, and make +them open the door. Girard took some tea: it being Friday, he +pretended to be fasting; though he had doubtless armed himself well at +Toulon. Cadière asked for coffee. The lay sister who managed the +kitchen was surprised at this on such a day. But without that +strengthening draught she would have fainted away. It set her up a +little, and she kept hold of Girard still. He stayed with her, no +longer indeed locked in, till four o’clock, seeking to efface the +gloomy impression caused by his conduct in the morning. By dint of +lying about friendship and fatherhood, he somewhat reassured the +susceptible creature, and calmed her troubled spirits. She showed him +the way out, and, walking after him, took, childlike, two or three +skips for joy. He said, drily, “Little fool!” + + * * * * * + +She paid heavily for her weakness. At nine of that same night she had +a dreadful vision, and was heard crying out, “O God! keep off from me! +get back!” On the morning of the 8th, at mass she did not stay for the +communion, deeming herself, no doubt, unworthy, but made her escape +to her own room. Thereon arose much scandal. Yet so greatly was she +beloved, that one of the nuns ran after her, and, telling a +compassionate falsehood, swore she had beheld Jesus giving her the +sacrament with His own hand. + +Madame Lescot delicately and cleverly wrote a legend out of the mystic +ejaculations, the holy sighs, the devout tears, and whatever else +burst forth from this shattered heart. Strange to say, these women +tenderly conspired to shield a woman. Nothing tells more than this in +behalf of poor Cadière and her delightful gifts. Already in one +month’s time she had become the child of all. They defended her in +everything she did. Innocent though she might be, they saw in her only +the victim of the Devil’s attacks. One kind sturdy woman of the +people, Matherone, daughter of the Ollioules locksmith, and porteress +herself to the convent, on seeing some of Girard’s indecent liberties, +said, in spite of them, “No matter: she is a saint.” And when he once +talked of taking her from the convent, she cried out, “Take away our +Mademoiselle Cadière! I will have an iron door made to keep her from +going.” + +Alarmed at the state of things, and at the use to which it might be +turned by the abbess and her monks, Cadière’s brethren who came to her +every day, took courage to be beforehand; and in a formal letter +written in her name to Girard, reminded him of the revelation given +to her on the 25th June regarding the morals of the Observantines. It +was time, they said, “to carry out God’s purposes in this matter,” +namely, of course, to demand an inquiry, to accuse the accusers. + +Their excess of boldness was very rash. Cadière, now all but dying, +had no such thoughts in her head. Her women-friends imagined that he +who had caused the disturbance would, perhaps, bring back the calm. +They besought Girard to come and confess her. A dreadful scene took +place. At the confessional she uttered cries and wailings audible +thirty paces off. The curious among them found some amusement +listening to her, and were not disappointed. Girard was inflicting +chastisement. Again and again he said, “Be calm, mademoiselle!” In +vain did he try to absolve her. She would not be absolved. On the +12th, she had so sharp a pang below her heart, that she felt as though +her sides were bursting. On the 14th, she seemed fast dying, and her +mother was sent for. She received the viaticum; and on the morrow made +a public confession, “the most touching, the most expressive that had +ever been heard. We were drowned in tears.” On the 20th, she was in a +state of heart-rending agony. After that she had a sudden and saving +change for the better, marked by a very soothing vision. She beheld +the sinful Magdalen pardoned, caught up into glory, filling in heaven +the place which Lucifer had lost. + +Girard, however, could only ensure her discretion by corrupting her +yet further, by choking her remorse. Sometimes he would come to the +parlour and greet her with bold embraces. But oftener he sent his +faithful followers, Guiol and others, who sought to initiate her into +their own disgraceful secrets, while seeming to sympathise tenderly +with the sufferings of their outspoken friend. Girard not only winked +at this, but himself spoke freely to Cadière of such matters as the +pregnancy of Mdlle. Gravier. He wanted her to ask him to Ollioules, to +calm his irritation, to persuade him that such a circumstance might be +a delusion of the Devil’s causing, which could perchance be dispelled. + +These impure teachings made no way with Cadière. They were sure to +anger her brethren, to whom they were not unknown. The letters they +wrote in her name are very curious. Enraged at heart and sorely +wounded, accounting Girard a villain, but obliged to make their sister +speak of him with respectful tenderness, they still, by snatches, let +their wrath become visible. + +As for Girard’s letters, they are pieces of laboured writing, +manifestly meant for the trial which might take place. Let us talk of +the only one which he did not get into his hands to tamper with. It is +dated the 22nd July. It is at once sour and sweet, agreeable, +trifling, the letter of a careless man. The meaning of it is thus:-- + +“The bishop reached Toulon this morning, and will go to see +Cadière.... They will settle together what to do and say. If the Grand +Vicar and Father Sabatier wish to see her, and ask to see her wounds, +she will tell them that she has been forbidden to do or say aught. + +“I am hungering to see you again, to see the whole of you. You know +that I only demand _my right_. It is so long since I have seen more +than half of you (he means to say, at the parlour grating). Shall I +tire you? Well, do you not also tire me?” And so on. + +A strange letter in every way. He distrusts alike the bishop and the +Jesuit, his own colleague, old Sabatier. It is at bottom the letter of +a restless culprit. He knows that in her hands she holds his letters, +his papers, the means, in short, of ruining him. The two young men +write back in their sister’s name a spirited answer--the only one that +has a truthful sound. They answer him line for line, without insult, +but with a roughness often ironical, and betraying the wrath pent-up +within them. The sister promises to obey him, to say nothing either to +the bishop or the Jesuit. She congratulates him on having “boldness +enough to exhort others to suffer.” She takes up and returns him his +shocking gallantry, but in a shocking way; and here we trace a man’s +hand, the hand of those two giddy heads. + +Two days after, they went and told her to decide on leaving the +convent forthwith. Girard was dismayed. He thought his papers would +disappear with her. The greatness of his terror took away his senses. +He had the weakness to go and weep at the Ollioules parlour, to fall +on his knees before her, and ask her if she had the heart to leave +him. Touched by his words, the poor girl said “No,” went forward, and +let him embrace her. And yet this Judas wanted only to deceive her, to +gain a few days’ time for securing help from a higher quarter. + +On the 29th there is an utter change. Cadière stays at Ollioules, begs +him to excuse her, vows submission. It is but too clear that he has +set some mighty influences at work; that from the 29th threats come +in, perhaps from Aix, and presently from Paris. The Jesuit bigwigs +have been writing, and their courtly patrons from Versailles. + +In such a struggle, what were the brethren to do? No doubt they took +counsel with their chiefs, who would certainly warn them against +setting too hard on Girard as a _libertine confessor_; for thereby +offence would be given to all the clergy, who deemed confession their +dearest prize. It was needful, on the contrary; to sever him from the +priests by proving the strangeness of his teaching, by bringing him +forward as a _Quietist_. With that one word they might lead him a long +way. In 1698, a vicar in the neighbourhood of Dijon had been burnt for +Quietism. They conceived the idea of drawing up a memoir, dictated +apparently by their sister, to whom the plan was really unknown, in +which the high and splendid Quietism of Girard should be affirmed, +and therefore in effect denounced. This memoir recounted the visions +she had seen in Lent. In it the name of Girard was already in heaven. +She saw it joined with her own in the Book of Life. + +They durst not take this memoir to the bishop. But they got their +friend, little Camerle, his youthful chaplain, to steal it from them. +The bishop read it, and circulated some copies about the town. On the +21st August, Girard being at the palace, the bishop laughingly said to +him, “Well, father, so your name is in the Book of Life!” + +He was overcome, fancied himself lost, wrote to Cadière in terms of +bitter reproach. Once more with tears he asked for his papers. Cadière +in great surprise vowed that her memoir had never gone out of her +brother’s hands. But when she found out her mistake, her despair was +unbounded. The sharpest pangs of body and soul beset her. Once she +thought herself on the point of death. She became like one mad. “I +long so much to suffer. Twice I caught up the rod of penance, and +wielded it so savagely as to draw a great deal of blood.” In the midst +of this dreadful outbreak, which proved at once the weakness of her +head and the boundless tenderness of her conscience, Guiol finished +her by describing Girard as nearly dead. This raised her compassion to +the highest pitch. + +She was going to give up the papers. And yet it was but too clear +that these were her only safeguard and support, the only proofs of her +innocence, and the tricks of which she had been made the victim. To +give them up was to risk a change of characters, to risk the +imputation of having herself seduced a saint, the chance, in short, of +seeing all the blame transferred to her own side. + +But, if she must either be ruined herself or else ruin Girard, she +would far sooner accept the former result. A demon, Guiol of course, +tempted her in this very way, with the wondrous sublimity of such a +sacrifice. God, she wrote, asked of her a bloody offering. She could +tell her of saints who, being accused, did not justify, but rather +accused themselves, and died like lambs. This example Cadière +followed. When Girard was accused before her, she defended him, +saying, “He is right, and I told a falsehood.” + +She might have yielded up the letters of Girard only; but in so great +an outflowing of heart she would have no haggling, and so gave him +even copies of her own. + +Thus at the same time he held these drafts written by the Jacobin, and +the copies made and sent him by the other brother. Thenceforth he had +nothing to fear: no further check could be given him. He might make +away with them or put them back again; might destroy, blot out, and +falsify at pleasure. He was perfectly free to carry on his forger’s +work, and he worked away to some purpose. Out of twenty-four letters, +sixteen remain; and these still read like elaborately forged +afterthoughts. + +With everything in his own hands, Girard could laugh at his foes. It +was now their turn to be afraid. The bishop, a man of the upper world, +was too well acquainted with Versailles and the name won by the +Jesuits not to treat them with proper tenderness. He even thought it +safest to make Girard some small amends for his unkind reproach about +The Book of Life; and so he graciously informed him that he would like +to stand godfather to the child of one of his kinsmen. + +The Bishops of Toulon had always been high lords. The list of them +shows all the first names of Provence, and some famous names from +Italy. From 1712 to 1737, under the Regency and Fleury, the bishop was +one of the La Tours of Pin. He was very rich, having also the Abbeys +of Aniane and St. William of the Desert, in Languedoc. He behaved +well, it was said, during the plague of 1721. However, he stayed but +seldom at Toulon, lived quite as a man of the world, never said mass, +and passed for something more than a lady’s man. + +In July he went to Toulon, and though Girard would have turned him +aside from Ollioules and Cadière, he was curious to see her +nevertheless. He saw her in one of her best moments. She took his +fancy, seemed to him a pretty little saint; and so far did he believe +in her enlightenment from above, as to speak to her thoughtlessly of +all his affairs, his interests, his future doings, consulting her as +he would have consulted a teller of fortunes. + +In spite, however, of the brethren’s prayers he hesitated to take her +away from Ollioules and from Girard. A means was found of resolving +him. A report was spread about Toulon, that the girl had shown a +desire to flee into the wilderness, as her model saint, Theresa, had +essayed to do at twelve years old. Girard, they said, had put this +fancy into her head, that he might one day carry her off beyond the +diocese whose pride she was, and box-up his treasure in some far +convent, where the Jesuits, enjoying the whole monopoly, might turn to +the most account her visions, her miracles, her winsome ways as a +young saint of the people. The bishop felt much hurt. He instructed +the abbess to give Mdlle. Cadière up to no one save her mother, who +was certain to come very shortly and take her away from the convent to +a country-house belonging to the family. + +In order not to offend Girard, they got Cadière to write and say that, +if such a change incommoded him, he could find a colleague and give +her a second confessor. He saw their meaning, and preferred disarming +jealousy by abandoning Cadière. He gave her up on the 15th September, +in a note most carefully worded and piteously humble, by which he +strove to leave her friendly and tender towards himself. “If I have +sometimes done wrong as concerning you, you will never at least forget +how wishful I have been to help you.... I am, and ever will be, all +yours in the Secret Heart of Jesus.” + +The bishop, however, was not reassured. He fancied that the three +Jesuits, Girard, Sabatier, and Grignet, wanted to beguile him, and +some day, with some order from Paris, rob him of his little woman. On +the 17th September, he decided once for all to send his carriage, a +light fashionable _phaeton_, as it was called, and have her taken off +at once to her mother’s country-house. + +By way of soothing and shielding her, of putting her in good trim, he +looked out for a confessor, and applied first to a Carmelite who had +confessed her before Girard came. But he, being an old man, declined. +Some others also probably hung back. The bishop had to take a +stranger, but three months come from the County (Avignon), one Father +Nicholas, prior of the Barefooted Carmelites. He was a man of forty, +endowed with brains and boldness, very firm and even stubborn. He +showed himself worthy of such a trust by rejecting it. It was not the +Jesuits he feared, but the girl herself. He foreboded no good +therefrom, thought that the angel might be an angel of darkness, and +feared that the Evil One under the shape of a gentle girl would deal +his blows with all the more baleful effect. + +But he could not see her without feeling somewhat reassured. She +seemed so very simple, so pleased at length to have a safe, steady +person, on whom she might lean. The continual wavering in which she +had been kept by Girard, had caused her the greatest suffering. On the +first day she spoke more than she had done for a month past, told him +of her life, her sufferings, her devotions, and her visions. Night +itself, a hot night in mid-September, did not stop her. In her room +everything was open, the windows, and the three doors. She went on +even to daybreak, while her brethren lay near her asleep. On the +morrow she resumed her tale under the vine-bower. The Carmelite was +amazed, and asked himself if the Devil could ever be so earnest in +praise of God. + +Her innocence was clear. She seemed a nice obedient girl, gentle as a +lamb, frolicsome as a puppy. She wanted to play at bowls, a common +game in those country-places, nor did he for his part refuse to join +her. + +If there was a spirit in her, it could not at any rate be called the +spirit of lying. On looking at her closely for a long time, you could +not doubt that her wounds now and then did really bleed. He took care +to make no such immodest scrutiny of them as Girard had done, +contenting himself with a look at the wound upon her foot. Of her +trances he saw quite enough. On a sudden, a burning heat would diffuse +itself everywhere from her heart. Losing her consciousness, she went +into convulsions and talked wildly. + +The Carmelite clearly perceived that in her were two persons, the +young woman and the Demon. The former was honest, nay, very fresh of +heart; ignorant, for all that had been done to her; little able to +understand the very things that had brought her into such sore +trouble. When, before confession, she spoke of Girard’s kisses, the +Carmelite roughly said, “But those are very great sins.” + +“O God!” she answered, weeping, “I am lost indeed, for he has done +much more than that to me!” + +The bishop came to see. For him the country-house was only the length +of a walk. She answered his questions artlessly, told him at least how +things began. The bishop was angry, mortified, very wroth. No doubt he +guessed the remainder. There was nought to keep him from raising a +great outcry against Girard. Not caring for the danger of a struggle +with the Jesuits, he entered thoroughly into the Carmelite’s views, +allowed that she was bewitched, and added that _Girard himself was the +wizard_. He wanted to lay him that very moment under a solemn ban, to +bring him to disgrace and ruin. Cadière prayed for him who had done +her so much wrong; vengeance she would not have. Falling on her knees +before the bishop, she implored him to spare Girard, to speak no more +of things so sorrowful. With touching humility, she said, “It is +enough for me to be enlightened at last, to know that I was living in +sin.” Her Jacobin brother took her part, foreseeing the perils of such +a war, and doubtful whether the bishop would stand fast. + +Her attacks of disorder were now fewer. The season had changed. The +burning summer was over. Nature at length showed mercy. It was the +pleasant month of October. The bishop had the keen delight of feeling +that she had been saved by him. No longer under Girard’s influence in +the stifling air of Ollioules, but well cared-for by her family, by +the brave and honest monk, protected, too, by the bishop, who never +grudged his visits, and who shielded her with his steady countenance, +the young girl became altogether calm. + +For seven weeks or so she seemed quite well-behaved. The bishop’s +happiness was so great that he wanted the Carmelite, with Cadière’s +help, to look after Girard’s other penitents, and bring them also back +to their senses. They should go to the country-house; how unwillingly, +and with how ill a grace we can easily guess. In truth, it was +strangely ill-judged to bring those women before the bishop’s ward, a +girl so young still, and but just delivered from her own ecstatic +ravings. + +The state of things became ridiculous and sorely embittered. Two +parties faced each other, Girard’s women and those of the bishop. On +the side of the latter were a German lady and her daughter, dear +friends of Cadière’s. On the other side were the rebels, headed by the +Guiol. With her the bishop treated, in hopes of getting her to enter +into relations with the Carmelite, and bring her friends over to him. +He sent her his own clerk, and then a solicitor, an old lover of +Guiol’s. All this failing of any effect, the bishop came to his last +resource, determined to summon them all to his palace. Here they +mostly denied those trances and mystic marks of which they had made +such boast. One of them, Guiol, of course, astonished him yet more by +her shamelessly treacherous offer to prove to him, on the spot, that +they had no marks whatever about their bodies. They had deemed him +wanton enough to fall into such a snare. But he kept clear of it very +well, declining the offer with thanks to those who, at the cost of +their own modesty, would have had him copy Girard, and provoke the +laughter of all the town. + +The bishop was not lucky. On the one hand, these bold wenches made fun +of him. On the other, his success with Cadière was now being undone. +She had hardly entered her own narrow lane in gloomy Toulon, when she +began to fall off. She was just in those dangerous and baleful centres +where her illness began, on the very field of the battle waged by the +two hostile parties. The Jesuits, whose rearguard everyone saw in the +Court, had on their side the crafty, the prudent, the knowing. The +Carmelite had none but the bishop with him, was not even backed by his +own brethren, nor yet by the clergy. He had one weapon, however, in +reserve. On the 8th November, he got out of Cadière a written power to +reveal her confession in case of need. + +It was a daring, dauntless step, which made Girard shudder. He was +not very brave, and would have been undone had his cause not been that +of the Jesuits also. He cowered down in the depths of their college. +But his colleague Sabatier, an old, sanguine, passionate fellow, went +straight to the bishop’s palace. He entered into the prelate’s +presence, like another Popilius, bearing peace or war in his gown. He +pushed him to the wall, made him understand that a suit with the +Jesuits would lead to his own undoing; that he would remain for ever +Bishop of Toulon; would never rise to an archbishopric. Yet further, +with the freedom of an apostle strong at Versailles, he assured him +that if this affair exposed the morals of a Jesuit, it would shed no +less light on the morals of a bishop. In a letter, clearly planned by +Girard, it was pretended that the Jesuits held themselves ready in the +background, to hurl dreadful recriminations against the prelate, +declaring his way of life not only unepiscopal, but _abominable_ +withal. The sly, faithless Girard and the hot-headed Sabatier, swollen +with rage and spitefulness, would have pressed the calumnious charge. +They would not have failed to say that all this matter was about a +girl; that if Girard had taken care of her when ill, the bishop had +gotten her when she was well. What a commotion would be caused by such +a scandal in the well-regulated life of the great worldly lord! It +were too laughable a piece of chivalry to make war in revenge for the +maidenhood of a weak little fool, to embroil oneself for her sake with +all honest people! The Cardinal of Bonzi died indeed of grief at +Toulouse, but that was on account of a fair lady, the Marchioness of +Ganges. The bishop, on his part, risked his ruin, risked the chance of +being overwhelmed with shame and ridicule, for the child of a +retail-dealer in the Rue de l’Hôpital! + +Sabatier’s threatenings made all the greater impression, because the +bishop himself clung less firmly to Cadière. He did not thank her for +falling ill again; for giving the lie to his former success; for doing +him a wrong by her relapse. He bore her a grudge for having failed to +cure her. He said to himself that Sabatier was in the right; that he +had better come to a compromise. The change was sudden--a kind of +warning from above. All at once, like Paul on the way to Damascus, he +beheld the light, and became a convert to the Jesuits. + +Sabatier would not let him go. He put paper before him, and made him +write and sign a decree forbidding the Carmelite, his agent with +Cadière, and another forbidding her brother, the Jacobin. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE TRIAL OF CADIERE: 1730-1731. + + +We can guess how this alarming blow was taken by the Cadière family. +The sick girl’s attacks became frequent and fearful. By a cruel chance +they brought on a kind of epidemic among her intimate friends. Her +neighbour, the German lady, who had trances also, which she had +hitherto deemed divine, now fell into utter fright, and fancied they +came from hell. This worthy dame of fifty years remembered that she, +too, had often had unclean thoughts: she believed herself given over +to the Devil; saw nothing but devils about her; and escaping from her +own house in spite of her daughter’s watchfulness, entreated shelter +from the Cadières. From that time the house became unbearable; +business could not be carried on. The elder Cadière inveighed +furiously against Girard, crying, “He shall be served like Gauffridi: +he, too, shall be burnt!” And the Jacobin added, “Rather would we +waste the whole of our family estate!” + +On the night of the 17th November, Cadière screamed, and was like one +choking. They thought she was going to die. The eldest Cadière, the +tradesman, lost his wits, and called out to his neighbours from the +window, “Help! the Devil is throttling my sister!” They came running +up almost in their shirts. The doctors and surgeons wanted to apply +the cupping-glasses to a case of what they called “suffocation of the +womb.” While some were gone to fetch these, they succeeded in +unlocking her teeth and making her swallow a drop of brandy, which +brought her to herself. Meanwhile there also came to the girl some +doctors of the soul; first an old priest confessor to Cadière’s +mother, and then some parsons of Toulon. All this noise and shouting, +the arrival of the priests in full dress, the preparations for +exorcising, had brought everyone out into the street. The newcomers +kept asking what was the matter. “Cadière has been bewitched by +Girard,” was the continual reply. We may imagine the pity and the +wrath of the people. + +Greatly alarmed, but anxious to cast the fear back on others, the +Jesuits did a very barbarous thing. They returned to the bishop, +ordered and insisted that Cadière should be brought to trial; that the +attack should be made that very day; that justice should make an +unforeseen descent on this poor girl, as she lay rattling in the +throat after the last dreadful seizure. + +Sabatier never left the bishop until the latter had called his judge, +his officer, the Vicar-general Larmedieu, and his prosecutor or +episcopal advocate, Esprit Reybaud, and commanded them to go to work +forthwith. + +By the Canon Law this was impossible, illegal. A _preliminary inquiry +was needed_ into the facts, before the judicial business could begin. +There was another difficulty: the spiritual judge had no right to make +such an arrest save for _a rejection of the Sacrament_. The two +church-lawyers must have made these objections. But Sabatier would +hear of no excuses. If matters were allowed to drag in this cold legal +way, he would miss his stroke of terror. + +Larmedieu was a compliant judge, a friend of the clergy. He was not +one of your rude magistrates who go straight before them, like blind +boars, on the high-road of the law, without seeing or respecting +anyone. He had shown great regard for Aubany, the patron of Ollioules, +during his trial; helping him to escape by the slowness of his own +procedure. Afterwards, when he knew him to be at Marseilles, as if +that was far from France, in the _ultima thule_ or _terra incognita_ +of ancient geographers, he would not budge any further. This, however, +was a very different case: the judge who was so paralytic against +Aubany, had wings, and wings of lightning, for Cadière. It was nine in +the morning when the dwellers in the lane saw with much curiosity a +grand procession arrive at the Cadières’ door, with Master Larmedieu +and the episcopal advocate at the head, honoured by an escort of two +clergymen, doctors of theology. The house was invaded: the sick girl +was summoned before them. They made her swear to tell the truth +against herself; swear to defame herself by speaking out in the ears +of justice matters that touched her conscience and the confessional +only. + +She might have dispensed with an answer, for none of the usual forms +had been observed: but she would not raise the question. She took the +oath that was meant to disarm and betray her. For, being once bound +thereby, she told everything, even to those shameful and ridiculous +details which it must be very painful for any girl to acknowledge. + +Larmedieu’s official statement and his first examination point to a +clearly settled agreement between him and the Jesuits. Girard was to +be brought forward as the dupe and prey of Cadière’s knavery. Fancy a +man of sixty, a doctor, professor, director of nuns, being therewithal +so innocent and credulous, that a young girl, a mere child, was enough +to draw him into the snare! The cunning, shameless wanton had beguiled +him with her visions, but failed to draw him into her own excesses. +Enraged thereat, she endowed him with every baseness that the fancy of +a Messalina could suggest to her! + +So far from giving grounds for any such idea, the examination brings +out the victim’s gentleness in a very touching way. Evidently she +accuses others only through constraint, under the pressure of her oath +just taken. She is gentle towards her enemies, even to the faithless +Guiol who, in her brother’s words, had betrayed her; had done her +worst to corrupt her; had ruined her, last of all, by making her give +up the papers which would have insured her safety. + +The Cadière brothers were frightened at their sister’s artlessness. In +her regard for her oath she gave herself up without reserve to be +vilified, alas! for ever; to have ballads sung about her; to be mocked +by the very foes of Jesuits and silly scoffing libertines. + +The mischief done, they wanted at least to have it defined, to have +the official report of the priests checked by some more serious +measure. Seeming though she did to be the party accused, they made her +the accuser, and prevailed on Marteli Chantard, the King’s Lieutenant +Civil and Criminal, to come and take her deposition. In this document, +short and clear, the fact of her seduction is clearly established; +likewise the reproaches she uttered against Girard for his lewd +endearments, reproaches at which he only laughed; likewise the advice +he gave her, to let herself be possessed by the Demon; likewise the +means he used for keeping her wounds open, and so on. + +The King’s officer, the Lieutenant, was bound to carry the matter +before his own court. For the spiritual judge in his hurry had failed +to go through the forms of ecclesiastic law, and so made his +proceedings null. But the lay magistrate lacked the courage for this. +He let himself be harnessed to the clerical inquiry, accepted +Larmedieu for his colleague, went himself to sit and hear the evidence +in the bishop’s court. The clerk of the bishopric wrote it down, and +not the clerk of the King’s Lieutenant. Did he write it down +faithfully? We have reason to doubt that, when we find him threatening +the witnesses, and going every night to show their statements to the +Jesuits. + +The two curates of Cadière’s parish, who were heard first, deposed +drily, not in her favour, yet by no means against her, certainly not +in favour of the Jesuits. These latter saw that everything was going +amiss for them. Lost to all shame, at the risk of angering the people, +they determined to break all down. They got from the bishop an order +to imprison Cadière and the chief witnesses she wanted to be heard. +These were the German lady and Batarelle. The girl herself was placed +in the Refuge, a convent-prison; the ladies in a bridewell, the +_Good-Shepherd_, where mad women and foul streetwalkers needing +punishment were thrown. On the 26th November, Cadière was dragged from +her bed and given over to the Ursulines, penitents of Girard’s, who +laid her duly on some rotten straw. + +A fear of them thus established, the witnesses might now be heard. +They began with two, choice and respectable. One was the Guiol, +notorious for being Girard’s pander, a woman of keen and clever +tongue, who was commissioned to hurl the first dart and open the wound +of slander. The other was Laugier, the little seamstress, whom Cadière +had supported and for whose apprenticeship she had paid. While she lay +with child by Girard, this Laugier had cried out against him; now she +washed away her fault by sneering at Cadière and defiling her +benefactress, but in a very clumsy way, like the shameless wanton she +was; ascribing to her impudent speeches quite contrary to her known +habits. Then came Mdlle. Gravier and her cousin Reboul--all the +_Girardites_, in short, as they were called in Toulon. + +But, do as they would, the light would burst forth now and then. The +wife of a purveyor in the house where these Girardites met together, +said, with cruel plainness, that she could not abide them, that they +disturbed the whole house; she spoke of their noisy bursts of +laughter, of their suppers paid for out of the money collected for the +poor, and so forth. + +They were sore afraid lest the nuns should speak out for Cadière. The +bishop’s clerk told them, as if from the bishop himself, that those +who spoke evil should be chastised. As a yet stronger measure, they +ordered back from Marseilles the gay Father Aubany, who had some +ascendant over the nuns. His affair with the girl he had violated was +got settled for him. Her parents were made to understand that justice +could do nothing in their case. The child’s good name was valued at +eight hundred livres, which were paid on Aubany’s account. So, full of +zeal, he returned, a thorough Jesuit, to his troop at Ollioules. The +poor troop trembled indeed, when this worthy father told them of his +commission to warn them that, if they did not behave themselves, “they +should be put to the torture.” + +For all that, they could not get as much as they wanted from these +fifteen nuns. Two or three at most were on Girard’s side, but all +stated facts, especially about the 7th July, which bore directly +against him. + +In despair the Jesuits came to an heroic decision, in order to make +sure of their witnesses. They stationed themselves in an outer hall +which led into the court. There they stopped those going in, tampered +with them, threatened them, and, if they were against Girard, coolly +debarred their entrance by thrusting them out of doors. + +Thus the clerical judge and the King’s officer were only as puppets in +the Jesuits’ hands. The whole town saw this and trembled. During +December, January, and February, the Cadière family drew up and +diffused a complaint touching the way in which justice was denied them +and witnesses suborned. The Jesuits themselves felt that the place +would no longer hold them. They evoked help from a higher quarter. +This seemed best available in the shape of a decree of the Great +Council, which would have brought the matter before itself and hushed +up everything, as Mazarin had done in the Louviers affair. But the +Chancellor was D’Aguesseau; and the Jesuits had no wish to let the +matter go up to Paris. They kept it still in Provence. On the 16th +January, 1731, they got the King to determine that the Parliament of +Provence, where they had plenty of friends, should pass sentence on +the inquiry which two of its councillors were conducting at Toulon. + +M. Faucon, a layman, and M. de Charleval, a councillor of the Church, +came in fact and straightway marched down among the Jesuits. These +eager commissioners made so little secret of their loud and bitter +partiality, as to toss out an order for Cadière’s remand, just as they +might have done to an accused prisoner; whilst Girard was most +politely called up and allowed to go free, to keep on saying mass and +hearing confessions. And so the plaintiff was kept under lock and key, +in her enemies’ hands, exposed to all manner of cruelty from Girard’s +devotees. + +From these honest Ursulines she met with just such a reception as if +they had been charged to bring about her death. The room they gave her +was the cell of a mad nun who made everything filthy. In the nun’s old +straw, in the midst of a frightful stench, she lay. Her kinsmen on the +morrow had much ado to get in a coverlet and mattress for her use. For +her nurse and keeper she was allowed a poor tool of Girard’s, a +lay-sister, daughter to that very Guiol who had betrayed her; a girl +right worthy of her mother, capable of any wickedness, a source of +danger to her modesty, perhaps even to her life. They submitted her to +a course of penance in her case specially painful, refusing her the +right of confessing herself or taking the sacrament. She relapsed into +her illness from the time she was debarred the latter privilege. Her +fierce foe, the Jesuit Sabatier, came into her cell, and formed a new +and startling scheme to win her by a bribe of the holy wafer. The +bargaining began. They offered her terms: she should communicate if +she would only acknowledge herself a slanderer, unworthy of +communicating. In her excessive humbleness she might have done so. +But, while ruining herself, she would also have ruined the Carmelite +and her own brethren. + +Reduced to Pharisaical tricks, they took to expounding her speeches. +Whatever she uttered in a mystic sense they feigned to accept in its +material hardness. To free herself from such snares she displayed, +what they had least expected, very great presence of mind. + +A yet more treacherous plan for robbing her of the public sympathy and +setting the laughers against her, was to find her a lover. They +pretended that she had proposed to a young blackguard that they should +set off together and roam the world. + +The great lords of that day, being fond of having children and little +pages to wait on them, readily took in the better-mannered of their +peasant’s sons. In this way had the bishop dealt with the boy of one +of his tenants. He washed his face, as it were; made him tidy. +Presently, when the favourite grew up, he gave him the tonsure, +dressed him up like an abbé, and dubbed him his chaplain at the age of +twenty. This person was the Abbé Camerle. Brought up with the footmen +and made to do everything, he was, like many a half-scrubbed country +youth, a sly, but simple lout. He saw that the prelate since his +arrival at Toulon had been curious about Cadière and far from friendly +to Girard. He thought to please and amuse his master by turning +himself, at Ollioules, into a spy on their suspected intercourse. But +after the bishop changed through fear of the Jesuits, Camerle became +equally zealous in helping Girard with active service against Cadière. + +He came one day, like another Joseph, to say that Mdlle. Cadière had, +like Potiphar’s wife, been tempting him, and trying to shake his +virtue. Had this been true, it was all the more cowardly of him thus +to punish her for a moment’s weakness, to take so mean an advantage of +some light word. But his education as page and seminarist was not such +as to bring him either honour or the love of women. + +She extricated herself with spirit and success, covering him with +shame. The two angry commissioners saw her making so triumphant an +answer, that they cut the investigation short, and cut down the number +of her witnesses. Out of the sixty-eight she summoned, they allowed +but thirty-eight to appear. Regardless alike of the delays and the +forms of justice, they hurried forward the confronting of witnesses. +Yet nothing was gained, thereby. On the 25th and again on the 26th +February, she renewed her crushing declarations. + +Such was their rage thereat, that they declared their regret at the +want of torments and executioners in Toulon, “who might have made her +sing out a little.” These things formed their _ultima ratio_. They +were employed, by the Parliaments through all that century. I have +before me a warm defence of torture,[114] written in 1780, by a +learned member of Parliament, who also became a member of the Great +Council; it was dedicated to the King, Louis XVI., and crowned with +the flattering approval of His Holiness Pius VI. + + [114] Muyart de Vouglans, in the sequel to his _Loix + Criminelles_, 1780. + +But, in default of the torture that would have made her sing, she was +made to speak by a still better process. On the 27th February, Guiol’s +daughter, the lay-sister who acted as her jailer, came to her at an +early hour with a glass of wine. She was astonished: she was not at +all thirsty: she never drank wine, especially pure wine, of a morning. +The lay-sister, a rough, strong menial, such as they keep in convents +to manage crazy or refractory women, and to punish children, +overwhelmed the feeble sufferer with remonstrances that looked like +threats. Unwilling as she was, she drank. And she was forced to drink +it all, to the very dregs, which she found unpleasantly salt. + +What was this repulsive draught? We have already seen how clever these +old confessors of nuns were at remedies of various kinds. In this case +the wine alone would have done for so weakly a patient. It had been +quite enough to make her drunk, to draw from her at once some +stammering speeches, which the clerk might have moulded into a +downright falsehood. But a drug of some kind, perhaps some wizard’s +simple, which would act for several days, was added to the wine, in +order to prolong its effects and leave her no way of disproving +anything laid to her charge. + +In her declaration of the 27th February, how sudden and entire a +change! It is nothing but a defence of Girard! Strange to say, the +commissioners make no remark on so abrupt a change. The strange, +shameful sight of a young girl drunk causes no astonishment, fails to +put them on their guard. She is made to own that all which had passed +between herself and Girard was merely the offspring of her own +diseased fancy; that all she had spoken of as real, at the bidding of +her brethren and the Carmelite, was nothing more than a dream. Not +content with whitening Girard, she must blacken her own friends, must +crush them, and put the halter round their necks. + +Especially wonderful is the clearness of her deposition, the neat way +in which it is worded. The hand of the skilful clerk peeps out +therefrom. It is very strange, however, that now they are in so fair a +way, they do not follow it up. From the 27th to the 6th of March there +is no further questioning. + +On the 28th, the poison having doubtless done its work, and plunged +her into a perfect stupor, or else a kind of Sabbatic frenzy, it was +impossible to bring her forth. After that, while her head was still +disordered, they could easily give her other potions of which she +would know and remember nothing. What happened during those six days +seems to have been so shocking, so sad for poor Cadière, that neither +she nor her brother had the heart to speak of it twice. Nor would they +have spoken at all, had not the brethren themselves incurred a +prosecution aiming at their own lives. + +Having won his cause through Cadière’s falsehood, Girard dared to come +and see her in her prison, where she lay stupefied or in despair, +forsaken alike of earth and heaven, and if any clear thoughts were +left her, possessed with the dreadful consciousness of having by her +last deposition murdered her own near kin. Her own ruin was complete +already. But another trial, that of her brothers and the bold +Carmelite, would now begin. She may in her remorse have been tempted +to soften Girard, to keep him from proceeding against them, above all +to save herself from being put to the torture. Girard, at any rate, +took advantage of her utter weakness, and behaved like the determined +scoundrel he really was. + +Alas! her wandering spirit came but slowly back to her. It was on the +6th March that she had to face her accusers, to renew her former +admissions, to ruin her brethren beyond repair. She could not speak; +she was choking. The commissioners had the kindness to tell her that +the torture was there, at her side; to describe to her the wooden +horse, the points of iron, the wedges for jamming fast her bones. Her +courage failed her, so weak she was now of body. She submitted to be +set before her cruel master, who might laugh triumphant now that he +had debased not only her body, but yet more her conscience, by making +her the murderess of her own friends. + +No time was lost in profiting by her weakness. They prevailed +forthwith on the Parliament of Aix to let the Carmelite and the two +brothers be imprisoned, that they might undergo a separate trial for +their lives, as soon as Cadière should have been condemned. + +On the 10th March, she was dragged from the Ursulines of Toulon to +Sainte-Claire of Ollioules. Girard, however, was not sure of her yet. +He got leave to have her conducted, like some dreaded highway robber, +between some soldiers of the mounted police. He demanded that she +should be carefully locked up at Sainte-Claire. The ladies were moved +to tears at the sight of a poor sufferer who could not drag herself +forward, approaching between those drawn swords. Everyone pitied her. +Two brave men, M. Aubin, a solicitor, and M. Claret, a notary, drew up +for her the deeds in which she withdrew her late confession, fearful +documents that record the threats of the commissioners and of the +Ursuline prioress, and above all, the fact of the drugged wine she had +been forced to drink. + +At the same time these daring men drew up for the Chancellor’s court +at Paris a plea of error, as it is called, exposing the irregular and +blameable proceedings, the wilful breaches of the law, effected in the +coolest way, first by the bishop’s officer and the King’s Lieutenant, +secondly by the two commissioners. The Chancellor D’Aguesseau showed +himself very slack and feeble. He let these foul proceedings stand; +left the business in charge of the Parliament of Aix, sullied as it +already seemed to be by the disgrace with which two of its members had +just been covering themselves. + +So once more they laid hands on their victim, and had her dragged, in +charge as before of the mounted police, from Ollioules to Aix. In +those days people slept at a public house midway. Here the corporal +explained that, by virtue of his orders, he would sleep in the young +girl’s room. They pretended to believe that an invalid unable to walk, +might flee away by jumping out of window. Truly, it was a most +villanous device, to commit such a one to the chaste keeping of the +heroes of the _dragonnades_.[115] Happily, her mother had come to see +her start, had followed her in spite of everything, and they did not +dare to beat her away with their butt-ends. She stayed in the room, +kept watch--neither of them, indeed, lying down--and shielded her +child from all harm. + + [115] Alluding to the cruelties dealt on the Huguenots by the + French dragoons, at the close of Louis the Fourteenth’s + reign.--TRANS. + +Cadière was forwarded to the Ursulines of Aix, who had the King’s +command to take her in charge. But the prioress pretended that the +order had not yet come. We may see here how savage a woman who was +once impassioned will grow, until she has lost all her woman’s nature. +She kept the other four hours at her street-door, as if she were a +public show. There was time to fetch a mob of Jesuits’ followers, of +honest Church artizans, to hoot and hiss, while children might help by +throwing stones. For these four hours she was in the pillory. Some, +however, of the more dispassionate passers-by asked if the Ursulines +had gotten orders to let them kill the girl. We may guess what tender +jailers their sick prisoner would find in these good sisters! + +The ground was prepared with admirable effect. By a spirited concert +between Jesuit magistrates and plotting ladies, a system of deterring +had been set on foot. No pleader would ruin himself by defending a +girl thus heavily aspersed. No one would digest the poisonous things +stored up by her jailers, for him who should daily show his face in +their parlour to await an interview with Cadière. The defence in that +case would devolve on M. Chaudon, syndic of the Aix bar. He did not +decline so hard a duty. And yet he was so uneasy as to desire a +settlement, which the Jesuits refused. Thereupon he showed what he +really was, a man of unswerving honesty, of amazing courage. He +exposed, with the learning of a lawyer, the monstrous character of the +whole proceeding. So doing, he would for ever embroil himself with +the Parliament no less than the Jesuits. He brought into sharp outline +the spiritual incest of the confessor, though he modestly refrained +from specifying how far he had carried his profligacy. He also +withheld himself from speaking of Girard’s girls, the loose-lived +devotees, as a matter well-known, but to which no one would have liked +to bear witness. In short, he gave Girard the best case he could by +assailing him _as a wizard_. People laughed, made fun of the advocate. +He undertook to prove the existence of demons by a series of sacred +texts, beginning with the Gospels. This made them laugh the louder. + +The case had been cleverly disfigured by the turning of an honest +Carmelite into Cadière’s lover, and the weaver of a whole chain of +libels against Girard and the Jesuits. Thenceforth the crowd of +idlers, of giddy worldlings, scoffers and philosophers alike, made +merry with either side, being thoroughly impartial as between +Carmelite and Jesuit, and exceedingly rejoiced to see this battle of +monk with monk. Those who were presently to be called _Voltairites_, +were even better inclined towards the polished Jesuits, those men of +the world, than towards any of the old mendicant orders. + +So the matter became more and more tangled. Jokes kept raining down, +but raining mostly on the victim. They called it a love-intrigue. They +saw in it nothing but food for fun. There was not a scholar nor a +clerk who did not turn a ditty on Girard and his pupil, who did not +hash up anew the old provincial jokes about Madeline in the Gauffridi +affair, her six thousand imps, their dread of a flogging, and the +wonderful chastening-process whereby Cadière’s devils were put to +flight. + +On this latter point the friends of Girard had no difficulty in +proving him clean. He had acted by his right as director, in +accordance with the common wont. The rod is the symbol of fatherhood. +He had treated his penitent with a view to the healing of her soul. +They used to thrash demoniacs, to thrash the insane and sufferers in +other ways. This was the favourite mode of hunting out the enemy, +whether in the shape of devil or disease. With the people it was a +very common idea. One brave workman of Toulon, who had witnessed +Cadière’s sad plight, declared that a bull’s sinew was the poor +sufferer’s only cure. + +Thus strongly supported, Girard had only to act reasonably. He would +not take the trouble. His defence is charmingly flippant. He never +deigns even to agree with his own depositions. He gives the lie to his +own witnesses. He seems to be jesting, and says, with the coolness of +a great lord of the Regency, that if, as they charge him, he was ever +shut up with her, “it could only have happened nine times.” + +“And why did the good father do so,” would his friends say, “save to +watch, to consider, to search out the truth concerning her? ’Tis the +confessor’s duty in all such cases. Read the life of the most holy +Catherine of Genoa. One evening her confessor hid himself in her room, +waiting to see the wonders she would work, and to catch her in the act +miraculous. But here, unhappily, the Devil, who never sleeps, had laid +a snare for this lamb of God, had belched forth this devouring monster +of a she-dragon, this mixture of maniac and demoniac, to swallow him +up, to overwhelm him in a cataract of slander.” + +It was an old and excellent custom to smother monsters in the cradle. +Then why not later also? Girard’s ladies charitably advised the +instant using against her of fire and sword. “Let her perish!” cried +the devotees. Many of the great ladies also wished to have her +punished, deeming it rather too bad that such a creature should have +dared to enter such a plea, to bring into court the man who had done +her but too great an honour. + +Some determined Jansenists there were in the Parliament, but these +were more inimical to the Jesuits than friendly to the girl. And they +might well be downcast and discouraged, seeing they had against them +at once the terrible Society of Jesus, the Court of Versailles, the +Cardinal Minister (Fleury), and, lastly, the drawing-rooms of Aix. +Should they be bolder than the head of the law, the Chancellor +D’Aguesseau, who had proved so very slack? The Attorney-General did +not waver at all: being charged with the indictment of Girard, he +avowed himself his friend, advised him how to meet the charges +against him. + +There was, indeed, but one question at issue, to ascertain by what +kind of reparation, of solemn atonement, of exemplary chastening, the +plaintiff thus changed into the accused might satisfy Girard and the +Company of Jesus. The Jesuits, with all their good-nature, affirmed +the need of an example, in the interests of religion, by way of some +slight warning both to the Jansenist Convulsionaries and the +scribbling philosophers who were beginning to swarm. + +There were two points by which Cadière might be hooked, might receive +the stroke of the harpoon. + +Firstly, she had borne false witness. But, then, by no law could +slander be punished with death. To gain that end you must go a little +further, and say, “The old Roman text, _De famosis libellis_, +pronounces death on those who have uttered libels hurtful to the +Emperor or to _the religion_ of the Empire. The Jesuits represent that +religion. Therefore, a memorial against a Jesuit deserves the last +penalty.” + +A still better handle, however, was their second. At the opening of +the trial the episcopal judge, the prudent Larmedieu, had asked her if +she had never _divined_ the secrets of many people, and she had +answered yes. Therefore they might charge her with the practice named +in the list of forms employed in trials for witchcraft, as _Divination +and imposture_. This alone in ecclesiastic law deserved the stake. +They might, indeed, without much effort, call her a _Witch_, after +the confession made by the Ollioules ladies, that at one same hour of +the night she used to be in several cells together. Their infatuation, +the surprising tenderness that suddenly came over them, had all the +air of an enchantment. + +What was there to prevent her being burnt? They were still burning +everywhere in the eighteenth century. In one reign only, that of +Philip V., sixteen hundred people were burnt in Spain: one Witch was +burnt as late as 1782. In Germany one was burnt in 1751; in +Switzerland one also in 1781. Rome was always burning her victims, on +the sly indeed, in the dark holes and cells of the Inquisition.[116] + + [116] This fact comes to us from an adviser to the Holy + Office, still living. + +“But France, at least, is surely more humane?” She is very +inconsistent. In 1718, a Wizard is burnt at Bordeaux.[117] In 1724 and +1726, the faggots were lighted in Grève for offences which passed as +schoolboy jokes at Versailles. The guardians of the Royal child, the +Duke and Fleury, who are so indulgent to the Court, are terrible to +the town. A donkey-driver and a noble, one M. des Chauffours, are +burnt alive. The advent of the Cardinal Minister could not be +celebrated more worthily than by a moral reformation, by making a +severe example of those who corrupted the people. Nothing more timely +than to pass some terrible and solemn sentence on this infernal girl, +who made so heinous an assault on the innocent Girard! + + [117] I am not speaking of executions done by the people of + their own accord. A hundred years ago, in a village of + Provence, an old woman on being refused alms by a landowner, + said in her fury, “You will be dead to-morrow.” He was + smitten and died. The whole village, high and low, seized the + old woman, and set her on a bundle of vine-twigs. She was + burnt alive. The Parliament made a feint of inquiring, but + punished nobody.--[In 1751 an old couple of Tring, in + Hertfordshire, according to Wright, were tortured, kicked, + and beaten to death, on the plea of witchcraft, by a maddened + country mob.--TRANS.] + +Observe what was needed to wash that father clean. It was needful to +show that, even if he had done wrong and imitated Des Chauffours, he +had been the sport of some enchantment. The documents were but too +plain. By the wording of the Canon Law, and after these late decrees, +somebody ought to be burnt. Of the five magistrates on the bench, two +only would have burnt Girard. Three were against Cadière. They came to +terms. The three who formed the majority would not insist on burning +her, would forego the long, dreadful scene at the stake, would content +themselves with a simple award of death. + +In the name of these five, it was settled, pending the final assent of +Parliament, “That Cadière, having first been put to the torture in +both kinds, should afterwards be removed to Toulon, and suffer death +by hanging on the Place des Prêcheurs.” + +This was a dreadful blow. An immense revulsion of feeling at once took +place. The worldlings, the jesters ceased to laugh: they shuddered. +Their love of trifling did not lead them to slur over a result so +horrible. That a girl should be seduced, ill-used, dishonoured, +treated as a mere toy, that she should die of grief, or of frenzy, +they had regarded as right and good; with all that they had no +concern. But when it was a case of punishment, when in fancy they saw +before them the woeful victim, with rope round her neck, by the +gallows where she was about to hang, their hearts rose in revolt. From +all sides went forth the cry, “Never, since the world began, was there +seen so villanous a reversal of things; the law of rape administered +the wrong way, the girl condemned for having been made a tool, the +victim hanged by her seducer!” + +In this town of Aix, made up of judges, priests, and the world of +fashion, a thing unforeseen occurred: a whole people suddenly rose, a +violent popular movement was astir. A crowd of persons of every class +marched in one close well-ordered body straight towards the Ursulines. +Cadière and her mother were bidden to show themselves. “Make yourself +easy, mademoiselle,” they shouted: “we stand by you: fear nothing!” + +The grand eighteenth century, justly called by Hegel the “reign of +mind,” was still grander as the “reign of humanity.” Ladies of +distinction, such as the granddaughter of Mde. de Sévigné, the +charming Madame de Simiane, took possession of the young girl and +sheltered her in their bosoms. + +A thing yet prettier and more touching was it, to see the Jansenist +ladies, elsewhile so sternly pure, so hard towards each other, in +their austerities so severe, now in this great conjuncture offer up +Law on the altar of Mercy, by flinging their arms round the poor +threatened child, purifying her with kisses on the forehead, baptizing +her anew in tears. + +If Provence be naturally wild, she is all the more wonderful in these +wild moments of generosity and real greatness. Something of this was +later seen in the earliest triumphs of Mirabeau, when he had a million +of men gathered round him at Marseilles. But here already was a great +revolutionary scene, a vast uprising against the stupid Government of +the day, and Fleury’s pets the Jesuits: a unanimous uprising in behalf +of humanity, of compassion, in defence of a woman, a very child, thus +barbarously offered up. The Jesuits fancied that among their own +rabble, among their clients and their beggars, they might array a kind +of popular force, armed with handbells and staves to beat back the +party of Cadière. This latter, however, included almost everyone. +Marseilles rose up as one man to bear in triumph the son of the +Advocate Chaudon. Toulon went so far for the sake of her poor +townswoman, as to think of burning the Jesuit college. + +The most touching of all these tokens in Cadière’s favour, reached +her from Ollioules. A simple boarder, Mdlle. Agnes, for all her +youthful shyness, followed the impulse of her own heart, threw herself +into the press of pamphlets, and published a defence of Cadière. + +So widespread and deep a movement had its effect on the Parliament +itself. The foes of the Jesuits raised their heads, took courage to +defy the threats of those above, the influence of the Jesuits, and the +bolts that Fleury might hurl upon them from Versailles.[118] + + [118] There is a laughable tale which expresses the state of + Parliament with singular nicety. The Recorder was reading his + comments on the trial, on the share the Devil might have had + therein, when a loud noise was heard. A black man fell down + the chimney. In their fright they all ran away, save the + Recorder only, who, being entangled in his robe, could not + move. The man made some excuse. It was simply a chimneysweep + who had mistaken his chimney. + +The very friends of Girard, seeing their numbers fall off, their +phalanx grow thin, were eager for the sentence. It was pronounced on +the 11th October, 1731. + +In sight of the popular feeling, no one dared to follow up the savage +sentence of the bench, by getting Cadière hanged. Twelve councillors +sacrificed their honour, by declaring Girard innocent. Of the twelve +others, some Jansenists condemned him to the flames as a wizard; and +three or four, with better reason, condemned him to death as a +scoundrel. Twelve being against twelve, the President Lebret had to +give the casting vote. He found for Girard. Acquitted of the capital +crime of witchcraft, the latter was then made over, as priest and +confessor, to the Toulon magistrate, his intimate friend Larmedieu, +for trial in the bishop’s court. + +The great folk and the indifferent ones were satisfied. And so little +heed was given to this award, that even in these days it has been said +that “both were _acquitted_.” The statement is not correct. Cadière +was treated as a slanderer, was condemned to see her memorials and +other papers burnt by the hand of the executioner. + +There was still a dreadful something in the background. Cadière being +so marked, so branded for the use of calumny, the Jesuits were sure to +keep pushing underhand their success with Cardinal Fleury, and to urge +her being punished in some secret, arbitrary way. Such was the notion +imbibed by the town of Aix. It felt that, instead of sending her home, +Parliament would rather _yield her up_. This caused so fearful a rage, +such angry menaces, against President Lebret, that he asked to have +the regiment of Flanders sent thither. + +Girard was fleeing away in a close carriage, when they found him out +and would have killed him, had he not escaped into the Jesuits’ +Church. There the rascal betook himself to saying mass. After his +escape thence he returned to Dôle, to reap honour and glory from the +Society. Here, in 1733, he died, _in the perfume of holiness_. The +courtier Lebret died in 1735. + +Cardinal Fleury did whatever the Jesuits pleased. At Aix, Toulon, +Marseilles, many were banished, or cast into prison. Toulon was +specially guilty, as having borne Girard’s effigy to the doors of his +_Girardites_, and carried about the thrice holy standard of the +Jesuits. + +According to the terms of the award, Cadière should have been free to +return home, to live again with her mother. But I venture to say that +she was never allowed to re-enter her native town, that flaming +theatre wherein so many voices had been raised in her behalf. + +If only to feel an interest in her was a crime deserving imprisonment, +we cannot doubt but that she herself was presently thrown into prison; +that the Jesuits easily obtained a special warrant from Versailles to +lock up the poor girl, to hush up, to bury with her an affair so +dismal for themselves. They would wait, of course, until the public +attention was drawn off to something else. Thereon the fatal clutch +would have caught her anew; she would have been buried out of sight in +some unknown convent, snuffed out in some dark _In pace_. + +She was but one-and-twenty at the time of the award, and she had +always hoped to die soon. May God have granted her that mercy![119] + + [119] Touching this matter, Voltaire is very flippant: he + scoffs at both parties, especially the Jansenists. The + historians of our own day, MM. Cabasse, Fabre, Méry, not + having read the _Trial_, believe themselves impartial, while + they are bearing down the victim. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + +A woman of genius, in a burst of noble tenderness, has figured to +herself the two spirits whose strife moulded the Middle Ages, as +coming at last to recognise each other, to draw together, to renew +their olden friendship. Looking closer at each other, they discern, +though somewhat late, the marks of a common parentage. How if they +were indeed brethren, and this long battle nought but a mistake? Their +hearts speak, and they are softened. The haughty outlaw and the gentle +persecutor have forgotten everything: they dart forward and throw +themselves into each other’s arms.--(_Consuelo._) + +A charming, womanly idea. Others, too, have dreamed the same dream. +The sweet Montanelli turned it into a beautiful poem. Ay, who would +not welcome the delightful hope of seeing the battle here hushed down +and finished by an embrace so moving? + +What does the wise Merlin think of it? In the mirror of his lake, +whose depths are known to himself only, what did he behold? What said +he in the colossal epic produced by him in 1860? Why, that Satan will +not disarm, if disarm he ever do, until the Day of Judgment. Then, +side by side, at peace with each other, the two will fall asleep in a +common death. + + * * * * * + +It is not so hard, indeed, to bend them into a kind of compromise. The +weakening, relaxing effects of so long a battle allow of their +mingling in a certain way. In the last chapter we saw two shadows +agreeing to form an alliance in deceit; the Devil appearing as the +friend of Loyola, devotees and demoniacs marching abreast, Hell +touched to softness in the Sacred Heart. + +It is a quiet time now, and people hate each other less than formerly. +They hate few indeed but their own friends. I have seen Methodists +admiring Jesuits. Those lawyers and physicians whom the Church in the +Middle Ages called the children of Satan, I have seen making shrewd +covenant with the old conquered Spirit. + +But get we away from these pretences. They who gravely propose that +Satan should make peace and settle down, have they thought much about +the matter? + +There is no hindrance as regards ill-will. The dead are dead. The +millions of former victims sleep in peace, be they Albigenses, +Vaudois, or Protestants, Moors, Jews, or American Indians. The Witch, +universal martyr of the Middle Ages, has nought to say. Her ashes have +been scattered to the winds. + +Know you, then, what it is that raises a protest, that keeps these two +spirits steadily apart, preventing them from coming nearer? It is a +huge reality, born five hundred years ago; a gigantic creation +accursed by the Church, even that mighty fabric of science and modern +institutions, which she excommunicated stone by stone, but which with +every anathema has grown a storey higher. You cannot name one science +which has not been itself a rebellion. + +There is but one way of reconciling the two spirits, of joining into +one the two churches. Demolish the younger, that one which from its +first beginning was pronounced guilty and doomed as such. Let us, if +we can, destroy the natural sciences, the observatory, the museum, the +botanical garden, the schools of medicine, and all the modern +libraries. Let us burn our laws, our bodies of statutes, and return to +the Canon Law. + +All these novelties came of Satan. Each step forward has been a crime +of his doing. + +He was the wicked logician who, despising the clerical law, preserved +and renewed that of jurists and philosophers, grounded on an impious +faith, on the freedom of the will. + +He was that dangerous magician who, while men were discussing the sex +of angels and other questions of like sublimity, threw himself +fiercely on realities, and created chemistry, physics, mathematics--ay, +even mathematics. He sought to revive them, and that was rebellion. +People were burnt for saying that three made three. + +Medicine especially was a Satanic thing, a rebellion against disease, +the scourge so justly dealt by God. It was clearly sinful to check the +soul on its way towards heaven, to plunge it afresh into life! + +What atonement shall we make for all this? How are we to put down, to +overthrow, this pile of insurrections, whereof at this moment all +modern life is made up? Will Satan destroy his work, that he may tread +once more the way of angels? That work rests on three everlasting +rocks, Reason, Right, and Nature. + + * * * * * + +So great is the triumph of the new spirit, that he forgets his +battles, hardly at this moment deigns to remember that he has won. + +It were not amiss to remind him of his wretched beginnings, how +coarsely mean, how rude and painfully comic were the shapes he wore in +the season of persecution, when through a woman, even the unhappy +Witch, he made his first homely flights in science. Bolder than the +heretic, the half-Christian reasoner, the scholar who kept one foot +within the sacred circle, this woman eagerly escaped therefrom, and +under the open sunlight tried to make herself an altar of rough +moorland stones. + +She has perished, as she was certain to perish. By what means? Chiefly +by the progress of those very sciences which began with her, through +the physician, the naturalist, for whom she had once toiled. + +The Witch has perished for ever, but not the Fay. She will reappear in +the form that never dies. + +Busied in these latter days with the affairs of men, Woman has in +return given up her rightful part, that of the physician, the +comforter, the healing Fairy. Herein lies her proper priesthood--a +priesthood that does belong to her, whatever the Church may say. + +Her delicate organs, her fondness for the least detail, her tender +consciousness of life, all invite her to become Life’s shrewd +interpreter in every science of observation. With her tenderly pitiful +heart, her power of divining goodness, she goes of her own accord to +the work of doctoring. There is but small difference between children +and sick people. For both of them we need the Woman. + +She will return into the paths of science, whither, as a smile of +nature, gentleness and humanity will enter by her side. + +The Anti-natural is growing dim, nor is the day far off when its +eclipse will bring back daylight to the earth. + + * * * * * + +The gods may vanish, but God is still there. Nay, but the less we see +of them, the more manifest is He. He is like a lighthouse eclipsed at +moments, but alway shining again more clearly than before. + +It is a remarkable thing to see Him discussed so fully, even in the +journals themselves. People begin to feel that all questions of +education, government, childhood, and womanhood, turn on that one +ruling and underlying question. As God is, so must the world be. + +From this we gather that the times are ripe. + + * * * * * + +So near, indeed, is that religious dayspring that I seemed momently to +see it breaking over the desert where I brought this book to an end. + +How full of light, how rough and beautiful looked this desert of mine! +I had made my nest on a rock in the mighty roadstead of Toulon, in a +lowly villa surrounded with aloe and cypress, with the prickly pear +and the wild rose. Before me was a spreading basin of sparkling sea; +behind me the bare-topt amphitheatre, where, at their ease, might sit +the Parliament of the world. + +This spot, so very African, bedazzles you in the daytime with +flashings as of steel. But of a winter morning, especially in +December, it seemed full of a divine mystery. I was wont to rise +exactly at six o’clock, when the signal for work was boomed from the +Arsenal gun. From six to seven I enjoyed a delicious time of it. The +quick--may I call it piercing?--twinkle of the stars made the moon +ashamed, and fought against the daybreak. Before its coming, and +during the struggle between two lights, the wonderful clearness of the +air would let things be seen and heard at incredible distances. Two +leagues away I could make everything out. The smallest detail about +the distant mountains, a tree, a cliff, a house, a bend in the ground, +was thrown out with the most delicate sharpness. New senses seemed to +be given me. I found myself another being, released from bondage, free +to soar away on my new wings. It was an hour of utter purity, all hard +and clear. I said to myself, “How is this? Am I still a man?” + +An unspeakable bluish hue, respected, left untouched by the rosy dawn, +hung round me like a sacred ether, a spirit that made all things +spiritual. + +One felt, however, a forward movement, through changes soft and slow. +The great marvel was drawing nearer, to shine forth and eclipse all +other things. It came on in its own calm way: you felt no wish to +hurry it. The coming transfiguration, the expected witcheries of the +light, took not a whit away from the deep enjoyment of being still +under the divinity of night, still, as it were, half-hidden, and slow +to emerge from so wonderful a spell.... Come forth, O Sun! We worship +thee while yet unseen, but will reap all of good we yet may from these +last moments of our dream! + +He is about to break forth. In hope let us await his welcome. + + +THE END. + + + + +LIST OF LEADING AUTHORITIES. + + +Graesse, _Bibliotheca Magiæ_, Leipsic, 1843. + +_Magie Antique_--as edited by Soldan, A. Maury, &c. + +Calcagnini, _Miscell., Magia Amatoria Antiqua_, 1544. + +J. Grimm, _German Mythology_. + +_Acta Sanctorum._--Acta SS. Ordinis S. Benedicti. + +Michael Psellus, _Energie des Démons_, 1050. + +Cæsar of Heisterbach, _Illustria Miracula_, 1220. + +_Registers of the Inquisition_, 1307-1326, in Limburch; and the +extracts given by Magi, Llorente, Lamothe-Langon, &c. + +_Directorium._ Eymerici, 1358. + +Llorente, _The Spanish Inquisition_. + +Lamothe-Langon, _Inquisition de France_. + +_Handbooks of the Monk-Inquisitors of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth +Centuries_: Nider’s _Formicarius_; Sprenger’s _Malleus_. + +C. Bernardus’s _Lucerna_; Spina, Grillandus, &c. + +H. Corn. Agrippæ _Opera_, Lyons. + +Paracelsi _Opera_. + +Wyer, _De Prestigiis Dæmonum_, 1569. + +Bodin, _Démonomanie_, 1580. + +Remigius, _Demonolatria_, 1596. + +Del Rio, _Disquisitiones Magicæ_, 1599. + +Boguet, _Discours des Sorciers_, Lyons, 1605. + +Leloyer, _Histoire des Spectres_, Paris, 1605. + +Lancre, _Inconstance_, 1612: _Incredulité_, 1622. + +Michaëlis, _Histoire d’une Pénitente, &c._, 1613. + +Tranquille, _Relation de Loudun_, 1634. + +_Histoire des Diables de Loudun_ (by Aubin), 1716. + +_Histoire de Madeleine Bavent_, de Louviers, 1652. + +_Examen de Louviers. Apologie de l’Examen_ (by Yvelin), 1643. + +_Procès du P. Girard et de la Cadière_; Aix, 1833. + +_Pièces relatives à ce Procès_; 5 vols., Aix, 1833. + +_Factum, Chansons, relatifs, &c._ MSS. in the Toulon Library. + +Eugène Salverte, _Sciences Occultes_, with Introduction by Littré. + +A. Maury, _Les Fées_, 1843; _Magie_, 1860. + +Soldan, _Histoire des Procès de Sorcellerie_, 1843. + +Thos. Wright, _Narratives of Sorcery, &c._, 1851. + +L. Figuier, _Histoire du Merveilleux_, 4 vols. + +Ferdinand Denis, _Sciences Occultes: Monde Enchanté_. + +_Histoire des Sciences au Moyen Age_, by Sprenger, Pouchet, Cuvier, &c. + + +Printed by Woodfall and Kinder, Angel Court, Skinner Street, London. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of La Sorcière: The Witch of the Middl + Ages, by Jules Michelet + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA SORCIÈRE *** + +***** This file should be named 31420-0.txt or 31420-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/4/2/31420/ + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: La Sorcire: The Witch of the Middle Ages + +Author: Jules Michelet + +Translator: Lionel James Trotter + +Release Date: February 27, 2010 [EBook #31420] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA SORCIRE *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + +LA SORCIRE. + +J. MICHELET. + +LONDON: +PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER, +ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET. + + + + +THE WITCH OF THE MIDDLE AGES. + +FROM THE FRENCH OF J. MICHELET. + +BY L. J. TROTTER. + + +(_The only Authorized English Translation._) + + +LONDON: +SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO., +STATIONERS' HALL COURT. +MDCCCLXIII. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +In this translation of a work rich in the raciest beauties and defects +of an author long since made known to the British public, the present +writer has striven to recast the trenchant humour, the scornful +eloquence, the epigrammatic dash of Mr. Michelet, in language not all +unworthy of such a word-master. How far he has succeeded others may be +left to judge. In one point only is he aware of having been less true +to his original than in theory he was bound to be. He has slurred or +slightly altered a few of those passages which French readers take as +a thing of course, but English ones, because of their different +training, are supposed to eschew. A Frenchman, in short, writes for +men, an Englishman rather for drawing-room ladies, who tolerate +grossness only in the theatres and the columns of the newspapers. Mr. +Michelet's subject, and his late researches, lead him into details, +moral and physical, which among ourselves are seldom mixed up with +themes of general talk. The coarsest of these have been pruned away, +but enough perhaps remain to startle readers of especial prudery. The +translator, however, felt that he had no choice between shocking +these and sinning against his original. Readers of a larger culture +will make allowance for such a strait, will not be so very frightened +at an amount of plain-speaking, neither in itself immoral, nor, on the +whole, impertinent. Had he docked his work of everything condemned by +prudish theories, he might have made it more conventionally decent; +but Michelet would have been puzzled to recognize himself in the poor +maimed cripple that would then have borne his name. + +Nor will a reader of average shrewdness mistake the religious drift of +a book suppressed by the Imperial underlings in the interests neither +of religion nor of morals, but merely of Popery in its most outrageous +form. If its attacks on Rome seem, now and then, to involve +Christianity itself, we must allow something for excess of warmth, and +something for the nature of inquiries which laid bare the rotten +outgrowths of a religion in itself the purest known among men. In +studying the so-called Ages of Faith, the author has only found them +worthy of their truer and older title, the Ages of Darkness. It is +against the tyranny, feudal and priestly, of those days, that he +raises an outcry, warranted almost always by facts which a more +mawkish philosophy refuses to see. If he is sometimes hasty and +onesided; if the Church and the Feudal System of those days had their +uses for the time being; it is still a gain to have the other side of +the subject kept before us by way of counterpoise to the doctrines +now in vogue. We need not be intolerant; but Rome is yet alive. + +Taken as a whole, Mr. Michelet's book cannot be called unchristian. +Like most thoughtful minds of the day, he yearns for some nobler and +larger creed than that of the theologians; for a creed which, +understanding Nature, shall reconcile it with Nature's God. Nor may he +fairly be called irreverent for talking, Frenchman like, of things +spiritual with the same freedom as he would of things temporal. +Perhaps in his heart of hearts he has nearly as much religious +earnestness as they who call Dr. Colenso an infidel, and shake their +heads at the doubtful theology of Frederic Robertson. At any rate, no +translator who should cut or file away so special a feature of French +feeling would be doing justice to so marked an original. + +For English readers who already know the concise and sober volumes of +their countryman, Mr. Wright, the present work will offer mainly an +interesting study of the author himself. It is a curious compound of +rhapsody and sound reason, of history and romance, of coarse realism +and touching poetry, such as, even in France, few save Mr. Michelet +could have produced. Founded on truth and close inquiry, it still +reads more like a poem than a sober history. As a beautiful +speculation, which has nearly, but not quite, grasped the physical +causes underlying the whole history of magic and illusion in all ages, +it may be read with profit as well as pleasure in this age of vulgar +spirit-rapping. But the true history of Witchcraft has yet to be +written by some cooler hand. + + L. T. + + _May 11th, 1863._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + +INTRODUCTION 1 + To One Wizard Ten Thousand Witches 1 + The Witch was the sole Physician of the People 4 + Terrorism of the Middle Ages 5 + The Witch was the Offspring of Despair 9 + She in her Turn created Satan 12 + Satan, Prince of the World, Physician, Innovator 13 + His School--of Witches, Shepherds, and Headsmen 15 + His Decline 16 + + +BOOK I. + +CHAPTER I.--THE DEATH OF THE GODS 19 + Christianity thought the World was Dying 20 + The World of Demons 24 + The Bride of Corinth 26 + +CHAPTER II.--WHY THE MIDDLE AGES FELL INTO DESPAIR 30 + The People make their own Legends 31 + But are forbidden to do so any more 35 + The People guard their Territory 38 + But are made Serfs 40 + +CHAPTER III.--THE LITTLE DEVIL OF THE FIRESIDE 43 + Ancient Communism of the _Villa_ 43 + The Hearth made independent 44 + The Wife of the Serf 45 + Her Loyalty to the Olden Gods 46 + The Goblin 53 + +CHAPTER IV.--TEMPTATIONS 57 + The Serf invokes the Spirit of Hidden Treasures 58 + Feudal Raids 59 + The Wife turns her Goblin into a Devil 66 + +CHAPTER V.--POSSESSION 69 + The Advent of Gold in 1300 69 + The Woman makes Terms with the Demon of Gold 71 + Impure Horrors of the Middle Ages 75 + The Village Lady 78 + Hatred of the Lady of the Castle 84 + +CHAPTER VI.--THE COVENANT 88 + The Woman-serf gives Herself up to the Devil 90 + The Moor and the Witch 93 + +CHAPTER VII.--THE KING OF THE DEAD 96 + The dear Dead are brought back to Earth 97 + The Idea of Satan is softened 103 + +CHAPTER VIII.--THE PRINCE OF NATURE 106 + The Thaw in the Middle Ages 108 + The Witch calls forth the East 109 + She conceives Nature 112 + +CHAPTER IX.--THE DEVIL A PHYSICIAN 116 + Diseases of the Middle Ages 116 + The _Comforters_, or Solane 121 + The Middle Ages anti-natural 128 + +CHAPTER X.--CHARMS AND PHILTRES 131 + Blue-Beard and Griselda 133 + The Witch consulted by the Castle 137 + Her Malice 141 + +CHAPTER XI.--THE REBELS' COMMUNION--SABBATHS--THE BLACK MASS 143 + The old Half-heathen Sabasies 144 + The Four Acts of the Black Mass 150 + Act I. The Introit, the Kiss, the Banquet 151 + Act II. The Offering: the Woman as Altar and Host 153 + +CHAPTER XII.--THE SEQUEL--LOVE AND DEATH--SATAN DISAPPEARS 157 + Act III. Love of near Kindred 158 + Act IV. Death of Satan and the Witch 165 + + +BOOK II. + +CHAPTER I.--THE WITCH IN HER DECLINE--SATAN MULTIPLIED AND MADE + COMMON 168 + Witches and Wizards employed by the Great 172 + The Wolf-lady 174 + The last Philtre 179 + +CHAPTER II.--PERSECUTIONS 180 + The Hammer for Witches 181 + Satan Master of the World 193 + +CHAPTER III.--CENTURY OF TOLERATION IN FRANCE: REACTION 198 + Spain begins when France stops short 199 + Reaction: French Lawyers burn as many as the Priests 203 + +CHAPTER IV.--THE WITCHES OF THE BASQUE COUNTRY 207 + They give Instructions to their own Judges 212 + +CHAPTER V.--SATAN TURNS PRIEST 218 + Jokes of the Modern Sabbath 221 + +CHAPTER VI.--GAUFFRIDI: 1610 228 + Wizard Priests prosecuted by Monks 232 + Jealousies of the Nuns 234 + +CHAPTER VII.--THE DEMONIACS OF LOUDUN: URBAN GRANDIER 255 + The Vicar a fine Speaker, and a Wizard 263 + Sickly Rages of the Nuns 264 + +CHAPTER VIII.--THE DEMONIACS OF LOUVIERS--MADELINE BAVENT 277 + Illuminism: the Devil a Quietist 277 + Fight between the Devil and the Doctor 285 + +CHAPTER IX.--THE DEVIL TRIUMPHS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 294 + +CHAPTER X.--FATHER GIRARD AND LA CADIRE 303 + +CHAPTER XI.--CADIRE IN THE CONVENT 339 + +CHAPTER XII.--TRIAL OF CADIRE 367 + +EPILOGUE 395 + Can Satan and Jesus be reconciled? 396 + The Witch is dead, but the Fairy will live again 399 + Oncoming of the Religious Revival 399 + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +It was said by Sprenger, before the year 1500, "_Heresy of witches_, +not of wizards, must we call it, for these latter are of very small +account." And by another, in the time of Louis XIII.: "To one wizard, +ten thousand witches." + +"Witches they are by nature." It is a gift peculiar to woman and her +temperament. By birth a fay, by the regular recurrence of her ecstasy +she becomes a sibyl. By her love she grows into an enchantress. By her +subtlety, by a roguishness often whimsical and beneficent, she becomes +a Witch; she works her spells; does at any rate lull our pains to rest +and beguile them. + +All primitive races have the same beginning, as so many books of +travel have shown. While the man is hunting and fighting, the woman +works with her wits, with her imagination: she brings forth dreams and +gods. On certain days she becomes a seeress, borne on boundless wings +of reverie and desire. The better to reckon up the seasons, she +watches the sky; but her heart belongs to earth none the less. Young +and flower-like herself, she looks down toward the enamoured flowers, +and forms with them a personal acquaintance. As a woman, she beseeches +them to heal the objects of her love. + +In a way so simple and touching do all religion and all science begin. +Ere long everything will get parcelled out; we shall mark the +beginning of the professional man as juggler, astrologer, or prophet, +necromancer, priest, physician. But at first the woman is everything. + +A religion so strong and hearty as that of Pagan Greece begins with +the Sibyl to end in the Witch. The former, a lovely maiden in the +broad daylight, rocked its cradle, endowed it with a charm and glory +of its own. Presently it fell sick, lost itself in the darkness of the +Middle Ages, and was hidden away by the Witch in woods and wilds: +there, sustained by her compassionate daring, it was made to live +anew. Thus, of every religion woman is the mother, the gentle +guardian, the faithful nurse. With her the gods fare like men: they +are born and die upon her bosom. + + * * * * * + +Alas! her loyalty costs her dear. Ye magian queens of Persia; +bewitching Circe; sublime Sibyl! Into what have ye grown, and how +cruel the change that has come upon you! She who from her throne in +the East taught men the virtues of plants and the courses of the +stars; who, on her Delphic tripod beamed over with the god of light, +as she gave forth her oracle to a world upon its knees;--she also it +is whom, a thousand years later, people hunt down like a wild beast; +following her into the public places, where she is dishonoured, +worried, stoned, or set upon the burning coals! + +For this poor wretch the priesthood can never have done with their +faggots, nor the people with their insults, nor the children with +their stones. The poet, childlike, flings her one more stone, for a +woman the cruellest of all. On no grounds whatever, he imagines her to +have been always old and ugly. The word "witch" brings before us the +frightful old women of _Macbeth_. But their cruel processes teach us +the reverse of that. Numbers perished precisely for being young and +beautiful. + +The Sibyl foretold a fortune, the Witch accomplishes one. Here is the +great, the true difference between them. The latter calls forth a +destiny, conjures it, works it out. Unlike the Cassandra of old, who +awaited mournfully the future she foresaw so well, this woman herself +creates the future. Even more than Circe, than Medea, does she bear in +her hand the rod of natural miracle, with Nature herself as sister and +helpmate. Already she wears the features of a modern Prometheus. With +her industry begins, especially that queen-like industry which heals +and restores mankind. As the Sibyl seemed to gaze upon the morning, so +she, contrariwise, looks towards the west; but it is just that gloomy +west, which long before dawn--as happens among the tops of the +Alps--gives forth a flush anticipant of day. + +Well does the priest discern the danger, the bane, the alarming +rivalry, involved in this priestess of nature whom he makes a show of +despising. From the gods of yore she has conceived other gods. Close +to the Satan of the Past we see dawning within her a Satan of the +Future. + + * * * * * + +The only physician of the people for a thousand years was the Witch. +The emperors, kings, popes, and richer barons had indeed their doctors +of Salerno, their Moors and Jews; but the bulk of people in every +state, the world as it might well be called, consulted none but the +_Saga_, or wise-woman. When she could not cure them, she was insulted, +was called a Witch. But generally, from a respect not unmixed with +fear, she was called good lady or fair lady (_belle dame_--_bella +donna_[1]), the very name we give to the fairies. + + [1] Whence our old word _Beldam_, the more courteous meaning + of which is all but lost in its ironical one.--TRANS. + +Soon there came upon her the lot which still befalls her favourite +plant, belladonna, and some other wholesome poisons which she employed +as antidotes to the great plagues of the Middle Ages. Children and +ignorant passers-by would curse those dismal flowers before they knew +them. Affrighted by their questionable hues, they shrink back, keep +far aloof from them. And yet among them are the _comforters_ +(Solane) which, when discreetly employed, have cured so many, have +lulled so many sufferings to sleep. + +You find them in ill-looking spots, growing all lonely and ill-famed +amidst ruins and rubbish-heaps. Therein lies one other point of +resemblance between these flowers and her who makes use of them. For +where else than in waste wildernesses could live the poor wretch whom +all men thus evilly entreated; the woman accursed and proscribed as a +poisoner, even while she used to heal and save; as the betrothed of +the Devil and of evil incarnate, for all the good which, according to +the great physician of the Renaissance, she herself had done? When +Paracelsus, at Basle, in 1527, threw all medicine into the fire,[2] he +avowed that he knew nothing but what he had learnt from witches. + + [2] Alluding to the bonfire which Paracelsus, as professor of + medicine, made of the works of Galen and Avicenna.--TRANS. + +This was worth a requital, and they got it. They were repaid with +tortures, with the stake. For them new punishments, new pangs, were +expressly devised. They were tried in a lump; they were condemned by a +single word. Never had there been such wastefulness of human life. Not +to speak of Spain, that classic land of the faggot, where Moor and Jew +are always accompanied by the Witch, there were burnt at Trves seven +thousand, and I know not how many at Toulouse; five hundred at Geneva +in three months of 1513; at Wurtzburg eight hundred, almost in one +batch, and fifteen hundred at Bamberg; these two latter being very +small bishoprics! Even Ferdinand II., the savage Emperor of the Thirty +Years' War, was driven, bigot as he was, to keep a watch on these +worthy bishops, else they would have burned all their subjects. In the +Wurtzburg list I find one Wizard a schoolboy, eleven years old; a +Witch of fifteen: and at Bayonne two, infernally beautiful, of +seventeen years. + +Mark how, at certain seasons, hatred wields this one word _Witch_, as +a means of murdering whom she will. Woman's jealousy, man's greed, +take ready hold of so handy a weapon. Is such a one wealthy? _She is a +Witch._ Is that girl pretty? _She is a Witch._ You will even see the +little beggar-woman, La Murgui, leave a death-mark with that fearful +stone on the forehead of a great lady, the too beautiful dame of +Lancinena. + +The accused, when they can, avert the torture by killing themselves. +Remy, that excellent judge of Lorraine, who burned some eight hundred +of them, crows over this very fear. "So well," said he, "does my way +of justice answer, that of those who were arrested the other day, +sixteen, without further waiting, strangled themselves forthwith." + + * * * * * + +Over the long track of my History, during the thirty years which I +have devoted to it, this frightful literature of witchcraft passed to +and fro repeatedly through my hands. First I exhausted the manuals of +the Inquisition, the asinine foolings of the Dominicans. (_Scourges_, +_Hammers_, _Ant-hills_, _Floggings_, _Lanterns_, &c., are the titles +of their books.) Next, I read the Parliamentarists, the lay judges who +despised the monks they succeeded, but were every whit as foolish +themselves. One word further would I say of them here: namely, this +single remark, that, from 1300 to 1600, and yet later, but one kind of +justice may be seen. Barring a small interlude in the Parliament of +Paris, the same stupid savagery prevails everywhere, at all hours. +Even great parts are of no use here. As soon as witchcraft comes into +question, the fine-natured De Lancre, a Bordeaux magistrate and +forward politician under Henry IV., sinks back to the level of a +Nider, a Sprenger; of the monkish ninnies of the fifteenth century. + +It fills one with amazement to see these different ages, these men of +diverse culture, fail in taking the least step forward. Soon, however, +you begin clearly to understand how all were checked alike, or let us +rather say blinded, made hopelessly drunk and savage, by the poison of +their guiding principle. That principle lies in the statement of a +radical injustice: "On account of one man all are lost; are not only +punished but worthy of punishment; _depraved and perverted +beforehand_, dead to God even before their birth. The very babe at the +breast is damned." + +Who says so? Everyone, even Bossuet himself. A leading doctor in Rome, +Spina, a Master of the Holy Palace, formulates the question neatly: +"Why does God suffer the innocent to die?--For very good reasons: +even if they do not die on account of their own sins, they are always +liable to death as guilty of the original sin." (_De Strigibus_, ch. +9.) + +From this atrocity spring two results, the one pertaining to justice, +the other to logic. The judge is never at fault in his work: the +person brought before him is certainly guilty, the more so if he makes +a defence. Justice need never beat her head, or work herself into a +heat, in order to distinguish the truth from the falsehood. Everyhow +she starts from a foregone conclusion. Again, the logician, the +schoolman, has only to analyse the soul, to take count of the shades +it passes through, of its manifold nature, its inward strifes and +battles. He had no need, as we have, to explain how that soul may grow +wicked step by step. At all such niceties and groping efforts, how, if +even he could understand them, would he laugh and wag his head! And, +oh! how gracefully then would quiver those splendid ears which deck +his empty skull! + +Especially in treating of the _compact with the Devil_, that awful +covenant whereby, for the poor profit of one day, the spirit sells +itself to everlasting torture, we of another school would seek to +trace anew that road accursed, that frightful staircase of mishaps and +crimes, which had brought it to a depth so low. Much, however, cares +our fine fellow for all that! To him soul and Devil seem born for each +other, insomuch that on the first temptation, for a whim, a desire, a +passing fancy, the soul will throw itself at one stroke into so +horrible an extremity. + + * * * * * + +Neither do I find that the moderns have made much inquiry into the +moral chronology of witchcraft. They cling too much to the connection +between antiquity and the Middle Ages; connection real indeed, but +slight, of small importance. Neither from the magician of old, nor the +seeress of Celts and Germans, comes forth the true Witch. The harmless +"Sabasies" (from Bacchus Sabasius), and the petty rural "Sabbath" of +the Middle Ages, have nothing to do with the Black Mass of the +fourteenth century, with the grand defiance then solemnly given to +Jesus. This fearful conception never grew out of a long chain of +tradition. It leapt forth from the horrors of the day. + +At what date, then, did the Witch first appear? I say unfalteringly, +"In the age of despair:" of that deep despair which the gentry of the +Church engendered. Unfalteringly do I say, "The Witch is a crime of +their own achieving." + +I am not to be taken up short by the excuses which their sugary +explanations seem to furnish. "Weak was that creature, and giddy, and +pliable under temptation. She was drawn towards evil by her lust." +Alas! in the wretchedness, the hunger of those days, nothing of that +kind could have ruffled her even into a hellish rage. An amorous +woman, jealous and forsaken, a child hunted out by her step-mother, a +mother beaten by her son (old subjects these of story), if such as +they were ever tempted to call upon the Evil Spirit, yet all this +would make no Witch. These poor creatures may have called on Satan, +but it does not follow that he accepted them. They are still far, ay, +very far from being ripe for him. They have not yet learned to hate +God. + + * * * * * + +For the better understanding of this point, you should read those +hateful registers which remain to us of the Inquisition, not only in +the extracts given by Llorente, by Lamothe-Langon, &c., but in what +remains of the original registers of Toulouse. Read them in all their +flatness, in all their dryness, so dismal, so terribly savage. At the +end of a few pages you feel yourself stricken with a chill; a cruel +shiver fastens upon you; death, death, death, is traceable in every +line. Already you are in a bier, or else in a stone cell with mouldy +walls. Happiest of all are the killed. The horror of horrors is the +_In pace_. This phrase it is which comes back unceasingly, like an +ill-omened bell sounding again and again the heart's ruin of the +living dead: always we have the same word, "Immured." + +Frightful machinery for crushing and flattening; most cruel press for +shattering the soul! One turn of the screw follows another, until, all +breathless, and with a loud crack, it has burst forth from the machine +and fallen into the unknown world. + +On her first appearance the Witch has neither father nor mother, nor +son, nor husband, nor family. She is a marvel, an aerolith, alighted +no one knows whence. Who, in Heaven's name, would dare to draw near +her? + +Her place of abode? It is in spots impracticable, in a forest of +brambles, on a wild moor where thorn and thistle intertwining forbid +approach. The night she passes under an old cromlech. If anyone finds +her there, she is isolated by the common dread; she is surrounded, as +it were, by a ring of fire. + +And yet--would you believe it?--she is a woman still. This very life +of hers, dreadful though it be, tightens and braces her woman's +energy, her womanly electricity. Hence, you may see her endowed with +two gifts. One is the _inspiration of lucid frenzy_, which in its +several degrees, becomes poesy, second-sight, depth of insight, +cunning simplicity of speech, the power especially of believing in +yourself through all your delusions. Of such a gift the man, the +wizard, knows nothing. On his side no beginning would have been made. + +From this gift flows that other, the sublime power of _unaided +conception_, that parthenogenesis which our physiologists have come to +recognise, as touching fruitfulness of the body in the females of +several species; and which is not less a truth with regard to the +conceptions of the spirit. + + * * * * * + +By herself did she conceive and bring forth--what? A second self, who +resembles her in his self-delusions. The son of her hatred, conceived +upon her love; for without love can nothing be created. For all the +alarm this child gave her, she has become so well again, is so happily +engrossed with this new idol, that she places it straightway upon her +altar, to worship it, yield her life up to it, and offer herself up as +a living and perfect sacrifice. Very often she will even say to her +judge, "There is but one thing I fear; that I shall not suffer enough +for him."--(_Lancre._) + +Shall I tell you what the child's first effort was? It was a fearful +burst of laughter. Has he not cause for mirth on his broad prairie, +far away from the Spanish dungeons and the "immured" of Toulouse? The +whole world is his _In pace_. He comes, and goes, and walks to and +fro. His is the boundless forest, his the desert with its far +horizons, his the whole earth, in the fulness of its teeming girdle. +The Witch in her tenderness calls him "_Robin mine_," the name of that +bold outlaw, the joyous Robin Hood, who lived under the green bowers. +She delights too in calling him fondly by such names as _Little +Green_, _Pretty-Wood_, _Greenwood_; after the little madcap's +favourite haunts. He had hardly seen a thicket when he took to playing +the truant.[3] + + [3] Here, as in some other passages, the play of words in the + original is necessarily lost.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +What astounds one most is, that at one stroke the Witch should have +achieved an actual Being. He bears about him every token of reality. +We have heard and seen him; anyone could draw his likeness. + +The Saints, those darling sons of the house, with their dreams and +meditations make but little stir; _they look forward waitingly_, as +men assured of their part in Elysium. What little energy they have is +all centred in the narrow round of _Imitation_; a word which condenses +the whole of the Middle Ages. He on the other hand--this accursed +bastard whose only lot is the scourge--has no idea of waiting. He is +always seeking and will never rest. He busies himself with all things +between earth and heaven. He is exceedingly curious; will dig, dive, +ferret, and poke his nose everywhere. At the _consummatum est_ he only +laughs, the little scoffer! He is always saying "Further," or +"Forward." Moreover, he is not hard to please. He takes every rebuff; +picks up every windfall. For instance, when the Church throws out +nature as impure and doubtworthy, Satan fastens on her for his own +adornment. Nay, more; he employs her, and makes her useful to him as +the fountain-head of the arts; thus accepting the awful name with +which others would brand him; to wit, the _Prince of the World_. + +Some one rashly said, "Woe to those who laugh." Thus from the first +was Satan intrusted with too pretty a part; he had the sole right of +laughing, and of declaring it an _amusement_--rather let us say _a +necessity_; for laughing is essentially a natural function. Life +would be unbearable if we could not laugh, at least in our +afflictions. + +Looking on life as nothing but a trial, the Church is careful not to +prolong it. Her medicine is resignation, the looking for and the hope +of death. A broad field this for Satan! He becomes the physician, the +healer of the living. Better still, he acts as comforter: he is good +enough to shew us our dead, to call up the shades of our beloved. + +One more trifle the Church rejected, namely, logic or free reason. +Here was a special dainty, to which _the other_ greedily helped +himself. The Church had carefully builded up a small _In pace_, +narrow, low-roofed, lighted by one dim opening, a mere cranny. That +was called _The School_. Into it were turned loose a few shavelings, +with this commandment, "Be free." They all fell lame. In three or four +centuries the paralysis was confirmed, and Ockham's standpoint is the +very same as Ablard's.[4] + + [4] Ablard flourished in the twelfth, William of Ockham + (pupil of Duns Scotus) in the fourteenth century.--TRANS. + +It is pleasant to track the Renaissance up to such a point. The +Renaissance took place indeed, but how? Through the Satanic daring of +those who pierced the vault, through the efforts of the damned who +were bent on seeing the sky. And it took place yet more largely away +from the schools and the men of letters, in the _School of the Bush_, +where Satan had set up a class for the Witch and the shepherd. + +Perilous teaching it was, if so it happened; but the very dangers of +it heightened the eager passion, the uncontrollable yearning to see +and to know. Thus began those wicked sciences, physic debarred from +poisoning, and that odious anatomy. There, along with his survey of +the heavens, the shepherd who kept watch upon the stars applied also +his shameful nostrums, made his essays upon the bodies of animals. The +Witch would bring out a corpse stolen from the neighbouring cemetery; +and, for the first time, at risk of being burned, you might gaze upon +that heavenly wonder, "which men"--as M. Serres has well said--"are +foolish enough to bury, instead of trying to understand." + +Paracelsus, the only doctor whom Satan admitted there, saw yet a third +worker, who, stealing at times into that dark assembly, displayed +there his surgical art. This was the surgeon of those happy days, the +headsman stout of hand, who could play patly enough with the fire, +could break bones and set them again; who if he killed, would +sometimes save, by hanging one only for a certain time. + +By the more sacrilegious of its essays this convict university of +witches, shepherds, and headsmen, emboldened the other, obliged its +rival to study. For everyone wanted to live. The Witch would have got +hold of everything: people would for ever have turned their backs on +the doctor. And so the Church was fain to suffer, to countenance these +crimes. She avowed her belief in _good poisons_ (Grillandus). She +found herself driven and constrained to allow of public dissections. +In 1306 one woman, in 1315 another, was opened and dissected by the +Italian Mondino. Here was a holy revelation, the discovery of a +greater world than that of Christopher Columbus! Fools shuddered or +howled; but wise men fell upon their knees. + + * * * * * + +With such conquests the Devil was like enough to live on. Never could +the Church alone have put an end to him. The stake itself was useless, +save for some political objects. + +Men had presently the wit to cleave Satan's realm in twain. Against +the Witch, his daughter, his bride, they armed his son, the doctor. +Heartily, utterly as the Church loathed the latter, yet to extinguish +the Witch, she established his monopoly nevertheless. In the +fourteenth century she proclaimed, that any woman who dared to heal +others _without having duly studied_, was a witch and should therefore +die. + +But how was she to study in public? Fancy what a scene of mingled fun +and horror would have occurred, if the poor savage had risked an +entrance into the schools! What games and merry-makings there would +have been! On Midsummer Day they used to chain cats together and burn +them in the fire. But to tie up a Witch in that hell of caterwaulers, +a Witch yelling and roasting, what fun it would have been for that +precious crew of monklings and cowlbearers! + +In due time we shall see the decline of Satan. Sad to tell, we shall +find him pacified, turned into _a good old fellow_. He will be robbed +and plundered, until of the two masks he wore at the Sabbath, the +dirtiest is taken by Tartuffe. His spirit is still everywhere, but of +his bodily self, in losing the Witch he lost all. The wizards were +only wearisome. + +Now that we have hurled him so far downwards, are we fully aware of +what has happened? Was he not an important actor, an essential item in +the great religious machine just now slightly out of gear? All +organisms that work properly are twofold, twosided. Life can otherwise +not go on at all. It is a kind of balance between two forces, +opposite, symmetrical, but unequal; the lower answering to the other +as its counterpoise. The higher chafes at it, seeks to put it down. So +doing, it is all wrong. + +When Colbert, in 1672, got rid of Satan, with very little ceremony, by +forbidding the judges to entertain pleas of witchcraft, the sturdy +Parliament of Normandy with its sound Norman logic pointed out the +dangerous drift of such a decision. The Devil is nothing less than a +dogma holding on to all the rest. If you meddle with the Eternally +Conquered, are you not meddling with the Conqueror likewise? To doubt +the acts of the former, leads to doubting the acts of the second, the +miracles he wrought for the very purpose of withstanding the Devil. +The pillars of heaven are grounded in the Abyss. He who thoughtlessly +removes that base infernal, may chance to split up Paradise itself. + +Colbert could not listen, having other business to mind. But the Devil +perhaps gave heed and was comforted. Amidst such minor means of +earning a livelihood as spirit-rapping or table-turning, he grows +resigned, and believes at least that he will not die alone. + + + + +BOOK I. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE DEATH OF THE GODS. + + +Certain authors have declared that, shortly before the triumph of +Christianity, a voice mysterious ran along the shores of the gean +Sea, crying, "Great Pan is dead!" The old universal god of nature was +no more; and great was the joy thereat. Men fancied that with the +death of nature temptation itself was dead. After the troublings of so +long a storm, the soul of man was at length to find rest. + +Was it merely a question touching the end of that old worship, its +overthrow, and the eclipse of old religious rites? By no means. +Consult the earliest Christian records, and in every line you may read +the hope, that nature is about to vanish, life to be extinguished; +that the end of the world, in short, is very near. It is all over with +the gods of life, who have spun out its mockeries to such a length. +Everything is falling, breaking up, rushing down headlong. The whole +is becoming as nought: "Great Pan is dead!" + +It was nothing new that the gods must perish. Many an ancient worship +was grounded in that very idea. Osiris, Adonis die indeed in order to +rise again. On the stage itself, in plays which were only acted for +the feast days of the gods, schylus expressly averred by the mouth of +Prometheus, that some day they should suffer death: but how? As +conquered and laid low by the Titans, the ancient powers of nature. + +Here, however, things are quite otherwise. Alike in generals and +particulars, in the past and the future, would the early Christians +have cursed Nature herself. So utterly did they condemn her, as to +find the Devil incarnate in a flower. Swiftly may the angels come +again, who erst overwhelmed the cities of the Dead Sea! Oh, that they +may sweep off, may crumple up as a veil the hollow frame of this +world; may at length deliver the saints from their long trial! + +The Evangelist said, "The day is coming:" the Fathers, "It is coming +immediately." From the breaking-up of the Empire and the invasion of +the Barbarians, St. Augustin draws the hope that very soon no city +would remain but the city of God. + +And yet, how hard of dying is the world; how stubbornly bent on +living! Like Hezekiah, it begs a respite, one turn more of the dial. +Well, then, be it so until the year one thousand. But thereafter, not +one day. + + * * * * * + +Are we quite sure of what has been so often repeated, that the gods of +old had come to an end, themselves wearied and sickened of living; +that they were so disheartened as almost to send in their resignation; +that Christianity had only to blow upon these empty shades? + +They point to the gods in Rome; they point out those in the Capitol, +admitted there only by a kind of preliminary death, on the surrender, +I might say, of all their local pith; as having disowned their +country, as having ceased to be the representative spirits of the +nations. In order to receive them, indeed, Rome had performed on them +a cruel operation: they were enervated, bleached. Those great +centralized deities became in their official life the mournful +functionaries of the Roman Empire. But the decline of that Olympian +aristocracy had in no wise drawn down the host of home-born gods, the +mob of deities still keeping hold of the boundless country-sides, of +the woods, the hills, the fountains; still intimately blended with the +life of the country. These gods abiding in the heart of oaks, in +waters deep and rushing, could not be driven therefrom. + +Who says so? The Church. She rudely gainsays her own words. Having +proclaimed their death, she is indignant because they live. Time after +time, by the threatening voice of her councils[5] she gives them +notice of their death--and lo! they are living still. + + [5] See Mansi, Baluze; Council of Arles, 442; of Tours, 567; + of Leptines, 743; the Capitularies, &c., and even Gerson, + about 1400. + +"They are devils."--Then they must be alive. Failing to make an end of +them, men suffer the simple folk to clothe, to disguise them. By the +help of legends they come to be baptized, even to be foisted upon the +Church. But at least they are converted? Not yet. We catch them +stealthily subsisting in their own heathen character. + +Where are they? In the desert, on the moor, in the forest? Ay; but, +above all, in the house. They are kept up by the most intimate +household usages. The wife guards and hides them in her household +things, even in her bed. With her they have the best place in the +world, better than the temple,--the fireside. + + * * * * * + +Never was revolution so violent as that of Theodosius. Antiquity shows +no trace of such proscription of any worship. The Persian +fire-worshipper might, in the purity of his heroism, have insulted the +visible deities, but he let them stand nevertheless. He greatly +favoured the Jews, protecting and employing them. Greece, daughter of +the light, made merry with the gods of darkness, the tunbellied +Cabiri; but yet she bore with them, adopted them as workmen, even to +shaping out of them her own Vulcan. Rome in her majesty welcomed not +only Etruria, but even the rural gods of the old Italian labourer. She +persecuted the Druids, but only as the centre of a dangerous national +resistance. + +Christianity conquering sought and thought to slay the foe. It +demolished the schools, by proscribing logic and uprooting the +philosophers, whom Valens slaughtered. It razed or emptied the +temples, shivered to pieces the symbols. The new legend would have +been propitious to the family, had the father not been cancelled in +Saint Joseph; had the mother been set up as an educatress, as having +morally brought forth Jesus. A fruitful road there was, but abandoned +at the very outset through the effort to attain a high but barren +purity. + +So Christianity turned into that lonely path where the world was going +of itself; the path of a celibacy in vain opposed by the laws of the +emperors. Down this slope it was hurled headlong by the establishment +of monkery. + +But in the desert was man alone? The Devil kept him company with all +manner of temptations. He could not help himself, he was driven to +create anew societies, nay whole cities of anchorites. We all know +those dismal towns of monks which grew up in the Thebaid; how wild, +unruly a spirit dwelt among them; how deadly were their descents on +Alexandria. They talked of being troubled, beset by the Devil; and +they told no lie. + +A huge gap was made in the world; and who was to fill it? The +Christians said, The Devil, everywhere the Devil: _ubique dmon_.[6] + + [6] See the Lives of the Desert Fathers, and the authors + quoted by A. Maurie, _Magie_, 317. In the fourth century, the + Messalians, thinking themselves full of devils, spat and blew + their noses without ceasing; made incredible efforts to spit + them forth. + +Greece, like all other nations, had her _energumens_, who were sore +tried, possessed by spirits. The relation there is quite external; the +seeming likeness is really none at all. Here we have no spirits of any +kind: they are but black children of the Abyss, the ideal of +waywardness. Thenceforth we see them everywhere, those poor +melancholics, loathing, shuddering at their own selves. Think what it +must be to fancy yourself double, to believe in that _other_, that +cruel host who goes and comes and wanders within you, making you roam +at his pleasure among deserts, over precipices! You waste and weaken +more and more; and the weaker grows your wretched body, the more is it +worried by the devil. In woman especially these tyrants dwell, making +her blown and swollen. They fill her with an infernal _wind_, they +brew in her storms and tempests, play with her as the whim seizes +them, drive her to wickedness, to despair. + +And not ourselves only, but all nature, alas! becomes demoniac. If +there is a devil in the flower, how much more in the gloomy forest! +The light we think so pure teems with children of the night. The +heavens themselves--O blasphemy!--are full of hell. That divine +morning star, whose glorious beams not seldom lightened a Socrates, an +Archimedes, a Plato, what is it now become? A devil, the archfiend +Lucifer. In the eventime again it is the devil Venus who draws me into +temptation by her light so soft and mild. + +That such a society should wax wroth and terrible is not surprising. +Indignant at feeling itself so weak against devils, it persecutes them +everywhere, in the temples, at the altars once of the ancient worship, +then of the heathen martyrs. Let there be more feasts?--they will +likely be so many gatherings of idolaters. The Family itself becomes +suspected: for custom might bring it together round the ancient Lares. +And why should there be a family?--the empire is an empire of monks. + +But the individual man himself, thus dumb and isolated though he be, +still watches the sky, still honours his ancient gods whom he finds +anew in the stars. "This is he," said the Emperor Theodosius, "who +causes famines and all the plagues of the empire." Those terrible +words turned the blind rage of the people loose upon the harmless +Pagan. Blindly the law unchained all its furies against the law. + +Ye gods of Eld, depart into your tombs! Get ye extinguished, gods of +Love, of Life, of Light! Put on the monk's cowl. Maidens, become nuns. +Wives, forsake your husbands; or, if ye will look after the house, be +unto them but cold sisters. + +But is all this possible? What man's breath shall be strong enough to +put out at one effort the burning lamp of God? These rash endeavours +of an impious piety may evoke miracles strange and monstrous. Tremble, +guilty that ye are! + +Often in the Middle Ages will recur the mournful tale of the Bride of +Corinth. Told at a happy moment by Phlegon, Adrian's freedman, it +meets us again in the twelfth, and yet again in the sixteenth century, +as the deep reproof, the invincible protest of nature herself. + + * * * * * + +"A young man of Athens went to Corinth, to the house of one who had +promised him his daughter. Himself being still a heathen, he knew not +that the family which he thought to enter had just turned Christian. +It is very late when he arrives. They are all gone to rest, except the +mother, who serves up for him the hospitable repast and then leaves +him to sleep. Dead tired, he drops down. Scarce was he fallen asleep, +when a figure entered the room: 'tis a girl all clothed and veiled in +white; on her forehead a fillet of black and gold. She sees him. In +amazement she lifts her white hand: 'Am I, then, such a stranger in +the house already? Alas, poor recluse!... But I am ashamed, and +withdraw. Sleep on.' + +"'Stay, fair maiden! Here are Bacchus, Ceres, and with thee comes +Love. Fear not, look not so pale!' + +"'Ah! Away from me, young man! I have nothing more to do with +happiness. By a vow my mother made in her sickness my youth and my +life are bound for ever. The gods have fled, and human victims now are +our only sacrifices.' + +"'Ha! can it be thou, thou, my darling betrothed, who wast given me +from my childhood? The oath of our fathers bound us for evermore under +the blessing of heaven. Maiden, be mine!' + +"'No, my friend, not I. Thou shalt have my younger sister. If I moan +in my chilly dungeon, do thou in her arms think of me, of me wasting +away and thinking only of thee; of me whom the earth is about to cover +again.' + +"'Nay, I swear by this flame, the torch of Hymen, thou shalt come home +with me to my father. Rest thee, my own beloved.' + +"As a wedding-gift he offers her a cup of gold. She gives him her +chain, but instead of the cup desires a curl of his hair. + +"It is the hour of spirits; her pale lip drinks up the dark blood-red +wine. He too drinks greedily after her. He calls on the god of Love. +She still resisted, though her poor heart was dying thereat. But he +grows desperate, and falls weeping on the couch. Anon she throws +herself by his side. + +"'Oh! how ill thy sorrow makes me! Yet, if thou wast to touch me---- +Oh, horror!--white as the snow, and cold as ice, such, ah me! is thy +bride.' + +"'I will warm thee again: come to me, wert thou come from the very +grave.' + +"Sighs and kisses many do they exchange. + +"'Dost thou feel how warm I am?' + +"Love twines and holds them fast. Tears mingle with their joy. She +changes with the fire she drinks from his mouth: her icy blood is +aglow with passion; but the heart in her bosom will not beat. + +"But the mother was there listening. Soft vows, cries of wailing and +of pleasure. + +"'Hush, the cock is crowing: to-morrow night!' Then with kiss on kiss +they say farewell. + +"In wrath the mother enters; sees what? Her daughter. He would have +hidden her, covered her up. But freeing herself from him, she grew +from the couch up to the roof. + +"'O mother, mother, you grudge me a pleasant night; you would drive me +from this cosy spot! Was it not enough to have wrapped me in my +winding-sheet and borne me to the grave? A greater power has lifted up +the stone. In vain did your priests drone over the trench they dug for +me. Of what use are salt and water, where burns the fire of youth? The +earth cannot freeze up love. You made a promise; I have just reclaimed +my own. + +"'Alas, dear friend, thou must die: thou wouldst but pine and dry up +here. I have thy hair; it will be white to-morrow.... Mother, one last +prayer! Open my dark dungeon, set up a stake, and let the loving one +find rest in the flames. Let the sparks fly upward and the ashes +redden. We will go to our olden gods.'"[7] + + [7] Here I have suppressed a shocking phrase. Goethe, so + noble in the form, is not so in the spirit of his poem. He + spoils the marvel of the legend by sullying the Greek + conception with a horrible Slavish idea. As they are weeping, + he turns the maiden into a vampire. She comes because she + thirsts for blood, that she may suck the blood from his + heart. And he makes her coldly say this impious and unclean + thing: "When I have done with him, I will pass on to others: + the young blood shall fall a prey to my fury." + + In the Middle Ages this story put on a grotesque garb, by way + of frightening us with the _Devil Venus_. On the finger of + her statue a young man imprudently places a ring, which she + clasps tight, guarding it like a bride, and going in the + night to his couch, to assert her rights. He cannot rid + himself of his infernal spouse without an exorcism. The same + tale, foolishly applied to the Virgin, is found in the + _Fabliaux_. If my memory does not mislead me, Luther also, in + his "Table Talk," takes up the old story in a very coarse + way, till you quite smell the body. The Spanish Del Rio + shifts the scene of it to Brabant. The bride dies shortly + before her marriage; the death-bells are rung. The bridegroom + rushed wildly over the country. He hears a wail. It is she + herself wandering about the heath. "Seest thou not"--she + says--"who leads me?" But he catches her up and bears her + home. At this point the story threatened to become too + moving; but the hard inquisitor, Del Rio, cuts the thread. + "On lifting her veil," says he, "they found only a log of + wood covered with the skin of a corpse." The Judge le Loyer, + silly though he be, has restored the older version. + + Thenceforth these gloomy taletellers come to an end. The + story is useless when our own age begins; for then the bride + has triumphed. Nature comes back from the grave, not by + stealth, but as mistress of the house. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +WHY THE MIDDLE AGES FELL INTO DESPAIR. + + +"Be ye as newborn babes (_quasi modo geniti infantes_); be thoroughly +childlike in the innocence of your hearts; peaceful, forgetting all +disputes, calmly resting under the hand of Christ." Such is the kindly +counsel tendered by the Church to this stormy world on the morning +after the great fall. In other words: "Volcanoes, ruins, ashes, and +lava, become green. Ye parched plains, get covered with flowers." + +One thing indeed gave promise of the peace that reneweth: the schools +were all shut up, the way of logic forsaken. A method infinitely +simple for the doing away with argument, offered all men a gentle +slope, down which they had nothing to do but go. If the creed was +doubtful, the life was all traced out in the pathway of the legend. +From first to last but the one word _Imitation_. + +"Imitate, and all will go well. Rehearse and copy." But is this the +way to that true childhood which quickens the heart of man, which +leads back to its fresh and fruitful springs? In this world that is to +make us young and childlike, I see at first nothing but the tokens of +age; only cunning, slavishness, want of power. What kind of +literature is this, confronted with the glorious monuments of Greeks +and Jews? We have just the same literary fall as happened in India +from Brahminism to Buddhism; a twaddling flow of words after a noble +inspiration. Books copy from books, churches from churches, until they +cannot so much as copy. They pillage from each other: Aix-la-Chapelle +is adorned with the marbles torn from Ravenna. It is the same with all +the social life of those days. The bishop-king of a city, the savage +king of a tribe, alike copy the Roman magistrates. Original as one +might deem them, our monks in their monasteries simply restored their +ancient _Villa_, as Chateaubriand well said. They had no notion either +of forming a new society or of fertilizing the old. Copying from the +monks of the East, they wanted their servants at first to be +themselves a barren race of monkling workmen. It was in spite of them +that the family in renewing itself renewed the world. + +Seeing how fast these oldsters keep on oldening; how in one age we +fall from the wise monk St. Benedict down to the pedantic Benedict of +Aniane;[8] we feel that such gentry were wholly guiltless of that +great popular creation which bloomed amidst ruins; namely, the Lives +of the Saints. If the monks wrote, it was the people made them. This +young growth might throw out some leaves and flowers from the crannies +of an old Roman ruin turned into a convent: but most assuredly not +thence did it first arise. Its roots go deep into the ground: sown by +the people and cultivated by the family, it takes help from every +hand, from men, from women, from children. The precarious, troubled +life of those days of violence, made these poor folk imaginative, +prone to believe in their own dreams, as being to them full of +comfort: strange dreams withal, rich in marvels, in fooleries; absurd, +but charming. + + [8] Benedict founded a convent at Aniane in Languedoc, in the + reign of Charlemagne. + +These families, isolated in forests and mountains, as we still see +them in the Tyrol or the Higher Alps, and coming down thence but once +a week, never wanted for illusions in the desert. One child had seen +this, some woman had dreamed that. A new saint began to rise. The +story went abroad in the shape of a ballad with doggrel rhymes. They +sang and danced to it of an evening at the oak by the fountain. The +priest, when he came on Sunday to perform service in the woodland +chapel, found the legendary chant already in every mouth. He said to +himself, "After all, history is good, is edifying.... It does honour +to the Church. _Vox populi, vox Dei!_--But how did they light upon +it?" He could be shown the true, the irrefragable proofs of it in some +tree or stone which had witnessed the apparition, had marked the +miracle. What can he say to that? + +Brought back to the abbey, the tale will find a monk good for nothing, +who can only write; who is curious, believes everything, no matter +how marvellous. It is written out, broidered with his dull rhetoric, +and spoilt a little. But now it has come forth, confirmed and +consecrated, to be read in the refectory, ere long in the church. +Copied, loaded and overloaded with ornaments chiefly grotesque, it +will go on from age to age, until at last it comes to take high rank +in the Golden Legend. + + * * * * * + +When those fair stories are read again to us in these days, even as we +listen to the simple, grave, artless airs into which those rural +peoples threw all their young heart, we cannot help marking a great +inspiration; and we are moved to pity as we reflect upon their fate. + +They had taken literally the touching advice of the Church: "Be ye as +newborn babes." But they gave to it a meaning, the very last that one +would dream of finding in the original thought. As much as +Christianity feared and hated Nature, even so much did these others +cherish her, deeming her all guileless, hallowing her even in the +legends wherewith they mingled her up. + +Those _hairy_ animals, as the Bible sharply calls them, animals +mistrusted by the monks who fear to find devils among them, enter in +the most touching way into these beautiful stories; as the hind, for +instance, who refreshes and comforts Genevive of Brabant. + +Even outside the life of legends, in the common everyday world, the +humble friends of his hearth, the bold helpmates of his work, rise +again in man's esteem. They have their own laws,[9] their own +festivals. If in God's unbounded goodness there is room for the +smallest creatures, if He seems to show them a pitying preference, +"Wherefore," says the countryman, "should my ass not have entered the +church? Doubtless, he has his faults, wherein he only resembles me the +more. He is a rough worker, but has a hard head; is intractable, +stubborn, headstrong; in short, just like myself." + + [9] See J. Grimm, _Rechts Alterthmer_, and my _Origines du + Droit_. + +Thence come those wonderful feasts, the fairest of the Middle Ages; +feasts of _Innocents_, of _Fools_, of the _Ass_. It is the people +itself, moreover, which, in the shape of an ass, draws about its own +image, presents itself before the altar, ugly, comical, abased. +Verily, a touching sight! Led by Balaam, he enters solemnly between +Virgil and the Sibyl;[10] enters that he may bear witness. If he +kicked of yore against Balaam, it was that before him he beheld the +sword of the ancient law. But here the law is ended, and the world of +grace seems opening its two-leaved gate to the mean and to the simple. +The people innocently believes it all. Thereon comes that lofty hymn, +in which it says to the ass what it might have said to itself:-- + + "Down on knee and say _Amen_! + Grass and hay enough hast eaten. + Leave the bad old ways, and go! + + * * * * * + + For the new expels the old: + Shadows fly before the noon: + Light hath hunted out the night." + + [10] According to the ritual of Rouen. See Ducange on the + words _Festum_ and _Kalend_: also Martne, iii. 110. The + Sibyl was crowned and followed by Jews and Gentiles, by + Moses, the Prophets, Nebuchadnezzar, &c. From a very early + time, and continually from the seventh to the seventeenth + century, the Church strove to proscribe the great people's + feasts of the Ass, of Innocents, of Children, and of Fools. + It never succeeded until the advent of the modern spirit. + +How bold and coarse ye are! Was it this we asked of you, children rash +and wayward, when we told you to be as children? We offered you milk; +you are drinking wine. We led you softly, bridle in hand, along the +narrow path. Mild and fearful, ye hesitated to go forward: and now, +all at once, the bridle is broken; the course is cleared at a single +bound. Ah! how foolish we were to let you make your own saints; to +dress out the altar; to deck, to burden, to cover it up with flowers! +Why, it is hardly distinguishable! And what we do see is the old +heresy condemned of the Church, _the innocence of nature_: what am I +saying?--a new heresy, not like to end to-morrow, _the independence of +man_. + +Listen and obey!--You are forbidden to invent, to create. No more +legends, no more new saints: we have had enough of them. You are +forbidden to introduce new chants in your worship: inspiration is not +allowed. The martyrs you would bring to light should stay modestly +within their tombs, waiting to be recognised by the Church. The +clergy, the monks are forbidden to grant the tonsure of civil freedom +to husbandmen and serfs. Such is the narrow fearful spirit that fills +the Church of the Carlovingian days.[11] She unsays her words, she +gives herself the lie, she says to the children, "Be old!" + + [11] See the Capitularies, _passim_. + + * * * * * + +A fall indeed! But is this earnest? They had bidden us all be +young.--Ah! but priest and people are no longer one. A divorce without +end begins, a gulf unpassable divides them for ever. The priest +himself, a lord and prince, will come out in his golden cope, and +chant in the royal speech of that great empire which is no more. For +ourselves, a mournful company, bereft of human speech, of the only +speech that God would care to hear, what else can we do but low and +bleat with the guileless friends who never scorn us, who, in +winter-time will keep us warm in their stable, or cover us with their +fleeces? We will live with dumb beasts, and be dumb ourselves. + +In sooth there is less need than before for our going to church. But +the church will not hold us free: she insists on our returning to hear +what we no longer understand. Thenceforth a mighty fog, a fog heavy +and dun as lead, enwraps the world. For how long? For a whole +millennium of horror. Throughout ten centuries, a languor unknown to +all former times seizes upon the Middle Ages, even in part on those +latter days that come midway betwixt sleep and waking, and holds them +under the sway of a visitation most irksome, most unbearable; that +convulsion, namely, of mental weariness, which men call a fit of +yawning. + +When the tireless bell rings at the wonted hours, they yawn; while the +nasal chant is singing in the old Latin words, they yawn. It is all +foreseen, there is nothing to hope for in the world, everything will +come round just the same as before. The certainty of being bored +to-morrow sets one yawning from to-day; and the long vista of +wearisome days, of wearisome years to come, weighs men down, sickens +them from the first with living. From brain to stomach, from stomach +to mouth, the fatal fit spreads of its own accord, and keeps on +distending the jaws without end or remedy. An actual disease the pious +Bretons call it, ascribing it, however, to the malice of the Devil. He +keeps crouching in the woods, the peasants say: if anyone passes by +tending his cattle, he sings to him vespers and other rites, until he +is dead with yawning.[12] + + [12] An illustrious Breton, the last man of the Middle Ages, + who had gone on a bootless errand to convert Rome, received + there some brilliant offers. "What do you want?" said the + Pope.--"Only one thing: to have done with the Breviary." + + * * * * * + +_To be old_ is to be weak. When the Saracens, when the Norsemen +threaten us, what will come to us if the people remain old? +Charlemagne weeps, and the Church weeps too. She owns that her relics +fail to guard her altars from these Barbarian devils.[13] Had she not +better call upon the arm of that wayward child whom she was going to +bind fast, the arm of that young giant whom she wanted to paralyse? +This movement in two opposite ways fills the whole ninth century. The +people are held back, anon they are hurled forward: we fear them and +we call on them for aid. With them and by means of them we throw up +hasty barriers, defences that may check the Barbarians, while +sheltering the priests and their saints escaped thither from their +churches. + + [13] The famous avowal made by Hincmar. + +In spite of the Bald Emperor's[14] command not to build, there grows +up a tower on the mountain. Thither comes the fugitive, crying, "In +God's name, take me in, at least my wife and children! Myself with my +cattle will encamp in your outer enclosure." The tower emboldens him +and he feels himself a man. It gives him shade, and he in his turn +defends, protects his protector. + + [14] Charles the Bald.--TRANS. + +Formerly in their hunger the small folk yielded themselves to the +great as serfs; but here how great the difference! He offers himself +as a _vassal_, one who would be called brave and valiant.[15] He gives +himself up, and keeps himself, and reserves to himself the right of +going elsewhere. "I will go further: the earth is large: I, too, like +the rest, can rear my tower yonder. If I have defended the outworks, I +can surely look after myself within." + + [15] A difference too little felt by those who have spoken of + the _personal recommendation_, &c. + +Thus nobly, thus grandly arose the feudal world. The master of the +tower received his vassals with some such words as these: "Thou shalt +go when thou willest, and if need be with my help; at least, if thou +shouldst sink in the mire, I myself will dismount to succour thee." +These are the very words of the old formula.[16] + + [16] Grimm, _Rechts Alterthmer_, and my _Origines du Droit_. + + * * * * * + +But, one day, what do I see? Can my sight be grown dim? The lord of +the valley, as he rides about, sets up bounds that none may overleap; +ay, and limits that you cannot see. "What is that? I don't +understand." That means that the manor is shut in. "The lord keeps it +all fast under gate and hinge, between heaven and earth." + +Most horrible! By virtue of what law is this _vassus_ (or _valiant_ +one) held to his power? People will thereon have it, that _vassus_ may +also mean _slave_. In like manner the word _servus_, meaning a +_servant_, often indeed a proud one, even a Count or Prince of the +Empire, comes in the case of the weak to signify a _serf_, a wretch +whose life is hardly worth a halfpenny. + +In this damnable net are they caught. But down yonder, on his ground, +is a man who avers that his land is free, a _freehold_, a _fief of the +sun_. Seated on his boundary-stone, with hat pressed firmly down, he +looks at Count or Emperor passing near. "Pass on, Emperor; go thy +ways! If thou art firm on thy horse, yet more am I on my pillar. Thou +mayest pass, but so will not I: for I am Freedom." + +But I lack courage to say what becomes of this man. The air grows +thick around him: he breathes less and less freely. He seems to be +_under a spell_: he cannot move: he is as one paralysed. His very +beasts grow thin, as if a charm had been thrown over them. His +servants die of hunger. His land bears nothing now; spirits sweep it +clean by night. + +Still he holds on: "The poor man is a king in his own house." But he +is not to be let alone. He gets summoned, must answer for himself in +the Imperial Court. So he goes, like an old-world spectre, whom no one +knows any more. "What is he?" ask the young. "Ah, he is neither a +lord, nor a serf! Yet even then is he nothing?" + +"Who am I? I am he who built the first tower, he who succoured you, he +who, leaving the tower, went boldly forth to meet the Norse heathens +at the bridge. Yet more, I dammed the river, I tilled the meadow, +creating the land itself by drawing it God-like out of the waters. +From this land who shall drive me?" + +"No, my friend," says a neighbour--"you shall not be driven away. You +shall till this land, but in a way you little think for. Remember, my +good fellow, how in your youth, some fifty years ago, you were rash +enough to wed my father's little serf, Jacqueline. Remember the +proverb, 'He who courts my hen is my cock.' You belong to my +fowl-yard. Ungird yourself; throw away your sword! From this day forth +you are my serf." + +There is no invention here. The dreadful tale recurs incessantly +during the Middle Ages. Ah, it was a sharp sword that stabbed him. I +have abridged and suppressed much, for as often as one returns to +these times, the same steel, the same sharp point, pierces right +through the heart. + +There was one among them who, under this gross insult, fell into so +deep a rage that he could not bring up a single word. It was like +Roland betrayed. His blood all rushed upwards into his throat. His +flaming eyes, his mouth so dumb, yet so fearfully eloquent, turned all +the assembly pale. They started back. He was dead: his veins had +burst. His arteries spurted the red blood over the faces of his +murderers.[17] + + [17] This befell the Count of Avesnes when his freehold was + declared a mere fief, himself a mere vassal, a serf of the + Earl of Hainault. Read, too, the dreadful story of the Great + Chancellor of Flanders, the first magistrate of Bruges, who + also was claimed as a serf.--Gualterius, _Scriptores Rerum + Francicarum_, viii. 334. + + * * * * * + +The doubtful state of men's affairs, the frightfully slippery descent +by which the freeman becomes a vassal, the vassal a servant, and the +servant a serf,--in these things lie the great terror of the Middle +Ages, and the depth of their despair. There is no way of escape +therefrom; for he who takes one step is lost. He is an _alien_, a +_stray_, a _wild beast of the chase_. The ground grows slimy to catch +his feet, roots him, as he passes, to the spot. The contagion in the +air kills him; he becomes a thing _in mortmain_, a dead creature, a +mere nothing, a beast, a soul worth twopence-halfpenny, whose murder +can be atoned for by twopence-halfpenny. + +These are outwardly the two great leading traits in the wretchedness +of the Middle Ages, through which they came to give themselves up to +the Devil. Meanwhile let us look within, and sound the innermost +depths of their moral life. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE LITTLE DEVIL OF THE FIRESIDE. + + +There is an air of dreaming about those earlier centuries of the +Middle Ages, in which the legends were self-conceived. Among +countryfolk so gently submissive, as these legends show them, to the +Church, you would readily suppose that very great innocence might be +found. This is surely the temple of God the Father. And yet the +_penitentiaries_, wherein reference is made to ordinary sins, speak of +strange defilements, of things afterwards rare enough under the rule +of Satan. + +These sprang from two causes, from the utter ignorance of the times, +and from the close intermingling of near kindred under one roof. They +seem to have had but a slight acquaintance with our modern ethics. +Those of their day, all counterpleas notwithstanding, resemble the +ethics of the patriarchs, of that far antiquity which regarded +marriage with a stranger as immoral, and allowed only of marriage +amongst kinsfolk. The families thus joined together became as one. Not +daring to scatter over the surrounding deserts, tilling only the +outskirts of a Merovingian palace or a monastery, they took shelter +every evening under the roof of a large homestead (_villa_). Thence +arose unpleasant points of analogy with the ancient _ergastulum_, +where the slaves of an estate were all crammed together. Many of these +communities lasted through and even beyond the Middle Ages. About the +results of such a system the lord would feel very little concern. To +his eyes but one family was visible in all this tribe, this multitude +of people "who rose and lay down together, ... who ate together of the +same bread, and drank out of the same mug." + +Amidst such confusion the woman was not much regarded. Her place was +by no means lofty. If the virgin, the ideal woman, rose higher from +age to age, the real woman was held of little worth among these +boorish masses, in this medley of men and herds. Wretched was the doom +of a condition which could only change with the growth of separate +dwellings, when men at length took courage to live apart in hamlets, +or to build them huts in far-off forest-clearings, amidst the fruitful +fields they had gone out to cultivate. From the lonely hearth comes +the true family. It is the nest that forms the bird. Thenceforth they +were no more things, but men; for then also was the woman born. + + * * * * * + +It was a very touching moment, the day she entered _her own home_. +Then at last the poor wretch might become pure and holy. There, as she +sits spinning alone, while her goodman is in the forest, she may brood +on some thought and dream away. Her damp, ill-fastened cabin, through +which keeps whistling the winter wind, is still, by way of a +recompense, calm and silent. In it are sundry dim corners where the +housewife lodges her dreams. + +And by this time she has some property, something of her own. The +_distaff_, the _bed_, and the _trunk_, are all she has, according to +the old song.[18] We may add a table, a seat, perhaps two stools. A +poor dwelling and very bare; but then it is furnished with a living +soul! The fire cheers her, the blessed box-twigs guard her bed, +accompanied now and again by a pretty bunch of vervein. Seated by her +door, the lady of this palace spins and watches some sheep. We are not +yet rich enough to keep a cow; but to that we may come in time, if +Heaven will bless our house. The wood, a bit of pasture, and some bees +about our ground--such is our way of life! But little corn is +cultivated as yet, there being no assurance of a harvest so long of +coming. Such a life, however needy, is anyhow less hard for the woman: +she is not broken down and withered, as she will be in the days of +large farming. And she has more leisure withal. You must never judge +of her by the coarse literature of the Fabliaux and the Christmas +Carols, by the foolish laughter and license of the filthy tales we +have to put up with by and by. She is alone; without a neighbour. The +bad, unwholesome life of the dark, little, walled towns, the mutual +spyings, the wretched dangerous gossipings, have not yet begun. No old +woman comes of an evening, when the narrow street is growing dark, to +tempt the young maiden by saying how for the love of her somebody is +dying. She has no friend but her own reflections; she converses only +with her beasts or the tree in the forest. + + [18] + + "Trois pas du ct du banc, + Et trois pas du ct du lit; + Trois pas du ct du coffre, + Et trois pas---- Revenez ici." + + (_Old Song of the Dancing Master._) + +Such things speak to her, we know of what. They recall to her mind the +saws once uttered by her mother and grandmother; ancient saws handed +down for ages from woman to woman. They form a harmless reminder of +the old country spirits, a touching family religion which doubtless +had little power in the blustering hurly-burly of a great common +dwellinghouse, but now comes back again to haunt the lonely cabin. + +It is a singular, a delicate world of fays and hobgoblins, made for a +woman's soul. When the great creation of the saintly Legend gets +stopped and dried up, that other older, more poetic legend comes in +for its share of welcome; reigns privily with gentle sway. It is the +woman's treasure; she worships and caresses it. The fay, too, is a +woman, a fantastic mirror wherein she sees herself in a fairer guise. + +Who were these fays? Tradition says, that of yore some Gaulish queens, +being proud and fanciful, did on the coming of Christ and His Apostles +behave so insolently as to turn their backs upon them. In Brittany +they were dancing at the moment, and never stopped dancing. Hence +their hard doom; they are condemned to live until the Day of +Judgment.[19] Many of them were turned into mice or rabbits; as the +Kow-riggwans for instance, or Elves, who meeting at night round the +old Druidic stones entangle you in their dances. The same fate befell +the pretty Queen Mab, who made herself a royal chariot out of a +walnut-shell. They are all rather whimsical, and sometimes +ill-humoured. But can we be surprised at them, remembering their +woeful lot? Tiny and odd as they are, they have a heart, a longing to +be loved. They are good and they are bad and full of fancies. On the +birth of a baby they come down the chimney, to endow it and order its +future. They are fond of good spinning-women--they even spin divinely +themselves. Do we not talk of _spinning like a fairy_? + + [19] All passages bearing on this point have been gathered + together in two learned works by M. Maury (_Les Fes_, 1843; + and _La Magie_, 1860). See also Grimm. + +The fairy-tales, stripped of the absurd embellishments in which the +latest compilers muffled them up, express the heart of the people +itself. They mark a poetic interval between the gross communism of the +primitive _villa_, and the looseness of the time when a growing +burgess-class made our cynical Fabliaux.[20] + + [20] A body of tales by the Trouvres of the twelfth and + thirteenth centuries.--TRANS. + +These tales have an historical side, reminding us, in the ogres, &c., +of the great famines. But commonly they soar higher than any history, +on the _Blue Bird's_ wing, in a realm of eternal poesy; telling us our +wishes which never vary, the unchangeable history of the heart. + +The poor serf's longing to breathe, to rest, to find a treasure that +may end his sufferings, continually returns. More often, through a +lofty aspiration, this treasure becomes a soul as well, a treasure of +love asleep, as in _The Sleeping Beauty_: but not seldom the charming +person finds herself by some fatal enchantment hidden under a mask. +Hence that touching trilogy, that admirable _crescendo_ of _Riquet +with the Tuft_, _Ass's Skin_, and _Beauty and the Beast_. Love will +not be discouraged. Through all that ugliness it follows after and +gains the hidden beauty. In the last of these tales that feeling +touches the sublime, and I think that no one has ever read it without +weeping. + +A passion most real, most sincere, lurks beneath it--that unhappy, +hopeless love, which unkind nature often sets between poor souls of +very different ranks in life. On the one hand is the grief of the +peasant maid at not being able to make herself fair enough to win the +cavalier's fancy; on the other the smothered sighs of the serf, when +along his furrow he sees passing, on a white horse, too exquisite a +glory, the beautiful, the majestic Lady of the Castle. So in the East +arises the mournful idyll of the impossible loves of the Rose and the +Nightingale. Nevertheless, there is one great difference: the bird and +the flower are both beautiful; nay, are alike in their beauty. But +here the humbler being, doomed to a place so far below, avows to +himself that he is ugly and monstrous. But amidst his wailing he feels +in himself a power greater than the East can know. With the will of a +hero, through the very greatness of his desire, he breaks out of his +idle coverings. He loves so much, this monster, that he is loved, and, +in return, through that love grows beautiful. + +An infinite tenderness pervades it all. This soul enchanted thinks not +of itself alone. It busies itself in saving all nature and all society +as well. Victims of every kind, the child beaten by its step-mother, +the youngest sister slighted, ill-used by her elders, are the surest +objects of its liking. Even to the Lady of the Castle does its +compassion extend; it mourns her fallen into the hands of so fierce a +lord as Blue-Beard. It yearns with pity towards the beasts; it seeks +to console them for being still in the shape of animals. Let them be +patient, and their day will come. Some day their prisoned souls shall +put on wings, shall be free, lovely, and beloved. This is the other +side of _Ass's Skin_ and such like stories. There especially we are +sure of finding a woman's heart. The rude labourer in the fields may +be hard enough to his beasts, but to the woman they are no beasts. She +regards them with the feeling of a child. To her fancy all is human, +all is soul: the whole world becomes ennobled. It is a beautiful +enchantment. Humble as she is, and ugly as she thinks herself, she +has given all her beauty, all her grace to the surrounding universe. + + * * * * * + +Is she, then, so ugly, this little peasant-wife, whose dreaming fancy +feeds on things like these? I tell you she keeps house, she spins and +minds the flock, she visits the forest to gather a little wood. As yet +she has neither the hard work nor the ugly looks of the countrywoman +as afterwards fashioned by the prevalent culture of grain crops. Nor +is she like the fat townswife, heavy and slothful, about whom our +fathers made such a number of fat stories. She has no sense of safety; +she is meek and timid, and feels herself, as it were, in God's hand. +On yonder hill she can see the dark frowning castle, whence a thousand +harms may come upon her. Her husband she holds in equal fear and +honour. A serf elsewhere, by her side he is a king. For him she saves +of her best, living herself on nothing. She is small and slender like +the women-saints of the Church. The poor feeding of those days must +needs make women fine-bred, but lacking also in vital strength. The +children die off in vast numbers: those pale roses are all nerves. +Hence, will presently burst forth the epileptic dances of the +fourteenth century. Meanwhile, towards the twelfth century, there come +to be two weaknesses attached to this state of half-grown youth: by +night somnambulism; in the daytime seeing of visions, trance, and the +gift of tears. + + * * * * * + +This woman, for all her innocence, still has a secret which the Church +may never be told. Locked up in her heart she bears the pitying +remembrance of those poor old gods who have fallen into the state of +spirits;[21] and spirits, you must know, are not exempt from +suffering. Dwelling in rocks, and in hearts of oak, they are very +unhappy in winter; being particularly fond of warmth. They ramble +about houses; they are sometimes seen in stables warming themselves +beside the beasts. Bereft of incense and burnt-offerings, they +sometimes take of the milk. The housewife being thrifty, will not +stint her husband, but lessens her own share, and in the evening +leaves a little cream. + + [21] This loyalty of hers is very touching indeed. In the + fifth century the peasants braved persecution by parading the + gods of the old religion in the shape of small dolls made of + linen or flour. Still the same in the eighth century. The + _Capitularies_ threaten death in vain. In the twelfth + century, Burchard, of Worms, attests their inutility. In + 1389, the Sorbonne inveighs against certain traces of + heathenism, while in 1400, Gerson talks of it as still a + lively superstition. + +Those spirits who only appear at night, regret their banishment from +the day and are greedy of lamplight. By night the housewife starts on +her perilous trip, bearing a small lantern, to the great oak where +they dwell, or to the secret fountain whose mirror, as it multiplies +the flame, may cheer up those sorrowful outlaws. + +But if anyone should know of it, good heavens! Her husband is canny +and fears the Church: he would certainly give her a beating. The +priest wages fierce war with the sprites, and hunts them out of every +place. Yet he might leave them their dwelling in the oaks! What harm +can they do in the forest? Alas! no: from council to council they are +hunted down. On set days the priest will go even to the oak, and with +prayers and holy water drive away the spirits. + +How would it be if no kind soul took pity on them? This woman, +however, will take them under her care. She is an excellent Christian, +but will keep for them one corner of her heart. To them alone can she +entrust those little natural affairs, which, harmless as they are in a +chaste wife's dwelling, the Church at any rate would count as +blameworthy. They are the confidants, the confessors of these touching +womanly secrets. Of them she thinks, when she puts the holy log on the +fire. It is Christmastide; but also is it the ancient festival of the +Northern spirits, the _Feast of the Longest Night_. So, too, the Eve +of May-day is the _Pervigilium of Maia_, when the tree is planted. So, +too, with the Eve of St. John, the true feast-day of life, of flowers, +and newly-awakened love. She who has no children makes it her especial +duty to cherish these festivals, and to offer them a deep devotion. A +vow to the Virgin would perhaps be of little avail, it being no +concern of Mary's. In a low whisper, she prefers addressing some +ancient _genius_, worshipped in other days as a rustic deity, and +afterwards by the kindness of some local church transformed into a +saint.[22] And thus it happens that the bed, the cradle, all the +sweetest mysteries on which the chaste and loving soul can brood, +belong to the olden gods. + + [22] A. Maury, _Magie_, 159. + + * * * * * + +Nor are the sprites ungrateful. One day she awakes, and without having +stirred a finger, finds all her housekeeping done. In her amazement +she makes the sign of the cross and says nothing. When the good man +goes she questions herself, but in vain. It must have been a spirit. +"What can it be? How came it here? How I should like to see it! But I +am afraid: they say it is death to see a spirit."--Yet the cradle +moves and swings of itself. She is clasped by some one, and a voice so +soft, so low that she took it for her own, is heard saying, "Dearest +mistress, I love to rock your babe, because I am myself a babe." Her +heart beats, and yet she takes courage a little. The innocence of the +cradle gives this spirit also an innocent air, causing her to believe +it good, gentle, suffered at least by God. + +From that day forth she is no longer alone. She readily feels its +presence, and it is never far from her. It rubs her gown, and she +hears the grazing. It rambles momently about her, and plainly cannot +leave her side. If she goes to the stable, it is there; and she +believes that the other day it was in the churn.[23] + + [23] This is a favourite haunt of the little rogue's. To this + day the Swiss, knowing his tastes, make him a present of some + milk. His name among them is _troll_ (_drle_); among the + Germans _kobold_, _nix_. In France he is called _follet_, + _goblin_, _lutin_; in England, _Puck_, _Robin Goodfellow_. + Shakespeare says, he does sleepy servants the kindness to + pinch them black and blue, in order to rouse them. + +Pity she cannot take it up and look at it! Once, when she suddenly +touched the brands, she fancied she saw the tricksy little thing +tumbling about in the sparks; another time she missed catching it in a +rose. Small as it is, it works, sweeps, arranges, saves her a thousand +cares. + +It has its faults, however; is giddy, bold, and if she did not hold it +fast, might perhaps shake itself free. It observes and listens too +much. It repeats sometimes of a morning some little word she had +whispered very, very softly on going to bed, when the light was put +out. She knows it to be very indiscreet, exceedingly curious. She is +irked with feeling herself always followed about, complains of it, and +likes complaining. Sometimes, having threatened him and turned him +off, she feels herself quite at ease. But just then she finds herself +caressed by a light breathing, as it were a bird's wing. He was under +a leaf. He laughs: his gentle voice, free from mocking, declares the +joy he felt in taking his chaste young mistress by surprise. On her +making a show of great wrath, "No, my darling, my little pet," says +the monkey, "you are not a bit sorry to have me here." + +She feels ashamed and dares say nothing more. But she guesses now that +she loves him overmuch. She has scruples about it, and loves him yet +more. All night she seems to feel him creeping up to her bed. In her +fear she prays to God, and keeps close to her husband. What shall she +do? She has not the strength to tell the Church. She tells her +husband, who laughs at first incredulously. Then she owns to a little +more,--what a madcap the goblin is, sometimes even overbold. "What +matters? He is so small." Thus he himself sets her mind at ease. + +Should we too feel reassured, we who can see more clearly? She is +quite innocent still. She would shrink from copying the great lady up +there who, in the face of her husband, has her court of lovers and her +page. Let us own, however, that to that point the goblin has already +smoothed the way. One could not have a more perilous page than he who +hides himself under a rose; and, moreover, he smacks of the lover. +More intrusive than anyone else, he is so tiny that he can creep +anywhere. + +He glides even into the husband's heart, paying him court and winning +his good graces. He looks after his tools, works in his garden, and of +an evening, by way of reward, curls himself up in the chimney, behind +the babe and the cat. They hear his small voice, just like a +cricket's; but they never see much of him, save when a faint glimmer +lights a certain cranny in which he loves to stay. Then they see, or +think they see, a thin little face; and cry out, "Ah! little one, we +have seen you at last!" + +In church they are told to mistrust the spirits, for even one that +seems innocent, and glides about like a light breeze, may after all be +a devil. They take good care not to believe it. His size begets a +belief in his innocence. Whilst he is there, they thrive. The husband +holds to him as much as the wife, and perhaps more. He sees that the +tricksy little elf makes the fortune of the house. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +TEMPTATIONS. + + +I have kept this picture clear of those dreadful shadows of the hour +by which it would have been sadly overdarkened. I refer especially to +the uncertainty attending the lot of these rural households, to their +constant fear and foreboding of some casual outrage which might at any +moment descend on them from the castle. + +There were just two things which made the feudal rule a hell: on one +hand, its _exceeding steadfastness_, man being nailed, as it were, to +the ground, and emigration made impossible; on the other, a very great +degree of _uncertainty_ about his lot. + +The optimist historians who say so much about fixed rents, charters, +buying of immunities, forget how slightly all this was guaranteed. So +much you were bound to pay the lord, but all the rest he could take if +he chose; and this was very fitly called the _right of seizure_. You +may work and work away, my good fellow! But while you are in the +fields, yon dreaded band from the castle will fall upon your house and +carry off whatever they please "for their lord's service." + +Look again at that man standing with his head bowed gloomily over the +furrow! And thus he is always found, his face clouded, his heart +oppressed, as if he were expecting some evil news. Is he meditating +some wrongful deed? No; but there are two ideas haunting him, two +daggers piercing him in turn. The one is, "In what state shall I find +my house this evening?" The other, "Would that the turning up of this +sod might bring some treasure to light! O that the good spirit would +help to buy us free!" + +We are assured that, after the fashion of the Etruscan spirit which +one day started up from under the ploughshare in the form of a child, +a dwarf or gnome of the tiniest stature would sometimes on such an +appeal come forth from the ground, and, setting itself on the furrow, +would say, "What wantest thou?" But in his amazement the poor man +would ask for nothing; he would turn pale, cross himself, and +presently go quite away. + +Did he never feel sorry afterwards? Said he never to himself, "Fool +that you are, you will always be unlucky?" I readily believe he did; +but I also think that a barrier of dread invincible stopped him short. +I cannot believe with the monks who have told us all things concerning +witchcraft, that the treaty with Satan was the light invention of a +miser or a man in love. On the contrary, nature and good sense alike +inform us that it was only the last resource of an overwhelming +despair, under the weight of dreadful outrages and dreadful +sufferings. + + * * * * * + +But those great sufferings, we are told, must have been greatly +lightened about the time of St. Louis, who forbade private wars among +the nobles. My own opinion is quite the reverse. During the fourscore +or hundred years that elapsed between his prohibition and the wars +with England (1240-1340), the great lords being debarred from the +accustomed sport of burning and plundering their neighbours' lands, +became a terror to their own vassals. For the latter such a peace was +simply war. + +The spiritual, the monkish lords, and others, as shown in the _Journal +of Eudes Rigault_, lately published, make one shudder. It is a +repulsive picture of profligacy at once savage and uncontrolled. The +monkish lords especially assail the nunneries. The austere Rigault, +Archbishop of Rouen, confessor of the holy king, conducts a personal +inquiry into the state of Normandy. Every evening he comes to a +monastery. In all of them he finds the monks leading the life of great +feudal lords, wearing arms, getting drunk, fighting duels, keen +huntsmen over all the cultivated land; the nuns living among them in +wild confusion, and betraying everywhere the fruits of their shameless +deeds. + +If things are so in the Church, what must the lay lords have been? +What like was the inside of those dark towers which the folk below +regarded with so much horror? Two tales, undoubtedly historical, +namely, _Blue-Beard_ and _Griselda_, tell us something thereanent. To +his vassals, his serfs, what indeed must have been this devotee of +torture who treated his own family in such a way? He is known to us +through the only man who was brought to trial for such deeds; and that +not earlier than the fifteenth century,--Gilles de Retz, who kidnapped +children. + +Sir Walter Scott's Front de Boeuf, and the other lords of melodramas +and romances, are but poor creatures in the face of these dreadful +realities. The Templar also in _Ivanhoe_, is a weak artificial +conception. The author durst not assay the foul reality of celibate +life in the Temple, or within the castle walls. Few women were taken +in there, being accounted not worth their keep. The romances of +chivalry altogether belie the truth. It is remarkable, indeed, how +often the literature of an age expresses the very opposite of its +manners, as, for instance, the washy theatre of eclogues after +Florian,[24] during the years of the Great Terror. + + [24] A writer of eclogues, fables and dramas; in youth a + friend of Voltaire, afterwards imprisoned during the + Terror.--TRANS. + +The rooms in these castles, in such at least as may be seen to-day, +speak more plainly than any books. Men-at-arms, pages, footmen, +crammed together of nights under low-vaulted roofs, in the daytime +kept on the battlements, on narrow terraces, in a state of most +sickening weariness, lived only in their pranks down below; in feats +no longer of arms on the neighbouring domains, but of hunting, ay, and +hunting of men; insults, I may say, without number, outrages untold on +families of serfs. The lord himself well knew that such an army of +men, without women, could only be kept in order by letting them loose +from time to time. + +The awful idea of a hell wherein God employs the very guiltiest of the +wicked spirits to torture the less guilty delivered over to them for +their sport,--this lovely dogma of the Middle Ages was exemplified to +the last letter. Men felt that God was not among them. Each new raid +betokened more and more clearly the kingdom of Satan, until men came +to believe that thenceforth their prayers should be offered to him +alone. + +Up in the castle there was laughing and joking. "The women-serfs were +too ugly." There is no question raised as to their beauty. The great +pleasure lay in deeds of outrage, in striking and making them weep. +Even in the seventeenth century the great ladies died with laughing, +when the Duke of Lorraine told them how, in peaceful villages, his +people went about harrying and torturing all the women, even to the +old. + +These outrages fell most frequently, as we might suppose, on families +well to do and comparatively distinguished among the serfs; the +families, namely, of those serf-born mayors, who already in the +twelfth century appear at the head of the village. By the nobles they +were hated, jeered, cruelly plagued. Their newborn moral dignity was +not to be forgiven. Their wives and daughters were not allowed to be +good and wise: they had no right to be held in any respect. Their +honour was not their own. _Serfs of the body_, such was the cruel +phrase cast for ever in their teeth. + + * * * * * + +In days to come people will be slow to believe, that the law among +Christian nations went beyond anything decreed concerning the olden +slavery; that it wrote down as an actual right the most grievous +outrage that could ever wound man's heart. The lord spiritual had this +foul privilege no less than the lord temporal. In a parish outside +Bourges, the parson, as being a lord, expressly claimed the +firstfruits of the bride, but was willing to sell his rights to the +husband.[25] + + [25] Lauriere, ii. 100 (on the word _Marquette_). Michelet, + _Origines du Droit_, 264. + +It has been too readily believed that this wrong was formal, not real. +But the price laid down in certain countries for getting a +dispensation, exceeded the means of almost every peasant. In Scotland, +for instance, the demand was for "several cows:" a price immense, +impossible. So the poor young wife was at their mercy. Besides, the +Courts of Barn openly maintain that this right grew up naturally: +"The eldest-born of the peasant is accounted the son of his lord, for +he perchance it was who begat him."[26] + + [26] When I published my _Origines_ in 1837, I could not have + known this work, published in 1842. + +All feudal customs, even if we pass over this, compel the bride to go +up to the castle, bearing thither the "wedding-dish." Surely it was a +cruel thing to make her trust herself amongst such a pack of celibate +dogs, so shameless and so ungovernable. + +A shameful scene we may well imagine it to have been. As the young +husband is leading his bride to the castle, fancy the laughter of +cavaliers and footmen, the frolics of the pages around the wretched +poor! But the presence of the great lady herself will check them? Not +at all. The lady in whose delicate breeding the romances tell us to +believe,[27] but who, in her husband's absence, ruled his men, +judging, chastising, ordaining penalties, to whom her husband himself +was bound by the fiefs she brought him,--such a lady would be in no +wise merciful, especially towards a girl-serf who happened also to be +good-looking. Since, according to the custom of those days, she openly +kept her gentleman and her page, she would not be sorry to sanction +her own libertinism by that of her husband. + + [27] This delicacy appears in the treatment these ladies + inflicted on their poet Jean de Meung, author of the _Roman + de la Rose_. + +Nothing will she do to hinder the fun, the sport they are making out +of yon poor trembler who has come to redeem his bride. They begin by +bargaining with him; they laugh at the pangs endured by "the miserly +peasant;" they suck the very blood and marrow of him. Why all this +fury? Because he is neatly clad; is honest, settled; is a man of mark +in the village. Why, indeed? Because she is pious, chaste, and pure; +because she loves him; because she is frightened and falls a-weeping. +Her sweet eyes plead for pity. + +In vain does the poor wretch offer all he has, even to her dowry: it +is all too little. Angered at such cruel injustice, he will say +perhaps that "his neighbour paid nothing." The insolent fellow! he +would argue with us! Thereon they gather round him, a yelling mob: +sticks and brooms pelt upon him like hail. They jostle him, they throw +him down. "You jealous villain, you Lent-faced villain!" they cry; "no +one takes your wife from you; you shall have her back to-night, and to +enhance the honour done you ... your eldest child will be a baron!" +Everyone looks out of window at the absurd figure of this dead man in +wedding garments. He is followed by bursts of laughter, and the noisy +rabble, down to the lowest scullion, give chase to the "cuckold."[28] + + [28] The old tales are very sportive, but rather monotonous. + They turn on three jokes only: the despair of the _cuckold_, + the cries of the _beaten_, the wry faces of the _hanged_. The + first is amusing, the second laughable, the third, as crown + of all, makes people split their sides. And the three have + one point in common: it is the weak and helpless who is + ill-used. + + * * * * * + +The poor fellow would have burst, had he nothing to hope for from the +Devil. By himself he returns: is the house empty as well as desolate? +No, there is company waiting for him there: by the fireside sits +Satan. + +But soon his bride comes back, poor wretch, all pale and undone. Alas! +alas! for her condition. At his feet she throws herself and craves +forgiveness. Then, with a bursting heart, he flings his arms round her +neck. He weeps, he sobs, he roars, till the house shakes again. + +But with her comes back God. For all her suffering, she is pure, +innocent, holy still. Satan for that nonce will get no profit: the +treaty is not yet ripe. + +Our silly Fabliaux, our absurd tales, assume with regard to this +deadly outrage and all its further issues, that the woman sides with +her oppressors against her husband; they would have us believe that +her brutal treatment by the former makes her happy and transports her +with delight. A likely thing indeed! Doubtless she might be seduced by +rank, politeness, elegant manners. But no pains are ever taken to that +end. Great would be the scoffing at anyone who made true-love's wooing +towards a serf. The whole gang of men, to the chaplain, the butler, +even the footmen, would think they honoured her by deeds of outrage. +The smallest page thought himself a great lord, if he only seasoned +his love with insolence and blows. + + * * * * * + +One day, the poor woman, having just been ill-treated during her +husband's absence, begins weeping, and saying quite aloud, the while +she is tying up her long hair, "Ah, those unhappy saints of the woods, +what boots it to offer them my vows? Are they deaf, or have they grown +too old? Why have I not some protecting spirit, strong and +mighty--wicked even, if it need be? Some such I see in stone at the +church-door; but what do they there? Why do they not go to their +proper dwelling, the castle, to carry off and roast those sinners? Oh, +who is there will give me power and might? I would gladly give myself +in exchange. Ah, me, what is it I would give? What have I to give on +my side? Nothing is left me. Out on this body, out on this soul, a +mere cinder now! Why, instead of this useless goblin, have I not some +spirit, great, strong, and mighty, to help me?" + +"My darling mistress! If I am small, it is your fault; and bigger I +cannot grow. And besides, if I were very big, neither you nor your +husband would have borne with me. You would have driven me away with +your priests and your holy water. I can be strong, however, if you +please. For, mistress mine, the spirits in themselves are neither +great nor small, neither weak nor strong. For him who wishes it, the +smallest can become a giant." + +"In what way?" + +"Why, nothing can be simpler. To make him a giant, you must grant him +only one gift." + +"What is that?" + +"A lovely woman-soul." + +"Ah, wicked one! What then art thou, and what wouldst thou have?" + +"Only what you give me every day.... Would you be better than the lady +up yonder? She has pledged her soul to her husband and to her lover, +and yet she yields it whole to her page. I am more than a page to you, +more than a servant. In how many matters have I not been your little +handmaid! Do not blush, nor be angry. Let me only say, that I am all +about you, and already perhaps in you. Else, how could I know your +thoughts, even those which you hide from yourself? Who am I, then? +Your little soul, which speaks thus openly to the great one. We are +inseparable. Do you know how long I have been with you? Some thousand +years, for I belonged to your mother, to hers, to your ancestors. I am +the Spirit of the Fireside." + +"Tempter! What wilt thou do?" + +"Why, thy husband shall be rich, thyself mighty, and men shall fear +thee." + +"Where am I? Surely thou art the demon of hidden treasures!" + +"Why call me demon, if I do deeds of justice, of goodness, of piety? +God cannot be everywhere--He cannot be always working. Sometimes He +likes to rest, leaving us other spirits here to carry on the smaller +husbandry, to remedy the ills which his providence passed over, which +his justice forgot to handle. + +"Of this your husband is an example. Poor, deserving workman, he is +killing himself and gaining nought in return. Heaven has had no time +to look after him. But I, though rather jealous of him, still love my +kind host. I pity him: his strength is going, he can bear up no +longer. He will die, like your children, already dead of misery. This +winter he was ill; what will become of him the next?" + +Thereon, her face in her hands, she wept two, three hours, and even +more. And when she had poured out all her tears--her bosom still +throbbing hard--the other said, "I ask nothing: only, I pray, save +him." + +She had promised nothing, but from that hour she became his. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +POSSESSION. + + +A dreadful age was the age of gold; for thus do I call that hard time +when gold first came into use. This was in the year 1300, during the +reign of that Fair King[29] who never spake a word; the great king who +seemed to have a dumb devil, but a devil with mighty arm, strong +enough to burn the Temple, long enough to reach Rome, and with glove +of iron to deal the first good blow at the Pope. + + [29] Philip the Fair of France, who put down the Templar in + Paris, and first secured the liberties of the Gallican + Church.--TRANS. + +Gold thereupon becomes a great pope, a mighty god, and not without +cause. The movement began in Europe with the Crusades: the only wealth +men cared for was that which having wings could lend itself to their +enterprise; the wealth, namely, of swift exchanges. To strike blows +afar off the king wants nothing but gold. An army of gold, a fiscal +army, spreads over all the land. The lord, who has brought back with +him his dreams of the East, is always longing for its wonders, for +damascened armour, carpets, spices, valuable steeds. For all such +things he needs gold. He pushes away with his foot the serf who +brings him corn. "That is not all; I want gold!" + +On that day the world was changed. Theretofore in the midst of much +evil there had always been a harmless certainty about the tax. +According as the year was good or bad, the rent followed the course of +nature and the measure of the harvest. If the lord said, "This is +little," he was answered, "My lord, Heaven has granted us no more." + +But the gold, alas! where shall we find it? We have no army to seize +it in the towns of Flanders. Where shall we dig the ground to win him +his treasure? Oh, that the spirit of hidden treasures would be our +guide![30] + + [30] The devils trouble the world all through the Middle + Ages; but not before the thirteenth century does Satan put on + a settled shape. "_Compacts_," says M. Maury, "are very rare + before that epoch;" and I believe him. How could they treat + with one who as yet had no real existence? Neither of the + treating parties was yet ripe for the contract. Before the + will could be reduced to the dreadful pass of selling itself + for ever, it must be made thoroughly desperate. It is not the + unhappy who falls into despair, but the truly wretched, who + being quite conscious of his misery, and having yet more to + suffer, can find no escape therefrom. The wretched in this + way are the men of the fourteenth century, from whom they ask + a thing so impossible as payments in gold. In this and the + following chapter I have touched on the circumstances, the + feelings, the growing despair, which brought about the + enormity of _compacts_, and, worse still than these, the + dreadful character of the _Witch_. If the name was freely + used, the thing itself was then rare, being no less than a + marriage and a kind of priesthood. For ease of illustration, + I have joined together the details of so delicate a scrutiny + by a thread of fiction. The outward body of it matters + little. The essential point is to remember that such things + were not caused, as they try to persuade us, by _human + fickleness, by the inconstancy of our fallen nature, by the + chance persuasions of desire_. There was needed the deadly + pressure of an age of iron, of cruel needs: it was needful + that Hell itself should seem a shelter, an asylum, by + contrast with the hell below. + +While all are desperate, the woman with the goblin is already seated +on her sacks of corn in the little neighbouring village. She is alone, +the rest being still at their debate in the village. + +She sells at her own price. But even when the rest come up, everything +favours her, some strange magical allurement working on her side. No +one bargains with her. Her husband, before his time, brings his rent +in good sounding coin to the feudal elm. "Amazing!" they all say, "but +the Devil is in her!" + +They laugh, but she does not. She is sorrowful and afraid. In vain she +tries to pray that night. Strange prickings disturb her slumber. +Fantastic forms appear before her. The small gentle sprite seems to +have grown imperious. He waxes bold. She is uneasy, indignant, eager +to rise. In her sleep she groans, and feels herself dependent, saying, +"No more do I belong to myself!" + + * * * * * + +"Here is a sensible countryman," says the lord; "he pays beforehand! +You charm me: do you know accounts?"--"A little."--"Well then, you +shall reckon with these folk. Every Saturday you shall sit under the +elm and receive their money. On Sunday, before mass, you shall bring +it up to the castle." + +What a change in their condition! How the wife's heart beats when of a +Saturday she sees her poor workman, serf though he be, seated like a +lordling under the baronial shades. At first he feels giddy, but in +time accustoms himself to put on a grave air. It is no joking matter, +indeed; for the lord commands them to show him due respect. When he +has gone up to the castle, and the jealous ones look like laughing and +designing to pay him off, "You see that battlement," says the lord, +"the rope you don't see, but it is also ready. The first man who +touches him shall be set up there high and quick." + + * * * * * + +This speech is repeated from one to another; until it has spread +around these two as it were an atmosphere of terror. Everybody doffs +his hat to them, bowing very low indeed. But when they pass by, folk +stand aloof, and get out of the way. In order to shirk them they turn +up cross roads, with backs bended, with eyes turned carefully down. +Such a change makes them first savage, but afterwards sorrowful. They +walk alone through all the district. The wife's shrewdness marks the +hostile scorn of the castle, the trembling hate of those below. She +feels herself fearfully isolated between two perils. No one to defend +her but her lord, or rather the money they pay him: but then to find +that money, to spur on the peasant's slowness, and overcome his +sluggish antagonism, to snatch somewhat even from him who has nothing, +what hard pressure, what threats, what cruelty, must be employed! This +was never in the goodman's line of business. The wife brings him to +the mark by dint of much pushing: she says to him, "Be rough; at need +be cruel. Strike hard. Otherwise you will fall short of your +engagements; and then we are undone." + +This suffering by day, however, is a trifle in comparison with the +tortures of the night. She seems to have lost the power of sleeping. +She gets up, walks to and fro, and roams about the house. All is +still; and yet how the house is altered; its old innocence, its sweet +security all for ever gone! "Of what is that cat by the hearth +a-thinking, as she pretends to sleep, and 'tweenwhiles opens her green +eyes upon me? The she-goat with her long beard, looking so discreet +and ominous, knows more about it than she can tell. And yon cow which +the moon reveals by glimpses in her stall, why does she give me such a +sidelong look? All this is surely unnatural!" + +Shivering, she returns to her husband's side. "Happy man, how deep his +slumber! Mine is over; I cannot sleep, I never shall sleep again." In +time, however, she falls off. But oh, what suffering visits her then! +The importunate guest is beside her, demanding and giving his orders. +If one while she gets rid of him by praying or making the sign of the +cross, anon he returns under another form. "Get back, devil! What +durst thou? I am a Christian soul. No, thou shalt not touch me!" + +In revenge he puts on a hundred hideous forms; twining as an adder +about her bosom, dancing as a frog upon her stomach, anon like a bat, +sharp-snouted, covering her scared mouth with dreadful kisses. What is +it he wants? To drive her into a corner, so that conquered and crushed +at last, she may yield and utter the word "Yes." Still she is resolute +to say "No." Still she is bent on braving the cruel struggles of every +night, the endless martyrdom of that wasting strife. + + * * * * * + +"How far can a spirit make himself withal a body? What reality can +there be in his efforts and approaches? Would she be sinning in the +flesh, if she allowed the intrusions of one who was always roaming +about her? Would that be sheer adultery?" Such was the sly roundabout +way in which sometimes he stayed and weakened her resistance. "If I am +only a breath, a smoke, a thin air, as so many doctors call me, why +are you afraid, poor fearful soul, and how does it concern your +husband?" + +It is the painful doom of the soul in these Middle Ages, that a number +of questions which to us would seem idle, questions of pure +scholastics, disturb, frighten, and torment it, taking the guise of +visions, sometimes of devilish debatings, of cruel dialogues carried +on within. The Devil, fierce as he shows himself in the demoniacs, +remains always a spirit throughout the days of the Roman Empire, even +in the time of St. Martin or the fifth century. With the Barbarian +inroads he waxes barbarous, and takes to himself a body. So great a +body does he become, that he amuses himself in breaking with stones +the bell of the convent of St. Benedict. More and more fleshly is he +made to appear, by way of frightening the plunderers of ecclesiastical +goods. People are taught to believe that sinners will be tormented not +in the spirit only, but even bodily in the flesh; that they will +suffer material tortures, not those of ideal flames, but in very deed +such exquisite pangs as burning coals, gridirons, and red-hot spits +can awaken. + +This conception of the torturing devils inflicting material agonies on +the souls of the dead, was a mine of gold to the Church. The living, +pierced with grief and pity, asked themselves "if it were possible to +redeem these poor souls from one world to another; if to these, too, +might be applied such forms of expiation, by atonement and compromise, +as were practised upon earth?" This bridge between two worlds was +found in Cluny, which from its very birth, about 900, became at once +among the wealthiest of the monastic orders. + +So long as God Himself dealt out his punishments, _making heavy his +hand_, or striking _with the sword of the Angel_, according to the +grand old phrase, there was much less of horror; if his hand was heavy +as that of a judge, it was still the hand of a Father. The Angel who +struck remained pure and clean as his own sword. Far otherwise is it +when the execution is done by filthy demons, who resemble not the +angel that burned up Sodom, but the angel that first went forth +therefrom. In that place they stay, and their hell is a kind of Sodom, +wherein these spirits, fouler than the sinners yielded into their +charge, extract a horrible joy from the tortures they are inflicting. +Such was the teaching to be found in the simple carvings hung out at +the doors of churches. By these men learned the horrible lesson of the +pleasures of pain. On pretence of punishing, the devils wreaked upon +their victims the most outrageous whims. Truly an immoral and most +shameful idea was this, of a sham justice that befriended the worse +side, deepening its wickedness by the present of a plaything, and +corrupting the Demon himself! + + * * * * * + +Cruel times indeed! Think how dark and low a heaven it was, how +heavily it weighed on the head of man! Fancy the poor little children +from their earliest years imbued with such awful ideas, and trembling +within their cradles! Look at the pure innocent virgin believing +herself damned for the pleasure infused in her by the spirit! And the +wife in her marriage-bed tortured by his attacks, withstanding him, +and yet again feeling him within her!--a fearful feeling known to +those who have suffered from tnia. You feel in yourself a double +life; you trace the monster's movements, now boisterous, anon soft and +waving, and therein the more troublesome, as making you fancy yourself +on the sea. Then you rush off in wild dismay, terrified at yourself, +longing to escape, to die. + +Even at such times as the demon was not raging against her, the woman +into whom he had once forced his way would wander about as one +burdened with gloom. For thenceforth she had no remedy. He had taken +fast hold of her, like an impure steam. He is the Prince of the Air, +of storms, and not least of the storms within. All this may be seen +rudely but forcefully presented under the great doorway of Strasburg +Cathedral. Heading the band of _Foolish Virgins_, the wicked woman who +lures them on to destruction is filled, blown out by the Devil, who +overflows ignobly and passes out from under her skirts in a dark +stream of thick smoke. + +This blowing-out is a painful feature in the _possession_; at once her +punishment and her pride. This proud woman of Strasburg bears her +belly well before her, while her head is thrown far back. She triumphs +in her size, delights in being a monster. + +To this, however, the woman we are following has not yet come. But +already she is puffed up with him, and with her new and lofty lot. +The earth has ceased to bear her. Plump and comely in these better +days, she goes down the street with head upright, and merciless in her +scorn. She is feared, hated, admired. + +In look and bearing our village lady says, "I ought to be the great +lady herself. And what does she up yonder, the shameless sluggard, +amidst all those men, in the absence of her lord?" And now the rivalry +is set on foot. The village, while it loathes her, is proud thereat. +"If the lady of the castle is a baroness, our woman is a queen; and +more than a queen,--we dare not say what." Her beauty is a dreadful, a +fantastic beauty, killing in its pride and pain. The Demon himself is +in her eyes. + + * * * * * + +He has her and yet has her not. She is still _herself_, and preserves +_herself_. She belongs neither to the Demon nor to God. The Demon may +certainly invade her, may encompass her like a fine atmosphere. And +yet he has gained nothing at all; for he has no will thereto. She is +_possessed_, _bedevilled_, and she does not belong to the Devil. +Sometimes he uses her with dreadful cruelty, and yet gains nothing +thereby. He places a coal of fire on her breast, or within her bowels. +She jumps and writhes, but still says, "No, butcher, I will stay as I +am." + +"Take care! I will lash you with so cruel a scourge of vipers, I will +smite you with such a blow, that you will afterwards go weeping and +rending the air with your cries." + +The next night he will not come. In the morning--it was Sunday--her +husband went up to the castle. He came back all undone. The lord had +said: "A brook that flows drop by drop cannot turn the mill. You bring +me a halfpenny at a time, which is good for nought. I must set off in +a fortnight. The king marches towards Flanders, and I have not even a +war-horse, my own being lame ever since the tourney. Get ready for +business: I am in want of a hundred pounds." + +"But, my lord, where shall I find them?" + +"You may sack the whole village, if you will; I am about to give you +men enough. Tell your churls, if the money is not forthcoming they are +lost men; yourself especially--you shall die. I have had enough of +you: you have the heart of a woman; you are slack and sluggish. You +shall die--you shall pay for your cowardice, your effeminacy. Stay; it +makes but very small difference whether you go down now, or whether I +keep you here. This is Sunday: right loudly would the folk yonder +laugh to see you dangling your legs from my battlements." + +All this the unhappy man tells again to his wife; and preparing +hopelessly for death, commends his soul to God. She being just as +frightened, can neither lie down nor sleep. What is to be done? How +sorry she is now to have sent the spirit away! If he would but come +back! In the morning, when her husband rises, she sinks crushed upon +the bed. She has hardly done so, when she feels on her chest a heavy +weight. Gasping for breath, she is like to choke. The weight falls +lower till it presses on her stomach, and therewithal on her arms she +feels the grasp as of two steel hands. + +"You wanted me, and here I am. So, at last, stubborn one, I have your +soul--at last!" + +"But oh, sir, is it mine to give away? My poor husband! you used to +love him--you said so: you promised----" + +"Your husband! You forget. Are you sure your thoughts were always kept +upon him? Your soul! I ask for it as a favour; but it is already +mine." + +"No, sir," she says--her pride once more returning to her, even in so +dire a strait--"no, sir; that soul belongs to me, to my husband, to +our marriage rites." + +"Ah, incorrigible little fool! you would struggle still, even now that +you are under the goad! I have seen your soul at all hours; I know it +better than you yourself. Day by day did I mark your first +reluctances, your pains, and your fits of despair. I saw how +disheartened you were when, in a low tone, you said that no one could +be held to an impossibility. And then I saw you growing more resigned. +You were beaten a little, and you cried out not very loud. As for me, +I ask for your soul simply because you have already lost it. +Meanwhile, your husband is dying. What is to be done? I am sorry for +you: I have you in my power; but I want something more. You must +grant it frankly and of free will, or else he is a dead man." + +She answered very low, in her sleep, "Ah me! my body and my miserable +flesh, you may take them to save my husband; but my heart, never. No +one has ever had it, and I cannot give it away." + +So, all resignedly she waited there. And he flung at her two words: +"Keep them, and they will save you." Therewith she shuddered, felt +within her a horrible thrill of fire, and, uttering a loud cry, awoke +in the arms of her astonished husband, to drown him in a flood of +tears. + + * * * * * + +She tore herself away by force, and got up, fearing lest she should +forget those two important words. Her husband was alarmed; for, +without looking even at him, she darted on the wall a glance as +piercing as that of Medea. Never was she more handsome. In her dark +eye and the yellowish white around it played such a glimmer as one +durst not face--a glimmer like the sulphurous jet of a volcano. + +She walked straight to the town. The first word was "_Green_." Hanging +at a tradesman's door she beheld a green gown--the colour of the +Prince of the World--an old gown, which as she put it on became new +and glossy. Then she walked, without asking anyone, straight to the +door of a Jew, at which she knocked loudly. It was opened with great +caution. The poor Jew was sitting on the ground, covered over with +ashes. "My dear, I must have a hundred pounds." + +"Oh, madam, how am I to get them? The Prince-bishop of the town has +just had my teeth drawn to make me say where my gold lies.[31] Look at +my bleeding mouth." + + [31] This was a common way of extracting help from the Jews. + King John Lackland often tried it. + +"I know, I know; but I come to obtain from you the very means of +destroying your Bishop. When the Pope gets a cuffing, the Bishop will +not hold out long." + +"Who says so?" + +"_Toledo._"[32] + + [32] Toledo seems to have been the holy city of Wizards, who + in Spain were numberless. These relations with the civilized + Moors, with the Jews so learned and paramount in Spain, as + managers of the royal revenues, had given them a very high + degree of culture, and in Toledo they formed a kind of + University. In the sixteenth century, it was christianised, + remodelled, reduced to mere _white magic_. See the + _Deposition of the Wizard Achard, Lord of Beaumont, a + Physician of Poitou_. Lancre, _Incredulit_, p. 781. + +He hung his head. She spoke and blew: within her was her own soul and +the Devil to boot. A wondrous warmth filled the room: he himself was +aware of a kind of fiery fountain. "Madam," said he, looking at her +from under his eyes, "poor and ruined as I am, I had some pence still +in store to sustain my poor children." + +"You will not repent of it, Jew. I will swear to you the _great oath_ +that kills whoso breaks it. What you are about to give me, you shall +receive back in a week, at an early hour in the morning. This I swear +by your _great oath_ and by mine, which is yet greater: '_Toledo_.'" + + * * * * * + +A year went by. She had grown round and plump; had made herself one +mass of gold. Men were amazed at her power of charming. Every one +admired and obeyed her. By some devilish miracle the Jew had grown so +generous as to lend at the slightest signal. By herself she maintained +the castle, both through her own credit in the town, and through the +fear inspired in the village by her rough extortion. The all-powerful +green gown floated to and fro, ever newer and more beautiful. Her own +beauty grew, as it were, colossal with success and pride. Frightened +at a result so natural, everyone said, "At her time of life how tall +she grows!" + +Meanwhile we have some news: the lord is coming home. The lady, who +for a long time had not dared to come forth, lest she might meet the +face of this other woman down below, now mounted her white horse. +Surrounded by all her people, she goes to meet her husband; she stops +and salutes him. + +And, first of all, she says, "How long I have been looking for you! +Why did you leave your faithful wife so long a languishing widow? And +yet I will not take you in to-night, unless you grant me a boon." + +"Ask it, ask it, fair lady," says the gentleman laughing; "but make +haste, for I am eager to embrace you. How beautiful you have grown!" + +She whispered in his ear, so that no one knew what she said. Before +going up to the castle the worthy lord dismounts by the village +church, and goes in. Under the porch, at the head of the chief people, +he beholds a lady, to whom without knowing her he offers a low salute. +With matchless pride she bears high over the men's heads the towering +horned bonnet (_hennin_[33]) of the period; the triumphal cap of the +Devil, as it was often called, because of the two horns wherewith it +was embellished. The real lady, blushing at her eclipse, went out +looking very small. Anon she muttered, angrily, "There goes your serf. +It is all over: everything has changed places: the ass insults the +horse." + + [33] The absurd head-dress of the women, with its one and + often two horns sloping back from the head, in the fourteenth + century.--TRANS. + +As they are going off, a bold page, a pet of the lady's, draws from +his girdle a well-sharpened dagger, and with a single turn cleverly +cuts the fine robe along her loins.[34] The crowd was astonished, but +began to make it out when it saw the whole of the Baron's household +going off in pursuit of her. Swift and merciless about her whistled +and fell the strokes of the whip. She flies, but slowly, being already +grown somewhat heavy. She has hardly gone twenty paces when she +stumbles; her best friend having put a stone in her way to trip her +up. Amidst roars of laughter she sprawls yelling on the ground. But +the ruthless pages flog her up again. The noble handsome greyhounds +help in the chase and bite her in the tenderest places. At last, in +sad disorder, amidst the terrible crowd, she reaches the door of her +house. It is shut. There with hands and feet she beats away, crying, +"Quick, quick, my love, open the door for me!" There hung she, like +the hapless screech-owl whom they nail up on a farm-house door; and +still as hard as ever rained the blows. Within the house all is deaf. +Is the husband there? Or rather, being rich and frightened, does he +dread the crowd, lest they should sack his house? + + [34] Such cruel outrages were common in those days. By the + French and Anglo-Saxon laws, lewdness was thus punished. + Grimm, 679, 711. Sternhook, 19, 326. Ducange, iii. 52. + Michelet, _Origines_, 386, 389. By and by, the same rough + usage is dealt out to honest women, to citizen's wives, whose + pride the nobles seek to abase. We know the kind of ambush + into which the tyrant Hagenbach drew the honourable ladies of + the chief burghers in Alsace, probably in scorn of their rich + and royal costume, all silks and gold. In my _Origines_ I + have also related the strange claim made by the Lord of Pac, + in Anjou, on the pretty (and honest) women of the + neighbourhood. They were to bring to the castle fourpence and + a chaplet of flowers, and to dance with his officers: a + dangerous trip, in which they might well fear some such + affronts as those offered by Hagenbach. They were forced to + obey by the threat of being stripped and pricked with a goad + bearing the impress of the lord's arms. + +And now she has borne such misery, such strokes, such sounding +buffets, that she sinks down in a swoon. On the cold stone threshold +she finds herself seated, naked, half-dead, her bleeding flesh covered +with little else than the waves of her long hair. Some one from the +castle says, "No more now! We do not want her to die." + +They leave her alone, to hide herself. But in spirit she can see the +merriment going on at the castle. The lord however, somewhat dazed, +said that he was sorry for it. But the chaplain says, in his meek way, +"If this woman is _bedevilled_, as they say, my lord, you owe it to +your good vassals, you owe it to the whole country, to hand her over +to Holy Church. Since all that business with the Templars and the +Pope, what way the Demon is making! Nothing but fire will do for him." +Upon which a Dominican says, "Your reverence has spoken right well. +This devilry is a heresy in the highest degree. The bedevilled, like +the heretic, should be burnt. Some of our good fathers, however, do +not trust themselves now even to the fire. Wisely they desire that, +before all things, the soul may be slowly purged, tried, subdued by +fastings; that it may not be burnt in its pride, that it shall not +triumph at the stake. If you, madam, in the greatness of your piety, +of your charity, would take the trouble to work upon this woman, +putting her for some years _in pace_ in a safe cell, of which you +only should have the key,--by thus keeping up the chastening process +you might be doing good to her soul, shaming the Devil, and giving +herself up meek and humble into the hands of the Church." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE COVENANT. + + +Nothing was wanting but the victim. They knew that to bring this woman +before her was the most charming present she could receive. Tenderly +would she have acknowledged the devotion of anyone who would have +given her so great a token of his love, by delivering that poor +bleeding body into her hands. + +But the prey was aware of the hunters. A few minutes later and she +would have been carried off, to be for ever sealed up beneath the +stone. Wrapping herself in some rags found by chance in the stable, +she took to herself wings of some kind, and before midnight gained +some out-of-the-way spot on a lonely moor all covered with briars and +thistles. It was on the skirts of a wood, where by the uncertain light +she might gather a few acorns, to swallow them like a beast. Ages had +elapsed since evening; she was utterly changed. Beauty and queen of +the village no more, she seemed with the change in her spirit to have +changed her postures also. Among her acorns she squatted like a boar +or a monkey. Thoughts far from human circled within her as she heard, +or seemed to hear the hooting of an owl, followed by a burst of +shrill laughter. She felt afraid, but perhaps it was the merry +mockbird mimicking all those sounds, according to its wonted fashion. + +But the laughter begins again: whence comes it? She can see nothing. +Apparently it comes from an old oak. Distinctly, however, she hears +these words: "So, here you are at last! You have come with an ill +grace; nor would you have come now, if you had not tried the full +depth of your last need. You were fain first to run the gauntlet of +whips; to cry out and plead for mercy, haughty as you were; to be +mocked, undone, forsaken, unsheltered even by your husband. Where +would you have been this night, if I had not been charitable enough to +show you the _in pace_ getting ready for you in the tower? Late, very +late, you are in coming to me, and only after they have called you the +_old woman_. In your youth you did not treat me well, when I was your +wee goblin, so eager to serve you. Now take your turn, if so I wish +it, to serve me and kiss my feet. + +"You were mine from birth through your inborn wickedness, through +those devilish charms of yours. I was your lover, your husband. Your +own has shut his door against you: I will not shut mine. I welcome you +to my domains, my free prairies, my woods. How am I the gainer, you +may say? Could I not long since have had you at any hour? Were you +not invaded, possessed, filled with my flame? I changed your blood +and renewed it: not a vein in your body where I do not flow. You know +not yourself how utterly you are mine. But our wedding has yet to be +celebrated with all the forms. I have some manners, and feel rather +scrupulous. Let us be one for everlasting." + +"Oh! sir, in my present state, what should I say? For a long, long +while back have I felt, too truly felt, that you were all my fate. +With evil intent you caressed me, loaded me with favours, and made me +rich, in order at length to cast me down. Yesterday, when the black +greyhound bit my poor naked flesh, its teeth scorched me, and I said, +''Tis he!' At night when that daughter of Herodias with her foul +language scared the company, somebody put them up to the promising her +my blood; and that was you!" + +"True; but 'twas I who saved you and brought you hither. I did +everything, as you have guessed. I ruined you, and why? That I might +have you all to myself. To speak frankly, I was tired of your husband. +You took to haggling and pettifogging: far otherwise do I go to work; +I want all or none. This is why I have moulded and drilled you, +polished and ripened you, for my own behoof. Such, you see, is my +delicacy of taste. I don't take, as people imagine, those foolish +souls who would give themselves up at once. I prefer the choicer +spirits, who have reached a certain dainty stage of fury and despair. +Stop: I must let you know how pleasant you look at this moment. You +are a great beauty, a most desirable soul. I have loved you ever so +long, but now I am hungering for you. + +"I will do things on a large scale, not being one of those husbands +who reckon with their betrothed. If you wanted only riches, you should +have them in a trice. If you wanted to be queen in the stead of Joan +of Navarre, that too, though difficult, should be done, and the King +would not lose much thereby in the matter of pride and haughtiness. My +wife is greater than a queen. But, come, tell me what you wish." + +"Sir, I ask only for the power of doing evil." + +"A delightful answer, very delightful! Have I not cause to love you? +In reality those words contain all the law and all the prophets. Since +you have made so good a choice, all the rest shall be thrown in, over +and above. You shall learn all my secrets. You shall see into the +depths of the earth. The whole world shall come and pour out gold at +thy feet. See here, my bride, I give you the true diamond, +_Vengeance_. I know you, rogue; I know your most hidden desires. Ay, +our hearts on that point understand each other well! Therein at least +shall I have full possession of you. You shall behold your enemy on +her knees at your feet, begging and praying for mercy, and only too +happy to earn her release by doing whatever she has made you do. She +will burst into tears; and you will graciously say, _No_: whereon she +will cry, 'Death and damnation!' ... Come, I will make this my special +business." + +"Sir, I am at your service. I was thankless indeed, for you have +always heaped favours on me. I am yours, my master, my god! None other +do I desire. Sweet are your endearments, and very mild your service." + +And so she worships him, tumbling on all-fours. At first she pays him, +after the forms of the Temple, such homage as betokens the utter +abandonment of the will. Her master, the Prince of this World, the +Prince of the Winds, breathes upon her in his turn, like an eager +spirit. She receives at once the three sacraments, in reverse +order--baptism, priesthood, and marriage. In this new Church, the +exact opposite of the other, everything must be done the wrong way. +Meekly, patiently, she endures the cruel initiation,[35] borne up by +that one word, "Vengeance!" + + [35] This will be explained further on. We must guard against + the pedantic additions of the sixteenth century writers. + + * * * * * + +Far from being crushed or weakened by the infernal thunderbolt, she +arose with an awful vigour and flashing eyes. The moon, which for a +moment had chastely covered herself, took flight on seeing her again. +Blown out to an amazing degree by the hellish vapour, filled with +fire, with fury, and with some new ineffable desire, she grew for a +while enormous with excess of fulness, and displayed a terrible +beauty. She looked around her, and all nature was changed. The trees +had gotten a tongue, and told of things gone by. The herbs became +simples. The plants which yesterday she trod upon as so much hay, were +now as people discoursing on the art of medicine. + +She awoke on the morrow far, very far, from her enemies, in a state of +thorough security. She had been sought after, but they had only found +some scattered shreds of her unlucky green gown. Had she in her +despair flung herself headlong into the torrent? Or had she been +carried off alive by the Devil? No one could tell. Either way she was +certainly damned, which greatly consoled the lady for having failed to +find her. + +Had they seen her they would hardly have known her again, she was so +changed. Only the eyes remained, not brilliant, but armed with a very +strange and a rather deterring glimmer. She herself was afraid of +frightening: she never lowered them, but looked sideways, so that the +full force of their beams might be lost by slanting them. From the +sudden browning of her hue people would have said that she had passed +through the flame. But the more watchful felt that the flame was +rather in herself, that she bore about her an impure and scorching +heat. The fiery dart with which Satan had pierced her was still +there, and, as through a baleful lamp, shot forth a wild, but +fearfully witching sheen. Shrinking from her, you would yet stand +still, with a strange trouble filling your every sense. + +She saw herself at the mouth of one of those troglodyte caves, such as +you find without number in the hills of the Centre and the West of +France. It was in the borderland, then wild, between the country of +Merlin and the country of Melusina. Some moors stretching out of sight +still bear witness to the ancient wars, the unceasing havoc, the many +horrors, which prevented the country being peopled again. There the +Devil was in his home. Of the few inhabitants most were his zealous +worshippers. Whatever attractions he might have found in the rough +brakes of Lorraine, the black pine-forests of the Jura, or the briny +deserts of Burgos, his preferences lay, perhaps, in our western +marches. There might be found not only the visionary shepherd, that +Satanic union of the goat and the goatherd, but also a closer +conspiracy with nature, a deeper insight into remedies and poisons, a +mysterious connection, whose links we know not, with Toledo the +learned, the University of the Devil. + +The winter was setting in: its breath having first stripped the trees, +had heaped together the leaves and small boughs of dead wood. All this +she found prepared for her at the mouth of her gloomy den. By a wood +and moor, half a mile across, you came down within reach of some +villages, which had grown up beside a watercourse. "Behold your +kingdom!" said the voice within her. "To-day a beggar, to-morrow you +shall be queen of the whole land." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE KING OF THE DEAD. + + +At first she was not much affected by promises like these. A lonely +hermitage without God, amidst the great monotonous breezes of the +West, amidst memories all the more ruthless for that mighty solitude, +of such heavy losses, such sharp affronts; a widowhood so hard and +sudden, away from the husband who had left her to her shame--all this +was enough to bow her down. Plaything of fate, she seemed like the +wretched weed upon the moor, having no root, but tossed to and fro, +lashed and cruelly cut by the north-east winds; or rather, perhaps, +like the grey, many-cornered coral, which only sticks fast to get more +easily broken. The children trampled on her; the people said, with a +laugh, "She is the bride of the winds." + +Wildly she laughed at herself when she thought on the comparison. But, +from the depth of her dark cave, she heard,-- + +"Ignorant and witless, you know not what you say. The plant thus +tossing to and fro may well look down upon the rank and vulgar herbs. +If it tosses, it is, at least, all self-contained--itself both flower +and seed. Do thou be like it; be thine own root, and even in the +whirlwind thou wilt still bear thy blossom: our own flowers for +ourselves, as they come forth from the dust of tombs and the ashes of +volcanoes. + +"To thee, first flower of Satan, do I this day grant the knowledge of +my former name, my olden power. I was, I am, the _King of the Dead_. +Ay, have I not been sadly slandered? 'Tis I who alone can make them +reappear; a boon untold, for which I surely deserved an altar." + + * * * * * + +To pierce the future and to call up the past, to forestal and to live +again the swift-flying moments, to enlarge the present with that which +has been and that which will be--these are the two things forbidden to +the Middle Ages; but forbidden in vain. Nature is invincible; nothing +can be gained in such a quarter. He who thus errs is _a man_. It is +not for him to be rooted to his furrow, with eyes cast down, looking +nowhere beyond the steps he takes behind his oxen. No: we will go +forward with head upraised, looking further and looking deeper! This +earth that we measure out with so much care, we kick our feet upon +withal, and keep ever saying to it, "What dost thou hold in thy +bowels? What secrets lie therein? Thou givest us back the grain we +entrust to thee; but not that human seed, those beloved dead, we have +lent into thy charge. Our friends, our loves, that lie there, will +they never bud again? Oh, that we might see them, if only for one +hour, if only for one moment! + +"Some day we ourselves shall reach the unknown land, whither they have +already gone. But shall we see them again there? Shall we dwell with +them? Where are they, and what are they doing? They must be kept very +close prisoners, these dear dead of mine, to give me not one token! +And how can I make them hear me? My father, too, whose only hope I +was, who loved me with so mighty a love, why comes he never to me? Ah, +me! on either side is bondage, imprisonment, mutual ignorance; a +dismal night, where we look in vain for one glimmer!"[36] + + [36] The glimmer shines forth in Dumesnil's _Immortalit_, + and _La Foi Nouvelle_, in the _Ciel et Terre_ of Reynaud, + Henry Martin, &c. + +These everlasting thoughts of Nature, from having in olden times been +simply mournful, became in the Middle Ages painful, bitter, weakening, +and the heart thereby grew smaller. It seems as if they had reckoned +on flattening the soul, on pressing and squeezing it down to the +compass of a bier. The burial of the serf between four deal boards was +well suited to such an end: it haunted one with the notion of being +smothered. A person thus enclosed, if ever he returned in one's +dreams, would no longer appear as a thin luminous shadow encircled by +a halo of Elysium, but only as the wretched sport of some hellish +griffin-cat. What a hateful and impious idea, that my good, kind +father, my mother so revered by all, should become the plaything of +such a beast! You may laugh now, but for a thousand years it was no +laughing matter: they wept bitterly. And even now the heart swells +with wrath, the very pen grates angrily upon the paper, as one writes +down these blasphemous doings. + + * * * * * + +Moreover, it was surely a cruel device to transfer the Festival of the +Dead from the Spring, where antiquity had placed it, to November. In +May, where it fell at first, they were buried among the flowers. In +March, wherein it was afterwards placed, it became the signal for +labour and the lark. The dead and the seed of corn entered the earth +together with the same hope. But in November, when all the work is +done, the weather close and gloomy for many days to come; when the +folk return to their homes; when a man, re-seating himself by the +hearth, looks across on that place for evermore empty--ah, me! at such +a time how great the sorrow grows! Clearly, in choosing a moment +already in itself so funereal, for the obsequies of Nature, they +feared that a man would not find cause enough of sorrow in himself! + +The coolest, the busiest of men, however taken up they be with life's +distracting cares, have, at least, their sadder moments. In the dark +wintry morning, in the night that comes on so swift to swallow us up +in its shadow, ten years, nay, twenty years hence, strange feeble +voices will rise up in your heart: "Good morning, dear friend, 'tis +we! You are alive, are working as hard as ever. So much the better! +You do not feel our loss so heavily, and you have learned to do +without us; but we cannot, we never can, do without you. The ranks are +closed, the gap is all but filled. The house that was ours is full, +and we have blessed it. All is well, is better than when your father +carried you about; better than when your little girl said, in her +turn, to you, 'Papa, carry me.' But, lo! you are in tears. Enough, +till we meet again!" + +Alas, and are they gone? That wail was sweet and piercing: but was it +just? No. Let me forget myself a thousand times rather than I should +forget them! And yet, cost what it will to say so, say it we must, +that certain traces are fading off, are already less clear to see; +that certain features are not indeed effaced, but grown paler and more +dim. A hard, a bitter, a humbling thought it is, to find oneself so +weak and fleeting, wavering as unremembered water; to feel that in +time one loses that treasure of grief which one had hoped to preserve +for ever. Give it me back, I pray: I am too much bounden to so rich a +fountain of tears. Trace me again, I implore you, those features I +love so well. Could you not help me at least to dream of them by +night? + + * * * * * + +More than one such prayer is spoken in the month of November. And +amidst the striking of the bells and the dropping of the leaves, they +clear out of church, saying one to another in low tones: "I say, +neighbour; up there lives a woman of whom folk speak well and ill. +For myself, I dare say nothing; but she has power over the world +below. She calls up the dead, and they come. Oh, if she might--without +sin, you know, without angering God--make my friends come to me! I am +alone, as you must know, and have lost everything in this world. But +who knows what this woman is, whether of hell or heaven? I won't go +(he is dying of curiosity all the while); I won't. I have no wish to +endanger my soul: besides, the wood yonder is haunted. Many's the time +that things unfit to see have been found on the moor. Haven't you +heard about Jacqueline, who was there one evening looking for one of +her sheep? Well, when she returned, she was crazy. I won't go." + +Thus unknown to each other, many of the men at least went thither. For +as yet the women hardly dared so great a risk. They remark the dangers +of the road, ask many questions of those who return therefrom. The new +Pythoness is not like her of Endor, who raised up Samuel at the prayer +of Saul. Instead of showing you the ghosts, she gives you cabalistic +words and powerful potions to bring them back in your dreams. Ah, how +many a sorrow has recourse to these! The grandmother herself, +tottering with her eighty years, would behold her grandson again. By +an unwonted effort, yet not without a pang of shame at sinning on the +edge of the grave, she drags herself to the spot. She is troubled by +the savage look of a place all rough with yews and thorns, by the +rude, dark beauty of that relentless Proserpine. Prostrate, +trembling, grovelling on the ground, the poor old woman weeps and +prays. Answer there is none. But when she dares to lift herself up a +little, she sees that Hell itself has been a-weeping. + + * * * * * + +It is simply Nature recovering herself. Proserpine blushes +self-indignantly thereat. "Degenerate soul!" she calls herself, "why +this weakness? You came hither with the firm desire of doing nought +but evil. Is this your master's lesson? How he will laugh at you for +this!" + +"Nay! Am I not the great shepherd of the shades, making them come and +go, opening unto them the gate of dreams? Your Dante, when he drew my +likeness, forgot my attributes. When he gave me that useless tail, he +did not see that I held the shepherd's staff of Osiris; that from +Mercury I had inherited his caduceus. In vain have they thought to +build up an insurmountable wall between the two worlds; I have wings +to my heels, I have flown over. By a kindly rebellion of that +slandered Spirit, of that ruthless monster, succour has been given to +those who mourned; mothers, lovers, have found comfort. He has taken +pity on them in defiance of their new god." + +The scribes of the Middle Ages, being all of the priestly class, never +cared to acknowledge the deep but silent changes of the popular mind. +It is clear that from thenceforth compassion goes over to Satan's +side. The Virgin herself, ideal as she is of grace, makes no answer +to such a want of the heart. Neither does the Church, who expressly +forbids the calling up of the dead. While all books delight in keeping +up either the swinish demon of earlier times, or the griffin butcher +of the second period, Satan has changed his shape for those who cannot +write. He retains somewhat of the ancient Pluto; but his pale nor +wholly ruthless majesty, that permitted the dead to come back, the +living once more to see the dead, passes ever more and more into the +nature of his father, or his grandfather, Osiris, the shepherd of +souls. + +Through this one change come many others. Men with their mouths +acknowledge the hell official and the boiling caldrons; but in their +hearts do they truly believe therein? Would it be so easy to win these +infernal favours for hearts beset with hateful traditions of a hell of +torments? The one idea neutralizes without wholly effacing the other, +and between them grows up a vague mixed image, resembling more and +more nearly the hell of Virgil. A mighty solace was here offered to +the human heart. Blessed above all was the relief thus given to the +poor women, whom that dreadful dogma about the punishment of their +loved dead had kept drowned in tears and inconsolable. The whole of +their lifetime had been but one long sigh. + + * * * * * + +The Sibyl was musing over her master's words, when a very light step +became audible. The day has scarcely dawned: it is after Christmas, +about the first day of the new year. Over the crisp and rimy grass +approaches a small, fair woman, all a-trembling, who has no sooner +reached the spot, than she swoons and loses her breath. Her black gown +tells plainly of her widowhood. To the piercing gaze of Medea, without +moving or speaking, she reveals all: there is no mystery about her +shrinking figure. The other says to her with a loud voice: "You need +not tell me, little dumb creature, for you would never get to the end +of it. I will speak for you. Well, you are dying of love!" Recovering +a little, she clasps her hands together, and sinking almost on her +knees, tells everything, making a full confession. She had suffered, +wept, prayed, and would have silently suffered on. But these winter +feasts, these family re-unions, the ill-concealed happiness of other +women who, without pity for her, showed off their lawful loves, had +driven the burning arrow again into her heart. Alas, what could she +do? If he might but return and comfort her for one moment! "Be it even +at the cost of my life; let me die, but only let me see him once +more!" + +"Go back to your house: shut the door carefully: put up the shutter +even against any curious neighbour. Throw off your mourning, and put +on your wedding-clothes; place a cover for him on the table; but yet +he will not come. You will sing the song he made for you, and sang to +you so often, but yet he will not come. Then you shall draw out of +your box the last dress he wore, and, kissing it, say, 'So much the +worse for thee if thou wilt not come!' And presently when you have +drunk this wine, bitter, but very sleepful, you will lie down as a +wedded bride. Then assuredly he will come to you." + +The little creature would have been no woman, if next morning she had +not shown her joy and tenderness by owning the miracle in whispers to +her best friend. "Say nought of it, I beg. But he himself told me, +that if I wore this gown and slept a deep sleep every Sunday, he would +return." + +A happiness not without some danger. Where would the rash woman be, if +the Church learned that she was no longer a widow; that re-awakened by +her love, the spirit came to console her? + +But strange to tell, the secret is kept. There is an understanding +among them all, to hide so sweet a mystery. For who has no concern +therein? Who has not lost and mourned? Who would not gladly see this +bridge created between two worlds? "O thou beneficent Witch! Blessed +be thou, spirit of the nether world!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE PRINCE OF NATURE. + + +Hard is the long sad winter of the North-west. Even after its +departure it renews its visits, like a drowsy sorrow which ever and +again comes back and rages afresh. One morning everything wakes up +decked with bright needles. In this cruel mocking splendour that makes +one shiver through and through, the whole vegetable world seems turned +mineral, loses its sweet diversity, and freezes into a mass of rough +crystals. + +The poor Sibyl, as she sits benumbed by her hearth of leaves, scourged +by the flaying north-east winds, feels at her heart a cruel pang, for +she feels herself all alone. But that very thought again brings her +relief. With returning pride returns a vigour that warms her heart and +lights up her soul. Intent, quick, and sharp, her sight becomes as +piercing as those needles; and the world, the cruel world that caused +her suffering, is to her transparent as glass. Anon she rejoices over +it, as over a conquest of her making. + +For is she not a queen, a queen with courtiers of her own? The crows +have clearly some connection with her. In grave, dignified body they +come like ancient augurs, to talk to her of passing things. The +wolves passing by salute her timidly with sidelong glances. The bear, +then oftener seen than now, would sometimes, in his heavily +good-natured way, seat himself awkwardly at the threshold of her den, +like a hermit calling on a fellow-hermit, just as we often see him in +the Lives of the Desert Fathers. + +All those birds and beasts with whom men only made acquaintance in +hunting or slaying them, were outlawed as much as she. With all these +she comes to an understanding; for Satan as the chief outlaw, imparts +to his own the pleasures of natural freedom, the wild delight of +living in a world sufficient unto itself. + + * * * * * + +Rough freedom of loneliness, all hail! The whole earth seems still +clothed in a white shroud, held in bondage by a load of ice, of +pitiless crystals, so uniform, sharp, and agonizing. After the year +1200 especially, the world is shut in like a transparent tomb, wherein +all things look terribly motionless, hard, and stiff. + +The Gothic Church has been called a "crystallization;" and so it truly +is. About 1300, architecture gave up all its old variety of form and +living fancies, to repeat itself for evermore, to vie with the +monotonous prisms of Spitzbergen, to become the true and awful +likeness of that hard crystal city, in which a dreadful dogma thought +to bury all life away. + +But for all the props, buttresses, flying-buttresses, that keep the +monument up, one thing there is that makes it totter. There is no loud +battering from without, but a certain softness in the very +foundations, which attacks the crystal with an imperceptible thaw. +What thing do I mean? The humble stream of warm tears shed by a whole +world, until they have become a very sea of wailings. What do I call +it? A breath of the future, a stirring of the natural life, which +shall presently rise again in irresistible might. The fantastic +building of which more than one side is already sinking, says, not +without terror, to itself, "It is the breath of Satan." + +Beneath this Hecla-glacier lies a volcano which has no need of +bursting out; a mild, slow, gentle heat, which caresses it from below, +and, calling it nearer, says in a whisper, "Come down." + + * * * * * + +The Witch has something to laugh at, if from the gloom she can see how +utterly Dante and St. Thomas,[37] in the bright light yonder, ignore +the true position of things. They fancy that the Devil wins his way by +cunning or by terror. They make him grotesque and coarse, as in his +childhood, when Jesus could still send him into the herd of swine. Or +else they make him subtle as a logician of the schools, or a +fault-finding lawyer. If he had been no better than this compound of +beast and disputant,--if he had only lived in the mire or on +fine-drawn quibbles about nothing, he would very soon have died of +hunger. + + [37] St. Thomas Aquinas, the "Angelic Doctor," who died in + 1274.--TRANS. + +People were too ready to crow over him, when he was shewn by +Bartolus[38] pleading against the woman--that is, the Virgin--who gets +him nonsuited and condemned with costs. At that time, indeed, the very +contrary was happening on earth. By a master-stroke of his he had won +over the plaintiff herself, his fair antagonist, the Woman; had +seduced her, not indeed by verbal pleadings, but by arguments not less +real than they were charming and irresistible. He put into her hands +the fruits of science and of nature. + + [38] Bartolus or Bartoli, a lawyer and law-writer of the + fourteenth century.--TRANS. + +No need for controversies, for pleas of any kind: he simply shows +himself. In the East, the new-found Paradise, he begins to work. From +that Asian world, which men had thought to destroy, there springs +forth a peerless day-dawn, whose beams travel afar until they pierce +the deep winter of the West. There dawns on us a world of nature and +of art, accursed of the ignorant indeed, but now at length come +forward to vanquish its late victors in a pleasant war of love and +motherly endearments. All are conquered, all rave about it; they will +have nothing but Asia herself. With her hands full she comes to meet +us. Her tissues, shawls, her carpets so agreeably soft, so wondrously +harmonized, her bright and well-wrought blades, her richly damascened +arms, make us aware of our own barbarism. Moreover, little as that may +seem, these accursed lands of the "miscreant," ruled by Satan, are +visibly blessed with the fairest fruits of nature, that elixir of the +powers of God; with _the first of vegetables_, coffee; with _the first +of beasts_, the Arab horse. What am I saying?--with a whole world of +treasures, silk, sugar, and a host of herbs all-powerful to relieve +the heart, to soothe and lighten our sufferings. + +All this breaks upon our view about the year 1300. Spain herself, +whose brain is wholly fashioned out of Moors and Jews, for all that +she is again subdued by the barbarous children of the Goth, bears +witness in behalf of those _miscreants_. Wherever the Mussulman +children of the Devil are at work, all is prosperous, the springs well +forth, the ground is covered with flowers. A right worthy and harmless +travail decks it with those wondrous vineyards, through which men +recruit themselves, drowning all care, and seeming to drink in +draughts of very goodness and heavenly compassion. + + * * * * * + +To whom does Satan bring the foaming cup of life? In this fasting +world, which has so long been fasting from reason, what man was there +strong enough to take all this in without growing giddy, without +getting drunken and risking the loss of his wits? + +Is there yet a brain so far from being petrified or crystallized by +the teaching of St. Thomas, as to remain open to the living world, to +its vegetative forces? Three magicians, Albert the Great, Roger Bacon, +Arnaud of Villeneuve,[39] by strong efforts make their way to Nature's +secrets; but those lusty intellects lack flexibility and popular +power. Satan falls back on his own Eve. The woman is still the most +natural thing in the world; still keeps her hold on those traits of +roguish innocence one sees in a kitten or a child of very high spirit. +Besides, she figures much better in that world-comedy, that mighty +game wherewith the universal Proteus disports himself. + + [39] Three eminent schoolmen of the thirteenth century, whose + scientific researches pointed the way to future + discoveries.--TRANS. + +But being light and changeful, she is all the less liable to be carked +and hardened by pain! This woman, whom we have seen outlawed from the +world, and rooted on her wild moor, affords a case in point. Have we +yet to learn whether, bruised and soured as she is, with her heart +full of hate, she will re-enter the natural world and the pleasant +paths of life? Assuredly her return thither will not find her in good +tune, will happen mainly through a round of ill. In the coming and +going of the storm she is all the more scared and violent for being so +very weak. + +When in the mild warmth of spring, from the air, the depths of the +earth, from the flowers and their languages, a new revelation rises +round her on every side, she is taken dizzy at the first. Her +swelling bosom overflows. The Sibyl of science has her tortures, like +her of Cum or of Delphi. The schoolmen find their fun in saying, "It +is the wind and nought else that blows her out. Her lover, the Prince +of the Air, fills her with dreams and delusions, with wind, with +smoke, with emptiness." Foolish irony! So far from this being the true +cause of her drunkenness, it is nothing empty, it is a real, a +substantial thing, which has loaded her bosom all too quickly. + + * * * * * + +Have you ever seen the agave, that hard wild African shrub, so sharp, +bitter, and tearing, with huge bristles instead of leaves? Ten years +through it loves and dies. At length one day the amorous shoot, which +has so long been gathering in the rough thing, goes off with a noise +like gunfire, and darts skyward. And this shoot becomes a whole tree, +not less than thirty feet high, and bristling with sad flowers. + +Some such analogy does the gloomy Sibyl feel, when one morning of a +spring-time, late in coming, and therefore impetuous at the last, +there takes place all around her a vast explosion of life. + +And all things look at her, and all things bloom for her. For every +thing that has life says softly, "Whoso understands me, I am his." + +What a contrast! Here is the wife of the desert and of despair, bred +up in hate and vengeance, and lo! all these innocent things agree to +smile upon her! The trees, soothed by the south wind, pay her gentle +homage. Each herb of the field, with its own special virtue of scent, +or remedy, or poison--very often the three things are one--offers +itself to her, saying, "Gather me." + +All things are clearly in love. "Are they not mocking me? I had been +readier for hell than for this strange festival. O spirit, art thou +indeed that spirit of dread whom once I knew, the traces of whose +cruelty I bear about me--what am I saying, and where are my +senses?--the wound of whose dealing scorches me still? + +"Ah, no! 'Tis not the spirit whom I hoped for in my rage; '_he who +always says, No!_' This other one utters a yes of love, of drunken +dizziness. What ails him? Is he the mad, the dazed soul of life? + +"They spoke of the great Pan as dead. But here he is in the guise of +Bacchus, of Priapus, eager with long-delayed desire, threatening, +scorching, teeming. No, no! Be this cup far from me! Trouble only +should I drink from it,--who knows? A despair yet sharper than my past +despairs." + +Meanwhile wherever the woman appears, she becomes the one great object +of love. She is followed by all, and for her sake all despise their +own proper kind. What they say about the black he-goat, her pretended +favourite, may be applied to all. The horse neighs for her, breaking +everything and putting her in danger. The awful king of the prairie, +the black bull, bellows with grief, should she pass him by at a +distance. And, behold, yon bird despondingly turns away from his hen, +and with whirring wings hastes to convince the woman of his love! + +Such is the new tyranny of her master, who, by the funniest hap of +all, foregoes the part accredited to him as king of the dead, to burst +forth a very king of life. + +"No!" she says; "leave me to my hatred: I ask for nothing more. Let me +be feared and fearful! The beauty I would have, is only that which +dwells in these black serpents of my hair, in this countenance +furrowed with grief, and the scars of thy thunderbolt." But the Lord +of Evil replies with cunning softness: "Oh, but you are only the more +beautiful, the more impressible, for this fiery rage of yours! Ay, +call out and curse on, beneath one and the same goad! 'Tis but one +storm calling another. Swift and smooth is the passage from wrath to +pleasure." + +Neither her fury nor her pride would have saved her from such +allurements. But she is saved by the boundlessness of her desire. +There is nought will satisfy her. Each kind of life for her is all too +bounded, wanting in power. Away from her, steed and bull and loving +bird! Away, ye creatures all! for one who desires the Infinite, how +weak ye are! + +She has a woman's longing; but for what? Even for the whole, the great +all-containing whole. Satan did not foresee that no one creature would +content her. + +That which he could not do, is done for her in some ineffable way. +Overcome by a desire so wide and deep, a longing boundless as the sea, +she falls asleep. At such a moment, all else forgot, no touch of hate, +no thought of vengeance left in her, she slumbers on the plain, +innocent in her own despite, stretched out in easy luxuriance like a +sheep or a dove. + +She sleeps, she dreams; a delightful dream! It seemed as if the +wondrous might of universal life had been swallowed up within her; as +if life and death and all things thenceforth lay fast in her bowels; +as if in return for all her suffering, she was teeming at last with +Nature herself. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE DEVIL A PHYSICIAN. + + +That still and dismal scene of the Bride of Corinth, is repeated +literally from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century. While it was +yet night, just before the daybreak, the two lovers, Man and Nature, +meet again, embrace with rapture, and, at that same moment--horrible +to tell!--behold themselves attacked by fearful plagues. We seem still +to hear the loved one saying to her lover, "It is all over: thy hair +will be white to-morrow. I am dead, and thou too wilt die." + +Three dreadful blows happen in these three centuries. In the first we +have a loathsome changing of the outer man, diseases of the skin, +above all, leprosy. In the second, the evil turns inwards, becomes a +grotesque excitement of the nerves, a fit of epileptic dancing. Then +all grows calm, but the blood is changed, and ulcers prepare the way +for syphilis, the scourge of the fifteenth century. + + * * * * * + +Among the chief diseases of the Middle Ages, so far as one can look +therein, to speak generally, had been hunger, weakness, poverty of +blood, that kind of consumption which is visible in the sculptures of +that time. The blood was like clear water, and scrofulous ailments +were rife everywhere. Barring the well-paid doctors, Jew or Arab, of +the kings, the art of medicine was practised only with, holy water at +the church door. Thither on Sundays, after the service, would come a +crowd of sick, to whom words like these were spoken: "You have sinned +and God has afflicted you. Be thankful: so much the less will you +suffer in the next world. Resign yourselves to suffer and to die. The +Church has prayers for the dead." Weak, languishing, hopeless, with no +desire to live, they followed this counsel faithfully, and let life go +its way. + +A fatal discouragement, a wretched state of things, that would have +prolonged without end these ages of lead, and debarred them from all +progress! Worst of all things is it to resign oneself so readily, to +welcome death with so much docility, to have strength for nothing, to +desire nothing. Of more worth was that new era, that close of the +Middle Ages, which at the cost of cruel sufferings first enabled us to +regain our former energy; namely, _the resurrection of desire_. + + * * * * * + +Some Arab writers have asserted that the widespread eruption of +skin-diseases which marks the thirteenth century, was caused by the +taking of certain stimulants to re-awaken and renew the defaults of +passion. Undoubtedly the burning spices brought over from the East, +tended somewhat to such an issue. The invention of distilling and of +divers fermented drinks may also have worked in the same direction. + +But a greater and far more general fermentation was going on. During +the sharp inward struggle between two worlds and two spirits, a third +surviving silenced both. As the fading faith and the newborn reason +were disputing together, somebody stepping between them caught hold of +man. You ask who? A spirit unclean and raging, the spirit of sour +desires, bubbling painfully within. + +Debarred from all outlet, whether of bodily enjoyment, or the free +flow of soul, the sap of life thus closely rammed together, was sure +to corrupt itself. Bereft of light, of sound, of speech, it spoke +through pains and ominous excrescences. Then happened a new and +dreadful thing. The desire put off without being diminished, finds +itself stopped short by a cruel enchantment, a shocking +metamorphosis.[40] Love was advancing blindly with open arms. It +recoils groaning; but in vain would it flee: the fire of the blood +keeps raging; the flesh eats itself away in sharp titillations, and +sharper within rages the coal of fire, made fiercer by despair. + + [40] Leprosy has been traced to Asia and the Crusades; but + Europe had it in herself. The war declared by the Middle Ages + against the flesh and all cleanliness bore its fruits. More + than one saint boasted of having never washed even his hands. + And how much did the rest wash? To have stripped for a moment + would have been sinful. The worldlings carefully follow the + teaching of the monks. This subtle and refined society, which + sacrificed marriage and seemed inspired only with the poetry + of adultery, preserved a strange scruple on a point so + harmless. It dreaded all cleansing, as so much defilement. + There was no bathing for a thousand years! + +What remedy does Christian Europe find for this twofold ill? Death and +captivity; nothing more. When the bitter celibacy, the hopeless love, +the passion irritable and ever-goading, bring you into a morbid state; +when your blood is decomposing, then you shall go down into an _In +pace_, or build your hut in the desert. You must live with the +handbell in your hand, that all may flee before you. "No human being +must see you: no consolation may be yours. If you come near, 'tis +death." + + * * * * * + +Leprosy is the last stage, the _apogee_ of this scourge; but a +thousand other ills, less hideous but still cruel, raged everywhere. +The purest and the most fair were stricken with sad eruptions, which +men regarded as sin made visible, or the chastisement of God. Then +people did what the love of life had never made them do: they forsook +the old sacred medicine, the bootless holy water, and went off to the +Witch. From habit and fear as well, they still repaired to church; but +thenceforth their true church was with her, on the moor, in the +forest, in the desert. To her they carried their vows. + +Prayers for healing, prayers for pleasure. On the first effervescing +of their heated blood, folk went to the Sibyl, in great secrecy, at +uncertain hours. "What shall I do? and what is this I feel within me? +I burn: give me some lenitive. I burn: grant me that which causes my +intolerable desire." + +A bold, a blamable journey, for which they reproach themselves at +night. Let this new fatality be never so urgent, this fire be never so +torturing, the Saints themselves never so powerless; still, have not +the indictment of the Templars and the proceedings of Pope Boniface +unveiled the Sodom lying hid beneath the altar? But a wizard Pope, a +friend of the Devil, who also carried him away, effects a change in +all their ideas. Was it not with the Demon's help that John XXII., the +son of a shoemaker, a Pope no more of Rome, succeeded in amassing in +his town of Avignon more gold than the Emperor and all the kings? As +the Pope is, so is the bishop. Did not Guichard, Bishop of Troyes, +procure from the Devil the death of the King's daughters? No death we +ask for--we; but pleasant things--for life, for health, for beauty, +and for pleasure: the things of God which God refuses. What shall we +do? Might we but win them through the grace of the _Prince of this +World_! + + * * * * * + +When the great and mighty doctor of the Renaissance, Paracelsus, cast +all the wise books of ancient medicine into the fire, Latin, and +Jewish, and Arabic, all at once, he declared that he had learned none +but the popular medicine, that of the _good women_,[41] the +_shepherds_, and the _headsmen_, the latter of whom made often good +horse-doctors and clever surgeons, resetting bones broken or put out +of joint. + + [41] The name given in fear and politeness to the witches. + +I make no doubt but that his admirable and masterly work on _The +Diseases of Women_--the first then written on a theme so large, so +deep, so tender--came forth from his special experience of those women +to whom others went for aid; of the witches, namely, who always acted +as the midwives: for never in those days was a male physician admitted +to the woman's side, to win her trust in him, to listen to her +secrets. The witches alone attended her, and became, especially for +women, the chief and only physician. + + * * * * * + +What we know for surest with regard to their medicinal practice is, +that for ends the most different, alike to stimulate and to soothe, +they made use of one large family of doubtful and very dangerous +plants, called, by reason of the services they rendered, _The +Comforters_, or Solane.[42] + + [42] Man's ingratitude is painful to see. A thousand other + plants have come into use: a hundred exotic vegetables have + become the fashion. But the good once done by these poor + _Comforters_ is clean forgotten!--Nay, who now remembers or + even acknowledges the old debt of humanity to harmless + nature? The _Asclepias acida_, _Sarcostemma_, or flesh-plant, + which for five thousand years was the _Holy Wafer_ of the + East, its very palpable God, eaten gladly by five hundred + millions of men,--this plant, in the Middle Ages called the + Poison-queller (_vince-venenum_), meets with not one word of + historical comment in our books of Botany. Perhaps two + thousand years hence they will forget the wheat. See Langlois + on the _Soma_ of India and the _Hom_ of Persia. _Mem. de + l'Acadmie des Inscriptions_, xix. 326. + +A vast and popular family, many kinds of which abound to excess under +our feet, in the hedges, everywhere--a family so numerous that of one +kind alone we have eight hundred varieties.[43] There is nothing +easier, nothing more common, to find. But these plants are mostly +dangerous in the using. It needs some boldness to measure out a dose, +the boldness, perhaps, of genius. + + [43] M. d'Orbigny's _Dictionary of Natural History_, article + _Morelles_. + +Let us, step by step, mount the ladder of their powers.[44] The first +are simply pot-herbs, good for food, such as the mad-apples and the +tomatoes, miscalled "love-apples." Other, of the harmless kinds, are +sweetness and tranquillity itself, as the white mullens, or lady's +fox-gloves, so good for fomentations. + + [44] I have found this ladder nowhere else. It is the more + important, because the witches who made these essays at the + risk of passing for poisoners, certainly began with the + weakest, and rose gradually to the strongest. Each step of + power thus gives its relative date, and helps us in this dark + subject to set up a kind of chronology. I shall complete it + in the following chapters, when I come to speak of the + Mandragora and the Datura. I have chiefly followed Pouchet's + _Solanes_ and _Botanique Gnrale_. + +Going higher up, you come on a plant already suspicious, which many +think a poison, a plant which at first seems like honey and afterwards +tastes bitter, reminding one of Jonathan's saying, "I have eaten a +little honey, and therefore shall I die." But this death is +serviceable, a dying away of pain. The "bittersweet" should have been +the first experiment of that bold homoeopathy which rose, little by +little, up to the most dangerous poisons. The slight irritation and +the tingling which it causes might point it out as a remedy for the +prevalent diseases of that time, those, namely, of the skin. + +The pretty maiden who found herself woefully adorned with uncouth red +patches, with pimples, or with ringworm, would come crying for such +relief. In the case of an elder woman the hurt would be yet more +painful. The bosom, most delicate thing in nature, with its innermost +vessels forming a matchless flower, becomes, through its injective and +congestive tendencies, the most perfect instrument for causing pain. +Sharp, ruthless, restless are the pains she suffers. Gladly would she +accept all kinds of poison. Instead of bargaining with the Witch, she +only puts her poor hard breast between her hands. + +From the bittersweet, too weak for such, we rise to the dark +nightshades, which have rather more effect. For a few days the woman +is soothed. Anon she comes back weeping. "Very well, to-night you may +come again. I will fetch you something, as you wish me; but it will be +a strong poison." + +It was a heavy risk for the Witch. At that time they never thought +that poisons could act as remedies, if applied outwardly or taken in +very weak doses. The plants they compounded together under the name of +_witches' herbs_, seemed to be but ministers of death. Such as were +found in her hands would have proved her, in their opinion, a poisoner +or a dealer in accursed charms. A blind crowd, all the more cruel for +its growing fears, might fell her with a shower of stones, or make her +undergo the trial by water--the _noyade_. Or even--most dreadful doom +of all!--they might drag her with a rope round her neck to the +churchyard, where a pious festival was held and the people edified by +seeing her thrown to the flames. + +However, she runs the risk, and fetches home the dreadful plant. The +other woman comes back to her abode by night or morning, whenever she +is least afraid of being met. But a young shepherd, who saw her there, +told the village, "If you had seen her as I did, gliding among the +rubbish of the ruined hut, looking about her on all sides, muttering I +know not what! Oh, but she has frightened me very much! If she had +seen me, I was a lost man. She would have changed me into a lizard, a +toad, or a bat. She took a paltry herb--the paltriest I ever saw--of a +pale sickly yellow, with red and black marks, like the flames, as they +say, of hell. The horror of the thing is, that the whole stalk was +hairy like a man, with long, black, sticky hairs. She plucked it +roughly, with a grunt, and suddenly I saw her no more. She could not +have run away so quick; she must have flown. What a dreadful thing +that woman is! How dangerous to the whole country!" + +Certainly the plant inspires dread. It is the henbane, a cruel and +dangerous poison, but a powerful emollient, a soft sedative poultice, +which melts, unbends, lulls to sleep the pain, often taking it quite +away. + +Another of these poisons--the Belladonna, so called, undoubtedly, in +thankful acknowledgment, had great power in laying the convulsions +that sometimes supervened in childbirth, and added a new danger, a new +fear, to the danger and the fear of that most trying moment. A +motherly hand instilled the gentle poison, casting the mother herself +into a sleep, and smoothing the infant's passage, after the manner of +the modern chloroform, into the world.[45] + + [45] Madame La Chapelle and M. Chaussier have renewed to good + purpose these practices of the older medicine. Pouchet, + _Solanes_. + +Belladonna cures the dancing-fits while making you dance. A daring +homoeopathy this, which at first must frighten: it is _medicine +reversed_, contrary in most things to that which alone the Christians +studied, which alone they valued, after the example of the Jews and +Arabs. + +How did men come to this result? Undoubtedly by the simple effect of +the great Satanic principle, that _everything must be done the wrong +way_, the very opposite way to that followed by the holy people. These +latter have a dread of poisons. Satan uses them and turns them into +remedies. The Church thinks by spiritual means, by sacraments and +prayers, to act even on the body. Satan, on the other hand, uses +material means to act even upon the soul, making you drink of +forgetfulness, love, reverie, and every passion. To the blessing of +the priest he opposes the magnetic passes made by the soft hands of +women, who cheat you of your pains. + + * * * * * + +By a change of system, and yet more of dress, as in the substitution +of linen for wool, the skin-diseases lost their intensity. Leprosy +abated, but seemed to go inwards and beget deeper ills. The fourteenth +century wavered between three scourges--the epileptic dancings, the +plague, and the sores which, according to Paracelsus, led the way to +syphilis. + +The first danger was not the least. About 1350 it broke out in a +frightful manner with the dance of St. Guy, and was singular +especially in this, that it did not act upon each person separately. +As if carried on by one same galvanic current, the sick caught each +other by the hand, formed immense chains, and spun and spun round till +they died. The spectators, who laughed at first, presently catching +the contagion, let themselves go, fell into the mighty current, +increased the terrible choir. + +What would have happened if the evil had held on as long as leprosy +did even in its decline? + +It was the first step, as it were, towards epilepsy. If that +generation of sufferers had not been cured, it would have begotten +another decidedly epileptic. What a frightful prospect! Think of +Europe covered with fools, with idiots, with raging madmen! We are not +told how the evil was treated and checked. The remedy prescribed by +most, the falling upon these jumpers with kicks and cuffings, was +entirely fitted to increase the frenzy and turn it into downright +epilepsy.[46] Doubtless there was some other remedy, of which people +were loth to speak. At the time when witchcraft took its first great +flight, the widespread use of the _Solane_, above all, of belladonna, +vulgarized the medicine which really checked those affections. At the +great popular gatherings of the Sabbath, of which we shall presently +speak, the _witches' herb_, mixed with mead, beer, cider,[47] or perry +(the strong drinks of the West), set the multitude dancing a dance +luxurious indeed, but far from epileptic. + + [46] We should think that few physicians would quite agree + with M. Michelet.--TRANS. + + [47] Cider was first made in the twelfth century. + + * * * * * + +But the greatest revolution caused by the witches, the greatest step +_the wrong way_ against the spirit of the Middle Ages, was what may be +called the renfeoffment of the stomach and the digestive organs. They +had the boldness to say, "There is nothing foul or unclean." +Thenceforth the study of matter was free and boundless. Medicine +became a possibility. + +That this principle was greatly abused, we do not deny; but the +principle is none the less clear. There is nothing foul but moral +evil. In the natural world all things are pure: nothing may be +withheld from our studious regard, nothing be forbidden by an idle +spiritualism, still less by a silly disgust. + +It was here especially that the Middle Ages showed themselves in their +true light, as _anti-natural_, out of Nature's oneness drawing +distinctions of castes, of priestly orders. Not only do they count the +spirit _noble_, and the body _ignoble_; but even parts of the body are +called noble, while others are not, being evidently plebeian. In like +manner heaven is noble, and hell is not; but why?--"Because heaven is +high up." But in truth it is neither high nor low, being above and +beneath alike. And what is hell? Nothing at all. Equally foolish are +they about the world at large and the smaller world of men. + +This world is all one piece: each thing in it is attached to all the +rest. If the stomach is servant of the brain and feeds it, the brain +also works none the less for the stomach, perpetually helping to +prepare for it the digestive _sugar_.[48] + + [48] This great discovery was made by Claude Bernard. + + * * * * * + +There was no lack of injurious treatment. The witches were called +filthy, indecent, shameless, immoral. Nevertheless, their first steps +on that road may be accounted as a happy revolution in things most +moral, in charity and kindness. With a monstrous perversion of ideas +the Middle Ages viewed the flesh in its representative, +woman,--accursed since the days of Eve--as a thing impure. The Virgin, +exalted as _Virgin_ more than as _Our Lady_, far from lifting up the +real woman, had caused her abasement, by setting men on the track of a +mere scholastic puritanism, where they kept rising higher and higher +in subtlety and falsehood. + +Woman herself ended by sharing in the hateful prejudice and deeming +herself unclean. She hid herself at the hour of childbed. She blushed +at loving and bestowing happiness on others. Sober as she mostly was +in comparison with man, living as she mostly did on herbs and fruits, +sharing through her diet of milk and vegetables the purity of the most +innocent breeds, she almost besought forgiveness for being born, for +living, for carrying out the conditions of her life. + + * * * * * + +The medical art of the Middle Ages busied itself peculiarly about the +man, a being noble and pure, who alone could become a priest, alone +could make God at the altar. It also paid some attention to the +beasts, beginning indeed with them; but of children it thought seldom: +of women not at all. + +The romances, too, with their subtleties pourtray the converse of the +world. Outside the courts and highborn adulterers, which form the +chief topic of these romances, the woman is always a poor Griselda, +born to drain the cup of suffering, to be often beaten, and never +cared for. + +In order to mind the woman, to trample these usages under foot, and to +care for her in spite of herself, nothing less would serve than the +Devil, woman's old ally, her trusty friend in Paradise, and the Witch, +that monster who deals with everything the wrong way, exactly +contrariwise to that of the holier people. The poor creature set such +little store by herself. She would shrink back, blushing, and loth to +say a word. The Witch being clever and evil-hearted, read her to the +inmost depths. Ere long she won her to speak out, drew from her her +little secret, overcame her refusals, her modest, humble hesitations. +Rather than undergo the remedy, she was willing almost to die. But the +cruel sorceress made her live. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +CHARMS AND PHILTRES. + + +Let no one hastily conclude from the foregoing chapter that I attempt +to whiten, to acquit entirely, the dismal bride of the Devil. If she +often did good, she could also do no small amount of ill. There is no +great power which is not abused. And this one had three centuries of +actual reigning, in the interlude between two worlds, the older dying +and the new struggling painfully to begin. The Church, which in the +quarrels of the sixteenth century will regain some of her strength, at +least for fighting, in the fourteenth is down in the mire. Look at the +truthful picture drawn by Clmangis. The nobles, so proudly arrayed in +their new armour, fall all the more heavily at Crcy, Poitiers, +Agincourt. All who survive end by being prisoners in England. What a +theme for ridicule! The citizens, the very peasants make merry and +shrug their shoulders. This general absence of the lords gave, I +fancy, no small encouragement to the Sabbath gatherings which had +always taken place, but at this time might first have grown into vast +popular festivals. + +How mighty the power thus wielded by Satan's sweetheart, who cures, +foretels, divines, calls up the souls of the dead; who can throw a +spell upon you, turn you into a hare or wolf, enable you to find a +treasure, and, best of all, ensure your being beloved! It is an awful +power which combines all others. How could a stormy soul, a soul most +commonly gangrened, and sometimes grown utterly wayward, have helped +employing it to wreak her hate and revenge; sometimes even out of a +mere delight in malice and uncleanness? + +All that once was told the confessor, is now imparted to her: not only +the sins already done, but those also which folk purpose doing. She +holds each by her shameful secret, by the avowal of her uncleanest +desires. To her they entrust both their bodily and mental ills; the +lustful heats of a blood inflamed and soured; the ceaseless prickings +of some sharp, urgent, furious desire. + +To her they all come: with her there is no shame. In plain blunt words +they beseech her for life, for death, for remedies, for poisons. +Thither comes a young woman, to ask through her tears for the means of +saving her from the fruits of her sin. Thither comes the +step-mother--a common theme in the Middle Ages--to say that the child +of a former marriage eats well and lives long. Thither comes the +sorrowing wife whose children year by year are born only to die. And +now, on the other hand, comes a youth to buy at any cost the burning +draught that shall trouble the heart of some haughty dame, until, +forgetful of the distance between them, she has stooped to look upon +her little page. + + * * * * * + +In these days there are but two types, two forms of marriage, both of +them extreme and outrageous. + +The scornful heiress of a fief, who brings her husband a crown or a +broad estate, an Eleanor of Guyenne for instance, will, under her +husband's very eyes, hold her court of lovers, keeping herself under +very slight control. Let us leave romances and poems, to look at the +reality in its dread march onward to the unbridled rage of the +daughters of Philip the Fair, of the cruel Isabella, who by the hands +of her lovers impaled Edward II. The insolence of the feudal women +breaks out diabolically in the triumphant two-horned bonnet and other +brazen-faced fashions. + +But in this century, when classes are beginning to mingle slightly, +the woman of a lower rank, when she marries a lord, has to fear the +hardest trials. So says the truthful history of the humble, the meek, +the patient Griselda. In a more popular form it becomes the tale of +_Blue-Beard_, a tale which seems to me quite earnest and historical. +The wife so often killed and replaced by him could only have been his +vassal. He would have reckoned wholly otherwise with the daughter or +sister of a baron, who might avenge her. If I am not misled by a +specious conjecture, we must believe that this tale is of the +fourteenth century, and not of those preceding, in which the lord +would never have deigned to take a wife below himself. + +Specially remarkable in the moving tale of _Griselda_ is the fact, +that throughout her heavy trials, she never seeks support in being +devout or in loving another. She is evidently faithful, chaste, and +pure. It never comes into her mind to love elsewhere. + +Of the two feudal women, the Heiress and Griselda, it is peculiarly +the first who has her household of gentlemen, her courts of love, who +shows favour to the humblest lovers, encouraging them, delivering, as +Eleanor did, the famous sentence, soon to become quite classical: +"There can be no love between married folk." + +Thereupon a secret hope, but hot and violent withal, arises in more +than one young heart. If he must give himself to the Devil, he will +rush full tilt on this adventurous intrigue. Let the castle be never +so surely closed, one fine opening is still left for Satan. In a game +so perilous, what chance of success reveals itself? Wisdom answers, +None. But what if Satan said, Yes? + +We must remember how great a distance feudal pride set between the +nobles themselves. Words are misleading: one _cavalier_ might be far +below another. + +The knight banneret, who brought a whole army of vassals to his king's +side, would look with utter scorn from one end of his long table on +the poor _lackland_ knights seated at the other. How much greater his +scorn for the simple varlets, grooms, pages, &c., fed upon his +leavings! Seated at the lowermost end of the tables close to the door, +they scraped the dishes sent down to them, often empty, from the +personages seated above beside the hearth. It never would cross the +great lord's mind, that those below would dare to lift eyes of fancy +towards their lovely mistress, the haughty heiress of a fief, sitting +near her mother, "crowned by a chaplet of white roses." Whilst he bore +with wondrous patience the love of some stranger knight, appointed by +his lady to bear her colours, he would have savagely punished the +boldness of any servant who looked so high. Of this kind was the +raging jealousy shown by the Lord of Fayel, who was stirred to deadly +wrath, not because his wife had a lover, but because that lover was +one of his household, the castellan or simple constable of his castle +of Coucy. + +The deeper and less passable seemed the gulf between the great +heiress, lady of the manor, and the groom or page who, barring his +shirt, had nothing, not even his coat, but what belonged to his +master, the stronger became love's temptation to overleap that gulf. + +The youth was buoyed up by the very impossibility. At length, one day +that he managed to get out of the tower, he ran off to the Witch and +asked her advice. Would a philtre serve as a spell to win her? Or, +failing that, must he make an express covenant? He never shrank at all +from the dreadful idea of yielding himself to Satan. "We will take +care for that, young man: but hie thee up again; you will find some +change already." + + * * * * * + +The change, however, is in himself. He is stirred by some ineffable +hope, that escapes in spite of him from a deep downcast eye, scored by +an ever-darting flame. Somebody, we may guess who, having eyes for him +alone, is moved to throw him, as she passes, a word of pity. Oh, +rapture! Kind Satan! Charming, adorable Witch! + +He cannot eat nor drink until he has been to see the latter again. +Respectfully kissing her hand, he almost falls at her feet. Whatever +she may ask him, whatever she may bid him do, he will obey her. That +moment, if she wishes it, he will give her his golden chain, will give +her the ring upon his finger, though he had it from a dying mother. +But the Witch, in her native malice, in her hatred of the Baron, feels +an especial comfort in dealing him a secret blow. + +Already a vague anxiety disturbs the castle. A dumb tempest, without +lightning or thunder, broods over it, like an electric vapour on a +marsh. All is silence, deep silence; but the lady is troubled. She +suspects that some supernatural power has been at work. For why indeed +be thus drawn to this youth, more than to some one else, handsomer, +nobler, renowned already for deeds of arms? There is something toward, +down yonder! Has that woman cast a spell upon her, or worked some +hidden charm? The more she asks herself these questions, the more her +heart is troubled. + + * * * * * + +The Witch has something to wreak her malice upon at last. In the +village she was a queen; but now the castle comes to her, yields +itself up to her on that side where its pride ran the greatest risk. +For us this passion has a peculiar interest, as the rush of one soul +towards its ideal against every social harrier, against the unjust +decree of fate. To the Witch, on her side, it holds out the deep, keen +delight of humbling the lady's pride, and revenging perhaps her own +wrongs; the delight of serving the lord as he served his vassals, of +levying upon him, through the boldness of a mere child, the +firstfruits of his outrageous wedding-rights. Undoubtedly, in these +intrigues where the Witch had to play her part, she often acted from a +depth of levelling hatred natural to a peasant. + +Already it was something gained to have made the lady stoop to love a +menial. We should not be misled by such examples as John of Saintr +and Cherubin. The serving-boy filled the lowest offices in the +household. The footman proper did not then exist, while on the other +hand, few, if any maidservants lived in military strongholds. Young +hands did everything, and were not disgraced thereby. The service, +specially the body-service of the lord and lady, honoured and raised +them up. Nevertheless, it often placed the highborn page in situations +sorrowful enough, prosaic, not to say ridiculous. The lord never +distresses himself about that. And the lady must indeed be charmed by +the Devil, not to see what every day she saw, her well-beloved +employed in servile and unsuitable tasks. + + * * * * * + +In the Middle Ages the very high and the very low are continually +brought together. That which is hidden by the poems, we can catch a +glimpse of otherwhere. With those ethereal passions, many gross things +were clearly blended. + +All we know of the charms and philtres used by the witches is very +fantastic, not seldom marked by malice, and recklessly mixed up with +things that seem to us the least likely to have awakened love. By +these methods they went a long way without the husband's perceiving in +his blindness the game they made of him. + +These philtres were of various kinds. Some were for exciting and +troubling the senses, like the stimulants so much abused in the East. +Others were dangerous, and often treacherous draughts to whose +illusions the body would yield itself without the will. Others again +were employed as tests when the passion was defied, when one wished to +see how far the greediness of desire might derange the senses, making +them receive as the highest and holiest of favours, the most +disagreeable services done by the object of their love. + +The rude way in which a castle was constructed, with nothing in it but +large halls, led to an utter sacrifice of the inner life. It was long +enough before they took to building in one of the turrets a closet or +recess for meditation and the saying of prayers. The lady was easily +watched. On certain days set or waited for, the bold youth would +attempt the stroke, recommended him by the Witch, of mingling a +philtre with her drink. + +This, however, was a dangerous matter, not often tried. Less difficult +was it to purloin from the lady things which escaped her notice, which +she herself despised. He would treasure up the very smallest paring of +a nail; he would gather up respectfully one or two beautiful hairs +that might fall from her comb. These he would carry to the Witch, who +often asked, as our modern sleep-wakers do, for something very +personal and strongly redolent of the person, but obtained without her +leave; as, for instance, some threads torn out of a garment long worn +and soiled with the traces of perspiration. With much kissing, of +course, and worshipping, the lover was fain reluctantly to throw these +treasures into the fire, with a view to gathering up the ashes +afterwards. By and by, when she came to look at her garment, the fine +lady would remark the rent, but guessing at the cause, would only sigh +and hold her tongue. The charm had already begun to work. + + * * * * * + +Even if she hesitated from regard for her marriage-vow, certain it is +that life in a space so narrow, where they were always in each +other's sight, so near and yet so far, became a downright torment. And +even when she had once shown her weakness, still before her husband +and others equally jealous the moments of happiness would assuredly be +rare. Hence sprang many a foolish outbreak of unsatisfied desire. The +less they came together, the more deeply they longed to do so. A +disordered fancy sought to attain that end by means grotesque, +unnatural, utterly senseless. So by way of establishing a means of +secret correspondence between the two, the Witch had the letters of +the alphabet pricked on both their arms. If one of them wanted to send +a thought to the other, he brightened and brought out by sucking the +blood-red letters of the wished-for word. Immediately, so it is said, +the corresponding letters bled on the other's arm. + +Sometimes in these mad fits they would drink each of the other's +blood, so as to mingle their souls, it was said, in close communion. +The devouring of Coucy's heart, which the lady "found so good that she +never ate again," is the most tragical instance of these monstrous +vows of loving cannibalism. But when the absent one did not die, but +only the love within him, then the lady would seek counsel of the +Witch, begging of her the means of holding him, of bringing him back. + +The incantations used by the sorceress of Theocritus and Virgil, +though employed also in the Middle Ages, were seldom of much avail. An +attempt was made to win back the lover by a spell seemingly copied +from antiquity, by means of a cake, of a _confarreatio_[49] like that +which, both in Asia and Europe, had always been the holiest pledge of +love. But in this case it is not the soul only, it is the flesh also +they seek to bind; there must be so true an identity established +between the two, that, dead to all other women, he shall live only for +her. It was a cruel ceremony on the woman's side. "No haggling, +madam," says the Witch. Suddenly the proud dame grows obedient, even +to letting herself be stripped bare: for thus indeed it must be. + + [49] One form of wedding among the Romans, in which the + bride-cake was broken between the pair, in token of their + union.--TRANS. + +What a triumph for the Witch! And if this lady were the same as she +who had once made her "run the gauntlet," how meet the vengeance, how +dread the requital now! But it is not enough to have stripped her thus +naked. About her loins is fastened a little shelf, on which a small +oven is set for the cooking of the cake. "Oh, my dear, I cannot bear +it longer! Make haste, and relieve me." + +"You must bear it, madam; you must feel the heat. When the cake is +done, he will be warmed by you, by your flame." + +It is over; and now we have the cake of antiquity, of the Indian and +the Roman marriage, but spiced and warmed up by the lecherous spirit +of the Devil. She does not say with Virgil's wizard,[50] + + "Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnin!" + + [50] "Hither, ye spells of mine, bring Daphnis home from the + city!"--_Virgil_, Eclogue viii. + +But she takes him the cake, steeped, as it were, in the other's +suffering, and kept warm by her love. He has hardly bitten it when he +is overtaken by an odd emotion, by a feeling of dizziness. Then as the +blood rushes up to his heart he turns red and hot. Passion fastens +anew on him, and inextinguishable desire.[51] + + [51] I am wrong in saying inextinguishable. Fresh philtres + were often needed; and the blame of this must lie with the + lady, from whom the Witch in her mocking, malignant rage + exacted the most humiliating observances. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE REBELS' COMMUNION--SABBATHS--THE BLACK MASS. + + +We must now speak of the _Sabbaths_; a word which at different times +clearly meant quite different things. Unhappily, we have no detailed +accounts of these gatherings earlier than the reign of Henry IV.[52] +By that time they were nothing more than a great lewd farce carried on +under the cloak of witchcraft. But these very descriptions of a thing +so greatly corrupted are marked by certain antique touches that tell +of the successive periods and the different forms through which it had +passed. + + [52] The least bad of these is by Lancre, a man of some wit, + whose evident connection with some young witches gave him + something to say. The accounts of the Jesuit Del Rio and the + Dominican Michalis are the absurd productions of two + credulous and silly pedants. + + * * * * * + +We may set out with this firm idea that, for many centuries, the serf +led the life of a wolf or a fox; that he was _an animal of the night_, +moving about, I may say, as little as possible in the daytime, and +truly living in the night alone. + +Still, up to the year 1000, so long as the people made their own +saints and legends, their daily life was not to them uninteresting. +Their nightly Sabbaths were only a slight relic of paganism. They +held in fear and honour the Moon, so powerful over the good things of +earth. Her chief worshippers, the old women, burn small candles to +_Dianom_--the Diana of yore, whose other names were Luna and Hecate. +The Lupercal (or wolf-man) is always following the women and children, +disguised indeed under the dark face of ghost Hallequin (Harlequin). +The Vigil of Venus was kept as a holiday precisely on the first of +May. On Midsummer Day they kept the Sabaza by sacrificing the he-goat +of Bacchus Sabasius. In all this there was no mockery; nothing but a +harmless carnival of serfs. + +But about the year 1000 the church is well-nigh shut against the +peasant through the difference between his language and hers. By 1100 +her services became quite unintelligible. Of the mysteries played at +the church-doors, he has retained chiefly the comic side, the ox and +the ass, &c. On these he makes Christmas carols, which grow ever more +and more burlesque, forming a true Sabbatic literature. + + * * * * * + +Are we to suppose that the great and fearful risings of the twelfth +century had no influence on these mysteries, on this night-life of the +_wolf_, the _game bird_, the _wild quarry_. The great sacraments of +rebellion among the serfs, when they drank of each other's blood, or +ate of the ground by way of solemn pledge,[53] may have been +celebrated at the Sabbaths. The "Marseillaise" of that time, sung by +night rather than day, was perhaps a Sabbatic chant:-- + + "Nous sommes hommes commes ils sont! + Tout aussi grand coeur nous avons! + Tout autant souffrir nous pouvons!"[54] + + [53] At the battle of Courtray. See also Grimm and my + _Origines_. + + [54] + + "We are fashioned of one clay: + Big as theirs our hearts are aye: + We can bear as much as they."--TRANS. + +But the tombstone falls again in 1200. Seated thereon the Pope and the +King, with their enormous weight, have sealed up man. Has he now his +old life by night? More than ever. The old pagan dances must by this +time have waxed furious. Our negroes of the Antilles, after a dreadful +day of heat and hard work, would go and dance away some four leagues +off. So it was with the serf too. But with his dances there must have +mingled a merriment born of revenge, satiric farces, burlesques and +caricatures of the baron and the priest: a whole literature of the +night indeed, that knew not one word of the literature of the day, +that knew little even of the burgher Fabliaux. + + * * * * * + +Of such a nature were the Sabbaths before 1300. Before they could take +the startling form of open warfare against the God of those days, much +more was needed still, and especially these two things: not only a +descending into the very depths of despair, but also _an utter losing +of respect for anything_. + +To this pass they do not come until the fourteenth century, under the +Avignon popes, and during the Great Schism; when the Church with two +heads seems no longer a church; when the king and all his nobles, +being in shameful captivity to the English, are extorting the means of +ransom from their oppressed and outraged people. Then do the Sabbaths +take the grand and horrible form of the _Black Mass_, of a ritual +upside down, in which Jesus is defied and bidden to thunder on the +people if He can. In the thirteenth century this devilish drama was +still impossible, through the horror it would have caused. And later +again, in the fifteenth, when everything, even suffering itself, had +become exhausted, so fierce an outburst could not have issued forth; +so monstrous an invention no one would have essayed. It could only +have belonged to the age of Dante. + + * * * * * + +It took place, I fancy, at one gush; an explosion as it were of genius +raving, bringing impiety up to the height of a great popular +passion-fit. To understand the nature of these bursts of rage, we must +remember that, far from imagining the fixedness of God's laws, a +people brought up by their own clergy to believe and depend on +miracles, had for ages past been hoping and waiting for nothing else +than a miracle which never came. In vain they demanded one in the +desperate hour of their last worst strait. Heaven thenceforth appeared +to them as the ally of their savage tormentors, nay, as itself a +tormentor too. + +Thereon began the _Black Mass_ and the _Jacquerie_.[55] + + [55] The Peasants' war which raged in France in 1364. + +In the elastic shell of the Black Mass, a thousand variations of +detail may afterwards have been inserted; but the shell itself was +strongly made and, in my opinion, all of one piece. + +This drama I succeeded in reproducing in my "History of France," in +the year 1857. There was small difficulty in casting it anew in its +four acts. Only at that time I left in it too many of the grotesque +adornments which clothed the Sabbath of a later period; nor did I +clearly enough define what belonged to the older shell, so dark and +dreadful. + + * * * * * + +Its date is strongly marked by certain savage tokens of an age +accursed, and yet more by the ruling place therein assigned to woman, +a fact most characteristic of the fourteenth century. + +It is strange to mark how, at that period, the woman who enjoys so +little freedom still holds her royal sway in a hundred violent +fashions. At this time she inherits fiefs, brings her kingdoms to the +king. On the lower levels she has still her throne, and yet more in +the skies. Mary has supplanted Jesus. St. Francis and St. Dominic have +seen the three worlds in her bosom. By the immensity of her grace she +washes away sin; ay, and sometimes helps the sinner,--as in the story +of a nun whose place the Virgin took in the choir, while she herself +was gone to meet her lover. + +Up high, and down very low, we see the woman. Beatrice reigns in +heaven among the stars, while John of Meung in the _Romaunt of the +Rose_ is preaching the community of women. Pure or sullied, the woman +is everywhere. We might say of her what Raymond Lulle said of God: +"What part has He in the world? The whole." + +But alike in heaven and in poetry the true heroine is not the fruitful +mother decked out with children; but the Virgin, or some barren +Beatrice, who dies young. + +A fair English damsel passed over into France, it is said, about the +year 1300, to preach the redemption of women. She looked on herself as +their Messiah. + + * * * * * + +In its earliest phase the Black Mass seemed to betoken this redemption +of Eve, so long accursed of Christianity. The woman fills every office +in the Sabbath. She is priestess, altar, pledge of holy communion, by +turns. Nay, at bottom, is she not herself as God? + + * * * * * + +Many popular traits may be found herein, and yet it comes not wholly +from the people. The peasant who honoured strength alone, made small +account of the woman; as we see but too clearly in our old laws and +customs. From him the woman would not have received the high place she +holds here. It is by her own self the place is won. + +I would gladly believe that the Sabbath in its then shape was woman's +work, the work of such a desperate woman as the Witch was then. In the +fourteenth century she saw open before her a horrible career of +torments lighted up for three or four hundred years by the stake. +After 1300 her medical knowledge is condemned as baleful, her remedies +are proscribed as if they were poisons. The harmless drawing of lots, +by which lepers then thought to better their luck, brought on a +massacre of those poor wretches. Pope John XXII. ordered the burning +of a bishop suspected of Witchcraft. Under a system of such blind +repression there was just the same risk in daring little as in daring +much. Danger itself made people bolder; and the Witch was able to dare +anything. + + * * * * * + +Human brotherhood, defiance of the Christian heaven, a distorted +worship of nature herself as God--such was the purport of the Black +Mass. + +They decked an altar to the arch-rebel of serfs, _to Him who had been +so wronged_, the old outlaw, unfairly hunted out of heaven, "the +Spirit by whom earth was made, the Master who ordained the budding of +the plants." Such were the names of honour given him by his +worshippers, the _Luciferians_, and also, according to a very likely +opinion, by the Knights of the Temple. + +The greatest miracle of those unhappy times is, the greater abundance +found at the nightly communion of the brotherhood, than was to be +found elsewhere by day. By incurring some little danger the Witch +levied her contributions from those who were best off, and gathered +their offerings into a common fund. Charity in a Satanic garb grew +very powerful, as being a crime, a conspiracy, a form of rebellion. +People would rob themselves of their food by day for the sake of the +common meal at night. + + * * * * * + +Figure to yourself, on a broad moor, and often near an old Celtic +cromlech, at the edge of a wood, this twofold scene: on one side a +well-lit moor and a great feast of the people; on the other, towards +yon wood, the choir of that church whose dome is heaven. What I call +the choir is a hill commanding somewhat the surrounding country. +Between these are the yellow flames of torch-fires, and some red +brasiers emitting a fantastic smoke. At the back of all is the Witch, +dressing up her Satan, a great wooden devil, black and shaggy. By his +horns, and the goatskin near him, he might be Bacchus; but his manly +attributes make him a Pan or a Priapus. It is a darksome figure, seen +differently by different eyes; to some suggesting only terror, while +others are touched by the proud melancholy wherein the Eternally +Banished seems absorbed.[56] + + [56] This is taken from Del Rio, but is not, I think, + peculiar to Spain. It is an ancient trait, and marked by the + primitive inspiration. + + * * * * * + +Act First. The magnificent _In troit_ taken by Christendom from +antiquity, that is, from those ceremonies where the people in long +train streamed under the colonnades on their way to the sanctuary, is +now taken back for himself by the elder god upon his return to power. +The _Lavabo_, likewise borrowed from the heathen lustrations, +reappears now. All this he claims back by right of age. + +His priestess is always called, by way of honour, the Elder; but she +would sometimes have been young. Lancre tells of a witch of seventeen, +pretty, and horribly savage. + +The Devil's bride was not to be a child: she must be at least thirty +years old, with the form of a Medea, with the beauty that comes of +pain; an eye deep, tragic, lit up by a feverish fire, with great +serpent tresses waving at their will: I refer to the torrent of her +black untamable hair. On her head, perhaps, you may see the crown of +vervein, the ivy of the tomb, the violets of death. + +When she has had the children taken off to their meal, the service +begins: "I will come before thine altar; but save me, O Lord, from the +faithless and violent man (from the priest and the baron)." + +Then come the denial of Jesus, the paying of homage to the new master, +the feudal kiss, like the greetings of the Temple, when all was +yielded without reserve, without shame, or dignity, or even purpose; +the denial of an olden god being grossly aggravated by a seeming +preference for Satan's back. + +It is now his turn to consecrate his priestess. The wooden deity +receives her in the manner of an olden Pan or Priapus. Following the +old pagan form she sits a moment upon him in token of surrender, like +the Delphian seeress on Apollo's tripod. After receiving the breath of +his spirit, the sacrament of his love, she purifies herself with like +formal solemnity. Thenceforth she is a living altar. + + * * * * * + +The Introit over, the service is interrupted for the feast. Contrary +to the festive fashion of the nobles, who all sit with their swords +beside them, here, in this feast of brethren, are no arms, not even a +knife. + +As a keeper of the peace, each has a woman with him. Without a woman +no one is admitted. Be she a kinswoman or none, a wife or none; be she +old or young, a woman he must bring with him. + +What were the drinks passed round among them? Mead, or beer, or wine; +strong cider or perry? The last two date from the twelfth century. + +The illusive drinks, with their dangerous admixture of belladonna, did +they already appear at that board? Certainly not. There were children +there. Besides, an excess of commotion would have prevented the +dancing. + +This whirling dance, the famous _Sabbath-round_, was quite enough to +complete the first stage of drunkenness. They turned back to back, +their arms behind them, not seeing each other, but often touching each +other's back. Gradually no one knew himself, nor whom he had by his +side. The old wife then was old no more. Satan had wrought a miracle. +She was still a woman, desirable, after a confused fashion beloved. + + * * * * * + +Act Second. Just as the crowd, grown dizzy together, was led, both by +the attraction of the women and by a certain vague feeling of +brotherhood, to imagine itself one body, the service was resumed at +the _Gloria_. The altar, the host, became visible. These were +represented by the woman herself. Prostrate, in a posture of extreme +abasement, her long black silky tresses lost in the dust; she, this +haughty Proserpine, offered up herself. On her back a demon +officiated, saying the _Credo_, and making the offering.[57] + + [57] This important fact of the woman being her own altar, is + known to us by the trial of La Voisin, which M. Ravaisson, + Sen., is about to publish with the other _Papers of the + Bastille_. + +At a later period this scene came to be immodest. But at this time, +amidst the calamities of the fourteenth century, in the terrible days +of the Black Plague, and of so many a famine, in the days of the +Jacquerie and those hateful brigands, the Free Lances,--on a people +thus surrounded by danger, the effect was more than serious. The whole +assembly had much cause to fear a surprise. The risk run by the Witch +in this bold proceeding was very great, even tantamount to the +forfeiting of her life. Nay, more; she braved a hell of suffering, of +torments such as may hardly be described. Torn by pincers, and broken +alive; her breasts torn out; her skin slowly singed, as in the case +of the wizard bishop of Cahors; her body burned limb by limb on a +small fire of red-hot coal, she was like to endure an eternity of +agony. + +Certainly all were moved when the prayer was spoken, the +harvest-offering made, upon this devoted creature who gave herself up +so humbly. Some wheat was offered to the _Spirit of the Earth_, who +made wheat to grow. A flight of birds, most likely from the woman's +bosom, bore to the _God of Freedom_ the sighs and prayers of the +serfs. What did they ask? Only that we, their distant descendants, +might become free.[58] + + [58] This grateful offering of wheat and birds is peculiar to + France. In Lorraine, and no doubt in Germany, black beasts + were offered, as the black cat, the black goat, or the black + bull. + +What was the sacrament she divided among them? Not the ridiculous +pledge we find later in the reign of Henry IV., but most likely that +_confarreatio_ which we saw in the case of the philtres, the hallowed +pledge of love, a cake baked on her own body, on the victim who, +perhaps, to-morrow would herself be passing through the fire. It was +her life, her death, they ate there. One sniffs already the scorching +flesh. + +Last of all they set upon her two offerings, seemingly of flesh; two +images, one of _the latest dead_, the other of the newest-born in the +district. These shared in the special virtue assigned to her who acted +as altar and Host in one, and on these the assembly made a show of +receiving the communion. Their Host would thus be threefold, and +always human. Under a shadowy likeness of the Devil the people +worshipped none other than its own self. + +The true sacrifice was now over and done. The woman's work was ended, +when she gave herself up to be eaten by the multitude. Rising from her +former posture, she would not withdraw from the spot until she had +proudly stated, and, as it were, confirmed the lawfulness of her +proceedings by an appeal to the thunderbolt, by an insolent defiance +of the discrowned God. + +In mockery of the _Agnus Dei_, and the breaking of the Christian Host, +she brought a toad dressed up, and pulled it to pieces. Then rolling +her eyes about in a frightful way she raised them to heaven, and +beheading the toad, uttered these strange words: "Ah, _Philip_,[59] if +I had you here, you should be served in the same manner!" + + [59] Lancre, 136. Why "Philip," I cannot say. By Satan Jesus + is always called John or _Janicot_ (Jack). Was she speaking + of Philip of Valois, who brought on the wasting hundred + years' war with England? + + * * * * * + +No answer being outwardly given to her challenge, no thunderbolt +hurled upon her head, they imagine that she has triumphed over the +Christ. The nimble band of demons seized their moment to astonish the +people with various small wonders which amazed and overawed the more +credulous. The toads, quite harmless in fact, but then accounted +poisonous, were bitten and torn between their dainty teeth. They +jumped over large fires and pans of live coal, to amuse the crowd and +make them laugh at the fires of Hell. + +Did the people really laugh after a scene so tragical, so very bold? I +know not. Assuredly there was no laughing on the part of her who first +dared all this. To her these fires must have seemed like those of the +nearest stake. Her business rather lay in forecasting the future of +that devilish monarchy, in creating the Witch to be. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE SEQUEL--LOVE AND DEATH--SATAN DISAPPEARS. + + +And now the multitude is made free, is of good cheer. For some hours +the serf reigns in short-lived freedom. His time indeed is scant +enough. Already the sky is changing, the stars are going down. Another +moment, and the cruel dawn remits him to his slavery, brings him back +again under hostile eyes, under the shadow of the castle, beneath the +shadow of the church; back again to his monotonous toiling, to the old +unending weariness of heart, governed as it were by two bells, whereof +one keeps saying "Always," the other "Never." Anon they will be seen +coming each out of his own house, heavily, humbly, with an air of calm +composure. + +Let them at least enjoy the one short moment! Let each of these +disinherited, for once fulfil his fancy, for once indulge his musings. +What soul is there so all unhappy, so lost to all feeling, as never to +have one good dream, one fond desire; never to say, "If this would +only happen!" + +The only detailed accounts we have, as I said before, are modern, +belonging to a time of peace and well-doing, when France was blooming +afresh, in the latter years of Henry VI., years of thriving luxury, +entirely different from that dark age when the Sabbath was first set +going. + +No thanks to Mr. Lancre and others, if we refrain from pourtraying the +Third Act as like the Church-Fair of Rubens, a very miscellaneous +orgie, a great burlesque ball, which allowed of every kind of union, +especially between near kindred. According to those authors, who would +make us groan with horror, the main end of the Sabbath, the explicit +doctrine taught by Satan, was incest; and in those great gatherings, +sometimes of two thousand souls, the most startling deeds were done +before the whole world. + +This is hard to believe; and the same writers tell of other things +which seem quite opposed to a view so cynical. They say that people +went to those meetings only in pairs, that they sat down to the feast +by twos, that even if one person came alone, she was assigned a young +demon, who took charge of her, and did the honours of the feast. They +say, too, that jealous lovers were not afraid to go thither in company +with the curious fair. + +We also find that the most of them came by families, children and all. +The latter were sent off only during the first act, not during the +feast, nor the services, nor yet while this third act was going on; a +fact which proves that some decency was observed. Moreover, the scene +was twofold. The household groups stayed on the moor in a blaze of +light. It was only beyond the fantastic curtain of torch-smoke that +the darker spaces, where people could roam in all directions, began. + +The judges, the inquisitors, for all their enmity, are fain to allow +the existence here of a general spirit of peace and mildness. Of the +three things that startle us in the feasts of nobles, there is not one +here; no swords, no duels, no tables reeking blood. No faithless +gallantries here bring dishonour on some intimate friend. Unknown, +unneeded here, for all they say, is the unclean brotherhood of the +Temple; in the Sabbath, woman is everything. + +The question of incest needs explaining. All alliances between +kinsfolk, even those most allowable in the present day, were then +regarded as a crime. The modern law, which is charity itself, +understands the heart of man and the well-being of families.[60] It +allows the widower to marry his wife's sister, the best mother his +children could have. Above all, it allows a man to wed his cousin, +whom he knows and may trust fully, whom he has loved perhaps from +childhood, his playfellow of old, regarded by his mother with special +favour as already the adopted of her own heart. In the Middle Ages all +this was incestuous. + + [60] Of course the allusion here, as shown in the next + following sentence, is to French law in particular. As for + the marriage of cousins, there is much to say on both sides + of the question.--TRANS. + +The peasant being fondest of his own family was driven to despair. It +was a monstrous thing for him to marry a cousin, even in the sixth +degree. It was impossible for him to get married in his own village +where the question of kinship stood so much in his way. He had to look +for a wife elsewhere, afar off. But in those days there was not much +intercourse or acquaintance between different places, and each hated +its own neighbours. On feast days one village would fight another +without knowing the reason why, as may sometimes still be seen in +countries never so thinly peopled. No one durst go seek a wife in the +very spot where men had been fighting together, where he himself would +have been in great danger. + +There was another difficulty. The lord of the young serf forbade his +marrying in the next lordship. Becoming the serf of his wife's lord he +would have been wholly lost to his own. Thus he was debarred by the +priest from his cousin, by the lord from a stranger; and so it +happened that many did not marry at all. + +The result was just what they pretended to avoid. In the Sabbath the +natural sympathies sprang forth again. There the youth found again her +whom he had known and loved at first, her whose "little husband" he +had been called at ten years old. Preferring her as he certainly did, +he paid but little heed to canonical hindrances. + +When we come to know the Medival Family better, we give up believing +the declamatory assumptions of a general mingling together of the +people forming so great a crowd. On the contrary, we feel that each +small group is so closely joined together, as to be utterly barred to +the entrance of a stranger. + +The serf was not jealous towards his own kin, but his poverty and +wretchedness made him exceedingly afraid of worsening his lot by +multiplying children whom he could not support. The priest and the +lord on their part wished to increase the number of their +serfs--wanted the woman to be always bearing; and the strangest +sermons were often delivered on this head,[61] varied sometimes with +threats and cruel reproaches. All the more resolute was the prudence +of the man. The woman, poor creature, unable to bear children fit to +live on such conditions, bearing them only to her sorrow, had a horror +of being made big. She never would have ventured to one of these night +festivals without being first assured, again and again, that no woman +ever came away pregnant.[62] + + [61] The ingenious M. Gnin has very recently collected the + most curious information on this point. + + [62] Boguet, Lancre, and other authors, are agreed on this + question. + +They were drawn thither by the banquet, the dancing, the lights, the +amusements; in nowise by carnal pleasure. The last thing they cared +for was to heighten their poverty, to bring one more wretch into the +world, to give another serf to their lord. + + * * * * * + +Cruel indeed was the social system of those days. Authority bade men +marry, but rendered marriage nearly impossible, at once by the +excessive misery of most, and the senseless cruelty of the canonical +prohibitions. + +The result was quite opposed to the purity thus preached. Under a show +of Christianity existed the patriarchate of Asia alone. + +Only the firstborn married. The younger brothers and sisters worked +under him and for him. In the lonely farms of the mountains of the +South, far from all neighbours and every woman, brothers and sisters +lived together, the latter serving and in all ways belonging to the +former; a way of life analogous to that in Genesis, to the marriages +of the Parsees, to the customs still obtaining in certain shepherd +tribes of the Himalayas. + +The mother's fate was still more revolting. She could not marry her +son to a kinswoman, and thus secure to herself a kindly-affected +daughter-in-law. Her son married, if he could, a girl from a distant +village, an enemy often, whose entrance proved baneful either to the +children of a former marriage, or to the poor mother, who was often +driven away by the stranger wife. You may not think it, but the fact +is certainly so. At the very least she was ill-used; banished from the +fireside, from the very table. + +There is a Swiss law forbidding the removal of the mother from her +place by the chimney-corner. + +She was exceedingly afraid of her son's marrying. But her lot was +little happier if he did not marry. None the less servant was she of +the young master of the house, who succeeded to all his father's +rights, even to that of beating her. This impious custom I have seen +still followed in the South: a son of five-and-twenty chastising his +mother when she got drunk. + + * * * * * + +How much greater her suffering in those days of savagery! Then it was +rather he who came back from the feast half-drunken, hardly knowing +what he was about. But one room, but one bed, was all they had between +them. She was by no means free from fear. He had seen his friends +married, and felt soured thereat. Thenceforth her way is marked by +tears, by utter weakness, by a woful self-surrender. Threatened by her +only God, her son, heart-broken at finding herself in a plight so +unnatural, she falls desperate. She tries to drown all her memories in +sleep. At length comes an issue for which neither of them can fairly +account, an issue such as nowadays will often happen in the poorer +quarters of large towns, where some poor woman is forced, frightened, +perhaps beaten, into bearing every outrage. Thus conquered, and, spite +of her scruples, far too resigned, she endured thenceforth a pitiable +bondage; a life of shame and sorrow, and abundant anguish, growing +with the yearly widening difference between their several ages. The +woman of six-and-thirty might keep watch over a son of twenty years: +but at fifty, alas! or still later, where would he be? From the great +Sabbath where thronged the people of far villages, he would be +bringing home a strange woman for his youthful mistress, a woman hard, +heartless, devoid of ruth, who would rob her of her son, her seat by +the fire, her bed, of the very house which she herself had made. + +To believe Lancre and others, Satan accounted the son for +praiseworthy, if he kept faithful to his mother, thus making a virtue +of a crime. If this be true, we must assume that the woman was +protected by a woman, that the Witch sided with the mother, to defend +her hearth against a daughter-in-law who, stick in hand, would have +sent her forth to beg. + +Lancre further maintains that "never was good Witch, but she sprang +from the love of a mother for her son." In this way, indeed, was born +the Persian soothsayer, the natural fruit, they say, of so hateful a +mystery; and thus the secrets of the magical art were kept confined to +one family which constantly renewed itself. + +An impious error led them to imitate the harmless mystery of the +husbandman, the unceasing vegetable round whereby the corn resown in +the furrow, brings forth its corn. + +The less monstrous unions of brother with sister, so common in the +East, and in Greece, were cold and rarely fruitful. They were wisely +abandoned; nor would people ever have returned to them, but for that +rebellious spirit which, being aroused by absurd restrictions, flung +itself foolishly into the opposite extreme. Thus from unnatural laws, +hatred begot unnatural customs. + +A cruel, an accursed time, a time big with despair! + + * * * * * + +We have been long discoursing; but the dawn is well-nigh come. In a +moment the hour will strike for the spirits to take themselves away. +The Witch feels her dismal flowers already withering on her brow. +Farewell, her royalty, perhaps her life! Where would they be, if the +day still found her there? + +Of Satan, what shall she make? A flame, a cinder? He asks for nothing +better; knowing well, in his craftiness, that the only way to live and +to be born again, is first to die. + +And will he die, he who as the mighty summoner of the dead, granted to +them that mourn their only joy on earth, the love they had lost, the +dream they had cherished? Ah, no! he is very sure to live. + +Will he die, he that mighty spirit who, finding Creation accurst, and +Nature lying cold upon the ground, flung thither like a dirty +foster-child from off the Church's garment, gathered her up and placed +her on his bosom? In truth it cannot be. + +Will he die, he the one great physician of the Middle Ages, of a +world that, falling sick, was saved by his poisons and bidden, poor +fool, to live? + +As the gay rogue is sure of living, he dies wholly at his ease. He +shuffles out of himself, cleverly burns up his fine goatskin, and +disappears in a blaze of dawn. + +But _she_ who made Satan, who made all things, good or ill, whose +countenance was given to so many forms of love, of devotion, and of +crime,--to what end will she come? Behold her all lonely on her waste +moorland. + +She is not, as they say, the dread of all. Many will bless her. More +than one have found her beautiful, would sell their share in Paradise +to dare be near her. But all around her is a wide gulf. They who +admire, are none the less afraid of this all-powerful Medea, with her +fair deep eyes, and the thrilling adders of her dark overflowing hair. + +To her thus lonely for ever, for evermore without love, what is there +left? Nothing but the Demon who had suddenly disappeared. + +"'Tis well, good Devil, let us go. I am utterly loath to stay here any +more. Hell itself is far preferable. Farewell to the world!" + +She must live but a very little longer, to play out the dreadful drama +she had herself begun. Near her, ready saddled by the obedient Satan, +stood a huge black horse, the fire darting from his eyes and nostrils. +She sprang upon him with one bound. + +They follow her with their eyes. The good folk say with alarm, "What +is to become of her?" With a frightful burst of laughter, she goes +off, vanishing swift as an arrow. They would like much to know what +becomes of the poor woman, but that they never will.[63] + + [63] See the end of the Witch of Berkeley, as told by William + of Malmesbury. + + + + +BOOK II. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE WITCH IN HER DECLINE--SATAN MULTIPLIED AND MADE COMMON. + + +The Devil's delicate fondling, the lesser Witch, begotten of the Black +Mass after the greater one's disappearance, came and bloomed in all +her malignant cat-like grace. This woman is quite the reverse of the +other: refined and sidelong in manner, sly and purring demurely, quick +also at setting up her back. There is nothing of the Titan about her, +to be sure. Far from that, she is naturally base; lewd from her cradle +and full of evil daintinesses. Her whole life is the expression of +those unclean thoughts which sometimes in a dream by night may assail +him who would shrink with horror from any such by day. + +She who is born with such a secret in her blood, with such instinctive +mastery of evil, she who has looked so far and so low down, will have +no religion, no respect for anything or person in the world; none even +for Satan, since he is a spirit still, while she has a particular +relish for all things material. + +In her childhood she spoiled everything. Tall and pretty she startled +all by her slovenly habits. With her Witchcraft becomes a mysterious +cooking up of some mysterious chemistry. From an early date she +delights to handle repulsive things, to-day a drug, to-morrow an +intrigue. Among diseases and love-affairs she is in her element. She +will make a clever go-between, a bold and skilful empiric. War will be +made against her as a fancied murderer, as a woman who deals in +poisons. And yet she has small taste for such things, is far from +murderous in her desires. Devoid of goodness, she yet loves life, +loves to work cures, to prolong others' lives. She is dangerous in two +ways: on the one hand by selling receipts for barrenness, and even for +abortion; while on the other, her headlong libertine fancy leads her +to compass a woman's fall with her cursed potions, to triumph in the +wicked deeds of love. + +Different, indeed, is this one from the other! She is a manufacturer: +the other was the ungodly one, the demon, the great rebellion, the +wife, we might almost say, the mother of Satan; for out of her and her +inward strength he grew up. But this one is the Devil's daughter +notwithstanding. Two things she derives from him, her uncleanness, her +love of handling life. These are her allotted walk, in these she is +quite an artist; an artist already trading in her lore, and we are +admitted into the business. + +It was said that she would perpetuate herself by the incest from which +she sprang. But she has no need of that: numberless little ones will +she beget without help from another. In less than fifty years, at the +opening of the fifteenth century, under Charles VI., a mighty +contagion was spread abroad. Whoever thought he had any secrets or any +receipts, whoever fancied himself a seer, whoever dreamed and +travelled in his dreams, would call himself a pet of Satan. Every +moonstruck woman adopted the awful name of Witch! + +A perilous, profitable name, cast at her in their hatred by people who +alternately insult and implore the unknown power. It is none the less +accepted, nay, is often claimed. To the children who follow her, to +the woman who, with threatening fists, hurl the name at her like a +stone, she turns round, saying proudly, "'Tis true, you have said +well!" + +The business improves, and men are mingled in it. Hence another fall +for the art. Still the least of the witches retains somewhat of the +Sibyl. Those other frowsy charlatans, those clownish jugglers, +mole-catchers, ratkillers, who throw spells over beasts, who sell +secrets which they have not, defiled these times with the stench of a +dismal black smoke, of fear and foolery. Satan grows enormous, gets +multiplied without end. 'Tis a poor triumph, however, for him. He +grows dull and sick at heart. Still the people keep flowing towards +him, bent on having no other God than he. Himself only is to himself +untrue. + + * * * * * + +In spite of two or three great discoveries, the fifteenth century is, +to my thinking, none the less a century tired out, a century of few +ideas. + +It opened right worthily with the Sabbath Royal of St. Denis, the wild +and woful ball given by Charles VI. in the abbey so named, to +commemorate the burial of Du Guesclin, which had taken place so many +years before. For three days and nights was Sodom wallowing among the +graves. The foolish king, not yet grown quite an idiot, compelled his +royal forefathers to share in the ball, by making their dry bones +dance in their biers. Death, becoming a go-between whether he would or +no, lent a sharp spur to the voluptuous revel. Then broke out those +unclean fashions of an age when ladies made themselves taller by +wearing the Devil's horned-bonnet, and gloried in dressing as if they +were all with child.[64] To this fashion they clung for the next forty +years. The younger folk on their side, not to be behind in +shamelessness, eclipsed them in the display of naked charms. The woman +wore Satan on her forehead in the shape of a horned head-dress: on the +feet of the bachelor and the page he was visible in the tapering +scorpion-like tips of their shoes. Under the mask of animals they +represented the lowest side of brute nature. The famous child stealer, +Retz, here took his first flight in villany. The great feudal ladies, +unbridled Jezebels, with less sense of shame in them than the men, +scorned all disguise whatever; displayed themselves with face +uncovered. In their sensual rages, in their mad parade of debauchery, +the king, the whole company might see the bottomless pit itself +yawning for the life, the feeling, the body, and the soul of each. + + [64] Even in a very mystic theme, in a work of such genius as + the _Lamb_ of Van Eyck (says John of Bruges), all the Virgins + seem big. It was only the quaint fashion of the fifteenth + century. + +Out of such doings come forth the conquered of Agincourt, a poor +generation of effete nobles, in whose miniatures you shiver to see the +falling away of their sorry limbs, as shown through the treacherous +tightness of their clothes.[65] + + [65] This wasting away of a used-up, enervated race, mars the + effect of all those splendid miniatures of the Court of + Burgundy, the Duke of Berry, &c. No amount of clever handling + could make good works of art out of subjects so very + pitiable. + + * * * * * + +Much to be pitied is the Witch who, when the great lady came home from +that royal feast, became her bosom-counsellor and agent charged with +the doing of impossible things. + +In her own castle, indeed, the lady is almost, if not all alone, +amidst a crowd of single men. To judge from romances you would think +she delighted in girding herself with an array of fair girls. Far +otherwise are we taught by history and common sense. Eleanor is not +so silly as to match herself against Rosamond. With all their own +rakishness, those queens and great ladies could be frightfully +jealous; witness she who is said by Henry Martin to have caused the +death of a girl admired by her husband, under the outrageous handling +of his soldiery. The power wielded by the lady's love depends, we +repeat, on her being alone. Whatever her age and figure, she becomes +the dream of all. The Witch takes mischievous delight in making her +abuse her goddesship, in tempting her to make game of the men she +humbles and befools. She goes to all lengths of boldness, even +treating them like very beasts. Look at them being transformed! Down +on all fours they tumble, like fawning monkeys, absurd bears, lewd +dogs, or swine eager to follow their contemptuous Circ. + +Her pity rises thereat? Nay, but she grows sick of it all, and kicks +those crawling beasts with her foot. The thing is impure, but not +heinous enough. An absurd remedy is found for her complaint. These +others being so nought, she is to have something yet more +nought--namely, a little sweetheart. The advice is worthy of the +Witch. Love's spark shall be lighted before its time in some young +innocent, sleeping the pure sleep of childhood! Here you have the ugly +tale of little John of Saintr, pink of cherubim, and other paltry +puppets of the Age of Decay. + +Through all those pedantic embellishments and sentimental +moralizings, one clearly marks the vile cruelty that lies below. The +fruit was killed in the flower. Here, in a manner, is the very "eating +of children," which was laid so often to the Witch's charge. Anyhow, +she drained their lives. The fair lady who caresses one in so tender +and motherly a way, what is she but a vampire, draining the blood of +the weak? The upshot of such atrocities we may gather from the tale +itself. Saintr becomes a perfect knight, but so utterly frail and +weak as to be dared and defied by the lout of a peasant priest, in +whom the lady, become better advised, has seen something that will +suit her best. + + * * * * * + +Such idle whimsies heighten the surfeit, the mad rage of an empty +mind. Circ among her beasts grows so weary and heartsick that she +would be a beast herself. She fancies herself wild, and locks herself +up. From her tower she casts an evil eye towards the gloomy forest. +She fancies herself a prisoner, and rages like a wolf chained fast. +"Let the old woman come this moment: I want her. Run!" Two minutes +later again: "What! is she not come yet?" + +At last she is come. "Hark you: I have a sore longing--invincible, as +you know--to choke you, to drown you, or to give you up to the bishop, +who already claims you. You have but one way of escape, that is, to +satisfy another longing of mine by changing me into a wolf. I feel +wretchedly bored, weary of keeping still. I want, by night at least, +to run free about the forest. Away with stupid servants, with dogs +that stun me with their noise, with clumsy horses that kick out and +shy at a thicket." + +"But if you were caught, my lady----" + +"Insolent woman! You would rather die, then?" + +"At least you have heard the story of the woman-wolf, whose paw was +cut off.[66] But, oh! how sorry I should be." + + [66] Among the great ladies imprisoned in their castles, this + dreadful fancy was not rare. They hungered and thirsted for + freedom, for savage freedom. Boguet mentions how, among the + hills of Auvergne, a hunter one night drew his sword upon a + she-wolf, but missing her, cut off her paw. She fled away + limping. He came to a neighbouring castle to seek the + hospitality of him who dwelt there. The gentleman, on seeing + him, asked if he had had good sport. By way of answer he + thought to draw out of his pouch the she-wolf's paw; but what + was his amazement to find instead of the paw a hand, and on + one of the fingers a ring, which the gentleman recognized as + belonging to his wife! Going at once in search of her, he + found her hurt and hiding her fore-arm. To the arm which had + lost its hand he fitted that which the hunter had brought + him, and the lady was fain to own that she it was, who in the + likeness of a wolf had attacked the hunter, and afterwards + saved herself by leaving a paw on the battle-field. The + husband had the cruelty to give her up to justice, and she + was burnt. + +"That is my concern. I will hear nothing more, I am in a hurry--have +been barking already. What happiness, to hunt all by myself in the +clear moonlight; by myself to fasten on the hind, or man likewise if +he comes near me; to attack the tender children, and, above all, to +set my teeth in the women; ay, the women, for I hate them all--not one +like yourself. Don't start, I won't bite you--you are not to my taste, +and besides, you have no blood in you! 'Tis blood I crave--blood!" + +She can no longer refuse. "Nothing easier, my lady. To-night, at nine +o'clock, you will drink this. Lock yourself up, and then turning into +a wolf, while they think you are still here, you can scour the +forest." + +It is done; and next morning the lady finds herself worn out and +depressed. In one night she must have travelled some thirty leagues. +She has been hunting and slaying until she is covered with blood. But +the blood, perhaps, comes from her having torn herself among the +brambles. + +A great triumph and danger also for her who has wrought this miracle. +From the lady, however, whose command provoked it, she receives but a +gloomy welcome. "Witch, 'tis a fearful power you have; I should never +have guessed it. But now I fear and dread you. Good cause, indeed, +they have to hate you. A happy day will it be when you are burnt. I +can ruin you when I please. One word of mine about last night, and my +peasants would this evening whet their scythes upon you. Out, you +black-looking, hateful old hag!" + + * * * * * + +The great folk, her patrons, launch her into strange adventures. For +what can she refuse to her terrible protectors, when nothing but the +castle saves her from the priest, from the faggot? If the baron, on +his return from a crusade, being bent on copying the manners of the +Turks, sends for her, and orders her to steal him a few children, what +can she do? Raids such as those grand ones in which two thousand pages +were sometimes carried off from Greek ground to enter the seraglio, +were by no means unknown to the Christians; were known from the tenth +century to the barons of England, at a later date to the knights of +Rhodes and Malta. The famous Giles of Retz, the only one brought to +trial, was punished, not for having stolen his small serfs, a crime +not then uncommon, but for having sacrificed them to Satan. She who +actually stole them, and was ignorant, doubtless, of their future lot, +found herself between two perils: on the one hand the peasant's fork +and scythe; on the other, those torments which awaited her, when +recusant, within the tower. Retz's terrible Italian would have made +nothing of pounding her in a mortar.[67] + + [67] See my _History of France_, and still more the learned + and careful account by the lamented Armand Guraud: _Notice + sur Gilles de Rais_, Nantes, 1855. We there find that the + purveyors of that horrible child's charnel-house were mostly + men. + +On all sides the perils and the profits went together. A position more +frightfully corrupting could not have been found. The Witches +themselves did not deny the absurd powers imputed to them by the +people. They averred that by means of a doll stuck over with needles +they could weave their spells around whomever they pleased, making him +waste away until he died. They averred that mandragora, torn from +beneath the gallows by the teeth of a dog, who invariably died +therefrom, enabled them to pervert the understanding; to turn men into +beasts, to give women over to idiotcy and madness. Still more dreadful +was the furious frenzy caused by the Thorn-apple, or Datura, which +made men dance themselves to death, and go through a thousand shameful +antics, without their own knowledge or remembrance.[68] + + [68] Pouchet, on the _Solane and General Botany_. Nysten, + _Dictionary of Medicine_, article _Datura_. The robbers + employed these potions but too often. A butcher of Aix and + his wife, whom they wanted to rob of their money, were made + to drink of some such, and became so maddened thereby, that + they danced all one night naked in a cemetery. + + * * * * * + +Hence there grew up against them a feeling of boundless hatred, +mingled with as extreme a fear. Sprenger, who wrote the _Hammer for +Witches_, relates with horror how, in a season of snow, when all the +roads were broken up, he saw a wretched multitude, wild with terror, +and spell-bound by evils all too real, fill up all the approaches to a +little German town. "Never," says he, "did you behold so mighty a +pilgrimage to our Lady of Grace, or her of the wilderness. All these +people, who hobbled, crawled, and stumbled among the quagmires, were +on their way to the Witch, to beseech the grace of the Devil upon +themselves. How proud and excited must the old woman have felt at +seeing so large a concourse prostrate before her feet!"[69] + + [69] The Witch delighted in causing the noble and the great + to undergo the most outrageous trials of their love. We know + that queens and ladies of rank (in Italy even to the last + century) held their court at times the most forbidding, and + exacted the most unpleasant services from their favourites. + There was nothing too mean, too repulsive, for the domestic + brute--the _cicisbeo_, the priest, the half-witted page--to + undergo, in the stupid belief that the power of a philtre + increased with its nastiness. This was sad enough when the + ladies were neither young, nor beautiful, nor witty. But what + of that other astounding fact, that a Witch, who was neither + a great lady, nor young, nor fair, but poor, and perhaps a + serf, clad only in dirty rags, could still by her malice, by + the strange power of her raging lewdness, by some + bewitchingly treacherous spell, stupefy the gravest + personages, and abase them to so low a depth? Some monks of a + monastery on the Rhine, wherein, as in many other German + convents, none but a noble of four hundred years' standing + could gain admission, sorrowfully owned to Sprenger that they + had seen three of their brethren bewitched in turn, and a + fourth killed by a woman, who boldly said, "I did it, and + will do so again: they cannot escape me, for they have + eaten," &c. (Sprenger, _Malleus maleficarum_, _qustio_, vii. + p. 84.) "The worst of it is," says Sprenger, "that we have no + means of punishing or examining her: _so she lives still_." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE HAMMER FOR WITCHES. + + +The witches took small care to hide their game. Rather they boasted of +it; and it was, indeed, from their own lips that Sprenger picked up +the bulk of the tales that grace his handbook. It is a pedantic work, +marked out into the absurd divisions and subdivisions employed by the +followers of St. Thomas Aquinas; but a work sincere withal, and +frank-spoken, written by a man so thoroughly frightened by this +dreadful duel between God and the Devil, wherein God _generally_ +allows the Devil to win, that the only remedy he can discern is to +pursue the latter fire in hand, and burn with all speed those bodies +which he had chosen for his dwelling-place. + +Sprenger's sole merit is the fact of his having written a complete +book, which crowns a mighty system, a whole literature. To the old +_Penitentiaries_, handbooks of confessors for the inquisition of sin, +succeeded the _Directories_ for the inquisition of heresy, the +greatest sin of all. But for Witchcraft, the greatest of all heresies, +special handbooks or directories were appointed. Hammers for Witches, +to wit. These handbooks, continually enriched by the zeal of the +Dominicans, attained perfection in the _Malleus_ of Sprenger, the +book by which he himself was guided during his great mission to +Germany, and which for a century after served as a guide and light for +the courts of the Inquisition. + +How was Sprenger led to the study of these things? He tells us that +being in Rome, at a refectory where the monks were entertaining some +pilgrims, he saw two from Bohemia; one a young priest, the other his +father. The father sighing prayed for a successful journey. Touched +with a kindly feeling Sprenger asked him why he sorrowed. Because his +son was _possessed_: at great cost and with much trouble he had +brought him to the tomb of the saints, at Rome. + +"Where is this son of yours?" said the monk. + +"By your side." + +"At this answer I shrank back alarmed. I scanned the young priest's +figure, and was amazed to see him eat with so modest an air, and +answer with so much gentleness. He informed me that, on speaking +somewhat sharply to an old woman, she had laid him under a spell, and +that spell was under a tree. What tree? The Witch steadily refused to +say." + +Sprenger's charity led him to take the possessed from church to +church, from relic to relic. At every halting-place there was an +exorcism, followed by furious cries, contortions, jabbering in every +language, and gambols without number: all this before the people, who +followed the pair with shuddering admiration. The devils, so abundant +in Germany, were scarcer among the Italians. For some days Rome talked +of nothing else. The noise made by this affair doubtless brought the +Dominican into public notice. He studied, collected all the _Mallei_, +and other manuscript handbooks, and became a first-rate authority in +the processes against demons. His _Malleus_ was most likely composed +during the twenty years between this adventure and the important +mission entrusted to Sprenger by Pope Innocent VIII., in 1484. + + * * * * * + +For that mission to Germany a clever man was specially needed; a man +of wit and ability, who might overcome the dislike of honest German +folk for the dark system it would be his care to introduce. In the Low +Countries Rome had suffered a rude check, which brought the +Inquisition into vogue there, and consequently closed France against +it: Toulouse alone, as being the old Albigensian country, having +endured the Inquisition. About the year 1460 a Penitentiary[70] of +Rome, being made Dean of Arras, thought to strike an awe-inspiring +blow at the _Chambers of Rhetoric_, literary clubs which had begun to +handle religious questions. He had one of these Rhetoricians burnt for +a wizard, and along with him some wealthy burgesses, and even a few +knights. The nobles were angry at this near approach to themselves: +the public voice was raised in violent outcry. The Inquisition was +cursed and spat upon, especially in France. The Parliament of Paris +roughly closed its doors upon it; and thus by her awkwardness did Rome +lose her opportunity of establishing that Reign of Terror throughout +the North. + + [70] Officer charged with the absolution of + penitents.--TRANS. + +About 1484 the time seemed better chosen. The Inquisition had grown to +so dreadful a height in Spain, setting itself even above the king, +that it seemed already confirmed as a conquering institution, able to +move forward alone, to make its way everywhere, and seize upon +everything. In Germany, indeed, it was hindered by the jealous +antagonism of the spiritual princes, who, having courts of their own, +and holding inquisitions by themselves, would never agree to accept +that of Rome. But the position of these princes towards the popular +movements by which they were then so greatly disquieted, soon rendered +them more manageable. All along the Rhine, and throughout Swabia, even +on the eastern side towards Salzburg, the country seemed to be +undermined. At every moment burst forth some fresh revolt of the +peasantry. A vast underground volcano, an invisible lake of fire, +showed itself, as it were, from place to place, in continual spouts of +flame. More dreaded than that of Germany, the foreign Inquisition +appeared at a most seasonable hour for spreading terror through the +country, and crushing the rebellious spirits, by roasting, as the +wizards of to-day, those who might else have been the insurgents of +to-morrow. It was a beautiful _derivative_, an excellent popular +weapon for putting down the people. This time the storm got turned +upon the Wizards, as in 1349, and on many other occasions it had been +launched against the Jews. + +Only the right man was needed. He who should be the first to set up +his judgment-seat in sight of the jealous courts of Mentz and Cologne, +in presence of the mocking mobs of Strazburg or Frankfort, must indeed +be a man of ready wit. He would need great personal cleverness to +atone for, to cause a partial forgetfulness of his hateful mission. +Rome, too, has always plumed herself on choosing the best men for her +work. Caring little for questions, and much for persons, she thought +rightly enough that the successful issue of her affairs depended on +the special character of her several agents abroad. Was Sprenger the +right man? He was a German to begin with, a Dominican enjoying +beforehand the support of that dreaded order through all its convents, +through all its schools. Need was there of a worthy son of the +schools, a good disputant, of a man well skilled in the _Sum_,[71] +grounded firm in his St. Thomas, able at any moment to quote texts. +All this Sprenger certainly was: and best of all, he was a fool. + + [71] A medival text-book on theology.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +"It has been often said that _diabolus_ comes from _dia_, 'two,' and +_bolus_, 'a pill or ball,' because devouring alike soul and body, he +makes but one pill, one mouthful of the two. But"--he goes on to say +with the gravity of _Sganarelle_--"in Greek etymology _diabolus_ means +'shut up in a house of bondage,' or rather 'flowing down' (Teufel?), +that is to say, falling, because he fell from heaven." + +Whence comes the word sorcery (_malfice_)? From _maleficiendo_, which +means _male de fide sentiendo_.[72] A curious etymology, but one that +will hold a great deal. Once trace a resemblance between witchcraft +and evil opinions, and every wizard becomes a heretic, every doubter a +wizard. All who think wrongly can be burnt for wizards. This was done +at Arras; and they long to establish the same rule, little by little, +everywhere else. + + [72] "Thinking ill of the faith."--TRANS. + +Herein lies the once sure merit of Sprenger. A fool, but a fearless +one, he boldly lays down the most unwelcome theses. Others would have +striven to shirk, to explain away, to diminish, the objections that +might be made. Not he, however. From the first page he puts plainly +forward, one by one, the natural manifest reasons for not believing in +the Satanic miracles. To these he coldly adds: "_They are but so many +heretical mistakes_." And without stopping to refute those reasons, he +copies you out the adverse passages found in the Bible, St. Thomas, in +books of legends, in the canonists, and the scholiasts. Having first +shown you the right interpretation, he grinds it to powder by dint of +authority. + +He sits down satisfied, calm as a conqueror; seeming to say, "Well, +what say you now? Will you dare use your reason again? Go and doubt +away then; doubt, for instance, that the Devil delights in setting +himself between wife and husband, although the Church and all the +canonists repeatedly admit this reason for a divorce!" + +Of a truth this is unanswerable: nobody will breathe so much as a +whisper in reply. Since Sprenger heads his handbook for judges by +declaring the slightest doubt _heretical_, the judge stands bound +accordingly; he feels that he cannot stumble, that if unhappily he +should ever be tempted by an impulse of doubt or humanity, he must +begin by condemning himself and delivering his own body to the flames. + + * * * * * + +The same method prevails everywhere: first the sensible meaning, which +is then confronted openly, without reserve, by the negation of all +good sense. Some one, for instance, might be tempted to say that as +love is in the soul, there is no need to account for it by the +mysterious working of the Devil. That is surely specious, is it not? + +"By no means," says Sprenger. + +"I mark a difference. He who cuts wood does not cause it to burn: he +only does so indirectly. The woodcutter is Love; see Denis the +Areopagite, Origen, John of Damascus. Therefore, love is but the +indirect cause of love." + +What a thing, you see, to have studied! No weak school could have +turned out such a man. Only Paris, Louvain, or Cologne, had machinery +fit to mould the human brain. The school of Paris was mighty: for +dog-Latin who can be matched with the _Janotus_ of Gargantua?[73] But +mightier yet was Cologne, glorious queen of darkness, whence Hutten +drew the type of his _Obscuri viri_, that thriving and fruitful race +of obscurantists and ignoramuses.[74] + + [73] A character in Rabelais. "Date nobis clochas nostras, + &c."--_Gargantua_, ch. 19.--TRANS. + + [74] Ulrich von Hutten, friend of Luther, and author of the + witty _Epistol obscurorum virorum_.--TRANS. + +This massive logician, so full of words, so devoid of meaning, sworn +foe of nature as well as reason, takes his seat with a proud reliance +on his books and gown, on his dirt and dust. On one side of his +judgement-table lies the _Sum_, on the other the _Directory_. Beyond +these he never goes: at all else he only smiles. On such a man as he +there is no imposing: he is not the man to utter anent astrology or +alchemy nonsense not so foolish but that others might be led thereby +to observe truly. And yet Sprenger is a freethinker: he is sceptical +about old receipts! Albert the Great may aver, that some sage in a +spring of water will suffice to raise a storm, but Sprenger only +shakes his head. Sage indeed! Tell that to others, I beg. For all my +little experience, I see herein the craft of One who would put us on +the wrong scent, that cunning Prince of the Air; but he will fare +ill, for he has to deal with a doctor more subtle than the Subtle One +himself. + +I should have liked to see face to face this wonderful specimen of a +judge, and the people who were brought before him. The creatures that +God might bring together from two different worlds would not be more +unlike, more strange to each other, more utterly wanting in a common +language. The old hag, a skeleton in tatters, with an eye flashing +forth evil things, a being thrice cooked in hell-fire; and the +ill-looking hermit shepherd of the Black Forest or the upper Alpine +wastes--such are the savages offered to the leaden gaze of a +scholarling, to the judgement of a schoolman. + +Not long will they let him toil in his judgment-seat. They will tell +all without being tortured. Come the torture will indeed, but +afterwards, by way of complement and crown to the law-procedure. They +explain and relate to order whatever they have done. The Devil is the +Witch's bedfellow, the shepherd's intimate friend. She, for her part, +smiles triumphantly, feels a manifest joy in the horror of those +around. + +Truly, the old woman is very mad, and equally so the shepherd. Are +they foolish? Not at all, but far otherwise. They are refined, subtle, +skilled in growing herbs, and seeing through walls. Still more clearly +do they see those monumental ass's ears that overshadow the doctor's +cap. Clearest of all is the fear he has of them, for in vain does he +try to bear him boldly; he does nought but tremble. He himself owns +that, if the priest who adjures the demon does not take care, the +Devil will change his lodging only to pass into the priest himself, +feeling all the more proud of dwelling in a body dedicated to God. Who +knows but these simple Devils of Witches and shepherds might even +aspire to inhabit an inquisitor? He is far from easy in mind when in +his loudest voice he says to the old woman, "If your master is so +mighty, why do I not feel his blows?" + +"And, indeed I felt them but too strongly," says the poor man in his +book. "When I was in Ratisbon, how often he would come knocking at my +windowpanes! How often he stuck pins in my cap! A hundred visions too +did I have of dogs, monkeys," &c. + + * * * * * + +The dearest delight of that great logician, the Devil, is, by the +mouth of the seeming old woman, to push the doctor with awkward +arguments, with crafty questions, from which he can only escape by +acting like the fish who saves himself by troubling the water and +turning it black as ink. For instance, "The Devil does no more than +God allows him: why, then, punish his tools?" Or again, "We are not +free. As in the case of Job, the Devil is allowed by God to tempt and +beset us, to urge us on by blows. Should we, then, punish him who is +not free?" Sprenger gets out of that by saying, "We are free beings." +Here come plenty of texts. "You are made serfs only by covenant with +the Evil One." The answer to this would be but too ready: "If God +allows the Evil One to tempt us into making covenants, he renders +covenants possible," &c. + +"I am very good," says he, "to listen to yonder folk. He is a fool who +argues with the Devil." So say all the rest likewise. They all cheer +the progress of the trial: all are strongly moved, and show in murmurs +their eagerness for the execution. They have seen enough of men +hanged. As for the Wizard and the Witch, 'twill be a curious treat to +see those two faggots crackling merrily in the flames. + +The judge has the people on his side, so he is not embarrassed. +According to his _Directory_ three witnesses would be enough. Are not +three witnesses readily found, especially to witness a falsehood? In +every slanderous town, in every envious village teeming with the +mutual hate of neighbours, witnesses abound. Besides, the _Directory_ +is a superannuated book, a century old. In that century of light, the +fifteenth, all is brought to perfection. If witnesses are wanting, we +are content with the _public voice_, the general clamour.[75] + + [75] Faustin Hlie, in his learned and luminous _Trait de + l'Instruction Criminelle_ (vol. i. p. 398), has clearly + explained the manner in which Pope Innocent III., about 1200, + suppressed the safeguards theretofore required in any + prosecution, especially the risk incurred by prosecutors of + being punished for slander. Instead of these were established + the dismal processes of _Denunciation and Inquisition_. The + frightful levity of these latter methods is shown by Soldan. + Blood was shed like water. + +A genuine outcry, born of fear; the piteous cry of victims, of the +poor bewitched. Sprenger is greatly moved thereat. Do not fancy him +one of those unfeeling schoolmen, the lovers of a dry abstraction. He +has a heart: for which very reason he is so ready to kill. He is +compassionate, full of lovingkindness. He feels pity for yon weeping +woman, but lately pregnant, whose babe the witch had smothered by a +look. He feels pity for the poor man whose land she wasted with hail. +He pities the husband, who though himself no wizard, clearly sees his +wife to be a witch, and drags her with a rope round her neck before +Sprenger, who has her burnt. + +From a cruel judge escape was sometimes possible; but from our worthy +Sprenger it was hopeless. His humanity is too strong: it needs great +management, a very large amount of ready wit, to avoid a burning at +his hands. One day there was brought before him the plaint of three +good ladies of Strasburg who, at one same hour of the same day, had +been struck by an arm unseen. Ah, indeed! They are fain to accuse a +man of evil aspect, of having laid them under a spell. On being +brought before the inquisitor, the man vows and swears by all the +saints that he knows nothing about these ladies, has never so much as +seen them. The judge is hard of believing: nor tears nor oaths avail +aught with him. His great compassion for the ladies made him +inexorable, indignant at the man's denials. Already he was rising from +his seat. The man would have been tortured into confessing his guilt, +as the most innocent often did. He got leave to speak, and said: "I +remember, indeed, having struck some one yesterday at the hour named; +but whom? No Christian beings, but only three cats which came +furiously biting at my legs." The judge, like a shrewd fellow, saw the +whole truth of the matter; the poor man was innocent; the ladies were +doubtless turned on certain days into cats, and the Evil One amused +himself by sending them at the legs of Christian folk, in order to +bring about the ruin of these latter by making them pass for wizards. + +A judge of less ability would never have hit upon this. But such a man +was not always to be had. It was needful to have always handy on the +table of the Inquisition a good fool's guide, to reveal to simple and +inexperienced judges the tricks of the Old Enemy, the best way of +baffling him, the clever and deep-laid tactics employed with such +happy effect by the great Sprenger in his campaigns on the Rhine. To +that end the _Malleus_, which a man was required to carry in his +pocket, was commonly printed in small 18mo, a form at that time +scarce. It would not have been seemly for a judge in difficulties to +open a folio on the table before his audience. But his handbook of +folly he might easily squint at from the corner of his eye, or turn +over its leaves as he held it under the table. + + * * * * * + +This _Malleus_ (or Mallet), like all books of the same class, contains +a singular avowal, namely, that the Devil is gaining ground; in other +words, that God is losing it; that mankind, after being saved by +Christ, is becoming the Devil's prey. Too clearly indeed does he step +forward from legend to legend. What a way he has made between the time +of the Gospels, when he was only too glad to get into the swine, and +the days of Dante, when, as lawyer and divine, he argues with the +saints, pleads his cause, and by way of closing a successful +syllogism, bears away the soul he was fighting for, saying, with a +triumphant laugh, "You didn't know that I was a logician!" + +In the earlier days of the Middle Ages he waits till the last pangs to +seize the soul and bear it off. Saint Hildegarde, about 1100, thinks +that "_he cannot enter the body of a living man_, for else his limbs +would fly off in all directions: it is but the shadow and the smoke of +the Devil which pass therein." That last gleam of good sense vanishes +in the twelfth century. In the thirteenth we find a suppliant so +afraid of being caught alive that he has himself watched day and night +by two hundred armed men. + +Then begins a period of increasing terror, in which men trust +themselves less and ever less to God's protection. The Demon is no +longer a stealthy sprite, no longer a thief by night, gliding through +the gloom. He becomes the fearless adversary, the daring ape of +Heaven, who in broad daylight mimics God's creation under God's own +sun. Is it the legends tell us this? Nay, it is the greatest of the +doctors. "The Devil," says Albert the Great, "transforms all living +things." St. Thomas goes yet further. "All changes that may occur +naturally by means of seeds, can be copied by the Devil." What an +astounding concession, which coming from the mouth of so grave a +personage, means nothing short of setting up one Creator face to face +with another! "But in things done without the germinal process," he +adds, "such as the changing of men into beasts or the resurrection of +the dead, there the Devil can do nothing." Thus to God is left the +smaller part of His work! He may only perform miracles, a kind of +action alike singular and infrequent. But the daily miracle of life is +not for Him alone: His copyist, the Devil, shares with Him the world +of nature! + +For man himself, whose weak eyes see no difference between nature as +sprung from God and nature as made by the Devil, here is a world split +in twain! A dreadful uncertainty hangs over everything. Nature's +innocence is gone. The clear spring, the pale flower, the little bird, +are these indeed of God, or only treacherous counterfeits, snares laid +out for man? Back! all things look doubtful! The better of the two +creations, being suspiciously like the other, becomes eclipsed and +conquered. The shadow of the Devil covers up the day, spreads over all +life. To judge by appearances and the fears of men, he has ceased to +share the world; he has taken it all to himself. + +So matters stand in the days of Sprenger. His book teems with saddest +avowals of God's weakness. "These things," he says, "are done with +God's leave." To permit an illusion so entire, to let people believe +that God is nought and the Devil everything, is more than mere +_permission_; is tantamount to decreeing the damnation of countless +souls whom nothing can save from such an error. No prayers, no +penances, no pilgrimages, are of any avail; nor even, so it is said, +the sacrament of the altar. Strange and mortifying avowal! The very +nuns who have just confessed themselves, declare _while the host is +yet in their mouths_, that even then they feel the infernal lover +troubling them without fear or shame, troubling and refusing to leave +his hold. And being pressed with further questions, they add, through +their tears, that he has a body _because he has a soul_. + + * * * * * + +The Manichees of old, and the more modern Albigenses, were charged +with believing in the Power of Evil struggling side by side with Good, +with making the Devil equal to God. Here, however, he is more than +equal; for if God through His holy sacrament has still no power for +good, the Devil certainly seems superior. + +I am not surprised at the wondrous sight then offered by the world. +Spain with a darksome fury, Germany with the frightened pedantic rage +certified in the _Malleus_, assail the insolent conqueror through the +wretches in whom he chooses to dwell. They burn, they destroy the +dwellings in which he has taken up his abode. Finding him too strong +for men's souls, they try to hunt him out of their bodies. But what is +the good of it all? You burn one old woman and he settles himself in +her neighbour. Nay, more; if Sprenger may be trusted, he fastens +sometimes on the exorcising priest, and triumphs over his very judge. + +Among other expedients, the Dominicans advised recourse to the +intercession of the Virgin, by a continual repeating of the _Ave +Maria_. Sprenger, for his part, always averred that such a remedy was +but a momentary one. You might be caught between two prayers. Hence +came the invention of the rosary, the chaplet of beads, by means of +which any number of aves might be mumbled through, whilst the mind was +busied elsewhere. Whole populations adopted this first essay of an art +thereafter to be used by Loyola in his attempt to govern the world, an +art of which his _Exercises_ furnish the ingenious groundwork. + + * * * * * + +All this seems opposed to what was said in the foregoing chapter as to +the decline of Witchcraft. The Devil is now popular and everywhere +present. He seems to have come off conqueror: but has he gained by +his victory? What substantial profit has he reaped therefrom? + +Much, as beheld in his new phase of a scientific rebellion which is +about to bring forth the bright Renaissance. None, if beheld under his +old aspect, as the gloomy Spirit of Witchcraft. The stories told of +him in the sixteenth century, if more numerous, more widespread than +ever, readily swing towards the grotesque. People tremble, but they +laugh withal.[76] + + [76] See my _Memoirs of Luther_, concerning the Kilcrops, &c. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +CENTURY OF TOLERATION IN FRANCE: REACTION. + + +The Church forfeited the wizard's property to the judge and the +prosecutor. Wherever the Canon Law was enforced the trials for +witchcraft waxed numerous, and brought much wealth to the clergy. +Wherever the lay tribunals claimed the management of these trials they +grew scarce and disappeared, at least for a hundred years in France, +from 1450 to 1550. + +The first gleam of light shot forth from France in the middle of the +fifteenth century. The inquiry made by Parliament into the trial of +Joan of Arc, and her after reinstalment, set people thinking on the +intercourse of spirits, good and bad; on the errors, also, of the +spiritual courts. She whom the English, whom the greatest doctors of +the Council of Basil pronounced a Witch, appeared to Frenchmen a saint +and sibyl. Her reinstalment proclaimed to France the beginning of an +age of toleration. The Parliament of Paris likewise reinstalled the +alleged Waldenses of Arras. In 1498 it discharged as mad one who was +brought before it as a wizard. None such were condemned in the reigns +of Charles VIII., Louis XII., and Francis I. + + * * * * * + +On the contrary, Spain, under the pious Isabella (1506) and the +Cardinal Ximenes, began burning witches. In 1515, Geneva, being then +under a Bishop, burned five hundred in three months. The Emperor +Charles V., in his German Constitutions, vainly sought to rule, that +"Witchcraft, as causing damage to goods and persons, is a question for +_civil_, not ecclesiastic law." In vain did he do away the right of +confiscation, except in cases of treason. The small prince-bishops, +whose revenues were largely swelled by trials for witchcraft, kept on +burning at a furious rate. In one moment, as it were, six hundred +persons were burnt in the infinitesimal bishopric of Bamberg, and nine +hundred in that of Wurtzburg. The way of going to work was very +simple. Begin by using torture against the witnesses; create witnesses +for the prosecution by means of pain and terror; then, by dint of +excessive kindliness, draw from the accused a certain avowal, and +believe that avowal in the teeth of proven facts. A witch, for +instance, owns to having taken from the graveyard the body of an +infant lately dead, that she might use it in her magical compounds. +Her husband bids them go the graveyard, for the child is there still. +On being disinterred, the child is found all right in his coffin. But +against the witness of his own eyes the judge pronounces it _an +appearance_, a cheat of the Devil. He prefers the wife's confession to +the fact itself; and she is burnt forthwith.[77] + + [77] For this and other facts regarding Germany, see Soldan. + +So far did matters go among these worthy prince-bishops, that after a +while, Ferdinand II., the most bigoted of all emperors, the emperor of +the Thirty Years' War, was fain to interfere, to set up at Bamberg an +imperial commissary, who should maintain the law of the empire, and +see that the episcopal judge did not begin the trial with tortures +which settled it beforehand, which led straight to the stake. + + * * * * * + +Witches were easily caught by their confessions, sometimes without the +torture. Many of them were half mad. They would own to turning +themselves into beasts. The Italian women often became cats, and +gliding under the doors, sucked, they said, the blood of children. In +the land of mighty forests, in Lorraine and on the Jura, the women, of +their own accord, became wolves, and, if you could believe them, +devoured the passers by, even when nobody had passed by. They were +burnt. Some girls, who swore they had given themselves to the Devil, +were found to be maidens still. They, too, were burnt. Several seemed +in a great hurry, as if they wanted to be burnt. Sometimes it happened +from raging madness, sometimes from despair. An Englishwoman being led +to the stake, said to the people, "Do not blame my judges. I wanted to +put an end to my own self. My parents kept aloof from me in their +dread. My husband had disowned me. I could not have lived on without +disgrace. I longed for death, and so I told a lie." + +The first words of open toleration against silly Sprenger, his +frightful Handbook, and his Inquisitors, were spoken by Molitor, a +lawyer of Constance. He made this sensible remark, that the +confessions of witches should not be taken seriously, because it was +the very Father of Lies who spoke by their mouths. He laughed at the +miracles of Satan, affirming them to be all illusory. In an indirect +way, such jesters as Hutten and Erasmus dealt violent blows at the +Inquisition, through their satires on the Dominican idiots. Cardan[78] +said, straightforwardly, "In order to obtain forfeit property, the +same persons acted as accusers and judges, and invented a thousand +stories in proof." + + [78] A famous Italian physician, who lived through the + greater part of the sixteenth century.--TRANS. + +That apostle of toleration, Chatillon, who maintained against +Catholics and Protestants both, that heretics should not be burnt, +though he said nothing about wizards, put men of sense in a better +way. Agrippa,[79] Lavatier, above all, Wyer[80]] the illustrious +physician of Clves, rightly said that if those wretched witches were +the Devil's plaything, we must lay the blame on the Devil, not on +them; must cure, instead of burning them. Some physicians of Paris +soon pushed incredulity so far as to maintain that the possessed and +the witches were simply knaves. This was going too far. Most of them +were sufferers under the sway of an illusion. + + [79] Cornelius Agrippa, of Cologne, born in 1486, sometime + Secretary of the Emperor Maximilian, and author of two works + famous in their day, _Vanity of the Sciences_, and _Occult + Philosophy_.--TRANS. + + [80] A friend of Sir Philip Sydney, who sent for him when + dying.--TRANS. + +The dark reign of Henry II. and Diana of Poitiers ends the season of +toleration. Under Diana, they burn heretics and wizards again. On the +other hand, Catherine of Medici, surrounded as she was by astrologers +and magicians, would have protected the latter. Their numbers +increased amain. The wizard Trois-Echelles, who was tried in the reign +of Charles IX., reckons them at a hundred thousand, declaring all +France to be one Witch. + +Agrippa and others affirm, that all science is contained in magic. In +white magic undoubtedly. But the fears of fools and their fanatic +rage, put little difference between them. In spite of Wyer, in spite +of those true philosophers, Light and Toleration, a strong reaction +towards darkness set in from a quarter whence it was least expected. +Our magistrates, who for nearly a century, had shown themselves +enlightened and fair-dealing, now threw themselves into the Spanish +Catholicon[81] and the fury of the Leaguists,[82] until they waxed +more priest-like than the priests themselves. While scouting the +Inquisition from France, they matched, and well-nigh eclipsed it by +their own deeds: the Parliament of Toulouse alone sending four hundred +human bodies at one time to the stake. Think of the horror, the black +smoke of all that flesh, of the frightful melting and bubbling of the +fat amidst those piercing shrieks and yells! So accursed, so sickening +a sight had not been seen, since the Albigenses were broiled and +roasted. + + [81] Catholicon, or purgative panacea: _i. e._ the + Inquisition.--TRANS. + + [82] The wars of the Catholic League against Henry of Navarre + began in 1576.--TRANS. + +But this is all too little for Bodin, lawyer of Angers, and a violent +adversary to Wyer. He begins by saying that the wizards in Europe are +numerous enough to match Xerxes' army of eighteen hundred thousand +men. Then, like Caligula, he utters a prayer, that these two millions +might be gathered together, so as he, Bodin, could sentence and burn +them all at one stroke. + + * * * * * + +The new rivalry makes matters worse. The gentry of the Law begin to +say that the priest, being too often connected with the wizard, is no +longer a safe judge. In fact, for a moment, the lawyers seem to be yet +more trustworthy. In Spain, the Jesuit pleader, Del Rio; in Lorraine, +Remy (1596); Boguet (1602) on the Jura; Leloyer (1605) in Anjou; are +all matchless persecutors, who would have made Torquemada[83] himself +die of envy. + + [83] The infamous Spanish Inquisitor, who died at the close + of the fifteenth century, after sixteen years of untold + atrocities against the heretics of Spain.--TRANS. + +In Lorraine there seemed to be quite a dreadful plague of wizards and +visionaries. Driven to despair by the constant passing of troops and +brigands, the multitude prayed to the Devil only. They were drawn on +by the wizards. A number of villagers, frightened by a twofold dread +of wizards on the one hand, and judges on the other, longed to leave +their homes and flee elsewhither, if Remy, Judge of Nancy, may be +believed. In the work he dedicated (1596) to the Cardinal of Lorraine, +he owns to having burnt eight hundred witches, in sixteen years. "So +well do I deal out judgements," he says, "that last year sixteen slew +themselves to avoid passing through my hands." + + * * * * * + +The priests felt humbled. Could they have done better than the laity? +Nay, even the monkish lords of Saint Claude asked for a layman, honest +Boguet, to sit in judgment on their own people, who were much given to +witchcraft. In that sorry Jura, a poor land of firs and scanty +pasturage, the serf in his despair yielded himself to the Devil. They +all worshipped the Black Cat. + +Boguet's book had immense weight. This Golden Book, by the petty judge +of Saint Claude, was studied as a handbook by the worshipful members +of Parliament. In truth, Boguet is a thorough lawyer, is even +scrupulous in his own way. He finds fault with the treachery shown in +these prosecutions; will not hear of barristers betraying their +clients, of judges promising pardon only to ensure the death of the +accused. He finds fault with the very doubtful tests to which the +witches were still exposed. "Torture," he says, "is needless: it never +makes them yield." Moreover, he is humane enough to have them +strangled before throwing them to the flames, always except the +werewolves, "whom you must take care to burn alive." He cannot believe +that Satan would make a compact with children: "Satan is too sharp; +knows too well that, under fourteen years, any bargain made with a +minor, is annulled by default of years and due discretion." Then the +children are saved? Not at all; for he contradicts himself, and holds, +moreover, that such a leprosy cannot be purged away without burning +everything, even to the cradles. Had he lived, he would have come to +that. He made the country a desert: never was there a judge who +destroyed people with so fine a conscience. + +But it is to the Parliament of Bourdeaux that the grand hurrah for lay +jurisdiction is sent up in Lancre's book on _The Fickleness of +Demons_. The author, a man of some sense, a counsellor in this same +Parliament, tells with a triumphant air of his fight with the Devil in +the Basque country, where, in less than three months, he got rid of I +know not how many witches, and, better still, of three priests. He +looks compassionately on the Spanish Inquisition, which at Logroo, +not far off, on the borders of Navarre and Castille, dragged on a +trial for two years, ending in the poorest way by a small +_auto-da-f_, and the release of a whole crowd of women. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE WITCHES OF THE BASQUE COUNTRY: 1609.[84] + + [84] The Basques of the Lower Pyrenees, the Aquitani of + Csar, belonged to the old Iberian race which peopled Western + Europe before the Celtic era.--TRANS. + + +That strong-handed execution of the priests shows M. Lancre to have +been a man of independent spirit. In politics he is the same. In his +book on _The Prince_ (1617), he openly declares "the law to be above +the King." + +Never was the Basque character better drawn than in his book on _The +Fickleness of Demons_. In France, as in Spain, the Basque people had +privileges which almost made them a republic. On our side they owed +the King no service but that of arms: at the first beat of drum they +were bound to gather two thousand armed men commanded by Basque +captains. They were not oppressed by their clergy, who seldom +prosecuted wizards, being wizards themselves. The priests danced, wore +swords, and took their mistresses to the Witches' Sabbath. These +mistresses acted as their sextonesses or _bndictes_, to keep the +churches in order. The parson quarrelled with nobody, offered the +White Mass to God by day, the Black by night to the Devil, and +sometimes, according to Lancre, in the same church. + +The Basques of Bayonne and St. Jean de Luz, a race of men quaint, +venturesome, and fabulously bold, left many widows, from their habit +of sailing out into the roughest seas to harpoon whales. Leaving their +wives to God or the Devil, they threw themselves in crowds into the +Canadian settlements of Henry IV. As for the children, these honest +worthy sailors would have thought about them more, if they had been +clear as to their parentage. But on their return home they would +reckon up the months of their absence, and they never found the +reckoning right. + +The women, bold, beautiful, imaginative, spent their day seated on +tombs in the grave-yards, talking of the Sabbath, whither they +expected to go in the evening. This was their passion, their craze. + +They are born witches, daughters of the sea and of enchantment. They +sport among the billows, swimming like fish. Their natural master is +the Prince of the Air, King of Winds and Dreams, the same who inspired +the Sibyl and breathed to her the future. + +The judge who burns them is charmed with them, nevertheless. "When you +see them pass," says he, "their hair flowing in the breeze about their +shoulders, they walk so trim, so bravely armed in that fair +head-dress, that the sun playing through it as through a cloud, causes +a mighty blaze which shoots forth hot lightning-flashes. Hence the +fascination of their eyes, as dangerous in love as in witchcraft." + +This amiable Bordeaux magistrate, the earliest sample of those worldly +judges who enlivened the gown in the seventeenth century, plays the +lute between whiles, and even makes the witches dance before sending +them to the stake. And he writes well, far more clearly than anyone +else. But for all that, one discovers in his work a new source of +obscurity, inherent to those times. The witches being too numerous for +the judge to burn them all, the most of them have a shrewd idea that +he will show some indulgence to those who enter deepest into his +thoughts and passions! What passions? you ask. First, his love of the +frightfully marvellous, a passion common enough; the delight of +feeling afraid; and also, if it must be said, the enjoyment of +unseemly pleasures. Add to these a touch of vanity: the more dreadful +and enraged those clever women show the Devil to be, the greater the +pride taken by the judge in subduing so mighty an adversary. He arrays +himself as it were in his victory, enthrones himself in his +foolishness, triumphs in his senseless twaddling. + +The prettiest thing of this kind is the report of the procedure in the +Spanish _auto-da-f_ of Logroo, as furnished to us by Llorente. +Lancre, while quoting him jealously and longing to disparage him, owns +to the surpassing charm of the festival, the splendour of the sight, +the moving power of the music. On one platform were the few condemned +to the flames, on another a crowd of reprieved criminals. The +confession of a repentant heroine who had dared all things, is read +aloud. Nothing could be wilder. At the Sabbaths they ate children made +into hash, and by way of second course, the bodies of wizards +disentombed. Toads dance, and talk and complain lovingly of their +mistresses, getting them scolded by the Devil. The latter politely +escorts the witches home, lighting them with the arm of a child who +died unchristened, &c. + +Among our Basques witchcraft put on a less fantastic guise. It seems +that at this time the Sabbath was only a grand feast to which all, the +nobles included, went for purposes of amusement. In the foremost line +would be seen persons in veils and masks, by some supposed to be +princes. "Once on a time," says Lancre, "none but idiots of the Landes +appeared there: now people of quality are seen to go." To entertain +these local grandees, Satan sometimes created a _Bishop of the +Sabbath_. Such was the title he gave the young lord Lancinena, with +whom the Devil in person was good enough to open the ball. + +So well supported, the witches held their sway, wielding over the land +an amazing terrorism of the fancy. Numbers regarded themselves as +victims, and became in fact seriously ill. Many were stricken with +epilepsy, and barked like dogs. In one small town of Acqs were counted +as many as forty of these barkers. The Witch had so fearful a hold +upon them, that one lady being called as witness, began barking with +uncontrollable fury as the Witch, unawares to herself, drew near. + +Those to whom was ascribed so terrible a power lorded it everywhere. +No one would dare shut his door against them. One magistrate, the +criminal assessor of Bayonne, allowed the Sabbath to be held in his +own house. Urtubi, Lord of Saint P, was forced to hold the festival +in his castle. But his head was shaken to that degree, that he +imagined a witch was sucking his blood. Emboldened, however, by his +fear, he, with another gentleman, repaired to Bordeaux, and persuaded +the Parliament to obtain from the King the commissioning of two of its +members, Espagnet and Lancre, to try the wizards in the Basque +country. This commission, absolute and without appeal, worked with +unheard-of vigour; in four months, from May to August, 1609, condemned +sixty or eighty witches, and examined five hundred more, who, though +equally marked with the sign of the Devil, figured in the proceedings +as witnesses only. + + * * * * * + +It was no safe matter for two men and a few soldiers to carry on these +trials amongst a violent, hot-headed people, a multitude of wild and +daring sailors' wives. Another source of danger was in the priests, +many of whom were wizards, needing to be tried by the lay +commissioners, despite the lively opposition of the clergy. + +When the judges appeared, many persons saved themselves in the hills. +Others boldly remained, saying, it was the judges who would be burnt. +So little fear had the witches themselves, that before the audience +they would sink into the Sabbatic slumber, and affirm on awaking that, +even in court, they had enjoyed the blessedness of Satan. Many said, +they only suffered from not being able to prove to him how much they +burned to suffer for his sake. + +Those who were questioned said they could not speak. Satan rising into +their throats blocked up their gullets. Lancre, who wrote this +narrative, though the younger of the commissioners, was a man of the +world. The witches guessed that, with a man of his sort, there were +means of saving themselves. The league between them was broken. A +beggar-girl of seventeen, La Murgui, or Margaret, who had found +witchcraft gainful, and, while herself almost a child, had brought +away children as offerings to the Devil, now betook herself, with +another girl, Lisalda, of the same age, to denouncing all the rest. By +word of mouth or in writing she revealed all; with the liveliness, the +noise, the emphatic gestures of a Spaniard, entering truly or falsely +into a hundred impure details. She frightened, amused, wheedled her +judges, drawing them after her like fools. To this corrupt, wanton, +crazy girl, they entrusted the right of searching about the bodies of +girls and boys, for the spot whereon Satan had set his mark. This spot +discovered itself by a certain numbness, by the fact that you might +stick needles into it without causing pain. While a surgeon thus +tormented the elder ones, she took in hand the young, who, though +called as witnesses, might themselves be accused, if she pronounced +them to bear the mark. It was a hateful thing to see this brazen-faced +girl made sole mistress of the fate of those wretched beings, +commissioned to prod them all over with needles, and able at will to +assign those bleeding bodies to death! + +She had gotten so mighty a sway over Lancre, as to persuade him that, +while he was sleeping in Saint P, in his own house, guarded by his +servants and his escort, the Devil came by night into his room, to say +the Black Mass; while the witches getting inside his very curtains, +would have poisoned him, had he not been well protected by God +Himself. The Black Mass was offered by the Lady of Lancinena, to whom +Satan made love in the very bedroom of the judge. We can guess the +likely aim of this wretched tale: the beggar bore a grudge against the +lady, who was good-looking, and, but for this slander, might have come +to bear sway over the honest commissioner. + + * * * * * + +Lancre and his colleague taking fright, went forward; never dared to +draw back. They had their royal gallows set up on the very spots where +Satan had held a Sabbath. People were alarmed thereat, deeming them +strongly backed by the arm of royalty. Impeachments hailed about them. +The women all came in one long string to accuse each other. Children +were brought forward to impeach their mothers. Lancre gravely ruled +that a child of eight was a good, sufficient, reputable witness! + +M. d'Espagnet could give but a few moments to this matter, having +speedily to show himself in the Estates of Barn. Lancre being pushed +unwittingly forward by the violence of the younger informers, who +would have fallen into great danger, if they had failed to get the old +ones burnt, threw the reins on the neck of the business, and hurried +it on at full gallop. A due amount of witches were condemned to the +stake. These, too, on finding themselves lost, ended by impeaching +others. When the first batch were brought to the stake, a frightful +scene took place. Executioner, constables, and sergeants, all thought +their last hour was come. The crowd fell savagely upon the carts, +seeking to force the wretches to withdraw their accusations. The men +put daggers to their throats: their furious companions were like to +finish them with their nails. + +Justice, however, got out of the scrape with some credit; and then the +commissioners went on to the harder work of sentencing eight priests +whom they had taken up. The girls' confessions had brought these men +to light. Lancre speaks of their morals like one who knew all about +them of himself. He rebukes them, not only for their gay proceedings +on Sabbath nights, but, most of all, for their sextonesses and female +churchwardens. He even repeats certain tales about the priests having +sent off the husbands to Newfoundland, and brought back Devils from +Japan who gave up the wives into their hands. + +The clergy were deeply stirred: the Bishop of Bayonne would have made +resistance. His courage failing him, he appointed his vicar-general to +act as judge-assistant in his own absence. Luckily the Devil gave the +accused more help than their Bishop. He opened all the doors, so that +one morning five of the eight were found missing. The commissioners +lost no time in burning the three still left to them. + + * * * * * + +This happened about August, 1609. The Spanish inquisitors at Logroo +did not crown their proceedings with an _auto-da-f_ before the 8th +November, 1610. They had met with far more trouble than our own +countrymen, owing to the frightful number of persons accused. How burn +a whole people? They sought advice of the Pope, of the greatest +doctors in Spain. The word was given to draw back. Only the wilful who +persisted in denying their guilt, were to be burnt; while they who +pleaded guilty should be let go. The same method had already been used +to rescue priests in trials for loose living. According to Llorente, +it was deemed sufficient, if they owned their crime, and went through +a slight penance. + +The Inquisition, so deadly to heretics, so cruel to Moors and Jews, +was much less so to wizards. These, being mostly shepherds, had no +quarrel with the Church. The rejoicings of goatherds were too low, if +not too brutish, to disturb the enemies of free thought. + + * * * * * + +Lancre wrote his book mainly to show how much the justice of French +Parliaments and laymen excelled the justice of the priests. It is +written lightly, merrily, with flowing pen. It seems to express the +joy felt by one who has come creditably out of a great risk. It is a +gasconading, an over-boastful joy. He tells with pride how, the +Sabbath following the first execution of the witches, their children +went and wailed to Satan, who replied that their mothers had not been +burnt, but were alive and happy. From the midst of the crowd the +children thought they heard their mothers' voices saying how +thoroughly blest they were. Satan was frightened nevertheless. He +absented himself for four Sabbaths, sending a small commonplace devil +in his stead. He did not show himself again till the 22nd July. When +the wizards asked him the reason of his absence, he said, "I have been +away, pleading your cause against _Little John_," the name by which he +called Jesus. "I have won the suit, and they who are still in prison +will not be burnt." + +The lie was given to the great liar. And the conquering magistrate +avers that, while the last witch was burning, they saw a swarm of +toads come out of her head. The people fell on them with stones, so +that she was rather stoned than burnt. But for all their attacks, they +could not put an end to one black toad which escaped from flames, +sticks, and stones, to hide, like the Devil's imp it was, in some spot +where it could never be found.[85] + + [85] For a more detailed account of these Basque Witches, the + English reader may turn to Wright's _Narratives of Sorcery + and Magic_. Bentley, 1851.--TRANS. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SATAN TURNS PRIEST. + + +Whatever semblance of Satanic fanaticism was still preserved by the +witches, it transpires from the narratives of Lancre and other writers +of the seventeenth century, that the Sabbath then was mainly an affair +of money. They raised contributions almost by force, charged something +for right of entrance, and extracted fines from those who stayed away. +At Brussels and in Picardy, they had a fixed scale of payment for +rewarding those who brought new members into the brotherhood. + +In the Basque country no mystery was kept up. The gatherings there +would amount to twelve thousand persons, of all classes, rich or poor, +priests and gentlemen. Satan, himself a gentleman, wore a hat upon his +three horns, like a man of quality. Finding his old seat, the druidic +stone, too hard for him, he treats himself to an easy well-gilt +arm-chair. Shall we say he is growing old? More nimble now than when +he was young, he frolics about, cuts capers, and leaps from the bottom +of a large pitcher. He goes through the service head downwards, his +feet in the air. + +He likes everything to go off quite respectably, and spares no cost +in his scenic arrangements. Besides the customary flames, red, yellow, +and blue, which entertain the eye, as they show forth or hide the +flickering shadows, he charms the ear with strange music, mainly of +little bells that tickle the nerves with something like the searching +vibrations of musical-glasses. To crown this splendour Satan bids them +bring out his silver plate. Even his toads give themselves airs, +become fashionable, and, like so many lordlings, go about in green +velvet. + +The general effect is that of a large fair, of a great masked ball +with very transparent disguises. Satan, who understands his epoch, +opens the ball with the Bishop of the Sabbath; or the King and Queen: +offices devised in compliment to the great personages, wealthy or +well-born, who honour the meeting by their presence. + +Here may be seen no longer the gloomy feast of rebels, the baleful +orgie of serfs and boors, sharing by night the sacrament of love, by +day the sacrament of death. The violent Sabbath-round is no more the +one only dance of the evening. Thereto are now added the Moorish +dances, lively or languishing, but always amorous and obscene, in +which girls dressed up for the purpose, like _La Murgui_ or _La +Lisalda_, feigned and showed off the most provoking characters. Among +the Basques these dances formed, we are told, the invincible charm +which sent the whole world of women, wives, daughters, widows--the +last in great numbers--headlong into the Sabbath. + +Without such amusements and the accompanying banquet, one could hardly +understand this general rage for these Sabbaths. It is a kind of love +without love; a feast of barrenness undisguised. Boguet has settled +that point to a nicety. Differing in one passage, where he dismisses +the women as afraid of coming to harm, Lancre is generally at one with +Boguet, besides being more sincere. The cruel and foul researches he +pursues on the very bodies of witches, show clearly that he deemed +them barren, and that a barren passive love underlay the Sabbath +itself. + +The feast ought therefore to have been a dismal one, if the men had +owned the smallest heart. + +The silly girls who went to dance and eat were victims in every way. +But they were resigned to everything save the prospect of bearing +children. They bore indeed a far heavier load of wretchedness than the +men. Sprenger tells of the strange cry, which even in his day burst +forth in the hour of love, "May the Devil have the fruits!" In his +day, moreover, people could live for two _sous_ a day, while in the +reign of Henry IV., about 1600, they could barely live for twenty. +Through all that century the desire, the need for barrenness grew more +and more. + +Under this growing dread of love's allurements the Sabbath would have +become quite dull and wearisome, had not the conductresses cleverly +made the most of its comic side, enlivening it with farcical +interludes. Thus, the opening scene in which Satan, like the Priapus +of olden times, bestowed his coarse endearments on the Witch, was +followed by another game, a kind of chilly purification, which the +sorceress underwent with much grimacing, and a great show of +unpleasant shuddering. Then came another swinish farce, described by +Lancre and Boguet, in which some young and pretty wife would take the +Witch's place as Queen of the Sabbath, and submit her body to the +vilest handling. A farce not less repulsive was the "Black Sacrament," +performed with a black radish, which Satan would cut into little +pieces and gravely swallow. + +The last act of all, according to Lancre, or at least according to the +two bold hussies who made him their fool, was an astounding event to +happen in such crowded meetings. Since witchcraft had become +hereditary in whole families, there was no further need of openly +divulging the old incestuous ways of producing witches, by the +intercourse of a mother with her son. Some sort of comedy perhaps was +made out of the old materials, in the shape of a grotesque Semiramis +or an imbecile Ninus. But the more serious game, which doubtless +really took place, attests the existence of great profligacy in the +upper walks of society: it took the form of a most hateful and +barbarous hoax. + +Some rash husband would be tempted to the spot, so fuddled with a +baleful draught of datura or belladonna, that, like one entranced, he +came to lose all power of speech and motion, retaining only his +sight. His wife, on the other hand, being so bewitched with erotic +drinks as to lose all sense of what she was doing, would appear in a +woeful state of nature, letting herself be caressed under the +indignant eyes of one who could no longer help himself in the least. +His manifest despair, his bootless efforts to unshackle his tongue, +and set free his powerless limbs, his dumb rage and wildly rolling +eyes, inspired beholders with a cruel joy, like that produced by some +of Molire's comedies. The poor woman, stung with a real delight, +yielded herself up to the most shameful usage, of which on the morrow +neither herself nor her husband would have the least remembrance. But +those who had seen or shared in the cruel farce, would they, too, fail +to remember? + +In such heinous outrages an aristocratic element seems traceable. In +no way do they remind us of the old brotherhood of serfs, of the +original Sabbath, which, though ungodly, and foul enough, was still a +free straightforward matter, in which all was done readily and without +constraint. + +Clearly, Satan, depraved as he was from all time, goes on spoiling +more and more. A polite, a crafty Satan is he now become, sweetly +insipid, but all the more faithless and unclean. It is a new, a +strange thing to see at the Sabbaths, his fellowship with priests. Who +is yon parson coming along with his _Bndicte_, his sextoness, he who +jobs the things of the Church, saying the White Mass of mornings, the +Black at night? "Satan," says Lancre, "persuades him to make love to +his daughters in the spirit, to debauch his fair penitents." Innocent +magistrate! He pretends to be unaware that for a century back the +Devil had been working away at the Church livings, like one who knew +his business! He had made himself father-confessor; or, if you would +rather have it so, the father-confessor had turned Devil. + +The worthy M. de Lancre should have remembered the trials that began +in 1491, and helped perchance to bring the Parliament of Paris into a +tolerant frame of mind. It gave up burning Satan, for it saw nothing +of him but a mask. + +A good many nuns were conquered by his new device of borrowing the +form of some favourite confessor. Among them was Jane Pothierre, a +holy woman of Quesnoy, of the ripe age of forty-five, but still, alas! +all too impressible. She owns her passion to her ghostly counsellor, +who loth to listen to her, flies to Falempin, some leagues off. The +Devil, who never sleeps, saw his advantage, and perceiving her, says +the annalist, "goaded by the thorns of Venus, he slily took the shape +of the aforesaid 'Father,' and returning every night to the convent, +was so successful in befooling her, that she owned to having received +him 434 times."[86] Great pity was felt for her on her repenting; and +she was speedily saved from all need of blushing, being put into a +fine walled-tomb built for her in the Castle of Selles, where a few +days after she died the death of a good Catholic. Is it not a deeply +moving tale? But this is nothing to that fine business of Gauffridi, +which happened at Marseilles while Lancre was drawing up deeds at +Bayonne. + + [86] Masse, _Chronique du Monde_, 1540; and the Chroniclers + of Hainault, &c. + +The Parliament of Provence had no need to envy the success attained by +that of Bordeaux. The lay authorities caught at the first occasion of +a trial for witchcraft to institute a reform in the morals of the +clergy. They sent forth a stern glance towards the close-shut +convent-world. A rare opportunity was offered by the strange +concurrence of many causes, by the fierce jealousies, the revengeful +longings which severed priest from priest. But for those mad passions +which ere long began to burst forth at every moment, we should have +gained no insight into the real lot of that great world of women who +died in those gloomy dwellings; not one word should we have heard of +the things that passed behind those parlour gratings, within those +mighty walls which only the confessor could overleap. + +The example of the Basque priest, whom Lancre presents to us as +worldly, trifling, going with his sword upon him, and his deaconess by +his side, to dance all night at the Sabbath, was not one to inspire +fear. It was not such as he whom the Inquisition took such pains to +screen, or towards whom a body so stern for others, proved itself, for +once, indulgent. It is easy to see through all Lancre's reticences +the existence of _something else_. And the States-General of 1614, +affirming that priests should not be tried by priests, are also +thinking of _something else_. This very mystery it is which gets torn +in twain by the Parliament of Provence. The director of nuns gaining +the mastery over them and disposing of them, body and soul, by means +of witchcraft,--such is the fact which comes forth from the trial of +Gauffridi; at a later date from the dreadful occurrences at Loudun and +Louviers; and also in the scenes described by Llorente, Ricci, and +several more. + +One common method was employed alike for reducing the scandal, for +misleading the public, for hiding away the inner fact while it was +busied with the outer aspects of it. On the trial of a priestly +wizard, all was done to juggle away the priest by bringing out the +wizard; to impute everything to the art of the magician, and put out +of sight the natural fascination wielded by the master of a troop of +women all abandoned to his charge. + +But there was no way of hushing up the first affair. It had been +noised abroad in all Provence, in a land of light, where the sun +pierces without any disguise. The chief scene of it lay not only in +Aix and Marseilles, but also in Sainte-Baume, the famous centre of +pilgrimage for a crowd of curious people, who thronged from all parts +of France to be present at a deadly duel between two bewitched nuns +and their demons. The Dominicans, who attacked the affair as +inquisitors, committed themselves by the noise they made about it +through their partiality for one of these nuns. For all the care +Parliament presently took to hurry the conclusion, these monks were +exceedingly anxious to excuse her and justify themselves. Hence the +important work of the monk Michalis, a mixture of truth and fable; +wherein he raises Gauffridi, the priest he had sent to the flames, +into the Prince of Magicians, not only in France, but even in Spain, +Germany, England, Turkey, nay, in the whole inhabited earth. + +Gauffridi seems to have been a talented, agreeable man. Born in the +mountains of Provence, he had travelled much in the Low Countries and +the East. He bore the highest character in Marseilles, where he served +as priest in the Church of Acoules. His bishop made much of him: the +most devout of the ladies preferred him for their confessor. He had a +wondrous gift, they say, of endearing himself to all. Nevertheless, he +might have preserved his fair reputation had not a noble lady of +Provence, whom he had already debauched, carried her blind, doting +fondness to the extent of entrusting him, perhaps for her religious +training, with the care of a charming child of twelve, Madeline de la +Palud, a girl of fair complexion and gentle nature. Thereon, Gauffridi +lost his wits, and respected neither the youth nor the holy ignorance, +the utter unreserve of his pupil. + +As she grew older, however, the young highborn girl discovered her +misfortune, in loving thus beneath her, without hope of marriage. To +keep his hold on her, Gauffridi vowed he would wed her before the +Devil, if he might not wed her before God. He soothed her pride by +declaring that he was the Prince of Magicians, and would make her his +queen. He put on her finger a silver ring, engraved with magic +characters. Did he take her to the Sabbath, or only make her believe +she had been there, by confusing her with strange drinks and magnetic +witcheries? Certain it is, at least, that torn by two different +beliefs, full of uneasiness and fear, the girl thenceforth became mad +at certain times, and fell into fits of epilepsy. She was afraid of +being carried off alive by the Devil. She durst no longer stay in her +father's house, and took shelter in the Ursuline Convent at +Marseilles. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +GAUFFRIDI: 1610. + + +The order of Ursuline nuns seemed to be the calmest, the least +irrational of them all. They were not wholly idle, but found some +little employment in the bringing up of young girls. The Catholic +reaction which, aiming at a higher flight of ecstasy than was possible +at that time even in Spain, had foolishly built a number of convents, +Carmelite, Bernardine, and Capuchin, soon found itself at the end of +its motive-powers. The girls of whom people got rid by shutting them +up so strictly therein, died off immediately, and their swift decease +led to frightful statements of the cruelty shown by their families. +They perished, indeed, not by their excessive penances, but rather of +heart-sickness and despair. After the first heats of zeal were over, +the dreadful disease of the cloister, described by Cassieu as dating +from the fifteenth century, that crushing, sickening sadness which +came on of an afternoon--that tender listlessness which plunged them +into a state of unutterable exhaustion, speedily wore them away. A few +among them would turn as if raging mad, choking, as it were, with the +exceeding strength of their blood. + +A nun who hoped to die decently, without bequeathing too large a share +of remorse to her kindred, was bound to live on about ten years, the +mean term of life in the cloister. She needed to be let gently down; +and men of sense and experience felt that her days could only be +prolonged by giving her something to do, by leaving her not quite +alone. St. Francis of Sales[87] founded the Visitandine order, whose +duty it was to visit the sick in pairs. Csar of Bus and Romillion, +who had established the Teaching Priests in connection with the +Oratorians[88], afterwards ordained what might be called the Teaching +Sisters, the Ursulines, who taught under the direction of the said +priests. The whole thing was under the supervision of the bishops, and +had very little of the monastic about it: the nuns were not shut up +again in cloisters. The Visitandines went out; the Ursulines received, +at any rate, their pupils' kinsfolk. Both of them had connection with +the world under guardians of good repute. The result was a certain +mediocrity. Though the Oratorians and the Doctrinaries numbered among +them persons of high merit, the general character of the order was +uniformly moderate, commonplace; it took care never to soar too high. +Romillion, founder of the Ursulines, was an oldish man, a convert +from Protestantism, who had roamed everywhere, and come back again to +his starting point. He deemed his young Provencials wise enough +already, and counted on keeping his little flock on the slender +pasturage of an Oratorian faith, at once monotonous and rational. And +being such, it came in time to be utterly wearisome. One fine morning +all had disappeared. + + [87] St. Francis of Sales, famous for his successful missions + among the Protestants, and Bishop of Geneva in his later + years, died in 1622.--TRANS. + + [88] The Brethren of the Oratory, founded at Rome in + 1564.--TRANS. + +Gauffridi, the mountaineer of Provence, the travelled mystic, the man +of strong feelings and restless mind, had quite another effect upon +them, when he came thither as Madeline's ghostly guide. They felt a +certain power, and by those who had already passed out of their wild, +amorous youth, were doubtless assured that it was nothing less than a +power begotten of the Devil. All were seized with fear, and more than +one with love also. Their imaginations soared high; their heads began +to turn. Already six or seven may be seen weeping, shrieking, yelling, +fancying themselves caught by the Devil. Had the Ursulines lived in +cloisters, within high walls, Gauffridi, being their only director, +might one way or another have made them all agree. As in the cloisters +of Quesnoy, in 1491, so here also it might have happened that the +Devil, who gladly takes the form of one beloved, had under that of +Gauffridi made himself lover-general to the nuns. Or rather, as in +those Spanish cloisters named by Llorente, he would have persuaded +them that the priestly office hallowed those to whom the priest made +love, that to sin with him, was only to be sanctified. A notion, +indeed, ripe through France, and even in Paris, where the mistresses +of priests were called "the hallowed ones."[89] + + [89] Lestoile, edit. Michaud, p. 561. + +Did Gauffridi, thus master of all, keep to Madeline only? Did not the +lover change into the libertine? We know not. The sentence points to a +nun who never showed herself during the trial, but reappeared at the +end, as having given herself up to the Devil and to him. + +The Ursuline convent was open to all visitors. The nuns were under the +charge of their Doctrinaries, men of fair character, and jealous +withal. The founder himself was there, indignant, desperate. How +woeful a mishap for the rising order, just as it was thriving amain +and spreading all over France! After all its pretensions to wisdom, +calmness, good sense, thus suddenly to go mad! Romillion would have +hushed up the matter if he could. He caused one of his priests to +exorcise the maidens. But the demons laughed the exorciser to scorn. +He who dwelt in the fair damsel, even the noble demon Beelzebub, +Spirit of Pride, never deigned to unclose his teeth. + +Among the possessed was one sister from twenty to twenty-five years +old, who had been specially adopted by Romillion; a girl of good +culture, bred up in controversy; a Protestant by birth, but left an +orphan, to fall into the hands of the Father, a convert like herself +from Protestantism. Her name, Louisa Capeau, sounds plebeian. She +showed herself but too clearly a girl of exceeding wit, and of a +raging passion. Her strength, moreover, was fearful to see. For three +months, in addition to the hellish storm within, she carried on a +desperate struggle, which would have killed the strongest man in a +week. + +She said she had three devils: Verrine, a good Catholic devil, a +volatile spirit of the air; Leviathan, a wicked devil, an arguer and a +Protestant; lastly, another, acknowledged by her to be the spirit of +uncleanness. One other she forgot to name, the demon of jealousy. + +She bore a savage hate to the little fair-faced damsel, the favoured +rival, the proud young woman of rank. This latter, in one of her fits, +had said that she went to the Sabbath, where she was made queen, and +received homage, and gave herself up, but only to the prince--"What +prince?" To Louis Gauffridi, prince of magicians. + +Pierced by this revelation as by a dagger, Louisa was too wild to +doubt its truth. Mad herself, she believed the mad woman's story in +order to ruin her. Her own devil was backed by all the jealous demons. +The women all exclaimed that Gauffridi was the very king of wizards. +The report spread everywhere, that a great prize had been taken, a +priest-king of magicians, even the prince of universal magic. Such was +the dreadful diadem of steel and flame which these feminine demons +drove into his brow. + +Everyone lost his head, even to old Romillion himself. Whether from +hatred of Gauffridi, or fear of the Inquisition, he took the matter +out of the bishop's hands, and brought his two bewitched ones, Louisa +and Madeline, to the Convent of Sainte-Baume, whose prior was the +Dominican Michalis, papal inquisitor in the Pope's domain of Avignon, +and, as he himself pretended, over all Provence. The great point was +to get them exorcised. But as the two women were obliged to accuse +Gauffridi, the business ended in making him fall into the hands of the +Inquisition. + +Michalis had to preach on Advent Sunday at Aix, before the +Parliament. He felt how much so striking a drama would exalt him. He +grasped at it with all the eagerness of a barrister in a Criminal +Court, when a very dramatic murder, or a curious case of adultery +comes before him. + +The right thing in matters of this sort was, to spin out the play +through Advent, Christmas, Lent, and burn no one before the Holy Week, +the vigil, as it were, of the great day of Easter. Michalis kept +himself for the last act, entrusting the bulk of the business to a +Flemish Dominican in his service, Doctor Dompt, from Louvain, who had +already exorcised, was well-skilled in fooleries of that nature. + +The best thing the Fleming could do, was to do nothing. In Louisa, he +found a terrible helpmate, with thrice as much zeal in her as the +Inquisition itself, unquenchable in her rage, of a burning eloquence, +whimsical, and sometimes very odd, but always raising a shudder; a +very torch of Hell. + +The matter was reduced to a public duel between the two devils, Louisa +and Madeline. + +Some simple folk who came thither on a pilgrimage to Sainte-Baume, a +worthy goldsmith, for instance, and a draper, both from Troyes, in +Champagne, were charmed to see Louisa's devil deal such cruel blows at +the other demons, and give so sound a thrashing to the magicians. They +wept for joy, and went away thanking God. + +It is a terrible sight, however, even in the dull wording of the +Fleming's official statement, to look upon this unequal strife; to +watch the elder woman, the strong and sturdy Provencial, come of a +race hard as the flints of its native Crau, as day after day she +stones, knocks down, and crushes her young and almost childish victim, +who, wasted with love and shame, has already been fearfully punished +by her own distemper, her attacks of epilepsy. + +The Fleming's volume, which, with the additions made by Michalis, +reaches to four hundred pages in all, is one condensed epitome of the +invectives, threats, and insults spewed forth by this young woman in +five months; interspersed with sermons also, for she used to preach on +every subject, on the sacraments, on the next coming of Antichrist, on +the frailty of women, and so forth. Thence, on the mention of her +devils, she fell into the old rage, and renewed twice a-day, the +execution of the poor little girl; never taking breath, never for one +minute staying the frightful torrent, until at least the other in her +wild distraction, "with one foot in hell"--to use her own +words--should have fallen into a convulsive fit, and begun beating the +flags with her knees, her body, her swooning head. + +It must be acknowledged that Louisa herself is a trifle mad: no amount +of mere knavishness would have enabled her to maintain so long a +wager. But her jealousy points with frightful clearness to every +opening by which she may prick or rend the sufferer's heart. + +Everything gets turned upside down. This Louisa, possessed of the +Devil, takes the sacrament whenever she pleases. She scolds people of +the highest authority. The venerable Catherine of France, the oldest +of the Ursulines, came to see the wonder, asked her questions, and at +the very outset caught her telling a flagrant and stupid falsehood. +The impudent woman got out of the mess by saying in the name of her +evil spirit, "The Devil is the Father of Lies." + +A sensible Minorite who was present, took up the word and said, "Now, +thou liest." Turning to the exorcisers, he added, "Cannot ye make her +hold her tongue?" Then he quoted to them the story of one Martha, a +sham demoniac of Paris. By way of answer, she was made to take the +communion before him. The Devil communicate, the Devil receive the +body of God! The poor man was bewildered; humbled himself before the +Inquisition. They were too many for him, so he said not another word. + +One of Louisa's tricks was to frighten the bystanders, by saying she +could see wizards among them; which made every one tremble for +himself. + +Triumphant over Sainte-Baume, she hits out even at Marseilles. Her +Flemish exorciser, being reduced to the strange part of secretary and +bosom-counsellor to the Devil, writes, under her dictation, five +letters: first, to the Capuchins of Marseilles, that they may call +upon Gauffridi to recant; second, to the same Capuchins, that they may +arrest Gauffridi, bind him fast with a stole, and keep him prisoner in +a house of her describing; thirdly, several letters to the moderate +party, to Catherine of France, to the Doctrinal Priests, who had +declared against her; and then this lewd, outrageous termagant ends +with insulting her own prioress: "When I left, you bade me be humble +and obedient. Now take back your own advice." + +Her devil Verrine, spirit of air and wind, whispered to her some +trivial nonsense, words of senseless pride which harmed friends and +foes, and the Inquisition itself. One day she took to laughing at +Michalis, who was shivering at Aix, preaching in a desert while all +the world was gone to hear strange things at Sainte-Baume. "Michalis, +you preach away, indeed, but you get no further forward; while Louisa +has reached, has caught hold of the quintessence of all perfection." + +This savage joy was mainly caused by her having quite conquered +Madeline at last. One word had done more for her than a hundred +sermons: "Thou shalt be burnt." Thenceforth in her distraction the +young girl said whatever the other pleased, and upheld her statements +in the meanest way. Humbling herself before them all, she besought +forgiveness of her mother, of her superior Romillion, of the +bystanders, of Louisa. According to the latter, the frightened girl +took her aside, and begged her to be merciful, not to chasten her too +much. + +The other woman, tender as a rock and merciful as a hidden reef, felt +that Madeline was now hers, to do whatever she might choose. She +caught her, folded her round, and bedazed her out of what little +spirit she had left. It was a second enchantment; but all unlike that +by Gauffridi, a _possession_ by means of terror. The poor downtrodden +wretch, moving under rod and scourge, was pushed onward in a path of +exquisite suffering which led her to accuse and murder the man she +loved still. + +Had Madeline stood out, Gauffridi would have escaped, for every one +was against Louisa. Michalis himself at Aix, eclipsed by her as a +preacher, treated by her with so much coolness, would have stopped the +whole business rather than leave the honour of it in her hands. + +Marseilles supported Gauffridi, being fearful of seeing the +Inquisition of Avignon pushed into her neighbourhood, and one of her +own children carried off from her threshold. The Bishop and Chapter +were specially eager to defend their priest, maintaining that the +whole affair sprang from nothing but a rivalry between confessors, +nothing but the hatred commonly shown by monks towards secular +priests. + +The Doctrinaries would have quashed the matter. They were sore +troubled by the noise it made. Some of them in their annoyance were +ready to give up everything and forsake their house. + +The ladies were very wroth, especially Madame Libertat, the lady of +the Royalist leader who had given Marseilles up to the King. + +The Capuchins whom Louisa had so haughtily commanded to seize on +Gauffridi, were, like all other of the Franciscan orders, enemies of +the Dominicans. They were jealous of the prominence gained for these +latter by their demoniac friend. Their wandering life, moreover, by +throwing them into continual contact with the women, brought them a +good deal of moral business. They had no wish to see too close a +scrutiny made into the lives of clergymen; and so they also took the +side of Gauffridi. Demoniacs were not so scarce, but that one was +easily found and brought forward at the first summons. Her devil, +obedient to the rope-girdle of St. Francis, gainsaid everything said +by the Dominicans' devil: it averred--and the words were straightway +written down--that "Gauffridi was no magician at all, and could not +therefore be arrested." + +They were not prepared for this at Sainte-Baume. Louisa seemed +confounded. She could only manage to say that apparently the Capuchins +had not made their devil swear to tell the truth: a sorry reply, +backed up, however, by the trembling Madeline, who, like a beaten +hound that fears yet another beating, was ready for anything, ready +even to bite and tear. Through her it was that Louisa at such a crisis +inflicted an awful bite. + +She herself merely said that the Bishop was offending God unawares. +She clamoured against "the wizards of Marseilles" without naming any +one. But the cruel, the deadly word was spoken at her command by +Madeline. A woman who had lost her child two years before, was pointed +out by her as having throttled it. Afraid of being tortured, she fled +or hid herself. Her husband, her father, went weeping to Sainte-Baume, +hoping of course to soften the inquisitors. But Madeline durst not +unsay her words; so she renewed the charge. + +No one now could feel safe. As soon as the Devil came to be accounted +God's avenger, from the moment that people under his dictation began +writing the names of those who should pass through the fire, every one +had before him, day and night, the hideous nightmare of the stake. + +To withstand these bold attempts of the Papal Inquisition, Marseilles +ought to have been backed up by the Parliament of Aix. Unluckily she +knew herself to be little liked at Aix. That small official town of +magistrates and nobles was always jealous of the wealth and splendour +of Marseilles, the Queen of the South. On the other hand, the great +opponent of Marseilles, the Papal Inquisitor, forestalled Gauffridi's +appeal to the Parliament by carrying his own suit thither first. This +was a body of utter fanatics, headed by some heavy nobles, whose +wealth had been greatly increased in a former century by the massacre +of the Vaudois. As lay judges, too, they were charmed to see a Papal +Inquisitor set the precedent of acknowledging that, in a matter +touching a priest, in a case of witchcraft, the Inquisition could not +go beyond the preliminary inquiry. It was just as though the +inquisitors had formally laid aside their old pretensions. The people +of Aix, like those of Bordeaux before them, were also bitten by the +flattering thought, that these lay-folk had been set up by the Church +herself as censors and reformers of the priestly morals. + +In a business where all would needs be strange and miraculous, not +least among those marvels was it to see so raging a demon grow all at +once so fair-spoken towards the Parliament, so politic and +fine-mannered. Louisa charmed the Royalists by her praises of the late +King. Henry IV.--who would have thought it?--was canonized by the +Devil. One morning, without any invitation, he broke forth into +praises of "that pious and saintly King who had just gone up to +heaven." + +Such an agreement between two old enemies, the Parliament and the +Inquisition, which latter was thenceforth sure of the secular arm, its +soldiers, and executioner; this and the sending of a commission to +Sainte-Baume to examine the possessed, take down their statements, +hear their charges, and impannel a jury, made up a frightful business +indeed. Louisa openly pointed out the Capuchins, Gauffridi's +champions, and proclaimed "their coming punishment _temporally_" in +their bodies, and in their flesh. + +The poor Fathers were sorely bruised. Their devil would not whisper +one word. They went to find the Bishop, and told him that indeed they +might not refuse to bring Gauffridi forward at Sainte-Baume, in +obedience to the secular power; but afterwards the Bishop and Chapter +could claim him back, and replace him under the shelter of episcopal +justice. + +Doubtless they had also reckoned on the agitation that would be shown +by the two young women at the sight of one they loved; on the extent +to which even the terrible Louisa might be shaken by the reproaches of +her own heart. + +That heart indeed woke up at the guilty one's approach: for one moment +the furious woman seemed to grow tender. I know nothing more fiery +than her prayer for God to save the man she has driven to death: +"Great God, I offer thee all the sacrifices that have been offered +since the world began, that will be offered until it ends. All, all, +for Lewis. I offer thee all the tears of every saint, all the +transports of every angel. All, all, for Lewis. Oh, that there were +yet more souls to reckon up, that so the oblation might be all the +greater! It should be all for Lewis. O God, the Father of Heaven, have +pity on Lewis! O God the Son, Redeemer of the world, have pity on +Lewis!" &c. + +Bootless pity! baneful as well as bootless! Her real desire was that +the accused _should not harden his heart_, should plead guilty. In +that case by our laws he would most assuredly be burnt. + +She herself, in short, was worn out, unable to do anything more. The +inquisitor Michalis was so humbled by a victory he could not have +gained without her, so wroth with the Flemish exorciser who had become +her obedient follower, and let her see into all the hidden springs of +the tragedy, that he came simply to crush Louisa, and save Madeline by +substituting the one for the other, if he could, in this popular +drama. This move of his implies some skill, and a knowing eye for +scenery. The winter and the Advent season had been wholly taken up +with the acting of that awful sibyl, that raging bacchante. In the +milder days of a Provencial spring, in the season of Lent, he would +bring upon the scene a more moving personage, a demon all womanly, +dwelling in a sick child, in a fair-haired frightened girl. The nobles +and the Parliament of Provence would feel an interest in a little lady +who belonged to an eminent house. + +Far from listening to his Flemish agent, Louisa's follower, Michalis +shut the door upon him when he sought to enter the select council of +Parliament-men. A Capuchin who also came, on the first words spoken by +Louisa, cried out, "Silence, accursed devil!" + +Meanwhile Gauffridi had arrived at Sainte-Baume, where he cut a sorry +figure. A man of sense, but weak and blameworthy, he foreboded but too +truly how that kind of popular tragedy would end; and in coming to a +strait so dreadful, he saw himself forsaken and betrayed by the child +he loved. He now entirely forsook himself. When he was confronted with +Louisa, she seemed to him like a judge, like one of those cruel and +subtle schoolmen who judged the causes of the Church. To all her +questions concerning doctrine, he only answered _yes_, assenting even +to points most open to dispute; as, for instance, to the assumption +"that the Devil in a court of justice might be believed on his word +and his oath." + +This lasted only a week, from the 1st to the 8th January. The clergy +of Marseilles demanded Gauffridi back. His friends, the Capuchins, +declared that they had found no signs of magic in his room. Four +canons of Marseilles came with authority to take him, and carried him +away home. + +If Gauffridi had fallen very low, his adversaries had not risen much. +Even the two inquisitors, Michalis and the Fleming, were in shameful +variance with each other. The partiality of the former for Madeline, +of the latter for Louisa, went beyond mere words, leading them into +opposite lines of action. That chaos of accusations, sermons, +revelations, which the Devil had dictated by the mouth of Louisa, the +Fleming who wrote it down maintained to be the very word of God, and +expressed his fear that somebody might tamper with the same. He owned +to a great mistrust of his chief, Michalis, who, he was sore afraid, +would so amend the papers in behalf of Madeline, as to ensure the ruin +of Louisa. To guard them to the best of his power, he shut himself up +in his room and underwent a regular siege. Michalis, with the +Parliament-men on his side, could only get at the manuscript by using +the King's name and breaking the door open. + +Louisa, afraid of nothing, sought to array the Pope against the King. +The Fleming carried an appeal to the legate at Avignon, against his +chief, Michalis. But the Papal Court had a prudent fear of causing +scandal by letting one inquisitor accuse another. Lacking its support, +the Fleming had no resource but to submit. To keep him quiet Michalis +gave him back his papers. + +Those of Michalis, forming a second report, dull and nowise +comparable with the former, are full of nought but Madeline. They +played music to try and soothe her: care was taken to note down when +she ate, and when she did not eat. Too much time indeed was taken up +about her, often in a way but little edifying. Strange questions are +put to her touching the Magician, and what parts of his body might +bear the mark of the Devil. She herself was examined. This would have +to be done at Aix by surgeons and doctors; but meanwhile, in the +height of his zeal, Michalis examined her at Sainte-Baume, and put +down the issue of his researches. No matron was called to see her. The +judges, lay and monkish, agreeing in this one matter, and having no +fear of each other's overlooking, seem to have quietly passed over +this contempt of outward forms. + +In Louisa, however, they found a judge. The bold woman branded the +indecency as with hot iron. "They who were swallowed up by the Flood +never behaved so ill!... Even of thee, O Sodom, the like was never +said!" + +She also averred that Madeline was given over to uncleanness. This was +the saddest thing of all. In her blind joy at being alive, at escaping +the flames, or else from some cloudy notion that it was her turn now +to act upon her judges, the poor simpleton would sing and dance at +times with a shameful freedom, in a coarse, indecent way. The old +Doctrinal father, Romillion, blushed for his Ursuline. Shocked to +remark the admiration of the men for her long hair, he said that such +a vanity must be taken from her, be cut away. + +In her better moments she was gentle and obedient. + +They would have liked to make her a second Louisa; but her devils were +vain and amorous; not, like the other's, eloquent and raging. When +they wanted her to preach, she could only utter sorry things. +Michalis was fain to play out the piece by himself. As chief +inquisitor, and bound greatly to outdo his Flemish underling, he +avowed that he had already drawn out of this small body a host of six +thousand, six hundred, and sixty devils: only a hundred still +remained. By way of convincing the public, he made her throw up the +charm or spell which by his account she had swallowed, and he drew it +from her mouth in some slimy matter. Who could hold out any longer? +Assurance itself stood stupefied and convinced. + +Madeline was in a fair way to escape: the only hindrance was herself. +Every moment she would be saying something rash, something to arouse +the misgivings of her judges, and urge them beyond all patience. She +declared that everything to her recalled Gauffridi, that everywhere +she saw him present. Nor would she hide from them her dreams of love. +"To-night," she said, "I was at the Sabbath. To my statue all covered +with gilding the magicians offered their homage. Each of them, in +honour thereof, made oblation of some blood drawn from his hands with +a lancet. _He_ was also there, on his knees, a rope round his neck, +beseeching me to go back and betray him not. I held out. Then said he, +'Is there anyone here who would die for her?' 'I,' said a young man, +and he was sacrificed by the magician." + +At another time she saw him, and he asked her only for one of her fine +fair locks. "And when I refused, he said, 'Only the half of one +hair.'" + +She swore, however, that she never yielded. But one day, the door +happening to be open, behold our convert running off at the top of her +speed to rejoin Gauffridi! + +They took her again, at least her body. But her soul? Michalis knew +not how to catch that again. Luckily he caught sight of her magic +ring, which was taken off, cut up, destroyed, and thrown into the +fire. Fancying, moreover, that this perverseness on the part of one so +gentle was due to unseen wizards who found their way into her room, he +set there a very substantial man at arms, with a sword to slash about +him everywhere, and cut the invisible imps into pieces. + +But the best physic for the conversion of Madeline was the death of +Gauffridi. On the 5th February, the inquisitor went to Aix for his +Lent preachings, saw the judges, and stirred them up. The Parliament, +swiftly yielding to such a pressure, sent off to Marseilles an order +to seize the rash man, who, finding himself so well backed by Bishop, +Chapter, Capuchins, and all the world, had fancied they would never +dare so far. + +Madeline from one quarter, Gauffridi from another, arrived at Aix. She +was so disturbed that they were forced to bind her. Her disorder was +frightful, and all were in great perplexity what to do. They bethought +them at least of one bold way of dealing with this sick child; one of +those fearful tricks that throw a woman into fits, and sometimes kill +her outright. A vicar-general of the archbishopric said that the +palace contained a dark narrow charnel-house, such as you may see in +the Escurial, and called in Spain a "rotting vat." + +There, in olden days, old bones of unknown dead were left to waste +away. Into this tomb-like cave the trembling girl was led. They +exorcised her by putting those chilly bones to her face. She did not +die of fright, but thenceforth gave herself up to their will and +pleasure; and so they got what they wanted, the death of the +conscience, the destruction of all that remained to her of moral +insight and free will. + +She became their pliant tool, ready to obey their least desire, to +flatter them, to try and guess beforehand what would give them most +pleasure. Huguenots were brought before her: she called them names. +Confronted with Gauffridi, she told forth by heart her grievances +against him, better than the King's own officers could have done. This +did not prevent her from squalling violently, when she was brought to +the church to excite the people against Gauffridi, by making her devil +blaspheme in the magician's name. Beelzebub speaking through her said, +"In the name of Gauffridi I abjure God;" and again, at the lifting up +of the Host, "Let the blood of the just be upon me, in the name of +Gauffridi!" + +An awful fellowship indeed! This twofold devil condemns one out of the +other's mouth; whatever Madeline says, is ascribed to Gauffridi. And +the scared crowd were impatient to behold the burning of the dumb +blasphemer, whose ungodliness so loudly declared itself by the voice +of the girl. + +The exorcisers then put to her this cruel question, to which they +themselves could have given the best answer:--"Why, Beelzebub, do you +speak so ill of your great friend?" Her answer was frightful: "If +there be traitors among men, why not among demons also? When I am with +Gauffridi, I am his to do all his will. But when you constrain me, I +betray him and turn him to scorn." + +However, she could not keep up this hateful mockery. Though the demon +of fear and fawning seemed to have gotten fast hold of her, there was +room still for despair. She could no longer take the slightest food; +and they who for five months had been killing her with exorcisms and +pretending to relieve her of six or seven thousand devils, were fain +to admit that she longed only to die, and greedily sought after any +means of self-destruction. Courage alone was wanting to her. Once she +pricked herself with a lancet, but lacked the spirit to persevere. +Once she caught up a knife, and when that was taken from her, tried to +strangle herself. She dug needles into her body, and then made one +last foolish effort to drive a long pin through her ear into her head. + +What became of Gauffridi? The inquisitor, who dwells so long on the +two women, says almost nothing about him. He walks as it were over +the fire. The little he does say is very strange. He relates that +having bound Gauffridi's eyes, they pricked him with needles all over +the body, to find out the callous places where the Devil had made his +mark. On the removal of the bandage, he learned, to his horror and +amazement, that the needle had thrice been stuck into him without his +feeling it; so he was marked in three places with the sign of Hell. +And the inquisitor added, "If we were in Avignon, this man should be +burnt to-morrow." + +He felt himself a lost man; and defended himself no more. His only +thought now was to see if he could save his life through any of the +Dominicans' foes. He wished, he said, to confess himself to the +Oratorians. But this new order, which might have been called the right +mean of Catholicism, was too cold and wary to take up a matter already +so hopeless and so far advanced. + +Thereon he went back again to the Begging Friars, confessing himself +to the Capuchins, and acknowledging all and more than all the truth, +that he might purchase life with dishonour. In Spain he would +assuredly have been enlarged, barring a term of penance in some +convent. But our Parliaments were sterner: they felt bound to prove +the greater purity of the lay jurisdiction. The Capuchins, themselves +a little shaky in the matter of morals, were not the people to draw +the lightning down on their own body. They surrounded Gauffridi, +sheltered him, gave him comfort day and night; but only in order that +he might own himself a magician, and so, because magic formed the main +head of his indictment, the seduction wrought by a confessor to the +great discredit of the clergy might be left entirely in the +background. + +So his friends the Capuchins, by dint of tender caresses and urgent +counsel, drew from him the fatal confession which, by their showing, +was to save his soul, but which was very certain to hand his body over +to the stake. + +The man thus lost and done for, they made an end with the girls whom +it was not their part to burn. A farcical scene took place. In a large +gathering of the clergy and the Parliament, Madeline was made to +appear, and, in words addressed to herself, her devil Beelzebub was +summoned to quit the place or else offer some opposition. Not caring +to do the latter, he went off in disgrace. + +Then Louisa, with her demon Verrine, was made to appear. But before +they drove away a spirit so friendly to the Church, the monks regaled +the Parliamentaries, who were new to such things, with the clever +management of this devil, making him perform a curious pantomime. "How +do the Seraphim, the Cherubim, the Thrones, behave before God?" "A +hard matter this:" says Louisa, "they have no bodies." But on their +repeating the command, she made an effort to obey, imitating the +flight of the one class, the fiery longing of the others; and ending +with the adoration, when she bowed herself before the judges, falling +prostrate with her head downwards. Then was the far-famed Louisa, so +proud and so untamable, seen to abase herself, kissing the pavement, +and with outstretched arms laying all her length thereon. + +It was a strange, frivolous, unseemly exhibition, by which she was +made to atone for her terrible success among the people. Once more she +won the assembly by dealing a cruel dagger-stroke at Gauffridi, who +stood there strongly bound. "Where," said they, "is Beelzebub now, the +devil who went out of Madeline?" "I see him plainly at Gauffridi's +ear." + +Have you had shame and horror enough? We should like further to know +what the poor wretch said, when put to the torture. Both the ordinary +and the extraordinary forms were used upon him. His revelations must +undoubtedly have thrown light on the curious history of the nunneries. +Those tales the Parliament stored up with greediness, as weapons that +might prove serviceable to itself; but it retained them "under the +seal of the Court." + +The inquisitor Michalis, who was fiercely assailed in public for an +excess of animosity so closely resembling jealousy, was summoned by +his order to a meeting at Paris, and never saw the execution of +Gauffridi, who was burnt alive four days afterwards, 30th April, 1611, +at Aix. + +The name of the Dominicans, damaged by this trial, was not much +exalted by another case of _possession_ got up at Beauvais in such a +way as to ensure them all the honours of a war, the account of which +they got printed in Paris. Louisa's devil having been reproached for +not speaking Latin, the new demoniac, Denise Lacaille, mingled a few +words of it in her gibberish. They made a plenty of noise about her, +often displayed her in the midst of a procession, and even carried her +from Beauvais to Our Lady of Liesse. But the matter kept quite cool. +This Picard pilgrimage lacked the horror, the dramatic force of the +affair at Sainte-Baume. This Lacaille, for all her Latin, had neither +the burning eloquence, nor the mettle, nor the fierce rage, that +marked the woman of Provence. The only end of all her proceedings was +to amuse the Huguenots. + +What became of the two rivals, Madeline and Louisa? The former, or at +least her shadow, was kept on Papal ground, for fear of her being led +to speak about so mournful a business. She was never shown in public, +save in the character of a penitent. She was taken out among the poor +women to cut wood, which was afterwards sold for alms; the parents, +whom she had brought to shame, having forsworn and forsaken her. + +Louisa, for her part, had said during the trial: "I shall make no +boast about it. The trial over, I shall soon be dead." But this was +not to be. Instead of dying, she went on killing others. The +murdering devil within her waxed stormier than ever. She set about +revealing to the inquisitors the names, both Christian and surnames, +of all whom she fancied to have any dealings with magic; among others +a poor girl named Honoria, "blind of both eyes," who was burnt alive. + +"God grant," says Father Michalis, in conclusion, "that all this may +redound to His own glory and to that of His Church!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE DEMONIACS OF LOUDUN--URBAN GRANDIER: 1632-1634. + + +In the _State Memoirs_, written by the famous Father Joseph, and known +to us by extracts only--the work itself having, no doubt, been wisely +suppressed as too instructive--the good Father explained how, in 1633, +he had the luck to discover a heresy, a huge heresy, in which ever so +many confessors and directors were concerned. That excellent army of +Church-constables, those dogs of the Holy Troop, the Capuchins, had, +not only in the wildernesses, but even in the populous parts of +France--at Chartres, in Picardy, everywhere--got scent of some +dreadful game; the _Alumbrados_ namely, or Illuminate, of Spain, who +being sorely persecuted there, had fled for shelter into France, +where, in the world of women, especially among the convents, they +dropped the gentle poison which was afterwards called by the name of +Molinos.[90] + + [90] Molinos, born at Saragossa in 1627, died a prisoner to + the Inquisition in 1696. His followers were called + Quietists.--TRANS. + +The wonder was, that the matter had not been sooner known. Having +spread so far, it could not have been wholly hidden. The Capuchins +swore that in Picardy alone, where the girls are weak and +warmer-blooded than in the South, this amorously mystic folly owned +some sixty thousand professors. Did all the clergy share in it--all +the confessors and directors? We must remember, that attached to the +official directors were a good many laymen, who glowed with the same +zeal for the souls of women. One of them, who afterwards made some +noise by his talent and boldness, is the author of _Spiritual +Delights_, Desmarets of Saint Sorlin. + + * * * * * + +Without remembering the new state of things, we should fail to +understand the all-powerful attitude of the director towards the nuns, +of whom he was now a hundred-fold more the master than he had been in +days of yore. + +The reforming movement of the Council of Trent, for the better +enclosing of monasteries, was not much followed up in the reign of +Henry IV., when the nuns received company, gave balls, danced, and so +forth. In the reign, however, of Louis XIII., it began afresh with +greater earnestness. The Cardinal Rochefoucauld, or rather the Jesuits +who drew him on, insisted on a great deal of outward decency. Shall we +say, then, that all entrance into the convents was forbidden? One man +only went in every day, not only into the house, but also, if he +chose, into each of the cells; a fact made evident from several known +cases, especially that of David at Louviers. By this reform, this +closing system, the door was shut upon the world at large, on all +inconvenient rivals, while the director enjoyed the sole command of +his nuns, the special right of private interviews with them. + +What would come of this? The speculative might treat it as a problem; +not so practical men or physicians. The physician Wyer tells some +plain stories to show what did come of it from the sixteenth century +onwards. In his Fourth Book he quotes a number of nuns who went mad +for love. And in Book III. he talks of an estimable Spanish priest +who, going by chance into a nunnery, came out mad, declaring that the +brides of Jesus were his also, brides of the priest, who was a vicar +of Jesus. He had masses said in return for the favour which God had +granted him in this speedy marriage with a whole convent. + +If this was the result of one passing visit, we may understand the +plight of a director of nuns when he was left alone with them, and +could take advantage of the new restrictions to spend the day among +them, listening hour by hour to the perilous secret of their +languishings and their weaknesses. + +In the plight of these girls the mere senses are not all in all. +Allowance must be made for their listlessness of mind; for the +absolute need of some change in their way of life; of some dream or +diversion to relieve their lifelong monotony. Strange things are +happening constantly at this period. Travels, events in the Indies, +the discovery of a world, the invention of printing: what romance +there is everywhere! While all this goes on without, putting men's +minds into a flutter, how, think you, can those within bear up against +the oppressive sameness of monastic life--the irksomeness of its +lengthy services, seasoned by nothing better than a sermon preached +through the nose? + + * * * * * + +The laity themselves, living amidst so many distractions, desire, nay +insist, that their confessors shall absolve them for their acts of +inconstancy. The priests, on their side, are drawn or forced on, step +by step. There grows up a vast literature, at once various and +learned, of casuistry, of the art of allowing all things; a +progressive literature, in which the indulgence of to-night seems to +become the severity of the morrow. + +This casuistry was meant for the world; that mysticism for the +convent. The annihilation of the person and the death of the will form +the great mystic principle. The true moral bearings of that principle +are well shown by Desmarets. "The devout," he says, "having offered up +and annihilated their own selves, exist no longer but in God. +_Thenceforth they can do no wrong._ The better part of them is so +divine that it no longer knows what the other is doing."[91] + + [91] An old doctrine which often turns up again in the Middle + Ages. In the seventeenth century it prevails among the + convents of France and Spain. A Norman angel, in the Louviers + business, teaches a nun to despise the body and disregard the + flesh, after the example of Jesus, who bared himself for a + scourging before all the people. He enforces an utter + surrendering of the soul and the will by the example of the + Virgin, "who obeyed the angel Gabriel and conceived, without + risk of evil, for impurity could not come of a spirit." At + Louviers, David, an old director of some authority, taught + "that sin could be killed by sin, as the better way of + becoming innocent again." + +It might have been thought that the zealous Joseph who had raised so +loud a cry of alarm against these corrupt teachers, would have gone +yet further; that a grand searching inquiry would have taken place; +that the countless host whose number, in one province only, were +reckoned at sixty thousand, would be found out and closely examined. +But not so: they disappear, and nothing more is known about them. A +few, it is said, were imprisoned; but trial there was none: only a +deep silence. To all appearance Richelieu cared but little about +fathoming the business. In his tenderness for the Capuchins he was not +so blind as to follow their lead in a matter which would have thrown +the supervision of all confessors into their hands. + +As a rule, the monks had a jealous dislike of the secular clergy. +Entire masters of the Spanish women, they were too dirty to be +relished by those of France; who preferred going to their own priests +or to some Jesuit confessor, an amphious creature, half monk, half +worldling. If Richelieu had once let loose the pack of Capuchins, +Recollects, Carmelites, Dominicans, &c., who among the clergy would +have been safe? What director, what priest, however upright, but had +used, and used amiss, the gentle language of the Quietists towards +their penitents? + +Richelieu took care not to trouble the clergy, while he was already +bringing about the General Assembly from which he was soon to ask a +contribution towards the war. One trial alone was granted the monks, +the trial of a vicar, but a vicar who dealt in magic; a trial wherein +matters were allowed, as in the case of Gauffridi, to get so +entangled, that no confessor, no director, saw his own likeness there, +but everyone in full security could say, "This is not I." + + * * * * * + +Thanks to these strict precautions the Grandier affair is involved in +some obscurity.[92] Its historian, the Capuchin Tranquille, proves +convincingly that Grandier was a wizard, and, still more, a devil; and +on the trial he is called, as Ashtaroth might have been called, +_Grandier of the Dominations_. On the other hand, Mnage is ready to +rank him with great men accused of magic, with the martyrs of free +thought. + + [92] The _History of the Loudun Devils_, by the Protestant + Aubin, is an earnest, solid book, confirmed by the _Reports_ + of Laubardemont himself. That of the Capuchin Tranquille is a + piece of grotesquerie. The _Proceedings_ are in the Great + Library of Paris. M. Figuier has given a long and excellent + account of the whole affair, in his _History of the + Marvellous_. + +In order to see a little more clearly, we must not set Grandier by +himself; we must keep his place in the devilish trilogy of those +times, in which he figured only as a second act; we must explain him +by the first act, already shown to us in the dreadful business of +Sainte-Baume, and the death of Gauffridi; we must explain him by the +third act, by the affair at Louviers, which copied Loudun, as Loudun +had copied Sainte-Baume, and which in its turn owned a Gauffridi and +an Urban Grandier. + +The three cases are one and selfsame. In each case there is a +libertine priest, in each a jealous monk, and a frantic nun by whose +mouth the Devil is made to speak; and in all three the priest gets +burnt at last. + +And here you may notice one source of light which makes these matters +clearer to our eyes than if we saw them through the miry shades of a +monastery in Spain or Italy. In those lands of Southern laziness, the +nuns were astoundingly passive, enduring the life of the seraglio and +even worse.[93] Our French women, on the contrary, gifted with a +personality at once strong, lively, and hard to please, were equally +dreadful in their jealousy and in their hate; and being devils indeed +without metaphor, were accordingly rash, blusterous, and prompt to +accuse. Their revelations were very plain, so plain indeed at the +last, that everyone felt ashamed; and after thirty years and three +special cases, the whole thing, begun as it was through terror, got +fairly extinguished in its own dulness beneath hisses of general +disgust. + + [93] See Del Rio, Llorente Ricci, &c. + +It was not in Loudun, amidst crowds of Poitevins, in the presence of +so many scoffing Huguenots, in the very town where they held their +great national synods, that one would have looked for an event so +discreditable to the Catholics. But these latter, living, as it were, +in a conquered country,[94] in the old Protestant towns, with the +greatest freedom, and thinking, not without cause, of the people they +had often massacred and but lately overcome, were not the persons to +say a word about it. Catholic Loudun, composed of magistrates, +priests, monks, a few nobles, and some workmen, dwelled aloof from the +rest, like a true conquering settlement. This settlement, as one might +easily guess, was rent in twain by the rivalry of the priests and the +monks. + + [94] The capture of Rochelle, the last of the Huguenot + strongholds took place in 1628.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +The monks, being numerous and proud, as men specially sent forth to +make converts, kept the pick of the pavement against the Protestants, +and were confessing the Catholic ladies, when there arrived from +Bordeaux a young vicar, brought up by the Jesuits, a man of letters, +of pleasing manners, who wrote well and spoke better. He made a noise +in the pulpit, and ere long in the world. By birth a townsman of +Mantes, of a wrangling turn, he was Southern by education, with all +the readiness of a Bordelais, boastful and frivolous as a Gascon. He +soon managed to set the whole town by the ears, drawing the women to +his side, while the men were mostly against him. He became lofty, +insolent, unbearable, devoid of respect for everything. The Carmelites +he overwhelmed with jibes; he would rail away from his pulpit against +monks in general. They choked with rage at his sermons. Proud and +stately, he went along the streets of Loudun like a Father of the +Church; but by night he would steal, with less of bluster, down the +byeways and through back-doors. + +They all surrendered themselves to his pleasure. The wife of the Crown +Counsel was aware of his charms; still more so the daughter of the +Public Prosecutor, who had a child by him. This did not satisfy him. +Master of the ladies, this conqueror pushed his advantage until he had +gained the nuns. + +By that time the Ursulines abounded everywhere, sisters devoted to +education, feminine missionaries in a Protestant land, who courted and +pleased the mothers, while they won over the little girls. The nuns of +Loudun formed a small convent of young ladies, poor and well-born. The +convent in itself was poor, the nuns for whom it was founded, having +been granted nothing but their house, an old Huguenot college. The +prioress, a lady of good birth and high connections, burned to exalt +her nunnery, to enlarge it, make it wealthier and wider known. Perhaps +she would have chosen Grandier, as being then the fashion, had she not +already gotten for her director a priest with very different rootage +in the country, a near kinsman of the two chief magistrates. The +Canon Mignon, as he was called, held the prioress fast. These two were +enraged at learning through the confessional--the "Ladies Superior" +might confess their nuns--that the young nuns dreamed of nothing but +this Grandier, of whom there was so much talk. + +Thereupon three parties, the threatened director, the cheated husband, +the outraged father, joined together by a common jealousy, swore +together the destruction of Grandier. To ensure success, they only +needed to let him go on. He was ruining himself quite fast enough. An +incident that came to light made noise enough almost to bring down the +town. + + * * * * * + +The nuns placed in that old Huguenot mansion, were far from easy in +their minds. Their boarders, children of the town, and perhaps also +some of the younger nuns, had amused themselves with frightening the +rest by playing at ghosts and apparitions. Little enough of order was +there among this throng of rich spoilt girls. They would run about the +passages at night, until they frightened themselves. Some of them were +sick, or else sick at heart. But these fears and fancies mingled with +the gossip of the town, of which they heard but too much during the +day, until the ghost by night took the form of Grandier himself. +Several said they saw him, felt him near them in the night, and +yielded unawares to his bold advances. Was all this fancy, or the fun +of novices? Had Grandier bribed the porteress or ventured to climb +the walls? This part of the business was never cleared up. + +From that time the three felt sure of catching him. And first, among +the small folk under their protection, they stirred up two good souls +to declare that they could no longer keep as vicar a profligate, a +wizard, a devil, a freethinker, who bent one knee in church instead of +two, who scoffed at rules and granted dispensations contrary to the +rights of the Bishop. A shrewd accusation, which turned against him +his natural defender, the Bishop of Poitiers, and delivered him over +to the fury of the monks. + +To say truth, all this was planned with much skill. Besides raising up +two poor people as accusers, they thought it advisable to have him +cudgelled by a noble. In those days of duelling a man who let himself +be cudgelled with impunity lost ground with the public, and sank in +the esteem of the women. Grandier deeply felt the blow. Fond of making +a noise in all cases, he went to the King, threw himself on his knees, +and besought vengeance for the insult to his gown. From so devout a +king he might have gained it; but here there chanced to be some +persons who told the King that it was all an affair of love, the fury +of a betrayed husband wreaking itself on his foe. + +At the spiritual court of Poitiers, Grandier was condemned to do +penance, to be banished from Loudun, and disgraced as a priest. But +the civil court took up the matter and found him innocent. He had +still to await the orders of him by whom Poitiers was spiritually +overruled, Sourdis, Archbishop of Bordeaux. That warlike prelate, an +admiral and brave sailor more than a priest, shrugged his shoulders on +hearing of such peccadilloes. He acquitted the vicar, but at the same +time wisely recommended him to go and live anywhere out of Loudun. + +This the proud man did not care to do. He wanted to enjoy his triumph +on the very field of battle, to show off before the ladies. He came +back to Loudun in broad day, with mighty noise; the women all looking +out of window, as he went by with a laurel-branch in his hand. + + * * * * * + +Not satisfied with that piece of folly, he began to threaten, to +demand reparation. Thus pushed and imperilled in their turn, his +enemies called to remembrance the affair of Gauffridi, where the +Devil, the Father of Lies, was restored to his honours and accepted in +a court of justice as a right truthful witness, worthy of belief on +the side of the Church, worthy of belief on the side of His Majesty's +servants. In despair they invoked a devil and found one at their +command. He showed himself among the Ursulines. + +A dangerous thing; but then, how many were nearly concerned in its +success! The prioress saw her poor humble convent suddenly attracting +the gaze of the Court, of the provinces, of all the world. The monks +saw themselves victorious over their rivals the priests. They pictured +anew those popular battles waged with the Devil in a former century, +and often, as at Soissons, before the church doors; the terror of the +people, and their joy at the triumph of the Good Spirit; the +confession drawn from the Devil touching God's presence in the +Sacrament; and the humiliation of the Huguenots at being refuted by +the Demon himself. + +In these tragi-comedies the exorciser represented God, or at any rate +the Archangel, overthrowing the dragon. He came down from the platform +in utter exhaustion, streaming with sweat, but victorious, to be borne +away in the arms of the crowd, amidst the blessings of good women who +shed tears of joy the while. + +Therefore it was that in these trials a dash of witchcraft was always +needful. The Devil alone roused the interest of the vulgar. They could +not always see him coming out of a body in the shape of a black toad, +as at Bordeaux in 1610. But it was easy to make it up to them by a +grand display of splendid stage scenery. The affair of Provence owed +much of its success to Madeline's desolate wildness and the terror of +Sainte-Baume. Loudun was regaled with the uproar and the bacchanal +frenzy of a host of exorcisers distributed among several churches. +Lastly, Louviers, as we shall presently see, put a little new life +into this fading fashion by inventing midnight scenes, in which the +demons who possessed the nuns began digging by the glimmer of torches, +until they drew forth certain charms from the holes wherein they had +been concealed. + + * * * * * + +The Loudun business began with the prioress and a lay sister of hers. +They had convulsive fits, and talked infernal gibberish. Other of the +nuns began copying them, one bold girl especially taking up Louisa's +part at Marseilles, with the same devil Leviathan, the leading demon +of trickery and evil speaking. + +The little town was all in a tremble. Monks of every hue provided +themselves with nuns, shared them all round, and exorcised them by +threes and fours. The churches were parcelled out among them; the +Capuchins alone taking two for themselves. The crowd go after them, +swollen by all the women in the place, and in this frightened +audience, throbbing with anxiety, more than one cries out that she, +too, is feeling the devils.[95] Six girls of the town are possessed. +And the bare recital of these alarming events begets two new cases of +possession at Chinon. + + [95] The same hysteric contagion marks the "Revivals" of a + later period, down to the last mad outbreak in Ireland. The + translator hopes some day to work out the physical question + here stated.--TRANS. + +Everywhere the thing was talked of, at Paris, at the Court. Our +Spanish queen,[96] who is imaginative and devout, sends off her +almoner; nay more, sends her faithful follower, the old papist, Lord +Montague, who sees, who believes everything, and reports it all to the +Pope. It is a miracle proven. He had seen the wounds on a certain nun, +and the marks made by the Devil on the Lady Superior's hands. + + [96] Anne of Austria, wife of Louis XIII.--TRANS. + +What said the King of France to this? All his devotion was turned on +the Devil, on hell, on thoughts of fear. It is said that Richelieu was +glad to keep him thus. I doubt it; the demons were essentially +Spanish, taking the Spanish side: if ever they talked politics, they +must have spoken against Richelieu. Perhaps he was afraid of them. At +any rate, he did them homage, and sent his niece to prove the interest +he took in the matter. + + * * * * * + +The Court believed, but Loudun itself did not. Its devils, but sorry +imitators of the Marseilles demons, rehearsed in the morning what they +had learnt the night before from the well-known handbook of Father +Michalis. They would never have known what to say but for the secret +exorcisms, the careful rehearsal of the day's farce, by which night +after night they were trained to figure before the people. + +One sturdy magistrate, bailiff of the town, made a stir: going himself +to detect the knaves, he threatened and denounced them. Such, too, was +the tacit opinion of the Archbishop of Bordeaux, to whom Grandier +appealed. He despatched a set of rules for the guidance at least of +the exorcisers, for putting a stop to their arbitrary doings; and, +better still, he sent his surgeon, who examined the girls, and found +them to be neither bewitched, nor mad, nor even sick. What were they +then? Knaves, to be sure.[97] + + [97] Not of necessity knaves, Mr. Michelet; at least not + wilfully so; but silly hysteric patients, of the + spirit-rapping, revivalist order, victims of nervous + derangement, or undue nervous sensibility.--TRANS. + +So through the century keeps on this noble duel between the Physician +and the Devil, this battle of light and knowledge with the dark shades +of falsehood. We saw its beginning in Agrippa and Wyer. Doctor Duncan +carried it bravely on at Loudun, and fearlessly impressed on others +the belief that this affair was nothing but a farce. + +For all his alleged resistance, the Demon was frightened, held his +tongue, quite lost his voice. But people's passions had been too +fiercely roused for the matter to end there. The tide flowed again so +strongly in favour of Grandier, that the assailed became in their turn +assailants. An apothecary of kin to the accusers was sued by a rich +young lady of the town for speaking of her as the vicar's mistress. He +was condemned to apologise for his slander. + +The prioress was a lost woman. It would have been easy to prove, what +one witness afterwards saw, that the marks upon her were made with +paint renewed daily. But she was kinswoman to one of the King's +judges, Laubardemont, and he saved her. He was simply charged to +overthrow the strong places of Loudun. He got himself commissioned to +try Grandier. The Cardinal was given to understand that the accused +was vicar and friend of the _Loudun shoemaker_,[98] was one of the +numerous agents of Mary of Medici, had made himself his parishioner's +secretary, and written a disgraceful pamphlet in her name. + + [98] A woman named Hammon, of low birth, who entered the + service, and rose high in the good graces of Mary of Medici. + See Dumas' _Celebrated Crimes_.--TRANS. + +Richelieu, for his part, would have liked to show a high-minded scorn +of the whole business, if he could have done so with safety to +himself. The Capuchins and Father Joseph had an eye to that also. +Richelieu would have given them a fine handle against him with the +King, had he displayed a want of zeal. One Quillet, after much grave +reflection, went to see the Minister and give him warning. But the +other, afraid to listen, regarded him with so stern a gaze that the +giver of advice deemed it prudent to seek shelter in Italy. + + * * * * * + +Laubardemont arrived at Loudun on the 6th December, 1633, bringing +along with him great fear, and unbounded powers; even those of the +King himself. The whole strength of the kingdom became, as it were, a +dreadful bludgeon to crush one little fly. + +The magistrates were wroth; the civic lieutenant warned Grandier that +he would have to arrest him on the morrow. The latter paid no heed to +him, and was arrested accordingly. In a moment he was carried off, +without form of trial, to the dungeons of Angers. Presently he was +taken back and thrown, where think you? Into the house, the room of +one of his enemies, who had the windows walled up so as well-nigh to +choke him. The loathsome scrutiny of the wizard's body, in order to +find out the Devil's marks by sticking needles all over it, was +carried on by the hands of the accusers themselves, who took their +revenge upon him beforehand in the foretaste thus given him of his +future punishment. + +They led him to the churches, confronted him with the girls, who had +got their cue from Laubardemont. These Bacchanals, for such they +became under the fuddling effect of some drugs administered by the +condemned apothecary above-named, flung out in such frantic rages, +that Grandier was nearly perishing one day beneath their nails. + +Unable to imitate the eloquence of the Marseilles demoniac, they tried +obscenity in its stead. It was a hideous thing to see these girls give +full vent in public to their sensual fury, on the plea of scolding +their pretended devils. Thus indeed it was that they managed to swell +their audiences. People flocked to hear from the lips of these women +what no woman would else have dared to utter. + +As the matter grew more hateful, so it also grew more laughable. They +were sure to repeat all awry what little Latin was ever whispered to +them. The public found that the devils had never gone through _their +lower classes_. The Capuchins, however, coolly said that if these +demons were weak in Latin, they were marvellous speakers of Iroquois +and Tupinambi.[99] + + [99] Indians of the coast of Brazil.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +A farce so shameful, seen from a distance of sixty leagues, from St. +Germain or the Louvre, appeared miraculous, awful, terrifying. The +Court admired and trembled. Richelieu to please them did a cowardly +thing. He ordered money to be paid to the exorcisers, to the nuns. + +The height of favour to which they had risen, drove the plotters +altogether mad. Senseless words were followed by shameful deeds. +Pleading that the nuns were tired, the exorcisers got them outside the +town, took them about by themselves. One of them, at least to all +appearance, returned pregnant. In the fifth or sixth month all outward +trace of it disappeared, and the devil within her acknowledged how +wickedly he had slandered the poor nun by making her look so large. +This tale concerning Loudun we learn from the historian of +Louviers.[100] + + [100] Esprit de Bosroger, p. 135. + +It is stated that Father Joseph, after a secret journey to the spot, +saw to what end the matter was coming, and noiselessly backed out of +it. The Jesuits also went, tried their exorcisms, did next to nothing, +got scent of the general feeling, and stole off in like manner. + +But the monks, the Capuchins, were gone so far, that they could only +save themselves by frightening others. They laid some treacherous +snares for the daring bailiff and his wife, seeking to destroy them, +and thereby quench the coming reaction of justice. Lastly, they urged +on the commissioners to despatch Grandier. Things could be carried no +further: the nuns themselves were slipping out of their hands. After +that dreadful orgie of sensual rage and immodest shouting in order to +obtain the shedding of human blood, two or three of them swooned away, +were seized with disgust and horror; vomited up their very selves. +Despite the hideous doom that awaited them if they spoke the truth, +despite the certainty of ending their days in a dungeon, they owned in +church that they were damned, that they had been playing with the +Devil, and Grandier was innocent. + + * * * * * + +They ruined themselves, but could not stay the issue. A general +protest by the town to the King failed to stay it also. On the 18th +August, 1634, Grandier was condemned to the stake. So violent were his +enemies that, for the second time before burning him, they insisted on +having him stuck with needles in order to find out the Devil's marks. +One of his judges would have had even his nails torn out of him, had +not the surgeon withheld his leave. + +They were afraid of the last words their victim might say on the +scaffold. Among his papers there had been found a manuscript +condemning the celibacy of priests, and those who called him a wizard +themselves believed him to be a freethinker. They remembered the brave +words which the martyrs of free thought had thrown out against their +judges; they called to mind the last speech of Giordano Bruno, the +bold defiance of Vanini.[101] So they agreed with Grandier, that if he +were prudent, he should be saved from burning, perhaps be strangled. +The weak priest, being a man of flesh, yielded to this demand of the +flesh, and promised to say nothing. He spoke not a word on the road, +nor yet upon the scaffold. When he was fairly fastened to the post, +with everything ready, and the fire so arranged as to enfold him +swiftly in smoke and flames, his own confessor, a monk, set the +faggots ablaze without waiting for the executioner. The victim, +pledged to silence, had only time to say, "So, you have deceived me!" +when the flames whirled fiercely upwards, and the furnace of pain +began, and nothing was audible save the wretch's screams. + + [101] Both Neapolitans, burnt alive, the former at Venice in + 1600, the latter at Toulouse in 1619.--TRANS. + +Richelieu in his Memoirs says little, and that with evident shame, +concerning this affair. He gives one to believe that he only followed +the reports that reached him, the voice of general opinion. +Nevertheless, by rewarding the exorcisers, by throwing the reins to +the Capuchins, and letting them triumph over France, he gave no slight +encouragement to that piece of knavery. Gauffridi, thus renewed in +Grandier, is about to reappear in yet fouler plight in the Louviers +affair. + +In this very year, 1634, the demons hunted from Poitou pass over into +Normandy, copying again and again the fooleries of Sainte-Baume, +without any trace of invention, of talent, or of imagination. The +frantic Leviathan of Provence, when counterfeited at Loudun, loses his +Southern sting, and only gets out of a scrape by talking fluently to +virgins in the language of Sodom. Presently, alas! at Louviers he +loses even his old daring, imbibes the sluggish temper of the North, +and sinks into a sorry sprite.[102] + + [102] Wright and Dumas both differ from M. Michelet in their + view of Urban Grandier's character. The latter especially, + regards him as an innocent victim to his own fearlessness and + the hate of his foes, among whom not the least deadly was + Richelieu himself, who bore him a deep personal + grudge.--TRANS. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE DEMONIACS OF LOUVIERS--MADELINE BAVENT: 1633-1647. + + +Had Richelieu allowed the inquiry demanded by Father Joseph into the +doings of the Illuminate Confessors, some strange light would have +been thrown into the depth of the cloisters, on the daily life of the +nuns. Failing that, we may still learn from the Louviers story, which +is far more instructive than those of Aix and Loudun, that, +notwithstanding the new means of corruption furnished by Illuminism, +the director still resorted to the old trickeries of witchcraft, of +apparitions, heavenly or infernal, and so forth.[103] + + [103] It was very easy to cheat those who wished to be + cheated. By this time celibacy was harder to practise than in + the Middle Ages, the number of fasts and bloodlettings being + greatly reduced. Many died from the nervous plethora of a + life so cruelly sluggish. They made no secret of their + torments, owning them to their sisters, to their confessor, + to the Virgin herself. A pitiful thing, a thing to sorrow + for, not to ridicule. In Italy, a nun besought the Virgin for + pity's sake to grant her a lover. + +Of the three directors successively appointed to the Convent of +Louviers in the space of thirty years, David, the first, was an +Illuminate, who forestalled Molinos; the second, Picart, was a wizard +dealing with the Devil; and Boull, the third, was a wizard working +in the guise of an angel. + +There is an excellent book about this business; it is called _The +History of Magdalen Bavent_, a nun of Louviers; with her Examination, +&c., 1652: Rouen.[104] The date of this book accounts for the thorough +freedom with which it was written. During the wars of the Fronde, a +bold Oratorian priest, who discovered the nun in one of the Rouen +prisons, took courage from her dictation to write down the story of +her life. + + [104] I know of no book more important, more dreadful, or + worthier of being reprinted. It is the most powerful + narrative of its class. _Piety Afflicted_, by the Capuchin + Esprit de Bosroger, is a work immortal in the annals of + tomfoolery. The two excellent pamphlets by the doughty + surgeon, Yvelin, the _Inquiry_ and the _Apology_, are in the + Library of Ste. Genevieve. + +Born at Rouen in 1607, Madeline was left an orphan at nine years old. +At twelve she was apprenticed to a milliner. The confessor, a +Franciscan, held absolute sway in the house of this milliner, who as +maker of clothes for the nuns, was dependent on the Church. The monk +caused the apprentices, whom he doubtless made drunk with belladonna +and other magical drinks, to believe that they had been taken to the +Sabbath and there married to the devil Dagon. Three were already +possessed by him, and Madeline at fourteen became the fourth. + +She was a devout worshipper, especially of St. Francis. A Franciscan +monastery had just been founded at Louviers, by a lady of Rouen, widow +of lawyer Hennequin, who was hanged for cheating. She hoped by this +good deed of hers to help in saving her husband's soul. To that end +she sought counsel of a holy man, the old priest David, who became +director to the new foundation. Standing at the entrance of the town, +with a wood surrounding it, this convent, born of so tragical a +source, seemed quite gloomy and poor enough for a place of stern +devotion. David was known as author of a _Scourge for Rakes_, an odd +and violent book against the abuses that defiled the Cloister.[105] +All of a sudden this austere person took up some very strange ideas +concerning purity. He became an Adamite, preached up the nakedness of +Adam in his days of innocence. The docile nuns of Louviers sought to +subdue and abase the novices, to break them into obedience, by +insisting--of course in summer-time--that these young Eves should +return to the plight of their common mother. In this state they were +sent out for exercise in some secluded gardens, and were taken into +the chapel itself. Madeline, who at sixteen had come to be received as +a novice, was too proud, perhaps in those days too pure also, to +submit to so strange a way of life. She got an angry scolding for +having tried at communion to hide her bosom with the altar-cloth. + + [105] See Floquet; _Parliament of Normandy_, vol. v. p. 636. + +Not less unwilling was she to uncover her soul, to confess to the Lady +Superior, after the usual monastic custom of which the abbesses were +particularly fond. She would rather trust herself with old David, who +kept her apart from the rest. He himself confided his own ailments +into her ear. Nor did he hide from her his inner teaching, the +Illuminism, which governed the convent: "You must kill sin by being +made humble and lost to all sense of pride through sin." Madeline was +frightened at the depths of depravity reached by the nuns, who quietly +carried out the teaching with which they had been imbued. She avoided +their company, kept to herself, and succeeded in getting made one of +the doorkeepers. + + * * * * * + +David died when she was eighteen. Old age prevented his going far with +the girl. But the vicar Picart, who succeeded him, was furious in his +pursuit of her; at the confessional spoke to her only of his love. He +made her his sextoness, that he might meet her alone in chapel. She +liked him not; but the nuns forbade her to have another confessor, +lest she might divulge their little secrets. And thus she was given +over to Picart. He beset her when she was sick almost to death; +seeking to frighten her by insisting that from David he had received +some infernal prescriptions. He sought to win her compassion by +feigning illness and begging her to come and see him. Thenceforth he +became her master, upset her mind with magic potions, and worked her +into believing that she had gone with him to the Sabbath, there to +officiate as altar and victim. At length, exceeding even the Sabbath +usages and daring the scandal that would follow, he made her to be +with child. + +The nuns were afraid of one who knew the state of their morals; and +their interest also bound them to him. The convent was enriched by his +energy, his good repute, the alms and gifts he attracted towards it +from every quarter. He was building them a large church. We saw in the +Loudun business by what rivalries and ambitions these houses were led +away, how jealously they strove each to outdo the others. Through the +trust reposed in him by the wealthy, Picart saw himself raised into +the lofty part of benefactor and second founder of the convent. +"Sweetheart," he said to Madeline, "that noble church is all my +building! After my death you will see wonders wrought there. Do you +not agree to that?" + +This fine gentleman did not put himself out at all regarding Madeline. +He paid a dowry for her, and made a nun of her who was already a +lay-sister. Thus, being no longer a doorkeeper, she could live in one +of the inner rooms, and there be brought to bed at her convenience. By +means of certain drugs, and practices of their own, the convents could +do without the help of doctors. Madeline said that she was delivered +several times. She never said what became of the newly-born. + +Picart being now an old man, feared lest Madeline might in her +fickleness fly off some day, and utter words of remorse to another +confessor. So he took a detestable way of binding her to himself +beyond recall, by forcing her to make a will in which she promised "to +die when he died, and to be wherever he was." This was a dreadful +thought for the poor soul. Must she be drawn along with him into the +bottomless pit? Must she go down with him, even into hell? She deemed +herself for ever lost. Become his property, his mere tool, she was +used and misused by him for all kinds of purposes. He made her do the +most shameful things. He employed her as a magical charm to gain over +the rest of the nuns. A holy wafer steeped in Madeline's blood, and +buried in the garden, would be sure to disturb their senses and their +minds. + +This was the very year in which Urban Grandier was burnt. Throughout +France, men spoke of nothing but the devils of Loudun. The +Penitentiary of Evreux, who had been one of the actors on that stage, +carried the dreadful tale back with him to Normandy. Madeline fancied +herself bewitched and knocked about by devils; followed about by a +lewd cat with eyes of fire. By degrees, other nuns caught the +disorder, which showed itself in odd supernatural jerks and writhings. +Madeline had besought aid of a Capuchin, afterwards of the Bishop of +Evreux. The prioress was not sorry for a step of which she must have +been aware, for she saw what wealth and fame a like business had +brought to the Convent of Loudun. But for six years the bishop turned +a deaf ear to the prayer, doubtless through fear of Richelieu, who was +then at work on a reform of the cloisters. + +Richelieu wanted to bring these scandals to an end. It was not till +his own death, and that of Louis XIII., during the break-up which +followed on the rule of the Queen and Mazarin, that the priests again +betook themselves to working wonders, and waging war with the Devil. +Picart being dead, they were less shy of a matter in which so +dangerous a man might have accused others in his turn. They met the +visions of Madeline, by looking out a visionary for themselves. They +got admission into the convent for a certain Sister Anne of the +Nativity, a girl of sanguine, hysteric temperament, frantic at need +and half-mad, so far at least as to believe in her own lies. A kind of +dogfight was got up between the two. They besmeared each other with +false charges. Anne saw the Devil quite naked, by Madeline's side. +Madeline swore to seeing Anne at the Sabbath, along with the Lady +Superior, the Mother-Assistant, and the Mother of the Novices. Besides +this, there was nothing new; merely a hashing up of the two great +trials at Aix and Loudun. They read and followed the printed +narratives only. No wit, no invention, was shown by either. + +Anne, the accuser, and her devil Leviathan, were backed by the +Penitentiary of Evreux, one of the chief actors in the Loudun affair. +By his advice, the Bishop of Evreux gave orders to disinter the body +of Picart, so that the devils might leave the convent when Picart +himself was taken away from the neighbourhood. Madeline was condemned, +without a hearing, to be disgraced, to have her body examined for the +marks of the Devil. They tore off her veil and gown, and made her the +wretched sport of a vile curiosity, that would have pierced her till +she bled again, in order to win the right of sending her to the stake. +Leaving to no one else the care of a scrutiny which was in itself a +torture, these virgins acting as matrons, ascertained if she was with +child or no, shaved all her body, and dug their needles into her +quivering flesh, to find out the insensible spots that betrayed the +mark of the Devil. At every dig they discovered signs of pain: if they +had not the luck to prove her a Witch, at any rate, they could revel +in her tears and cries. + + * * * * * + +But Sister Anne was not satisfied, until, on the mere word of her own +devil, Madeline, though acquitted by the results of this examination, +was condemned for the rest of her life to an _In pace_. It was said +that the convent would be quieted by her departure; but such was not +the case. The Devil was more violent than ever; some twenty nuns began +to cry out, to prophesy, to beat themselves. + +Such a sight drew thither a curious crowd from Rouen, and even from +Paris. Yvelin, a young Parisian surgeon, who had already seen the +farce at Loudun, came to see that of Louviers. He brought with him a +very clear-headed magistrate, the Commissioner of Taxes at Rouen. They +devoted unwearying attention to the matter, settled themselves at +Louviers, and carried on their researches for seventeen days. + +From the first day they saw into the plot. A conversation they had had +with the Penitentiary of Evreux on their entrance into the town, was +repeated back to them by Sister Anne's demon, as if it had been a +revelation. The scenic arrangements were very bewitching. The shades +of night, the torches, the flickering and smoking lights, produced +effects which had not been seen at Loudun. The rest of the process was +simple enough. One of the bewitched said that in a certain part of the +garden they would find a charm. They dug for it, and it was found. +Unluckily, Yvelin's friend, the sceptical magistrate, never budged +from the side of the leading actress, Sister Anne. At the very edge of +a hole they had just opened he grasped her hand, and on opening it, +found the charm, a bit of black thread, which she was about to throw +into the ground. + +The exorcisers, the penitentiary, priests, and Capuchins, about the +spot, were overwhelmed with confusion. The dauntless Yvelin, on his +own authority, began a scrutiny, and saw to the uttermost depth of the +affair. + +Among the fifty-two nuns, said he, there were six _possessed_, but +deserving of chastisement. Seventeen more were victims under a spell, +a pack of girls upset by the disease of the cloisters. He describes +it with great precision: the girls are regular but hysterical, blown +out with certain inward storms, lunatics mainly, and disordered in +mind. A nervous contagion has ruined them; and the first thing to do +is to keep them apart. + +He then, with the liveliness of Voltaire, examines the tokens by which +the priests were wont to recognize the supernatural character of the +bewitched. They foretel, he allows, but only what never happens. They +translate, indeed, but without understanding; as when, for instance, +they render "_ex parte virginis_," by "the departure of the Virgin." +They know Greek before the people of Louviers, but cannot speak it +before the doctors of Paris. They cut capers, take leaps of the +easiest kind, climb up the trunk of a tree which a child three years +old might climb. In short, the only thing they do that is really +dreadful and unnatural, is to use dirtier language than men would ever +do. + + * * * * * + +In tearing off the mask from these people, the surgeon rendered a +great service to humanity. For the matter was being pushed further; +other victims were about to be made. Besides the charms were found +some papers, ascribed to David or Picart, in which this and that +person were called witches, and marked out for death. Each one +shuddered lest his name should be found there. Little by little the +fear of the priesthood made its way among the people. + +The rotten age of Mazarin, the first days of the weak Anne of Austria, +were already come. Order and government were no more. "But one phrase +was left in the language: _The Queen is so good._" Her goodness gave +the clergy a chance of getting the upper hand. The power of the laity +entombed with Richelieu, bishops, priests, and monks, were about to +reign. The bold impiety of the magistrate and his friend Yvelin +imperilled so sweet a hope. Groans and wailings went forth to the Good +Queen, not from the victims, but from the knaves thus caught in the +midst of their offences. Up to the Court they went, weeping for the +outrage to their religion. + +Yvelin was not prepared for this stroke: he deemed himself firm at +Court, having for ten years borne the title of Surgeon to the Queen. +Before he returned from Louviers to Paris, the weakness of Anne of +Austria had been tempted into granting another commission named by his +opponents, consisting of an old fool in his dotage, one Diafoirus of +Rouen, and his nephew, both attached to the priesthood. These did not +fail to discover that the Louviers affair was supernatural, +transcending all art of man. + +Any other than Yvelin would have been discouraged. The Rouen +physicians treated with utter scorn this surgeon, this barber fellow, +this mere sawbones. The Court gave him no encouragement. Still, he +held on his way in a treatise which will live yet. He accepts this +battle of science against priestcraft, declaring, as Wyer did in the +sixteenth century, that "in all such matters the right judge is not +the priest but the man of science." With great difficulty he found +some one bold enough to print, but no one willing to sell his little +work. So in broad daylight the heroic young man set about distributing +it with his own hands. Placing himself on the Pont Neuf, the most +frequented spot in Paris, at the foot of Henry the Fourth's statue, he +gave out copies of his memoir to the passers by. At the end of it they +found a formal statement of the shameful fraud, how in the hand of the +female demons the magistrate had caught the unanswerable evidence of +their dishonour. + + * * * * * + +Return we to the wretched Madeline. Her enemy, the Penitentiary of +Evreux, by whose influence she had been searched with needles, carried +her off as his prey to the heart of the episcopal dungeons in that +town. Below an underground passage dipped a cave, below the cave a +cell, where the poor human creature lay buried in damps and darkness. +Reckoning upon her speedy death, her dread companions had not even the +kindness to give her a piece of linen for the dressing of her ulcer. +There, as she lay in her own filth, she suffered alike from pain and +want of cleanliness. The whole night long she was disturbed by the +running to and fro of ravenous rats, those terrors of every prison, +who were wont to nibble men's ears and noses. + +But all these horrors fell short of those which her tyrant, the +Penitentiary, dealt out to her himself. Day after day he would come +into the upper vault and speak to her through the mouth of her pit, +threatening her, commanding her, and making her, whether she would or +no, confess to this or that crime as having been wrought by others. At +length she ceased to eat. Fearing that she might die at once, he drew +her for a while out of her _In Pace_, and laid her in the upper vault. +Then, in his rage against Yvelin's memoir, he cast her back into her +sewer below. + +That glimpse of light, that short renewal and sudden death of hope, +gave the crowning impulse to her despair. Her wound was closing, so +that her strength was greater. She was seized with a deep and violent +thirst for death. She swallowed spiders, but instead of dying, only +brought them up again. Pounded glass she swallowed, but in vain. +Finding an old bit of sharp iron, she tried to cut her throat, but +could not. Then, as an easier way, she dug the iron into her belly. +For four hours she worked and bled, but without success. Even this +wound shortly began to close. To crown all, the life she hated so +returned to her stronger than before. Her heart's death was of no +avail. + +She became once more a woman; still, alas! an object of desire, of +temptation for her jailers, those brutish varlets of the bishopric, +who, notwithstanding the horror of the place, and the unhappy +creature's own sad and filthy plight, would come to make sport of +her, believing that they might do all their pleasure against a Witch. +But an angel succoured her, so she said. From men and rats alike she +defended herself. But against herself, herself she could not protect. +Her prison corrupted her mind. She dreamed of the Devil, besought him +to come and see her, to restore to her the shameful pleasures in which +she had wallowed at Louviers. He never deigned to come back. Once more +amidst this corruption of her senses, she fell back on her old desire +for death. One of the jailers had given her a drug to kill the rats. +She was just going to swallow it herself, when an angel--an angel, was +it, or a devil?--stayed her hand, reserving her for other crimes. + +Thenceforward--sunk into the lowest depths of vileness, become an +unspeakable cipher of cowardice and servility--she signed endless +lists of crimes which she had never committed. Was she worth the +trouble of burning? Many had given up that idea, but the ruthless +Penitentiary clung to it still. He offered money to a Wizard of +Evreux, then in prison, if he would bear such witness as might bring +about the death of Madeline. + +For the future, however, they could use her for other purposes--to +bear false witness, to become a tool for any slander. Whenever they +sought the ruin of any man, they had only to drag down to Louviers or +to Evreux this accursed ghost of a dead woman, living only to make +others die. In this way she was brought out to kill with her words a +poor man named Duval. What the Penitentiary dictated to her, she +repeated readily: when he told her by what marks she should know +Duval, whom she had never seen, she pointed him out and said she had +seen him at the Sabbath. Through her it fell out that he was burnt! + +She owned her dreadful crime, and shuddered to think what answer she +could make before God. She was fallen into such contempt that no one +now deigned to look after her. The doors stood wide open: sometimes +she had the keys herself. But where now should she go, object as she +was of so much dread? Thenceforth the world repelled her--cast her +out: the only world she had left was her dungeon. + +During the anarchy of Mazarin and his Good Lady the chief authority +remained with the Parliaments. That of Rouen, hitherto the friendliest +to the clergy, grew wroth at last at their arrogant way of examining, +ordering, and burning people. A mere decree of the Bishop had caused +Picart's body to be disinterred and thrown into the common sewer. And +now they were passing on to the trial of Boull, the curate, and +supposed abettor of Picart. Listening to the plaint of Picart's +family, the Parliament sentenced the Bishop of Evreux to replace him +at his own expense in his tomb at Louviers. They called up Boull, +undertook his trial themselves, and at the same time sent for the +wretched Madeline from Evreux to Rouen. + +People were afraid that Yvelin and the magistrate who had caught the +nuns in the very act of cheating, would be made to appear. Hieing away +to Paris, they found the knave Mazarin ready to protect their knavish +selves. The whole matter was appealed to the King's Council--an +indulgent court, without eyes or ears--whose care it was to bury, hush +up, bedarken everything connected with justice. + +Meanwhile, some honey-tongued priests had comforted Madeline in her +Rouen dungeon; they heard her confessions, and enjoined her, by way of +penance, to ask forgiveness of her persecutors, the nuns of Louviers. +Thenceforth, happen what might, Madeline could never more be brought +in evidence against those who had thus bound her fast. It was a +triumph indeed for the clergy, and the victory was sung by a knave of +an exorciser, the Capuchin Esprit de Bosroger, in his _Piety +Afflicted_, a farcical monument of stupidity, in which he accuses, +unawares, the very people he fancies himself defending. + +The Fronde, as I said before, was a revolution for honest ends. Fools +saw only its outer form--its laughable aspects; but at bottom it was a +serious business, a moral reaction. In August, 1647, with the first +breath of freedom, Parliament stepped forward and cut the knot. It +ordered, in the first place, the destruction of the Louviers Sodom; +the girls were to be dispersed and sent back to their kinsfolk. In the +next, it decreed that thenceforth the bishops of the province should, +four times a-year, send special confessors to the nunneries, to +ascertain that such foul abuses were not renewed. + +One comfort, however, the clergy were to receive. They were allowed to +burn the bones of Picart and the living body of Boull, who, after +making public confession in the cathedral, was drawn on a hurdle to +the Fish Market, and there, on the 21st August, 1647, devoured by the +flames. Madeline, or rather her corpse, remained in the prisons of +Rouen. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE DEVIL TRIUMPHS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. + + +The Fronde was a kind of Voltaire. The spirit of Voltaire, old as +France herself, but long restrained, burst forth in the political, and +anon in the religious, world. In vain did the Great King seek to +establish a solemn gravity. Beneath it laughter went on. + +Was there nought else, then, but laughter and jesting? Nay, it was the +Advent of Reason. By means of Kepler, of Galileo, Descartes, Newton, +there was now triumphantly enthroned the reasonable dogma of faith in +the unchangeable laws of nature. Miracle dared no longer show itself, +or, when it did dare, was hissed down. In other and better words, the +fantastic miracles of mere whim had vanished, and in their stead was +seen the mighty miracle of the universe--more regular, and therefore +more divine. + +The great rebellion decidedly won the day. You may see it working in +the bold forms of those earlier outbursts; in the irony of Galileo; in +the absolute doubt wherewith Descartes leads off his system. The +Middle Ages would have said, "'Tis the spirit of the Evil One." + +The victory, however, is not a negative one, but very affirmative and +surely based. The spirit of nature and the natural sciences, those +outlaws of an elder day, return in might irresistible. All idle +shadows are hunted out by the real, the substantial. + +They had said in their folly, "Great Pan is dead." Anon, observing +that he was yet alive, they had made him a god of evil: amid such a +chaos they might well be deceived. But, lo! he lives, and lives +harmonious, in the grand stability of laws that govern alike the star +and the deep-hidden mystery of life. + + * * * * * + +Of this period two things, by no means contradictory, may be averred: +the spirit of Satan conquers, while the reign of witchcraft is at an +end. + +All marvel-mongering, hellish or holy, is fallen very sick at last. +Wizards and theologians are powerless alike. They are become, as it +were, empirics, who pray in vain for some supernatural change, some +whim of Providence, to work the wonders which science asks of nature +and reason only. + +For all their zeal, the Jansenists of this century succeed only in +bringing forth a miracle very small and very ridiculous. Still less +lucky are the rich and powerful Jesuits, who cannot get a miracle done +at any price; who have to be satisfied with the visions of a hysteric +girl, Sister Mary Alacoque, of an exceedingly sanguine habit, with +eyes for nothing but blood. In view of so much impotence, magic and +witchcraft may find some solace for themselves. + +While the old faith in the supernatural was thus declining, priests +and witches shared a common fate. In the fears, the fancies of the +Middle Ages, these two were bound up together. Together they were +still to face the general laughter and disdain. When Molire made fun +of the Devil and his "seething cauldrons," the clergy were deeply +stirred, deeming that the belief in Paradise had fallen equally low. + +A government of laymen only, that of the great Colbert, who was long +the virtual King of France, could not conceal its scorn for such old +questions. It emptied the prisons of the wizards whom the Rouen +Parliament still crowded into them, and, in 1672, forbade the law +courts from entertaining any prosecutions for witchcraft. The +Parliament protested, and gave people to understand that by this +denial of sorcery many other things were put in peril. Any doubting of +these lower mysteries would cause many minds to waver from their +belief in mysteries of a higher sort. + + * * * * * + +The Sabbath disappears, but why? Because it exists everywhere. It +enters into the people's habits, becomes the practice of their daily +life. The Devil, the Witches, had long been reproached with loving +death more than life, with hating and hindering the generative powers +of nature. And now in the pious seventeenth century, when the Witch is +fast dying out, a love of barrenness, and a fear of being fruitful, +are found to be, in very truth, the one prevalent disease. + +If Satan ever read, he would have good cause for laughter as he read +the casuists who took him up where he left off. For there was one +difference at least between them. In times of terror Satan made +provision for the famished, took pity on the poor. But these fellows +have compassion only for the rich. With his vices, his luxury, his +court life, the rich man is still a needy miserable beggar. He comes +to confession with a humbly threatening air, in order to wrest from +his doctor permission to sin with a good conscience. Some day will be +told, by him who may have the courage to tell it, an astounding tale +of the cowardly things done, and the shameful tricks so basely +ventured by the casuist who wished to keep his penitent. From Navarro +to Escobar the strangest bargains were continually made at the wife's +expense, and some little wrangling went on after that. But all this +would not do. The casuist was conquered, was altogether a coward. From +Zoccoli to Liguori--1670 to 1770--he gave up banning Nature. + +The Devil, so it was said, showed two countenances at the Sabbath: the +one in front seemed threatening, the other behind was farcical. Now +that he has nothing to do with it, he has generously given the latter +to the casuist. + +It must have amused him to see his trusty friends settled among honest +folk, in the serious households swayed by the Church. The worldling +who bettered himself by that great resource of the day, lucrative +adultery, laughed at prudence, and boldly followed his natural bent. +Pious families, on the other hand, followed nothing but their Jesuits. +In order to preserve, to concentrate their property, to leave each one +wealthy heir, they entered on the crooked ways of the new +spiritualism. Buried in a mysterious gloom, losing at the faldstool +all heed and knowledge of themselves, the proudest of them followed +the lesson taught by Molinos: "In this world we live to suffer. But in +time that suffering is soothed and lulled to sleep by a habit of pious +indifference. We thus attain to a negation. Death do you say? Not +altogether. Without mingling in the world, or heeding its voices, we +get thereof an echo dim and soft. It is like a windfall of Divine +Grace, so mild and searching; never more so than in moments of +self-abasement, when the will is wholly obscured." + +Exquisite depths of feeling! Alas, poor Satan! how art thou left +behind! Bend low, acknowledge, and admire thy children! + + * * * * * + +The physicians who, having sprung from the popular empiricism which +men called witchcraft, were far more truly his lawful children, were +too forgetful of him who had left them his highest patrimony, as being +his favoured heirs. They were ungrateful to the Witch, who laid the +way for themselves. Nay, they went further than that. On this fallen +king, their father and creator, they dealt some hard strokes with the +whip. "_Thou, too, my son?_" They gave the jesters cruel weapons +against him. + +Even in the sixteenth century there were some to scoff at the spirit +who through all time, from the days of the Sibyl to those of the +Witch, had filled and troubled the woman. They maintained that he was +neither God nor Devil, but only "the Prince of the Air," as the Middle +Ages called him. Satan was nothing but a disease! + +_Possession_ to them was only a result of the prison-like, sedentary, +dry, unyielding life of the cloister. As for the 6500 devils in +Gauffridi's little Madeline, and the hosts that fought in the bodies +of maddened nuns at Loudun and Louviers, these doctors called them +physical storms. "If olus can shake the earth," said Yvelin, "why not +also the body of a girl?" La Cadire's surgeon, of whom more anon, had +the coolness to say, "it was nothing more than a choking of the womb." + +Wonderful descent! Routed by the simplest remedies, by exorcisms after +Molire, the terror of the Middle Ages would flee away and vanish +utterly! + +This is too sweeping a reduction of the question. Satan was more than +that. The doctors saw neither the height nor the depth of him; neither +his grand revolt in the form of science, nor that strange mixture of +impurity and pious intrigue, that union of Tartuffe and Priapus, which +he brought to pass about the year 1700. + +People fancy they know something about the eighteenth century, and +yet have never seen one of its most essential features. The greater +its outward civilization, the clearer and fuller the light that bathed +its uppermost layers, so much the more hermetically sealed lay all +those widespread lower realms, of priests and monks, and women +credulous, sickly, prone to believe whatever they heard or saw. In the +years before Cagliostro, Mesmer, and the magnetisers, who appeared +towards the close of the century, a good many priests still worked +away at the old dead witchcraft. They talked of nothing but +enchantments, spread the fear of them abroad, and undertook to hunt +out the devils with their shameful exorcisms. Many set up for wizards, +well knowing how little risk they ran, now that people were no longer +burnt. They knew they were sheltered by the milder spirit of their +age, by the tolerant teachings of their foes the philosophers, by the +levity of the great jesters, who thought that anything could be +extinguished with a laugh. Now it was just because people laughed, +that these gloomy plot-spinners went their way without much fear. The +new spirit, that of the Regent namely, was sceptical and easy-natured. +It shone forth in the _Persian Letters_, it shone forth everywhere in +the all-powerful journalist who filled that century, Voltaire. At any +shedding of human blood his whole heart rises indignant. All other +matters only make him laugh. Little by little, the maxim of the +worldly public seems to be, "Punish nothing, and laugh at all." + +This tolerant spirit suffered Cardinal Tencin to appear in public as +his sister's husband. This, too, it was that ensured to the masters of +convents the peaceful possession of their nuns, who were even allowed +to make declarations of pregnancy, to register the births of their +children.[106] This tolerant temper made excuses for Father +Apollinaire, when he was caught in a shameful piece of exorcism. That +worthy Jesuit, Cauvrigny, idol of the provincial convents, paid for +his adventures only by a recall to Paris, in other words--by fresh +preferment. + + [106] The noble Chapter of Canons of Pignan were sixteen in + number. In one year the provost received from the nuns + sixteen declarations of pregnancy. (See MS. History of Besse, + by M. Renoux.) One good fruit of this publicity was the + decrease of infanticide among the religious orders. At the + price of a little shame, the nuns let their children live, + and doubtless became good mothers. Those of Pignan put their + babes out to nurse with the neighbouring peasants, who + brought them up as their own. + +Such also was the punishment awarded the famous Jesuit, Girard, who +was loaded with honours when he should have got the rope. He died in +the sweetest savour of holiness. His was the most curious affair of +that century. It enables us to probe the peculiar methods of that day, +to realize the coarse jumble of jarring machinery which was then at +work. As a thing of course, it was preluded by the dangerous suavities +of the Song of Songs. It was carried on by Mary Alacoque, with a +marriage of Bleeding Hearts spiced with the morbid blandishments of +Molinos. To these Girard added the whisperings of Satan and the +terrors of enchantment. He was at once the Devil and the Devil's +exorciser. At last, horrible to say, instead of getting justice done +to her, the unhappy girl whom he sacrificed with so much cruelty, was +persecuted to death. She disappeared, shut up perhaps by a _lettre de +cachet_, and buried alive in her tomb. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +FATHER GIRARD AND LA CADIERE: 1730. + + +The Jesuits were unlucky. Powerful at Versailles, where they ruled the +Court, they had not the slightest credit with Heaven. Not one tiny +miracle could they do. The Jansenists overflowed, at any rate, with +touching stories of miracles done. Untold numbers of sick, infirm, +halt, and paralytic obtained a momentary cure at the tomb of the +Deacon Pris. Crushed by a terrible succession of plagues, from the +time of the Great King to the Regency, when so many were reduced to +beggary, these unfortunate people went to entreat a poor, good fellow, +a virtuous imbecile, a saint in spite of his absurdities, to make them +whole. And what need, after all, of laughter? His life is far more +touching than ridiculous. We are not to be surprised if these good +folk, in the emotion of seeing their benefactor's tomb, suddenly +forgot their own sufferings. The cure did not last, but what matter? A +miracle indeed had taken place, a miracle of devotion, of +lovingkindness, of gratitude. Latterly, with all this some knavery +began to mingle, but at that time, in 1728, these wonderful popular +scenes were very pure. + +The Jesuits would have given anything for the least of the miracles +they denied. For well-nigh fifty years they worked away, embellishing +with fables and anecdotes their Legend of the Sacred Heart, the story +of Mary Alacoque. For twenty-five or thirty years they had been trying +to convince the world that their helpmate, James II. of England, not +content with healing the king's evil (in his character of King of +France), amused himself after his death in making the dumb to speak, +the lame to walk straight, and the squint-eyed to see properly. They +who were cured squinted worse than ever. As for the dumb, it so +chanced that she who played this part was a manifest rogue, caught in +the very act of stealing. She roamed the provinces: at every chapel of +any renowned saint she was healed by a miracle and received alms, and +then began her work again elsewhere. + +For getting wonders wrought the South was a better country. There +might be found a plenty of nervous women, easy to excite, the very +ones to make into somnambulists, subjects of miracle, bearers of +mystic marks, and so forth. + +At Marseilles the Jesuits had on their side a bishop, Belzunce, a +bold, hearty sort of man, renowned in the memorable plague,[107] but +credulous and narrow-minded withal; under whose countenance many a +bold venture might be made. Beside him they had placed a Jesuit of +Franche-Comt, not wanting in mind, whose austere outside did not +prevent his preaching pleasantly, in an ornate and rather worldly +style, such as the ladies loved. A true Jesuit, he made his way by two +different methods, now by feminine intrigue, anon by his holy +utterances. Girard had on his side neither years nor figure; he was a +man of forty-seven, tall, withered, weak-looking, of dirty aspect, and +given to spitting without end.[108] He had long been a tutor, even +till he was thirty-seven; and he preserved some of his college tastes. +For the last ten years, namely, ever since the great plague, he had +been confessor to the nuns. With them he had fared well, winning over +them a high degree of power by enforcing a method seemingly quite at +variance with the Provencial temperament, by teaching the doctrine and +the discipline of a mystic death, of absolute passiveness, of entire +forgetfulness of self. The dreadful crisis through which they had just +passed had deadened their spirits, and weakened hearts already +unmanned by a kind of morbid languor. Under Girard's leading, the +Carmelites of Marseilles carried their mysticism to great lengths; and +first among them was Sister Remusat, who passed for a saint. + + [107] The great plague of 1720, which carried off 60,000 + people about Marseilles. Belzunce is the "Marseilles' good + bishop" of Pope's line--TRANS. + + [108] See "The Proceedings in the Affair of Father Girard and + La Cadire," Aix, 1733. + +In spite, or perhaps by reason, of this success, the Jesuits took +Girard away from Marseilles: they wanted to employ him in raising +anew their house at Toulon. Colbert's splendid institution, the +Seminary for Naval Chaplains, had been entrusted to the Jesuits, with +the view of cleansing the young chaplains from the influence of the +Lazarists, who ruled them almost everywhere. But the two Jesuits +placed in charge were men of small capacity. One was a fool; the +other, Sabatier, remarkable, in spite of his age, for heat of temper. +With all the insolence of our old navy he never kept himself under the +least control. In Toulon he was reproached, not for having a mistress, +nor yet a married woman, but for intriguing in a way so insolent and +outrageous as to drive the husband wild. He sought to keep the husband +specially alive to his own shame, to make him wince with every kind of +pang. Matters were pushed so far that at last the husband died +outright. + +Still greater was the scandal caused by the Jesuits' rivals, the +Observantines, who, having spiritual charge of a sisterhood at +Ollioules, made mistresses openly of the nuns, and, not content with +this, dared even to seduce the little boarders. One Aubany, the Father +Guardian, violated a girl of thirteen; when her parents pursued him, +he found shelter at Marseilles. + +As Director of the Seminary for Chaplains, Girard began, through his +seeming sternness and his real dexterity, to win for the Jesuits an +ascendant over monks thus compromised, and over parish-priests of very +vulgar manners and scanty learning. + +In those Southern regions, where the men are abrupt, not seldom +uncouth of speech and appearance, the women have a lively relish for +the gentle gravity of the men of the North: they feel thankful to them +for speaking a language at once aristocratic, official, and French. + +When Girard reached Toulon, he must already have gained full knowledge +of the ground before him. Already had he won over a certain Guiol, who +sometimes came to Marseilles, where she had a daughter, a Carmelite +nun. This Guiol, wife of a small carpenter, threw herself entirely +into his hands, even more so than he wanted. She was of ripe age, +extremely vehement for a woman of forty-seven, depraved and ready for +anything, ready to do him service of whatever kind, no matter what he +might do or be, whether he were a sinner or a saint. + +This Guiol, besides her Carmelite daughter at Marseilles, had another, +a lay-sister to the Ursulines of Toulon. The Ursulines, an order of +teaching nuns, formed everywhere a kind of centre; their parlour, the +resort of mothers, being a half-way stage between the cloister and the +world. At their house, and doubtless through their means, Girard saw +the ladies of the town, among them one of forty years, a spinster, +Mdlle. Gravier, daughter of an old contractor for the royal works at +the Arsenal. This lady had a shadow who never left her, her cousin La +Reboul, daughter of a skipper and sole heiress to herself; a woman, +too, who really meant to succeed her, though very nearly her own age, +being five-and-thirty. Around these gradually grew a small roomful of +Girard's admirers, who became his regular penitents. Among them were +sometimes introduced a few young girls, such as La Cadire, a +tradesman's daughter and herself a sempstress, La Laugier, and La +Batarelle, the daughter of a waterman. They had godly readings +together, and now and then small suppers. But they were specially +interested in certain letters which recounted the miracles and +ecstacies of Sister Remusat, who was still alive; her death occurring +in February, 1730. What a glorious thing for Father Girard, who had +led her to a pitch so lofty! They read, they wept, they shouted with +admiration. If they were not ecstatic yet, they were not far from +being so. Already, to please her kinswoman, would La Reboul throw +herself at times into a strange plight by holding her breath and +pinching her nose. + + * * * * * + +Among these girls and women the least frivolous certainly was +Catherine Cadire, a delicate, sickly girl of seventeen, taken up +wholly with devotion and charity, of a mournful countenance, which +seemed to say that, young as she was, she had felt more keenly than +anyone else the great misfortunes of the time, those, namely, of +Provence and Toulon. This is easily explained. She was born during the +frightful famine of 1709; and just as the child was growing into a +maiden, she witnessed the fearful scenes of the great plague. Those +two events seemed to have left their mark upon her, to have taken her +out of the present into a life beyond. + +This sad flower belonged wholly to Toulon, to the Toulon of that day. +To understand her better we must remember what that town is and what +it was. + +Toulon is a thoroughfare, a landing-place, the entrance of an immense +harbour and a huge arsenal. The sense of this carries the traveller +away, and prevents his seeing Toulon itself. There is a town however +there, indeed an ancient city. It contains two different sets of +people, the stranger functionaries, and the genuine Toulonnese, who +are far from friendly to the former, regarding them with envy, and +often roused to rebellion by the swaggering of the naval officers. All +these differences were concentred in the gloomy streets of a town in +those days choked up within its narrow girdle of fortifications. The +most peculiar feature about this small dark town is, that it lies +exactly between two broad seas of light, between the marvellous mirror +of its roadstead and its glorious amphitheatre of mountains, +baldheaded, of a dazzling grey, that blinds you in the noonday sun. +All the gloomier look the streets themselves. Such as do not lead +straight to the harbour and draw some light therefrom, are plunged at +all hours in deep gloom. Filthy byeways, and small tradesmen with +shops ill-furnished, invisible to anyone coming for the day, such is +the general aspect of the place. The interior forms a maze of passages +in which you may find plenty of churches, and old convents now turned +into barracks. Copious kennels, laden and foul with sewage water, run +down in torrents. The air is almost stagnant, and in so dry a climate +you are surprised at seeing so much moisture. + +In front of the new theatre a passage called La Rue de l'Hpital leads +from the narrow Rue Royale into the narrow Rue des Cannoniers. It +might almost be called a blind alley. The sun, however, just looks +down upon it at noon, but, finding the place so dismal, passes on +forthwith, and leaves the passage to its wonted darkness. + +Among these gloomy dwellings the smallest was that of the Sister +Cadire, a retail dealer, or huckster. There was no entrance but by +the shop, and only one room on each floor. The Cadires were honest +pious folk, and Madame Cadire the mirror of excellence itself. These +good people were not altogether poor. Besides their small dwelling in +the town, they too, like most of their fellow-townsmen, had a +country-house of their own. This latter is, commonly, a mere hut, a +little stony plot of ground yielding a little wine. In the days of its +naval greatness, under Colbert and his son, the wondrous bustle in the +harbour brought some profit to the town. French money flowed in. The +many great lords who passed that way brought their households along +with them, an army of wasteful domestics, who left a good many things +behind them. All this came to a sudden end. The artificial movement +stopped short: even the workmen at the arsenal could no longer get +their wages; shattered vessels were left unrepaired; and at last the +timbers themselves were sold. + +Toulon was keenly sensible of the rebound. At the siege of 1707 it +seemed as if dead. What, then, was it in the dreadful year 1709, the +71st of Louis XIV., when every plague at once, a hard winter, a +famine, and an epidemic, seemed bent on utterly destroying France? The +very trees of Provence were not spared. All traffic came to an end. +The roads were covered with starving beggars. Begirt with bandits who +stopped up every outlet, Toulon quaked for fear. + +To crown all, Madame Cadire, in this year of sorrow, was with child. +Three boys she had borne already. The eldest stayed in the shop to +help his father. The second was with the Friar Preachers, and destined +to become a Dominican, or a Jacobin as they were then called. The +third was studying in the Jesuit seminary as a priest to be. The +wedded couple wanted a daughter; Madame prayed to Heaven for a saint. +She spent her nine months in prayer, fasting, or eating nought but rye +bread. She had a daughter, namely Catherine. The babe was very +delicate and, like her brothers, unhealthy. The dampness of an +ill-aired dwelling, and the poor nourishment gained from a mother so +thrifty and more than temperate, had something to do with this. The +brothers had scrofulous glands, and in her earlier years the little +thing suffered from the same cause. Without being altogether ill, she +had all the suffering sweetness of a sickly child. She grew up without +growing stronger. At an age when other children have all the strength +and gladness of upswelling life in them, she was already saying, "I +have not long to live." + +She took the small-pox, which left her rather marked. I know not if +she was handsome, but it is clear that she was very winning, with all +the charming contrasts, the twofold nature of the maidens of Provence. +Lively and pensive, gay and sad, by turns, she was a good little +worshipper, but given to harmless pranks withal. Between the long +church services, if she went into the country with girls of her own +age, she made no fuss about doing as they did, but would sing and +dance away and flourish her tambourine. But such days were few. Most +times her chief delight was to climb up to the top of the house, to +bring herself nearer heaven, to obtain a glimpse of daylight, to look +out, perhaps, on some small strip of sea, or some pointed peak in the +vast wilderness of hills. Thenceforth to her eyes they were serious +still, but less unkindly than before, less bald and leafless, in a +garment thinly strewn with arbutus and larch. + +This dead town of Toulon numbered 26,000 inhabitants when the plague +began. It was a huge throng cooped up in one spot. But from this +centre let us take away a girdle of great convents with their backs +upon the ramparts, convents of Minorites, Ursulines, Visitandines, +Bernardines, Oratorians, Jesuits, Capuchins, Recollects; those of the +Refuge, the Good Shepherd, and, midmost of all, the enormous convent +of Dominicans. Add to these the parish churches, parsonages, bishop's +palace, and it seems that the clergy filled up the place, while the +people had no room at all, to speak of.[109] + + [109] See the work by M. d'Antrechaus, and the excellent + treatise by M. Gustave Lambert. + +On a centre so closely thronged, we may guess how savagely the plague +would fasten. Toulon's kind heart was also to prove her bane. She +received with generous warmth some fugitives from Marseilles. These +are just as likely to have brought the plague with them, as certain +bales of wool to which was traced the first appearance of that +scourge. The chief men of the place were about to fly, to scatter +themselves over the country. But the First Consul, M. d'Antrechaus, a +man of heroic soul, withheld them, saying, with a stern air, "And what +will the people do, sirs, in this impoverished town, if the rich folk +carry their purses away?" So he held them back, and compelled all +persons to stay where they were. Now the horrors of Marseilles had +been ascribed to the mutual intercourse of its inhabitants. +D'Antrechaus, however, tried a system entirely the reverse, tried to +isolate the people of Toulon, by shutting them up in their houses. +Two huge hospitals were established, in the roadstead and in the +hills. All who did not come to these, had to keep at home on pain of +death. For seven long months D'Antrechaus carried out a wager, which +would have been held impossible, the keeping, namely, and feeding in +their own houses, of a people numbering 26,000 souls. All that time +Toulon was one vast tomb. No one stirred save in the morning, to deal +out bread from door to door, and then to carry off the dead. Most of +the doctors perished, and the magistrates all but D'Antrechaus. The +gravediggers also perished, and their places were filled by condemned +deserters, who went to work with brutal and headlong violence. Bodies +were thrown into the tumbril, head downwards, from the fourth storey. +One mother, having just lost her little girl, shrunk from seeing her +poor wee body thus hurled below, and by dint of bribing, managed to +get it lowered the proper way. As they were bearing it off, the child +came to; it lived still. They took her up again, and she survived, to +become the grandmother of the learned M. Brun, who wrote an excellent +history of the port. + +Poor little Cadire was exactly the same age as this girl who died and +lived again, being twelve years old, an age for her sex so full of +danger. In the general closing of the churches, in the putting down of +all holidays, and chiefly of Christmas, wont to be so merry a season +at Toulon, the child's fancy saw the end of all things. It seems as +though she never quite shook off that fancy. Toulon never raised her +head again. She retained her desert-like air. Everything was in ruins, +everyone in mourning; widowers, orphans, desperate beings were +everywhere seen. In the midst, a mighty shadow, moved D'Antrechaus +himself; he had seen all about him perish, his sons, his brothers, and +his colleagues; and was now so gloriously ruined, that he was fain to +look to his neighbours for his daily meals. The poor quarrelled among +themselves for the honour of feeding him. + +The young girl told her mother that she would never more wear any of +her smarter clothes, and she must, therefore, sell them. She would do +nothing but wait upon the sick, and she was always dragging her to the +hospital at the end of the street. A little neighbour-girl of +fourteen, Laugier by name, who had lost her father, was living with +her mother in great wretchedness. Catherine was continually going to +them with food and clothes, and anything she could get for them. She +begged her parents to defray the cost of apprenticing Laugier to a +dressmaker; and such was her sway over them that they could not refuse +to incur so heavy an outlay. Her piety, her many little charms of +soul, rendered her all-powerful. She was impassioned in her charity, +giving not alms only, but love as well. She longed to make Laugier +perfect, rejoiced to have her by her side, and often gave her half her +bed. The pair had been admitted among the _Daughters of Saint +Theresa_, the third order established by the Carmelites. Mdlle. +Cadire was their model nun, and seemed at thirteen a Carmelite +complete. Already she devoured some books of mysticism borrowed from a +Visitandine. In marked contrast with herself seemed Laugier, now a +girl of fifteen, who would do nothing but eat and look handsome. So +indeed she was, and on that account had been made sextoness to the +chapel of Saint Theresa. This led her into great familiarities with +the priests, and so, when her conduct called for her expulsion from +the congregation, another authority, the vicar-general, flew into such +a rage as to declare that, if she were expelled, the chapel itself +would be interdicted. + +Both these girls had the temperament of their country, suffering from +great excitement of the nerves, and from what was called flatulence of +the womb. But in each the result was entirely different; being very +carnal in the case of Laugier, who was gluttonous, lazy, passionate; +but wholly cerebral with regard to the pure and gentle Catherine, who +owing to her ailments or to a lively imagination that took everything +up into itself, had no ideas concerning sex. "At twenty she was like a +child of seven." For nothing cared she but praying and giving of alms; +she had no wish at all to marry. At the very word "marriage," she +would fall a-weeping, as if she had been asked to abandon God. + +They had lent her the life of her patroness, Catherine of Genoa, and +she had bought for herself _The Castle of the Soul_, by St. Theresa. +Few confessors could follow her in these mystic flights. They who +spoke clumsily of such things gave her pain. She could not keep either +her mother's confessor, the cathedral-priest, or another, a Carmelite, +or even the old Jesuit Sabatier. At sixteen she found a priest of +Saint Louis, a highly spiritual person. She spent days in church, to +such a degree that her mother, by this time a widow and often in want +of her, had to punish her, for all her own piety, on her return home. +It was not the girl's fault, however: during her ecstasies she quite +forgot herself. So great a saint was she accounted by the girls of her +own age, that sometimes at mass they seemed to see the Host drawn on +by the moving power of her love, until it flew up and placed itself of +its own accord in her mouth. + +Her two young brothers differed from each other in their feelings +towards Girard. The elder, who lived with the Friar Preachers, shared +the natural dislike of all Dominicans for the Jesuit. The other, who +was studying with the Jesuits in order to become a priest, regarded +Girard as a great man, a very saint, a man to honour as a hero. Of +this younger brother, sickly like herself, Catherine was very fond. +His ceaseless talking about Girard was sure to do its work upon her. +One day she met the father in the street. He looked so grave, but so +good and mild withal, that a voice within her said, "Behold the man to +whose guidance thou art given!" The next Saturday, when she came to +confess to him, he said that he had been expecting her. In her amazed +emotion she never dreamed that her brother might have given him +warning, but fancied that the mysterious voice had spoken to him also, +and that they two were sharing the heavenly communion of warnings from +the world above. + +Six months of summer passed away, and yet Girard, who confessed her +every Saturday, had taken no step towards her. The scandal about old +Sabatier had set him on his guard. His own prudence would have held +him to an attachment of a darker kind for such a one as the Guiol, who +was certainly very mature, but also ardent and a devil incarnate. + +It was Cadire who made the first advances towards him, innocent as +they were. Her brother, the giddy Jacobin, had taken it into his head +to lend a lady and circulate through the town a satire called _The +Morality of the Jesuits_. The latter were soon apprised of this. +Sabatier swore that he would write to the Court for a sealed order +(lettre-de-cachet) to shut up the Jacobin. In her trouble and alarm, +his sister, with tears in her eyes, went to beseech Father Girard for +pity's sake to interfere. On her coming again to him a little later, +he said, "Make yourself easy; your brother has nothing to fear; I have +settled the matter for him." She was quite overcome. Girard saw his +advantage. A man of his influence, a friend of the King, a friend of +Heaven as well, after such proof of goodness as he had just been +giving, would surely have the very strongest sway over so young a +heart! He made the venture, and in her own uncertain language said to +her, "Put yourself in my hands; yield yourself up to me altogether." +Without a blush she answered, in the fulness of her angelic purity, +"Yes;" meaning nought else than to have him for her sole director. + +What were his plans concerning her? Would he make her a mistress or +the tool of his charlatanry? Girard doubtless swayed to and fro, but +he leant, I think, most towards the latter idea. He had to make his +choice, might manage to seek out pleasures free from risk. But Mdlle. +Cadire was under a pious mother. She lived with her family, a married +brother and the two churchmen, in a very confined house, whose only +entrance lay through the shop of the elder brother. She went no +whither except to church. With all her simplicity she knew +instinctively what things were impure, what houses dangerous. The +Jesuit penitents were fond of meeting together at the top of a house, +to eat, and play the fool, and cry out, in their Provencial tongue, +"Vivent les _Jesuitons_!" A neighbour, disturbed by their noise, went +and found them lying on their faces, singing and eating fritters, all +paid for, it was said, out of the alms-money. Cadire was also +invited, but taking a disgust to the thing she never went a second +time. + +She was assailable only through her soul. And it was only her soul +that Girard seemed to desire. That she should accept those lessons of +passive faith which he had taught at Marseilles, this apparently was +all his aim. Hoping that example would do more for him than precept, +he charged his tool Guiol to escort the young saint to Marseilles, +where lived the friend of Cadire's childhood, a Carmelite nun, a +daughter of Guiol's. The artful woman sought to win her trust by +pretending that she, too, was sometimes ecstatic. She crammed her with +absurd stories. She told her, for instance, that on finding a cask of +wine spoilt in her cellar, she began to pray, and immediately the wine +became good. Another time she felt herself pierced by a crown of +thorns, but the angels had comforted her by serving up a good dinner, +of which she partook with Father Girard. + +Cadire gained her mother's leave to go with this worthy Guiol to +Marseilles, and Madame Cadire paid her expenses. It was now the most +scorching month--that of August, 1729--in a scorching climate, when +the country was all dried up, and the eye could see nothing but a +rugged mirror of rocks and flintstone. The weak, parched brain of a +sick girl suffering from the fatigues of travel, was all the more +easily impressed by the dismal air of a nunnery of the dead. The true +type of this class was the Sister Remusat, already a corpse to outward +seeming, and soon to be really dead. Cadire was moved to admire so +lofty a piece of perfection. Her treacherous companion allured her +with the proud conceit of being such another and filling her place +anon. + +During this short trip of hers, Girard, who remained amid the stifling +heats of Toulon, had met with a dismal fall. He would often go to the +girl Laugier, who believed herself to be ecstatic, and "comfort" her +to such good purpose that he got her presently with child. When Mdlle. +Cadire came back in the highest ecstasy, as if like to soar away, he +for his part was become so carnal, so given up to pleasure, that he +"let fall on her ears a whisper of love." Thereat she took fire, but +all, as anyone may see, in her own pure, saintly, generous way; as +eager to keep him from falling, as devoting herself even to die for +his sake. + +One of her saintly gifts was her power of seeing into the depths of +men's hearts. She had sometimes chanced to learn the secret life and +morals of her confessors, to tell them of their faults; and this, in +their fear and amazement, many of them had borne with great humility. +One day this summer, on seeing Guiol come into her room, she suddenly +said, "Wicked woman! what have you been doing?" + +"And she was right," said Guiol herself, at a later period; "for I had +just been doing an evil deed." Perhaps she had just been rendering +Laugier the same midwife's service which next year she wished to +render Batarelle. + +Very likely, indeed, Laugier had entrusted to Catherine, at whose +house she often slept, the secret of her good fortune, the love, the +fatherly caresses of her saint. It was a hard and stormy trial for +Catherine's spirits. On the one side, she had learnt by heart +Girard's maxim, that whatever a saint may do is holy. But on the other +hand, her native honesty and the whole course of her education +compelled her to believe that over-fondness for the creature was ever +a mortal sin. This woeful tossing between two different doctrines +quite finished the poor girl, brought on within her dreadful storms, +until at last she fancied herself possessed with a devil. + +And here her goodness of heart was made manifest. Without humbling +Girard, she told him she had a vision of a soul tormented with impure +thoughts and deadly sin; that she felt the need of rescuing that soul, +by offering the Devil victim for victim, by agreeing to yield herself +into his keeping in Girard's stead. He never forbade her, but gave her +leave to be possessed for one year only. + +Like the rest of the town, she had heard of the scandalous loves of +Father Sabatier--an insolent passionate man, with none of Girard's +prudence. The scorn which the Jesuits--to her mind, such pillars of +the Church--were sure to incur, had not escaped her notice. She said +one day to Girard, "I had a vision of a gloomy sea, with a vessel full +of souls tossed by a storm of unclean thoughts. On this vessel were +two Jesuits. Said I to the Redeemer, whom I saw in heaven, 'Lord, save +them, and let me drown! The whole of their shipwreck do I take upon +myself,' And God, in His mercy, granted my prayer." + +All through the trial, and when Girard, become her foe, was aiming at +her death, she never once recurred to this subject. These two +parables, so clear in meaning, she never explained. She was too +high-minded to say a word about them. She had doomed herself to very +damnation. Some will say that in her pride she deemed herself so +deadened and impassive as to defy the impurity with which the Demon +troubled a man of God. But it is quite clear that she had no accurate +knowledge of sensual things, foreseeing nought in such a mystery save +pains and torments of the Devil. Girard was very cold, and quite +unworthy of all this sacrifice. Instead of being moved to compassion, +he sported with her credulity through a vile deceit. Into her casket +he slipped a paper, in which God declared that, for her sake, He would +indeed save the vessel. But he took care not to leave so absurd a +document there: she would have read it again and again until she came +to perceive how spurious it was. The angel who brought the paper +carried it off the next day. + +With the same coarseness of feeling Girard lightly allowed her, all +unsettled and incapable of praying as she plainly was, to communicate +as much as she pleased in different churches every day. This only made +her worse. Filled already with the Demon, she harboured the two foes +in one place. With equal power they fought within her against each +other. She thought she would burst asunder. She would fall into a +dead faint, and so remain for several hours. By December she could +not move even from her bed. + +Girard had now but too good a plea for seeing her. He was prudent +enough to let himself be led by the younger brother at least as far as +her door. The sick girl's room was at the top of the house. Her mother +stayed discreetly in the shop. He was left alone as long as he +pleased, and if he chose could turn the key. At this time she was very +ill. He handled her as a child, drawing her forward a little to the +front of the bed, holding her head, and kissing her in a fatherly way. + +She was very pure, but very sensitive. A slight touch, that no one +else would have remarked, deprived her of her senses: this Girard +found out for himself, and the knowledge of it possessed him with evil +thoughts. He threw her at will into this trance,[110] and she, in her +thorough trust in him, never thought of trying to prevent it, feeling +only somewhat troubled and ashamed at causing such a man to waste upon +her so much of his precious time. His visits were very long. It was +easy to foresee what would happen at last. Ill as she was, the poor +girl inspired Girard with a passion none the less wild and +uncontrollable. One freedom led to another, and her plaintive +remonstrances were met with scornful replies. "I am your master--your +god. You must bear all for obedience sake." At length, about +Christmas-time, the last barrier of reserve was broken down; and the +poor girl awoke from her trance to utter a wail which moved even him +to pity. + + [110] A case of mesmerism applied to a very susceptible + patient.--TRANS. + +An issue which she but dimly realized, Girard, as better enlightened, +viewed with growing alarm. Signs of what was coming began to show +themselves in her bodily health. To crown the entanglement, Laugier +also found herself with child. Those religious meetings, those suppers +watered with the light wine of the country, led to a natural raising +of the spirits of a race so excitable, and the trance that followed +spread from one to another. With the more artful all this was mere +sham; but with the sanguine, vehement Laugier the trance was genuine +enough. In her own little room she had real fits of raving and +swooning, especially when Girard came in. A little later than Cadire +she, too became fruitful. + +The danger was great. The girls were neither in a desert nor in the +heart of a convent, but rather, as one might say, in the open street: +Laugier in the midst of prying neighbours, Cadire in her own family. +The latter's brother, the Jacobin, began to take Girard's long visits +amiss. One day when Girard came, he ventured to stay beside her as +though to watch over her safety. Girard boldly turned him out of the +room, and the mother angrily drove her son from the house. + +This was very like to bring on an explosion. Of course, the young +man, swelling with rage at this hard usage, at this expulsion from his +home, would cry aloud to the Preaching Friars, who in their turn would +seize so fair an opening, to go about repeating the story and stirring +up the whole town against the Jesuit. The latter, however, resolved to +meet them with a strangely daring move, to save himself by a crime. +The libertine became a scoundrel. + +He knew his victim, had seen the scrofulous traces of her childhood, +traces healed up but still looking different from common scars. Some +of these were on her feet, others a little below her bosom. He formed +a devilish plan of renewing the wounds and passing them off as +"_stigmata_," like those procured from heaven by St. Francis and other +saints, who sought after the closest conformity with their pattern, +the crucified Redeemer, even to bearing on themselves the marks of the +nails and the spear-wound in the side. The Jesuits were distressed at +having nought to show against the miracles of the Jansenists. Girard +felt sure of pleasing them by an unlooked-for miracle. He could not +but receive the support of his own order, of their house at Toulon. +One of them, old Sabatier, was ready to believe anything: he had of +yore been Cadire's confessor, and this affair would bring him into +credit. Another of these was Father Grignet, a pious old dotard, who +would see whatever they pleased. If the Carmelites or any others were +minded to have their doubts, they might be taught, by warnings from a +high quarter, to consult their safety by keeping silence. Even the +Jacobin Cadire, hitherto a stern and jealous foe, might find his +account in turning round and believing in a tale which made his family +illustrious and himself the brother of a saint. + +"But," some will say, "did not the thing come naturally? We have +instances numberless, and well-attested, of persons really marked with +the sacred wounds." + +The reverse is more likely. When she was aware of the new wounds, she +felt ashamed and distressed with the fear of displeasing Girard by +this return of her childish ailments; for such she deemed the sores +which he had opened afresh while she lay unconscious in the trance. So +she sped away to a neighbour, one Madame Truc, who dabbled in physic, +and of her she bought, as if for her youngest brother, an ointment to +burn away the sores. + +She would have thought herself guilty of a great sin, if she had not +told everything to Girard. So, however fearful she might be of +displeasing and disgusting him, she spoke of this matter also. Looking +at the wounds, he began playing his comedy, rebuked her attempt to +heal them, and thus set herself against God. They were the marks, he +said, of Heaven. Falling on his knees, he kissed the wounds on her +feet. She crossed herself in self-abasement, struggled long-time +against such a belief. Girard presses and scolds, makes her show him +her side, and looks admiringly at the wound. "I, too," he said, "have +a wound; but mine is within." + +And now she is fain to believe in herself as a living miracle. Her +acceptance of a thing so startling was greatly quickened by the fact, +that Sister Remusat was just then dead. She had seen her in glory, her +heart borne upward by the angels. Who was to take her place on earth? +Who should inherit her high gifts, the heavenly favours wherewith she +had been crowned? Girard offered her the succession, corrupting her +through her pride. + +From that time she was changed. In her vanity she set down every +natural movement within her as holy. The loathings, the sudden starts +of a woman great with child, of all which she knew nothing, were +accounted for as inward struggles of the Spirit. As she sat at table +with her family on the first day of Lent, she suddenly beheld the +Saviour, who said, "I will lead thee into the desert, where thou shalt +share with Me all the love and all the suffering of the holy Forty +Days." She shuddered for dread of the suffering she must undergo. But +still she would offer up her single self for a whole world of sinners. +Her visions were all of blood; she had nothing but blood before her +eyes. She beheld Jesus like a sieve running blood. She herself began +to spit blood, and lose it in other ways. At the same time her nature +seemed quite changed. The more she suffered, the more amorous she +grew. On the twentieth day of Lent she saw her name coupled with that +of Girard. Her pride, raised and quickened by these new sensations, +enabled her to comprehend the _special sway_ enjoyed by Mary, the +Woman, with respect to God. She felt _how much lower angels are_ than +the least of saints, male or female. She saw the Palace of Glory, and +mistook herself for the Lamb. To crown these illusions she felt +herself lifted off the ground, several feet into the air. She could +hardly believe it, until Mdlle. Gravier, a respectable person, assured +her of the fact. Everyone came, admired, worshipped. Girard brought +his colleague Grignet, who knelt before her and wept with joy. + +Not daring to go to her every day, Girard often made her come to the +Jesuits' Church. There, before the altar, before the cross, he +surrendered himself to a passion all the fiercer for such a sacrilege. +Had she no scruples? did she still deceive herself? It seems as if, in +the midst of an elation still unfeigned and earnest, her conscience +was already dazed and darkened. Under cover of her bleeding wounds, +those cruel favours of her heavenly Spouse, she began to feel some +curious compensations.... + +In her reveries there are two points especially touching. One is the +pure ideal she had formed of a faithful union, when she fancied that +she saw her name and that of Girard joined together for ever in the +Book of Life. The other is her kindliness of heart, the charmingly +childlike nature which shines out through all her extravagances. On +Palm Sunday, looking at the joyous party around their family table, +she wept three hours together, for thinking that "on that very day no +one had asked Jesus to dinner." + +Through all that Lent, she could hardly eat anything: the little she +took was thrown up again. The last fifteen days she fasted altogether, +until she reached the last stage of weakness. Who would have believed +that against this dying girl, to whom nothing remained but the mere +breath, Girard could practise new barbarities? He had kept her sores +from closing. A new one was now formed on her right side. And at last, +on Good Friday, he gave the finishing touch to his cruel comedy, by +making her wear a crown of iron-wire, which pierced her forehead, +until drops of blood rolled down her face. All this was done without +much secresy. He began by cutting off her long hair and carrying it +away. He ordered the crown of one Bitard, a cagemaker in the town. She +did not show herself to her visitors with the crown on: they saw the +result only, the drops of blood and the bleeding visage. Impressions +of the latter, like so many _Veronicas_,[111] were taken off on +napkins, and doubtless given away by Girard to people of great piety. + + [111] After the saint of that name, whose handkerchief + received the impress of Christ's countenance.--TRANS. + +The mother, in her own despite, became an abettor in all this +juggling. In truth, she was afraid of Girard; she began to find him +capable of anything, and somebody, perhaps the Guiol, had told her, in +the deepest confidence, that, if she said a word against him, her +daughter would not be alive twenty-four hours. + +Cadire, for her part, never lied about the matter. In the narrative +taken down from her own lips of what happened this Lent, she expressly +tells of a crown, with sharp points, which stuck in her head, and made +it bleed. Nor did she then make any secret of the source whence came +the little crosses she gave her visitors. From a model supplied by +Girard, they were made to her order by one of her kinsfolk, a +carpenter in the Arsenal. + +On Good Friday, she remained twenty-four hours in a swoon, which they +called a trance; remained in special charge of Girard, whose +attentions weakened her, and did her deadly harm. She was now three +months gone with child. The saintly martyr, the transfigured marvel, +was already beginning to fill out. Desiring, yet dreading the more +violent issues of a miscarriage, he plied her daily with reddish +powders and dangerous drinks. + +Much rather would he have had her die, and so have rid himself of the +whole business. At any rate, he would have liked to get her away from +her mother, to bury her safe in a convent. Well acquainted with houses +of that sort, he knew, as Picard had done in the Louviers affair, how +cleverly and discreetly such cases as Cadire's could be hidden away. +He talked of it this very Good Friday. But she seemed too weak to be +taken safely from her bed. At last, however, four days after Easter, a +miscarriage took place. + +The girl Laugier had also been having strange convulsive fits, and +absurd beginnings of _stigmata_: one of them being an old wound, +caused by her scissors when she was working as a seamstress, the other +an eruptive sore in her side. Her transports suddenly turned to +impious despair. She spat upon the crucifix: she cried out against +Girard, "that devil of a priest, who had brought a poor girl of +two-and-twenty into such a plight, only to forsake her afterwards!" +Girard dared not go and face her passionate outbreaks. But the women +about her, being all in his interest, found some way of bringing this +matter to a quiet issue. + +Was Girard a wizard, as people afterwards maintained? They might well +think so, who saw how easily, being neither young nor handsome, he had +charmed so many women. Stranger still it was, that after getting thus +compromised, he swayed opinion to such a degree. For a while, he +seemed to have enchanted the whole town. + +The truth was, that everyone knew the strength of the Jesuits. Nobody +cared to quarrel with them. It was hardly reckoned safe to speak ill +of them, even in a whisper. The bulk of the priesthood consisted of +monklings of the Mendicant orders, who had no powerful friends or high +connections. The Carmelites themselves, jealous and hurt as they were +at losing Cadire, kept silence. Her brother, the young Jacobin, was +lectured by his trembling mother into resuming his old circumspect +ways. Becoming reconciled to Girard, he came at length to serve him as +devotedly as did his younger brother, even lending himself to a +curious trick by which people were led to believe that Girard had the +gift of prophecy. + + * * * * * + +Such weak opposition as he might have to fear, would come only from +the very person whom he seemed to have most thoroughly mastered. +Submissive hitherto, Cadire now gave some slight tokens of a coming +independence which could not help showing itself. On the 30th of +April, at a country party got up by the polite Girard, and to which he +sent his troop of young devotees in company with Guiol, Cadire fell +into deep thought. The fair spring-time, in that climate so very +charming, lifted her heart up to God. She exclaimed with a feeling of +true piety, "Thee, Thee only, do I seek, O Lord! Thine angels are not +enough for me." Then one of the party, a blithesome girl, having, in +the Provencial fashion, hung a tambourine round her neck, Cadire +skipped and danced about like the rest; with a rug thrown across her +shoulders, she danced the Bohemian measure, and made herself giddy +with a hundred mad capers. + +She was very unsettled. In May she got leave from her mother to make a +trip to Sainte-Baume, to the Church of St. Mary Magdalen, the chief +saint of girls on penance. Girard would only let her go under charge +of two faithful overlookers, Guiol and Reboul. But though she had +still some trances on the way, she showed herself weary of being a +passive tool to the violent spirit, whether divine or devilish, that +annoyed her. The end of her year's _possession_ was not far off. Had +she not won her freedom? Once issued forth from the gloom and +witcheries of Toulon, into the open air, in the midst of nature, +beneath the full sunshine, the prisoner regained her soul, withstood +the stranger spirit, dared to be herself, to use her own will. +Girard's two spies were far from edified thereat. On their return from +this short journey, from the 17th to the 22nd May, they warned him of +the change. He was convinced of it from his own experience. She fought +against the trance, seeming no longer wishful to obey aught save +reason. + +He had thought to hold her both by his power of charming and through +the holiness of his high office, and, lastly, by right of possession +and carnal usage. But he had no hold upon her at all. The youthful +soul, which, after all, had not been so much conquered as +treacherously surprised, resumed its own nature. This hurt him. +Besides his business of pedant, his tyranny over the children he +chastised at will, over nuns not less at his disposal, there remained +within a hard bottom of domineering jealousy. He determined to snatch +Cadire back by punishing this first little revolt, if such a name +could be given to the timid fluttering of a soul rising again from its +long compression. On the 22nd May she confessed to him after her wont; +but he refused to absolve her, declaring her to be so guilty that on +the morrow he would have to lay upon her a very great penance indeed. + +What would that be? A fast? But she was weakened and wasted already. +Long prayers, again, were not in fashion with Quietist directors,--were +in fact forbidden. There remained the _discipline_, or bodily +chastisement. This punishment, then everywhere habitual, was enforced +as prodigally in convents as in colleges. It was a simple and summary +means of swift execution, sometimes, in a rude and simple age, carried +out in the churches themselves. The _Fabliaux_ show us an artless +picture of manners, where, after confessing husband and wife, the +priest gave them the discipline without any ceremony, just as they +were, behind the confessional. Scholars, monks, nuns, were all +punished in the same way.[112] + + [112] The Dauphin was cruelly flogged. A boy of fifteen, + according to St. Simon, died from the pain of a like + infliction. The prioress of the Abbey-in-the-Wood, pleaded + before the King against the "afflictive chastisement" + threatened by her superior. For the credit of the convent, + she was spared the public shame; but the superior, to whom + she was consigned, doubtless punished her in a quiet way. The + immoral tendency of such a practice became more and more + manifest. Fear and shame led to woeful entreaties and + unworthy bargains. + +Girard knew that a girl like Cadire, all unused to shame, and very +modest--for what she had hitherto suffered took place unknown to +herself in her sleep--would feel so cruelly tortured, so fatally +crushed by this unseemly chastisement, as utterly to lose what little +buoyancy she had. She was pretty sure too, if we must speak out, to be +yet more cruelly mortified than other women, in respect of the pang +endured by her woman's vanity. With so much suffering, and so many +fasts, followed by her late miscarriage, her body, always delicate, +seemed worn away to a shadow. All the more surely would she shrink +from any exposure of a form so lean, so wasted, so full of aches. Her +swollen legs and such-like small infirmities would serve to enhance +her humiliation. + +We lack the courage to relate what followed. It may all be read in +those three depositions, so artless, so manifestly unfeigned, in +which, without being sworn, she made it her duty to avow what +self-interest bade her conceal, owning even to things which were +afterwards turned to the cruellest account against her. + +Her first deposition was made on the spur of the moment, before the +spiritual judge who was sent to take her by surprise. In this we seem +to be ever hearing the utterances of a young heart that speaks as +though in God's own presence. The second was taken before the King--I +should rather say before the magistrate who represented him, the +Lieutenant Civil and Criminal of Toulon. The last was heard before +the great assembly of the Parliament of Aix. + +Observe that all three, agreeing as they do wonderfully together, were +printed at Aix under the eye of her enemies, in a volume where, as I +shall presently prove, an attempt was made to extenuate the guilt of +Girard, and fasten the reader's gaze on every point likely to tell +against Cadire. And yet the editor could not help inserting +depositions like these, which bear with crushing weight on the man he +sought to uphold. + +It was a monstrous piece of inconsistency on Girard's part. He first +frightened the poor girl, and then suddenly took a base, a cruel +advantage of her fears. + +In this case no plea of love can be offered in extenuation. The truth +is far otherwise: he loved her no more. And this forms the most +dreadful part of the story. We have seen how cruelly he drugged her; +we have now to see her utterly forsaken. He owed her a grudge for +being of greater worth than those other degraded women. He owed her a +grudge for having unwittingly tempted him and brought him into danger. +Above all, he could not forgive her for keeping her soul in safety. He +sought only to tame her down, but caught hopefully at her oft-renewed +assurance, "I feel that I shall not live." Villanous profligate that +he was, bestowing his shameful kisses on that poor shattered body +whose death he longed to see! + +How did he account to her for this shocking antagonism of cruelty and +caresses? Was it meant to try her patience and obedience, or did he +boldly pass on to the true depths of Molinos' teaching, that "only by +dint of sinning can sin be quelled"? Did she take it all in full +earnest, never perceiving that all this show of justice, penitence, +expiation, was downright profligacy and nothing else? + +She did not care to understand him in the strange moral crash that +befell her after that 23rd May, under the influence of a mild warm +June. She submitted to her master, of whom she was rather afraid, and +with a singularly servile passion carried on the farce of undergoing +small penances day by day. So little regard did Girard show for her +feelings that he never hid from her his relations with other women. +All he wanted was to get her into a convent. Meanwhile she was his +plaything: she saw him, let him have his way. Weak, and yet further +weakened by the shame that unnerved her, growing sadder and more sad +at heart, she had now but little hold on life, and would keep on +saying, in words that brought no sorrow to Girard's soul, "I feel that +I shall soon be dead." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +CADIERE IN THE CONVENT: 1730. + + +The Abbess of the Ollioules Convent was young for an abbess, being +only thirty-eight years old. She was not wanting in mind. She was +lively, swift alike in love and in hatred, hurried away by her heart +and her senses also, endowed with very little of the tact and the +moderation needed for the governing of such a body. + +This nunnery drew its livelihood from two sources. On the one side, +there came to it from Toulon two or three nuns of consular families, +who brought good dowers with them, and therefore did what they +pleased. They lived with the Observantine monks who had the ghostly +direction of the convent. On the other hand, these monks, whose order +had spread to Marseilles and many other places, picked up some little +boarders and novices who paid for their keep: a contact full of danger +and unpleasantness for the children, as one may see by the Aubany +affair. + +There was no real confinement, nor much internal order. In the +scorching summer nights of that African climate, peculiarly oppressive +and wearying in the airless passes of Ollioules, nuns and novices +went to and fro with the greatest freedom. The very same things were +going on at Ollioules in 1730 which we saw in 1630 at Loudun. The bulk +of nuns, well-nigh a dozen out of the fifteen who made up the house, +being rather forsaken by the monks, who preferred ladies of loftier +position, were poor creatures, sick at heart, and disinherited, with +nothing to console them but tattling, child's play, and other +school-girls' tricks. + +The abbess was afraid that Cadire would soon see through all this. +She made some demur about taking her in. Anon, with some abruptness, +she entirely changed her cue. In a charming letter, all the more +flattering as sent so unexpectedly from such a lady to so young a +girl, she expressed a hope of her leaving the ghostly guidance of +Father Girard. The girl was not, of course, to be transferred to her +Observantines, who were far from capable of the charge. The abbess had +formed the bold, enlivening idea of taking her into her own hands and +becoming her sole director. + +She was very vain. Deeming herself more agreeable than an old Jesuit +confessor, she reckoned on making this prodigy her own, on conquering +her without trouble. She would have worked the young saint for the +benefit of her house. + +She paid her the marked compliment of receiving her on the threshold, +at the street-door. She kissed her, caught her up, led her into the +abbess's own fine room, and bade her share it with herself. She was +charmed with her modesty, with her invalid grace, with a certain +strangeness at once mysterious and melting. In that short journey the +girl had suffered a great deal. The abbess wanted to lay her down in +her own bed, saying she loved her so that she would have them sleep +together like sisters in one bed. + +For her purpose this was probably more than was needful. It would have +been quite enough to have the saint under her own roof. She would now +have too much the look of a little favourite. The lady, however, was +surprised at the young girl's hesitation, which doubtless sprang from +her modesty or her humility; in part, perhaps, from a comparison of +her own ill-health with the young health and blooming beauty of the +other. But the abbess tenderly urged her request. + +Under the influence of a fondling so close and so continual, she +deemed that Girard would be forgotten. With all abbesses it had become +the ruling fancy, the pet ambition, to confess their own nuns, +according to the practice allowed by St. Theresa. By this pleasant +scheme of hers the same result would come out of itself, the young +woman telling her confessors only of small things, but keeping the +depths of her heart for one particular person. Caressed continually by +one curious woman, at eventide, in the night, when her head was on the +pillow, she would have let out many a secret, whether her own or +another's. + +From this living entanglement she could not free herself at the +first. She slept with the abbess. The latter thought she held her fast +by a twofold tie, by the opposite means employed on the saint and on +the woman; that is, on the nervous, sensitive, and, through her +weakness, perhaps sensual girl. Her story, her sayings, whatever fell +from her lips, were all written down. From other sources she picked up +the meanest details of her physical life, and forwarded the report +thereof to Toulon. She would have made her an idol, a pretty little +pet doll. On a slope so slippery the work of allurement doubtless +moved apace. But the girl had scruples and a kind of fear. She made +one great effort, of which her weak health would have made her seem +incapable. She humbly asked leave to quit that dove's-nest, that couch +too soft and delicate, to go and live in common with the novices or +the boarders. + +Great was the abbess's surprise; great her mortification. She fancied +herself scorned. She took a spite against the thankless girl, and +never forgave her. + + * * * * * + +From the others Cadire met with a very pleasant welcome. The mistress +of the novices, Madame de Lescot, a nun from Paris, refined and good, +was a worthier woman than the abbess. She seemed to understand the +other--to see in her a poor prey of fate, a young heart full of God, +but cruelly branded by some eccentric spell which seemed like to hurry +her onward to disgrace, to some unhappy end. She busied herself +entirely with looking after the girl, saving her from her own +rashness, interpreting her to others, excusing those things which +might in her be least excusable. + +Saving the two or three noble ladies who lived with the monks and had +small relish for the higher mysticism, they were all fond of her, and +took her for an angel from heaven. Their tender feelings having little +else to engage them, became concentred in her and her alone. They +found her not only pious and wonderfully devout, but a good child +withal, kind-hearted, winning, and entertaining. They were no longer +listless and sick at heart. She engaged and edified them with her +dreams, with stories true, or rather, perhaps, unfeigned, mingled ever +with touches of purest tenderness. She would say, "At night I go +everywhere, even to America. Everywhere I leave letters bidding people +repent. To-night I shall go and seek you out, even when you have +locked yourselves in. We will all go together into the Sacred Heart." + +The miracle was wrought. Each of them at midnight, so she said, +received the delightful visit. They all fancied they felt Cadire +embracing them, and making them enter the heart of Jesus. They were +very frightened and very happy. Tenderest, most credulous of all, was +Sister Raimbaud, a woman of Marseilles, who tasted this happiness +fifteen times in three months, or nearly once in every six days. + +It was purely the effect of imagination. The proof is, that Cadire +visited all of them at one same moment. The abbess meanwhile was +hurt, being roused at the first to jealousy by the thought that she +only had been left out, and afterwards feeling assured that, lost as +the girl might be in her own dreams, she would get through so many +intimate friends but too clear an inkling into the scandals of the +house. + +These were scarcely hidden from her at all. But as nothing came to +Cadire save by the way of spiritual insight, she fancied they had +been told her in a revelation. Here her kindliness shone out. She felt +a large compassion for the God who was thus outraged. And once again +she imagined herself bound to atone for the rest, to save the sinners +from the punishment they deserved, by draining herself the worst +cruelties which the rage of devils would have power to wreak. + +All this burst upon her on the 25th June, the Feast of St. John. She +was spending the evening with the sisters in the novices' rooms. With +a loud cry she fell backward in contortions, and lost all +consciousness. + +When she came to, the novices surrounded her, waiting eager to hear +what she was going to say. But the governess, Madame Lescot, guessed +what she would say, felt that she was about to ruin herself. So she +lifted her up, and led her straight to her room, where she found +herself quite flayed, and her linen covered with blood. + +Why did Girard fail her amidst these struggles inward and from +without? She could not make him out. She had much need of support, and +yet he never came, except for one moment at rare intervals, to the +parlour. + +She wrote to him on the 28th June, by her brothers; for though she +could read, she was scarcely able to write. She called to him in the +most stirring, the most urgent tones, and he answers by putting her +off. He has to preach at Hyres, he has a sore throat, and so on. + +Wonderful to tell, it is the abbess herself who brings him thither. No +doubt she was uneasy at Cadire's discovering so much of the inner +life of the convent. Making sure that the girl would talk of it to +Girard, she wished to forestal her. In a very flattering and tender +note of the 3rd July, she besought the Jesuit to come and see herself +first, for she longed, between themselves, to be his pupil, his +disciple, as humble Nicodemus had been of Christ. "Under your +guidance, by the blessing of that holy freedom which my post ensures +me, I should move forward swiftly and noiselessly in the path of +virtue. The state of our young candidate here will serve me as a fair +and useful pretext." + +A startling, ill-considered step, betraying some unsoundness in the +lady's mind. Having failed to supplant Girard with Cadire, she now +essayed to supplant Cadire with Girard. Abruptly, without the least +preface, she stepped forward. She made her decision, like a great +lady, who was still agreeable and quite sure of being taken at her +word, who would go so far as even to talk of the _freedom_ she +enjoyed! + +In taking so false a step she started from a true belief that Girard +had ceased to care much for Cadire. But she might have guessed that +he had other things to perplex him in Toulon. He was disturbed by an +affair no longer turning upon a young girl, but on a lady of ripe age, +easy circumstances, and good standing; on his wisest penitent, Mdlle. +Gravier. Her forty years failed to protect her. He would have no +self-governed sheep in his fold. One day, to her surprise and +mortification, she found herself pregnant, and loud was her wail +thereat. + +Taken up with this new adventure, Girard looked but coldly on the +abbess's unforeseen advances. He mistrusted them as a trap laid for +him by the Observantines. He resolved to be cautious, saw the abbess, +who was already embarrassed by her rash step, and then saw Cadire, +but only in the chapel where he confessed her. + +The latter was hurt by his want of warmth. In truth his conduct showed +strange inconsistencies. He unsettled her with his light, agreeable +letters, full of little sportive threats which might have been called +lover-like. And yet he never deigned to see her save in public. + +In a note written the same evening she revenged herself in a very +delicate way. She said that when he granted her absolution, she felt +wonderfully dissevered both from herself and from _every other +creature_. + +It was just what Girard would have wanted. His plots had fallen into a +sad tangle, and Cadire was in the way. Her letter enchanted him: far +from being annoyed with her, he enjoined her to keep dissevered. At +the same time, he hinted at the need he had for caution. He had +received a letter, he said, warning him sharply of her faults. +However, as he would set off on the 6th July for Marseilles, he would +see her on the road. + +She awaited him, but no Girard came. Her agitation was very great. It +brought on a sharp fit of her old bodily distemper. She spoke of it to +her dear Sister Raimbaud, who would not leave her, who slept with her, +against the rules. This was on the night of the 6th July, when the +heat in that close oven of Ollioules was most oppressive and +condensed. At four or five o'clock, seeing her writhe in sharp +suffering, the other "thought she had the colic, and went to fetch +some fire from the kitchen." While she was gone, Cadire tried by one +last effort to bring Girard to her side forthwith. Whether with her +nails she had re-opened the wounds in her head, or whether she had +stuck upon it the sharp iron crown, she somehow made herself all +bloody. The pain transfigured her, until her eyes sparkled again. + +This lasted not less than two hours. The nuns flocked to see her in +this state, and gazed admiringly. They would even have brought their +Observantines thither, had Cadire not prevented them. + +The abbess would have taken good care to tell Girard nothing, lest he +should see her in a plight so touching, so very pitiful. But good +Madame Lescot comforted the girl by sending the news to the father. He +came, but like a true juggler, instead of going up to her room at +once, had himself an ecstatic fit in the chapel, staying there a whole +hour on his knees, prostrate before the Holy Sacrament. Going at +length upstairs, he found Cadire surrounded by all the nuns. They +tell him how for a moment she looked as if she was at mass, how she +seemed to open her lips to receive the Host. "Who should know that +better than myself?" said the knave. "An angel had told me. I repeated +the mass, and gave her the sacrament from Toulon." They were so upset +by the miracle, that one of them was two days ill. Girard then +addressed Cadire with unseemly gaiety: "So, so, little glutton! would +you rob me of half my share?" + +They withdraw respectfully, leaving these two alone. Behold him face +to face with his bleeding victim, so pale, so weak, but agitated all +the more! Anyone would have been greatly moved. The avowal expressed +by her blood, her wounds, rather than spoken words, was likely to +reach his heart. It was a humbling sight; but who would not have +pitied her? This innocent girl could for one moment yield to nature! +In her short unhappy life, a stranger as she was to the charms of +sense, the poor young saint could still show one hour of weakness! All +he had hitherto enjoyed of her without her knowledge, became mere +nought. With her soul, her will, he would now be master of everything. + +In her deposition Cadire briefly and bashfully said that she lost all +knowledge of what happened next. In a confession made to one of her +friends she uttered no complaints, but let her understand the truth. + +And what did Girard do in return for so charmingly bold a flight of +that impatient heart? He scolded her. He was only chilled by a warmth +which would have set any other heart on fire. His tyrannous soul +wanted nothing but the dead, the merest plaything of his will. And +this girl, by the boldness of her first move, had forced him to come. +The scholar had drawn the master along. The peevish pedant treated the +matter as he would have treated a rebellion at school. His lewd +severities, his coolly selfish pursuit of a cruel pleasure, blighted +the unhappy girl, who now had nothing left her but remorse. + +It was no less shocking a fact, that the blood poured out for his sake +had no other effect than to tempt him to make the most of it for his +own purposes. In this, perhaps his last, interview he sought to make +so far sure of the poor thing's discretion, that, however forsaken by +him, she herself might still believe in him. He asked if he was to be +less favoured than the nuns who had seen the miracle. She let herself +bleed before him. The water with which he washed away the blood he +drank himself,[113] and made her drink also, and by this hateful +communion, he thought to bind fast her soul. + + [113] This communion of blood prevailed among the Northern + _Reiters_. See my _Origines_. + +This lasted two or three hours, and it was now near noon. The abbess +was scandalized. She resolved to go with the dinner herself, and make +them open the door. Girard took some tea: it being Friday, he +pretended to be fasting; though he had doubtless armed himself well at +Toulon. Cadire asked for coffee. The lay sister who managed the +kitchen was surprised at this on such a day. But without that +strengthening draught she would have fainted away. It set her up a +little, and she kept hold of Girard still. He stayed with her, no +longer indeed locked in, till four o'clock, seeking to efface the +gloomy impression caused by his conduct in the morning. By dint of +lying about friendship and fatherhood, he somewhat reassured the +susceptible creature, and calmed her troubled spirits. She showed him +the way out, and, walking after him, took, childlike, two or three +skips for joy. He said, drily, "Little fool!" + + * * * * * + +She paid heavily for her weakness. At nine of that same night she had +a dreadful vision, and was heard crying out, "O God! keep off from me! +get back!" On the morning of the 8th, at mass she did not stay for the +communion, deeming herself, no doubt, unworthy, but made her escape +to her own room. Thereon arose much scandal. Yet so greatly was she +beloved, that one of the nuns ran after her, and, telling a +compassionate falsehood, swore she had beheld Jesus giving her the +sacrament with His own hand. + +Madame Lescot delicately and cleverly wrote a legend out of the mystic +ejaculations, the holy sighs, the devout tears, and whatever else +burst forth from this shattered heart. Strange to say, these women +tenderly conspired to shield a woman. Nothing tells more than this in +behalf of poor Cadire and her delightful gifts. Already in one +month's time she had become the child of all. They defended her in +everything she did. Innocent though she might be, they saw in her only +the victim of the Devil's attacks. One kind sturdy woman of the +people, Matherone, daughter of the Ollioules locksmith, and porteress +herself to the convent, on seeing some of Girard's indecent liberties, +said, in spite of them, "No matter: she is a saint." And when he once +talked of taking her from the convent, she cried out, "Take away our +Mademoiselle Cadire! I will have an iron door made to keep her from +going." + +Alarmed at the state of things, and at the use to which it might be +turned by the abbess and her monks, Cadire's brethren who came to her +every day, took courage to be beforehand; and in a formal letter +written in her name to Girard, reminded him of the revelation given +to her on the 25th June regarding the morals of the Observantines. It +was time, they said, "to carry out God's purposes in this matter," +namely, of course, to demand an inquiry, to accuse the accusers. + +Their excess of boldness was very rash. Cadire, now all but dying, +had no such thoughts in her head. Her women-friends imagined that he +who had caused the disturbance would, perhaps, bring back the calm. +They besought Girard to come and confess her. A dreadful scene took +place. At the confessional she uttered cries and wailings audible +thirty paces off. The curious among them found some amusement +listening to her, and were not disappointed. Girard was inflicting +chastisement. Again and again he said, "Be calm, mademoiselle!" In +vain did he try to absolve her. She would not be absolved. On the +12th, she had so sharp a pang below her heart, that she felt as though +her sides were bursting. On the 14th, she seemed fast dying, and her +mother was sent for. She received the viaticum; and on the morrow made +a public confession, "the most touching, the most expressive that had +ever been heard. We were drowned in tears." On the 20th, she was in a +state of heart-rending agony. After that she had a sudden and saving +change for the better, marked by a very soothing vision. She beheld +the sinful Magdalen pardoned, caught up into glory, filling in heaven +the place which Lucifer had lost. + +Girard, however, could only ensure her discretion by corrupting her +yet further, by choking her remorse. Sometimes he would come to the +parlour and greet her with bold embraces. But oftener he sent his +faithful followers, Guiol and others, who sought to initiate her into +their own disgraceful secrets, while seeming to sympathise tenderly +with the sufferings of their outspoken friend. Girard not only winked +at this, but himself spoke freely to Cadire of such matters as the +pregnancy of Mdlle. Gravier. He wanted her to ask him to Ollioules, to +calm his irritation, to persuade him that such a circumstance might be +a delusion of the Devil's causing, which could perchance be dispelled. + +These impure teachings made no way with Cadire. They were sure to +anger her brethren, to whom they were not unknown. The letters they +wrote in her name are very curious. Enraged at heart and sorely +wounded, accounting Girard a villain, but obliged to make their sister +speak of him with respectful tenderness, they still, by snatches, let +their wrath become visible. + +As for Girard's letters, they are pieces of laboured writing, +manifestly meant for the trial which might take place. Let us talk of +the only one which he did not get into his hands to tamper with. It is +dated the 22nd July. It is at once sour and sweet, agreeable, +trifling, the letter of a careless man. The meaning of it is thus:-- + +"The bishop reached Toulon this morning, and will go to see +Cadire.... They will settle together what to do and say. If the Grand +Vicar and Father Sabatier wish to see her, and ask to see her wounds, +she will tell them that she has been forbidden to do or say aught. + +"I am hungering to see you again, to see the whole of you. You know +that I only demand _my right_. It is so long since I have seen more +than half of you (he means to say, at the parlour grating). Shall I +tire you? Well, do you not also tire me?" And so on. + +A strange letter in every way. He distrusts alike the bishop and the +Jesuit, his own colleague, old Sabatier. It is at bottom the letter of +a restless culprit. He knows that in her hands she holds his letters, +his papers, the means, in short, of ruining him. The two young men +write back in their sister's name a spirited answer--the only one that +has a truthful sound. They answer him line for line, without insult, +but with a roughness often ironical, and betraying the wrath pent-up +within them. The sister promises to obey him, to say nothing either to +the bishop or the Jesuit. She congratulates him on having "boldness +enough to exhort others to suffer." She takes up and returns him his +shocking gallantry, but in a shocking way; and here we trace a man's +hand, the hand of those two giddy heads. + +Two days after, they went and told her to decide on leaving the +convent forthwith. Girard was dismayed. He thought his papers would +disappear with her. The greatness of his terror took away his senses. +He had the weakness to go and weep at the Ollioules parlour, to fall +on his knees before her, and ask her if she had the heart to leave +him. Touched by his words, the poor girl said "No," went forward, and +let him embrace her. And yet this Judas wanted only to deceive her, to +gain a few days' time for securing help from a higher quarter. + +On the 29th there is an utter change. Cadire stays at Ollioules, begs +him to excuse her, vows submission. It is but too clear that he has +set some mighty influences at work; that from the 29th threats come +in, perhaps from Aix, and presently from Paris. The Jesuit bigwigs +have been writing, and their courtly patrons from Versailles. + +In such a struggle, what were the brethren to do? No doubt they took +counsel with their chiefs, who would certainly warn them against +setting too hard on Girard as a _libertine confessor_; for thereby +offence would be given to all the clergy, who deemed confession their +dearest prize. It was needful, on the contrary; to sever him from the +priests by proving the strangeness of his teaching, by bringing him +forward as a _Quietist_. With that one word they might lead him a long +way. In 1698, a vicar in the neighbourhood of Dijon had been burnt for +Quietism. They conceived the idea of drawing up a memoir, dictated +apparently by their sister, to whom the plan was really unknown, in +which the high and splendid Quietism of Girard should be affirmed, +and therefore in effect denounced. This memoir recounted the visions +she had seen in Lent. In it the name of Girard was already in heaven. +She saw it joined with her own in the Book of Life. + +They durst not take this memoir to the bishop. But they got their +friend, little Camerle, his youthful chaplain, to steal it from them. +The bishop read it, and circulated some copies about the town. On the +21st August, Girard being at the palace, the bishop laughingly said to +him, "Well, father, so your name is in the Book of Life!" + +He was overcome, fancied himself lost, wrote to Cadire in terms of +bitter reproach. Once more with tears he asked for his papers. Cadire +in great surprise vowed that her memoir had never gone out of her +brother's hands. But when she found out her mistake, her despair was +unbounded. The sharpest pangs of body and soul beset her. Once she +thought herself on the point of death. She became like one mad. "I +long so much to suffer. Twice I caught up the rod of penance, and +wielded it so savagely as to draw a great deal of blood." In the midst +of this dreadful outbreak, which proved at once the weakness of her +head and the boundless tenderness of her conscience, Guiol finished +her by describing Girard as nearly dead. This raised her compassion to +the highest pitch. + +She was going to give up the papers. And yet it was but too clear +that these were her only safeguard and support, the only proofs of her +innocence, and the tricks of which she had been made the victim. To +give them up was to risk a change of characters, to risk the +imputation of having herself seduced a saint, the chance, in short, of +seeing all the blame transferred to her own side. + +But, if she must either be ruined herself or else ruin Girard, she +would far sooner accept the former result. A demon, Guiol of course, +tempted her in this very way, with the wondrous sublimity of such a +sacrifice. God, she wrote, asked of her a bloody offering. She could +tell her of saints who, being accused, did not justify, but rather +accused themselves, and died like lambs. This example Cadire +followed. When Girard was accused before her, she defended him, +saying, "He is right, and I told a falsehood." + +She might have yielded up the letters of Girard only; but in so great +an outflowing of heart she would have no haggling, and so gave him +even copies of her own. + +Thus at the same time he held these drafts written by the Jacobin, and +the copies made and sent him by the other brother. Thenceforth he had +nothing to fear: no further check could be given him. He might make +away with them or put them back again; might destroy, blot out, and +falsify at pleasure. He was perfectly free to carry on his forger's +work, and he worked away to some purpose. Out of twenty-four letters, +sixteen remain; and these still read like elaborately forged +afterthoughts. + +With everything in his own hands, Girard could laugh at his foes. It +was now their turn to be afraid. The bishop, a man of the upper world, +was too well acquainted with Versailles and the name won by the +Jesuits not to treat them with proper tenderness. He even thought it +safest to make Girard some small amends for his unkind reproach about +The Book of Life; and so he graciously informed him that he would like +to stand godfather to the child of one of his kinsmen. + +The Bishops of Toulon had always been high lords. The list of them +shows all the first names of Provence, and some famous names from +Italy. From 1712 to 1737, under the Regency and Fleury, the bishop was +one of the La Tours of Pin. He was very rich, having also the Abbeys +of Aniane and St. William of the Desert, in Languedoc. He behaved +well, it was said, during the plague of 1721. However, he stayed but +seldom at Toulon, lived quite as a man of the world, never said mass, +and passed for something more than a lady's man. + +In July he went to Toulon, and though Girard would have turned him +aside from Ollioules and Cadire, he was curious to see her +nevertheless. He saw her in one of her best moments. She took his +fancy, seemed to him a pretty little saint; and so far did he believe +in her enlightenment from above, as to speak to her thoughtlessly of +all his affairs, his interests, his future doings, consulting her as +he would have consulted a teller of fortunes. + +In spite, however, of the brethren's prayers he hesitated to take her +away from Ollioules and from Girard. A means was found of resolving +him. A report was spread about Toulon, that the girl had shown a +desire to flee into the wilderness, as her model saint, Theresa, had +essayed to do at twelve years old. Girard, they said, had put this +fancy into her head, that he might one day carry her off beyond the +diocese whose pride she was, and box-up his treasure in some far +convent, where the Jesuits, enjoying the whole monopoly, might turn to +the most account her visions, her miracles, her winsome ways as a +young saint of the people. The bishop felt much hurt. He instructed +the abbess to give Mdlle. Cadire up to no one save her mother, who +was certain to come very shortly and take her away from the convent to +a country-house belonging to the family. + +In order not to offend Girard, they got Cadire to write and say that, +if such a change incommoded him, he could find a colleague and give +her a second confessor. He saw their meaning, and preferred disarming +jealousy by abandoning Cadire. He gave her up on the 15th September, +in a note most carefully worded and piteously humble, by which he +strove to leave her friendly and tender towards himself. "If I have +sometimes done wrong as concerning you, you will never at least forget +how wishful I have been to help you.... I am, and ever will be, all +yours in the Secret Heart of Jesus." + +The bishop, however, was not reassured. He fancied that the three +Jesuits, Girard, Sabatier, and Grignet, wanted to beguile him, and +some day, with some order from Paris, rob him of his little woman. On +the 17th September, he decided once for all to send his carriage, a +light fashionable _phaeton_, as it was called, and have her taken off +at once to her mother's country-house. + +By way of soothing and shielding her, of putting her in good trim, he +looked out for a confessor, and applied first to a Carmelite who had +confessed her before Girard came. But he, being an old man, declined. +Some others also probably hung back. The bishop had to take a +stranger, but three months come from the County (Avignon), one Father +Nicholas, prior of the Barefooted Carmelites. He was a man of forty, +endowed with brains and boldness, very firm and even stubborn. He +showed himself worthy of such a trust by rejecting it. It was not the +Jesuits he feared, but the girl herself. He foreboded no good +therefrom, thought that the angel might be an angel of darkness, and +feared that the Evil One under the shape of a gentle girl would deal +his blows with all the more baleful effect. + +But he could not see her without feeling somewhat reassured. She +seemed so very simple, so pleased at length to have a safe, steady +person, on whom she might lean. The continual wavering in which she +had been kept by Girard, had caused her the greatest suffering. On the +first day she spoke more than she had done for a month past, told him +of her life, her sufferings, her devotions, and her visions. Night +itself, a hot night in mid-September, did not stop her. In her room +everything was open, the windows, and the three doors. She went on +even to daybreak, while her brethren lay near her asleep. On the +morrow she resumed her tale under the vine-bower. The Carmelite was +amazed, and asked himself if the Devil could ever be so earnest in +praise of God. + +Her innocence was clear. She seemed a nice obedient girl, gentle as a +lamb, frolicsome as a puppy. She wanted to play at bowls, a common +game in those country-places, nor did he for his part refuse to join +her. + +If there was a spirit in her, it could not at any rate be called the +spirit of lying. On looking at her closely for a long time, you could +not doubt that her wounds now and then did really bleed. He took care +to make no such immodest scrutiny of them as Girard had done, +contenting himself with a look at the wound upon her foot. Of her +trances he saw quite enough. On a sudden, a burning heat would diffuse +itself everywhere from her heart. Losing her consciousness, she went +into convulsions and talked wildly. + +The Carmelite clearly perceived that in her were two persons, the +young woman and the Demon. The former was honest, nay, very fresh of +heart; ignorant, for all that had been done to her; little able to +understand the very things that had brought her into such sore +trouble. When, before confession, she spoke of Girard's kisses, the +Carmelite roughly said, "But those are very great sins." + +"O God!" she answered, weeping, "I am lost indeed, for he has done +much more than that to me!" + +The bishop came to see. For him the country-house was only the length +of a walk. She answered his questions artlessly, told him at least how +things began. The bishop was angry, mortified, very wroth. No doubt he +guessed the remainder. There was nought to keep him from raising a +great outcry against Girard. Not caring for the danger of a struggle +with the Jesuits, he entered thoroughly into the Carmelite's views, +allowed that she was bewitched, and added that _Girard himself was the +wizard_. He wanted to lay him that very moment under a solemn ban, to +bring him to disgrace and ruin. Cadire prayed for him who had done +her so much wrong; vengeance she would not have. Falling on her knees +before the bishop, she implored him to spare Girard, to speak no more +of things so sorrowful. With touching humility, she said, "It is +enough for me to be enlightened at last, to know that I was living in +sin." Her Jacobin brother took her part, foreseeing the perils of such +a war, and doubtful whether the bishop would stand fast. + +Her attacks of disorder were now fewer. The season had changed. The +burning summer was over. Nature at length showed mercy. It was the +pleasant month of October. The bishop had the keen delight of feeling +that she had been saved by him. No longer under Girard's influence in +the stifling air of Ollioules, but well cared-for by her family, by +the brave and honest monk, protected, too, by the bishop, who never +grudged his visits, and who shielded her with his steady countenance, +the young girl became altogether calm. + +For seven weeks or so she seemed quite well-behaved. The bishop's +happiness was so great that he wanted the Carmelite, with Cadire's +help, to look after Girard's other penitents, and bring them also back +to their senses. They should go to the country-house; how unwillingly, +and with how ill a grace we can easily guess. In truth, it was +strangely ill-judged to bring those women before the bishop's ward, a +girl so young still, and but just delivered from her own ecstatic +ravings. + +The state of things became ridiculous and sorely embittered. Two +parties faced each other, Girard's women and those of the bishop. On +the side of the latter were a German lady and her daughter, dear +friends of Cadire's. On the other side were the rebels, headed by the +Guiol. With her the bishop treated, in hopes of getting her to enter +into relations with the Carmelite, and bring her friends over to him. +He sent her his own clerk, and then a solicitor, an old lover of +Guiol's. All this failing of any effect, the bishop came to his last +resource, determined to summon them all to his palace. Here they +mostly denied those trances and mystic marks of which they had made +such boast. One of them, Guiol, of course, astonished him yet more by +her shamelessly treacherous offer to prove to him, on the spot, that +they had no marks whatever about their bodies. They had deemed him +wanton enough to fall into such a snare. But he kept clear of it very +well, declining the offer with thanks to those who, at the cost of +their own modesty, would have had him copy Girard, and provoke the +laughter of all the town. + +The bishop was not lucky. On the one hand, these bold wenches made fun +of him. On the other, his success with Cadire was now being undone. +She had hardly entered her own narrow lane in gloomy Toulon, when she +began to fall off. She was just in those dangerous and baleful centres +where her illness began, on the very field of the battle waged by the +two hostile parties. The Jesuits, whose rearguard everyone saw in the +Court, had on their side the crafty, the prudent, the knowing. The +Carmelite had none but the bishop with him, was not even backed by his +own brethren, nor yet by the clergy. He had one weapon, however, in +reserve. On the 8th November, he got out of Cadire a written power to +reveal her confession in case of need. + +It was a daring, dauntless step, which made Girard shudder. He was +not very brave, and would have been undone had his cause not been that +of the Jesuits also. He cowered down in the depths of their college. +But his colleague Sabatier, an old, sanguine, passionate fellow, went +straight to the bishop's palace. He entered into the prelate's +presence, like another Popilius, bearing peace or war in his gown. He +pushed him to the wall, made him understand that a suit with the +Jesuits would lead to his own undoing; that he would remain for ever +Bishop of Toulon; would never rise to an archbishopric. Yet further, +with the freedom of an apostle strong at Versailles, he assured him +that if this affair exposed the morals of a Jesuit, it would shed no +less light on the morals of a bishop. In a letter, clearly planned by +Girard, it was pretended that the Jesuits held themselves ready in the +background, to hurl dreadful recriminations against the prelate, +declaring his way of life not only unepiscopal, but _abominable_ +withal. The sly, faithless Girard and the hot-headed Sabatier, swollen +with rage and spitefulness, would have pressed the calumnious charge. +They would not have failed to say that all this matter was about a +girl; that if Girard had taken care of her when ill, the bishop had +gotten her when she was well. What a commotion would be caused by such +a scandal in the well-regulated life of the great worldly lord! It +were too laughable a piece of chivalry to make war in revenge for the +maidenhood of a weak little fool, to embroil oneself for her sake with +all honest people! The Cardinal of Bonzi died indeed of grief at +Toulouse, but that was on account of a fair lady, the Marchioness of +Ganges. The bishop, on his part, risked his ruin, risked the chance of +being overwhelmed with shame and ridicule, for the child of a +retail-dealer in the Rue de l'Hpital! + +Sabatier's threatenings made all the greater impression, because the +bishop himself clung less firmly to Cadire. He did not thank her for +falling ill again; for giving the lie to his former success; for doing +him a wrong by her relapse. He bore her a grudge for having failed to +cure her. He said to himself that Sabatier was in the right; that he +had better come to a compromise. The change was sudden--a kind of +warning from above. All at once, like Paul on the way to Damascus, he +beheld the light, and became a convert to the Jesuits. + +Sabatier would not let him go. He put paper before him, and made him +write and sign a decree forbidding the Carmelite, his agent with +Cadire, and another forbidding her brother, the Jacobin. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE TRIAL OF CADIERE: 1730-1731. + + +We can guess how this alarming blow was taken by the Cadire family. +The sick girl's attacks became frequent and fearful. By a cruel chance +they brought on a kind of epidemic among her intimate friends. Her +neighbour, the German lady, who had trances also, which she had +hitherto deemed divine, now fell into utter fright, and fancied they +came from hell. This worthy dame of fifty years remembered that she, +too, had often had unclean thoughts: she believed herself given over +to the Devil; saw nothing but devils about her; and escaping from her +own house in spite of her daughter's watchfulness, entreated shelter +from the Cadires. From that time the house became unbearable; +business could not be carried on. The elder Cadire inveighed +furiously against Girard, crying, "He shall be served like Gauffridi: +he, too, shall be burnt!" And the Jacobin added, "Rather would we +waste the whole of our family estate!" + +On the night of the 17th November, Cadire screamed, and was like one +choking. They thought she was going to die. The eldest Cadire, the +tradesman, lost his wits, and called out to his neighbours from the +window, "Help! the Devil is throttling my sister!" They came running +up almost in their shirts. The doctors and surgeons wanted to apply +the cupping-glasses to a case of what they called "suffocation of the +womb." While some were gone to fetch these, they succeeded in +unlocking her teeth and making her swallow a drop of brandy, which +brought her to herself. Meanwhile there also came to the girl some +doctors of the soul; first an old priest confessor to Cadire's +mother, and then some parsons of Toulon. All this noise and shouting, +the arrival of the priests in full dress, the preparations for +exorcising, had brought everyone out into the street. The newcomers +kept asking what was the matter. "Cadire has been bewitched by +Girard," was the continual reply. We may imagine the pity and the +wrath of the people. + +Greatly alarmed, but anxious to cast the fear back on others, the +Jesuits did a very barbarous thing. They returned to the bishop, +ordered and insisted that Cadire should be brought to trial; that the +attack should be made that very day; that justice should make an +unforeseen descent on this poor girl, as she lay rattling in the +throat after the last dreadful seizure. + +Sabatier never left the bishop until the latter had called his judge, +his officer, the Vicar-general Larmedieu, and his prosecutor or +episcopal advocate, Esprit Reybaud, and commanded them to go to work +forthwith. + +By the Canon Law this was impossible, illegal. A _preliminary inquiry +was needed_ into the facts, before the judicial business could begin. +There was another difficulty: the spiritual judge had no right to make +such an arrest save for _a rejection of the Sacrament_. The two +church-lawyers must have made these objections. But Sabatier would +hear of no excuses. If matters were allowed to drag in this cold legal +way, he would miss his stroke of terror. + +Larmedieu was a compliant judge, a friend of the clergy. He was not +one of your rude magistrates who go straight before them, like blind +boars, on the high-road of the law, without seeing or respecting +anyone. He had shown great regard for Aubany, the patron of Ollioules, +during his trial; helping him to escape by the slowness of his own +procedure. Afterwards, when he knew him to be at Marseilles, as if +that was far from France, in the _ultima thule_ or _terra incognita_ +of ancient geographers, he would not budge any further. This, however, +was a very different case: the judge who was so paralytic against +Aubany, had wings, and wings of lightning, for Cadire. It was nine in +the morning when the dwellers in the lane saw with much curiosity a +grand procession arrive at the Cadires' door, with Master Larmedieu +and the episcopal advocate at the head, honoured by an escort of two +clergymen, doctors of theology. The house was invaded: the sick girl +was summoned before them. They made her swear to tell the truth +against herself; swear to defame herself by speaking out in the ears +of justice matters that touched her conscience and the confessional +only. + +She might have dispensed with an answer, for none of the usual forms +had been observed: but she would not raise the question. She took the +oath that was meant to disarm and betray her. For, being once bound +thereby, she told everything, even to those shameful and ridiculous +details which it must be very painful for any girl to acknowledge. + +Larmedieu's official statement and his first examination point to a +clearly settled agreement between him and the Jesuits. Girard was to +be brought forward as the dupe and prey of Cadire's knavery. Fancy a +man of sixty, a doctor, professor, director of nuns, being therewithal +so innocent and credulous, that a young girl, a mere child, was enough +to draw him into the snare! The cunning, shameless wanton had beguiled +him with her visions, but failed to draw him into her own excesses. +Enraged thereat, she endowed him with every baseness that the fancy of +a Messalina could suggest to her! + +So far from giving grounds for any such idea, the examination brings +out the victim's gentleness in a very touching way. Evidently she +accuses others only through constraint, under the pressure of her oath +just taken. She is gentle towards her enemies, even to the faithless +Guiol who, in her brother's words, had betrayed her; had done her +worst to corrupt her; had ruined her, last of all, by making her give +up the papers which would have insured her safety. + +The Cadire brothers were frightened at their sister's artlessness. In +her regard for her oath she gave herself up without reserve to be +vilified, alas! for ever; to have ballads sung about her; to be mocked +by the very foes of Jesuits and silly scoffing libertines. + +The mischief done, they wanted at least to have it defined, to have +the official report of the priests checked by some more serious +measure. Seeming though she did to be the party accused, they made her +the accuser, and prevailed on Marteli Chantard, the King's Lieutenant +Civil and Criminal, to come and take her deposition. In this document, +short and clear, the fact of her seduction is clearly established; +likewise the reproaches she uttered against Girard for his lewd +endearments, reproaches at which he only laughed; likewise the advice +he gave her, to let herself be possessed by the Demon; likewise the +means he used for keeping her wounds open, and so on. + +The King's officer, the Lieutenant, was bound to carry the matter +before his own court. For the spiritual judge in his hurry had failed +to go through the forms of ecclesiastic law, and so made his +proceedings null. But the lay magistrate lacked the courage for this. +He let himself be harnessed to the clerical inquiry, accepted +Larmedieu for his colleague, went himself to sit and hear the evidence +in the bishop's court. The clerk of the bishopric wrote it down, and +not the clerk of the King's Lieutenant. Did he write it down +faithfully? We have reason to doubt that, when we find him threatening +the witnesses, and going every night to show their statements to the +Jesuits. + +The two curates of Cadire's parish, who were heard first, deposed +drily, not in her favour, yet by no means against her, certainly not +in favour of the Jesuits. These latter saw that everything was going +amiss for them. Lost to all shame, at the risk of angering the people, +they determined to break all down. They got from the bishop an order +to imprison Cadire and the chief witnesses she wanted to be heard. +These were the German lady and Batarelle. The girl herself was placed +in the Refuge, a convent-prison; the ladies in a bridewell, the +_Good-Shepherd_, where mad women and foul streetwalkers needing +punishment were thrown. On the 26th November, Cadire was dragged from +her bed and given over to the Ursulines, penitents of Girard's, who +laid her duly on some rotten straw. + +A fear of them thus established, the witnesses might now be heard. +They began with two, choice and respectable. One was the Guiol, +notorious for being Girard's pander, a woman of keen and clever +tongue, who was commissioned to hurl the first dart and open the wound +of slander. The other was Laugier, the little seamstress, whom Cadire +had supported and for whose apprenticeship she had paid. While she lay +with child by Girard, this Laugier had cried out against him; now she +washed away her fault by sneering at Cadire and defiling her +benefactress, but in a very clumsy way, like the shameless wanton she +was; ascribing to her impudent speeches quite contrary to her known +habits. Then came Mdlle. Gravier and her cousin Reboul--all the +_Girardites_, in short, as they were called in Toulon. + +But, do as they would, the light would burst forth now and then. The +wife of a purveyor in the house where these Girardites met together, +said, with cruel plainness, that she could not abide them, that they +disturbed the whole house; she spoke of their noisy bursts of +laughter, of their suppers paid for out of the money collected for the +poor, and so forth. + +They were sore afraid lest the nuns should speak out for Cadire. The +bishop's clerk told them, as if from the bishop himself, that those +who spoke evil should be chastised. As a yet stronger measure, they +ordered back from Marseilles the gay Father Aubany, who had some +ascendant over the nuns. His affair with the girl he had violated was +got settled for him. Her parents were made to understand that justice +could do nothing in their case. The child's good name was valued at +eight hundred livres, which were paid on Aubany's account. So, full of +zeal, he returned, a thorough Jesuit, to his troop at Ollioules. The +poor troop trembled indeed, when this worthy father told them of his +commission to warn them that, if they did not behave themselves, "they +should be put to the torture." + +For all that, they could not get as much as they wanted from these +fifteen nuns. Two or three at most were on Girard's side, but all +stated facts, especially about the 7th July, which bore directly +against him. + +In despair the Jesuits came to an heroic decision, in order to make +sure of their witnesses. They stationed themselves in an outer hall +which led into the court. There they stopped those going in, tampered +with them, threatened them, and, if they were against Girard, coolly +debarred their entrance by thrusting them out of doors. + +Thus the clerical judge and the King's officer were only as puppets in +the Jesuits' hands. The whole town saw this and trembled. During +December, January, and February, the Cadire family drew up and +diffused a complaint touching the way in which justice was denied them +and witnesses suborned. The Jesuits themselves felt that the place +would no longer hold them. They evoked help from a higher quarter. +This seemed best available in the shape of a decree of the Great +Council, which would have brought the matter before itself and hushed +up everything, as Mazarin had done in the Louviers affair. But the +Chancellor was D'Aguesseau; and the Jesuits had no wish to let the +matter go up to Paris. They kept it still in Provence. On the 16th +January, 1731, they got the King to determine that the Parliament of +Provence, where they had plenty of friends, should pass sentence on +the inquiry which two of its councillors were conducting at Toulon. + +M. Faucon, a layman, and M. de Charleval, a councillor of the Church, +came in fact and straightway marched down among the Jesuits. These +eager commissioners made so little secret of their loud and bitter +partiality, as to toss out an order for Cadire's remand, just as they +might have done to an accused prisoner; whilst Girard was most +politely called up and allowed to go free, to keep on saying mass and +hearing confessions. And so the plaintiff was kept under lock and key, +in her enemies' hands, exposed to all manner of cruelty from Girard's +devotees. + +From these honest Ursulines she met with just such a reception as if +they had been charged to bring about her death. The room they gave her +was the cell of a mad nun who made everything filthy. In the nun's old +straw, in the midst of a frightful stench, she lay. Her kinsmen on the +morrow had much ado to get in a coverlet and mattress for her use. For +her nurse and keeper she was allowed a poor tool of Girard's, a +lay-sister, daughter to that very Guiol who had betrayed her; a girl +right worthy of her mother, capable of any wickedness, a source of +danger to her modesty, perhaps even to her life. They submitted her to +a course of penance in her case specially painful, refusing her the +right of confessing herself or taking the sacrament. She relapsed into +her illness from the time she was debarred the latter privilege. Her +fierce foe, the Jesuit Sabatier, came into her cell, and formed a new +and startling scheme to win her by a bribe of the holy wafer. The +bargaining began. They offered her terms: she should communicate if +she would only acknowledge herself a slanderer, unworthy of +communicating. In her excessive humbleness she might have done so. +But, while ruining herself, she would also have ruined the Carmelite +and her own brethren. + +Reduced to Pharisaical tricks, they took to expounding her speeches. +Whatever she uttered in a mystic sense they feigned to accept in its +material hardness. To free herself from such snares she displayed, +what they had least expected, very great presence of mind. + +A yet more treacherous plan for robbing her of the public sympathy and +setting the laughers against her, was to find her a lover. They +pretended that she had proposed to a young blackguard that they should +set off together and roam the world. + +The great lords of that day, being fond of having children and little +pages to wait on them, readily took in the better-mannered of their +peasant's sons. In this way had the bishop dealt with the boy of one +of his tenants. He washed his face, as it were; made him tidy. +Presently, when the favourite grew up, he gave him the tonsure, +dressed him up like an abb, and dubbed him his chaplain at the age of +twenty. This person was the Abb Camerle. Brought up with the footmen +and made to do everything, he was, like many a half-scrubbed country +youth, a sly, but simple lout. He saw that the prelate since his +arrival at Toulon had been curious about Cadire and far from friendly +to Girard. He thought to please and amuse his master by turning +himself, at Ollioules, into a spy on their suspected intercourse. But +after the bishop changed through fear of the Jesuits, Camerle became +equally zealous in helping Girard with active service against Cadire. + +He came one day, like another Joseph, to say that Mdlle. Cadire had, +like Potiphar's wife, been tempting him, and trying to shake his +virtue. Had this been true, it was all the more cowardly of him thus +to punish her for a moment's weakness, to take so mean an advantage of +some light word. But his education as page and seminarist was not such +as to bring him either honour or the love of women. + +She extricated herself with spirit and success, covering him with +shame. The two angry commissioners saw her making so triumphant an +answer, that they cut the investigation short, and cut down the number +of her witnesses. Out of the sixty-eight she summoned, they allowed +but thirty-eight to appear. Regardless alike of the delays and the +forms of justice, they hurried forward the confronting of witnesses. +Yet nothing was gained, thereby. On the 25th and again on the 26th +February, she renewed her crushing declarations. + +Such was their rage thereat, that they declared their regret at the +want of torments and executioners in Toulon, "who might have made her +sing out a little." These things formed their _ultima ratio_. They +were employed, by the Parliaments through all that century. I have +before me a warm defence of torture,[114] written in 1780, by a +learned member of Parliament, who also became a member of the Great +Council; it was dedicated to the King, Louis XVI., and crowned with +the flattering approval of His Holiness Pius VI. + + [114] Muyart de Vouglans, in the sequel to his _Loix + Criminelles_, 1780. + +But, in default of the torture that would have made her sing, she was +made to speak by a still better process. On the 27th February, Guiol's +daughter, the lay-sister who acted as her jailer, came to her at an +early hour with a glass of wine. She was astonished: she was not at +all thirsty: she never drank wine, especially pure wine, of a morning. +The lay-sister, a rough, strong menial, such as they keep in convents +to manage crazy or refractory women, and to punish children, +overwhelmed the feeble sufferer with remonstrances that looked like +threats. Unwilling as she was, she drank. And she was forced to drink +it all, to the very dregs, which she found unpleasantly salt. + +What was this repulsive draught? We have already seen how clever these +old confessors of nuns were at remedies of various kinds. In this case +the wine alone would have done for so weakly a patient. It had been +quite enough to make her drunk, to draw from her at once some +stammering speeches, which the clerk might have moulded into a +downright falsehood. But a drug of some kind, perhaps some wizard's +simple, which would act for several days, was added to the wine, in +order to prolong its effects and leave her no way of disproving +anything laid to her charge. + +In her declaration of the 27th February, how sudden and entire a +change! It is nothing but a defence of Girard! Strange to say, the +commissioners make no remark on so abrupt a change. The strange, +shameful sight of a young girl drunk causes no astonishment, fails to +put them on their guard. She is made to own that all which had passed +between herself and Girard was merely the offspring of her own +diseased fancy; that all she had spoken of as real, at the bidding of +her brethren and the Carmelite, was nothing more than a dream. Not +content with whitening Girard, she must blacken her own friends, must +crush them, and put the halter round their necks. + +Especially wonderful is the clearness of her deposition, the neat way +in which it is worded. The hand of the skilful clerk peeps out +therefrom. It is very strange, however, that now they are in so fair a +way, they do not follow it up. From the 27th to the 6th of March there +is no further questioning. + +On the 28th, the poison having doubtless done its work, and plunged +her into a perfect stupor, or else a kind of Sabbatic frenzy, it was +impossible to bring her forth. After that, while her head was still +disordered, they could easily give her other potions of which she +would know and remember nothing. What happened during those six days +seems to have been so shocking, so sad for poor Cadire, that neither +she nor her brother had the heart to speak of it twice. Nor would they +have spoken at all, had not the brethren themselves incurred a +prosecution aiming at their own lives. + +Having won his cause through Cadire's falsehood, Girard dared to come +and see her in her prison, where she lay stupefied or in despair, +forsaken alike of earth and heaven, and if any clear thoughts were +left her, possessed with the dreadful consciousness of having by her +last deposition murdered her own near kin. Her own ruin was complete +already. But another trial, that of her brothers and the bold +Carmelite, would now begin. She may in her remorse have been tempted +to soften Girard, to keep him from proceeding against them, above all +to save herself from being put to the torture. Girard, at any rate, +took advantage of her utter weakness, and behaved like the determined +scoundrel he really was. + +Alas! her wandering spirit came but slowly back to her. It was on the +6th March that she had to face her accusers, to renew her former +admissions, to ruin her brethren beyond repair. She could not speak; +she was choking. The commissioners had the kindness to tell her that +the torture was there, at her side; to describe to her the wooden +horse, the points of iron, the wedges for jamming fast her bones. Her +courage failed her, so weak she was now of body. She submitted to be +set before her cruel master, who might laugh triumphant now that he +had debased not only her body, but yet more her conscience, by making +her the murderess of her own friends. + +No time was lost in profiting by her weakness. They prevailed +forthwith on the Parliament of Aix to let the Carmelite and the two +brothers be imprisoned, that they might undergo a separate trial for +their lives, as soon as Cadire should have been condemned. + +On the 10th March, she was dragged from the Ursulines of Toulon to +Sainte-Claire of Ollioules. Girard, however, was not sure of her yet. +He got leave to have her conducted, like some dreaded highway robber, +between some soldiers of the mounted police. He demanded that she +should be carefully locked up at Sainte-Claire. The ladies were moved +to tears at the sight of a poor sufferer who could not drag herself +forward, approaching between those drawn swords. Everyone pitied her. +Two brave men, M. Aubin, a solicitor, and M. Claret, a notary, drew up +for her the deeds in which she withdrew her late confession, fearful +documents that record the threats of the commissioners and of the +Ursuline prioress, and above all, the fact of the drugged wine she had +been forced to drink. + +At the same time these daring men drew up for the Chancellor's court +at Paris a plea of error, as it is called, exposing the irregular and +blameable proceedings, the wilful breaches of the law, effected in the +coolest way, first by the bishop's officer and the King's Lieutenant, +secondly by the two commissioners. The Chancellor D'Aguesseau showed +himself very slack and feeble. He let these foul proceedings stand; +left the business in charge of the Parliament of Aix, sullied as it +already seemed to be by the disgrace with which two of its members had +just been covering themselves. + +So once more they laid hands on their victim, and had her dragged, in +charge as before of the mounted police, from Ollioules to Aix. In +those days people slept at a public house midway. Here the corporal +explained that, by virtue of his orders, he would sleep in the young +girl's room. They pretended to believe that an invalid unable to walk, +might flee away by jumping out of window. Truly, it was a most +villanous device, to commit such a one to the chaste keeping of the +heroes of the _dragonnades_.[115] Happily, her mother had come to see +her start, had followed her in spite of everything, and they did not +dare to beat her away with their butt-ends. She stayed in the room, +kept watch--neither of them, indeed, lying down--and shielded her +child from all harm. + + [115] Alluding to the cruelties dealt on the Huguenots by the + French dragoons, at the close of Louis the Fourteenth's + reign.--TRANS. + +Cadire was forwarded to the Ursulines of Aix, who had the King's +command to take her in charge. But the prioress pretended that the +order had not yet come. We may see here how savage a woman who was +once impassioned will grow, until she has lost all her woman's nature. +She kept the other four hours at her street-door, as if she were a +public show. There was time to fetch a mob of Jesuits' followers, of +honest Church artizans, to hoot and hiss, while children might help by +throwing stones. For these four hours she was in the pillory. Some, +however, of the more dispassionate passers-by asked if the Ursulines +had gotten orders to let them kill the girl. We may guess what tender +jailers their sick prisoner would find in these good sisters! + +The ground was prepared with admirable effect. By a spirited concert +between Jesuit magistrates and plotting ladies, a system of deterring +had been set on foot. No pleader would ruin himself by defending a +girl thus heavily aspersed. No one would digest the poisonous things +stored up by her jailers, for him who should daily show his face in +their parlour to await an interview with Cadire. The defence in that +case would devolve on M. Chaudon, syndic of the Aix bar. He did not +decline so hard a duty. And yet he was so uneasy as to desire a +settlement, which the Jesuits refused. Thereupon he showed what he +really was, a man of unswerving honesty, of amazing courage. He +exposed, with the learning of a lawyer, the monstrous character of the +whole proceeding. So doing, he would for ever embroil himself with +the Parliament no less than the Jesuits. He brought into sharp outline +the spiritual incest of the confessor, though he modestly refrained +from specifying how far he had carried his profligacy. He also +withheld himself from speaking of Girard's girls, the loose-lived +devotees, as a matter well-known, but to which no one would have liked +to bear witness. In short, he gave Girard the best case he could by +assailing him _as a wizard_. People laughed, made fun of the advocate. +He undertook to prove the existence of demons by a series of sacred +texts, beginning with the Gospels. This made them laugh the louder. + +The case had been cleverly disfigured by the turning of an honest +Carmelite into Cadire's lover, and the weaver of a whole chain of +libels against Girard and the Jesuits. Thenceforth the crowd of +idlers, of giddy worldlings, scoffers and philosophers alike, made +merry with either side, being thoroughly impartial as between +Carmelite and Jesuit, and exceedingly rejoiced to see this battle of +monk with monk. Those who were presently to be called _Voltairites_, +were even better inclined towards the polished Jesuits, those men of +the world, than towards any of the old mendicant orders. + +So the matter became more and more tangled. Jokes kept raining down, +but raining mostly on the victim. They called it a love-intrigue. They +saw in it nothing but food for fun. There was not a scholar nor a +clerk who did not turn a ditty on Girard and his pupil, who did not +hash up anew the old provincial jokes about Madeline in the Gauffridi +affair, her six thousand imps, their dread of a flogging, and the +wonderful chastening-process whereby Cadire's devils were put to +flight. + +On this latter point the friends of Girard had no difficulty in +proving him clean. He had acted by his right as director, in +accordance with the common wont. The rod is the symbol of fatherhood. +He had treated his penitent with a view to the healing of her soul. +They used to thrash demoniacs, to thrash the insane and sufferers in +other ways. This was the favourite mode of hunting out the enemy, +whether in the shape of devil or disease. With the people it was a +very common idea. One brave workman of Toulon, who had witnessed +Cadire's sad plight, declared that a bull's sinew was the poor +sufferer's only cure. + +Thus strongly supported, Girard had only to act reasonably. He would +not take the trouble. His defence is charmingly flippant. He never +deigns even to agree with his own depositions. He gives the lie to his +own witnesses. He seems to be jesting, and says, with the coolness of +a great lord of the Regency, that if, as they charge him, he was ever +shut up with her, "it could only have happened nine times." + +"And why did the good father do so," would his friends say, "save to +watch, to consider, to search out the truth concerning her? 'Tis the +confessor's duty in all such cases. Read the life of the most holy +Catherine of Genoa. One evening her confessor hid himself in her room, +waiting to see the wonders she would work, and to catch her in the act +miraculous. But here, unhappily, the Devil, who never sleeps, had laid +a snare for this lamb of God, had belched forth this devouring monster +of a she-dragon, this mixture of maniac and demoniac, to swallow him +up, to overwhelm him in a cataract of slander." + +It was an old and excellent custom to smother monsters in the cradle. +Then why not later also? Girard's ladies charitably advised the +instant using against her of fire and sword. "Let her perish!" cried +the devotees. Many of the great ladies also wished to have her +punished, deeming it rather too bad that such a creature should have +dared to enter such a plea, to bring into court the man who had done +her but too great an honour. + +Some determined Jansenists there were in the Parliament, but these +were more inimical to the Jesuits than friendly to the girl. And they +might well be downcast and discouraged, seeing they had against them +at once the terrible Society of Jesus, the Court of Versailles, the +Cardinal Minister (Fleury), and, lastly, the drawing-rooms of Aix. +Should they be bolder than the head of the law, the Chancellor +D'Aguesseau, who had proved so very slack? The Attorney-General did +not waver at all: being charged with the indictment of Girard, he +avowed himself his friend, advised him how to meet the charges +against him. + +There was, indeed, but one question at issue, to ascertain by what +kind of reparation, of solemn atonement, of exemplary chastening, the +plaintiff thus changed into the accused might satisfy Girard and the +Company of Jesus. The Jesuits, with all their good-nature, affirmed +the need of an example, in the interests of religion, by way of some +slight warning both to the Jansenist Convulsionaries and the +scribbling philosophers who were beginning to swarm. + +There were two points by which Cadire might be hooked, might receive +the stroke of the harpoon. + +Firstly, she had borne false witness. But, then, by no law could +slander be punished with death. To gain that end you must go a little +further, and say, "The old Roman text, _De famosis libellis_, +pronounces death on those who have uttered libels hurtful to the +Emperor or to _the religion_ of the Empire. The Jesuits represent that +religion. Therefore, a memorial against a Jesuit deserves the last +penalty." + +A still better handle, however, was their second. At the opening of +the trial the episcopal judge, the prudent Larmedieu, had asked her if +she had never _divined_ the secrets of many people, and she had +answered yes. Therefore they might charge her with the practice named +in the list of forms employed in trials for witchcraft, as _Divination +and imposture_. This alone in ecclesiastic law deserved the stake. +They might, indeed, without much effort, call her a _Witch_, after +the confession made by the Ollioules ladies, that at one same hour of +the night she used to be in several cells together. Their infatuation, +the surprising tenderness that suddenly came over them, had all the +air of an enchantment. + +What was there to prevent her being burnt? They were still burning +everywhere in the eighteenth century. In one reign only, that of +Philip V., sixteen hundred people were burnt in Spain: one Witch was +burnt as late as 1782. In Germany one was burnt in 1751; in +Switzerland one also in 1781. Rome was always burning her victims, on +the sly indeed, in the dark holes and cells of the Inquisition.[116] + + [116] This fact comes to us from an adviser to the Holy + Office, still living. + +"But France, at least, is surely more humane?" She is very +inconsistent. In 1718, a Wizard is burnt at Bordeaux.[117] In 1724 and +1726, the faggots were lighted in Grve for offences which passed as +schoolboy jokes at Versailles. The guardians of the Royal child, the +Duke and Fleury, who are so indulgent to the Court, are terrible to +the town. A donkey-driver and a noble, one M. des Chauffours, are +burnt alive. The advent of the Cardinal Minister could not be +celebrated more worthily than by a moral reformation, by making a +severe example of those who corrupted the people. Nothing more timely +than to pass some terrible and solemn sentence on this infernal girl, +who made so heinous an assault on the innocent Girard! + + [117] I am not speaking of executions done by the people of + their own accord. A hundred years ago, in a village of + Provence, an old woman on being refused alms by a landowner, + said in her fury, "You will be dead to-morrow." He was + smitten and died. The whole village, high and low, seized the + old woman, and set her on a bundle of vine-twigs. She was + burnt alive. The Parliament made a feint of inquiring, but + punished nobody.--[In 1751 an old couple of Tring, in + Hertfordshire, according to Wright, were tortured, kicked, + and beaten to death, on the plea of witchcraft, by a maddened + country mob.--TRANS.] + +Observe what was needed to wash that father clean. It was needful to +show that, even if he had done wrong and imitated Des Chauffours, he +had been the sport of some enchantment. The documents were but too +plain. By the wording of the Canon Law, and after these late decrees, +somebody ought to be burnt. Of the five magistrates on the bench, two +only would have burnt Girard. Three were against Cadire. They came to +terms. The three who formed the majority would not insist on burning +her, would forego the long, dreadful scene at the stake, would content +themselves with a simple award of death. + +In the name of these five, it was settled, pending the final assent of +Parliament, "That Cadire, having first been put to the torture in +both kinds, should afterwards be removed to Toulon, and suffer death +by hanging on the Place des Prcheurs." + +This was a dreadful blow. An immense revulsion of feeling at once took +place. The worldlings, the jesters ceased to laugh: they shuddered. +Their love of trifling did not lead them to slur over a result so +horrible. That a girl should be seduced, ill-used, dishonoured, +treated as a mere toy, that she should die of grief, or of frenzy, +they had regarded as right and good; with all that they had no +concern. But when it was a case of punishment, when in fancy they saw +before them the woeful victim, with rope round her neck, by the +gallows where she was about to hang, their hearts rose in revolt. From +all sides went forth the cry, "Never, since the world began, was there +seen so villanous a reversal of things; the law of rape administered +the wrong way, the girl condemned for having been made a tool, the +victim hanged by her seducer!" + +In this town of Aix, made up of judges, priests, and the world of +fashion, a thing unforeseen occurred: a whole people suddenly rose, a +violent popular movement was astir. A crowd of persons of every class +marched in one close well-ordered body straight towards the Ursulines. +Cadire and her mother were bidden to show themselves. "Make yourself +easy, mademoiselle," they shouted: "we stand by you: fear nothing!" + +The grand eighteenth century, justly called by Hegel the "reign of +mind," was still grander as the "reign of humanity." Ladies of +distinction, such as the granddaughter of Mde. de Svign, the +charming Madame de Simiane, took possession of the young girl and +sheltered her in their bosoms. + +A thing yet prettier and more touching was it, to see the Jansenist +ladies, elsewhile so sternly pure, so hard towards each other, in +their austerities so severe, now in this great conjuncture offer up +Law on the altar of Mercy, by flinging their arms round the poor +threatened child, purifying her with kisses on the forehead, baptizing +her anew in tears. + +If Provence be naturally wild, she is all the more wonderful in these +wild moments of generosity and real greatness. Something of this was +later seen in the earliest triumphs of Mirabeau, when he had a million +of men gathered round him at Marseilles. But here already was a great +revolutionary scene, a vast uprising against the stupid Government of +the day, and Fleury's pets the Jesuits: a unanimous uprising in behalf +of humanity, of compassion, in defence of a woman, a very child, thus +barbarously offered up. The Jesuits fancied that among their own +rabble, among their clients and their beggars, they might array a kind +of popular force, armed with handbells and staves to beat back the +party of Cadire. This latter, however, included almost everyone. +Marseilles rose up as one man to bear in triumph the son of the +Advocate Chaudon. Toulon went so far for the sake of her poor +townswoman, as to think of burning the Jesuit college. + +The most touching of all these tokens in Cadire's favour, reached +her from Ollioules. A simple boarder, Mdlle. Agnes, for all her +youthful shyness, followed the impulse of her own heart, threw herself +into the press of pamphlets, and published a defence of Cadire. + +So widespread and deep a movement had its effect on the Parliament +itself. The foes of the Jesuits raised their heads, took courage to +defy the threats of those above, the influence of the Jesuits, and the +bolts that Fleury might hurl upon them from Versailles.[118] + + [118] There is a laughable tale which expresses the state of + Parliament with singular nicety. The Recorder was reading his + comments on the trial, on the share the Devil might have had + therein, when a loud noise was heard. A black man fell down + the chimney. In their fright they all ran away, save the + Recorder only, who, being entangled in his robe, could not + move. The man made some excuse. It was simply a chimneysweep + who had mistaken his chimney. + +The very friends of Girard, seeing their numbers fall off, their +phalanx grow thin, were eager for the sentence. It was pronounced on +the 11th October, 1731. + +In sight of the popular feeling, no one dared to follow up the savage +sentence of the bench, by getting Cadire hanged. Twelve councillors +sacrificed their honour, by declaring Girard innocent. Of the twelve +others, some Jansenists condemned him to the flames as a wizard; and +three or four, with better reason, condemned him to death as a +scoundrel. Twelve being against twelve, the President Lebret had to +give the casting vote. He found for Girard. Acquitted of the capital +crime of witchcraft, the latter was then made over, as priest and +confessor, to the Toulon magistrate, his intimate friend Larmedieu, +for trial in the bishop's court. + +The great folk and the indifferent ones were satisfied. And so little +heed was given to this award, that even in these days it has been said +that "both were _acquitted_." The statement is not correct. Cadire +was treated as a slanderer, was condemned to see her memorials and +other papers burnt by the hand of the executioner. + +There was still a dreadful something in the background. Cadire being +so marked, so branded for the use of calumny, the Jesuits were sure to +keep pushing underhand their success with Cardinal Fleury, and to urge +her being punished in some secret, arbitrary way. Such was the notion +imbibed by the town of Aix. It felt that, instead of sending her home, +Parliament would rather _yield her up_. This caused so fearful a rage, +such angry menaces, against President Lebret, that he asked to have +the regiment of Flanders sent thither. + +Girard was fleeing away in a close carriage, when they found him out +and would have killed him, had he not escaped into the Jesuits' +Church. There the rascal betook himself to saying mass. After his +escape thence he returned to Dle, to reap honour and glory from the +Society. Here, in 1733, he died, _in the perfume of holiness_. The +courtier Lebret died in 1735. + +Cardinal Fleury did whatever the Jesuits pleased. At Aix, Toulon, +Marseilles, many were banished, or cast into prison. Toulon was +specially guilty, as having borne Girard's effigy to the doors of his +_Girardites_, and carried about the thrice holy standard of the +Jesuits. + +According to the terms of the award, Cadire should have been free to +return home, to live again with her mother. But I venture to say that +she was never allowed to re-enter her native town, that flaming +theatre wherein so many voices had been raised in her behalf. + +If only to feel an interest in her was a crime deserving imprisonment, +we cannot doubt but that she herself was presently thrown into prison; +that the Jesuits easily obtained a special warrant from Versailles to +lock up the poor girl, to hush up, to bury with her an affair so +dismal for themselves. They would wait, of course, until the public +attention was drawn off to something else. Thereon the fatal clutch +would have caught her anew; she would have been buried out of sight in +some unknown convent, snuffed out in some dark _In pace_. + +She was but one-and-twenty at the time of the award, and she had +always hoped to die soon. May God have granted her that mercy![119] + + [119] Touching this matter, Voltaire is very flippant: he + scoffs at both parties, especially the Jansenists. The + historians of our own day, MM. Cabasse, Fabre, Mry, not + having read the _Trial_, believe themselves impartial, while + they are bearing down the victim. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + +A woman of genius, in a burst of noble tenderness, has figured to +herself the two spirits whose strife moulded the Middle Ages, as +coming at last to recognise each other, to draw together, to renew +their olden friendship. Looking closer at each other, they discern, +though somewhat late, the marks of a common parentage. How if they +were indeed brethren, and this long battle nought but a mistake? Their +hearts speak, and they are softened. The haughty outlaw and the gentle +persecutor have forgotten everything: they dart forward and throw +themselves into each other's arms.--(_Consuelo._) + +A charming, womanly idea. Others, too, have dreamed the same dream. +The sweet Montanelli turned it into a beautiful poem. Ay, who would +not welcome the delightful hope of seeing the battle here hushed down +and finished by an embrace so moving? + +What does the wise Merlin think of it? In the mirror of his lake, +whose depths are known to himself only, what did he behold? What said +he in the colossal epic produced by him in 1860? Why, that Satan will +not disarm, if disarm he ever do, until the Day of Judgment. Then, +side by side, at peace with each other, the two will fall asleep in a +common death. + + * * * * * + +It is not so hard, indeed, to bend them into a kind of compromise. The +weakening, relaxing effects of so long a battle allow of their +mingling in a certain way. In the last chapter we saw two shadows +agreeing to form an alliance in deceit; the Devil appearing as the +friend of Loyola, devotees and demoniacs marching abreast, Hell +touched to softness in the Sacred Heart. + +It is a quiet time now, and people hate each other less than formerly. +They hate few indeed but their own friends. I have seen Methodists +admiring Jesuits. Those lawyers and physicians whom the Church in the +Middle Ages called the children of Satan, I have seen making shrewd +covenant with the old conquered Spirit. + +But get we away from these pretences. They who gravely propose that +Satan should make peace and settle down, have they thought much about +the matter? + +There is no hindrance as regards ill-will. The dead are dead. The +millions of former victims sleep in peace, be they Albigenses, +Vaudois, or Protestants, Moors, Jews, or American Indians. The Witch, +universal martyr of the Middle Ages, has nought to say. Her ashes have +been scattered to the winds. + +Know you, then, what it is that raises a protest, that keeps these two +spirits steadily apart, preventing them from coming nearer? It is a +huge reality, born five hundred years ago; a gigantic creation +accursed by the Church, even that mighty fabric of science and modern +institutions, which she excommunicated stone by stone, but which with +every anathema has grown a storey higher. You cannot name one science +which has not been itself a rebellion. + +There is but one way of reconciling the two spirits, of joining into +one the two churches. Demolish the younger, that one which from its +first beginning was pronounced guilty and doomed as such. Let us, if +we can, destroy the natural sciences, the observatory, the museum, the +botanical garden, the schools of medicine, and all the modern +libraries. Let us burn our laws, our bodies of statutes, and return to +the Canon Law. + +All these novelties came of Satan. Each step forward has been a crime +of his doing. + +He was the wicked logician who, despising the clerical law, preserved +and renewed that of jurists and philosophers, grounded on an impious +faith, on the freedom of the will. + +He was that dangerous magician who, while men were discussing the sex +of angels and other questions of like sublimity, threw himself +fiercely on realities, and created chemistry, physics, mathematics--ay, +even mathematics. He sought to revive them, and that was rebellion. +People were burnt for saying that three made three. + +Medicine especially was a Satanic thing, a rebellion against disease, +the scourge so justly dealt by God. It was clearly sinful to check the +soul on its way towards heaven, to plunge it afresh into life! + +What atonement shall we make for all this? How are we to put down, to +overthrow, this pile of insurrections, whereof at this moment all +modern life is made up? Will Satan destroy his work, that he may tread +once more the way of angels? That work rests on three everlasting +rocks, Reason, Right, and Nature. + + * * * * * + +So great is the triumph of the new spirit, that he forgets his +battles, hardly at this moment deigns to remember that he has won. + +It were not amiss to remind him of his wretched beginnings, how +coarsely mean, how rude and painfully comic were the shapes he wore in +the season of persecution, when through a woman, even the unhappy +Witch, he made his first homely flights in science. Bolder than the +heretic, the half-Christian reasoner, the scholar who kept one foot +within the sacred circle, this woman eagerly escaped therefrom, and +under the open sunlight tried to make herself an altar of rough +moorland stones. + +She has perished, as she was certain to perish. By what means? Chiefly +by the progress of those very sciences which began with her, through +the physician, the naturalist, for whom she had once toiled. + +The Witch has perished for ever, but not the Fay. She will reappear in +the form that never dies. + +Busied in these latter days with the affairs of men, Woman has in +return given up her rightful part, that of the physician, the +comforter, the healing Fairy. Herein lies her proper priesthood--a +priesthood that does belong to her, whatever the Church may say. + +Her delicate organs, her fondness for the least detail, her tender +consciousness of life, all invite her to become Life's shrewd +interpreter in every science of observation. With her tenderly pitiful +heart, her power of divining goodness, she goes of her own accord to +the work of doctoring. There is but small difference between children +and sick people. For both of them we need the Woman. + +She will return into the paths of science, whither, as a smile of +nature, gentleness and humanity will enter by her side. + +The Anti-natural is growing dim, nor is the day far off when its +eclipse will bring back daylight to the earth. + + * * * * * + +The gods may vanish, but God is still there. Nay, but the less we see +of them, the more manifest is He. He is like a lighthouse eclipsed at +moments, but alway shining again more clearly than before. + +It is a remarkable thing to see Him discussed so fully, even in the +journals themselves. People begin to feel that all questions of +education, government, childhood, and womanhood, turn on that one +ruling and underlying question. As God is, so must the world be. + +From this we gather that the times are ripe. + + * * * * * + +So near, indeed, is that religious dayspring that I seemed momently to +see it breaking over the desert where I brought this book to an end. + +How full of light, how rough and beautiful looked this desert of mine! +I had made my nest on a rock in the mighty roadstead of Toulon, in a +lowly villa surrounded with aloe and cypress, with the prickly pear +and the wild rose. Before me was a spreading basin of sparkling sea; +behind me the bare-topt amphitheatre, where, at their ease, might sit +the Parliament of the world. + +This spot, so very African, bedazzles you in the daytime with +flashings as of steel. But of a winter morning, especially in +December, it seemed full of a divine mystery. I was wont to rise +exactly at six o'clock, when the signal for work was boomed from the +Arsenal gun. From six to seven I enjoyed a delicious time of it. The +quick--may I call it piercing?--twinkle of the stars made the moon +ashamed, and fought against the daybreak. Before its coming, and +during the struggle between two lights, the wonderful clearness of the +air would let things be seen and heard at incredible distances. Two +leagues away I could make everything out. The smallest detail about +the distant mountains, a tree, a cliff, a house, a bend in the ground, +was thrown out with the most delicate sharpness. New senses seemed to +be given me. I found myself another being, released from bondage, free +to soar away on my new wings. It was an hour of utter purity, all hard +and clear. I said to myself, "How is this? Am I still a man?" + +An unspeakable bluish hue, respected, left untouched by the rosy dawn, +hung round me like a sacred ether, a spirit that made all things +spiritual. + +One felt, however, a forward movement, through changes soft and slow. +The great marvel was drawing nearer, to shine forth and eclipse all +other things. It came on in its own calm way: you felt no wish to +hurry it. The coming transfiguration, the expected witcheries of the +light, took not a whit away from the deep enjoyment of being still +under the divinity of night, still, as it were, half-hidden, and slow +to emerge from so wonderful a spell.... Come forth, O Sun! We worship +thee while yet unseen, but will reap all of good we yet may from these +last moments of our dream! + +He is about to break forth. In hope let us await his welcome. + + +THE END. + + + + +LIST OF LEADING AUTHORITIES. + + +Graesse, _Bibliotheca Magi_, Leipsic, 1843. + +_Magie Antique_--as edited by Soldan, A. Maury, &c. + +Calcagnini, _Miscell., Magia Amatoria Antiqua_, 1544. + +J. Grimm, _German Mythology_. + +_Acta Sanctorum._--Acta SS. Ordinis S. Benedicti. + +Michael Psellus, _Energie des Dmons_, 1050. + +Csar of Heisterbach, _Illustria Miracula_, 1220. + +_Registers of the Inquisition_, 1307-1326, in Limburch; and the +extracts given by Magi, Llorente, Lamothe-Langon, &c. + +_Directorium._ Eymerici, 1358. + +Llorente, _The Spanish Inquisition_. + +Lamothe-Langon, _Inquisition de France_. + +_Handbooks of the Monk-Inquisitors of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth +Centuries_: Nider's _Formicarius_; Sprenger's _Malleus_. + +C. Bernardus's _Lucerna_; Spina, Grillandus, &c. + +H. Corn. Agripp _Opera_, Lyons. + +Paracelsi _Opera_. + +Wyer, _De Prestigiis Dmonum_, 1569. + +Bodin, _Dmonomanie_, 1580. + +Remigius, _Demonolatria_, 1596. + +Del Rio, _Disquisitiones Magic_, 1599. + +Boguet, _Discours des Sorciers_, Lyons, 1605. + +Leloyer, _Histoire des Spectres_, Paris, 1605. + +Lancre, _Inconstance_, 1612: _Incredulit_, 1622. + +Michalis, _Histoire d'une Pnitente, &c._, 1613. + +Tranquille, _Relation de Loudun_, 1634. + +_Histoire des Diables de Loudun_ (by Aubin), 1716. + +_Histoire de Madeleine Bavent_, de Louviers, 1652. + +_Examen de Louviers. Apologie de l'Examen_ (by Yvelin), 1643. + +_Procs du P. Girard et de la Cadire_; Aix, 1833. + +_Pices relatives ce Procs_; 5 vols., Aix, 1833. + +_Factum, Chansons, relatifs, &c._ MSS. in the Toulon Library. + +Eugne Salverte, _Sciences Occultes_, with Introduction by Littr. + +A. Maury, _Les Fes_, 1843; _Magie_, 1860. + +Soldan, _Histoire des Procs de Sorcellerie_, 1843. + +Thos. Wright, _Narratives of Sorcery, &c._, 1851. + +L. Figuier, _Histoire du Merveilleux_, 4 vols. + +Ferdinand Denis, _Sciences Occultes: Monde Enchant_. + +_Histoire des Sciences au Moyen Age_, by Sprenger, Pouchet, Cuvier, &c. + + +Printed by Woodfall and Kinder, Angel Court, Skinner Street, London. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of La Sorcire: The Witch of the Middle +Ages, by Jules Michelet + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA SORCIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 31420-8.txt or 31420-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/4/2/31420/ + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: La Sorcire: The Witch of the Middle Ages + +Author: Jules Michelet + +Translator: Lionel James Trotter + +Release Date: February 27, 2010 [EBook #31420] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA SORCIRE *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>LA SORCIÈRE.</h1> + +<p class="author">J. MICHELET.</p> + +<p class="printer"> +LONDON:<br /> +PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER,<br /> +ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET. +</p> + + + +<h1 class="witch">THE WITCH OF THE MIDDLE AGES.</h1> + +<p class="author2">FROM THE FRENCH OF J. MICHELET.</p> + +<p class="author2">BY L. J. TROTTER.</p> + + +<hr class="title1" /> +<p class="center">(<i>The only Authorized English Translation.</i>)</p> +<hr class="title2" /> + +<p class="publisher"> +LONDON:<br /> +<span style="letter-spacing: 0.20ex">SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO.,</span><br /> +STATIONERS’ HALL COURT.<br /> +MDCCCLXIII. +</p> + + + +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">In</span> this translation of a work rich in the raciest +beauties and defects of an author long since made known +to the British public, the present writer has striven to +recast the trenchant humour, the scornful eloquence, +the epigrammatic dash of Mr. Michelet, in language +not all unworthy of such a word-master. How far he +has succeeded others may be left to judge. In one +point only is he aware of having been less true to his +original than in theory he was bound to be. He has +slurred or slightly altered a few of those passages +which French readers take as a thing of course, but +English ones, because of their different training, are +supposed to eschew. A Frenchman, in short, writes +for men, an Englishman rather for drawing-room +ladies, who tolerate grossness only in the theatres and +the columns of the newspapers. Mr. Michelet’s subject, +and his late researches, lead him into details, moral and +physical, which among ourselves are seldom mixed up +with themes of general talk. The coarsest of these +have been pruned away, but enough perhaps remain +to startle readers of especial prudery. The translator,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span> +however, felt that he had no choice between shocking +these and sinning against his original. Readers of a +larger culture will make allowance for such a strait, +will not be so very frightened at an amount of plain-speaking, +neither in itself immoral, nor, on the whole, +impertinent. Had he docked his work of everything +condemned by prudish theories, he might have made +it more conventionally decent; but Michelet would +have been puzzled to recognize himself in the poor +maimed cripple that would then have borne his name.</p> + +<p>Nor will a reader of average shrewdness mistake the +religious drift of a book suppressed by the Imperial +underlings in the interests neither of religion nor of +morals, but merely of Popery in its most outrageous +form. If its attacks on Rome seem, now and then, to +involve Christianity itself, we must allow something +for excess of warmth, and something for the nature of +inquiries which laid bare the rotten outgrowths of a +religion in itself the purest known among men. In +studying the so-called Ages of Faith, the author has +only found them worthy of their truer and older title, +the Ages of Darkness. It is against the tyranny, +feudal and priestly, of those days, that he raises an +outcry, warranted almost always by facts which a more +mawkish philosophy refuses to see. If he is sometimes +hasty and onesided; if the Church and the Feudal +System of those days had their uses for the time being; +it is still a gain to have the other side of the subject<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span> +kept before us by way of counterpoise to the doctrines +now in vogue. We need not be intolerant; but Rome +is yet alive.</p> + +<p>Taken as a whole, Mr. Michelet’s book cannot be +called unchristian. Like most thoughtful minds of +the day, he yearns for some nobler and larger creed +than that of the theologians; for a creed which, understanding +Nature, shall reconcile it with Nature’s God. +Nor may he fairly be called irreverent for talking, +Frenchman like, of things spiritual with the same +freedom as he would of things temporal. Perhaps in +his heart of hearts he has nearly as much religious +earnestness as they who call Dr. Colenso an infidel, +and shake their heads at the doubtful theology of +Frederic Robertson. At any rate, no translator who +should cut or file away so special a feature of French +feeling would be doing justice to so marked an +original.</p> + +<p>For English readers who already know the concise +and sober volumes of their countryman, Mr. Wright, +the present work will offer mainly an interesting study +of the author himself. It is a curious compound of +rhapsody and sound reason, of history and romance, of +coarse realism and touching poetry, such as, even in +France, few save Mr. Michelet could have produced. +Founded on truth and close inquiry, it still reads more +like a poem than a sober history. As a beautiful +speculation, which has nearly, but not quite, grasped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> +the physical causes underlying the whole history of +magic and illusion in all ages, it may be read with +profit as well as pleasure in this age of vulgar spirit-rapping. +But the true history of Witchcraft has yet +to be written by some cooler hand.</p> + +<p class="right">L. T.</p> + +<p style="padding-left: 2em"><i>May 11th, 1863.</i></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></h2> + + +<table summary="contents"> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="ral"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#INTRODUCTION">Introduction</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">To One Wizard Ten Thousand Witches</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Witch was the sole Physician of the People</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Terrorism of the Middle Ages</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Witch was the Offspring of Despair</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">She in her Turn created Satan</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Satan, Prince of the World, Physician, Innovator</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">His School—of Witches, Shepherds, and Headsmen</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">His Decline</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><hr class="tab" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="book" colspan="2"><a href="#BOOK_I">BOOK I.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Chapter I.—The Death of the Gods</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Christianity thought the World was Dying</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The World of Demons</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Bride of Corinth</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Chapter II.—Why the Middle Ages fell into Despair</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The People make their own Legends</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">But are forbidden to do so any more</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The People guard their Territory</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">But are made Serfs</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_40">40</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Chapter III.—The Little Devil of the Fireside</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Ancient Communism of the <i>Villa</i></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Hearth made independent</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Wife of the Serf</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Her Loyalty to the Olden Gods</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Goblin</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Chapter IV.—Temptations</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Serf invokes the Spirit of Hidden Treasures</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Feudal Raids</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Wife turns her Goblin into a Devil</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Chapter V.—Possession</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Advent of Gold in 1300</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Woman makes Terms with the Demon of Gold</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Impure Horrors of the Middle Ages</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Village Lady</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Hatred of the Lady of the Castle</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Chapter VI.—The Covenant</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Woman-serf gives Herself up to the Devil</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Moor and the Witch</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Chapter VII.—The King of the Dead</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The dear Dead are brought back to Earth</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Idea of Satan is softened</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Chapter VIII.—The Prince of Nature</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Thaw in the Middle Ages</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Witch calls forth the East</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">She conceives Nature</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Chapter IX.—The Devil a Physician</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Diseases of the Middle Ages</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The <i>Comforters</i>, or Solaneæ</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Middle Ages anti-natural</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_128">128</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Chapter X.—Charms and Philtres</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Blue-Beard and Griselda</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Witch consulted by the Castle</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Her Malice</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Chapter XI.—The Rebels’ Communion—Sabbaths—The Black Mass</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The old Half-heathen Sabasies</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Four Acts of the Black Mass</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Act I. The Introit, the Kiss, the Banquet</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Act II. The Offering: the Woman as Altar and Host</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Chapter XII.—The Sequel—Love and Death—Satan Disappears</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Act III. Love of near Kindred</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Act IV. Death of Satan and the Witch</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> + + +<tr><td colspan="2"><hr class="tab" /></td></tr> +<tr><td class="book" colspan="2"><a href="#BOOK_II">BOOK II.</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I_2">Chapter I.—The Witch in her Decline—Satan multiplied and made Common</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Witches and Wizards employed by the Great</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Wolf-lady</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The last Philtre</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II_2">Chapter II.—Persecutions</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Hammer for Witches</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Satan Master of the World</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III_2">Chapter III.—Century of Toleration in France: Reaction</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Spain begins when France stops short</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Reaction: French Lawyers burn as many as the Priests</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV_2">Chapter IV.—The Witches of the Basque Country</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">They give Instructions to their own Judges</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_212">212</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V_2">Chapter V.—Satan turns Priest</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Jokes of the Modern Sabbath</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI_2">Chapter VI.—Gauffridi: 1610</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Wizard Priests prosecuted by Monks</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Jealousies of the Nuns</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII_2">Chapter VII.—The Demoniacs of Loudun: Urban Grandier</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Vicar a fine Speaker, and a Wizard</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Sickly Rages of the Nuns</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII_2">Chapter VIII.—The Demoniacs of Louviers—Madeline Bavent</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Illuminism: the Devil a Quietist</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Fight between the Devil and the Doctor</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX_2">Chapter IX.—The Devil Triumphs in the Seventeenth Century</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X_2">Chapter X.—Father Girard and La Cadière</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI_2">Chapter XI.—Cadière in the Convent</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_339">339</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII_2">Chapter XII.—Trial of Cadière</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_367">367</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="chap"><a href="#EPILOGUE">Epilogue</a></td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_395">395</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Can Satan and Jesus be reconciled?</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_396">396</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">The Witch is dead, but the Fairy will live again</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_399">399</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="subchap">Oncoming of the Religious Revival</td><td class="ral"><a href="#Page_399">399</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">It</span> was said by Sprenger, before the year 1500, +“<i>Heresy of witches</i>, not of wizards, must we call it, +for these latter are of very small account.” And by +another, in the time of Louis XIII.: “To one wizard, +ten thousand witches.”</p> + +<p>“Witches they are by nature.” It is a gift peculiar +to woman and her temperament. By birth a +fay, by the regular recurrence of her ecstasy she +becomes a sibyl. By her love she grows into an +enchantress. By her subtlety, by a roguishness often +whimsical and beneficent, she becomes a Witch; she +works her spells; does at any rate lull our pains to +rest and beguile them.</p> + +<p>All primitive races have the same beginning, as so +many books of travel have shown. While the man is +hunting and fighting, the woman works with her wits, +with her imagination: she brings forth dreams and +gods. On certain days she becomes a seeress, borne +on boundless wings of reverie and desire. The better +to reckon up the seasons, she watches the sky; but +her heart belongs to earth none the less. Young and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +flower-like herself, she looks down toward the enamoured +flowers, and forms with them a personal acquaintance. +As a woman, she beseeches them to heal +the objects of her love.</p> + +<p>In a way so simple and touching do all religion and +all science begin. Ere long everything will get parcelled +out; we shall mark the beginning of the professional +man as juggler, astrologer, or prophet, necromancer, +priest, physician. But at first the woman +is everything.</p> + +<p>A religion so strong and hearty as that of Pagan +Greece begins with the Sibyl to end in the Witch. The +former, a lovely maiden in the broad daylight, rocked +its cradle, endowed it with a charm and glory of its +own. Presently it fell sick, lost itself in the darkness +of the Middle Ages, and was hidden away by the Witch +in woods and wilds: there, sustained by her compassionate +daring, it was made to live anew. Thus, of +every religion woman is the mother, the gentle guardian, +the faithful nurse. With her the gods fare like +men: they are born and die upon her bosom.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Alas! her loyalty costs her dear. Ye magian queens +of Persia; bewitching Circe; sublime Sibyl! Into +what have ye grown, and how cruel the change that +has come upon you! She who from her throne in the +East taught men the virtues of plants and the courses +of the stars; who, on her Delphic tripod beamed over +with the god of light, as she gave forth her oracle to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +world upon its knees;—she also it is whom, a thousand +years later, people hunt down like a wild beast; following +her into the public places, where she is dishonoured, +worried, stoned, or set upon the burning +coals!</p> + +<p>For this poor wretch the priesthood can never have +done with their faggots, nor the people with their +insults, nor the children with their stones. The poet, +childlike, flings her one more stone, for a woman the +cruellest of all. On no grounds whatever, he imagines +her to have been always old and ugly. The word +“witch” brings before us the frightful old women of +<i>Macbeth</i>. But their cruel processes teach us the +reverse of that. Numbers perished precisely for being +young and beautiful.</p> + +<p>The Sibyl foretold a fortune, the Witch accomplishes +one. Here is the great, the true difference between +them. The latter calls forth a destiny, conjures it, +works it out. Unlike the Cassandra of old, who +awaited mournfully the future she foresaw so well, this +woman herself creates the future. Even more than +Circe, than Medea, does she bear in her hand the rod +of natural miracle, with Nature herself as sister and +helpmate. Already she wears the features of a modern +Prometheus. With her industry begins, especially +that queen-like industry which heals and restores +mankind. As the Sibyl seemed to gaze upon the +morning, so she, contrariwise, looks towards the west; +but it is just that gloomy west, which long before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +dawn—as happens among the tops of the Alps—gives +forth a flush anticipant of day.</p> + +<p>Well does the priest discern the danger, the bane, +the alarming rivalry, involved in this priestess of nature +whom he makes a show of despising. From the +gods of yore she has conceived other gods. Close to +the Satan of the Past we see dawning within her a +Satan of the Future.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The only physician of the people for a thousand +years was the Witch. The emperors, kings, popes, +and richer barons had indeed their doctors of Salerno, +their Moors and Jews; but the bulk of people in every +state, the world as it might well be called, consulted +none but the <i>Saga</i>, or wise-woman. When she could +not cure them, she was insulted, was called a Witch. +But generally, from a respect not unmixed with fear, +she was called good lady or fair lady (<i>belle dame</i>—<i>bella +donna</i><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>), the very name we give to the fairies.</p> + +<p>Soon there came upon her the lot which still befalls +her favourite plant, belladonna, and some other wholesome +poisons which she employed as antidotes to the +great plagues of the Middle Ages. Children and +ignorant passers-by would curse those dismal flowers +before they knew them. Affrighted by their questionable +hues, they shrink back, keep far aloof from +them. And yet among them are the <i>comforters</i> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>(Solaneæ) which, when discreetly employed, have cured +so many, have lulled so many sufferings to sleep.</p> + +<p>You find them in ill-looking spots, growing all +lonely and ill-famed amidst ruins and rubbish-heaps. +Therein lies one other point of resemblance between +these flowers and her who makes use of them. For +where else than in waste wildernesses could live the poor +wretch whom all men thus evilly entreated; the woman +accursed and proscribed as a poisoner, even while she +used to heal and save; as the betrothed of the Devil +and of evil incarnate, for all the good which, according +to the great physician of the Renaissance, she herself +had done? When Paracelsus, at Basle, in 1527, +threw all medicine into the fire,<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> he avowed that he +knew nothing but what he had learnt from witches.</p> + +<p>This was worth a requital, and they got it. They +were repaid with tortures, with the stake. For them +new punishments, new pangs, were expressly devised. +They were tried in a lump; they were condemned by +a single word. Never had there been such wastefulness +of human life. Not to speak of Spain, that classic +land of the faggot, where Moor and Jew are always +accompanied by the Witch, there were burnt at Trèves +seven thousand, and I know not how many at Toulouse; +five hundred at Geneva in three months of +1513; at Wurtzburg eight hundred, almost in one +batch, and fifteen hundred at Bamberg; these two +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>latter being very small bishoprics! Even Ferdinand +II., the savage Emperor of the Thirty Years’ War, was +driven, bigot as he was, to keep a watch on these worthy +bishops, else they would have burned all their subjects. +In the Wurtzburg list I find one Wizard a schoolboy, +eleven years old; a Witch of fifteen: and at Bayonne +two, infernally beautiful, of seventeen years.</p> + +<p>Mark how, at certain seasons, hatred wields this one +word <i>Witch</i>, as a means of murdering whom she will. +Woman’s jealousy, man’s greed, take ready hold of so +handy a weapon. Is such a one wealthy? <i>She is a +Witch.</i> Is that girl pretty? <i>She is a Witch.</i> You +will even see the little beggar-woman, La Murgui, +leave a death-mark with that fearful stone on the +forehead of a great lady, the too beautiful dame of +Lancinena.</p> + +<p>The accused, when they can, avert the torture by +killing themselves. Remy, that excellent judge of +Lorraine, who burned some eight hundred of them, +crows over this very fear. “So well,” said he, “does +my way of justice answer, that of those who were arrested +the other day, sixteen, without further waiting, +strangled themselves forthwith.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Over the long track of my History, during the +thirty years which I have devoted to it, this frightful +literature of witchcraft passed to and fro repeatedly +through my hands. First I exhausted the manuals of +the Inquisition, the asinine foolings of the Dominicans.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +(<i>Scourges</i>, <i>Hammers</i>, <i>Ant-hills</i>, <i>Floggings</i>, <i>Lanterns</i>, +&c., are the titles of their books.) Next, I read the +Parliamentarists, the lay judges who despised the +monks they succeeded, but were every whit as foolish +themselves. One word further would I say of them +here: namely, this single remark, that, from 1300 to +1600, and yet later, but one kind of justice may be +seen. Barring a small interlude in the Parliament of +Paris, the same stupid savagery prevails everywhere, +at all hours. Even great parts are of no use here. +As soon as witchcraft comes into question, the fine-natured +De Lancre, a Bordeaux magistrate and forward +politician under Henry IV., sinks back to the level of +a Nider, a Sprenger; of the monkish ninnies of the +fifteenth century.</p> + +<p>It fills one with amazement to see these different +ages, these men of diverse culture, fail in taking the +least step forward. Soon, however, you begin clearly +to understand how all were checked alike, or let us +rather say blinded, made hopelessly drunk and savage, +by the poison of their guiding principle. That principle +lies in the statement of a radical injustice: “On +account of one man all are lost; are not only punished +but worthy of punishment; <i>depraved and perverted +beforehand</i>, dead to God even before their birth. The +very babe at the breast is damned.”</p> + +<p>Who says so? Everyone, even Bossuet himself. A +leading doctor in Rome, Spina, a Master of the Holy +Palace, formulates the question neatly: “Why does God<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +suffer the innocent to die?—For very good reasons: +even if they do not die on account of their own sins, +they are always liable to death as guilty of the original +sin.” (<i>De Strigibus</i>, ch. 9.)</p> + +<p>From this atrocity spring two results, the one pertaining +to justice, the other to logic. The judge is +never at fault in his work: the person brought before +him is certainly guilty, the more so if he makes a +defence. Justice need never beat her head, or work +herself into a heat, in order to distinguish the truth +from the falsehood. Everyhow she starts from a foregone +conclusion. Again, the logician, the schoolman, +has only to analyse the soul, to take count of the +shades it passes through, of its manifold nature, its +inward strifes and battles. He had no need, as we +have, to explain how that soul may grow wicked step +by step. At all such niceties and groping efforts, how, +if even he could understand them, would he laugh and +wag his head! And, oh! how gracefully then would +quiver those splendid ears which deck his empty skull!</p> + +<p>Especially in treating of the <i>compact with the Devil</i>, +that awful covenant whereby, for the poor profit of one +day, the spirit sells itself to everlasting torture, we of +another school would seek to trace anew that road +accursed, that frightful staircase of mishaps and crimes, +which had brought it to a depth so low. Much, however, +cares our fine fellow for all that! To him soul +and Devil seem born for each other, insomuch that on +the first temptation, for a whim, a desire, a passing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +fancy, the soul will throw itself at one stroke into so +horrible an extremity.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Neither do I find that the moderns have made much +inquiry into the moral chronology of witchcraft. They +cling too much to the connection between antiquity and +the Middle Ages; connection real indeed, but slight, of +small importance. Neither from the magician of old, +nor the seeress of Celts and Germans, comes forth the +true Witch. The harmless “Sabasies” (from Bacchus +Sabasius), and the petty rural “Sabbath” of the +Middle Ages, have nothing to do with the Black Mass +of the fourteenth century, with the grand defiance +then solemnly given to Jesus. This fearful conception +never grew out of a long chain of tradition. It leapt +forth from the horrors of the day.</p> + +<p>At what date, then, did the Witch first appear? I +say unfalteringly, “In the age of despair:” of that +deep despair which the gentry of the Church engendered. +Unfalteringly do I say, “The Witch is a crime +of their own achieving.”</p> + +<p>I am not to be taken up short by the excuses which +their sugary explanations seem to furnish. “Weak +was that creature, and giddy, and pliable under temptation. +She was drawn towards evil by her lust.” +Alas! in the wretchedness, the hunger of those days, +nothing of that kind could have ruffled her even into +a hellish rage. An amorous woman, jealous and forsaken, +a child hunted out by her step-mother, a mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +beaten by her son (old subjects these of story), if +such as they were ever tempted to call upon the Evil +Spirit, yet all this would make no Witch. These poor +creatures may have called on Satan, but it does not +follow that he accepted them. They are still far, ay, +very far from being ripe for him. They have not yet +learned to hate God.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>For the better understanding of this point, you +should read those hateful registers which remain to us +of the Inquisition, not only in the extracts given by +Llorente, by Lamothe-Langon, &c., but in what remains +of the original registers of Toulouse. Read +them in all their flatness, in all their dryness, so dismal, +so terribly savage. At the end of a few pages +you feel yourself stricken with a chill; a cruel shiver +fastens upon you; death, death, death, is traceable in +every line. Already you are in a bier, or else in a stone +cell with mouldy walls. Happiest of all are the killed. +The horror of horrors is the <i>In pace</i>. This phrase it +is which comes back unceasingly, like an ill-omened +bell sounding again and again the heart’s ruin of the +living dead: always we have the same word, “Immured.”</p> + +<p>Frightful machinery for crushing and flattening; +most cruel press for shattering the soul! One turn of +the screw follows another, until, all breathless, and +with a loud crack, it has burst forth from the machine +and fallen into the unknown world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>On her first appearance the Witch has neither father +nor mother, nor son, nor husband, nor family. She is +a marvel, an aerolith, alighted no one knows whence. +Who, in Heaven’s name, would dare to draw near her?</p> + +<p>Her place of abode? It is in spots impracticable, +in a forest of brambles, on a wild moor where thorn +and thistle intertwining forbid approach. The night +she passes under an old cromlech. If anyone finds her +there, she is isolated by the common dread; she is +surrounded, as it were, by a ring of fire.</p> + +<p>And yet—would you believe it?—she is a woman +still. This very life of hers, dreadful though it be, +tightens and braces her woman’s energy, her womanly +electricity. Hence, you may see her endowed with two +gifts. One is the <i>inspiration of lucid frenzy</i>, which +in its several degrees, becomes poesy, second-sight, +depth of insight, cunning simplicity of speech, the +power especially of believing in yourself through all +your delusions. Of such a gift the man, the wizard, +knows nothing. On his side no beginning would have +been made.</p> + +<p>From this gift flows that other, the sublime power +of <i>unaided conception</i>, that parthenogenesis which our +physiologists have come to recognise, as touching fruitfulness +of the body in the females of several species; +and which is not less a truth with regard to the conceptions +of the spirit.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>By herself did she conceive and bring forth—what?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +A second self, who resembles her in his self-delusions. +The son of her hatred, conceived upon her love; for +without love can nothing be created. For all the alarm +this child gave her, she has become so well again, is +so happily engrossed with this new idol, that she +places it straightway upon her altar, to worship it, +yield her life up to it, and offer herself up as a living +and perfect sacrifice. Very often she will even say to +her judge, “There is but one thing I fear; that I +shall not suffer enough for him.”—(<i>Lancre.</i>)</p> + +<p>Shall I tell you what the child’s first effort was? It +was a fearful burst of laughter. Has he not cause for +mirth on his broad prairie, far away from the Spanish +dungeons and the “immured” of Toulouse? The +whole world is his <i>In pace</i>. He comes, and goes, and +walks to and fro. His is the boundless forest, his the +desert with its far horizons, his the whole earth, in the +fulness of its teeming girdle. The Witch in her tenderness +calls him “<i>Robin mine</i>,” the name of that +bold outlaw, the joyous Robin Hood, who lived under +the green bowers. She delights too in calling him +fondly by such names as <i>Little Green</i>, <i>Pretty-Wood</i>, +<i>Greenwood</i>; after the little madcap’s favourite haunts. +He had hardly seen a thicket when he took to playing +the truant.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>What astounds one most is, that at one stroke the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>Witch should have achieved an actual Being. He +bears about him every token of reality. We have +heard and seen him; anyone could draw his likeness.</p> + +<p>The Saints, those darling sons of the house, with +their dreams and meditations make but little stir; +<i>they look forward waitingly</i>, as men assured of their +part in Elysium. What little energy they have is all +centred in the narrow round of <i>Imitation</i>; a word +which condenses the whole of the Middle Ages. He +on the other hand—this accursed bastard whose only lot +is the scourge—has no idea of waiting. He is always +seeking and will never rest. He busies himself with +all things between earth and heaven. He is exceedingly +curious; will dig, dive, ferret, and poke his nose +everywhere. At the <i>consummatum est</i> he only laughs, +the little scoffer! He is always saying “Further,” or +“Forward.” Moreover, he is not hard to please. He +takes every rebuff; picks up every windfall. For instance, +when the Church throws out nature as impure +and doubtworthy, Satan fastens on her for his own +adornment. Nay, more; he employs her, and makes +her useful to him as the fountain-head of the arts; +thus accepting the awful name with which others +would brand him; to wit, the <i>Prince of the World</i>.</p> + +<p>Some one rashly said, “Woe to those who laugh.” +Thus from the first was Satan intrusted with too pretty +a part; he had the sole right of laughing, and of declaring +it an <i>amusement</i>—rather let us say <i>a necessity</i>; +for laughing is essentially a natural function. Life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +would be unbearable if we could not laugh, at least in +our afflictions.</p> + +<p>Looking on life as nothing but a trial, the Church +is careful not to prolong it. Her medicine is resignation, +the looking for and the hope of death. A broad field +this for Satan! He becomes the physician, the healer +of the living. Better still, he acts as comforter: he is +good enough to shew us our dead, to call up the shades +of our beloved.</p> + +<p>One more trifle the Church rejected, namely, logic +or free reason. Here was a special dainty, to which +<i>the other</i> greedily helped himself. The Church had +carefully builded up a small <i>In pace</i>, narrow, low-roofed, +lighted by one dim opening, a mere cranny. +That was called <i>The School</i>. Into it were turned +loose a few shavelings, with this commandment, “Be +free.” They all fell lame. In three or four centuries +the paralysis was confirmed, and Ockham’s standpoint +is the very same as Abélard’s.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<p>It is pleasant to track the Renaissance up to such a +point. The Renaissance took place indeed, but how? +Through the Satanic daring of those who pierced the +vault, through the efforts of the damned who were +bent on seeing the sky. And it took place yet more +largely away from the schools and the men of letters, +in the <i>School of the Bush</i>, where Satan had set up a +class for the Witch and the shepherd.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> +<p>Perilous teaching it was, if so it happened; but the +very dangers of it heightened the eager passion, the +uncontrollable yearning to see and to know. Thus +began those wicked sciences, physic debarred from +poisoning, and that odious anatomy. There, along +with his survey of the heavens, the shepherd who kept +watch upon the stars applied also his shameful nostrums, +made his essays upon the bodies of animals. +The Witch would bring out a corpse stolen from the +neighbouring cemetery; and, for the first time, at risk +of being burned, you might gaze upon that heavenly +wonder, “which men”—as M. Serres has well said—“are +foolish enough to bury, instead of trying to +understand.”</p> + +<p>Paracelsus, the only doctor whom Satan admitted +there, saw yet a third worker, who, stealing at times +into that dark assembly, displayed there his surgical +art. This was the surgeon of those happy days, the +headsman stout of hand, who could play patly enough +with the fire, could break bones and set them again; +who if he killed, would sometimes save, by hanging +one only for a certain time.</p> + +<p>By the more sacrilegious of its essays this convict +university of witches, shepherds, and headsmen, emboldened +the other, obliged its rival to study. For +everyone wanted to live. The Witch would have got hold +of everything: people would for ever have turned their +backs on the doctor. And so the Church was fain to +suffer, to countenance these crimes. She avowed he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>r +belief in <i>good poisons</i> (Grillandus). She found herself +driven and constrained to allow of public dissections. +In 1306 one woman, in 1315 another, was opened and +dissected by the Italian Mondino. Here was a holy +revelation, the discovery of a greater world than that +of Christopher Columbus! Fools shuddered or howled; +but wise men fell upon their knees.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>With such conquests the Devil was like enough to +live on. Never could the Church alone have put an +end to him. The stake itself was useless, save for +some political objects.</p> + +<p>Men had presently the wit to cleave Satan’s realm +in twain. Against the Witch, his daughter, his bride, +they armed his son, the doctor. Heartily, utterly as +the Church loathed the latter, yet to extinguish the +Witch, she established his monopoly nevertheless. In +the fourteenth century she proclaimed, that any woman +who dared to heal others <i>without having duly studied</i>, +was a witch and should therefore die.</p> + +<p>But how was she to study in public? Fancy what +a scene of mingled fun and horror would have occurred, +if the poor savage had risked an entrance into +the schools! What games and merry-makings there +would have been! On Midsummer Day they used to +chain cats together and burn them in the fire. But to +tie up a Witch in that hell of caterwaulers, a Witch +yelling and roasting, what fun it would have been for +that precious crew of monklings and cowlbearers!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>In due time we shall see the decline of Satan. Sad +to tell, we shall find him pacified, turned into <i>a good +old fellow</i>. He will be robbed and plundered, until of +the two masks he wore at the Sabbath, the dirtiest is +taken by Tartuffe. His spirit is still everywhere, but +of his bodily self, in losing the Witch he lost all. The +wizards were only wearisome.</p> + +<p>Now that we have hurled him so far downwards, +are we fully aware of what has happened? Was he +not an important actor, an essential item in the great +religious machine just now slightly out of gear? All +organisms that work properly are twofold, twosided. +Life can otherwise not go on at all. It is a kind of +balance between two forces, opposite, symmetrical, +but unequal; the lower answering to the other as its +counterpoise. The higher chafes at it, seeks to put it +down. So doing, it is all wrong.</p> + +<p>When Colbert, in 1672, got rid of Satan, with very +little ceremony, by forbidding the judges to entertain +pleas of witchcraft, the sturdy Parliament of Normandy +with its sound Norman logic pointed out the dangerous +drift of such a decision. The Devil is nothing less +than a dogma holding on to all the rest. If you +meddle with the Eternally Conquered, are you not +meddling with the Conqueror likewise? To doubt the +acts of the former, leads to doubting the acts of the +second, the miracles he wrought for the very purpose +of withstanding the Devil. The pillars of heaven are +grounded in the Abyss. He who thoughtlessly removes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +that base infernal, may chance to split up Paradise +itself.</p> + +<p>Colbert could not listen, having other business to +mind. But the Devil perhaps gave heed and was +comforted. Amidst such minor means of earning a +livelihood as spirit-rapping or table-turning, he grows +resigned, and believes at least that he will not die +alone.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Whence our old word <i>Beldam</i>, the more courteous meaning +of which is all but lost in its ironical one.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Alluding to the bonfire which Paracelsus, as professor of +medicine, made of the works of Galen and Avicenna.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Here, as in some other passages, the play of words in +the original is necessarily lost.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Abélard flourished in the twelfth, William of Ockham +(pupil of Duns Scotus) in the fourteenth century.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="BOOK_I" id="BOOK_I"></a>BOOK I.</h2> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE DEATH OF THE GODS.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Certain</span> authors have declared that, shortly before +the triumph of Christianity, a voice mysterious ran +along the shores of the Ægean Sea, crying, “Great +Pan is dead!” The old universal god of nature was +no more; and great was the joy thereat. Men fancied +that with the death of nature temptation itself was +dead. After the troublings of so long a storm, the +soul of man was at length to find rest.</p> + +<p>Was it merely a question touching the end of that +old worship, its overthrow, and the eclipse of old +religious rites? By no means. Consult the earliest +Christian records, and in every line you may read the +hope, that nature is about to vanish, life to be extinguished; +that the end of the world, in short, is very +near. It is all over with the gods of life, who have +spun out its mockeries to such a length. Everything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +is falling, breaking up, rushing down headlong. +The whole is becoming as nought: “Great Pan is +dead!”</p> + +<p>It was nothing new that the gods must perish. +Many an ancient worship was grounded in that very +idea. Osiris, Adonis die indeed in order to rise again. +On the stage itself, in plays which were only acted +for the feast days of the gods, Æschylus expressly +averred by the mouth of Prometheus, that some day +they should suffer death: but how? As conquered +and laid low by the Titans, the ancient powers of +nature.</p> + +<p>Here, however, things are quite otherwise. Alike +in generals and particulars, in the past and the future, +would the early Christians have cursed Nature herself. +So utterly did they condemn her, as to find the Devil +incarnate in a flower. Swiftly may the angels come +again, who erst overwhelmed the cities of the Dead +Sea! Oh, that they may sweep off, may crumple up as +a veil the hollow frame of this world; may at length +deliver the saints from their long trial!</p> + +<p>The Evangelist said, “The day is coming:” the +Fathers, “It is coming immediately.” From the +breaking-up of the Empire and the invasion of the +Barbarians, St. Augustin draws the hope that very +soon no city would remain but the city of God.</p> + +<p>And yet, how hard of dying is the world; how +stubbornly bent on living! Like Hezekiah, it begs +a respite, one turn more of the dial. Well, then, be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +it so until the year one thousand. But thereafter, +not one day.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Are we quite sure of what has been so often +repeated, that the gods of old had come to an end, +themselves wearied and sickened of living; that they +were so disheartened as almost to send in their resignation; +that Christianity had only to blow upon these +empty shades?</p> + +<p>They point to the gods in Rome; they point out +those in the Capitol, admitted there only by a kind of +preliminary death, on the surrender, I might say, of +all their local pith; as having disowned their country, +as having ceased to be the representative spirits of the +nations. In order to receive them, indeed, Rome had +performed on them a cruel operation: they were +enervated, bleached. Those great centralized deities +became in their official life the mournful functionaries +of the Roman Empire. But the decline of that +Olympian aristocracy had in no wise drawn down +the host of home-born gods, the mob of deities still +keeping hold of the boundless country-sides, of the +woods, the hills, the fountains; still intimately blended +with the life of the country. These gods abiding in +the heart of oaks, in waters deep and rushing, could +not be driven therefrom.</p> + +<p>Who says so? The Church. She rudely gainsays +her own words. Having proclaimed their death, she +is indignant because they live. Time after time, by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +the threatening voice of her councils<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> she gives +them notice of their death—and lo! they are living still.</p> + +<p>“They are devils.”—Then they must be alive. +Failing to make an end of them, men suffer the +simple folk to clothe, to disguise them. By the help +of legends they come to be baptized, even to be foisted +upon the Church. But at least they are converted? +Not yet. We catch them stealthily subsisting in their +own heathen character.</p> + +<p>Where are they? In the desert, on the moor, in +the forest? Ay; but, above all, in the house. They are +kept up by the most intimate household usages. The +wife guards and hides them in her household things, +even in her bed. With her they have the best place +in the world, better than the temple,—the fireside.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Never was revolution so violent as that of Theodosius. +Antiquity shows no trace of such proscription +of any worship. The Persian fire-worshipper might, +in the purity of his heroism, have insulted the visible +deities, but he let them stand nevertheless. He +greatly favoured the Jews, protecting and employing +them. Greece, daughter of the light, made merry +with the gods of darkness, the tunbellied Cabiri; but +yet she bore with them, adopted them as workmen, +even to shaping out of them her own Vulcan. Rome +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>in her majesty welcomed not only Etruria, but even +the rural gods of the old Italian labourer. She persecuted +the Druids, but only as the centre of a dangerous +national resistance.</p> + +<p>Christianity conquering sought and thought to slay +the foe. It demolished the schools, by proscribing +logic and uprooting the philosophers, whom Valens +slaughtered. It razed or emptied the temples, shivered +to pieces the symbols. The new legend would have +been propitious to the family, had the father not been +cancelled in Saint Joseph; had the mother been set +up as an educatress, as having morally brought forth +Jesus. A fruitful road there was, but abandoned at +the very outset through the effort to attain a high but +barren purity.</p> + +<p>So Christianity turned into that lonely path where +the world was going of itself; the path of a celibacy +in vain opposed by the laws of the emperors. Down +this slope it was hurled headlong by the establishment +of monkery.</p> + +<p>But in the desert was man alone? The Devil kept +him company with all manner of temptations. He +could not help himself, he was driven to create anew +societies, nay whole cities of anchorites. We all know +those dismal towns of monks which grew up in the +Thebaid; how wild, unruly a spirit dwelt among them; +how deadly were their descents on Alexandria. They +talked of being troubled, beset by the Devil; and they +told no lie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>A huge gap was made in the world; and who was +to fill it? The Christians said, The Devil, everywhere +the Devil: <i>ubique dæmon</i>.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> + +<p>Greece, like all other nations, had her <i>energumens</i>, +who were sore tried, possessed by spirits. The relation +there is quite external; the seeming likeness is +really none at all. Here we have no spirits of any +kind: they are but black children of the Abyss, the +ideal of waywardness. Thenceforth we see them +everywhere, those poor melancholics, loathing, shuddering +at their own selves. Think what it must be to +fancy yourself double, to believe in that <i>other</i>, that +cruel host who goes and comes and wanders within +you, making you roam at his pleasure among deserts, +over precipices! You waste and weaken more and +more; and the weaker grows your wretched body, the +more is it worried by the devil. In woman especially +these tyrants dwell, making her blown and swollen. +They fill her with an infernal <i>wind</i>, they brew in her +storms and tempests, play with her as the whim seizes +them, drive her to wickedness, to despair.</p> + +<p>And not ourselves only, but all nature, alas! becomes +demoniac. If there is a devil in the flower, how +much more in the gloomy forest! The light we think +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>so pure teems with children of the night. The +heavens themselves—O blasphemy!—are full of hell. +That divine morning star, whose glorious beams not +seldom lightened a Socrates, an Archimedes, a Plato, +what is it now become? A devil, the archfiend +Lucifer. In the eventime again it is the devil Venus +who draws me into temptation by her light so soft and +mild.</p> + +<p>That such a society should wax wroth and terrible +is not surprising. Indignant at feeling itself so weak +against devils, it persecutes them everywhere, in the +temples, at the altars once of the ancient worship, +then of the heathen martyrs. Let there be more +feasts?—they will likely be so many gatherings of idolaters. +The Family itself becomes suspected: for +custom might bring it together round the ancient +Lares. And why should there be a family?—the +empire is an empire of monks.</p> + +<p>But the individual man himself, thus dumb and +isolated though he be, still watches the sky, still +honours his ancient gods whom he finds anew in the +stars. “This is he,” said the Emperor Theodosius, +“who causes famines and all the plagues of the +empire.” Those terrible words turned the blind rage +of the people loose upon the harmless Pagan. Blindly +the law unchained all its furies against the law.</p> + +<p>Ye gods of Eld, depart into your tombs! Get ye +extinguished, gods of Love, of Life, of Light! Put +on the monk’s cowl. Maidens, become nuns. Wives,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +forsake your husbands; or, if ye will look after the +house, be unto them but cold sisters.</p> + +<p>But is all this possible? What man’s breath shall +be strong enough to put out at one effort the burning +lamp of God? These rash endeavours of an impious +piety may evoke miracles strange and monstrous. +Tremble, guilty that ye are!</p> + +<p>Often in the Middle Ages will recur the mournful +tale of the Bride of Corinth. Told at a happy moment +by Phlegon, Adrian’s freedman, it meets us again in the +twelfth, and yet again in the sixteenth century, as the +deep reproof, the invincible protest of nature herself.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“A young man of Athens went to Corinth, to the +house of one who had promised him his daughter. +Himself being still a heathen, he knew not that the +family which he thought to enter had just turned +Christian. It is very late when he arrives. They are +all gone to rest, except the mother, who serves up for +him the hospitable repast and then leaves him to sleep. +Dead tired, he drops down. Scarce was he fallen +asleep, when a figure entered the room: ’tis a girl all +clothed and veiled in white; on her forehead a fillet of +black and gold. She sees him. In amazement she +lifts her white hand: ‘Am I, then, such a stranger in +the house already? Alas, poor recluse!... But I +am ashamed, and withdraw. Sleep on.’</p> + +<p>“‘Stay, fair maiden! Here are Bacchus, Ceres, and +with thee comes Love. Fear not, look not so pale!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>’</p> + +<p>“‘Ah! Away from me, young man! I have nothing +more to do with happiness. By a vow my +mother made in her sickness my youth and my life are +bound for ever. The gods have fled, and human +victims now are our only sacrifices.’</p> + +<p>“‘Ha! can it be thou, thou, my darling betrothed, +who wast given me from my childhood? The oath of +our fathers bound us for evermore under the blessing +of heaven. Maiden, be mine!’</p> + +<p>“‘No, my friend, not I. Thou shalt have my +younger sister. If I moan in my chilly dungeon, do +thou in her arms think of me, of me wasting away +and thinking only of thee; of me whom the earth is +about to cover again.’</p> + +<p>“‘Nay, I swear by this flame, the torch of Hymen, +thou shalt come home with me to my father. Rest +thee, my own beloved.’</p> + +<p>“As a wedding-gift he offers her a cup of gold. She +gives him her chain, but instead of the cup desires a +curl of his hair.</p> + +<p>“It is the hour of spirits; her pale lip drinks up the +dark blood-red wine. He too drinks greedily after +her. He calls on the god of Love. She still resisted, +though her poor heart was dying thereat. But he +grows desperate, and falls weeping on the couch. +Anon she throws herself by his side.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh! how ill thy sorrow makes me! Yet, if thou +wast to touch me—— Oh, horror!—white as the snow, +and cold as ice, such, ah me! is thy bride.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>’</p> + +<p>“‘I will warm thee again: come to me, wert thou +come from the very grave.’</p> + +<p>“Sighs and kisses many do they exchange.</p> + +<p>“‘Dost thou feel how warm I am?’</p> + +<p>“Love twines and holds them fast. Tears mingle +with their joy. She changes with the fire she drinks +from his mouth: her icy blood is aglow with passion; +but the heart in her bosom will not beat.</p> + +<p>“But the mother was there listening. Soft vows, +cries of wailing and of pleasure.</p> + +<p>“‘Hush, the cock is crowing: to-morrow night!’ +Then with kiss on kiss they say farewell.</p> + +<p>“In wrath the mother enters; sees what? Her +daughter. He would have hidden her, covered her +up. But freeing herself from him, she grew from +the couch up to the roof.</p> + +<p>“‘O mother, mother, you grudge me a pleasant +night; you would drive me from this cosy spot! Was +it not enough to have wrapped me in my winding-sheet +and borne me to the grave? A greater power +has lifted up the stone. In vain did your priests +drone over the trench they dug for me. Of what use +are salt and water, where burns the fire of youth? +The earth cannot freeze up love. You made a promise; +I have just reclaimed my own.</p> + +<p>“‘Alas, dear friend, thou must die: thou wouldst +but pine and dry up here. I have thy hair; it will +be white to-morrow.... Mother, one last prayer! +Open my dark dungeon, set up a stake, and let the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +loving one find rest in the flames. Let the sparks fly +upward and the ashes redden. We will go to our +olden gods.’”<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> See Mansi, Baluze; Council of Arles, 442; of Tours, 567; +of Leptines, 743; the Capitularies, &c., and even Gerson, +about 1400.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> See the Lives of the Desert Fathers, and the authors +quoted by A. Maurie, <i>Magie</i>, 317. In the fourth century, the +Messalians, thinking themselves full of devils, spat and blew +their noses without ceasing; made incredible efforts to spit +them forth.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Here I have suppressed a shocking phrase. Goethe, so +noble in the form, is not so in the spirit of his poem. He spoils +the marvel of the legend by sullying the Greek conception +with a horrible Slavish idea. As they are weeping, he turns +the maiden into a vampire. She comes because she thirsts for +blood, that she may suck the blood from his heart. And he +makes her coldly say this impious and unclean thing: “When +I have done with him, I will pass on to others: the young +blood shall fall a prey to my fury.” +</p><p> +In the Middle Ages this story put on a grotesque garb, by +way of frightening us with the <i>Devil Venus</i>. On the finger of +her statue a young man imprudently places a ring, which she +clasps tight, guarding it like a bride, and going in the night +to his couch, to assert her rights. He cannot rid himself of +his infernal spouse without an exorcism. The same tale, +foolishly applied to the Virgin, is found in the <i>Fabliaux</i>. If +my memory does not mislead me, Luther also, in his “Table +Talk,” takes up the old story in a very coarse way, till you +quite smell the body. The Spanish Del Rio shifts the scene of +it to Brabant. The bride dies shortly before her marriage; +the death-bells are rung. The bridegroom rushed wildly over +the country. He hears a wail. It is she herself wandering +about the heath. “Seest thou not”—she says—“who leads +me?” But he catches her up and bears her home. At this +point the story threatened to become too moving; but the hard +inquisitor, Del Rio, cuts the thread. “On lifting her veil,” +says he, “they found only a log of wood covered with the skin +of a corpse.” The Judge le Loyer, silly though he be, has +restored the older version. +</p><p> +Thenceforth these gloomy taletellers come to an end. The +story is useless when our own age begins; for then the bride +has triumphed. Nature comes back from the grave, not by +stealth, but as mistress of the house.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>WHY THE MIDDLE AGES FELL INTO DESPAIR.</h3> + + +<p class="noind">“<span class="smcap">Be</span> ye as newborn babes (<i>quasi modo geniti infantes</i>); +be thoroughly childlike in the innocence of your hearts; +peaceful, forgetting all disputes, calmly resting under +the hand of Christ.” Such is the kindly counsel +tendered by the Church to this stormy world on the +morning after the great fall. In other words: “Volcanoes, +ruins, ashes, and lava, become green. Ye +parched plains, get covered with flowers.”</p> + +<p>One thing indeed gave promise of the peace that +reneweth: the schools were all shut up, the way of +logic forsaken. A method infinitely simple for the +doing away with argument, offered all men a gentle +slope, down which they had nothing to do but go. If +the creed was doubtful, the life was all traced out in +the pathway of the legend. From first to last but the +one word <i>Imitation</i>.</p> + +<p>“Imitate, and all will go well. Rehearse and copy.” +But is this the way to that true childhood which quickens +the heart of man, which leads back to its fresh and +fruitful springs? In this world that is to make us +young and childlike, I see at first nothing but the +tokens of age; only cunning, slavishness, want of power.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +What kind of literature is this, confronted with the +glorious monuments of Greeks and Jews? We have +just the same literary fall as happened in India from +Brahminism to Buddhism; a twaddling flow of words +after a noble inspiration. Books copy from books, +churches from churches, until they cannot so much as +copy. They pillage from each other: Aix-la-Chapelle +is adorned with the marbles torn from Ravenna. It is +the same with all the social life of those days. The +bishop-king of a city, the savage king of a tribe, alike +copy the Roman magistrates. Original as one might +deem them, our monks in their monasteries simply +restored their ancient <i>Villa</i>, as Chateaubriand well said. +They had no notion either of forming a new society or +of fertilizing the old. Copying from the monks of the +East, they wanted their servants at first to be themselves +a barren race of monkling workmen. It was in +spite of them that the family in renewing itself renewed +the world.</p> + +<p>Seeing how fast these oldsters keep on oldening; +how in one age we fall from the wise monk St. Benedict +down to the pedantic Benedict of Aniane;<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> we +feel that such gentry were wholly guiltless of that great +popular creation which bloomed amidst ruins; namely, +the Lives of the Saints. If the monks wrote, it was +the people made them. This young growth might +throw out some leaves and flowers from the crannies of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>an old Roman ruin turned into a convent: but most +assuredly not thence did it first arise. Its roots go +deep into the ground: sown by the people and cultivated +by the family, it takes help from every hand, +from men, from women, from children. The precarious, +troubled life of those days of violence, made these poor +folk imaginative, prone to believe in their own dreams, +as being to them full of comfort: strange dreams +withal, rich in marvels, in fooleries; absurd, but charming.</p> + +<p>These families, isolated in forests and mountains, as +we still see them in the Tyrol or the Higher Alps, and +coming down thence but once a week, never wanted for +illusions in the desert. One child had seen this, some +woman had dreamed that. A new saint began to rise. +The story went abroad in the shape of a ballad with +doggrel rhymes. They sang and danced to it of an +evening at the oak by the fountain. The priest, when +he came on Sunday to perform service in the woodland +chapel, found the legendary chant already in every +mouth. He said to himself, “After all, history is +good, is edifying.... It does honour to the Church. +<i>Vox populi, vox Dei!</i>—But how did they light upon +it?” He could be shown the true, the irrefragable +proofs of it in some tree or stone which had witnessed +the apparition, had marked the miracle. What can he +say to that?</p> + +<p>Brought back to the abbey, the tale will find a monk +good for nothing, who can only write; who is curious,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +believes everything, no matter how marvellous. It is +written out, broidered with his dull rhetoric, and spoilt +a little. But now it has come forth, confirmed and +consecrated, to be read in the refectory, ere long in +the church. Copied, loaded and overloaded with ornaments +chiefly grotesque, it will go on from age to age, +until at last it comes to take high rank in the Golden +Legend.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When those fair stories are read again to us in these +days, even as we listen to the simple, grave, artless airs +into which those rural peoples threw all their young +heart, we cannot help marking a great inspiration; +and we are moved to pity as we reflect upon their fate.</p> + +<p>They had taken literally the touching advice of the +Church: “Be ye as newborn babes.” But they gave +to it a meaning, the very last that one would dream of +finding in the original thought. As much as Christianity +feared and hated Nature, even so much did these +others cherish her, deeming her all guileless, hallowing +her even in the legends wherewith they mingled +her up.</p> + +<p>Those <i>hairy</i> animals, as the Bible sharply calls them, +animals mistrusted by the monks who fear to find +devils among them, enter in the most touching way +into these beautiful stories; as the hind, for instance, +who refreshes and comforts Geneviève of Brabant.</p> + +<p>Even outside the life of legends, in the common +everyday world, the humble friends of his hearth, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +bold helpmates of his work, rise again in man’s esteem. +They have their own laws,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> their own festivals. If in +God’s unbounded goodness there is room for the smallest +creatures, if He seems to show them a pitying preference, +“Wherefore,” says the countryman, “should +my ass not have entered the church? Doubtless, he +has his faults, wherein he only resembles me the more. +He is a rough worker, but has a hard head; is intractable, +stubborn, headstrong; in short, just like myself.”</p> + +<p>Thence come those wonderful feasts, the fairest of +the Middle Ages; feasts of <i>Innocents</i>, of <i>Fools</i>, of the +<i>Ass</i>. It is the people itself, moreover, which, in the +shape of an ass, draws about its own image, presents +itself before the altar, ugly, comical, abased. Verily, a +touching sight! Led by Balaam, he enters solemnly +between Virgil and the Sibyl;<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> enters that he may +bear witness. If he kicked of yore against Balaam, +it was that before him he beheld the sword of the ancient +law. But here the law is ended, and the world +of grace seems opening its two-leaved gate to the mean +and to the simple. The people innocently believes it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>all. Thereon comes that lofty hymn, in which it says +to the ass what it might have said to itself:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza" style="margin-bottom: 0em"> +<span class="i0">“Down on knee and say <i>Amen</i>!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grass and hay enough hast eaten.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave the bad old ways, and go!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza" style="margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em"> +<span class="i0">•<span style="padding-left: 1.5em">•</span><span style="padding-left: 1.5em">•</span> +<span style="padding-left: 1.5em">•</span><span style="padding-left: 1.5em">•</span> +<span style="padding-left: 1.5em">•</span><span style="padding-left: 1.5em">•<br /></span></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza" style="margin-top: 0em"> +<span class="i0">For the new expels the old:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadows fly before the noon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light hath hunted out the night.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>How bold and coarse ye are! Was it this we asked +of you, children rash and wayward, when we told you +to be as children? We offered you milk; you are +drinking wine. We led you softly, bridle in hand, +along the narrow path. Mild and fearful, ye hesitated +to go forward: and now, all at once, the bridle is broken; +the course is cleared at a single bound. Ah! how +foolish we were to let you make your own saints; to +dress out the altar; to deck, to burden, to cover it up +with flowers! Why, it is hardly distinguishable! And +what we do see is the old heresy condemned of the +Church, <i>the innocence of nature</i>: what am I saying?—a +new heresy, not like to end to-morrow, <i>the independence +of man</i>.</p> + +<p>Listen and obey!—You are forbidden to invent, to +create. No more legends, no more new saints: we +have had enough of them. You are forbidden to introduce +new chants in your worship: inspiration is not +allowed. The martyrs you would bring to light should +stay modestly within their tombs, waiting to be recognised +by the Church. The clergy, the monks are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +forbidden to grant the tonsure of civil freedom to +husbandmen and serfs. Such is the narrow fearful +spirit that fills the Church of the Carlovingian days.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> +She unsays her words, she gives herself the lie, she +says to the children, “Be old!”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>A fall indeed! But is this earnest? They had +bidden us all be young.—Ah! but priest and people +are no longer one. A divorce without end begins, a +gulf unpassable divides them for ever. The priest +himself, a lord and prince, will come out in his golden +cope, and chant in the royal speech of that great +empire which is no more. For ourselves, a mournful +company, bereft of human speech, of the only speech +that God would care to hear, what else can we do but +low and bleat with the guileless friends who never +scorn us, who, in winter-time will keep us warm in +their stable, or cover us with their fleeces? We will +live with dumb beasts, and be dumb ourselves.</p> + +<p>In sooth there is less need than before for our going +to church. But the church will not hold us free: she +insists on our returning to hear what we no longer +understand. Thenceforth a mighty fog, a fog heavy +and dun as lead, enwraps the world. For how long? +For a whole millennium of horror. Throughout ten +centuries, a languor unknown to all former times seizes +upon the Middle Ages, even in part on those latter +days that come midway betwixt sleep and waking, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>holds them under the sway of a visitation most irksome, +most unbearable; that convulsion, namely, of +mental weariness, which men call a fit of yawning.</p> + +<p>When the tireless bell rings at the wonted hours, +they yawn; while the nasal chant is singing in the old +Latin words, they yawn. It is all foreseen, there is +nothing to hope for in the world, everything will come +round just the same as before. The certainty of being +bored to-morrow sets one yawning from to-day; and +the long vista of wearisome days, of wearisome years to +come, weighs men down, sickens them from the first +with living. From brain to stomach, from stomach to +mouth, the fatal fit spreads of its own accord, and keeps +on distending the jaws without end or remedy. An +actual disease the pious Bretons call it, ascribing it, +however, to the malice of the Devil. He keeps crouching +in the woods, the peasants say: if anyone passes +by tending his cattle, he sings to him vespers and +other rites, until he is dead with yawning.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>To be old</i> is to be weak. When the Saracens, when +the Norsemen threaten us, what will come to us if the +people remain old? Charlemagne weeps, and the +Church weeps too. She owns that her relics fail to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>guard her altars from these Barbarian devils.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> Had +she not better call upon the arm of that wayward +child whom she was going to bind fast, the arm of that +young giant whom she wanted to paralyse? This +movement in two opposite ways fills the whole ninth +century. The people are held back, anon they are +hurled forward: we fear them and we call on them for +aid. With them and by means of them we throw up +hasty barriers, defences that may check the Barbarians, +while sheltering the priests and their saints escaped +thither from their churches.</p> + +<p>In spite of the Bald Emperor’s<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> command not to +build, there grows up a tower on the mountain. +Thither comes the fugitive, crying, “In God’s name, +take me in, at least my wife and children! Myself +with my cattle will encamp in your outer enclosure.” +The tower emboldens him and he feels himself a man. +It gives him shade, and he in his turn defends, protects +his protector.</p> + +<p>Formerly in their hunger the small folk yielded +themselves to the great as serfs; but here how great +the difference! He offers himself as a <i>vassal</i>, one who +would be called brave and valiant.<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> He gives himself +up, and keeps himself, and reserves to himself the +right of going elsewhere. “I will go further: the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>earth is large: I, too, like the rest, can rear my tower +yonder. If I have defended the outworks, I can surely +look after myself within.”</p> + +<p>Thus nobly, thus grandly arose the feudal world. +The master of the tower received his vassals with some +such words as these: “Thou shalt go when thou +willest, and if need be with my help; at least, if thou +shouldst sink in the mire, I myself will dismount to +succour thee.” These are the very words of the old +formula.<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But, one day, what do I see? Can my sight be +grown dim? The lord of the valley, as he rides about, +sets up bounds that none may overleap; ay, and +limits that you cannot see. “What is that? I don’t +understand.” That means that the manor is shut in. +“The lord keeps it all fast under gate and hinge, +between heaven and earth.”</p> + +<p>Most horrible! By virtue of what law is this <i>vassus</i> +(or <i>valiant</i> one) held to his power? People will thereon +have it, that <i>vassus</i> may also mean <i>slave</i>. In like +manner the word <i>servus</i>, meaning a <i>servant</i>, often +indeed a proud one, even a Count or Prince of the +Empire, comes in the case of the weak to signify a <i>serf</i>, +a wretch whose life is hardly worth a halfpenny.</p> + +<p>In this damnable net are they caught. But down +yonder, on his ground, is a man who avers that his land +is free, a <i>freehold</i>, a <i>fief of the sun</i>. Seated on his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>boundary-stone, with hat pressed firmly down, he looks +at Count or Emperor passing near. “Pass on, Emperor; +go thy ways! If thou art firm on thy horse, +yet more am I on my pillar. Thou mayest pass, but so +will not I: for I am Freedom.”</p> + +<p>But I lack courage to say what becomes of this man. +The air grows thick around him: he breathes less and +less freely. He seems to be <i>under a spell</i>: he cannot +move: he is as one paralysed. His very beasts grow +thin, as if a charm had been thrown over them. His +servants die of hunger. His land bears nothing now; +spirits sweep it clean by night.</p> + +<p>Still he holds on: “The poor man is a king in his +own house.” But he is not to be let alone. He gets +summoned, must answer for himself in the Imperial +Court. So he goes, like an old-world spectre, whom +no one knows any more. “What is he?” ask the +young. “Ah, he is neither a lord, nor a serf! Yet +even then is he nothing?”</p> + +<p>“Who am I? I am he who built the first tower, he +who succoured you, he who, leaving the tower, went +boldly forth to meet the Norse heathens at the bridge. +Yet more, I dammed the river, I tilled the meadow, +creating the land itself by drawing it God-like out of +the waters. From this land who shall drive me?”</p> + +<p>“No, my friend,” says a neighbour—“you shall +not be driven away. You shall till this land, but in a +way you little think for. Remember, my good fellow, +how in your youth, some fifty years ago, you were rash<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +enough to wed my father’s little serf, Jacqueline. +Remember the proverb, ‘He who courts my hen is my +cock.’ You belong to my fowl-yard. Ungird yourself; +throw away your sword! From this day forth +you are my serf.”</p> + +<p>There is no invention here. The dreadful tale recurs +incessantly during the Middle Ages. Ah, it was a +sharp sword that stabbed him. I have abridged and +suppressed much, for as often as one returns to these +times, the same steel, the same sharp point, pierces +right through the heart.</p> + +<p>There was one among them who, under this gross +insult, fell into so deep a rage that he could not bring +up a single word. It was like Roland betrayed. His +blood all rushed upwards into his throat. His flaming +eyes, his mouth so dumb, yet so fearfully eloquent, +turned all the assembly pale. They started back. He +was dead: his veins had burst. His arteries spurted +the red blood over the faces of his murderers.<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The doubtful state of men’s affairs, the frightfully +slippery descent by which the freeman becomes a +vassal, the vassal a servant, and the servant a serf,—in +these things lie the great terror of the Middle Ages, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>and the depth of their despair. There is no way of +escape therefrom; for he who takes one step is lost. +He is an <i>alien</i>, a <i>stray</i>, a <i>wild beast of the chase</i>. The +ground grows slimy to catch his feet, roots him, as he +passes, to the spot. The contagion in the air kills +him; he becomes a thing <i>in mortmain</i>, a dead creature, +a mere nothing, a beast, a soul worth twopence-halfpenny, +whose murder can be atoned for by twopence-halfpenny.</p> + +<p>These are outwardly the two great leading traits in +the wretchedness of the Middle Ages, through which +they came to give themselves up to the Devil. Meanwhile +let us look within, and sound the innermost +depths of their moral life.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Benedict founded a convent at Aniane in Languedoc, in +the reign of Charlemagne.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> See J. Grimm, <i>Rechts Alterthümer</i>, and my <i>Origines du +Droit</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> According to the ritual of Rouen. See Ducange on the +words <i>Festum</i> and <i>Kalendæ</i>: also Martène, iii. 110. The Sibyl +was crowned and followed by Jews and Gentiles, by Moses, the +Prophets, Nebuchadnezzar, &c. From a very early time, and +continually from the seventh to the seventeenth century, the +Church strove to proscribe the great people’s feasts of the Ass, +of Innocents, of Children, and of Fools. It never succeeded +until the advent of the modern spirit.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> See the Capitularies, <i>passim</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> An illustrious Breton, the last man of the Middle Ages, +who had gone on a bootless errand to convert Rome, received +there some brilliant offers. “What do you want?” said the +Pope.—“Only one thing: to have done with the Breviary.”</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> The famous avowal made by Hincmar.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Charles the Bald.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> A difference too little felt by those who have spoken of +the <i>personal recommendation</i>, &c.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Grimm, <i>Rechts Alterthümer</i>, and my <i>Origines du Droit</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> This befell the Count of Avesnes when his freehold was +declared a mere fief, himself a mere vassal, a serf of the Earl +of Hainault. Read, too, the dreadful story of the Great Chancellor +of Flanders, the first magistrate of Bruges, who also was +claimed as a serf.—Gualterius, <i>Scriptores Rerum Francicarum</i>, +viii. 334.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE LITTLE DEVIL OF THE FIRESIDE.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">There</span> is an air of dreaming about those earlier centuries +of the Middle Ages, in which the legends were +self-conceived. Among countryfolk so gently submissive, +as these legends show them, to the Church, +you would readily suppose that very great innocence +might be found. This is surely the temple of God +the Father. And yet the <i>penitentiaries</i>, wherein reference +is made to ordinary sins, speak of strange +defilements, of things afterwards rare enough under +the rule of Satan.</p> + +<p>These sprang from two causes, from the utter ignorance +of the times, and from the close intermingling +of near kindred under one roof. They seem to have +had but a slight acquaintance with our modern ethics. +Those of their day, all counterpleas notwithstanding, +resemble the ethics of the patriarchs, of that far antiquity +which regarded marriage with a stranger as +immoral, and allowed only of marriage amongst kinsfolk. +The families thus joined together became as +one. Not daring to scatter over the surrounding +deserts, tilling only the outskirts of a Merovingian +palace or a monastery, they took shelter every evening +under the roof of a large homestead (<i>villa</i>). Thence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +arose unpleasant points of analogy with the ancient +<i>ergastulum</i>, where the slaves of an estate were all +crammed together. Many of these communities lasted +through and even beyond the Middle Ages. About +the results of such a system the lord would feel very +little concern. To his eyes but one family was visible +in all this tribe, this multitude of people “who rose +and lay down together, ... who ate together of the +same bread, and drank out of the same mug.”</p> + +<p>Amidst such confusion the woman was not much +regarded. Her place was by no means lofty. If the +virgin, the ideal woman, rose higher from age to age, +the real woman was held of little worth among these +boorish masses, in this medley of men and herds. +Wretched was the doom of a condition which could only +change with the growth of separate dwellings, when +men at length took courage to live apart in hamlets, +or to build them huts in far-off forest-clearings, amidst +the fruitful fields they had gone out to cultivate. From +the lonely hearth comes the true family. It is the nest +that forms the bird. Thenceforth they were no more +things, but men; for then also was the woman born.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It was a very touching moment, the day she entered +<i>her own home</i>. Then at last the poor wretch might +become pure and holy. There, as she sits spinning +alone, while her goodman is in the forest, she may +brood on some thought and dream away. Her damp, +ill-fastened cabin, through which keeps whistling the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +winter wind, is still, by way of a recompense, calm +and silent. In it are sundry dim corners where the +housewife lodges her dreams.</p> + +<p>And by this time she has some property, something +of her own. The <i>distaff</i>, the <i>bed</i>, and the <i>trunk</i>, are +all she has, according to the old song.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> We may add +a table, a seat, perhaps two stools. A poor dwelling +and very bare; but then it is furnished with a living +soul! The fire cheers her, the blessed box-twigs +guard her bed, accompanied now and again by a pretty +bunch of vervein. Seated by her door, the lady of +this palace spins and watches some sheep. We are +not yet rich enough to keep a cow; but to that we +may come in time, if Heaven will bless our house. +The wood, a bit of pasture, and some bees about our +ground—such is our way of life! But little corn is +cultivated as yet, there being no assurance of a harvest +so long of coming. Such a life, however needy, is +anyhow less hard for the woman: she is not broken +down and withered, as she will be in the days of large +farming. And she has more leisure withal. You +must never judge of her by the coarse literature of +the Fabliaux and the Christmas Carols, by the foolish +laughter and license of the filthy tales we have to put +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>up with by and by. She is alone; without a neighbour. +The bad, unwholesome life of the dark, little, +walled towns, the mutual spyings, the wretched dangerous +gossipings, have not yet begun. No old +woman comes of an evening, when the narrow street +is growing dark, to tempt the young maiden by saying +how for the love of her somebody is dying. She has +no friend but her own reflections; she converses only +with her beasts or the tree in the forest.</p> + +<p>Such things speak to her, we know of what. They +recall to her mind the saws once uttered by her mother +and grandmother; ancient saws handed down for ages +from woman to woman. They form a harmless reminder +of the old country spirits, a touching family +religion which doubtless had little power in the blustering +hurly-burly of a great common dwellinghouse, +but now comes back again to haunt the lonely cabin.</p> + +<p>It is a singular, a delicate world of fays and hobgoblins, +made for a woman’s soul. When the great +creation of the saintly Legend gets stopped and dried +up, that other older, more poetic legend comes in for +its share of welcome; reigns privily with gentle sway. +It is the woman’s treasure; she worships and caresses +it. The fay, too, is a woman, a fantastic mirror wherein +she sees herself in a fairer guise.</p> + +<p>Who were these fays? Tradition says, that of yore +some Gaulish queens, being proud and fanciful, did on +the coming of Christ and His Apostles behave so insolently +as to turn their backs upon them. In Brittany<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +they were dancing at the moment, and never stopped +dancing. Hence their hard doom; they are condemned +to live until the Day of Judgment.<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> Many of +them were turned into mice or rabbits; as the Kow-riggwans +for instance, or Elves, who meeting at night +round the old Druidic stones entangle you in their +dances. The same fate befell the pretty Queen Mab, +who made herself a royal chariot out of a walnut-shell. +They are all rather whimsical, and sometimes ill-humoured. +But can we be surprised at them, remembering +their woeful lot? Tiny and odd as they are, +they have a heart, a longing to be loved. They are +good and they are bad and full of fancies. On the +birth of a baby they come down the chimney, to endow +it and order its future. They are fond of good spinning-women—they +even spin divinely themselves. Do +we not talk of <i>spinning like a fairy</i>?</p> + +<p>The fairy-tales, stripped of the absurd embellishments +in which the latest compilers muffled them up, express +the heart of the people itself. They mark a poetic +interval between the gross communism of the primitive +<i>villa</i>, and the looseness of the time when a growing +burgess-class made our cynical Fabliaux.<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></p> + +<p>These tales have an historical side, reminding us, in +the ogres, &c., of the great famines. But commonly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>they soar higher than any history, on the <i>Blue Bird’s</i> +wing, in a realm of eternal poesy; telling us our +wishes which never vary, the unchangeable history of +the heart.</p> + +<p>The poor serf’s longing to breathe, to rest, to find a +treasure that may end his sufferings, continually returns. +More often, through a lofty aspiration, this +treasure becomes a soul as well, a treasure of love +asleep, as in <i>The Sleeping Beauty</i>: but not seldom the +charming person finds herself by some fatal enchantment +hidden under a mask. Hence that touching trilogy, +that admirable <i>crescendo</i> of <i>Riquet with the Tuft</i>, +<i>Ass’s Skin</i>, and <i>Beauty and the Beast</i>. Love will not +be discouraged. Through all that ugliness it follows +after and gains the hidden beauty. In the last of these +tales that feeling touches the sublime, and I think that +no one has ever read it without weeping.</p> + +<p>A passion most real, most sincere, lurks beneath it—that +unhappy, hopeless love, which unkind nature often +sets between poor souls of very different ranks in life. +On the one hand is the grief of the peasant maid at +not being able to make herself fair enough to win the +cavalier’s fancy; on the other the smothered sighs of +the serf, when along his furrow he sees passing, on a +white horse, too exquisite a glory, the beautiful, the +majestic Lady of the Castle. So in the East arises +the mournful idyll of the impossible loves of the Rose +and the Nightingale. Nevertheless, there is one +great difference: the bird and the flower are both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +beautiful; nay, are alike in their beauty. But here +the humbler being, doomed to a place so far below, +avows to himself that he is ugly and monstrous. But +amidst his wailing he feels in himself a power greater +than the East can know. With the will of a hero, +through the very greatness of his desire, he breaks out +of his idle coverings. He loves so much, this monster, +that he is loved, and, in return, through that love +grows beautiful.</p> + +<p>An infinite tenderness pervades it all. This soul +enchanted thinks not of itself alone. It busies itself +in saving all nature and all society as well. Victims +of every kind, the child beaten by its step-mother, the +youngest sister slighted, ill-used by her elders, are the +surest objects of its liking. Even to the Lady of the +Castle does its compassion extend; it mourns her fallen +into the hands of so fierce a lord as Blue-Beard. It +yearns with pity towards the beasts; it seeks to console +them for being still in the shape of animals. Let them +be patient, and their day will come. Some day their +prisoned souls shall put on wings, shall be free, lovely, +and beloved. This is the other side of <i>Ass’s Skin</i> +and such like stories. There especially we are sure of +finding a woman’s heart. The rude labourer in the +fields may be hard enough to his beasts, but to the +woman they are no beasts. She regards them with the +feeling of a child. To her fancy all is human, all is +soul: the whole world becomes ennobled. It is a beautiful +enchantment. Humble as she is, and ugly as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +thinks herself, she has given all her beauty, all her +grace to the surrounding universe.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Is she, then, so ugly, this little peasant-wife, whose +dreaming fancy feeds on things like these? I tell you +she keeps house, she spins and minds the flock, she +visits the forest to gather a little wood. As yet she has +neither the hard work nor the ugly looks of the +countrywoman as afterwards fashioned by the prevalent +culture of grain crops. Nor is she like the fat townswife, +heavy and slothful, about whom our fathers made +such a number of fat stories. She has no sense of +safety; she is meek and timid, and feels herself, as it +were, in God’s hand. On yonder hill she can see the +dark frowning castle, whence a thousand harms may +come upon her. Her husband she holds in equal fear +and honour. A serf elsewhere, by her side he is a +king. For him she saves of her best, living herself on +nothing. She is small and slender like the women-saints +of the Church. The poor feeding of those +days must needs make women fine-bred, but lacking +also in vital strength. The children die off in vast +numbers: those pale roses are all nerves. Hence, will +presently burst forth the epileptic dances of the fourteenth +century. Meanwhile, towards the twelfth century, +there come to be two weaknesses attached to this +state of half-grown youth: by night somnambulism; +in the daytime seeing of visions, trance, and the gift +of tears.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p><hr /> + +<p>This woman, for all her innocence, still has a secret +which the Church may never be told. Locked up in +her heart she bears the pitying remembrance of those +poor old gods who have fallen into the state of +spirits;<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> and spirits, you must know, are not exempt +from suffering. Dwelling in rocks, and in hearts of +oak, they are very unhappy in winter; being particularly +fond of warmth. They ramble about houses; +they are sometimes seen in stables warming themselves +beside the beasts. Bereft of incense and burnt-offerings, +they sometimes take of the milk. The housewife +being thrifty, will not stint her husband, but +lessens her own share, and in the evening leaves a +little cream.</p> + +<p>Those spirits who only appear at night, regret their +banishment from the day and are greedy of lamplight. +By night the housewife starts on her perilous trip, +bearing a small lantern, to the great oak where they +dwell, or to the secret fountain whose mirror, as it +multiplies the flame, may cheer up those sorrowful +outlaws.</p> + +<p>But if anyone should know of it, good heavens! +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>Her husband is canny and fears the Church: he would +certainly give her a beating. The priest wages fierce +war with the sprites, and hunts them out of every +place. Yet he might leave them their dwelling in the +oaks! What harm can they do in the forest? Alas! +no: from council to council they are hunted down. +On set days the priest will go even to the oak, and +with prayers and holy water drive away the spirits.</p> + +<p>How would it be if no kind soul took pity on them? +This woman, however, will take them under her care. +She is an excellent Christian, but will keep for them +one corner of her heart. To them alone can she +entrust those little natural affairs, which, harmless as +they are in a chaste wife’s dwelling, the Church +at any rate would count as blameworthy. They are +the confidants, the confessors of these touching womanly +secrets. Of them she thinks, when she puts +the holy log on the fire. It is Christmastide; but +also is it the ancient festival of the Northern spirits, +the <i>Feast of the Longest Night</i>. So, too, the Eve of +May-day is the <i>Pervigilium of Maia</i>, when the tree +is planted. So, too, with the Eve of St. John, the +true feast-day of life, of flowers, and newly-awakened +love. She who has no children makes it her especial +duty to cherish these festivals, and to offer them a +deep devotion. A vow to the Virgin would perhaps be +of little avail, it being no concern of Mary’s. In a +low whisper, she prefers addressing some ancient +<i>genius</i>, worshipped in other days as a rustic deity, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +afterwards by the kindness of some local church transformed +into a saint.<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> And thus it happens that the +bed, the cradle, all the sweetest mysteries on which the +chaste and loving soul can brood, belong to the olden +gods.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Nor are the sprites ungrateful. One day she awakes, +and without having stirred a finger, finds all her housekeeping +done. In her amazement she makes the sign +of the cross and says nothing. When the good man +goes she questions herself, but in vain. It must have +been a spirit. “What can it be? How came it here? +How I should like to see it! But I am afraid: they +say it is death to see a spirit.”—Yet the cradle moves +and swings of itself. She is clasped by some one, and +a voice so soft, so low that she took it for her own, is +heard saying, “Dearest mistress, I love to rock your +babe, because I am myself a babe.” Her heart beats, +and yet she takes courage a little. The innocence of +the cradle gives this spirit also an innocent air, causing +her to believe it good, gentle, suffered at least by +God.</p> + +<p>From that day forth she is no longer alone. She +readily feels its presence, and it is never far from her. +It rubs her gown, and she hears the grazing. It rambles +momently about her, and plainly cannot leave her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>side. If she goes to the stable, it is there; and she +believes that the other day it was in the churn.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> + +<p>Pity she cannot take it up and look at it! Once, +when she suddenly touched the brands, she fancied +she saw the tricksy little thing tumbling about in the +sparks; another time she missed catching it in a rose. +Small as it is, it works, sweeps, arranges, saves her a +thousand cares.</p> + +<p>It has its faults, however; is giddy, bold, and if she +did not hold it fast, might perhaps shake itself free. It +observes and listens too much. It repeats sometimes +of a morning some little word she had whispered very, +very softly on going to bed, when the light was put out. +She knows it to be very indiscreet, exceedingly curious. +She is irked with feeling herself always followed about, +complains of it, and likes complaining. Sometimes, +having threatened him and turned him off, she feels +herself quite at ease. But just then she finds herself +caressed by a light breathing, as it were a bird’s wing. +He was under a leaf. He laughs: his gentle voice, free +from mocking, declares the joy he felt in taking his +chaste young mistress by surprise. On her making a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>show of great wrath, “No, my darling, my little pet,” +says the monkey, “you are not a bit sorry to have +me here.”</p> + +<p>She feels ashamed and dares say nothing more. But +she guesses now that she loves him overmuch. She has +scruples about it, and loves him yet more. All night +she seems to feel him creeping up to her bed. In her +fear she prays to God, and keeps close to her husband. +What shall she do? She has not the strength to tell +the Church. She tells her husband, who laughs at first +incredulously. Then she owns to a little more,—what +a madcap the goblin is, sometimes even overbold. +“What matters? He is so small.” Thus he himself +sets her mind at ease.</p> + +<p>Should we too feel reassured, we who can see more +clearly? She is quite innocent still. She would shrink +from copying the great lady up there who, in the face +of her husband, has her court of lovers and her page. +Let us own, however, that to that point the goblin has +already smoothed the way. One could not have a more +perilous page than he who hides himself under a rose; +and, moreover, he smacks of the lover. More intrusive +than anyone else, he is so tiny that he can creep +anywhere.</p> + +<p>He glides even into the husband’s heart, paying him +court and winning his good graces. He looks after +his tools, works in his garden, and of an evening, by +way of reward, curls himself up in the chimney, behind +the babe and the cat. They hear his small voice, just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +like a cricket’s; but they never see much of him, save +when a faint glimmer lights a certain cranny in which +he loves to stay. Then they see, or think they see, a +thin little face; and cry out, “Ah! little one, we have +seen you at last!”</p> + +<p>In church they are told to mistrust the spirits, for +even one that seems innocent, and glides about like a +light breeze, may after all be a devil. They take good +care not to believe it. His size begets a belief in his +innocence. Whilst he is there, they thrive. The husband +holds to him as much as the wife, and perhaps +more. He sees that the tricksy little elf makes the +fortune of the house.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Trois pas du côté du banc,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et trois pas du côté du lit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trois pas du côté du coffre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et trois pas—— Revenez ici.”<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(<i>Old Song of the Dancing Master.</i>)<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> All passages bearing on this point have been gathered +together in two learned works by M. Maury (<i>Les Fées</i>, 1843; +and <i>La Magie</i>, 1860). See also Grimm.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> A body of tales by the Trouvères of the twelfth and +thirteenth centuries.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> This loyalty of hers is very touching indeed. In the fifth +century the peasants braved persecution by parading the gods +of the old religion in the shape of small dolls made of linen +or flour. Still the same in the eighth century. The <i>Capitularies</i> +threaten death in vain. In the twelfth century, Burchard, of +Worms, attests their inutility. In 1389, the Sorbonne inveighs +against certain traces of heathenism, while in 1400, Gerson +talks of it as still a lively superstition.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> A. Maury, <i>Magie</i>, 159.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> This is a favourite haunt of the little rogue’s. To this day +the Swiss, knowing his tastes, make him a present of some +milk. His name among them is <i>troll</i> (<i>drôle</i>); among the Germans +<i>kobold</i>, <i>nix</i>. In France he is called <i>follet</i>, <i>goblin</i>, <i>lutin</i>; +in England, <i>Puck</i>, <i>Robin Goodfellow</i>. Shakespeare says, he does +sleepy servants the kindness to pinch them black and blue, in +order to rouse them.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>TEMPTATIONS.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">I have</span> kept this picture clear of those dreadful +shadows of the hour by which it would have been +sadly overdarkened. I refer especially to the uncertainty +attending the lot of these rural households, to +their constant fear and foreboding of some casual +outrage which might at any moment descend on them +from the castle.</p> + +<p>There were just two things which made the feudal +rule a hell: on one hand, its <i>exceeding steadfastness</i>, +man being nailed, as it were, to the ground, and +emigration made impossible; on the other, a very +great degree of <i>uncertainty</i> about his lot.</p> + +<p>The optimist historians who say so much about +fixed rents, charters, buying of immunities, forget how +slightly all this was guaranteed. So much you were +bound to pay the lord, but all the rest he could take +if he chose; and this was very fitly called the <i>right of +seizure</i>. You may work and work away, my good +fellow! But while you are in the fields, yon dreaded +band from the castle will fall upon your house and +carry off whatever they please “for their lord’s service.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>Look again at that man standing with his head +bowed gloomily over the furrow! And thus he is +always found, his face clouded, his heart oppressed, as +if he were expecting some evil news. Is he meditating +some wrongful deed? No; but there are two ideas +haunting him, two daggers piercing him in turn. +The one is, “In what state shall I find my house +this evening?” The other, “Would that the turning +up of this sod might bring some treasure to +light! O that the good spirit would help to buy us +free!”</p> + +<p>We are assured that, after the fashion of the +Etruscan spirit which one day started up from under +the ploughshare in the form of a child, a dwarf or +gnome of the tiniest stature would sometimes on such +an appeal come forth from the ground, and, setting +itself on the furrow, would say, “What wantest thou?” +But in his amazement the poor man would ask for +nothing; he would turn pale, cross himself, and presently +go quite away.</p> + +<p>Did he never feel sorry afterwards? Said he never +to himself, “Fool that you are, you will always be unlucky?” +I readily believe he did; but I also think +that a barrier of dread invincible stopped him short. +I cannot believe with the monks who have told us all +things concerning witchcraft, that the treaty with +Satan was the light invention of a miser or a man in +love. On the contrary, nature and good sense alike +inform us that it was only the last resource of an overwhelming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +despair, under the weight of dreadful outrages +and dreadful sufferings.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But those great sufferings, we are told, must have been +greatly lightened about the time of St. Louis, who forbade +private wars among the nobles. My own opinion +is quite the reverse. During the fourscore or hundred +years that elapsed between his prohibition and the +wars with England (1240-1340), the great lords being +debarred from the accustomed sport of burning and +plundering their neighbours’ lands, became a terror +to their own vassals. For the latter such a peace was +simply war.</p> + +<p>The spiritual, the monkish lords, and others, as +shown in the <i>Journal of Eudes Rigault</i>, lately published, +make one shudder. It is a repulsive picture of +profligacy at once savage and uncontrolled. The +monkish lords especially assail the nunneries. The +austere Rigault, Archbishop of Rouen, confessor of the +holy king, conducts a personal inquiry into the state +of Normandy. Every evening he comes to a monastery. +In all of them he finds the monks leading the life of +great feudal lords, wearing arms, getting drunk, fighting +duels, keen huntsmen over all the cultivated land; +the nuns living among them in wild confusion, and +betraying everywhere the fruits of their shameless +deeds.</p> + +<p>If things are so in the Church, what must the lay +lords have been? What like was the inside of those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +dark towers which the folk below regarded with so +much horror? Two tales, undoubtedly historical, +namely, <i>Blue-Beard</i> and <i>Griselda</i>, tell us something +thereanent. To his vassals, his serfs, what indeed must +have been this devotee of torture who treated his own +family in such a way? He is known to us through the +only man who was brought to trial for such deeds; and +that not earlier than the fifteenth century,—Gilles de +Retz, who kidnapped children.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter Scott’s Front de Bœuf, and the other +lords of melodramas and romances, are but poor creatures +in the face of these dreadful realities. The +Templar also in <i>Ivanhoe</i>, is a weak artificial conception. +The author durst not assay the foul reality of celibate +life in the Temple, or within the castle walls. Few +women were taken in there, being accounted not worth +their keep. The romances of chivalry altogether belie +the truth. It is remarkable, indeed, how often the +literature of an age expresses the very opposite of its +manners, as, for instance, the washy theatre of eclogues +after Florian,<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> during the years of the Great Terror.</p> + +<p>The rooms in these castles, in such at least as may +be seen to-day, speak more plainly than any books. +Men-at-arms, pages, footmen, crammed together of +nights under low-vaulted roofs, in the daytime kept on +the battlements, on narrow terraces, in a state of most +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>sickening weariness, lived only in their pranks down +below; in feats no longer of arms on the neighbouring +domains, but of hunting, ay, and hunting of men; +insults, I may say, without number, outrages untold on +families of serfs. The lord himself well knew that +such an army of men, without women, could only be +kept in order by letting them loose from time to time.</p> + +<p>The awful idea of a hell wherein God employs the +very guiltiest of the wicked spirits to torture the less +guilty delivered over to them for their sport,—this +lovely dogma of the Middle Ages was exemplified to +the last letter. Men felt that God was not among +them. Each new raid betokened more and more +clearly the kingdom of Satan, until men came to believe +that thenceforth their prayers should be offered to +him alone.</p> + +<p>Up in the castle there was laughing and joking. +“The women-serfs were too ugly.” There is no question +raised as to their beauty. The great pleasure lay +in deeds of outrage, in striking and making them +weep. Even in the seventeenth century the great +ladies died with laughing, when the Duke of Lorraine +told them how, in peaceful villages, his people went +about harrying and torturing all the women, even to +the old.</p> + +<p>These outrages fell most frequently, as we might +suppose, on families well to do and comparatively distinguished +among the serfs; the families, namely, of +those serf-born mayors, who already in the twelfth +century appear at the head of the village. By the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +nobles they were hated, jeered, cruelly plagued. Their +newborn moral dignity was not to be forgiven. Their +wives and daughters were not allowed to be good and +wise: they had no right to be held in any respect. +Their honour was not their own. <i>Serfs of the body</i>, +such was the cruel phrase cast for ever in their teeth.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In days to come people will be slow to believe, that +the law among Christian nations went beyond anything +decreed concerning the olden slavery; that it +wrote down as an actual right the most grievous outrage +that could ever wound man’s heart. The lord +spiritual had this foul privilege no less than the lord +temporal. In a parish outside Bourges, the parson, as +being a lord, expressly claimed the firstfruits of the +bride, but was willing to sell his rights to the husband.<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p> + +<p>It has been too readily believed that this wrong was +formal, not real. But the price laid down in certain +countries for getting a dispensation, exceeded the +means of almost every peasant. In Scotland, for +instance, the demand was for “several cows:” a price +immense, impossible. So the poor young wife was at +their mercy. Besides, the Courts of Béarn openly +maintain that this right grew up naturally: “The +eldest-born of the peasant is accounted the son of his +lord, for he perchance it was who begat him.”<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p><p>All feudal customs, even if we pass over this, compel +the bride to go up to the castle, bearing thither the +“wedding-dish.” Surely it was a cruel thing to make +her trust herself amongst such a pack of celibate dogs, +so shameless and so ungovernable.</p> + +<p>A shameful scene we may well imagine it to have +been. As the young husband is leading his bride to +the castle, fancy the laughter of cavaliers and footmen, +the frolics of the pages around the wretched poor! +But the presence of the great lady herself will check +them? Not at all. The lady in whose delicate breeding +the romances tell us to believe,<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> but who, in her husband’s +absence, ruled his men, judging, chastising, +ordaining penalties, to whom her husband himself was +bound by the fiefs she brought him,—such a lady +would be in no wise merciful, especially towards a girl-serf +who happened also to be good-looking. Since, +according to the custom of those days, she openly kept +her gentleman and her page, she would not be sorry to +sanction her own libertinism by that of her husband.</p> + +<p>Nothing will she do to hinder the fun, the sport they +are making out of yon poor trembler who has come to +redeem his bride. They begin by bargaining with him; +they laugh at the pangs endured by “the miserly +peasant;” they suck the very blood and marrow of +him. Why all this fury? Because he is neatly clad; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>is honest, settled; is a man of mark in the village. +Why, indeed? Because she is pious, chaste, and pure; +because she loves him; because she is frightened and +falls a-weeping. Her sweet eyes plead for pity.</p> + +<p>In vain does the poor wretch offer all he has, even +to her dowry: it is all too little. Angered at such +cruel injustice, he will say perhaps that “his neighbour +paid nothing.” The insolent fellow! he would argue +with us! Thereon they gather round him, a yelling +mob: sticks and brooms pelt upon him like hail. They +jostle him, they throw him down. “You jealous +villain, you Lent-faced villain!” they cry; “no one +takes your wife from you; you shall have her back to-night, +and to enhance the honour done you ... your +eldest child will be a baron!” Everyone looks +out of window at the absurd figure of this dead man +in wedding garments. He is followed by bursts of +laughter, and the noisy rabble, down to the lowest +scullion, give chase to the “cuckold.”<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The poor fellow would have burst, had he nothing to +hope for from the Devil. By himself he returns: is +the house empty as well as desolate? No, there is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>company waiting for him there: by the fireside sits +Satan.</p> + +<p>But soon his bride comes back, poor wretch, all pale +and undone. Alas! alas! for her condition. At his +feet she throws herself and craves forgiveness. Then, +with a bursting heart, he flings his arms round her +neck. He weeps, he sobs, he roars, till the house +shakes again.</p> + +<p>But with her comes back God. For all her suffering, +she is pure, innocent, holy still. Satan for that +nonce will get no profit: the treaty is not yet ripe.</p> + +<p>Our silly Fabliaux, our absurd tales, assume with +regard to this deadly outrage and all its further issues, +that the woman sides with her oppressors against her +husband; they would have us believe that her brutal +treatment by the former makes her happy and transports +her with delight. A likely thing indeed! +Doubtless she might be seduced by rank, politeness, +elegant manners. But no pains are ever taken to that +end. Great would be the scoffing at anyone who +made true-love’s wooing towards a serf. The whole +gang of men, to the chaplain, the butler, even the +footmen, would think they honoured her by deeds of +outrage. The smallest page thought himself a great +lord, if he only seasoned his love with insolence and +blows.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>One day, the poor woman, having just been ill-treated +during her husband’s absence, begins weeping,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +and saying quite aloud, the while she is tying up her +long hair, “Ah, those unhappy saints of the woods, +what boots it to offer them my vows? Are they deaf, +or have they grown too old? Why have I not some +protecting spirit, strong and mighty—wicked even, if it +need be? Some such I see in stone at the church-door; +but what do they there? Why do they not go +to their proper dwelling, the castle, to carry off and +roast those sinners? Oh, who is there will give me +power and might? I would gladly give myself in +exchange. Ah, me, what is it I would give? What +have I to give on my side? Nothing is left me. Out +on this body, out on this soul, a mere cinder now! +Why, instead of this useless goblin, have I not some +spirit, great, strong, and mighty, to help me?”</p> + +<p>“My darling mistress! If I am small, it is your +fault; and bigger I cannot grow. And besides, if I +were very big, neither you nor your husband would +have borne with me. You would have driven me away +with your priests and your holy water. I can be strong, +however, if you please. For, mistress mine, the spirits +in themselves are neither great nor small, neither weak +nor strong. For him who wishes it, the smallest can +become a giant.”</p> + +<p>“In what way?”</p> + +<p>“Why, nothing can be simpler. To make him a +giant, you must grant him only one gift.”</p> + +<p>“What is that?”</p> + +<p>“A lovely woman-soul.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Ah, wicked one! What then art thou, and what +wouldst thou have?”</p> + +<p>“Only what you give me every day.... Would +you be better than the lady up yonder? She has +pledged her soul to her husband and to her lover, and +yet she yields it whole to her page. I am more than a +page to you, more than a servant. In how many +matters have I not been your little handmaid! Do +not blush, nor be angry. Let me only say, that I am +all about you, and already perhaps in you. Else, how +could I know your thoughts, even those which you +hide from yourself? Who am I, then? Your little +soul, which speaks thus openly to the great one. We +are inseparable. Do you know how long I have been +with you? Some thousand years, for I belonged to your +mother, to hers, to your ancestors. I am the Spirit of +the Fireside.”</p> + +<p>“Tempter! What wilt thou do?”</p> + +<p>“Why, thy husband shall be rich, thyself mighty, +and men shall fear thee.”</p> + +<p>“Where am I? Surely thou art the demon of +hidden treasures!”</p> + +<p>“Why call me demon, if I do deeds of justice, of +goodness, of piety? God cannot be everywhere—He +cannot be always working. Sometimes He likes to +rest, leaving us other spirits here to carry on the +smaller husbandry, to remedy the ills which his providence +passed over, which his justice forgot to +handle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of this your husband is an example. Poor, deserving +workman, he is killing himself and gaining +nought in return. Heaven has had no time to look +after him. But I, though rather jealous of him, still +love my kind host. I pity him: his strength is going, +he can bear up no longer. He will die, like your children, +already dead of misery. This winter he was ill; +what will become of him the next?”</p> + +<p>Thereon, her face in her hands, she wept two, three +hours, and even more. And when she had poured out +all her tears—her bosom still throbbing hard—the +other said, “I ask nothing: only, I pray, save him.”</p> + +<p>She had promised nothing, but from that hour she +became his.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> A writer of eclogues, fables and dramas; in youth a +friend of Voltaire, afterwards imprisoned during the Terror.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Lauriere, ii. 100 (on the word <i>Marquette</i>). Michelet, +<i>Origines du Droit</i>, 264.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> When I published my <i>Origines</i> in 1837, I could not have +known this work, published in 1842.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> This delicacy appears in the treatment these ladies inflicted +on their poet Jean de Meung, author of the <i>Roman de +la Rose</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> The old tales are very sportive, but rather monotonous. +They turn on three jokes only: the despair of the <i>cuckold</i>, the +cries of the <i>beaten</i>, the wry faces of the <i>hanged</i>. The first is +amusing, the second laughable, the third, as crown of all, +makes people split their sides. And the three have one point +in common: it is the weak and helpless who is ill-used.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>POSSESSION.</h3> + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">A dreadful</span> age was the age of gold; for thus do +I call that hard time when gold first came into use. +This was in the year 1300, during the reign of that +Fair King<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> who never spake a word; the great king +who seemed to have a dumb devil, but a devil with +mighty arm, strong enough to burn the Temple, long +enough to reach Rome, and with glove of iron to deal +the first good blow at the Pope.</p> + +<p>Gold thereupon becomes a great pope, a mighty +god, and not without cause. The movement began +in Europe with the Crusades: the only wealth men +cared for was that which having wings could lend +itself to their enterprise; the wealth, namely, of swift +exchanges. To strike blows afar off the king wants +nothing but gold. An army of gold, a fiscal army, +spreads over all the land. The lord, who has brought +back with him his dreams of the East, is always +longing for its wonders, for damascened armour, +carpets, spices, valuable steeds. For all such things +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>he needs gold. He pushes away with his foot the +serf who brings him corn. “That is not all; I want +gold!”</p> + +<p>On that day the world was changed. Theretofore +in the midst of much evil there had always been a +harmless certainty about the tax. According as the +year was good or bad, the rent followed the course of +nature and the measure of the harvest. If the lord +said, “This is little,” he was answered, “My lord, +Heaven has granted us no more.”</p> + +<p>But the gold, alas! where shall we find it? We +have no army to seize it in the towns of Flanders. +Where shall we dig the ground to win him his treasure? +Oh, that the spirit of hidden treasures would be +our guide!<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> +<p>While all are desperate, the woman with the goblin +is already seated on her sacks of corn in the little +neighbouring village. She is alone, the rest being +still at their debate in the village.</p> + +<p>She sells at her own price. But even when the +rest come up, everything favours her, some strange +magical allurement working on her side. No one +bargains with her. Her husband, before his time, +brings his rent in good sounding coin to the feudal +elm. “Amazing!” they all say, “but the Devil +is in her!”</p> + +<p>They laugh, but she does not. She is sorrowful +and afraid. In vain she tries to pray that night. +Strange prickings disturb her slumber. Fantastic +forms appear before her. The small gentle sprite +seems to have grown imperious. He waxes bold. +She is uneasy, indignant, eager to rise. In her sleep +she groans, and feels herself dependent, saying, “No +more do I belong to myself!”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“Here is a sensible countryman,” says the lord; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>“he pays beforehand! You charm me: do you know +accounts?”—“A little.”—“Well then, you shall +reckon with these folk. Every Saturday you shall +sit under the elm and receive their money. On +Sunday, before mass, you shall bring it up to the +castle.”</p> + +<p>What a change in their condition! How the wife’s +heart beats when of a Saturday she sees her poor +workman, serf though he be, seated like a lordling +under the baronial shades. At first he feels giddy, +but in time accustoms himself to put on a grave +air. It is no joking matter, indeed; for the lord commands +them to show him due respect. When he has +gone up to the castle, and the jealous ones look like +laughing and designing to pay him off, “You see +that battlement,” says the lord, “the rope you +don’t see, but it is also ready. The first man who +touches him shall be set up there high and quick.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>This speech is repeated from one to another; until +it has spread around these two as it were an atmosphere +of terror. Everybody doffs his hat to them, +bowing very low indeed. But when they pass by, folk +stand aloof, and get out of the way. In order to +shirk them they turn up cross roads, with backs +bended, with eyes turned carefully down. Such a +change makes them first savage, but afterwards sorrowful. +They walk alone through all the district. +The wife’s shrewdness marks the hostile scorn of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +castle, the trembling hate of those below. She feels +herself fearfully isolated between two perils. No one +to defend her but her lord, or rather the money they +pay him: but then to find that money, to spur on the +peasant’s slowness, and overcome his sluggish antagonism, +to snatch somewhat even from him who has +nothing, what hard pressure, what threats, what +cruelty, must be employed! This was never in the +goodman’s line of business. The wife brings him to +the mark by dint of much pushing: she says to him, +“Be rough; at need be cruel. Strike hard. Otherwise +you will fall short of your engagements; and +then we are undone.”</p> + +<p>This suffering by day, however, is a trifle in comparison +with the tortures of the night. She seems to +have lost the power of sleeping. She gets up, walks +to and fro, and roams about the house. All is still; +and yet how the house is altered; its old innocence, its +sweet security all for ever gone! “Of what is that cat +by the hearth a-thinking, as she pretends to sleep, and +’tweenwhiles opens her green eyes upon me? The +she-goat with her long beard, looking so discreet and +ominous, knows more about it than she can tell. And +yon cow which the moon reveals by glimpses in her +stall, why does she give me such a sidelong look? All +this is surely unnatural!”</p> + +<p>Shivering, she returns to her husband’s side. +“Happy man, how deep his slumber! Mine is over; +I cannot sleep, I never shall sleep again.” In time,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +however, she falls off. But oh, what suffering visits +her then! The importunate guest is beside her, demanding +and giving his orders. If one while she gets +rid of him by praying or making the sign of the cross, +anon he returns under another form. “Get back, devil! +What durst thou? I am a Christian soul. No, thou +shalt not touch me!”</p> + +<p>In revenge he puts on a hundred hideous forms; +twining as an adder about her bosom, dancing as a frog +upon her stomach, anon like a bat, sharp-snouted, covering +her scared mouth with dreadful kisses. What is +it he wants? To drive her into a corner, so that +conquered and crushed at last, she may yield and utter +the word “Yes.” Still she is resolute to say “No.” Still +she is bent on braving the cruel struggles of every +night, the endless martyrdom of that wasting strife.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“How far can a spirit make himself withal a body? +What reality can there be in his efforts and approaches? +Would she be sinning in the flesh, if she allowed the +intrusions of one who was always roaming about her? +Would that be sheer adultery?” Such was the sly +roundabout way in which sometimes he stayed and +weakened her resistance. “If I am only a breath, a +smoke, a thin air, as so many doctors call me, why are +you afraid, poor fearful soul, and how does it concern +your husband?”</p> + +<p>It is the painful doom of the soul in these Middle +Ages, that a number of questions which to us would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +seem idle, questions of pure scholastics, disturb, +frighten, and torment it, taking the guise of visions, +sometimes of devilish debatings, of cruel dialogues +carried on within. The Devil, fierce as he shows himself +in the demoniacs, remains always a spirit throughout +the days of the Roman Empire, even in the time +of St. Martin or the fifth century. With the Barbarian +inroads he waxes barbarous, and takes to himself +a body. So great a body does he become, that he +amuses himself in breaking with stones the bell of +the convent of St. Benedict. More and more fleshly +is he made to appear, by way of frightening the plunderers +of ecclesiastical goods. People are taught to +believe that sinners will be tormented not in the spirit +only, but even bodily in the flesh; that they will suffer +material tortures, not those of ideal flames, but in very +deed such exquisite pangs as burning coals, gridirons, +and red-hot spits can awaken.</p> + +<p>This conception of the torturing devils inflicting +material agonies on the souls of the dead, was a mine +of gold to the Church. The living, pierced with grief +and pity, asked themselves “if it were possible to redeem +these poor souls from one world to another; if to +these, too, might be applied such forms of expiation, by +atonement and compromise, as were practised upon +earth?” This bridge between two worlds was found +in Cluny, which from its very birth, about 900, became +at once among the wealthiest of the monastic +orders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>So long as God Himself dealt out his punishments, +<i>making heavy his hand</i>, or striking <i>with the sword of +the Angel</i>, according to the grand old phrase, there +was much less of horror; if his hand was heavy as +that of a judge, it was still the hand of a Father. The +Angel who struck remained pure and clean as his own +sword. Far otherwise is it when the execution is done +by filthy demons, who resemble not the angel that +burned up Sodom, but the angel that first went forth +therefrom. In that place they stay, and their hell is +a kind of Sodom, wherein these spirits, fouler than the +sinners yielded into their charge, extract a horrible joy +from the tortures they are inflicting. Such was the +teaching to be found in the simple carvings hung out +at the doors of churches. By these men learned the +horrible lesson of the pleasures of pain. On pretence +of punishing, the devils wreaked upon their victims +the most outrageous whims. Truly an immoral and +most shameful idea was this, of a sham justice that +befriended the worse side, deepening its wickedness by +the present of a plaything, and corrupting the Demon +himself!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Cruel times indeed! Think how dark and low a +heaven it was, how heavily it weighed on the head of +man! Fancy the poor little children from their earliest +years imbued with such awful ideas, and trembling +within their cradles! Look at the pure innocent virgin +believing herself damned for the pleasure infused in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +her by the spirit! And the wife in her marriage-bed +tortured by his attacks, withstanding him, and yet +again feeling him within her!—a fearful feeling known +to those who have suffered from tænia. You feel in +yourself a double life; you trace the monster’s movements, +now boisterous, anon soft and waving, and +therein the more troublesome, as making you fancy +yourself on the sea. Then you rush off in wild dismay, +terrified at yourself, longing to escape, to die.</p> + +<p>Even at such times as the demon was not raging +against her, the woman into whom he had once forced +his way would wander about as one burdened with +gloom. For thenceforth she had no remedy. He had +taken fast hold of her, like an impure steam. He is +the Prince of the Air, of storms, and not least of the +storms within. All this may be seen rudely but forcefully +presented under the great doorway of Strasburg +Cathedral. Heading the band of <i>Foolish Virgins</i>, the +wicked woman who lures them on to destruction is +filled, blown out by the Devil, who overflows ignobly +and passes out from under her skirts in a dark stream +of thick smoke.</p> + +<p>This blowing-out is a painful feature in the <i>possession</i>; +at once her punishment and her pride. This proud +woman of Strasburg bears her belly well before her, +while her head is thrown far back. She triumphs in +her size, delights in being a monster.</p> + +<p>To this, however, the woman we are following has +not yet come. But already she is puffed up with him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +and with her new and lofty lot. The earth has ceased +to bear her. Plump and comely in these better days, +she goes down the street with head upright, and merciless +in her scorn. She is feared, hated, admired.</p> + +<p>In look and bearing our village lady says, “I ought +to be the great lady herself. And what does she up +yonder, the shameless sluggard, amidst all those men, +in the absence of her lord?” And now the rivalry is +set on foot. The village, while it loathes her, is proud +thereat. “If the lady of the castle is a baroness, our +woman is a queen; and more than a queen,—we dare +not say what.” Her beauty is a dreadful, a fantastic +beauty, killing in its pride and pain. The Demon himself +is in her eyes.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He has her and yet has her not. She is still <i>herself</i>, +and preserves <i>herself</i>. She belongs neither to the Demon +nor to God. The Demon may certainly invade +her, may encompass her like a fine atmosphere. And +yet he has gained nothing at all; for he has no will +thereto. She is <i>possessed</i>, <i>bedevilled</i>, and she does not +belong to the Devil. Sometimes he uses her with +dreadful cruelty, and yet gains nothing thereby. He +places a coal of fire on her breast, or within her bowels. +She jumps and writhes, but still says, “No, butcher, +I will stay as I am.”</p> + +<p>“Take care! I will lash you with so cruel a +scourge of vipers, I will smite you with such a blow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +that you will afterwards go weeping and rending the +air with your cries.”</p> + +<p>The next night he will not come. In the morning—it +was Sunday—her husband went up to the castle. +He came back all undone. The lord had said: “A +brook that flows drop by drop cannot turn the mill. +You bring me a halfpenny at a time, which is good for +nought. I must set off in a fortnight. The king +marches towards Flanders, and I have not even a war-horse, +my own being lame ever since the tourney. +Get ready for business: I am in want of a hundred +pounds.”</p> + +<p>“But, my lord, where shall I find them?”</p> + +<p>“You may sack the whole village, if you will; I am +about to give you men enough. Tell your churls, if +the money is not forthcoming they are lost men; yourself +especially—you shall die. I have had enough of +you: you have the heart of a woman; you are slack +and sluggish. You shall die—you shall pay for your +cowardice, your effeminacy. Stay; it makes but very +small difference whether you go down now, or whether +I keep you here. This is Sunday: right loudly would +the folk yonder laugh to see you dangling your legs +from my battlements.”</p> + +<p>All this the unhappy man tells again to his wife; +and preparing hopelessly for death, commends his soul +to God. She being just as frightened, can neither lie +down nor sleep. What is to be done? How sorry +she is now to have sent the spirit away! If he would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +but come back! In the morning, when her husband +rises, she sinks crushed upon the bed. She has hardly +done so, when she feels on her chest a heavy weight. +Gasping for breath, she is like to choke. The weight +falls lower till it presses on her stomach, and therewithal +on her arms she feels the grasp as of two steel hands.</p> + +<p>“You wanted me, and here I am. So, at last, stubborn +one, I have your soul—at last!”</p> + +<p>“But oh, sir, is it mine to give away? My poor +husband! you used to love him—you said so: you +promised——”</p> + +<p>“Your husband! You forget. Are you sure your +thoughts were always kept upon him? Your soul! I +ask for it as a favour; but it is already mine.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” she says—her pride once more returning +to her, even in so dire a strait—“no, sir; that soul +belongs to me, to my husband, to our marriage rites.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, incorrigible little fool! you would struggle +still, even now that you are under the goad! I have +seen your soul at all hours; I know it better than +you yourself. Day by day did I mark your first reluctances, +your pains, and your fits of despair. I saw +how disheartened you were when, in a low tone, you +said that no one could be held to an impossibility. +And then I saw you growing more resigned. You +were beaten a little, and you cried out not very loud. +As for me, I ask for your soul simply because you have +already lost it. Meanwhile, your husband is dying. +What is to be done? I am sorry for you: I have you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +in my power; but I want something more. You must +grant it frankly and of free will, or else he is a dead +man.”</p> + +<p>She answered very low, in her sleep, “Ah me! my +body and my miserable flesh, you may take them to +save my husband; but my heart, never. No one has +ever had it, and I cannot give it away.”</p> + +<p>So, all resignedly she waited there. And he flung +at her two words: “Keep them, and they will save +you.” Therewith she shuddered, felt within her a +horrible thrill of fire, and, uttering a loud cry, awoke +in the arms of her astonished husband, to drown him +in a flood of tears.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>She tore herself away by force, and got up, fearing +lest she should forget those two important words. Her +husband was alarmed; for, without looking even at +him, she darted on the wall a glance as piercing as +that of Medea. Never was she more handsome. In +her dark eye and the yellowish white around it played +such a glimmer as one durst not face—a glimmer like +the sulphurous jet of a volcano.</p> + +<p>She walked straight to the town. The first word +was “<i>Green</i>.” Hanging at a tradesman’s door she beheld +a green gown—the colour of the Prince of the World—an +old gown, which as she put it on became new +and glossy. Then she walked, without asking anyone, +straight to the door of a Jew, at which she +knocked loudly. It was opened with great caution.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +The poor Jew was sitting on the ground, covered over +with ashes. “My dear, I must have a hundred +pounds.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, madam, how am I to get them? The Prince-bishop +of the town has just had my teeth drawn to +make me say where my gold lies.<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> Look at my bleeding +mouth.”</p> + +<p>“I know, I know; but I come to obtain from you +the very means of destroying your Bishop. When the +Pope gets a cuffing, the Bishop will not hold out long.”</p> + +<p>“Who says so?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Toledo.</i>”<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></p> + +<p>He hung his head. She spoke and blew: within +her was her own soul and the Devil to boot. A +wondrous warmth filled the room: he himself was +aware of a kind of fiery fountain. “Madam,” said he, +looking at her from under his eyes, “poor and ruined +as I am, I had some pence still in store to sustain my +poor children.”</p> + +<p>“You will not repent of it, Jew. I will swear to you +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>the <i>great oath</i> that kills whoso breaks it. What you are +about to give me, you shall receive back in a week, at an +early hour in the morning. This I swear by your <i>great +oath</i> and by mine, which is yet greater: ‘<i>Toledo</i>.’”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>A year went by. She had grown round and plump; +had made herself one mass of gold. Men were +amazed at her power of charming. Every one admired +and obeyed her. By some devilish miracle the Jew +had grown so generous as to lend at the slightest +signal. By herself she maintained the castle, both +through her own credit in the town, and through the +fear inspired in the village by her rough extortion. +The all-powerful green gown floated to and fro, ever +newer and more beautiful. Her own beauty grew, as +it were, colossal with success and pride. Frightened at +a result so natural, everyone said, “At her time of +life how tall she grows!”</p> + +<p>Meanwhile we have some news: the lord is coming +home. The lady, who for a long time had not dared +to come forth, lest she might meet the face of this other +woman down below, now mounted her white horse. +Surrounded by all her people, she goes to meet her +husband; she stops and salutes him.</p> + +<p>And, first of all, she says, “How long I have been +looking for you! Why did you leave your faithful +wife so long a languishing widow? And yet I will +not take you in to-night, unless you grant me a boon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“Ask it, ask it, fair lady,” says the gentleman +laughing; “but make haste, for I am eager to embrace +you. How beautiful you have grown!”</p> + +<p>She whispered in his ear, so that no one knew what +she said. Before going up to the castle the worthy +lord dismounts by the village church, and goes in. +Under the porch, at the head of the chief people, he +beholds a lady, to whom without knowing her he offers +a low salute. With matchless pride she bears high +over the men’s heads the towering horned bonnet +(<i>hennin</i><a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a>) of the period; the triumphal cap of the +Devil, as it was often called, because of the two horns +wherewith it was embellished. The real lady, blushing +at her eclipse, went out looking very small. Anon +she muttered, angrily, “There goes your serf. It is +all over: everything has changed places: the ass insults +the horse.”</p> + +<p>As they are going off, a bold page, a pet of the +lady’s, draws from his girdle a well-sharpened dagger, +and with a single turn cleverly cuts the fine robe along +her loins.<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> The crowd was astonished, but began to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>make it out when it saw the whole of the Baron’s +household going off in pursuit of her. Swift and +merciless about her whistled and fell the strokes of the +whip. She flies, but slowly, being already grown +somewhat heavy. She has hardly gone twenty paces +when she stumbles; her best friend having put a stone +in her way to trip her up. Amidst roars of laughter +she sprawls yelling on the ground. But the ruthless +pages flog her up again. The noble handsome greyhounds +help in the chase and bite her in the tenderest +places. At last, in sad disorder, amidst the terrible +crowd, she reaches the door of her house. It is shut. +There with hands and feet she beats away, crying, +“Quick, quick, my love, open the door for me!” +There hung she, like the hapless screech-owl whom +they nail up on a farm-house door; and still as hard as +ever rained the blows. Within the house all is deaf. +Is the husband there? Or rather, being rich and +frightened, does he dread the crowd, lest they should +sack his house?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p><p>And now she has borne such misery, such strokes, +such sounding buffets, that she sinks down in a swoon. +On the cold stone threshold she finds herself seated, +naked, half-dead, her bleeding flesh covered with little +else than the waves of her long hair. Some one from +the castle says, “No more now! We do not want her +to die.”</p> + +<p>They leave her alone, to hide herself. But in +spirit she can see the merriment going on at the +castle. The lord however, somewhat dazed, said +that he was sorry for it. But the chaplain says, in +his meek way, “If this woman is <i>bedevilled</i>, as +they say, my lord, you owe it to your good vassals, +you owe it to the whole country, to hand her over +to Holy Church. Since all that business with the +Templars and the Pope, what way the Demon is +making! Nothing but fire will do for him.” +Upon which a Dominican says, “Your reverence +has spoken right well. This devilry is a heresy +in the highest degree. The bedevilled, like the +heretic, should be burnt. Some of our good fathers, +however, do not trust themselves now even to the +fire. Wisely they desire that, before all things, +the soul may be slowly purged, tried, subdued by +fastings; that it may not be burnt in its pride, +that it shall not triumph at the stake. If you, +madam, in the greatness of your piety, of your +charity, would take the trouble to work upon this +woman, putting her for some years <i>in pace</i> in a safe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +cell, of which you only should have the key,—by +thus keeping up the chastening process you might +be doing good to her soul, shaming the Devil, and +giving herself up meek and humble into the hands of +the Church.”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> Philip the Fair of France, who put down the Templar +in Paris, and first secured the liberties of the Gallican Church.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> The devils trouble the world all through the Middle Ages; +but not before the thirteenth century does Satan put on a +settled shape. “<i>Compacts</i>,” says M. Maury, “are very rare +before that epoch;” and I believe him. How could they treat +with one who as yet had no real existence? Neither of the +treating parties was yet ripe for the contract. Before the will +could be reduced to the dreadful pass of selling itself for ever, +it must be made thoroughly desperate. It is not the unhappy +who falls into despair, but the truly wretched, who being quite +conscious of his misery, and having yet more to suffer, can +find no escape therefrom. The wretched in this way are the +men of the fourteenth century, from whom they ask a thing so +impossible as payments in gold. In this and the following +chapter I have touched on the circumstances, the feelings, the +growing despair, which brought about the enormity of <i>compacts</i>, +and, worse still than these, the dreadful character of the <i>Witch</i>. +If the name was freely used, the thing itself was then rare, +being no less than a marriage and a kind of priesthood. For +ease of illustration, I have joined together the details of so +delicate a scrutiny by a thread of fiction. The outward body +of it matters little. The essential point is to remember that +such things were not caused, as they try to persuade us, by +<i>human fickleness, by the inconstancy of our fallen nature, by the +chance persuasions of desire</i>. There was needed the deadly +pressure of an age of iron, of cruel needs: it was needful that +Hell itself should seem a shelter, an asylum, by contrast with +the hell below.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> This was a common way of extracting help from the Jews. +King John Lackland often tried it.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> Toledo seems to have been the holy city of Wizards, who +in Spain were numberless. These relations with the civilized +Moors, with the Jews so learned and paramount in Spain, as +managers of the royal revenues, had given them a very high +degree of culture, and in Toledo they formed a kind of University. +In the sixteenth century, it was christianised, remodelled, +reduced to mere <i>white magic</i>. See the <i>Deposition of +the Wizard Achard, Lord of Beaumont, a Physician of Poitou</i>. +Lancre, <i>Incredulité</i>, p. 781.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> The absurd head-dress of the women, with its one and +often two horns sloping back from the head, in the fourteenth +century.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> Such cruel outrages were common in those days. By the +French and Anglo-Saxon laws, lewdness was thus punished. +Grimm, 679, 711. Sternhook, 19, 326. Ducange, iii. 52. +Michelet, <i>Origines</i>, 386, 389. By and by, the same rough usage +is dealt out to honest women, to citizen’s wives, whose pride +the nobles seek to abase. We know the kind of ambush into +which the tyrant Hagenbach drew the honourable ladies of +the chief burghers in Alsace, probably in scorn of their rich +and royal costume, all silks and gold. In my <i>Origines</i> I have +also related the strange claim made by the Lord of Pacé, in +Anjou, on the pretty (and honest) women of the neighbourhood. +They were to bring to the castle fourpence and a +chaplet of flowers, and to dance with his officers: a dangerous +trip, in which they might well fear some such affronts as those +offered by Hagenbach. They were forced to obey by the threat +of being stripped and pricked with a goad bearing the impress +of the lord’s arms.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE COVENANT.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Nothing</span> was wanting but the victim. They knew +that to bring this woman before her was the most +charming present she could receive. Tenderly would +she have acknowledged the devotion of anyone +who would have given her so great a token of his +love, by delivering that poor bleeding body into her +hands.</p> + +<p>But the prey was aware of the hunters. A few +minutes later and she would have been carried off, to +be for ever sealed up beneath the stone. Wrapping +herself in some rags found by chance in the stable, +she took to herself wings of some kind, and before +midnight gained some out-of-the-way spot on a lonely +moor all covered with briars and thistles. It was on +the skirts of a wood, where by the uncertain light she +might gather a few acorns, to swallow them like a +beast. Ages had elapsed since evening; she was +utterly changed. Beauty and queen of the village no +more, she seemed with the change in her spirit to +have changed her postures also. Among her acorns +she squatted like a boar or a monkey. Thoughts far +from human circled within her as she heard, or seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +to hear the hooting of an owl, followed by a burst of +shrill laughter. She felt afraid, but perhaps it was +the merry mockbird mimicking all those sounds, according +to its wonted fashion.</p> + +<p>But the laughter begins again: whence comes it? +She can see nothing. Apparently it comes from an old +oak. Distinctly, however, she hears these words: “So, +here you are at last! You have come with an ill grace; +nor would you have come now, if you had not tried +the full depth of your last need. You were fain first +to run the gauntlet of whips; to cry out and plead for +mercy, haughty as you were; to be mocked, undone, +forsaken, unsheltered even by your husband. Where +would you have been this night, if I had not been +charitable enough to show you the <i>in pace</i> getting +ready for you in the tower? Late, very late, you are +in coming to me, and only after they have called you +the <i>old woman</i>. In your youth you did not treat me +well, when I was your wee goblin, so eager to serve +you. Now take your turn, if so I wish it, to serve me +and kiss my feet.</p> + +<p>“You were mine from birth through your inborn +wickedness, through those devilish charms of yours. I +was your lover, your husband. Your own has shut +his door against you: I will not shut mine. I welcome +you to my domains, my free prairies, my woods. How +am I the gainer, you may say? Could I not long +since have had you at any hour? Were you not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +invaded, possessed, filled with my flame? I changed +your blood and renewed it: not a vein in your body +where I do not flow. You know not yourself how +utterly you are mine. But our wedding has yet to be +celebrated with all the forms. I have some manners, +and feel rather scrupulous. Let us be one for everlasting.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! sir, in my present state, what should I say? +For a long, long while back have I felt, too truly felt, +that you were all my fate. With evil intent you +caressed me, loaded me with favours, and made me +rich, in order at length to cast me down. Yesterday, +when the black greyhound bit my poor naked flesh, +its teeth scorched me, and I said, ‘’Tis he!’ At night +when that daughter of Herodias with her foul language +scared the company, somebody put them up to the promising +her my blood; and that was you!”</p> + +<p>“True; but ’twas I who saved you and brought you +hither. I did everything, as you have guessed. I +ruined you, and why? That I might have you all to +myself. To speak frankly, I was tired of your husband. +You took to haggling and pettifogging: far otherwise +do I go to work; I want all or none. This is why I have +moulded and drilled you, polished and ripened you, for +my own behoof. Such, you see, is my delicacy of taste. +I don’t take, as people imagine, those foolish souls who +would give themselves up at once. I prefer the choicer +spirits, who have reached a certain dainty stage of fury<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +and despair. Stop: I must let you know how pleasant +you look at this moment. You are a great beauty, a +most desirable soul. I have loved you ever so long, but +now I am hungering for you.</p> + +<p>“I will do things on a large scale, not being one of +those husbands who reckon with their betrothed. If +you wanted only riches, you should have them in a +trice. If you wanted to be queen in the stead of Joan +of Navarre, that too, though difficult, should be done, +and the King would not lose much thereby in the +matter of pride and haughtiness. My wife is greater +than a queen. But, come, tell me what you wish.”</p> + +<p>“Sir, I ask only for the power of doing evil.”</p> + +<p>“A delightful answer, very delightful! Have I not +cause to love you? In reality those words contain all +the law and all the prophets. Since you have made so +good a choice, all the rest shall be thrown in, over and +above. You shall learn all my secrets. You shall see +into the depths of the earth. The whole world shall +come and pour out gold at thy feet. See here, my +bride, I give you the true diamond, <i>Vengeance</i>. I +know you, rogue; I know your most hidden desires. +Ay, our hearts on that point understand each other +well! Therein at least shall I have full possession of +you. You shall behold your enemy on her knees at +your feet, begging and praying for mercy, and only too +happy to earn her release by doing whatever she has +made you do. She will burst into tears; and you will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +graciously say, <i>No</i>: whereon she will cry, ‘Death and +damnation!’ ... Come, I will make this my special +business.”</p> + +<p>“Sir, I am at your service. I was thankless indeed, +for you have always heaped favours on me. I am +yours, my master, my god! None other do I desire. +Sweet are your endearments, and very mild your service.”</p> + +<p>And so she worships him, tumbling on all-fours. +At first she pays him, after the forms of the Temple, +such homage as betokens the utter abandonment of +the will. Her master, the Prince of this World, the +Prince of the Winds, breathes upon her in his turn, +like an eager spirit. She receives at once the three +sacraments, in reverse order—baptism, priesthood, and +marriage. In this new Church, the exact opposite of +the other, everything must be done the wrong way. +Meekly, patiently, she endures the cruel initiation,<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> +borne up by that one word, “Vengeance!”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Far from being crushed or weakened by the infernal +thunderbolt, she arose with an awful vigour and flashing +eyes. The moon, which for a moment had chastely +covered herself, took flight on seeing her again. Blown +out to an amazing degree by the hellish vapour, filled +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>with fire, with fury, and with some new ineffable desire, +she grew for a while enormous with excess of fulness, +and displayed a terrible beauty. She looked around +her, and all nature was changed. The trees had gotten +a tongue, and told of things gone by. The herbs became +simples. The plants which yesterday she trod +upon as so much hay, were now as people discoursing +on the art of medicine.</p> + +<p>She awoke on the morrow far, very far, from her +enemies, in a state of thorough security. She had been +sought after, but they had only found some scattered +shreds of her unlucky green gown. Had she in her +despair flung herself headlong into the torrent? Or +had she been carried off alive by the Devil? No one +could tell. Either way she was certainly damned, +which greatly consoled the lady for having failed to +find her.</p> + +<p>Had they seen her they would hardly have known +her again, she was so changed. Only the eyes remained, +not brilliant, but armed with a very strange +and a rather deterring glimmer. She herself was afraid +of frightening: she never lowered them, but looked +sideways, so that the full force of their beams might +be lost by slanting them. From the sudden browning +of her hue people would have said that she had passed +through the flame. But the more watchful felt that +the flame was rather in herself, that she bore about her +an impure and scorching heat. The fiery dart with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +which Satan had pierced her was still there, and, as +through a baleful lamp, shot forth a wild, but fearfully +witching sheen. Shrinking from her, you would +yet stand still, with a strange trouble filling your every +sense.</p> + +<p>She saw herself at the mouth of one of those troglodyte +caves, such as you find without number in +the hills of the Centre and the West of France. It +was in the borderland, then wild, between the country +of Merlin and the country of Melusina. Some moors +stretching out of sight still bear witness to the ancient +wars, the unceasing havoc, the many horrors, which +prevented the country being peopled again. There the +Devil was in his home. Of the few inhabitants most +were his zealous worshippers. Whatever attractions he +might have found in the rough brakes of Lorraine, the +black pine-forests of the Jura, or the briny deserts of +Burgos, his preferences lay, perhaps, in our western +marches. There might be found not only the visionary +shepherd, that Satanic union of the goat and the goatherd, +but also a closer conspiracy with nature, a deeper +insight into remedies and poisons, a mysterious connection, +whose links we know not, with Toledo the +learned, the University of the Devil.</p> + +<p>The winter was setting in: its breath having first +stripped the trees, had heaped together the leaves and +small boughs of dead wood. All this she found prepared +for her at the mouth of her gloomy den. By a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +wood and moor, half a mile across, you came down +within reach of some villages, which had grown up +beside a watercourse. “Behold your kingdom!” said +the voice within her. “To-day a beggar, to-morrow +you shall be queen of the whole land.”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> This will be explained further on. We must guard against +the pedantic additions of the sixteenth century writers.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE KING OF THE DEAD.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">At</span> first she was not much affected by promises like +these. A lonely hermitage without God, amidst the +great monotonous breezes of the West, amidst memories +all the more ruthless for that mighty solitude, +of such heavy losses, such sharp affronts; a widowhood +so hard and sudden, away from the husband who had +left her to her shame—all this was enough to bow her +down. Plaything of fate, she seemed like the wretched +weed upon the moor, having no root, but tossed to and +fro, lashed and cruelly cut by the north-east winds; or +rather, perhaps, like the grey, many-cornered coral, +which only sticks fast to get more easily broken. The +children trampled on her; the people said, with a +laugh, “She is the bride of the winds.”</p> + +<p>Wildly she laughed at herself when she thought on +the comparison. But, from the depth of her dark +cave, she heard,—</p> + +<p>“Ignorant and witless, you know not what you +say. The plant thus tossing to and fro may well look +down upon the rank and vulgar herbs. If it tosses, it +is, at least, all self-contained—itself both flower and +seed. Do thou be like it; be thine own root, and even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +in the whirlwind thou wilt still bear thy blossom: our +own flowers for ourselves, as they come forth from the +dust of tombs and the ashes of volcanoes.</p> + +<p>“To thee, first flower of Satan, do I this day grant +the knowledge of my former name, my olden power. +I was, I am, the <i>King of the Dead</i>. Ay, have I not +been sadly slandered? ’Tis I who alone can make +them reappear; a boon untold, for which I surely deserved +an altar.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>To pierce the future and to call up the past, to forestal +and to live again the swift-flying moments, to +enlarge the present with that which has been and that +which will be—these are the two things forbidden to +the Middle Ages; but forbidden in vain. Nature is +invincible; nothing can be gained in such a quarter. +He who thus errs is <i>a man</i>. It is not for him to be +rooted to his furrow, with eyes cast down, looking nowhere +beyond the steps he takes behind his oxen. No: +we will go forward with head upraised, looking further +and looking deeper! This earth that we measure out +with so much care, we kick our feet upon withal, and +keep ever saying to it, “What dost thou hold in thy +bowels? What secrets lie therein? Thou givest us +back the grain we entrust to thee; but not that human +seed, those beloved dead, we have lent into thy charge. +Our friends, our loves, that lie there, will they never +bud again? Oh, that we might see them, if only for +one hour, if only for one moment!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Some day we ourselves shall reach the unknown +land, whither they have already gone. But shall we +see them again there? Shall we dwell with them? +Where are they, and what are they doing? They must +be kept very close prisoners, these dear dead of mine, +to give me not one token! And how can I make them +hear me? My father, too, whose only hope I was, +who loved me with so mighty a love, why comes he +never to me? Ah, me! on either side is bondage, +imprisonment, mutual ignorance; a dismal night, +where we look in vain for one glimmer!”<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></p> + +<p>These everlasting thoughts of Nature, from having +in olden times been simply mournful, became in the +Middle Ages painful, bitter, weakening, and the heart +thereby grew smaller. It seems as if they had reckoned +on flattening the soul, on pressing and squeezing it down +to the compass of a bier. The burial of the serf between +four deal boards was well suited to such an end: +it haunted one with the notion of being smothered. +A person thus enclosed, if ever he returned in one’s +dreams, would no longer appear as a thin luminous +shadow encircled by a halo of Elysium, but only as +the wretched sport of some hellish griffin-cat. What +a hateful and impious idea, that my good, kind father, +my mother so revered by all, should become the plaything +of such a beast! You may laugh now, but for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>a thousand years it was no laughing matter: they +wept bitterly. And even now the heart swells with +wrath, the very pen grates angrily upon the paper, as +one writes down these blasphemous doings.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Moreover, it was surely a cruel device to transfer +the Festival of the Dead from the Spring, where antiquity +had placed it, to November. In May, where +it fell at first, they were buried among the flowers. +In March, wherein it was afterwards placed, it became +the signal for labour and the lark. The dead and the +seed of corn entered the earth together with the same +hope. But in November, when all the work is done, +the weather close and gloomy for many days to come; +when the folk return to their homes; when a man, re-seating +himself by the hearth, looks across on that +place for evermore empty—ah, me! at such a time +how great the sorrow grows! Clearly, in choosing a +moment already in itself so funereal, for the obsequies +of Nature, they feared that a man would not find +cause enough of sorrow in himself!</p> + +<p>The coolest, the busiest of men, however taken up +they be with life’s distracting cares, have, at least, +their sadder moments. In the dark wintry morning, +in the night that comes on so swift to swallow us up +in its shadow, ten years, nay, twenty years hence, +strange feeble voices will rise up in your heart: “Good +morning, dear friend, ’tis we! You are alive, are +working as hard as ever. So much the better! You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +do not feel our loss so heavily, and you have learned +to do without us; but we cannot, we never can, do +without you. The ranks are closed, the gap is all but +filled. The house that was ours is full, and we have +blessed it. All is well, is better than when your father +carried you about; better than when your little girl +said, in her turn, to you, ‘Papa, carry me.’ But, lo! +you are in tears. Enough, till we meet again!”</p> + +<p>Alas, and are they gone? That wail was sweet and +piercing: but was it just? No. Let me forget myself +a thousand times rather than I should forget them! +And yet, cost what it will to say so, say it we must, that +certain traces are fading off, are already less clear to +see; that certain features are not indeed effaced, but +grown paler and more dim. A hard, a bitter, a +humbling thought it is, to find oneself so weak and +fleeting, wavering as unremembered water; to feel that +in time one loses that treasure of grief which one had +hoped to preserve for ever. Give it me back, I pray: I +am too much bounden to so rich a fountain of tears. +Trace me again, I implore you, those features I love so +well. Could you not help me at least to dream of them +by night?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>More than one such prayer is spoken in the month of +November. And amidst the striking of the bells and the +dropping of the leaves, they clear out of church, saying +one to another in low tones: “I say, neighbour; up there +lives a woman of whom folk speak well and ill. For<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +myself, I dare say nothing; but she has power over the +world below. She calls up the dead, and they come. +Oh, if she might—without sin, you know, without +angering God—make my friends come to me! I am +alone, as you must know, and have lost everything in +this world. But who knows what this woman is, +whether of hell or heaven? I won’t go (he is dying +of curiosity all the while); I won’t. I have no wish +to endanger my soul: besides, the wood yonder is +haunted. Many’s the time that things unfit to see +have been found on the moor. Haven’t you heard +about Jacqueline, who was there one evening looking +for one of her sheep? Well, when she returned, she +was crazy. I won’t go.”</p> + +<p>Thus unknown to each other, many of the men at +least went thither. For as yet the women hardly dared +so great a risk. They remark the dangers of the road, +ask many questions of those who return therefrom. +The new Pythoness is not like her of Endor, who +raised up Samuel at the prayer of Saul. Instead of +showing you the ghosts, she gives you cabalistic words +and powerful potions to bring them back in your +dreams. Ah, how many a sorrow has recourse to +these! The grandmother herself, tottering with her +eighty years, would behold her grandson again. By +an unwonted effort, yet not without a pang of shame +at sinning on the edge of the grave, she drags herself +to the spot. She is troubled by the savage look of a +place all rough with yews and thorns, by the rude,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +dark beauty of that relentless Proserpine. Prostrate, +trembling, grovelling on the ground, the poor old +woman weeps and prays. Answer there is none. But +when she dares to lift herself up a little, she sees that +Hell itself has been a-weeping.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It is simply Nature recovering herself. Proserpine +blushes self-indignantly thereat. “Degenerate soul!” +she calls herself, “why this weakness? You came +hither with the firm desire of doing nought but evil. +Is this your master’s lesson? How he will laugh +at you for this!”</p> + +<p>“Nay! Am I not the great shepherd of the shades, +making them come and go, opening unto them the +gate of dreams? Your Dante, when he drew my likeness, +forgot my attributes. When he gave me that +useless tail, he did not see that I held the shepherd’s +staff of Osiris; that from Mercury I had inherited his +caduceus. In vain have they thought to build up an +insurmountable wall between the two worlds; I have +wings to my heels, I have flown over. By a kindly +rebellion of that slandered Spirit, of that ruthless +monster, succour has been given to those who mourned; +mothers, lovers, have found comfort. He has taken +pity on them in defiance of their new god.”</p> + +<p>The scribes of the Middle Ages, being all of the +priestly class, never cared to acknowledge the deep but +silent changes of the popular mind. It is clear that +from thenceforth compassion goes over to Satan’s side.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +The Virgin herself, ideal as she is of grace, makes no +answer to such a want of the heart. Neither does the +Church, who expressly forbids the calling up of the +dead. While all books delight in keeping up either +the swinish demon of earlier times, or the griffin butcher +of the second period, Satan has changed his shape for +those who cannot write. He retains somewhat of the +ancient Pluto; but his pale nor wholly ruthless majesty, +that permitted the dead to come back, the living +once more to see the dead, passes ever more and more +into the nature of his father, or his grandfather, +Osiris, the shepherd of souls.</p> + +<p>Through this one change come many others. Men +with their mouths acknowledge the hell official and +the boiling caldrons; but in their hearts do they +truly believe therein? Would it be so easy to win +these infernal favours for hearts beset with hateful traditions +of a hell of torments? The one idea neutralizes +without wholly effacing the other, and between +them grows up a vague mixed image, resembling more +and more nearly the hell of Virgil. A mighty solace +was here offered to the human heart. Blessed above +all was the relief thus given to the poor women, whom +that dreadful dogma about the punishment of their +loved dead had kept drowned in tears and inconsolable. +The whole of their lifetime had been but one long +sigh.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Sibyl was musing over her master’s words,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +when a very light step became audible. The day has +scarcely dawned: it is after Christmas, about the first +day of the new year. Over the crisp and rimy grass +approaches a small, fair woman, all a-trembling, who +has no sooner reached the spot, than she swoons and +loses her breath. Her black gown tells plainly of her +widowhood. To the piercing gaze of Medea, without +moving or speaking, she reveals all: there is no mystery +about her shrinking figure. The other says to +her with a loud voice: “You need not tell me, little +dumb creature, for you would never get to the end of +it. I will speak for you. Well, you are dying of +love!” Recovering a little, she clasps her hands +together, and sinking almost on her knees, tells everything, +making a full confession. She had suffered, +wept, prayed, and would have silently suffered on. +But these winter feasts, these family re-unions, the +ill-concealed happiness of other women who, without +pity for her, showed off their lawful loves, had driven +the burning arrow again into her heart. Alas, what +could she do? If he might but return and comfort +her for one moment! “Be it even at the cost of +my life; let me die, but only let me see him once +more!”</p> + +<p>“Go back to your house: shut the door carefully: +put up the shutter even against any curious neighbour. +Throw off your mourning, and put on your wedding-clothes; +place a cover for him on the table; but yet +he will not come. You will sing the song he made for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +you, and sang to you so often, but yet he will +not come. Then you shall draw out of your box +the last dress he wore, and, kissing it, say, ‘So +much the worse for thee if thou wilt not come!’ +And presently when you have drunk this wine, bitter, +but very sleepful, you will lie down as a wedded bride. +Then assuredly he will come to you.”</p> + +<p>The little creature would have been no woman, if +next morning she had not shown her joy and tenderness +by owning the miracle in whispers to her best +friend. “Say nought of it, I beg. But he himself +told me, that if I wore this gown and slept a deep sleep +every Sunday, he would return.”</p> + +<p>A happiness not without some danger. Where +would the rash woman be, if the Church learned that +she was no longer a widow; that re-awakened by her +love, the spirit came to console her?</p> + +<p>But strange to tell, the secret is kept. There is an +understanding among them all, to hide so sweet a +mystery. For who has no concern therein? Who +has not lost and mourned? Who would not gladly +see this bridge created between two worlds? “O +thou beneficent Witch! Blessed be thou, spirit of the +nether world!”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> The glimmer shines forth in Dumesnil’s <i>Immortalité</i>, and +<i>La Foi Nouvelle</i>, in the <i>Ciel et Terre</i> of Reynaud, Henry Martin, +&c.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE PRINCE OF NATURE.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Hard</span> is the long sad winter of the North-west. +Even after its departure it renews its visits, like a +drowsy sorrow which ever and again comes back and +rages afresh. One morning everything wakes up +decked with bright needles. In this cruel mocking +splendour that makes one shiver through and through, +the whole vegetable world seems turned mineral, loses +its sweet diversity, and freezes into a mass of rough +crystals.</p> + +<p>The poor Sibyl, as she sits benumbed by her hearth +of leaves, scourged by the flaying north-east winds, +feels at her heart a cruel pang, for she feels herself all +alone. But that very thought again brings her relief. +With returning pride returns a vigour that warms her +heart and lights up her soul. Intent, quick, and +sharp, her sight becomes as piercing as those needles; +and the world, the cruel world that caused her suffering, +is to her transparent as glass. Anon she rejoices +over it, as over a conquest of her making.</p> + +<p>For is she not a queen, a queen with courtiers of her +own? The crows have clearly some connection with +her. In grave, dignified body they come like ancient<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +augurs, to talk to her of passing things. The wolves +passing by salute her timidly with sidelong glances. +The bear, then oftener seen than now, would sometimes, +in his heavily good-natured way, seat himself +awkwardly at the threshold of her den, like a hermit +calling on a fellow-hermit, just as we often see him in +the Lives of the Desert Fathers.</p> + +<p>All those birds and beasts with whom men only +made acquaintance in hunting or slaying them, were +outlawed as much as she. With all these she comes to +an understanding; for Satan as the chief outlaw, +imparts to his own the pleasures of natural freedom, +the wild delight of living in a world sufficient unto +itself.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Rough freedom of loneliness, all hail! The whole +earth seems still clothed in a white shroud, held in +bondage by a load of ice, of pitiless crystals, so uniform, +sharp, and agonizing. After the year 1200 +especially, the world is shut in like a transparent +tomb, wherein all things look terribly motionless, hard, +and stiff.</p> + +<p>The Gothic Church has been called a “crystallization;” +and so it truly is. About 1300, architecture +gave up all its old variety of form and living fancies, +to repeat itself for evermore, to vie with the monotonous +prisms of Spitzbergen, to become the true and +awful likeness of that hard crystal city, in which a +dreadful dogma thought to bury all life away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>But for all the props, buttresses, flying-buttresses, +that keep the monument up, one thing there is that +makes it totter. There is no loud battering from without, +but a certain softness in the very foundations, +which attacks the crystal with an imperceptible thaw. +What thing do I mean? The humble stream of warm +tears shed by a whole world, until they have become a +very sea of wailings. What do I call it? A breath of +the future, a stirring of the natural life, which shall +presently rise again in irresistible might. The fantastic +building of which more than one side is already +sinking, says, not without terror, to itself, “It is the +breath of Satan.”</p> + +<p>Beneath this Hecla-glacier lies a volcano which has +no need of bursting out; a mild, slow, gentle heat, +which caresses it from below, and, calling it nearer, +says in a whisper, “Come down.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Witch has something to laugh at, if from the +gloom she can see how utterly Dante and St. Thomas,<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> +in the bright light yonder, ignore the true position of +things. They fancy that the Devil wins his way by +cunning or by terror. They make him grotesque and +coarse, as in his childhood, when Jesus could still send +him into the herd of swine. Or else they make him +subtle as a logician of the schools, or a fault-finding +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>lawyer. If he had been no better than this compound +of beast and disputant,—if he had only lived in the +mire or on fine-drawn quibbles about nothing, he +would very soon have died of hunger.</p> + +<p>People were too ready to crow over him, when he +was shewn by Bartolus<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> pleading against the woman—that +is, the Virgin—who gets him nonsuited and condemned +with costs. At that time, indeed, the very +contrary was happening on earth. By a master-stroke +of his he had won over the plaintiff herself, his fair +antagonist, the Woman; had seduced her, not indeed +by verbal pleadings, but by arguments not less real +than they were charming and irresistible. He put into +her hands the fruits of science and of nature.</p> + +<p>No need for controversies, for pleas of any kind: +he simply shows himself. In the East, the new-found +Paradise, he begins to work. From that Asian world, +which men had thought to destroy, there springs forth +a peerless day-dawn, whose beams travel afar until +they pierce the deep winter of the West. There dawns +on us a world of nature and of art, accursed of the +ignorant indeed, but now at length come forward to +vanquish its late victors in a pleasant war of love and +motherly endearments. All are conquered, all rave +about it; they will have nothing but Asia herself. +With her hands full she comes to meet us. Her +tissues, shawls, her carpets so agreeably soft, so +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>wondrously harmonized, her bright and well-wrought +blades, her richly damascened arms, make us aware of +our own barbarism. Moreover, little as that may +seem, these accursed lands of the “miscreant,” ruled +by Satan, are visibly blessed with the fairest fruits of +nature, that elixir of the powers of God; with <i>the first +of vegetables</i>, coffee; with <i>the first of beasts</i>, the Arab +horse. What am I saying?—with a whole world of +treasures, silk, sugar, and a host of herbs all-powerful +to relieve the heart, to soothe and lighten our sufferings.</p> + +<p>All this breaks upon our view about the year 1300. +Spain herself, whose brain is wholly fashioned out of +Moors and Jews, for all that she is again subdued by +the barbarous children of the Goth, bears witness in +behalf of those <i>miscreants</i>. Wherever the Mussulman +children of the Devil are at work, all is prosperous, the +springs well forth, the ground is covered with flowers. +A right worthy and harmless travail decks it with those +wondrous vineyards, through which men recruit themselves, +drowning all care, and seeming to drink in +draughts of very goodness and heavenly compassion.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>To whom does Satan bring the foaming cup of life? +In this fasting world, which has so long been fasting +from reason, what man was there strong enough to +take all this in without growing giddy, without getting +drunken and risking the loss of his wits?</p> + +<p>Is there yet a brain so far from being petrified or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +crystallized by the teaching of St. Thomas, as to remain +open to the living world, to its vegetative forces? +Three magicians, Albert the Great, Roger Bacon, +Arnaud of Villeneuve,<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> by strong efforts make their +way to Nature’s secrets; but those lusty intellects lack +flexibility and popular power. Satan falls back on his +own Eve. The woman is still the most natural thing +in the world; still keeps her hold on those traits of +roguish innocence one sees in a kitten or a child of +very high spirit. Besides, she figures much better in +that world-comedy, that mighty game wherewith the +universal Proteus disports himself.</p> + +<p>But being light and changeful, she is all the less +liable to be carked and hardened by pain! This woman, +whom we have seen outlawed from the world, and +rooted on her wild moor, affords a case in point. Have +we yet to learn whether, bruised and soured as she is, +with her heart full of hate, she will re-enter the natural +world and the pleasant paths of life? Assuredly her +return thither will not find her in good tune, will +happen mainly through a round of ill. In the coming +and going of the storm she is all the more scared and +violent for being so very weak.</p> + +<p>When in the mild warmth of spring, from the air, +the depths of the earth, from the flowers and their +languages, a new revelation rises round her on every +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>side, she is taken dizzy at the first. Her swelling +bosom overflows. The Sibyl of science has her +tortures, like her of Cumæ or of Delphi. The schoolmen +find their fun in saying, “It is the wind and +nought else that blows her out. Her lover, the Prince +of the Air, fills her with dreams and delusions, with +wind, with smoke, with emptiness.” Foolish irony! +So far from this being the true cause of her drunkenness, +it is nothing empty, it is a real, a substantial +thing, which has loaded her bosom all too quickly.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Have you ever seen the agave, that hard wild African +shrub, so sharp, bitter, and tearing, with huge bristles +instead of leaves? Ten years through it loves and +dies. At length one day the amorous shoot, which +has so long been gathering in the rough thing, goes +off with a noise like gunfire, and darts skyward. And +this shoot becomes a whole tree, not less than thirty +feet high, and bristling with sad flowers.</p> + +<p>Some such analogy does the gloomy Sibyl feel, when +one morning of a spring-time, late in coming, and +therefore impetuous at the last, there takes place all +around her a vast explosion of life.</p> + +<p>And all things look at her, and all things bloom for +her. For every thing that has life says softly, “Whoso +understands me, I am his.”</p> + +<p>What a contrast! Here is the wife of the desert +and of despair, bred up in hate and vengeance, and lo! +all these innocent things agree to smile upon her!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +The trees, soothed by the south wind, pay her gentle +homage. Each herb of the field, with its own special +virtue of scent, or remedy, or poison—very often the +three things are one—offers itself to her, saying, +“Gather me.”</p> + +<p>All things are clearly in love. “Are they not +mocking me? I had been readier for hell than for +this strange festival. O spirit, art thou indeed that +spirit of dread whom once I knew, the traces of whose +cruelty I bear about me—what am I saying, and where +are my senses?—the wound of whose dealing scorches +me still?</p> + +<p>“Ah, no! ’Tis not the spirit whom I hoped for in +my rage; ‘<i>he who always says, No!</i>’ This other one +utters a yes of love, of drunken dizziness. What ails +him? Is he the mad, the dazed soul of life?</p> + +<p>“They spoke of the great Pan as dead. But here +he is in the guise of Bacchus, of Priapus, eager with +long-delayed desire, threatening, scorching, teeming. +No, no! Be this cup far from me! Trouble only +should I drink from it,—who knows? A despair yet +sharper than my past despairs.”</p> + +<p>Meanwhile wherever the woman appears, she becomes +the one great object of love. She is followed by all, +and for her sake all despise their own proper kind. +What they say about the black he-goat, her pretended +favourite, may be applied to all. The horse neighs for +her, breaking everything and putting her in danger. +The awful king of the prairie, the black bull, bellows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +with grief, should she pass him by at a distance. And, +behold, yon bird despondingly turns away from his +hen, and with whirring wings hastes to convince the +woman of his love!</p> + +<p>Such is the new tyranny of her master, who, by the +funniest hap of all, foregoes the part accredited to him +as king of the dead, to burst forth a very king of +life.</p> + +<p>“No!” she says; “leave me to my hatred: I +ask for nothing more. Let me be feared and fearful! +The beauty I would have, is only that which dwells in +these black serpents of my hair, in this countenance +furrowed with grief, and the scars of thy thunderbolt.” +But the Lord of Evil replies with cunning softness: +“Oh, but you are only the more beautiful, the more +impressible, for this fiery rage of yours! Ay, call out +and curse on, beneath one and the same goad! ’Tis +but one storm calling another. Swift and smooth is the +passage from wrath to pleasure.”</p> + +<p>Neither her fury nor her pride would have saved her +from such allurements. But she is saved by the boundlessness +of her desire. There is nought will satisfy her. +Each kind of life for her is all too bounded, wanting in +power. Away from her, steed and bull and loving bird! +Away, ye creatures all! for one who desires the Infinite, +how weak ye are!</p> + +<p>She has a woman’s longing; but for what? Even +for the whole, the great all-containing whole. Satan +did not foresee that no one creature would content her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>That which he could not do, is done for her in some +ineffable way. Overcome by a desire so wide and +deep, a longing boundless as the sea, she falls asleep. +At such a moment, all else forgot, no touch of hate, no +thought of vengeance left in her, she slumbers on the +plain, innocent in her own despite, stretched out in +easy luxuriance like a sheep or a dove.</p> + +<p>She sleeps, she dreams; a delightful dream! It +seemed as if the wondrous might of universal life had +been swallowed up within her; as if life and death and +all things thenceforth lay fast in her bowels; as if in +return for all her suffering, she was teeming at last +with Nature herself.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> St. Thomas Aquinas, the “Angelic Doctor,” who died in +1274.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> Bartolus or Bartoli, a lawyer and law-writer of the fourteenth +century.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> Three eminent schoolmen of the thirteenth century, whose +scientific researches pointed the way to future discoveries.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE DEVIL A PHYSICIAN.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">That</span> still and dismal scene of the Bride of Corinth, +is repeated literally from the thirteenth to the fifteenth +century. While it was yet night, just before the daybreak, +the two lovers, Man and Nature, meet again, +embrace with rapture, and, at that same moment—horrible +to tell!—behold themselves attacked by fearful +plagues. We seem still to hear the loved one saying +to her lover, “It is all over: thy hair will be white +to-morrow. I am dead, and thou too wilt die.”</p> + +<p>Three dreadful blows happen in these three centuries. +In the first we have a loathsome changing of the +outer man, diseases of the skin, above all, leprosy. In +the second, the evil turns inwards, becomes a grotesque +excitement of the nerves, a fit of epileptic +dancing. Then all grows calm, but the blood is changed, +and ulcers prepare the way for syphilis, the scourge of +the fifteenth century.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Among the chief diseases of the Middle Ages, so +far as one can look therein, to speak generally, had +been hunger, weakness, poverty of blood, that kind +of consumption which is visible in the sculptures of +that time. The blood was like clear water, and scrofulous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +ailments were rife everywhere. Barring the +well-paid doctors, Jew or Arab, of the kings, the art of +medicine was practised only with, holy water at the +church door. Thither on Sundays, after the service, +would come a crowd of sick, to whom words like these +were spoken: “You have sinned and God has afflicted +you. Be thankful: so much the less will you suffer +in the next world. Resign yourselves to suffer and to +die. The Church has prayers for the dead.” Weak, +languishing, hopeless, with no desire to live, they +followed this counsel faithfully, and let life go its way.</p> + +<p>A fatal discouragement, a wretched state of things, +that would have prolonged without end these ages of +lead, and debarred them from all progress! Worst of +all things is it to resign oneself so readily, to welcome +death with so much docility, to have strength for +nothing, to desire nothing. Of more worth was that +new era, that close of the Middle Ages, which at the +cost of cruel sufferings first enabled us to regain our +former energy; namely, <i>the resurrection of desire</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Some Arab writers have asserted that the widespread +eruption of skin-diseases which marks the thirteenth +century, was caused by the taking of certain stimulants +to re-awaken and renew the defaults of passion. +Undoubtedly the burning spices brought over from the +East, tended somewhat to such an issue. The invention +of distilling and of divers fermented drinks may +also have worked in the same direction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>But a greater and far more general fermentation was +going on. During the sharp inward struggle between +two worlds and two spirits, a third surviving silenced +both. As the fading faith and the newborn reason +were disputing together, somebody stepping between +them caught hold of man. You ask who? A spirit +unclean and raging, the spirit of sour desires, bubbling +painfully within.</p> + +<p>Debarred from all outlet, whether of bodily enjoyment, +or the free flow of soul, the sap of life thus +closely rammed together, was sure to corrupt itself. +Bereft of light, of sound, of speech, it spoke through +pains and ominous excrescences. Then happened a +new and dreadful thing. The desire put off without +being diminished, finds itself stopped short by a cruel +enchantment, a shocking metamorphosis.<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> Love was +advancing blindly with open arms. It recoils groaning; +but in vain would it flee: the fire of the blood keeps +raging; the flesh eats itself away in sharp titillations, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>and sharper within rages the coal of fire, made fiercer +by despair.</p> + +<p>What remedy does Christian Europe find for this +twofold ill? Death and captivity; nothing more. +When the bitter celibacy, the hopeless love, the passion +irritable and ever-goading, bring you into a morbid +state; when your blood is decomposing, then you shall +go down into an <i>In pace</i>, or build your hut in the +desert. You must live with the handbell in your hand, +that all may flee before you. “No human being must +see you: no consolation may be yours. If you come +near, ’tis death.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Leprosy is the last stage, the <i>apogee</i> of this scourge; +but a thousand other ills, less hideous but still cruel, +raged everywhere. The purest and the most fair were +stricken with sad eruptions, which men regarded as sin +made visible, or the chastisement of God. Then people +did what the love of life had never made them do: +they forsook the old sacred medicine, the bootless +holy water, and went off to the Witch. From habit +and fear as well, they still repaired to church; but +thenceforth their true church was with her, on the +moor, in the forest, in the desert. To her they carried +their vows.</p> + +<p>Prayers for healing, prayers for pleasure. On the +first effervescing of their heated blood, folk went to +the Sibyl, in great secrecy, at uncertain hours. “What<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +shall I do? and what is this I feel within me? I +burn: give me some lenitive. I burn: grant me that +which causes my intolerable desire.”</p> + +<p>A bold, a blamable journey, for which they reproach +themselves at night. Let this new fatality be +never so urgent, this fire be never so torturing, the +Saints themselves never so powerless; still, have not +the indictment of the Templars and the proceedings of +Pope Boniface unveiled the Sodom lying hid beneath +the altar? But a wizard Pope, a friend of the Devil, +who also carried him away, effects a change in all their +ideas. Was it not with the Demon’s help that John +XXII., the son of a shoemaker, a Pope no more of +Rome, succeeded in amassing in his town of Avignon +more gold than the Emperor and all the kings? As +the Pope is, so is the bishop. Did not Guichard, +Bishop of Troyes, procure from the Devil the death of +the King’s daughters? No death we ask for—we; but +pleasant things—for life, for health, for beauty, and +for pleasure: the things of God which God refuses. +What shall we do? Might we but win them through +the grace of the <i>Prince of this World</i>!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When the great and mighty doctor of the Renaissance, +Paracelsus, cast all the wise books of ancient +medicine into the fire, Latin, and Jewish, and Arabic, +all at once, he declared that he had learned none but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +the popular medicine, that of the <i>good women</i>,<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> the +<i>shepherds</i>, and the <i>headsmen</i>, the latter of whom made +often good horse-doctors and clever surgeons, resetting +bones broken or put out of joint.</p> + +<p>I make no doubt but that his admirable and +masterly work on <i>The Diseases of Women</i>—the first +then written on a theme so large, so deep, so tender—came +forth from his special experience of those women +to whom others went for aid; of the witches, namely, +who always acted as the midwives: for never in those +days was a male physician admitted to the woman’s +side, to win her trust in him, to listen to her secrets. +The witches alone attended her, and became, especially +for women, the chief and only physician.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>What we know for surest with regard to their medicinal +practice is, that for ends the most different, alike +to stimulate and to soothe, they made use of one large +family of doubtful and very dangerous plants, called, +by reason of the services they rendered, <i>The Comforters</i>, +or Solaneæ.<a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p><p>A vast and popular family, many kinds of which +abound to excess under our feet, in the hedges, everywhere—a +family so numerous that of one kind alone +we have eight hundred varieties.<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> There is nothing +easier, nothing more common, to find. But these +plants are mostly dangerous in the using. It needs +some boldness to measure out a dose, the boldness, +perhaps, of genius.</p> + +<p>Let us, step by step, mount the ladder of their +powers.<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> The first are simply pot-herbs, good for +food, such as the mad-apples and the tomatoes, miscalled +“love-apples.” Other, of the harmless kinds, +are sweetness and tranquillity itself, as the white mullens, +or lady’s fox-gloves, so good for fomentations.</p> + +<p>Going higher up, you come on a plant already suspicious, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>which many think a poison, a plant which at +first seems like honey and afterwards tastes bitter, reminding +one of Jonathan’s saying, “I have eaten a +little honey, and therefore shall I die.” But this death +is serviceable, a dying away of pain. The “bittersweet” +should have been the first experiment of that +bold homœopathy which rose, little by little, up to the +most dangerous poisons. The slight irritation and the +tingling which it causes might point it out as a remedy +for the prevalent diseases of that time, those, namely, +of the skin.</p> + +<p>The pretty maiden who found herself woefully +adorned with uncouth red patches, with pimples, or +with ringworm, would come crying for such relief. In +the case of an elder woman the hurt would be yet +more painful. The bosom, most delicate thing in nature, +with its innermost vessels forming a matchless +flower, becomes, through its injective and congestive +tendencies, the most perfect instrument for causing +pain. Sharp, ruthless, restless are the pains she suffers. +Gladly would she accept all kinds of poison. +Instead of bargaining with the Witch, she only puts +her poor hard breast between her hands.</p> + +<p>From the bittersweet, too weak for such, we rise to +the dark nightshades, which have rather more effect. +For a few days the woman is soothed. Anon she +comes back weeping. “Very well, to-night you may +come again. I will fetch you something, as you wish +me; but it will be a strong poison.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>It was a heavy risk for the Witch. At that time +they never thought that poisons could act as remedies, +if applied outwardly or taken in very weak doses. The +plants they compounded together under the name of +<i>witches’ herbs</i>, seemed to be but ministers of death. +Such as were found in her hands would have proved +her, in their opinion, a poisoner or a dealer in accursed +charms. A blind crowd, all the more cruel for its +growing fears, might fell her with a shower of stones, +or make her undergo the trial by water—the <i>noyade</i>. +Or even—most dreadful doom of all!—they might +drag her with a rope round her neck to the churchyard, +where a pious festival was held and the people +edified by seeing her thrown to the flames.</p> + +<p>However, she runs the risk, and fetches home the +dreadful plant. The other woman comes back to her +abode by night or morning, whenever she is least afraid +of being met. But a young shepherd, who saw her +there, told the village, “If you had seen her as I did, +gliding among the rubbish of the ruined hut, looking +about her on all sides, muttering I know not what! +Oh, but she has frightened me very much! If she +had seen me, I was a lost man. She would have +changed me into a lizard, a toad, or a bat. She took +a paltry herb—the paltriest I ever saw—of a pale +sickly yellow, with red and black marks, like the +flames, as they say, of hell. The horror of the thing +is, that the whole stalk was hairy like a man, with +long, black, sticky hairs. She plucked it roughly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +with a grunt, and suddenly I saw her no more. She +could not have run away so quick; she must have +flown. What a dreadful thing that woman is! How +dangerous to the whole country!”</p> + +<p>Certainly the plant inspires dread. It is the henbane, +a cruel and dangerous poison, but a powerful +emollient, a soft sedative poultice, which melts, unbends, +lulls to sleep the pain, often taking it quite +away.</p> + +<p>Another of these poisons—the Belladonna, so called, +undoubtedly, in thankful acknowledgment, had great +power in laying the convulsions that sometimes supervened +in childbirth, and added a new danger, a new +fear, to the danger and the fear of that most trying +moment. A motherly hand instilled the gentle poison, +casting the mother herself into a sleep, and smoothing +the infant’s passage, after the manner of the modern +chloroform, into the world.<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> + +<p>Belladonna cures the dancing-fits while making you +dance. A daring homœopathy this, which at first +must frighten: it is <i>medicine reversed</i>, contrary in most +things to that which alone the Christians studied, +which alone they valued, after the example of the Jews +and Arabs.</p> + +<p>How did men come to this result? Undoubtedly +by the simple effect of the great Satanic principle, that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span><i>everything must be done the wrong way</i>, the very opposite +way to that followed by the holy people. These +latter have a dread of poisons. Satan uses them and +turns them into remedies. The Church thinks by +spiritual means, by sacraments and prayers, to act +even on the body. Satan, on the other hand, uses +material means to act even upon the soul, making you +drink of forgetfulness, love, reverie, and every passion. +To the blessing of the priest he opposes the magnetic +passes made by the soft hands of women, who cheat +you of your pains.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>By a change of system, and yet more of dress, as +in the substitution of linen for wool, the skin-diseases +lost their intensity. Leprosy abated, but seemed to +go inwards and beget deeper ills. The fourteenth century +wavered between three scourges—the epileptic +dancings, the plague, and the sores which, according +to Paracelsus, led the way to syphilis.</p> + +<p>The first danger was not the least. About 1350 it +broke out in a frightful manner with the dance of St. +Guy, and was singular especially in this, that it did not +act upon each person separately. As if carried on by +one same galvanic current, the sick caught each other +by the hand, formed immense chains, and spun and +spun round till they died. The spectators, who laughed +at first, presently catching the contagion, let themselves +go, fell into the mighty current, increased the +terrible choir.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>What would have happened if the evil had held on +as long as leprosy did even in its decline?</p> + +<p>It was the first step, as it were, towards epilepsy. +If that generation of sufferers had not been cured, +it would have begotten another decidedly epileptic. +What a frightful prospect! Think of Europe covered +with fools, with idiots, with raging madmen! We are +not told how the evil was treated and checked. The +remedy prescribed by most, the falling upon these +jumpers with kicks and cuffings, was entirely fitted +to increase the frenzy and turn it into downright +epilepsy.<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> Doubtless there was some other remedy, +of which people were loth to speak. At the time when +witchcraft took its first great flight, the widespread +use of the <i>Solaneæ</i>, above all, of belladonna, vulgarized +the medicine which really checked those affections. At +the great popular gatherings of the Sabbath, of which +we shall presently speak, the <i>witches’ herb</i>, mixed with +mead, beer, cider,<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> or perry (the strong drinks of the +West), set the multitude dancing a dance luxurious +indeed, but far from epileptic.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But the greatest revolution caused by the witches, +the greatest step <i>the wrong way</i> against the spirit of +the Middle Ages, was what may be called the reënfeoffment +of the stomach and the digestive organs. They +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>had the boldness to say, “There is nothing foul or +unclean.” Thenceforth the study of matter was free +and boundless. Medicine became a possibility.</p> + +<p>That this principle was greatly abused, we do not +deny; but the principle is none the less clear. There +is nothing foul but moral evil. In the natural world +all things are pure: nothing may be withheld from our +studious regard, nothing be forbidden by an idle spiritualism, +still less by a silly disgust.</p> + +<p>It was here especially that the Middle Ages showed +themselves in their true light, as <i>anti-natural</i>, out of +Nature’s oneness drawing distinctions of castes, of +priestly orders. Not only do they count the spirit +<i>noble</i>, and the body <i>ignoble</i>; but even parts of the body +are called noble, while others are not, being evidently +plebeian. In like manner heaven is noble, and hell +is not; but why?—“Because heaven is high up.” But +in truth it is neither high nor low, being above and +beneath alike. And what is hell? Nothing at all. +Equally foolish are they about the world at large and +the smaller world of men.</p> + +<p>This world is all one piece: each thing in it is attached +to all the rest. If the stomach is servant of +the brain and feeds it, the brain also works none the +less for the stomach, perpetually helping to prepare +for it the digestive <i>sugar</i>.<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There was no lack of injurious treatment. The +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>witches were called filthy, indecent, shameless, immoral. +Nevertheless, their first steps on that road +may be accounted as a happy revolution in things most +moral, in charity and kindness. With a monstrous +perversion of ideas the Middle Ages viewed the flesh +in its representative, woman,—accursed since the days +of Eve—as a thing impure. The Virgin, exalted as +<i>Virgin</i> more than as <i>Our Lady</i>, far from lifting up the +real woman, had caused her abasement, by setting men +on the track of a mere scholastic puritanism, where +they kept rising higher and higher in subtlety and +falsehood.</p> + +<p>Woman herself ended by sharing in the hateful +prejudice and deeming herself unclean. She hid herself +at the hour of childbed. She blushed at loving +and bestowing happiness on others. Sober as she +mostly was in comparison with man, living as she +mostly did on herbs and fruits, sharing through her +diet of milk and vegetables the purity of the most innocent +breeds, she almost besought forgiveness for +being born, for living, for carrying out the conditions +of her life.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The medical art of the Middle Ages busied itself +peculiarly about the man, a being noble and pure, who +alone could become a priest, alone could make God at +the altar. It also paid some attention to the beasts, +beginning indeed with them; but of children it thought +seldom: of women not at all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>The romances, too, with their subtleties pourtray the +converse of the world. Outside the courts and highborn +adulterers, which form the chief topic of these +romances, the woman is always a poor Griselda, born +to drain the cup of suffering, to be often beaten, and +never cared for.</p> + +<p>In order to mind the woman, to trample these usages +under foot, and to care for her in spite of herself, nothing +less would serve than the Devil, woman’s old ally, her +trusty friend in Paradise, and the Witch, that monster +who deals with everything the wrong way, exactly contrariwise +to that of the holier people. The poor creature +set such little store by herself. She would shrink +back, blushing, and loth to say a word. The Witch +being clever and evil-hearted, read her to the inmost +depths. Ere long she won her to speak out, drew from +her her little secret, overcame her refusals, her modest, +humble hesitations. Rather than undergo the remedy, +she was willing almost to die. But the cruel sorceress +made her live.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> Leprosy has been traced to Asia and the Crusades; but +Europe had it in herself. The war declared by the Middle +Ages against the flesh and all cleanliness bore its fruits. More +than one saint boasted of having never washed even his hands. +And how much did the rest wash? To have stripped for a +moment would have been sinful. The worldlings carefully +follow the teaching of the monks. This subtle and refined +society, which sacrificed marriage and seemed inspired only +with the poetry of adultery, preserved a strange scruple on a +point so harmless. It dreaded all cleansing, as so much defilement. +There was no bathing for a thousand years!</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> The name given in fear and politeness to the witches.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> Man’s ingratitude is painful to see. A thousand other +plants have come into use: a hundred exotic vegetables have +become the fashion. But the good once done by these poor +<i>Comforters</i> is clean forgotten!—Nay, who now remembers or +even acknowledges the old debt of humanity to harmless +nature? The <i>Asclepias acida</i>, <i>Sarcostemma</i>, or flesh-plant, +which for five thousand years was the <i>Holy Wafer</i> of the East, +its very palpable God, eaten gladly by five hundred millions of +men,—this plant, in the Middle Ages called the Poison-queller +(<i>vince-venenum</i>), meets with not one word of historical comment +in our books of Botany. Perhaps two thousand years +hence they will forget the wheat. See Langlois on the <i>Soma</i> +of India and the <i>Hom</i> of Persia. <i>Mem. de l’Académie des +Inscriptions</i>, xix. 326.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> M. d’Orbigny’s <i>Dictionary of Natural History</i>, article +<i>Morelles</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> I have found this ladder nowhere else. It is the more +important, because the witches who made these essays at the +risk of passing for poisoners, certainly began with the weakest, +and rose gradually to the strongest. Each step of power thus +gives its relative date, and helps us in this dark subject to set +up a kind of chronology. I shall complete it in the following +chapters, when I come to speak of the Mandragora and the +Datura. I have chiefly followed Pouchet’s <i>Solanées</i> and <i>Botanique +Générale</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> Madame La Chapelle and M. Chaussier have renewed to +good purpose these practices of the older medicine. Pouchet, +<i>Solanées</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> We should think that few physicians would quite agree +with M. Michelet.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> Cider was first made in the twelfth century.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> This great discovery was made by Claude Bernard.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>CHARMS AND PHILTRES.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Let</span> no one hastily conclude from the foregoing +chapter that I attempt to whiten, to acquit entirely, +the dismal bride of the Devil. If she often did good, +she could also do no small amount of ill. There is no +great power which is not abused. And this one had +three centuries of actual reigning, in the interlude between +two worlds, the older dying and the new struggling +painfully to begin. The Church, which in the +quarrels of the sixteenth century will regain some of +her strength, at least for fighting, in the fourteenth is +down in the mire. Look at the truthful picture drawn +by Clémangis. The nobles, so proudly arrayed in their +new armour, fall all the more heavily at Crécy, Poitiers, +Agincourt. All who survive end by being prisoners in +England. What a theme for ridicule! The citizens, the +very peasants make merry and shrug their shoulders. +This general absence of the lords gave, I fancy, no +small encouragement to the Sabbath gatherings which +had always taken place, but at this time might first +have grown into vast popular festivals.</p> + +<p>How mighty the power thus wielded by Satan’s +sweetheart, who cures, foretels, divines, calls up the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +souls of the dead; who can throw a spell upon you, +turn you into a hare or wolf, enable you to find a treasure, +and, best of all, ensure your being beloved! It +is an awful power which combines all others. How +could a stormy soul, a soul most commonly gangrened, +and sometimes grown utterly wayward, have helped +employing it to wreak her hate and revenge; sometimes +even out of a mere delight in malice and uncleanness?</p> + +<p>All that once was told the confessor, is now imparted +to her: not only the sins already done, but those also +which folk purpose doing. She holds each by her +shameful secret, by the avowal of her uncleanest desires. +To her they entrust both their bodily and mental ills; +the lustful heats of a blood inflamed and soured; the +ceaseless prickings of some sharp, urgent, furious +desire.</p> + +<p>To her they all come: with her there is no shame. +In plain blunt words they beseech her for life, for +death, for remedies, for poisons. Thither comes a +young woman, to ask through her tears for the means +of saving her from the fruits of her sin. Thither comes +the step-mother—a common theme in the Middle Ages—to +say that the child of a former marriage eats well +and lives long. Thither comes the sorrowing wife +whose children year by year are born only to die. And +now, on the other hand, comes a youth to buy at any +cost the burning draught that shall trouble the heart +of some haughty dame, until, forgetful of the distance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +between them, she has stooped to look upon her little +page.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In these days there are but two types, two forms of +marriage, both of them extreme and outrageous.</p> + +<p>The scornful heiress of a fief, who brings her husband +a crown or a broad estate, an Eleanor of Guyenne +for instance, will, under her husband’s very eyes, hold +her court of lovers, keeping herself under very slight +control. Let us leave romances and poems, to look at +the reality in its dread march onward to the unbridled +rage of the daughters of Philip the Fair, of the cruel +Isabella, who by the hands of her lovers impaled +Edward II. The insolence of the feudal women breaks +out diabolically in the triumphant two-horned bonnet +and other brazen-faced fashions.</p> + +<p>But in this century, when classes are beginning to +mingle slightly, the woman of a lower rank, when she +marries a lord, has to fear the hardest trials. So says +the truthful history of the humble, the meek, the +patient Griselda. In a more popular form it becomes +the tale of <i>Blue-Beard</i>, a tale which seems to me quite +earnest and historical. The wife so often killed and +replaced by him could only have been his vassal. He +would have reckoned wholly otherwise with the daughter +or sister of a baron, who might avenge her. If I +am not misled by a specious conjecture, we must believe +that this tale is of the fourteenth century, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +not of those preceding, in which the lord would never +have deigned to take a wife below himself.</p> + +<p>Specially remarkable in the moving tale of <i>Griselda</i> +is the fact, that throughout her heavy trials, she never +seeks support in being devout or in loving another. +She is evidently faithful, chaste, and pure. It never +comes into her mind to love elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Of the two feudal women, the Heiress and Griselda, +it is peculiarly the first who has her household of gentlemen, +her courts of love, who shows favour to the +humblest lovers, encouraging them, delivering, as +Eleanor did, the famous sentence, soon to become quite +classical: “There can be no love between married +folk.”</p> + +<p>Thereupon a secret hope, but hot and violent withal, +arises in more than one young heart. If he must give +himself to the Devil, he will rush full tilt on this +adventurous intrigue. Let the castle be never so surely +closed, one fine opening is still left for Satan. In a +game so perilous, what chance of success reveals itself? +Wisdom answers, None. But what if Satan said, Yes?</p> + +<p>We must remember how great a distance feudal pride +set between the nobles themselves. Words are misleading: +one <i>cavalier</i> might be far below another.</p> + +<p>The knight banneret, who brought a whole army of +vassals to his king’s side, would look with utter scorn +from one end of his long table on the poor <i>lackland</i> +knights seated at the other. How much greater his scorn +for the simple varlets, grooms, pages, &c., fed upon his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +leavings! Seated at the lowermost end of the tables +close to the door, they scraped the dishes sent down to +them, often empty, from the personages seated above +beside the hearth. It never would cross the great +lord’s mind, that those below would dare to lift eyes of +fancy towards their lovely mistress, the haughty heiress +of a fief, sitting near her mother, “crowned by a +chaplet of white roses.” Whilst he bore with wondrous +patience the love of some stranger knight, +appointed by his lady to bear her colours, he would +have savagely punished the boldness of any servant +who looked so high. Of this kind was the raging +jealousy shown by the Lord of Fayel, who was stirred +to deadly wrath, not because his wife had a lover, but +because that lover was one of his household, the castellan +or simple constable of his castle of Coucy.</p> + +<p>The deeper and less passable seemed the gulf between +the great heiress, lady of the manor, and the +groom or page who, barring his shirt, had nothing, not +even his coat, but what belonged to his master, the +stronger became love’s temptation to overleap that +gulf.</p> + +<p>The youth was buoyed up by the very impossibility. +At length, one day that he managed to get out of the +tower, he ran off to the Witch and asked her advice. +Would a philtre serve as a spell to win her? Or, failing +that, must he make an express covenant? He never +shrank at all from the dreadful idea of yielding himself +to Satan. “We will take care for that, young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +man: but hie thee up again; you will find some +change already.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The change, however, is in himself. He is stirred by +some ineffable hope, that escapes in spite of him from +a deep downcast eye, scored by an ever-darting flame. +Somebody, we may guess who, having eyes for him +alone, is moved to throw him, as she passes, a word of +pity. Oh, rapture! Kind Satan! Charming, adorable +Witch!</p> + +<p>He cannot eat nor drink until he has been to see the +latter again. Respectfully kissing her hand, he almost +falls at her feet. Whatever she may ask him, whatever +she may bid him do, he will obey her. That moment, +if she wishes it, he will give her his golden chain, will +give her the ring upon his finger, though he had it +from a dying mother. But the Witch, in her native +malice, in her hatred of the Baron, feels an especial +comfort in dealing him a secret blow.</p> + +<p>Already a vague anxiety disturbs the castle. A +dumb tempest, without lightning or thunder, broods +over it, like an electric vapour on a marsh. All is +silence, deep silence; but the lady is troubled. She +suspects that some supernatural power has been at +work. For why indeed be thus drawn to this youth, +more than to some one else, handsomer, nobler, renowned +already for deeds of arms? There is something +toward, down yonder! Has that woman cast a +spell upon her, or worked some hidden charm? The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +more she asks herself these questions, the more her +heart is troubled.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Witch has something to wreak her malice upon +at last. In the village she was a queen; but now the +castle comes to her, yields itself up to her on that side +where its pride ran the greatest risk. For us this +passion has a peculiar interest, as the rush of one soul +towards its ideal against every social harrier, against the +unjust decree of fate. To the Witch, on her side, it +holds out the deep, keen delight of humbling the lady’s +pride, and revenging perhaps her own wrongs; the +delight of serving the lord as he served his vassals, of +levying upon him, through the boldness of a mere +child, the firstfruits of his outrageous wedding-rights. +Undoubtedly, in these intrigues where the Witch had to +play her part, she often acted from a depth of levelling +hatred natural to a peasant.</p> + +<p>Already it was something gained to have made the +lady stoop to love a menial. We should not be misled +by such examples as John of Saintré and Cherubin. +The serving-boy filled the lowest offices in the household. +The footman proper did not then exist, while on +the other hand, few, if any maidservants lived in +military strongholds. Young hands did everything, +and were not disgraced thereby. The service, specially +the body-service of the lord and lady, honoured and +raised them up. Nevertheless, it often placed the +highborn page in situations sorrowful enough, prosaic,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +not to say ridiculous. The lord never distresses himself +about that. And the lady must indeed be charmed +by the Devil, not to see what every day she saw, her +well-beloved employed in servile and unsuitable tasks.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In the Middle Ages the very high and the very low +are continually brought together. That which is hidden +by the poems, we can catch a glimpse of otherwhere. +With those ethereal passions, many gross things were +clearly blended.</p> + +<p>All we know of the charms and philtres used by the +witches is very fantastic, not seldom marked by malice, +and recklessly mixed up with things that seem to us +the least likely to have awakened love. By these +methods they went a long way without the husband’s +perceiving in his blindness the game they made of +him.</p> + +<p>These philtres were of various kinds. Some were +for exciting and troubling the senses, like the stimulants +so much abused in the East. Others were dangerous, +and often treacherous draughts to whose illusions +the body would yield itself without the will. Others +again were employed as tests when the passion was +defied, when one wished to see how far the greediness +of desire might derange the senses, making them +receive as the highest and holiest of favours, the most +disagreeable services done by the object of their love.</p> + +<p>The rude way in which a castle was constructed, +with nothing in it but large halls, led to an utter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +sacrifice of the inner life. It was long enough before +they took to building in one of the turrets a closet or +recess for meditation and the saying of prayers. The +lady was easily watched. On certain days set or +waited for, the bold youth would attempt the stroke, +recommended him by the Witch, of mingling a philtre +with her drink.</p> + +<p>This, however, was a dangerous matter, not often tried. +Less difficult was it to purloin from the lady things +which escaped her notice, which she herself despised. +He would treasure up the very smallest paring of a +nail; he would gather up respectfully one or two +beautiful hairs that might fall from her comb. These +he would carry to the Witch, who often asked, as our +modern sleep-wakers do, for something very personal +and strongly redolent of the person, but obtained +without her leave; as, for instance, some threads torn +out of a garment long worn and soiled with the traces +of perspiration. With much kissing, of course, and +worshipping, the lover was fain reluctantly to throw +these treasures into the fire, with a view to gathering +up the ashes afterwards. By and by, when she came +to look at her garment, the fine lady would remark the +rent, but guessing at the cause, would only sigh and +hold her tongue. The charm had already begun to +work.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Even if she hesitated from regard for her marriage-vow, +certain it is that life in a space so narrow, where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +they were always in each other’s sight, so near and yet +so far, became a downright torment. And even when +she had once shown her weakness, still before her husband +and others equally jealous the moments of happiness +would assuredly be rare. Hence sprang many a +foolish outbreak of unsatisfied desire. The less they +came together, the more deeply they longed to do so. +A disordered fancy sought to attain that end by means +grotesque, unnatural, utterly senseless. So by way of +establishing a means of secret correspondence between +the two, the Witch had the letters of the alphabet +pricked on both their arms. If one of them wanted to +send a thought to the other, he brightened and brought +out by sucking the blood-red letters of the wished-for +word. Immediately, so it is said, the corresponding +letters bled on the other’s arm.</p> + +<p>Sometimes in these mad fits they would drink each +of the other’s blood, so as to mingle their souls, it was +said, in close communion. The devouring of Coucy’s +heart, which the lady “found so good that she never +ate again,” is the most tragical instance of these +monstrous vows of loving cannibalism. But when the +absent one did not die, but only the love within him, +then the lady would seek counsel of the Witch, begging +of her the means of holding him, of bringing him +back.</p> + +<p>The incantations used by the sorceress of Theocritus +and Virgil, though employed also in the Middle Ages, +were seldom of much avail. An attempt was made to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +win back the lover by a spell seemingly copied from +antiquity, by means of a cake, of a <i>confarreatio</i><a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> like +that which, both in Asia and Europe, had always been +the holiest pledge of love. But in this case it is not +the soul only, it is the flesh also they seek to bind; +there must be so true an identity established between +the two, that, dead to all other women, he shall live +only for her. It was a cruel ceremony on the woman’s +side. “No haggling, madam,” says the Witch. +Suddenly the proud dame grows obedient, even to +letting herself be stripped bare: for thus indeed it +must be.</p> + +<p>What a triumph for the Witch! And if this lady +were the same as she who had once made her “run the +gauntlet,” how meet the vengeance, how dread the requital +now! But it is not enough to have stripped her +thus naked. About her loins is fastened a little shelf, +on which a small oven is set for the cooking of the cake. +“Oh, my dear, I cannot bear it longer! Make haste, +and relieve me.”</p> + +<p>“You must bear it, madam; you must feel the heat. +When the cake is done, he will be warmed by you, +by your flame.”</p> + +<p>It is over; and now we have the cake of antiquity, of +the Indian and the Roman marriage, but spiced and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>warmed up by the lecherous spirit of the Devil. She +does not say with Virgil’s wizard,<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnin!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But she takes him the cake, steeped, as it were, in the +other’s suffering, and kept warm by her love. He has +hardly bitten it when he is overtaken by an odd +emotion, by a feeling of dizziness. Then as the blood +rushes up to his heart he turns red and hot. Passion +fastens anew on him, and inextinguishable desire.<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> One form of wedding among the Romans, in which the +bride-cake was broken between the pair, in token of their +union.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> “Hither, ye spells of mine, bring Daphnis home from the +city!”—<i>Virgil</i>, Eclogue viii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> I am wrong in saying inextinguishable. Fresh philtres +were often needed; and the blame of this must lie with the +lady, from whom the Witch in her mocking, malignant rage +exacted the most humiliating observances.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE REBELS’ COMMUNION—SABBATHS—THE BLACK +MASS.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">We</span> must now speak of the <i>Sabbaths</i>; a word which at +different times clearly meant quite different things. +Unhappily, we have no detailed accounts of these +gatherings earlier than the reign of Henry IV.<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> By +that time they were nothing more than a great lewd +farce carried on under the cloak of witchcraft. But +these very descriptions of a thing so greatly corrupted +are marked by certain antique touches that tell of the +successive periods and the different forms through +which it had passed.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>We may set out with this firm idea that, for many +centuries, the serf led the life of a wolf or a fox; that +he was <i>an animal of the night</i>, moving about, I may +say, as little as possible in the daytime, and truly +living in the night alone.</p> + +<p>Still, up to the year 1000, so long as the people +made their own saints and legends, their daily life was +not to them uninteresting. Their nightly Sabbaths were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>only a slight relic of paganism. They held in fear and +honour the Moon, so powerful over the good things of +earth. Her chief worshippers, the old women, burn +small candles to <i>Dianom</i>—the Diana of yore, whose +other names were Luna and Hecate. The Lupercal +(or wolf-man) is always following the women and +children, disguised indeed under the dark face of +ghost Hallequin (Harlequin). The Vigil of Venus was +kept as a holiday precisely on the first of May. On +Midsummer Day they kept the Sabaza by sacrificing +the he-goat of Bacchus Sabasius. In all this there was +no mockery; nothing but a harmless carnival of serfs.</p> + +<p>But about the year 1000 the church is well-nigh +shut against the peasant through the difference between +his language and hers. By 1100 her services became +quite unintelligible. Of the mysteries played at the +church-doors, he has retained chiefly the comic side, the +ox and the ass, &c. On these he makes Christmas +carols, which grow ever more and more burlesque, +forming a true Sabbatic literature.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Are we to suppose that the great and fearful risings +of the twelfth century had no influence on these +mysteries, on this night-life of the <i>wolf</i>, the <i>game bird</i>, +the <i>wild quarry</i>. The great sacraments of rebellion +among the serfs, when they drank of each other’s +blood, or ate of the ground by way of solemn pledge,<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> +may have been celebrated at the Sabbaths. The “Marseillaise” +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>of that time, sung by night rather than day, +was perhaps a Sabbatic chant:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Nous sommes hommes commes ils sont!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tout aussi grand cœur nous avons!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tout autant souffrir nous pouvons!”<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But the tombstone falls again in 1200. Seated +thereon the Pope and the King, with their enormous +weight, have sealed up man. Has he now his old life +by night? More than ever. The old pagan dances +must by this time have waxed furious. Our negroes +of the Antilles, after a dreadful day of heat and hard +work, would go and dance away some four leagues off. +So it was with the serf too. But with his dances there +must have mingled a merriment born of revenge, +satiric farces, burlesques and caricatures of the baron +and the priest: a whole literature of the night indeed, +that knew not one word of the literature of the day, +that knew little even of the burgher Fabliaux.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Of such a nature were the Sabbaths before 1300. +Before they could take the startling form of open +warfare against the God of those days, much more was +needed still, and especially these two things: not only +a descending into the very depths of despair, but also +<i>an utter losing of respect for anything</i>.</p> + +<p>To this pass they do not come until the fourteenth +century, under the Avignon popes, and during the +Great Schism; when the Church with two heads +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>seems no longer a church; when the king and all his +nobles, being in shameful captivity to the English, are +extorting the means of ransom from their oppressed +and outraged people. Then do the Sabbaths take the +grand and horrible form of the <i>Black Mass</i>, of a +ritual upside down, in which Jesus is defied and +bidden to thunder on the people if He can. In +the thirteenth century this devilish drama was still +impossible, through the horror it would have caused. +And later again, in the fifteenth, when everything, +even suffering itself, had become exhausted, so fierce +an outburst could not have issued forth; so monstrous +an invention no one would have essayed. It could only +have belonged to the age of Dante.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It took place, I fancy, at one gush; an explosion as +it were of genius raving, bringing impiety up to the +height of a great popular passion-fit. To understand +the nature of these bursts of rage, we must remember +that, far from imagining the fixedness of God’s laws, +a people brought up by their own clergy to believe +and depend on miracles, had for ages past been hoping +and waiting for nothing else than a miracle which +never came. In vain they demanded one in the +desperate hour of their last worst strait. Heaven +thenceforth appeared to them as the ally of their +savage tormentors, nay, as itself a tormentor too.</p> + +<p>Thereon began the <i>Black Mass</i> and the <i>Jacquerie</i>.<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> +<p>In the elastic shell of the Black Mass, a thousand +variations of detail may afterwards have been inserted; +but the shell itself was strongly made and, in my +opinion, all of one piece.</p> + +<p>This drama I succeeded in reproducing in my +“History of France,” in the year 1857. There +was small difficulty in casting it anew in its four +acts. Only at that time I left in it too many of the +grotesque adornments which clothed the Sabbath of a +later period; nor did I clearly enough define what +belonged to the older shell, so dark and dreadful.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Its date is strongly marked by certain savage tokens +of an age accursed, and yet more by the ruling place +therein assigned to woman, a fact most characteristic +of the fourteenth century.</p> + +<p>It is strange to mark how, at that period, the +woman who enjoys so little freedom still holds her +royal sway in a hundred violent fashions. At this +time she inherits fiefs, brings her kingdoms to the +king. On the lower levels she has still her throne, +and yet more in the skies. Mary has supplanted +Jesus. St. Francis and St. Dominic have seen the +three worlds in her bosom. By the immensity of her +grace she washes away sin; ay, and sometimes helps +the sinner,—as in the story of a nun whose place the +Virgin took in the choir, while she herself was gone +to meet her lover.</p> + +<p>Up high, and down very low, we see the woman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +Beatrice reigns in heaven among the stars, while John +of Meung in the <i>Romaunt of the Rose</i> is preaching the +community of women. Pure or sullied, the woman is +everywhere. We might say of her what Raymond +Lulle said of God: “What part has He in the world? +The whole.”</p> + +<p>But alike in heaven and in poetry the true heroine +is not the fruitful mother decked out with children; +but the Virgin, or some barren Beatrice, who dies +young.</p> + +<p>A fair English damsel passed over into France, it is +said, about the year 1300, to preach the redemption of +women. She looked on herself as their Messiah.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In its earliest phase the Black Mass seemed to +betoken this redemption of Eve, so long accursed of +Christianity. The woman fills every office in the +Sabbath. She is priestess, altar, pledge of holy communion, +by turns. Nay, at bottom, is she not herself +as God?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Many popular traits may be found herein, and yet +it comes not wholly from the people. The peasant +who honoured strength alone, made small account of +the woman; as we see but too clearly in our old laws +and customs. From him the woman would not have +received the high place she holds here. It is by her +own self the place is won.</p> + +<p>I would gladly believe that the Sabbath in its then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +shape was woman’s work, the work of such a desperate +woman as the Witch was then. In the fourteenth +century she saw open before her a horrible career of +torments lighted up for three or four hundred years +by the stake. After 1300 her medical knowledge is +condemned as baleful, her remedies are proscribed as +if they were poisons. The harmless drawing of lots, +by which lepers then thought to better their luck, +brought on a massacre of those poor wretches. Pope +John XXII. ordered the burning of a bishop suspected +of Witchcraft. Under a system of such blind repression +there was just the same risk in daring little as in +daring much. Danger itself made people bolder; and +the Witch was able to dare anything.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Human brotherhood, defiance of the Christian +heaven, a distorted worship of nature herself as God—such +was the purport of the Black Mass.</p> + +<p>They decked an altar to the arch-rebel of serfs, <i>to +Him who had been so wronged</i>, the old outlaw, unfairly +hunted out of heaven, “the Spirit by whom earth was +made, the Master who ordained the budding of the +plants.” Such were the names of honour given him +by his worshippers, the <i>Luciferians</i>, and also, according +to a very likely opinion, by the Knights of the Temple.</p> + +<p>The greatest miracle of those unhappy times is, the +greater abundance found at the nightly communion of +the brotherhood, than was to be found elsewhere by +day. By incurring some little danger the Witch levied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +her contributions from those who were best off, and +gathered their offerings into a common fund. Charity +in a Satanic garb grew very powerful, as being a crime, +a conspiracy, a form of rebellion. People would rob +themselves of their food by day for the sake of the +common meal at night.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Figure to yourself, on a broad moor, and often near +an old Celtic cromlech, at the edge of a wood, this +twofold scene: on one side a well-lit moor and a great +feast of the people; on the other, towards yon wood, +the choir of that church whose dome is heaven. What +I call the choir is a hill commanding somewhat the +surrounding country. Between these are the yellow +flames of torch-fires, and some red brasiers emitting a +fantastic smoke. At the back of all is the Witch, +dressing up her Satan, a great wooden devil, black and +shaggy. By his horns, and the goatskin near him, he +might be Bacchus; but his manly attributes make him +a Pan or a Priapus. It is a darksome figure, seen +differently by different eyes; to some suggesting only +terror, while others are touched by the proud melancholy +wherein the Eternally Banished seems absorbed.<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Act First. The magnificent <i>In troit</i> taken by Christendom +from antiquity, that is, from those ceremonies +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>where the people in long train streamed under the +colonnades on their way to the sanctuary, is now taken +back for himself by the elder god upon his return to +power. The <i>Lavabo</i>, likewise borrowed from the +heathen lustrations, reappears now. All this he claims +back by right of age.</p> + +<p>His priestess is always called, by way of honour, the +Elder; but she would sometimes have been young. +Lancre tells of a witch of seventeen, pretty, and +horribly savage.</p> + +<p>The Devil’s bride was not to be a child: she must +be at least thirty years old, with the form of a Medea, +with the beauty that comes of pain; an eye deep, +tragic, lit up by a feverish fire, with great serpent +tresses waving at their will: I refer to the torrent of +her black untamable hair. On her head, perhaps, you +may see the crown of vervein, the ivy of the tomb, the +violets of death.</p> + +<p>When she has had the children taken off to their +meal, the service begins: “I will come before thine +altar; but save me, O Lord, from the faithless and +violent man (from the priest and the baron).”</p> + +<p>Then come the denial of Jesus, the paying of homage +to the new master, the feudal kiss, like the greetings +of the Temple, when all was yielded without reserve, +without shame, or dignity, or even purpose; the denial +of an olden god being grossly aggravated by a seeming +preference for Satan’s back.</p> + +<p>It is now his turn to consecrate his priestess. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +wooden deity receives her in the manner of an olden +Pan or Priapus. Following the old pagan form she +sits a moment upon him in token of surrender, like +the Delphian seeress on Apollo’s tripod. After receiving +the breath of his spirit, the sacrament of his +love, she purifies herself with like formal solemnity. +Thenceforth she is a living altar.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Introit over, the service is interrupted for the +feast. Contrary to the festive fashion of the nobles, +who all sit with their swords beside them, here, in this +feast of brethren, are no arms, not even a knife.</p> + +<p>As a keeper of the peace, each has a woman with +him. Without a woman no one is admitted. Be she +a kinswoman or none, a wife or none; be she old or +young, a woman he must bring with him.</p> + +<p>What were the drinks passed round among them? +Mead, or beer, or wine; strong cider or perry? The +last two date from the twelfth century.</p> + +<p>The illusive drinks, with their dangerous admixture +of belladonna, did they already appear at that board? +Certainly not. There were children there. Besides, +an excess of commotion would have prevented the +dancing.</p> + +<p>This whirling dance, the famous <i>Sabbath-round</i>, was +quite enough to complete the first stage of drunkenness. +They turned back to back, their arms behind them, +not seeing each other, but often touching each other’s +back. Gradually no one knew himself, nor whom he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +had by his side. The old wife then was old no more. +Satan had wrought a miracle. She was still a woman, +desirable, after a confused fashion beloved.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Act Second. Just as the crowd, grown dizzy together, +was led, both by the attraction of the women +and by a certain vague feeling of brotherhood, to +imagine itself one body, the service was resumed at the +<i>Gloria</i>. The altar, the host, became visible. These +were represented by the woman herself. Prostrate, in +a posture of extreme abasement, her long black silky +tresses lost in the dust; she, this haughty Proserpine, +offered up herself. On her back a demon officiated, +saying the <i>Credo</i>, and making the offering.<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></p> + +<p>At a later period this scene came to be immodest. +But at this time, amidst the calamities of the fourteenth +century, in the terrible days of the Black Plague, and +of so many a famine, in the days of the Jacquerie and +those hateful brigands, the Free Lances,—on a people +thus surrounded by danger, the effect was more than +serious. The whole assembly had much cause to fear +a surprise. The risk run by the Witch in this bold proceeding +was very great, even tantamount to the forfeiting +of her life. Nay, more; she braved a hell of suffering, +of torments such as may hardly be described. Torn +by pincers, and broken alive; her breasts torn out; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>her skin slowly singed, as in the case of the wizard +bishop of Cahors; her body burned limb by limb on a +small fire of red-hot coal, she was like to endure an +eternity of agony.</p> + +<p>Certainly all were moved when the prayer was +spoken, the harvest-offering made, upon this devoted +creature who gave herself up so humbly. Some wheat +was offered to the <i>Spirit of the Earth</i>, who made wheat +to grow. A flight of birds, most likely from the +woman’s bosom, bore to the <i>God of Freedom</i> the +sighs and prayers of the serfs. What did they ask? +Only that we, their distant descendants, might become +free.<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></p> + +<p>What was the sacrament she divided among them? +Not the ridiculous pledge we find later in the reign of +Henry IV., but most likely that <i>confarreatio</i> which we +saw in the case of the philtres, the hallowed pledge of +love, a cake baked on her own body, on the victim who, +perhaps, to-morrow would herself be passing through +the fire. It was her life, her death, they ate there. +One sniffs already the scorching flesh.</p> + +<p>Last of all they set upon her two offerings, seemingly +of flesh; two images, one of <i>the latest dead</i>, the +other of the newest-born in the district. These shared +in the special virtue assigned to her who acted as altar +and Host in one, and on these the assembly made a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>show of receiving the communion. Their Host would +thus be threefold, and always human. Under a +shadowy likeness of the Devil the people worshipped +none other than its own self.</p> + +<p>The true sacrifice was now over and done. The +woman’s work was ended, when she gave herself up to +be eaten by the multitude. Rising from her former +posture, she would not withdraw from the spot until +she had proudly stated, and, as it were, confirmed the +lawfulness of her proceedings by an appeal to the +thunderbolt, by an insolent defiance of the discrowned +God.</p> + +<p>In mockery of the <i>Agnus Dei</i>, and the breaking of +the Christian Host, she brought a toad dressed up, and +pulled it to pieces. Then rolling her eyes about in a +frightful way she raised them to heaven, and beheading +the toad, uttered these strange words: “Ah, +<i>Philip</i>,<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> if I had you here, you should be served in the +same manner!”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>No answer being outwardly given to her challenge, +no thunderbolt hurled upon her head, they imagine +that she has triumphed over the Christ. The nimble +band of demons seized their moment to astonish the +people with various small wonders which amazed and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>overawed the more credulous. The toads, quite +harmless in fact, but then accounted poisonous, were +bitten and torn between their dainty teeth. They +jumped over large fires and pans of live coal, to amuse +the crowd and make them laugh at the fires of Hell.</p> + +<p>Did the people really laugh after a scene so tragical, +so very bold? I know not. Assuredly there was no +laughing on the part of her who first dared all this. +To her these fires must have seemed like those of the +nearest stake. Her business rather lay in forecasting +the future of that devilish monarchy, in creating the +Witch to be.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> The least bad of these is by Lancre, a man of some wit, +whose evident connection with some young witches gave him +something to say. The accounts of the Jesuit Del Rio and +the Dominican Michaëlis are the absurd productions of two +credulous and silly pedants.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> At the battle of Courtray. See also Grimm and my +<i>Origines</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“We are fashioned of one clay:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Big as theirs our hearts are aye:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We can bear as much as they.”—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> The Peasants’ war which raged in France in 1364.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> This is taken from Del Rio, but is not, I think, peculiar to +Spain. It is an ancient trait, and marked by the primitive +inspiration.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> This important fact of the woman being her own altar, is +known to us by the trial of La Voisin, which M. Ravaisson, +Sen., is about to publish with the other <i>Papers of the Bastille</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> This grateful offering of wheat and birds is peculiar to +France. In Lorraine, and no doubt in Germany, black beasts +were offered, as the black cat, the black goat, or the black bull.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> Lancre, 136. Why “Philip,” I cannot say. By Satan +Jesus is always called John or <i>Janicot</i> (Jack). Was she speaking +of Philip of Valois, who brought on the wasting hundred +years’ war with England?</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE SEQUEL—LOVE AND DEATH—SATAN DISAPPEARS.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">And</span> now the multitude is made free, is of good cheer. +For some hours the serf reigns in short-lived freedom. +His time indeed is scant enough. Already the sky is +changing, the stars are going down. Another moment, +and the cruel dawn remits him to his slavery, brings +him back again under hostile eyes, under the shadow +of the castle, beneath the shadow of the church; back +again to his monotonous toiling, to the old unending +weariness of heart, governed as it were by two bells, +whereof one keeps saying “Always,” the other +“Never.” Anon they will be seen coming each out +of his own house, heavily, humbly, with an air of calm +composure.</p> + +<p>Let them at least enjoy the one short moment! Let +each of these disinherited, for once fulfil his fancy, for +once indulge his musings. What soul is there so +all unhappy, so lost to all feeling, as never to have one +good dream, one fond desire; never to say, “If this +would only happen!”</p> + +<p>The only detailed accounts we have, as I said before, +are modern, belonging to a time of peace and well-doing, +when France was blooming afresh, in the latter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +years of Henry VI., years of thriving luxury, entirely +different from that dark age when the Sabbath was first +set going.</p> + +<p>No thanks to Mr. Lancre and others, if we refrain +from pourtraying the Third Act as like the Church-Fair +of Rubens, a very miscellaneous orgie, a great +burlesque ball, which allowed of every kind of union, +especially between near kindred. According to those +authors, who would make us groan with horror, the +main end of the Sabbath, the explicit doctrine taught +by Satan, was incest; and in those great gatherings, +sometimes of two thousand souls, the most startling +deeds were done before the whole world.</p> + +<p>This is hard to believe; and the same writers tell of +other things which seem quite opposed to a view so +cynical. They say that people went to those meetings +only in pairs, that they sat down to the feast by twos, +that even if one person came alone, she was assigned a +young demon, who took charge of her, and did the +honours of the feast. They say, too, that jealous lovers +were not afraid to go thither in company with the +curious fair.</p> + +<p>We also find that the most of them came by +families, children and all. The latter were sent off +only during the first act, not during the feast, nor the +services, nor yet while this third act was going on; a +fact which proves that some decency was observed. +Moreover, the scene was twofold. The household +groups stayed on the moor in a blaze of light. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +only beyond the fantastic curtain of torch-smoke that +the darker spaces, where people could roam in all +directions, began.</p> + +<p>The judges, the inquisitors, for all their enmity, are +fain to allow the existence here of a general spirit of +peace and mildness. Of the three things that startle +us in the feasts of nobles, there is not one here; no +swords, no duels, no tables reeking blood. No faithless +gallantries here bring dishonour on some intimate +friend. Unknown, unneeded here, for all they say, is +the unclean brotherhood of the Temple; in the Sabbath, +woman is everything.</p> + +<p>The question of incest needs explaining. All +alliances between kinsfolk, even those most allowable +in the present day, were then regarded as a crime. +The modern law, which is charity itself, understands +the heart of man and the well-being of families.<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> It +allows the widower to marry his wife’s sister, the best +mother his children could have. Above all, it allows +a man to wed his cousin, whom he knows and may +trust fully, whom he has loved perhaps from childhood, +his playfellow of old, regarded by his mother +with special favour as already the adopted of her own +heart. In the Middle Ages all this was incestuous.</p> + +<p>The peasant being fondest of his own family was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>driven to despair. It was a monstrous thing for him +to marry a cousin, even in the sixth degree. It was +impossible for him to get married in his own village +where the question of kinship stood so much in his +way. He had to look for a wife elsewhere, afar off. +But in those days there was not much intercourse or +acquaintance between different places, and each hated +its own neighbours. On feast days one village would +fight another without knowing the reason why, as may +sometimes still be seen in countries never so thinly +peopled. No one durst go seek a wife in the very spot +where men had been fighting together, where he himself +would have been in great danger.</p> + +<p>There was another difficulty. The lord of the young +serf forbade his marrying in the next lordship. Becoming +the serf of his wife’s lord he would have been +wholly lost to his own. Thus he was debarred by the +priest from his cousin, by the lord from a stranger; +and so it happened that many did not marry at all.</p> + +<p>The result was just what they pretended to avoid. +In the Sabbath the natural sympathies sprang forth +again. There the youth found again her whom he +had known and loved at first, her whose “little husband” +he had been called at ten years old. Preferring +her as he certainly did, he paid but little heed to +canonical hindrances.</p> + +<p>When we come to know the Mediæval Family better, +we give up believing the declamatory assumptions of a +general mingling together of the people forming so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +great a crowd. On the contrary, we feel that each +small group is so closely joined together, as to be +utterly barred to the entrance of a stranger.</p> + +<p>The serf was not jealous towards his own kin, but +his poverty and wretchedness made him exceedingly +afraid of worsening his lot by multiplying children +whom he could not support. The priest and the lord +on their part wished to increase the number of their +serfs—wanted the woman to be always bearing; and +the strangest sermons were often delivered on this +head,<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a> varied sometimes with threats and cruel reproaches. +All the more resolute was the prudence of +the man. The woman, poor creature, unable to bear +children fit to live on such conditions, bearing them +only to her sorrow, had a horror of being made big. +She never would have ventured to one of these night +festivals without being first assured, again and again, +that no woman ever came away pregnant.<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a></p> + +<p>They were drawn thither by the banquet, the +dancing, the lights, the amusements; in nowise by +carnal pleasure. The last thing they cared for was to +heighten their poverty, to bring one more wretch into +the world, to give another serf to their lord.</p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 0em; font-size: 150%">*<span style="padding-left: 2.5em">*</span><span style="padding-left: 2.5em">*</span><span style="padding-left: 2.5em">*</span><span style="padding-left: 2.5em">*</span></p> + + + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p><p>Cruel indeed was the social system of those days. +Authority bade men marry, but rendered marriage +nearly impossible, at once by the excessive misery of +most, and the senseless cruelty of the canonical prohibitions.</p> + +<p>The result was quite opposed to the purity thus +preached. Under a show of Christianity existed the +patriarchate of Asia alone.</p> + +<p>Only the firstborn married. The younger brothers +and sisters worked under him and for him. In the +lonely farms of the mountains of the South, far from +all neighbours and every woman, brothers and sisters +lived together, the latter serving and in all ways belonging +to the former; a way of life analogous to that +in Genesis, to the marriages of the Parsees, to the +customs still obtaining in certain shepherd tribes of +the Himalayas.</p> + +<p>The mother’s fate was still more revolting. She +could not marry her son to a kinswoman, and thus +secure to herself a kindly-affected daughter-in-law. +Her son married, if he could, a girl from a distant +village, an enemy often, whose entrance proved baneful +either to the children of a former marriage, or to the +poor mother, who was often driven away by the stranger +wife. You may not think it, but the fact is certainly +so. At the very least she was ill-used; banished from +the fireside, from the very table.</p> + +<p>There is a Swiss law forbidding the removal of the +mother from her place by the chimney-corner.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>She was exceedingly afraid of her son’s marrying. +But her lot was little happier if he did not marry. +None the less servant was she of the young master of +the house, who succeeded to all his father’s rights, +even to that of beating her. This impious custom +I have seen still followed in the South: a son of +five-and-twenty chastising his mother when she got +drunk.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>How much greater her suffering in those days of +savagery! Then it was rather he who came back from +the feast half-drunken, hardly knowing what he was +about. But one room, but one bed, was all they had +between them. She was by no means free from fear. +He had seen his friends married, and felt soured thereat. +Thenceforth her way is marked by tears, by utter +weakness, by a woful self-surrender. Threatened by +her only God, her son, heart-broken at finding herself +in a plight so unnatural, she falls desperate. She tries +to drown all her memories in sleep. At length comes +an issue for which neither of them can fairly account, +an issue such as nowadays will often happen in the +poorer quarters of large towns, where some poor woman +is forced, frightened, perhaps beaten, into bearing +every outrage. Thus conquered, and, spite of her +scruples, far too resigned, she endured thenceforth a +pitiable bondage; a life of shame and sorrow, and +abundant anguish, growing with the yearly widening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +difference between their several ages. The woman of +six-and-thirty might keep watch over a son of twenty +years: but at fifty, alas! or still later, where would he +be? From the great Sabbath where thronged the people +of far villages, he would be bringing home a strange +woman for his youthful mistress, a woman hard, heartless, +devoid of ruth, who would rob her of her son, her +seat by the fire, her bed, of the very house which she +herself had made.</p> + +<p>To believe Lancre and others, Satan accounted the +son for praiseworthy, if he kept faithful to his mother, +thus making a virtue of a crime. If this be true, we +must assume that the woman was protected by a woman, +that the Witch sided with the mother, to defend her +hearth against a daughter-in-law who, stick in hand, +would have sent her forth to beg.</p> + +<p>Lancre further maintains that “never was good +Witch, but she sprang from the love of a mother for +her son.” In this way, indeed, was born the Persian +soothsayer, the natural fruit, they say, of so hateful a +mystery; and thus the secrets of the magical art were +kept confined to one family which constantly renewed +itself.</p> + +<p>An impious error led them to imitate the harmless +mystery of the husbandman, the unceasing vegetable +round whereby the corn resown in the furrow, brings +forth its corn.</p> + +<p>The less monstrous unions of brother with sister, so +common in the East, and in Greece, were cold and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +rarely fruitful. They were wisely abandoned; nor +would people ever have returned to them, but for that +rebellious spirit which, being aroused by absurd restrictions, +flung itself foolishly into the opposite +extreme. Thus from unnatural laws, hatred begot +unnatural customs.</p> + +<p>A cruel, an accursed time, a time big with despair!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>We have been long discoursing; but the dawn is +well-nigh come. In a moment the hour will strike for +the spirits to take themselves away. The Witch feels +her dismal flowers already withering on her brow. +Farewell, her royalty, perhaps her life! Where would +they be, if the day still found her there?</p> + +<p>Of Satan, what shall she make? A flame, a cinder? +He asks for nothing better; knowing well, in his craftiness, +that the only way to live and to be born again, +is first to die.</p> + +<p>And will he die, he who as the mighty summoner of +the dead, granted to them that mourn their only joy +on earth, the love they had lost, the dream they had +cherished? Ah, no! he is very sure to live.</p> + +<p>Will he die, he that mighty spirit who, finding +Creation accurst, and Nature lying cold upon the +ground, flung thither like a dirty foster-child from off +the Church’s garment, gathered her up and placed her +on his bosom? In truth it cannot be.</p> + +<p>Will he die, he the one great physician of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +Middle Ages, of a world that, falling sick, was saved +by his poisons and bidden, poor fool, to live?</p> + +<p>As the gay rogue is sure of living, he dies wholly at +his ease. He shuffles out of himself, cleverly burns up +his fine goatskin, and disappears in a blaze of dawn.</p> + +<p>But <i>she</i> who made Satan, who made all things, good +or ill, whose countenance was given to so many forms +of love, of devotion, and of crime,—to what end will +she come? Behold her all lonely on her waste moorland.</p> + +<p>She is not, as they say, the dread of all. Many +will bless her. More than one have found her beautiful, +would sell their share in Paradise to dare be near +her. But all around her is a wide gulf. They who +admire, are none the less afraid of this all-powerful +Medea, with her fair deep eyes, and the thrilling +adders of her dark overflowing hair.</p> + +<p>To her thus lonely for ever, for evermore without +love, what is there left? Nothing but the Demon +who had suddenly disappeared.</p> + +<p>“’Tis well, good Devil, let us go. I am utterly +loath to stay here any more. Hell itself is far preferable. +Farewell to the world!”</p> + +<p>She must live but a very little longer, to play out the +dreadful drama she had herself begun. Near her, +ready saddled by the obedient Satan, stood a huge +black horse, the fire darting from his eyes and nostrils. +She sprang upon him with one bound.</p> + +<p>They follow her with their eyes. The good folk say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +with alarm, “What is to become of her?” With a +frightful burst of laughter, she goes off, vanishing +swift as an arrow. They would like much to know +what becomes of the poor woman, but that they +never will.<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a></p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> Of course the allusion here, as shown in the next following +sentence, is to French law in particular. As for the marriage +of cousins, there is much to say on both sides of the +question.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> The ingenious M. Génin has very recently collected the +most curious information on this point.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> Boguet, Lancre, and other authors, are agreed on this +question.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> See the end of the Witch of Berkeley, as told by William +of Malmesbury.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II"></a>BOOK II.</h2> + + + +<hr /> +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_I_2" id="CHAPTER_I_2"></a>CHAPTER I.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE WITCH IN HER DECLINE—SATAN MULTIPLIED AND +MADE COMMON.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> Devil’s delicate fondling, the lesser Witch, begotten +of the Black Mass after the greater one’s disappearance, +came and bloomed in all her malignant +cat-like grace. This woman is quite the reverse of the +other: refined and sidelong in manner, sly and purring +demurely, quick also at setting up her back. There is +nothing of the Titan about her, to be sure. Far from +that, she is naturally base; lewd from her cradle and +full of evil daintinesses. Her whole life is the expression +of those unclean thoughts which sometimes in +a dream by night may assail him who would shrink +with horror from any such by day.</p> + +<p>She who is born with such a secret in her blood, +with such instinctive mastery of evil, she who has +looked so far and so low down, will have no religion, +no respect for anything or person in the world; none +even for Satan, since he is a spirit still, while she has +a particular relish for all things material.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>In her childhood she spoiled everything. Tall and +pretty she startled all by her slovenly habits. With +her Witchcraft becomes a mysterious cooking up of +some mysterious chemistry. From an early date she +delights to handle repulsive things, to-day a drug, to-morrow +an intrigue. Among diseases and love-affairs +she is in her element. She will make a clever go-between, +a bold and skilful empiric. War will be made +against her as a fancied murderer, as a woman who +deals in poisons. And yet she has small taste for such +things, is far from murderous in her desires. Devoid +of goodness, she yet loves life, loves to work cures, to +prolong others’ lives. She is dangerous in two ways: +on the one hand by selling receipts for barrenness, and +even for abortion; while on the other, her headlong +libertine fancy leads her to compass a woman’s fall +with her cursed potions, to triumph in the wicked +deeds of love.</p> + +<p>Different, indeed, is this one from the other! She +is a manufacturer: the other was the ungodly one, the +demon, the great rebellion, the wife, we might almost +say, the mother of Satan; for out of her and her inward +strength he grew up. But this one is the Devil’s +daughter notwithstanding. Two things she derives +from him, her uncleanness, her love of handling life. +These are her allotted walk, in these she is quite an +artist; an artist already trading in her lore, and we +are admitted into the business.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was said that she would perpetuate herself by the +incest from which she sprang. But she has no need +of that: numberless little ones will she beget without +help from another. In less than fifty years, at the +opening of the fifteenth century, under Charles VI., a +mighty contagion was spread abroad. Whoever +thought he had any secrets or any receipts, whoever +fancied himself a seer, whoever dreamed and travelled +in his dreams, would call himself a pet of Satan. +Every moonstruck woman adopted the awful name of +Witch!</p> + +<p>A perilous, profitable name, cast at her in their +hatred by people who alternately insult and implore +the unknown power. It is none the less accepted, nay, +is often claimed. To the children who follow her, to +the woman who, with threatening fists, hurl the name +at her like a stone, she turns round, saying proudly, +“’Tis true, you have said well!”</p> + +<p>The business improves, and men are mingled in it. +Hence another fall for the art. Still the least of the +witches retains somewhat of the Sibyl. Those other +frowsy charlatans, those clownish jugglers, mole-catchers, +ratkillers, who throw spells over beasts, who +sell secrets which they have not, defiled these times +with the stench of a dismal black smoke, of fear and +foolery. Satan grows enormous, gets multiplied without +end. ’Tis a poor triumph, however, for him. He +grows dull and sick at heart. Still the people keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +flowing towards him, bent on having no other God +than he. Himself only is to himself untrue.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In spite of two or three great discoveries, the fifteenth +century is, to my thinking, none the less a century +tired out, a century of few ideas.</p> + +<p>It opened right worthily with the Sabbath Royal of +St. Denis, the wild and woful ball given by Charles VI. +in the abbey so named, to commemorate the burial of +Du Guesclin, which had taken place so many years +before. For three days and nights was Sodom wallowing +among the graves. The foolish king, not yet +grown quite an idiot, compelled his royal forefathers +to share in the ball, by making their dry bones dance +in their biers. Death, becoming a go-between whether +he would or no, lent a sharp spur to the voluptuous +revel. Then broke out those unclean fashions of an +age when ladies made themselves taller by wearing the +Devil’s horned-bonnet, and gloried in dressing as if +they were all with child.<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> To this fashion they clung +for the next forty years. The younger folk on their +side, not to be behind in shamelessness, eclipsed them +in the display of naked charms. The woman wore +Satan on her forehead in the shape of a horned head-dress: +on the feet of the bachelor and the page he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>was visible in the tapering scorpion-like tips of their +shoes. Under the mask of animals they represented +the lowest side of brute nature. The famous child +stealer, Retz, here took his first flight in villany. The +great feudal ladies, unbridled Jezebels, with less sense +of shame in them than the men, scorned all disguise +whatever; displayed themselves with face uncovered. +In their sensual rages, in their mad parade of debauchery, +the king, the whole company might see the +bottomless pit itself yawning for the life, the feeling, +the body, and the soul of each.</p> + +<p>Out of such doings come forth the conquered of +Agincourt, a poor generation of effete nobles, in whose +miniatures you shiver to see the falling away of their +sorry limbs, as shown through the treacherous tightness +of their clothes.<a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Much to be pitied is the Witch who, when the great +lady came home from that royal feast, became her +bosom-counsellor and agent charged with the doing of +impossible things.</p> + +<p>In her own castle, indeed, the lady is almost, if not +all alone, amidst a crowd of single men. To judge +from romances you would think she delighted in girding +herself with an array of fair girls. Far otherwise +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>are we taught by history and common sense. Eleanor +is not so silly as to match herself against Rosamond. +With all their own rakishness, those queens and great +ladies could be frightfully jealous; witness she who is +said by Henry Martin to have caused the death of a +girl admired by her husband, under the outrageous +handling of his soldiery. The power wielded by the +lady’s love depends, we repeat, on her being alone. +Whatever her age and figure, she becomes the dream +of all. The Witch takes mischievous delight in making +her abuse her goddesship, in tempting her to make +game of the men she humbles and befools. She goes +to all lengths of boldness, even treating them like very +beasts. Look at them being transformed! Down on +all fours they tumble, like fawning monkeys, absurd +bears, lewd dogs, or swine eager to follow their contemptuous +Circé.</p> + +<p>Her pity rises thereat? Nay, but she grows sick +of it all, and kicks those crawling beasts with her foot. +The thing is impure, but not heinous enough. An +absurd remedy is found for her complaint. These +others being so nought, she is to have something yet +more nought—namely, a little sweetheart. The advice +is worthy of the Witch. Love’s spark shall be lighted +before its time in some young innocent, sleeping the +pure sleep of childhood! Here you have the ugly +tale of little John of Saintré, pink of cherubim, and +other paltry puppets of the Age of Decay.</p> + +<p>Through all those pedantic embellishments and sentimental<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +moralizings, one clearly marks the vile cruelty +that lies below. The fruit was killed in the flower. +Here, in a manner, is the very “eating of children,” +which was laid so often to the Witch’s charge. Anyhow, +she drained their lives. The fair lady who +caresses one in so tender and motherly a way, what is +she but a vampire, draining the blood of the weak? +The upshot of such atrocities we may gather from +the tale itself. Saintré becomes a perfect knight, but +so utterly frail and weak as to be dared and defied by +the lout of a peasant priest, in whom the lady, become +better advised, has seen something that will suit her +best.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Such idle whimsies heighten the surfeit, the mad +rage of an empty mind. Circé among her beasts grows +so weary and heartsick that she would be a beast herself. +She fancies herself wild, and locks herself up. +From her tower she casts an evil eye towards the +gloomy forest. She fancies herself a prisoner, and +rages like a wolf chained fast. “Let the old woman +come this moment: I want her. Run!” Two minutes +later again: “What! is she not come yet?”</p> + +<p>At last she is come. “Hark you: I have a sore +longing—invincible, as you know—to choke you, to +drown you, or to give you up to the bishop, who +already claims you. You have but one way of escape, +that is, to satisfy another longing of mine by changing +me into a wolf. I feel wretchedly bored, weary of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +keeping still. I want, by night at least, to run free +about the forest. Away with stupid servants, with +dogs that stun me with their noise, with clumsy horses +that kick out and shy at a thicket.”</p> + +<p>“But if you were caught, my lady——”</p> + +<p>“Insolent woman! You would rather die, then?”</p> + +<p>“At least you have heard the story of the woman-wolf, +whose paw was cut off.<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> But, oh! how sorry I +should be.”</p> + +<p>“That is my concern. I will hear nothing more, +I am in a hurry—have been barking already. What +happiness, to hunt all by myself in the clear moonlight; +by myself to fasten on the hind, or man likewise +if he comes near me; to attack the tender children, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>and, above all, to set my teeth in the women; ay, the +women, for I hate them all—not one like yourself. +Don’t start, I won’t bite you—you are not to my taste, +and besides, you have no blood in you! ’Tis blood I +crave—blood!”</p> + +<p>She can no longer refuse. “Nothing easier, my +lady. To-night, at nine o’clock, you will drink this. +Lock yourself up, and then turning into a wolf, while +they think you are still here, you can scour the +forest.”</p> + +<p>It is done; and next morning the lady finds herself +worn out and depressed. In one night she must have +travelled some thirty leagues. She has been hunting +and slaying until she is covered with blood. But the +blood, perhaps, comes from her having torn herself +among the brambles.</p> + +<p>A great triumph and danger also for her who has +wrought this miracle. From the lady, however, whose +command provoked it, she receives but a gloomy welcome. +“Witch, ’tis a fearful power you have; I +should never have guessed it. But now I fear and +dread you. Good cause, indeed, they have to hate +you. A happy day will it be when you are burnt. I +can ruin you when I please. One word of mine about +last night, and my peasants would this evening whet +their scythes upon you. Out, you black-looking, hateful +old hag!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p><hr /> + +<p>The great folk, her patrons, launch her into strange +adventures. For what can she refuse to her terrible +protectors, when nothing but the castle saves her from +the priest, from the faggot? If the baron, on his return +from a crusade, being bent on copying the manners +of the Turks, sends for her, and orders her to +steal him a few children, what can she do? Raids +such as those grand ones in which two thousand pages +were sometimes carried off from Greek ground to enter +the seraglio, were by no means unknown to the +Christians; were known from the tenth century to the +barons of England, at a later date to the knights of +Rhodes and Malta. The famous Giles of Retz, the +only one brought to trial, was punished, not for having +stolen his small serfs, a crime not then uncommon, but +for having sacrificed them to Satan. She who actually +stole them, and was ignorant, doubtless, of their future +lot, found herself between two perils: on the one hand +the peasant’s fork and scythe; on the other, those +torments which awaited her, when recusant, within the +tower. Retz’s terrible Italian would have made nothing +of pounding her in a mortar.<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a></p> + +<p>On all sides the perils and the profits went together. +A position more frightfully corrupting could not have +been found. The Witches themselves did not deny the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>absurd powers imputed to them by the people. They +averred that by means of a doll stuck over with needles +they could weave their spells around whomever they +pleased, making him waste away until he died. They +averred that mandragora, torn from beneath the +gallows by the teeth of a dog, who invariably died +therefrom, enabled them to pervert the understanding; +to turn men into beasts, to give women over to idiotcy +and madness. Still more dreadful was the furious +frenzy caused by the Thorn-apple, or Datura, which +made men dance themselves to death, and go through +a thousand shameful antics, without their own knowledge +or remembrance.<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Hence there grew up against them a feeling of +boundless hatred, mingled with as extreme a fear. +Sprenger, who wrote the <i>Hammer for Witches</i>, relates +with horror how, in a season of snow, when all the +roads were broken up, he saw a wretched multitude, +wild with terror, and spell-bound by evils all too real, +fill up all the approaches to a little German town. +“Never,” says he, “did you behold so mighty a pilgrimage +to our Lady of Grace, or her of the wilderness. +All these people, who hobbled, crawled, and stumbled +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>among the quagmires, were on their way to the Witch, +to beseech the grace of the Devil upon themselves. +How proud and excited must the old woman have felt +at seeing so large a concourse prostrate before her +feet!”<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a></p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> Even in a very mystic theme, in a work of such genius as +the <i>Lamb</i> of Van Eyck (says John of Bruges), all the Virgins +seem big. It was only the quaint fashion of the fifteenth +century.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> This wasting away of a used-up, enervated race, mars the +effect of all those splendid miniatures of the Court of Burgundy, +the Duke of Berry, &c. No amount of clever handling could +make good works of art out of subjects so very pitiable.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> Among the great ladies imprisoned in their castles, this +dreadful fancy was not rare. They hungered and thirsted for +freedom, for savage freedom. Boguet mentions how, among +the hills of Auvergne, a hunter one night drew his sword upon +a she-wolf, but missing her, cut off her paw. She fled away +limping. He came to a neighbouring castle to seek the hospitality +of him who dwelt there. The gentleman, on seeing him, +asked if he had had good sport. By way of answer he thought +to draw out of his pouch the she-wolf’s paw; but what was his +amazement to find instead of the paw a hand, and on one of +the fingers a ring, which the gentleman recognized as belonging +to his wife! Going at once in search of her, he found her hurt +and hiding her fore-arm. To the arm which had lost its hand +he fitted that which the hunter had brought him, and the lady +was fain to own that she it was, who in the likeness of a wolf +had attacked the hunter, and afterwards saved herself by leaving +a paw on the battle-field. The husband had the cruelty to +give her up to justice, and she was burnt.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> See my <i>History of France</i>, and still more the learned and +careful account by the lamented Armand Guéraud: <i>Notice sur +Gilles de Rais</i>, Nantes, 1855. We there find that the purveyors +of that horrible child’s charnel-house were mostly men.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> Pouchet, on the <i>Solaneæ and General Botany</i>. Nysten, +<i>Dictionary of Medicine</i>, article <i>Datura</i>. The robbers employed +these potions but too often. A butcher of Aix and his wife, +whom they wanted to rob of their money, were made to drink +of some such, and became so maddened thereby, that they +danced all one night naked in a cemetery.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> The Witch delighted in causing the noble and the great to +undergo the most outrageous trials of their love. We know +that queens and ladies of rank (in Italy even to the last century) +held their court at times the most forbidding, and exacted +the most unpleasant services from their favourites. There was +nothing too mean, too repulsive, for the domestic brute—the +<i>cicisbeo</i>, the priest, the half-witted page—to undergo, in the +stupid belief that the power of a philtre increased with its +nastiness. This was sad enough when the ladies were neither +young, nor beautiful, nor witty. But what of that other astounding +fact, that a Witch, who was neither a great lady, nor +young, nor fair, but poor, and perhaps a serf, clad only in dirty +rags, could still by her malice, by the strange power of her +raging lewdness, by some bewitchingly treacherous spell, +stupefy the gravest personages, and abase them to so low a +depth? Some monks of a monastery on the Rhine, wherein, +as in many other German convents, none but a noble of four +hundred years’ standing could gain admission, sorrowfully +owned to Sprenger that they had seen three of their brethren +bewitched in turn, and a fourth killed by a woman, who boldly +said, “I did it, and will do so again: they cannot escape me, +for they have eaten,” &c. (Sprenger, <i>Malleus maleficarum</i>, +<i>quæstio</i>, vii. p. 84.) “The worst of it is,” says Sprenger, “that +we have no means of punishing or examining her: <i>so she lives +still</i>.”</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_II_2" id="CHAPTER_II_2"></a>CHAPTER II.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE HAMMER FOR WITCHES.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> witches took small care to hide their game. +Rather they boasted of it; and it was, indeed, from +their own lips that Sprenger picked up the bulk of the +tales that grace his handbook. It is a pedantic work, +marked out into the absurd divisions and subdivisions +employed by the followers of St. Thomas Aquinas; +but a work sincere withal, and frank-spoken, written +by a man so thoroughly frightened by this dreadful +duel between God and the Devil, wherein God <i>generally</i> +allows the Devil to win, that the only remedy he can +discern is to pursue the latter fire in hand, and burn +with all speed those bodies which he had chosen for his +dwelling-place.</p> + +<p>Sprenger’s sole merit is the fact of his having written +a complete book, which crowns a mighty system, a +whole literature. To the old <i>Penitentiaries</i>, handbooks +of confessors for the inquisition of sin, succeeded +the <i>Directories</i> for the inquisition of heresy, the greatest +sin of all. But for Witchcraft, the greatest of all +heresies, special handbooks or directories were appointed. +Hammers for Witches, to wit. These handbooks, +continually enriched by the zeal of the Dominicans,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +attained perfection in the <i>Malleus</i> of Sprenger, +the book by which he himself was guided during his +great mission to Germany, and which for a century +after served as a guide and light for the courts of the +Inquisition.</p> + +<p>How was Sprenger led to the study of these things? +He tells us that being in Rome, at a refectory where +the monks were entertaining some pilgrims, he saw +two from Bohemia; one a young priest, the other his +father. The father sighing prayed for a successful +journey. Touched with a kindly feeling Sprenger +asked him why he sorrowed. Because his son was +<i>possessed</i>: at great cost and with much trouble he had +brought him to the tomb of the saints, at Rome.</p> + +<p>“Where is this son of yours?” said the monk.</p> + +<p>“By your side.”</p> + +<p>“At this answer I shrank back alarmed. I scanned +the young priest’s figure, and was amazed to see him +eat with so modest an air, and answer with so much +gentleness. He informed me that, on speaking somewhat +sharply to an old woman, she had laid him under +a spell, and that spell was under a tree. What tree? +The Witch steadily refused to say.”</p> + +<p>Sprenger’s charity led him to take the possessed +from church to church, from relic to relic. At every +halting-place there was an exorcism, followed by furious +cries, contortions, jabbering in every language, and +gambols without number: all this before the people, +who followed the pair with shuddering admiration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +The devils, so abundant in Germany, were scarcer +among the Italians. For some days Rome talked of +nothing else. The noise made by this affair doubtless +brought the Dominican into public notice. He studied, +collected all the <i>Mallei</i>, and other manuscript handbooks, +and became a first-rate authority in the processes +against demons. His <i>Malleus</i> was most likely +composed during the twenty years between this adventure +and the important mission entrusted to Sprenger +by Pope Innocent VIII., in 1484.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>For that mission to Germany a clever man was +specially needed; a man of wit and ability, who might +overcome the dislike of honest German folk for the +dark system it would be his care to introduce. In the +Low Countries Rome had suffered a rude check, which +brought the Inquisition into vogue there, and consequently +closed France against it: Toulouse alone, +as being the old Albigensian country, having endured +the Inquisition. About the year 1460 a Penitentiary<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> +of Rome, being made Dean of Arras, thought to strike +an awe-inspiring blow at the <i>Chambers of Rhetoric</i>, +literary clubs which had begun to handle religious +questions. He had one of these Rhetoricians burnt for +a wizard, and along with him some wealthy burgesses, +and even a few knights. The nobles were angry at +this near approach to themselves: the public voice was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>raised in violent outcry. The Inquisition was cursed +and spat upon, especially in France. The Parliament +of Paris roughly closed its doors upon it; and thus by +her awkwardness did Rome lose her opportunity of +establishing that Reign of Terror throughout the North.</p> + +<p>About 1484 the time seemed better chosen. The +Inquisition had grown to so dreadful a height in +Spain, setting itself even above the king, that it seemed +already confirmed as a conquering institution, able to +move forward alone, to make its way everywhere, and +seize upon everything. In Germany, indeed, it was +hindered by the jealous antagonism of the spiritual +princes, who, having courts of their own, and holding +inquisitions by themselves, would never agree to accept +that of Rome. But the position of these princes +towards the popular movements by which they were +then so greatly disquieted, soon rendered them more +manageable. All along the Rhine, and throughout +Swabia, even on the eastern side towards Salzburg, the +country seemed to be undermined. At every moment +burst forth some fresh revolt of the peasantry. A vast +underground volcano, an invisible lake of fire, showed +itself, as it were, from place to place, in continual +spouts of flame. More dreaded than that of Germany, +the foreign Inquisition appeared at a most seasonable +hour for spreading terror through the country, and +crushing the rebellious spirits, by roasting, as the +wizards of to-day, those who might else have been the +insurgents of to-morrow. It was a beautiful <i>derivative</i>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +an excellent popular weapon for putting down the +people. This time the storm got turned upon the +Wizards, as in 1349, and on many other occasions it +had been launched against the Jews.</p> + +<p>Only the right man was needed. He who should +be the first to set up his judgment-seat in sight of the +jealous courts of Mentz and Cologne, in presence of +the mocking mobs of Strazburg or Frankfort, must +indeed be a man of ready wit. He would need great +personal cleverness to atone for, to cause a partial +forgetfulness of his hateful mission. Rome, too, has +always plumed herself on choosing the best men for +her work. Caring little for questions, and much for +persons, she thought rightly enough that the successful +issue of her affairs depended on the special character +of her several agents abroad. Was Sprenger the right +man? He was a German to begin with, a Dominican +enjoying beforehand the support of that dreaded order +through all its convents, through all its schools. Need +was there of a worthy son of the schools, a good disputant, +of a man well skilled in the <i>Sum</i>,<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> grounded +firm in his St. Thomas, able at any moment to quote +texts. All this Sprenger certainly was: and best of +all, he was a fool.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“It has been often said that <i>diabolus</i> comes from +<i>dia</i>, ‘two,’ and <i>bolus</i>, ‘a pill or ball,’ because devouring +alike soul and body, he makes but one pill, one mouthful +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>of the two. But”—he goes on to say with the +gravity of <i>Sganarelle</i>—“in Greek etymology <i>diabolus</i> +means ‘shut up in a house of bondage,’ or rather +‘flowing down’ (Teufel?), that is to say, falling, +because he fell from heaven.”</p> + +<p>Whence comes the word sorcery (<i>maléfice</i>)? From +<i>maleficiendo</i>, which means <i>male de fide sentiendo</i>.<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> A +curious etymology, but one that will hold a great deal. +Once trace a resemblance between witchcraft and evil +opinions, and every wizard becomes a heretic, every +doubter a wizard. All who think wrongly can be +burnt for wizards. This was done at Arras; and they +long to establish the same rule, little by little, everywhere +else.</p> + +<p>Herein lies the once sure merit of Sprenger. A +fool, but a fearless one, he boldly lays down the most +unwelcome theses. Others would have striven to shirk, +to explain away, to diminish, the objections that might +be made. Not he, however. From the first page he +puts plainly forward, one by one, the natural manifest +reasons for not believing in the Satanic miracles. To +these he coldly adds: “<i>They are but so many heretical +mistakes</i>.” And without stopping to refute those +reasons, he copies you out the adverse passages found +in the Bible, St. Thomas, in books of legends, in the +canonists, and the scholiasts. Having first shown you +the right interpretation, he grinds it to powder by +dint of authority.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> +<p>He sits down satisfied, calm as a conqueror; seeming +to say, “Well, what say you now? Will you +dare use your reason again? Go and doubt away +then; doubt, for instance, that the Devil delights in +setting himself between wife and husband, although +the Church and all the canonists repeatedly admit this +reason for a divorce!”</p> + +<p>Of a truth this is unanswerable: nobody will breathe +so much as a whisper in reply. Since Sprenger heads +his handbook for judges by declaring the slightest +doubt <i>heretical</i>, the judge stands bound accordingly; +he feels that he cannot stumble, that if unhappily he +should ever be tempted by an impulse of doubt or +humanity, he must begin by condemning himself and +delivering his own body to the flames.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The same method prevails everywhere: first the +sensible meaning, which is then confronted openly, +without reserve, by the negation of all good sense. +Some one, for instance, might be tempted to say that +as love is in the soul, there is no need to account for it +by the mysterious working of the Devil. That is +surely specious, is it not?</p> + +<p>“By no means,” says Sprenger.</p> + +<p>“I mark a difference. He who cuts wood does not +cause it to burn: he only does so indirectly. The +woodcutter is Love; see Denis the Areopagite, +Origen, John of Damascus. Therefore, love is but the +indirect cause of love.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>What a thing, you see, to have studied! No weak +school could have turned out such a man. Only Paris, +Louvain, or Cologne, had machinery fit to mould the +human brain. The school of Paris was mighty: for +dog-Latin who can be matched with the <i>Janotus</i> of +Gargantua?<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> But mightier yet was Cologne, glorious +queen of darkness, whence Hutten drew the type of +his <i>Obscuri viri</i>, that thriving and fruitful race of +obscurantists and ignoramuses.<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></p> + +<p>This massive logician, so full of words, so devoid of +meaning, sworn foe of nature as well as reason, takes +his seat with a proud reliance on his books and gown, +on his dirt and dust. On one side of his judgement-table +lies the <i>Sum</i>, on the other the <i>Directory</i>. Beyond +these he never goes: at all else he only smiles. +On such a man as he there is no imposing: he is not +the man to utter anent astrology or alchemy nonsense +not so foolish but that others might be led thereby to +observe truly. And yet Sprenger is a freethinker: he +is sceptical about old receipts! Albert the Great may +aver, that some sage in a spring of water will suffice to +raise a storm, but Sprenger only shakes his head. +Sage indeed! Tell that to others, I beg. For all my +little experience, I see herein the craft of One who +would put us on the wrong scent, that cunning Prince +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>of the Air; but he will fare ill, for he has to deal +with a doctor more subtle than the Subtle One +himself.</p> + +<p>I should have liked to see face to face this wonderful +specimen of a judge, and the people who were brought +before him. The creatures that God might bring +together from two different worlds would not be more +unlike, more strange to each other, more utterly wanting +in a common language. The old hag, a skeleton +in tatters, with an eye flashing forth evil things, a +being thrice cooked in hell-fire; and the ill-looking +hermit shepherd of the Black Forest or the upper +Alpine wastes—such are the savages offered to the +leaden gaze of a scholarling, to the judgement of a +schoolman.</p> + +<p>Not long will they let him toil in his judgment-seat. +They will tell all without being tortured. Come the +torture will indeed, but afterwards, by way of complement +and crown to the law-procedure. They explain +and relate to order whatever they have done. The +Devil is the Witch’s bedfellow, the shepherd’s intimate +friend. She, for her part, smiles triumphantly, feels a +manifest joy in the horror of those around.</p> + +<p>Truly, the old woman is very mad, and equally so +the shepherd. Are they foolish? Not at all, but far +otherwise. They are refined, subtle, skilled in growing +herbs, and seeing through walls. Still more clearly do +they see those monumental ass’s ears that overshadow +the doctor’s cap. Clearest of all is the fear he has of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +them, for in vain does he try to bear him boldly; he +does nought but tremble. He himself owns that, if +the priest who adjures the demon does not take care, +the Devil will change his lodging only to pass into the +priest himself, feeling all the more proud of dwelling in +a body dedicated to God. Who knows but these +simple Devils of Witches and shepherds might even +aspire to inhabit an inquisitor? He is far from easy +in mind when in his loudest voice he says to the old +woman, “If your master is so mighty, why do I not +feel his blows?”</p> + +<p>“And, indeed I felt them but too strongly,” says +the poor man in his book. “When I was in Ratisbon, +how often he would come knocking at my windowpanes! +How often he stuck pins in my cap! A +hundred visions too did I have of dogs, monkeys,” &c.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The dearest delight of that great logician, the Devil, +is, by the mouth of the seeming old woman, to push +the doctor with awkward arguments, with crafty questions, +from which he can only escape by acting like +the fish who saves himself by troubling the water and +turning it black as ink. For instance, “The Devil +does no more than God allows him: why, then, punish +his tools?” Or again, “We are not free. As in the +case of Job, the Devil is allowed by God to tempt and +beset us, to urge us on by blows. Should we, then, +punish him who is not free?” Sprenger gets out of +that by saying, “We are free beings.” Here come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +plenty of texts. “You are made serfs only by covenant +with the Evil One.” The answer to this would +be but too ready: “If God allows the Evil One to +tempt us into making covenants, he renders covenants +possible,” &c.</p> + +<p>“I am very good,” says he, “to listen to yonder +folk. He is a fool who argues with the Devil.” So +say all the rest likewise. They all cheer the progress +of the trial: all are strongly moved, and show in +murmurs their eagerness for the execution. They +have seen enough of men hanged. As for the Wizard +and the Witch, ’twill be a curious treat to see those two +faggots crackling merrily in the flames.</p> + +<p>The judge has the people on his side, so he is not +embarrassed. According to his <i>Directory</i> three witnesses +would be enough. Are not three witnesses +readily found, especially to witness a falsehood? In +every slanderous town, in every envious village teeming +with the mutual hate of neighbours, witnesses abound. +Besides, the <i>Directory</i> is a superannuated book, a century +old. In that century of light, the fifteenth, all +is brought to perfection. If witnesses are wanting, +we are content with the <i>public voice</i>, the general +clamour.<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> +<p>A genuine outcry, born of fear; the piteous cry of +victims, of the poor bewitched. Sprenger is greatly +moved thereat. Do not fancy him one of those unfeeling +schoolmen, the lovers of a dry abstraction. +He has a heart: for which very reason he is so ready +to kill. He is compassionate, full of lovingkindness. +He feels pity for yon weeping woman, but lately pregnant, +whose babe the witch had smothered by a look. +He feels pity for the poor man whose land she wasted +with hail. He pities the husband, who though himself +no wizard, clearly sees his wife to be a witch, and +drags her with a rope round her neck before Sprenger, +who has her burnt.</p> + +<p>From a cruel judge escape was sometimes possible; +but from our worthy Sprenger it was hopeless. His +humanity is too strong: it needs great management, a +very large amount of ready wit, to avoid a burning at +his hands. One day there was brought before him the +plaint of three good ladies of Strasburg who, at one +same hour of the same day, had been struck by an arm +unseen. Ah, indeed! They are fain to accuse a man +of evil aspect, of having laid them under a spell. On +being brought before the inquisitor, the man vows +and swears by all the saints that he knows nothing +about these ladies, has never so much as seen them. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>The judge is hard of believing: nor tears nor oaths +avail aught with him. His great compassion for the +ladies made him inexorable, indignant at the man’s +denials. Already he was rising from his seat. The +man would have been tortured into confessing his +guilt, as the most innocent often did. He got leave +to speak, and said: “I remember, indeed, having +struck some one yesterday at the hour named; but +whom? No Christian beings, but only three cats +which came furiously biting at my legs.” The judge, +like a shrewd fellow, saw the whole truth of the +matter; the poor man was innocent; the ladies were +doubtless turned on certain days into cats, and the +Evil One amused himself by sending them at the legs +of Christian folk, in order to bring about the ruin of +these latter by making them pass for wizards.</p> + +<p>A judge of less ability would never have hit upon +this. But such a man was not always to be had. It +was needful to have always handy on the table of the +Inquisition a good fool’s guide, to reveal to simple and +inexperienced judges the tricks of the Old Enemy, the +best way of baffling him, the clever and deep-laid +tactics employed with such happy effect by the great +Sprenger in his campaigns on the Rhine. To that +end the <i>Malleus</i>, which a man was required to carry +in his pocket, was commonly printed in small 18mo, +a form at that time scarce. It would not have been +seemly for a judge in difficulties to open a folio on the +table before his audience. But his handbook of folly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +he might easily squint at from the corner of his eye, +or turn over its leaves as he held it under the table.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>This <i>Malleus</i> (or Mallet), like all books of the same +class, contains a singular avowal, namely, that the +Devil is gaining ground; in other words, that God is +losing it; that mankind, after being saved by Christ, +is becoming the Devil’s prey. Too clearly indeed does +he step forward from legend to legend. What a way +he has made between the time of the Gospels, when he +was only too glad to get into the swine, and the days +of Dante, when, as lawyer and divine, he argues +with the saints, pleads his cause, and by way of closing +a successful syllogism, bears away the soul he was +fighting for, saying, with a triumphant laugh, “You +didn’t know that I was a logician!”</p> + +<p>In the earlier days of the Middle Ages he waits till +the last pangs to seize the soul and bear it off. Saint +Hildegarde, about 1100, thinks that “<i>he cannot enter +the body of a living man</i>, for else his limbs would fly +off in all directions: it is but the shadow and the +smoke of the Devil which pass therein.” That last +gleam of good sense vanishes in the twelfth century. +In the thirteenth we find a suppliant so afraid of being +caught alive that he has himself watched day and +night by two hundred armed men.</p> + +<p>Then begins a period of increasing terror, in which +men trust themselves less and ever less to God’s protection. +The Demon is no longer a stealthy sprite, no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +longer a thief by night, gliding through the gloom. +He becomes the fearless adversary, the daring ape of +Heaven, who in broad daylight mimics God’s creation +under God’s own sun. Is it the legends tell us this? +Nay, it is the greatest of the doctors. “The Devil,” says +Albert the Great, “transforms all living things.” St. +Thomas goes yet further. “All changes that may +occur naturally by means of seeds, can be copied by +the Devil.” What an astounding concession, which +coming from the mouth of so grave a personage, means +nothing short of setting up one Creator face to face +with another! “But in things done without the +germinal process,” he adds, “such as the changing of +men into beasts or the resurrection of the dead, there +the Devil can do nothing.” Thus to God is left the +smaller part of His work! He may only perform +miracles, a kind of action alike singular and infrequent. +But the daily miracle of life is not for Him alone: His +copyist, the Devil, shares with Him the world of +nature!</p> + +<p>For man himself, whose weak eyes see no difference +between nature as sprung from God and nature as +made by the Devil, here is a world split in twain! A +dreadful uncertainty hangs over everything. Nature’s +innocence is gone. The clear spring, the pale flower, +the little bird, are these indeed of God, or only treacherous +counterfeits, snares laid out for man? Back! all +things look doubtful! The better of the two creations, +being suspiciously like the other, becomes eclipsed and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +conquered. The shadow of the Devil covers up the +day, spreads over all life. To judge by appearances +and the fears of men, he has ceased to share the world; +he has taken it all to himself.</p> + +<p>So matters stand in the days of Sprenger. His +book teems with saddest avowals of God’s weakness. +“These things,” he says, “are done with God’s leave.” +To permit an illusion so entire, to let people believe that +God is nought and the Devil everything, is more than +mere <i>permission</i>; is tantamount to decreeing the damnation +of countless souls whom nothing can save from +such an error. No prayers, no penances, no pilgrimages, +are of any avail; nor even, so it is said, the sacrament +of the altar. Strange and mortifying avowal! The +very nuns who have just confessed themselves, declare +<i>while the host is yet in their mouths</i>, that even then +they feel the infernal lover troubling them without fear +or shame, troubling and refusing to leave his hold. +And being pressed with further questions, they add, +through their tears, that he has a body <i>because he has +a soul</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Manichees of old, and the more modern Albigenses, +were charged with believing in the Power of +Evil struggling side by side with Good, with making +the Devil equal to God. Here, however, he is more +than equal; for if God through His holy sacrament has +still no power for good, the Devil certainly seems superior.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>I am not surprised at the wondrous sight then offered +by the world. Spain with a darksome fury, Germany +with the frightened pedantic rage certified in the +<i>Malleus</i>, assail the insolent conqueror through the +wretches in whom he chooses to dwell. They burn, +they destroy the dwellings in which he has taken up +his abode. Finding him too strong for men’s souls, +they try to hunt him out of their bodies. But what is +the good of it all? You burn one old woman and he +settles himself in her neighbour. Nay, more; if +Sprenger may be trusted, he fastens sometimes on the +exorcising priest, and triumphs over his very judge.</p> + +<p>Among other expedients, the Dominicans advised +recourse to the intercession of the Virgin, by a continual +repeating of the <i>Ave Maria</i>. Sprenger, for his +part, always averred that such a remedy was but a +momentary one. You might be caught between two +prayers. Hence came the invention of the rosary, the +chaplet of beads, by means of which any number of +aves might be mumbled through, whilst the mind was +busied elsewhere. Whole populations adopted this first +essay of an art thereafter to be used by Loyola in his +attempt to govern the world, an art of which his +<i>Exercises</i> furnish the ingenious groundwork.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>All this seems opposed to what was said in the foregoing +chapter as to the decline of Witchcraft. The +Devil is now popular and everywhere present. He +seems to have come off conqueror: but has he gained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +by his victory? What substantial profit has he reaped +therefrom?</p> + +<p>Much, as beheld in his new phase of a scientific +rebellion which is about to bring forth the bright +Renaissance. None, if beheld under his old aspect, as +the gloomy Spirit of Witchcraft. The stories told of +him in the sixteenth century, if more numerous, more +widespread than ever, readily swing towards the grotesque. +People tremble, but they laugh withal.<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a></p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> Officer charged with the absolution of penitents.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> A mediæval text-book on theology.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> “Thinking ill of the faith.”—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> A character in Rabelais. “Date nobis clochas nostras, &c.”—<i>Gargantua</i>, +ch. 19.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> Ulrich von Hutten, friend of Luther, and author of the +witty <i>Epistolæ obscurorum virorum</i>.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> Faustin Hélie, in his learned and luminous <i>Traité de +l’Instruction Criminelle</i> (vol. i. p. 398), has clearly explained the +manner in which Pope Innocent III., about 1200, suppressed +the safeguards theretofore required in any prosecution, especially +the risk incurred by prosecutors of being punished for +slander. Instead of these were established the dismal processes +of <i>Denunciation and Inquisition</i>. The frightful levity +of these latter methods is shown by Soldan. Blood was shed +like water.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> See my <i>Memoirs of Luther</i>, concerning the Kilcrops, &c.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_III_2" id="CHAPTER_III_2"></a>CHAPTER III.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>CENTURY OF TOLERATION IN FRANCE: REACTION.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> Church forfeited the wizard’s property to the +judge and the prosecutor. Wherever the Canon Law +was enforced the trials for witchcraft waxed numerous, +and brought much wealth to the clergy. Wherever +the lay tribunals claimed the management of these +trials they grew scarce and disappeared, at least for +a hundred years in France, from 1450 to 1550.</p> + +<p>The first gleam of light shot forth from France in +the middle of the fifteenth century. The inquiry made +by Parliament into the trial of Joan of Arc, and her +after reinstalment, set people thinking on the intercourse +of spirits, good and bad; on the errors, also, of +the spiritual courts. She whom the English, whom +the greatest doctors of the Council of Basil pronounced +a Witch, appeared to Frenchmen a saint and sibyl. Her +reinstalment proclaimed to France the beginning of an +age of toleration. The Parliament of Paris likewise +reinstalled the alleged Waldenses of Arras. In 1498 +it discharged as mad one who was brought before it as +a wizard. None such were condemned in the reigns +of Charles VIII., Louis XII., and Francis I.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p><hr /> + +<p>On the contrary, Spain, under the pious Isabella +(1506) and the Cardinal Ximenes, began burning +witches. In 1515, Geneva, being then under a Bishop, +burned five hundred in three months. The Emperor +Charles V., in his German Constitutions, vainly sought +to rule, that “Witchcraft, as causing damage to goods +and persons, is a question for <i>civil</i>, not ecclesiastic +law.” In vain did he do away the right of confiscation, +except in cases of treason. The small prince-bishops, +whose revenues were largely swelled by trials +for witchcraft, kept on burning at a furious rate. In +one moment, as it were, six hundred persons were +burnt in the infinitesimal bishopric of Bamberg, and +nine hundred in that of Wurtzburg. The way of +going to work was very simple. Begin by using torture +against the witnesses; create witnesses for the prosecution +by means of pain and terror; then, by dint of +excessive kindliness, draw from the accused a certain +avowal, and believe that avowal in the teeth of proven +facts. A witch, for instance, owns to having taken +from the graveyard the body of an infant lately dead, +that she might use it in her magical compounds. Her +husband bids them go the graveyard, for the child is +there still. On being disinterred, the child is found +all right in his coffin. But against the witness of his +own eyes the judge pronounces it <i>an appearance</i>, a +cheat of the Devil. He prefers the wife’s confession +to the fact itself; and she is burnt forthwith.<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> +<p>So far did matters go among these worthy prince-bishops, +that after a while, Ferdinand II., the most +bigoted of all emperors, the emperor of the Thirty +Years’ War, was fain to interfere, to set up at Bamberg +an imperial commissary, who should maintain the +law of the empire, and see that the episcopal judge did +not begin the trial with tortures which settled it beforehand, +which led straight to the stake.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Witches were easily caught by their confessions, +sometimes without the torture. Many of them were +half mad. They would own to turning themselves into +beasts. The Italian women often became cats, and +gliding under the doors, sucked, they said, the blood +of children. In the land of mighty forests, in Lorraine +and on the Jura, the women, of their own accord, +became wolves, and, if you could believe them, devoured +the passers by, even when nobody had passed by. +They were burnt. Some girls, who swore they had +given themselves to the Devil, were found to be +maidens still. They, too, were burnt. Several seemed +in a great hurry, as if they wanted to be burnt. Sometimes +it happened from raging madness, sometimes +from despair. An Englishwoman being led to the +stake, said to the people, “Do not blame my judges. +I wanted to put an end to my own self. My parents +kept aloof from me in their dread. My husband had +disowned me. I could not have lived on without disgrace. +I longed for death, and so I told a lie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>The first words of open toleration against silly +Sprenger, his frightful Handbook, and his Inquisitors, +were spoken by Molitor, a lawyer of Constance. He +made this sensible remark, that the confessions of +witches should not be taken seriously, because it was +the very Father of Lies who spoke by their mouths. +He laughed at the miracles of Satan, affirming them +to be all illusory. In an indirect way, such jesters +as Hutten and Erasmus dealt violent blows at the +Inquisition, through their satires on the Dominican +idiots. Cardan<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> said, straightforwardly, “In order +to obtain forfeit property, the same persons acted as +accusers and judges, and invented a thousand stories +in proof.”</p> + +<p>That apostle of toleration, Chatillon, who maintained +against Catholics and Protestants both, that +heretics should not be burnt, though he said nothing +about wizards, put men of sense in a better way. +Agrippa,<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> Lavatier, above all, Wyer<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a>] the illustrious +physician of Clèves, rightly said that if those wretched +witches were the Devil’s plaything, we must lay the +blame on the Devil, not on them; must cure, instead +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>of burning them. Some physicians of Paris soon +pushed incredulity so far as to maintain that the +possessed and the witches were simply knaves. This +was going too far. Most of them were sufferers under +the sway of an illusion.</p> + +<p>The dark reign of Henry II. and Diana of Poitiers +ends the season of toleration. Under Diana, they burn +heretics and wizards again. On the other hand, Catherine +of Medici, surrounded as she was by astrologers +and magicians, would have protected the latter. Their +numbers increased amain. The wizard Trois-Echelles, +who was tried in the reign of Charles IX., reckons +them at a hundred thousand, declaring all France to be +one Witch.</p> + +<p>Agrippa and others affirm, that all science is contained +in magic. In white magic undoubtedly. But +the fears of fools and their fanatic rage, put little +difference between them. In spite of Wyer, in spite +of those true philosophers, Light and Toleration, a +strong reaction towards darkness set in from a quarter +whence it was least expected. Our magistrates, who for +nearly a century, had shown themselves enlightened +and fair-dealing, now threw themselves into the +Spanish Catholicon<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> and the fury of the Leaguists,<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> +until they waxed more priest-like than the priests +themselves. While scouting the Inquisition from +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>France, they matched, and well-nigh eclipsed it by +their own deeds: the Parliament of Toulouse alone +sending four hundred human bodies at one time to the +stake. Think of the horror, the black smoke of all +that flesh, of the frightful melting and bubbling of the +fat amidst those piercing shrieks and yells! So +accursed, so sickening a sight had not been seen, since +the Albigenses were broiled and roasted.</p> + +<p>But this is all too little for Bodin, lawyer of Angers, +and a violent adversary to Wyer. He begins by saying +that the wizards in Europe are numerous enough to +match Xerxes’ army of eighteen hundred thousand +men. Then, like Caligula, he utters a prayer, that +these two millions might be gathered together, so as +he, Bodin, could sentence and burn them all at one +stroke.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The new rivalry makes matters worse. The gentry +of the Law begin to say that the priest, being too +often connected with the wizard, is no longer a safe +judge. In fact, for a moment, the lawyers seem to be +yet more trustworthy. In Spain, the Jesuit pleader, +Del Rio; in Lorraine, Remy (1596); Boguet (1602) on +the Jura; Leloyer (1605) in Anjou; are all matchless +persecutors, who would have made Torquemada<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> himself +die of envy.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> +<p>In Lorraine there seemed to be quite a dreadful +plague of wizards and visionaries. Driven to despair +by the constant passing of troops and brigands, the +multitude prayed to the Devil only. They were drawn +on by the wizards. A number of villagers, frightened +by a twofold dread of wizards on the one hand, and +judges on the other, longed to leave their homes and +flee elsewhither, if Remy, Judge of Nancy, may be +believed. In the work he dedicated (1596) to the +Cardinal of Lorraine, he owns to having burnt eight +hundred witches, in sixteen years. “So well do I deal +out judgements,” he says, “that last year sixteen +slew themselves to avoid passing through my hands.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The priests felt humbled. Could they have done +better than the laity? Nay, even the monkish lords of +Saint Claude asked for a layman, honest Boguet, to sit +in judgment on their own people, who were much +given to witchcraft. In that sorry Jura, a poor land +of firs and scanty pasturage, the serf in his despair +yielded himself to the Devil. They all worshipped the +Black Cat.</p> + +<p>Boguet’s book had immense weight. This Golden +Book, by the petty judge of Saint Claude, was +studied as a handbook by the worshipful members of +Parliament. In truth, Boguet is a thorough lawyer, +is even scrupulous in his own way. He finds fault<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +with the treachery shown in these prosecutions; will +not hear of barristers betraying their clients, of judges +promising pardon only to ensure the death of the +accused. He finds fault with the very doubtful tests to +which the witches were still exposed. “Torture,” +he says, “is needless: it never makes them yield.” +Moreover, he is humane enough to have them strangled +before throwing them to the flames, always except the +werewolves, “whom you must take care to burn alive.” +He cannot believe that Satan would make a compact +with children: “Satan is too sharp; knows too well +that, under fourteen years, any bargain made with +a minor, is annulled by default of years and due discretion.” +Then the children are saved? Not at all; +for he contradicts himself, and holds, moreover, that +such a leprosy cannot be purged away without burning +everything, even to the cradles. Had he lived, he would +have come to that. He made the country a desert: +never was there a judge who destroyed people with so +fine a conscience.</p> + +<p>But it is to the Parliament of Bourdeaux that the +grand hurrah for lay jurisdiction is sent up in Lancre’s +book on <i>The Fickleness of Demons</i>. The author, a +man of some sense, a counsellor in this same Parliament, +tells with a triumphant air of his fight with the +Devil in the Basque country, where, in less than three +months, he got rid of I know not how many witches, +and, better still, of three priests. He looks compassionately<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +on the Spanish Inquisition, which at Logroño, +not far off, on the borders of Navarre and Castille, +dragged on a trial for two years, ending in the poorest +way by a small <i>auto-da-fé</i>, and the release of a whole +crowd of women.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> For this and other facts regarding Germany, see Soldan.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> A famous Italian physician, who lived through the greater +part of the sixteenth century.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> Cornelius Agrippa, of Cologne, born in 1486, sometime +Secretary of the Emperor Maximilian, and author of two works +famous in their day, <i>Vanity of the Sciences</i>, and <i>Occult Philosophy</i>.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> A friend of Sir Philip Sydney, who sent for him when +dying.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> Catholicon, or purgative panacea: <i>i. e.</i> the Inquisition.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> The wars of the Catholic League against Henry of Navarre +began in 1576.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> The infamous Spanish Inquisitor, who died at the close of +the fifteenth century, after sixteen years of untold atrocities +against the heretics of Spain.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_IV_2" id="CHAPTER_IV_2"></a>CHAPTER IV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE WITCHES OF THE BASQUE COUNTRY: 1609.<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a></h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">That</span> strong-handed execution of the priests shows +M. Lancre to have been a man of independent spirit. +In politics he is the same. In his book on <i>The Prince</i> +(1617), he openly declares “the law to be above the +King.”</p> + +<p>Never was the Basque character better drawn than +in his book on <i>The Fickleness of Demons</i>. In +France, as in Spain, the Basque people had privileges +which almost made them a republic. On our side they +owed the King no service but that of arms: at the first +beat of drum they were bound to gather two thousand +armed men commanded by Basque captains. They +were not oppressed by their clergy, who seldom prosecuted +wizards, being wizards themselves. The priests +danced, wore swords, and took their mistresses to the +Witches’ Sabbath. These mistresses acted as their sextonesses +or <i>bénédictes</i>, to keep the churches in order. +The parson quarrelled with nobody, offered the White +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>Mass to God by day, the Black by night to the Devil, +and sometimes, according to Lancre, in the same +church.</p> + +<p>The Basques of Bayonne and St. Jean de Luz, a +race of men quaint, venturesome, and fabulously bold, +left many widows, from their habit of sailing out into +the roughest seas to harpoon whales. Leaving their +wives to God or the Devil, they threw themselves in +crowds into the Canadian settlements of Henry IV. +As for the children, these honest worthy sailors would +have thought about them more, if they had been clear +as to their parentage. But on their return home they +would reckon up the months of their absence, and +they never found the reckoning right.</p> + +<p>The women, bold, beautiful, imaginative, spent their +day seated on tombs in the grave-yards, talking of the +Sabbath, whither they expected to go in the evening. +This was their passion, their craze.</p> + +<p>They are born witches, daughters of the sea and of +enchantment. They sport among the billows, swimming +like fish. Their natural master is the Prince of +the Air, King of Winds and Dreams, the same who inspired +the Sibyl and breathed to her the future.</p> + +<p>The judge who burns them is charmed with them, +nevertheless. “When you see them pass,” says he, +“their hair flowing in the breeze about their shoulders, +they walk so trim, so bravely armed in that +fair head-dress, that the sun playing through it as +through a cloud, causes a mighty blaze which shoots<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +forth hot lightning-flashes. Hence the fascination of +their eyes, as dangerous in love as in witchcraft.”</p> + +<p>This amiable Bordeaux magistrate, the earliest +sample of those worldly judges who enlivened the +gown in the seventeenth century, plays the lute between +whiles, and even makes the witches dance before +sending them to the stake. And he writes well, far +more clearly than anyone else. But for all that, one +discovers in his work a new source of obscurity, inherent +to those times. The witches being too numerous +for the judge to burn them all, the most of them +have a shrewd idea that he will show some indulgence +to those who enter deepest into his thoughts and +passions! What passions? you ask. First, his love of +the frightfully marvellous, a passion common enough; +the delight of feeling afraid; and also, if it must be +said, the enjoyment of unseemly pleasures. Add to +these a touch of vanity: the more dreadful and enraged +those clever women show the Devil to be, the greater +the pride taken by the judge in subduing so mighty +an adversary. He arrays himself as it were in his +victory, enthrones himself in his foolishness, triumphs +in his senseless twaddling.</p> + +<p>The prettiest thing of this kind is the report of the +procedure in the Spanish <i>auto-da-fé</i> of Logroño, as +furnished to us by Llorente. Lancre, while quoting +him jealously and longing to disparage him, owns to +the surpassing charm of the festival, the splendour of +the sight, the moving power of the music. On one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +platform were the few condemned to the flames, on +another a crowd of reprieved criminals. The confession +of a repentant heroine who had dared all things, +is read aloud. Nothing could be wilder. At the +Sabbaths they ate children made into hash, and by way +of second course, the bodies of wizards disentombed. +Toads dance, and talk and complain lovingly of their +mistresses, getting them scolded by the Devil. The +latter politely escorts the witches home, lighting them +with the arm of a child who died unchristened, &c.</p> + +<p>Among our Basques witchcraft put on a less fantastic +guise. It seems that at this time the Sabbath was +only a grand feast to which all, the nobles included, +went for purposes of amusement. In the foremost line +would be seen persons in veils and masks, by some +supposed to be princes. “Once on a time,” says +Lancre, “none but idiots of the Landes appeared +there: now people of quality are seen to go.” To entertain +these local grandees, Satan sometimes created a +<i>Bishop of the Sabbath</i>. Such was the title he gave the +young lord Lancinena, with whom the Devil in person +was good enough to open the ball.</p> + +<p>So well supported, the witches held their sway, +wielding over the land an amazing terrorism of the +fancy. Numbers regarded themselves as victims, and +became in fact seriously ill. Many were stricken with +epilepsy, and barked like dogs. In one small town of +Acqs were counted as many as forty of these barkers. +The Witch had so fearful a hold upon them, that one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +lady being called as witness, began barking with uncontrollable +fury as the Witch, unawares to herself, +drew near.</p> + +<p>Those to whom was ascribed so terrible a power +lorded it everywhere. No one would dare shut his +door against them. One magistrate, the criminal +assessor of Bayonne, allowed the Sabbath to be held in +his own house. Urtubi, Lord of Saint Pé, was forced +to hold the festival in his castle. But his head was +shaken to that degree, that he imagined a witch was +sucking his blood. Emboldened, however, by his fear, +he, with another gentleman, repaired to Bordeaux, and +persuaded the Parliament to obtain from the King the +commissioning of two of its members, Espagnet and +Lancre, to try the wizards in the Basque country. This +commission, absolute and without appeal, worked with +unheard-of vigour; in four months, from May to +August, 1609, condemned sixty or eighty witches, and +examined five hundred more, who, though equally +marked with the sign of the Devil, figured in the +proceedings as witnesses only.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It was no safe matter for two men and a few +soldiers to carry on these trials amongst a violent, hot-headed +people, a multitude of wild and daring sailors’ +wives. Another source of danger was in the priests, +many of whom were wizards, needing to be tried by +the lay commissioners, despite the lively opposition of +the clergy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the judges appeared, many persons saved +themselves in the hills. Others boldly remained, +saying, it was the judges who would be burnt. So +little fear had the witches themselves, that before the +audience they would sink into the Sabbatic slumber, +and affirm on awaking that, even in court, they had +enjoyed the blessedness of Satan. Many said, they +only suffered from not being able to prove to him how +much they burned to suffer for his sake.</p> + +<p>Those who were questioned said they could not +speak. Satan rising into their throats blocked up their +gullets. Lancre, who wrote this narrative, though the +younger of the commissioners, was a man of the world. +The witches guessed that, with a man of his sort, there +were means of saving themselves. The league between +them was broken. A beggar-girl of seventeen, La +Murgui, or Margaret, who had found witchcraft +gainful, and, while herself almost a child, had brought +away children as offerings to the Devil, now betook +herself, with another girl, Lisalda, of the same age, to +denouncing all the rest. By word of mouth or in +writing she revealed all; with the liveliness, the noise, +the emphatic gestures of a Spaniard, entering truly or +falsely into a hundred impure details. She frightened, +amused, wheedled her judges, drawing them after her +like fools. To this corrupt, wanton, crazy girl, they +entrusted the right of searching about the bodies of +girls and boys, for the spot whereon Satan had set his +mark. This spot discovered itself by a certain numbness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +by the fact that you might stick needles into it +without causing pain. While a surgeon thus tormented +the elder ones, she took in hand the young, +who, though called as witnesses, might themselves be +accused, if she pronounced them to bear the mark. It +was a hateful thing to see this brazen-faced girl made +sole mistress of the fate of those wretched beings, commissioned +to prod them all over with needles, and able +at will to assign those bleeding bodies to death!</p> + +<p>She had gotten so mighty a sway over Lancre, as to +persuade him that, while he was sleeping in Saint Pé, +in his own house, guarded by his servants and his +escort, the Devil came by night into his room, to say +the Black Mass; while the witches getting inside his +very curtains, would have poisoned him, had he not +been well protected by God Himself. The Black Mass +was offered by the Lady of Lancinena, to whom Satan +made love in the very bedroom of the judge. We can +guess the likely aim of this wretched tale: the beggar +bore a grudge against the lady, who was good-looking, +and, but for this slander, might have come to bear +sway over the honest commissioner.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Lancre and his colleague taking fright, went forward; +never dared to draw back. They had their royal +gallows set up on the very spots where Satan had held +a Sabbath. People were alarmed thereat, deeming them +strongly backed by the arm of royalty. Impeachments +hailed about them. The women all came in one long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +string to accuse each other. Children were brought +forward to impeach their mothers. Lancre gravely +ruled that a child of eight was a good, sufficient, reputable +witness!</p> + +<p>M. d’Espagnet could give but a few moments to +this matter, having speedily to show himself in the +Estates of Béarn. Lancre being pushed unwittingly +forward by the violence of the younger informers, who +would have fallen into great danger, if they had failed +to get the old ones burnt, threw the reins on the neck +of the business, and hurried it on at full gallop. A +due amount of witches were condemned to the stake. +These, too, on finding themselves lost, ended by impeaching +others. When the first batch were brought +to the stake, a frightful scene took place. Executioner, +constables, and sergeants, all thought their last hour +was come. The crowd fell savagely upon the carts, +seeking to force the wretches to withdraw their accusations. +The men put daggers to their throats: their +furious companions were like to finish them with their +nails.</p> + +<p>Justice, however, got out of the scrape with some +credit; and then the commissioners went on to the +harder work of sentencing eight priests whom they had +taken up. The girls’ confessions had brought these +men to light. Lancre speaks of their morals like one +who knew all about them of himself. He rebukes +them, not only for their gay proceedings on Sabbath +nights, but, most of all, for their sextonesses and female<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +churchwardens. He even repeats certain tales about +the priests having sent off the husbands to Newfoundland, +and brought back Devils from Japan who gave +up the wives into their hands.</p> + +<p>The clergy were deeply stirred: the Bishop of +Bayonne would have made resistance. His courage +failing him, he appointed his vicar-general to act as +judge-assistant in his own absence. Luckily the Devil +gave the accused more help than their Bishop. He +opened all the doors, so that one morning five of the +eight were found missing. The commissioners lost no +time in burning the three still left to them.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>This happened about August, 1609. The Spanish +inquisitors at Logroño did not crown their proceedings +with an <i>auto-da-fé</i> before the 8th November, 1610. +They had met with far more trouble than our own +countrymen, owing to the frightful number of persons +accused. How burn a whole people? They sought +advice of the Pope, of the greatest doctors in Spain. +The word was given to draw back. Only the wilful +who persisted in denying their guilt, were to be burnt; +while they who pleaded guilty should be let go. The +same method had already been used to rescue priests +in trials for loose living. According to Llorente, it +was deemed sufficient, if they owned their crime, and +went through a slight penance.</p> + +<p>The Inquisition, so deadly to heretics, so cruel to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +Moors and Jews, was much less so to wizards. These, +being mostly shepherds, had no quarrel with the +Church. The rejoicings of goatherds were too low, if +not too brutish, to disturb the enemies of free thought.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Lancre wrote his book mainly to show how much +the justice of French Parliaments and laymen excelled +the justice of the priests. It is written lightly, merrily, +with flowing pen. It seems to express the joy felt by +one who has come creditably out of a great risk. It +is a gasconading, an over-boastful joy. He tells with +pride how, the Sabbath following the first execution of +the witches, their children went and wailed to Satan, +who replied that their mothers had not been burnt, +but were alive and happy. From the midst of the +crowd the children thought they heard their mothers’ +voices saying how thoroughly blest they were. Satan +was frightened nevertheless. He absented himself for +four Sabbaths, sending a small commonplace devil in +his stead. He did not show himself again till the +22nd July. When the wizards asked him the reason +of his absence, he said, “I have been away, pleading +your cause against <i>Little John</i>,” the name by which he +called Jesus. “I have won the suit, and they who are +still in prison will not be burnt.”</p> + +<p>The lie was given to the great liar. And the conquering +magistrate avers that, while the last witch was +burning, they saw a swarm of toads come out of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +head. The people fell on them with stones, so that +she was rather stoned than burnt. But for all their +attacks, they could not put an end to one black toad +which escaped from flames, sticks, and stones, to hide, +like the Devil’s imp it was, in some spot where it could +never be found.<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a></p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> The Basques of the Lower Pyrenees, the Aquitani of Cæsar, +belonged to the old Iberian race which peopled Western Europe +before the Celtic era.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> For a more detailed account of these Basque Witches, the +English reader may turn to Wright’s <i>Narratives of Sorcery and +Magic</i>. Bentley, 1851.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_V_2" id="CHAPTER_V_2"></a>CHAPTER V.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>SATAN TURNS PRIEST.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Whatever</span> semblance of Satanic fanaticism was still +preserved by the witches, it transpires from the narratives +of Lancre and other writers of the seventeenth +century, that the Sabbath then was mainly an affair of +money. They raised contributions almost by force, +charged something for right of entrance, and extracted +fines from those who stayed away. At Brussels and in +Picardy, they had a fixed scale of payment for rewarding +those who brought new members into the brotherhood.</p> + +<p>In the Basque country no mystery was kept up. +The gatherings there would amount to twelve thousand +persons, of all classes, rich or poor, priests and gentlemen. +Satan, himself a gentleman, wore a hat upon +his three horns, like a man of quality. Finding his +old seat, the druidic stone, too hard for him, he treats +himself to an easy well-gilt arm-chair. Shall we say +he is growing old? More nimble now than when he +was young, he frolics about, cuts capers, and leaps +from the bottom of a large pitcher. He goes through +the service head downwards, his feet in the air.</p> + +<p>He likes everything to go off quite respectably, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +spares no cost in his scenic arrangements. Besides +the customary flames, red, yellow, and blue, which +entertain the eye, as they show forth or hide the +flickering shadows, he charms the ear with strange +music, mainly of little bells that tickle the nerves with +something like the searching vibrations of musical-glasses. +To crown this splendour Satan bids them +bring out his silver plate. Even his toads give themselves +airs, become fashionable, and, like so many lordlings, +go about in green velvet.</p> + +<p>The general effect is that of a large fair, of a great +masked ball with very transparent disguises. Satan, +who understands his epoch, opens the ball with the +Bishop of the Sabbath; or the King and Queen: offices +devised in compliment to the great personages, wealthy +or well-born, who honour the meeting by their presence.</p> + +<p>Here may be seen no longer the gloomy feast of rebels, +the baleful orgie of serfs and boors, sharing by night +the sacrament of love, by day the sacrament of death. +The violent Sabbath-round is no more the one only +dance of the evening. Thereto are now added the +Moorish dances, lively or languishing, but always +amorous and obscene, in which girls dressed up for the +purpose, like <i>La Murgui</i> or <i>La Lisalda</i>, feigned and +showed off the most provoking characters. Among +the Basques these dances formed, we are told, the invincible +charm which sent the whole world of women, +wives, daughters, widows—the last in great numbers—headlong +into the Sabbath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>Without such amusements and the accompanying +banquet, one could hardly understand this general rage +for these Sabbaths. It is a kind of love without love; +a feast of barrenness undisguised. Boguet has settled +that point to a nicety. Differing in one passage, +where he dismisses the women as afraid of coming +to harm, Lancre is generally at one with Boguet, besides +being more sincere. The cruel and foul researches he +pursues on the very bodies of witches, show clearly +that he deemed them barren, and that a barren passive +love underlay the Sabbath itself.</p> + +<p>The feast ought therefore to have been a dismal one, +if the men had owned the smallest heart.</p> + +<p>The silly girls who went to dance and eat were victims +in every way. But they were resigned to everything +save the prospect of bearing children. They +bore indeed a far heavier load of wretchedness than the +men. Sprenger tells of the strange cry, which even in +his day burst forth in the hour of love, “May the +Devil have the fruits!” In his day, moreover, people +could live for two <i>sous</i> a day, while in the reign of +Henry IV., about 1600, they could barely live for +twenty. Through all that century the desire, the need +for barrenness grew more and more.</p> + +<p>Under this growing dread of love’s allurements the +Sabbath would have become quite dull and wearisome, +had not the conductresses cleverly made the most of its +comic side, enlivening it with farcical interludes. Thus, +the opening scene in which Satan, like the Priapus of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +olden times, bestowed his coarse endearments on the +Witch, was followed by another game, a kind of chilly +purification, which the sorceress underwent with much +grimacing, and a great show of unpleasant shuddering. +Then came another swinish farce, described by Lancre +and Boguet, in which some young and pretty wife +would take the Witch’s place as Queen of the Sabbath, +and submit her body to the vilest handling. A farce +not less repulsive was the “Black Sacrament,” performed +with a black radish, which Satan would cut +into little pieces and gravely swallow.</p> + +<p>The last act of all, according to Lancre, or at least +according to the two bold hussies who made him their +fool, was an astounding event to happen in such +crowded meetings. Since witchcraft had become +hereditary in whole families, there was no further need +of openly divulging the old incestuous ways of producing +witches, by the intercourse of a mother with +her son. Some sort of comedy perhaps was made out +of the old materials, in the shape of a grotesque Semiramis +or an imbecile Ninus. But the more serious +game, which doubtless really took place, attests the +existence of great profligacy in the upper walks of +society: it took the form of a most hateful and +barbarous hoax.</p> + +<p>Some rash husband would be tempted to the spot, +so fuddled with a baleful draught of datura or belladonna, +that, like one entranced, he came to lose all +power of speech and motion, retaining only his sight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +His wife, on the other hand, being so bewitched with +erotic drinks as to lose all sense of what she was doing, +would appear in a woeful state of nature, letting herself +be caressed under the indignant eyes of one who could +no longer help himself in the least. His manifest +despair, his bootless efforts to unshackle his tongue, +and set free his powerless limbs, his dumb rage and +wildly rolling eyes, inspired beholders with a cruel joy, +like that produced by some of Molière’s comedies. +The poor woman, stung with a real delight, yielded +herself up to the most shameful usage, of which on +the morrow neither herself nor her husband would +have the least remembrance. But those who had seen +or shared in the cruel farce, would they, too, fail to +remember?</p> + +<p>In such heinous outrages an aristocratic element +seems traceable. In no way do they remind us of the +old brotherhood of serfs, of the original Sabbath, which, +though ungodly, and foul enough, was still a free +straightforward matter, in which all was done readily +and without constraint.</p> + +<p>Clearly, Satan, depraved as he was from all time, +goes on spoiling more and more. A polite, a crafty +Satan is he now become, sweetly insipid, but all the +more faithless and unclean. It is a new, a strange +thing to see at the Sabbaths, his fellowship with priests. +Who is yon parson coming along with his <i>Bénédicte</i>, +his sextoness, he who jobs the things of the Church, +saying the White Mass of mornings, the Black at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +night? “Satan,” says Lancre, “persuades him to make +love to his daughters in the spirit, to debauch his fair +penitents.” Innocent magistrate! He pretends to be +unaware that for a century back the Devil had been +working away at the Church livings, like one who +knew his business! He had made himself father-confessor; +or, if you would rather have it so, the father-confessor +had turned Devil.</p> + +<p>The worthy M. de Lancre should have remembered +the trials that began in 1491, and helped perchance to +bring the Parliament of Paris into a tolerant frame of +mind. It gave up burning Satan, for it saw nothing +of him but a mask.</p> + +<p>A good many nuns were conquered by his new +device of borrowing the form of some favourite confessor. +Among them was Jane Pothierre, a holy +woman of Quesnoy, of the ripe age of forty-five, but +still, alas! all too impressible. She owns her passion +to her ghostly counsellor, who loth to listen to her, +flies to Falempin, some leagues off. The Devil, who +never sleeps, saw his advantage, and perceiving her, +says the annalist, “goaded by the thorns of Venus, he +slily took the shape of the aforesaid ‘Father,’ and +returning every night to the convent, was so successful +in befooling her, that she owned to having received +him 434 times.”<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> Great pity was felt for her on her +repenting; and she was speedily saved from all need +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>of blushing, being put into a fine walled-tomb built for +her in the Castle of Selles, where a few days after she +died the death of a good Catholic. Is it not a deeply +moving tale? But this is nothing to that fine business +of Gauffridi, which happened at Marseilles while +Lancre was drawing up deeds at Bayonne.</p> + +<p>The Parliament of Provence had no need to envy the +success attained by that of Bordeaux. The lay authorities +caught at the first occasion of a trial for witchcraft +to institute a reform in the morals of the clergy. +They sent forth a stern glance towards the close-shut +convent-world. A rare opportunity was offered by the +strange concurrence of many causes, by the fierce +jealousies, the revengeful longings which severed priest +from priest. But for those mad passions which ere +long began to burst forth at every moment, we should +have gained no insight into the real lot of that great +world of women who died in those gloomy dwellings; +not one word should we have heard of the things that +passed behind those parlour gratings, within those +mighty walls which only the confessor could overleap.</p> + +<p>The example of the Basque priest, whom Lancre +presents to us as worldly, trifling, going with his sword +upon him, and his deaconess by his side, to dance all +night at the Sabbath, was not one to inspire fear. It +was not such as he whom the Inquisition took such +pains to screen, or towards whom a body so stern for +others, proved itself, for once, indulgent. It is easy to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +see through all Lancre’s reticences the existence of +<i>something else</i>. And the States-General of 1614, +affirming that priests should not be tried by priests, +are also thinking of <i>something else</i>. This very mystery +it is which gets torn in twain by the Parliament +of Provence. The director of nuns gaining the +mastery over them and disposing of them, body and +soul, by means of witchcraft,—such is the fact which +comes forth from the trial of Gauffridi; at a later date +from the dreadful occurrences at Loudun and Louviers; +and also in the scenes described by Llorente, Ricci, and +several more.</p> + +<p>One common method was employed alike for reducing +the scandal, for misleading the public, for +hiding away the inner fact while it was busied with +the outer aspects of it. On the trial of a priestly +wizard, all was done to juggle away the priest by +bringing out the wizard; to impute everything to the +art of the magician, and put out of sight the natural +fascination wielded by the master of a troop of women +all abandoned to his charge.</p> + +<p>But there was no way of hushing up the first affair. +It had been noised abroad in all Provence, in a land +of light, where the sun pierces without any disguise. +The chief scene of it lay not only in Aix and Marseilles, +but also in Sainte-Baume, the famous centre of pilgrimage +for a crowd of curious people, who thronged +from all parts of France to be present at a deadly +duel between two bewitched nuns and their demons.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +The Dominicans, who attacked the affair as inquisitors, +committed themselves by the noise they made about it +through their partiality for one of these nuns. For +all the care Parliament presently took to hurry the +conclusion, these monks were exceedingly anxious to +excuse her and justify themselves. Hence the important +work of the monk Michaëlis, a mixture of truth +and fable; wherein he raises Gauffridi, the priest he had +sent to the flames, into the Prince of Magicians, not +only in France, but even in Spain, Germany, England, +Turkey, nay, in the whole inhabited earth.</p> + +<p>Gauffridi seems to have been a talented, agreeable +man. Born in the mountains of Provence, he had +travelled much in the Low Countries and the East. +He bore the highest character in Marseilles, where he +served as priest in the Church of Acoules. His bishop +made much of him: the most devout of the ladies +preferred him for their confessor. He had a wondrous +gift, they say, of endearing himself to all. Nevertheless, +he might have preserved his fair reputation had +not a noble lady of Provence, whom he had already +debauched, carried her blind, doting fondness to the +extent of entrusting him, perhaps for her religious +training, with the care of a charming child of twelve, +Madeline de la Palud, a girl of fair complexion and +gentle nature. Thereon, Gauffridi lost his wits, and +respected neither the youth nor the holy ignorance, the +utter unreserve of his pupil.</p> + +<p>As she grew older, however, the young highborn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +girl discovered her misfortune, in loving thus beneath +her, without hope of marriage. To keep his hold on +her, Gauffridi vowed he would wed her before the +Devil, if he might not wed her before God. He soothed +her pride by declaring that he was the Prince of Magicians, +and would make her his queen. He put on +her finger a silver ring, engraved with magic characters. +Did he take her to the Sabbath, or only make +her believe she had been there, by confusing her with +strange drinks and magnetic witcheries? Certain it +is, at least, that torn by two different beliefs, full of +uneasiness and fear, the girl thenceforth became mad +at certain times, and fell into fits of epilepsy. She +was afraid of being carried off alive by the Devil. She +durst no longer stay in her father’s house, and took +shelter in the Ursuline Convent at Marseilles.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> Massée, <i>Chronique du Monde</i>, 1540; and the Chroniclers +of Hainault, &c.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_VI_2" id="CHAPTER_VI_2"></a>CHAPTER VI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>GAUFFRIDI: 1610.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> order of Ursuline nuns seemed to be the calmest, +the least irrational of them all. They were not wholly +idle, but found some little employment in the bringing +up of young girls. The Catholic reaction which, aiming +at a higher flight of ecstasy than was possible +at that time even in Spain, had foolishly built a +number of convents, Carmelite, Bernardine, and Capuchin, +soon found itself at the end of its motive-powers. +The girls of whom people got rid by shutting +them up so strictly therein, died off immediately, and +their swift decease led to frightful statements of the +cruelty shown by their families. They perished, +indeed, not by their excessive penances, but rather of +heart-sickness and despair. After the first heats of +zeal were over, the dreadful disease of the cloister, +described by Cassieu as dating from the fifteenth +century, that crushing, sickening sadness which came +on of an afternoon—that tender listlessness which +plunged them into a state of unutterable exhaustion, +speedily wore them away. A few among them would +turn as if raging mad, choking, as it were, with the +exceeding strength of their blood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>A nun who hoped to die decently, without bequeathing +too large a share of remorse to her kindred, was +bound to live on about ten years, the mean term of life +in the cloister. She needed to be let gently down; +and men of sense and experience felt that her days +could only be prolonged by giving her something to do, +by leaving her not quite alone. St. Francis of Sales<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> +founded the Visitandine order, whose duty it was to +visit the sick in pairs. Cæsar of Bus and Romillion, +who had established the Teaching Priests in connection +with the Oratorians<a name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a>, afterwards ordained what might +be called the Teaching Sisters, the Ursulines, who +taught under the direction of the said priests. The +whole thing was under the supervision of the bishops, +and had very little of the monastic about it: the nuns +were not shut up again in cloisters. The Visitandines +went out; the Ursulines received, at any rate, their +pupils’ kinsfolk. Both of them had connection with +the world under guardians of good repute. The result +was a certain mediocrity. Though the Oratorians and +the Doctrinaries numbered among them persons of +high merit, the general character of the order was +uniformly moderate, commonplace; it took care never +to soar too high. Romillion, founder of the Ursulines, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>was an oldish man, a convert from Protestantism, who +had roamed everywhere, and come back again to his +starting point. He deemed his young Provencials +wise enough already, and counted on keeping his little +flock on the slender pasturage of an Oratorian faith, +at once monotonous and rational. And being such, it +came in time to be utterly wearisome. One fine morning +all had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Gauffridi, the mountaineer of Provence, the travelled +mystic, the man of strong feelings and restless mind, +had quite another effect upon them, when he came +thither as Madeline’s ghostly guide. They felt a certain +power, and by those who had already passed out of +their wild, amorous youth, were doubtless assured that +it was nothing less than a power begotten of the +Devil. All were seized with fear, and more than one +with love also. Their imaginations soared high; their +heads began to turn. Already six or seven may be seen +weeping, shrieking, yelling, fancying themselves caught +by the Devil. Had the Ursulines lived in cloisters, +within high walls, Gauffridi, being their only director, +might one way or another have made them all agree. +As in the cloisters of Quesnoy, in 1491, so here also it +might have happened that the Devil, who gladly takes +the form of one beloved, had under that of Gauffridi +made himself lover-general to the nuns. Or rather, +as in those Spanish cloisters named by Llorente, he +would have persuaded them that the priestly office +hallowed those to whom the priest made love, that to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +sin with him, was only to be sanctified. A notion, indeed, +ripe through France, and even in Paris, where the +mistresses of priests were called “the hallowed ones.”<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a></p> + +<p>Did Gauffridi, thus master of all, keep to Madeline +only? Did not the lover change into the libertine? +We know not. The sentence points to a nun who +never showed herself during the trial, but reappeared +at the end, as having given herself up to the Devil and +to him.</p> + +<p>The Ursuline convent was open to all visitors. The +nuns were under the charge of their Doctrinaries, men +of fair character, and jealous withal. The founder +himself was there, indignant, desperate. How woeful +a mishap for the rising order, just as it was thriving +amain and spreading all over France! After all its +pretensions to wisdom, calmness, good sense, thus +suddenly to go mad! Romillion would have hushed +up the matter if he could. He caused one of his +priests to exorcise the maidens. But the demons +laughed the exorciser to scorn. He who dwelt in the +fair damsel, even the noble demon Beelzebub, Spirit +of Pride, never deigned to unclose his teeth.</p> + +<p>Among the possessed was one sister from twenty to +twenty-five years old, who had been specially adopted +by Romillion; a girl of good culture, bred up in controversy; +a Protestant by birth, but left an orphan, to +fall into the hands of the Father, a convert like herself +from Protestantism. Her name, Louisa Capeau, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>sounds plebeian. She showed herself but too clearly +a girl of exceeding wit, and of a raging passion. Her +strength, moreover, was fearful to see. For three +months, in addition to the hellish storm within, she +carried on a desperate struggle, which would have +killed the strongest man in a week.</p> + +<p>She said she had three devils: Verrine, a good +Catholic devil, a volatile spirit of the air; Leviathan, a +wicked devil, an arguer and a Protestant; lastly, +another, acknowledged by her to be the spirit of +uncleanness. One other she forgot to name, the +demon of jealousy.</p> + +<p>She bore a savage hate to the little fair-faced damsel, +the favoured rival, the proud young woman of rank. +This latter, in one of her fits, had said that she went +to the Sabbath, where she was made queen, and received +homage, and gave herself up, but only to the prince—“What +prince?” To Louis Gauffridi, prince of magicians.</p> + +<p>Pierced by this revelation as by a dagger, Louisa +was too wild to doubt its truth. Mad herself, she +believed the mad woman’s story in order to ruin her. +Her own devil was backed by all the jealous demons. +The women all exclaimed that Gauffridi was the very +king of wizards. The report spread everywhere, that +a great prize had been taken, a priest-king of magicians, +even the prince of universal magic. Such was +the dreadful diadem of steel and flame which these +feminine demons drove into his brow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> + +<p>Everyone lost his head, even to old Romillion himself. +Whether from hatred of Gauffridi, or fear of the +Inquisition, he took the matter out of the bishop’s +hands, and brought his two bewitched ones, Louisa and +Madeline, to the Convent of Sainte-Baume, whose prior +was the Dominican Michaëlis, papal inquisitor in the +Pope’s domain of Avignon, and, as he himself pretended, +over all Provence. The great point was to get +them exorcised. But as the two women were obliged +to accuse Gauffridi, the business ended in making him +fall into the hands of the Inquisition.</p> + +<p>Michaëlis had to preach on Advent Sunday at Aix, +before the Parliament. He felt how much so striking +a drama would exalt him. He grasped at it with all +the eagerness of a barrister in a Criminal Court, when +a very dramatic murder, or a curious case of adultery +comes before him.</p> + +<p>The right thing in matters of this sort was, to spin +out the play through Advent, Christmas, Lent, and +burn no one before the Holy Week, the vigil, as it +were, of the great day of Easter. Michaëlis kept +himself for the last act, entrusting the bulk of the +business to a Flemish Dominican in his service, Doctor +Dompt, from Louvain, who had already exorcised, was +well-skilled in fooleries of that nature.</p> + +<p>The best thing the Fleming could do, was to do +nothing. In Louisa, he found a terrible helpmate, +with thrice as much zeal in her as the Inquisition +itself, unquenchable in her rage, of a burning eloquence,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +whimsical, and sometimes very odd, but always +raising a shudder; a very torch of Hell.</p> + +<p>The matter was reduced to a public duel between the +two devils, Louisa and Madeline.</p> + +<p>Some simple folk who came thither on a pilgrimage +to Sainte-Baume, a worthy goldsmith, for instance, +and a draper, both from Troyes, in Champagne, were +charmed to see Louisa’s devil deal such cruel blows at +the other demons, and give so sound a thrashing to the +magicians. They wept for joy, and went away thanking +God.</p> + +<p>It is a terrible sight, however, even in the dull wording +of the Fleming’s official statement, to look upon +this unequal strife; to watch the elder woman, the +strong and sturdy Provencial, come of a race hard as +the flints of its native Crau, as day after day she stones, +knocks down, and crushes her young and almost +childish victim, who, wasted with love and shame, has +already been fearfully punished by her own distemper, +her attacks of epilepsy.</p> + +<p>The Fleming’s volume, which, with the additions +made by Michaëlis, reaches to four hundred pages in +all, is one condensed epitome of the invectives, threats, +and insults spewed forth by this young woman in five +months; interspersed with sermons also, for she used +to preach on every subject, on the sacraments, on the +next coming of Antichrist, on the frailty of women, +and so forth. Thence, on the mention of her devils, +she fell into the old rage, and renewed twice a-day,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +the execution of the poor little girl; never taking +breath, never for one minute staying the frightful +torrent, until at least the other in her wild distraction, +“with one foot in hell”—to use her own words—should +have fallen into a convulsive fit, and begun +beating the flags with her knees, her body, her swooning +head.</p> + +<p>It must be acknowledged that Louisa herself is a +trifle mad: no amount of mere knavishness would +have enabled her to maintain so long a wager. But +her jealousy points with frightful clearness to every +opening by which she may prick or rend the sufferer’s +heart.</p> + +<p>Everything gets turned upside down. This Louisa, +possessed of the Devil, takes the sacrament whenever +she pleases. She scolds people of the highest +authority. The venerable Catherine of France, the +oldest of the Ursulines, came to see the wonder, asked +her questions, and at the very outset caught her telling +a flagrant and stupid falsehood. The impudent woman +got out of the mess by saying in the name of her evil +spirit, “The Devil is the Father of Lies.”</p> + +<p>A sensible Minorite who was present, took up the +word and said, “Now, thou liest.” Turning to the +exorcisers, he added, “Cannot ye make her hold her +tongue?” Then he quoted to them the story of one +Martha, a sham demoniac of Paris. By way of answer, +she was made to take the communion before him. The +Devil communicate, the Devil receive the body of God!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +The poor man was bewildered; humbled himself before +the Inquisition. They were too many for him, so +he said not another word.</p> + +<p>One of Louisa’s tricks was to frighten the bystanders, +by saying she could see wizards among them; +which made every one tremble for himself.</p> + +<p>Triumphant over Sainte-Baume, she hits out even +at Marseilles. Her Flemish exorciser, being reduced +to the strange part of secretary and bosom-counsellor +to the Devil, writes, under her dictation, five letters: +first, to the Capuchins of Marseilles, that they may +call upon Gauffridi to recant; second, to the same +Capuchins, that they may arrest Gauffridi, bind him +fast with a stole, and keep him prisoner in a house of +her describing; thirdly, several letters to the moderate +party, to Catherine of France, to the Doctrinal Priests, +who had declared against her; and then this lewd, +outrageous termagant ends with insulting her own +prioress: “When I left, you bade me be humble and +obedient. Now take back your own advice.”</p> + +<p>Her devil Verrine, spirit of air and wind, whispered +to her some trivial nonsense, words of senseless pride +which harmed friends and foes, and the Inquisition +itself. One day she took to laughing at Michaëlis, +who was shivering at Aix, preaching in a desert while +all the world was gone to hear strange things at Sainte-Baume. +“Michaëlis, you preach away, indeed, but +you get no further forward; while Louisa has reached, +has caught hold of the quintessence of all perfection.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>This savage joy was mainly caused by her having +quite conquered Madeline at last. One word had done +more for her than a hundred sermons: “Thou shalt +be burnt.” Thenceforth in her distraction the young +girl said whatever the other pleased, and upheld her +statements in the meanest way. Humbling herself +before them all, she besought forgiveness of her mother, +of her superior Romillion, of the bystanders, of Louisa. +According to the latter, the frightened girl took her +aside, and begged her to be merciful, not to chasten +her too much.</p> + +<p>The other woman, tender as a rock and merciful as +a hidden reef, felt that Madeline was now hers, to do +whatever she might choose. She caught her, folded +her round, and bedazed her out of what little spirit +she had left. It was a second enchantment; but all +unlike that by Gauffridi, a <i>possession</i> by means of +terror. The poor downtrodden wretch, moving under +rod and scourge, was pushed onward in a path of exquisite +suffering which led her to accuse and murder +the man she loved still.</p> + +<p>Had Madeline stood out, Gauffridi would have +escaped, for every one was against Louisa. Michaëlis +himself at Aix, eclipsed by her as a preacher, treated +by her with so much coolness, would have stopped the +whole business rather than leave the honour of it in +her hands.</p> + +<p>Marseilles supported Gauffridi, being fearful of seeing +the Inquisition of Avignon pushed into her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +neighbourhood, and one of her own children carried +off from her threshold. The Bishop and Chapter +were specially eager to defend their priest, maintaining +that the whole affair sprang from nothing but a rivalry +between confessors, nothing but the hatred commonly +shown by monks towards secular priests.</p> + +<p>The Doctrinaries would have quashed the matter. +They were sore troubled by the noise it made. Some +of them in their annoyance were ready to give up +everything and forsake their house.</p> + +<p>The ladies were very wroth, especially Madame +Libertat, the lady of the Royalist leader who had given +Marseilles up to the King.</p> + +<p>The Capuchins whom Louisa had so haughtily commanded +to seize on Gauffridi, were, like all other of +the Franciscan orders, enemies of the Dominicans. +They were jealous of the prominence gained for these +latter by their demoniac friend. Their wandering life, +moreover, by throwing them into continual contact +with the women, brought them a good deal of moral +business. They had no wish to see too close a scrutiny +made into the lives of clergymen; and so they also +took the side of Gauffridi. Demoniacs were not so +scarce, but that one was easily found and brought +forward at the first summons. Her devil, obedient to +the rope-girdle of St. Francis, gainsaid everything said +by the Dominicans’ devil: it averred—and the words +were straightway written down—that “Gauffridi was +no magician at all, and could not therefore be arrested.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>They were not prepared for this at Sainte-Baume. +Louisa seemed confounded. She could only manage +to say that apparently the Capuchins had not made +their devil swear to tell the truth: a sorry reply, +backed up, however, by the trembling Madeline, who, +like a beaten hound that fears yet another beating, was +ready for anything, ready even to bite and tear. +Through her it was that Louisa at such a crisis inflicted +an awful bite.</p> + +<p>She herself merely said that the Bishop was offending +God unawares. She clamoured against “the +wizards of Marseilles” without naming any one. But +the cruel, the deadly word was spoken at her command +by Madeline. A woman who had lost her child two +years before, was pointed out by her as having throttled +it. Afraid of being tortured, she fled or hid herself. +Her husband, her father, went weeping to Sainte-Baume, +hoping of course to soften the inquisitors. But +Madeline durst not unsay her words; so she renewed +the charge.</p> + +<p>No one now could feel safe. As soon as the Devil +came to be accounted God’s avenger, from the moment +that people under his dictation began writing the +names of those who should pass through the fire, every +one had before him, day and night, the hideous nightmare +of the stake.</p> + +<p>To withstand these bold attempts of the Papal Inquisition, +Marseilles ought to have been backed up by +the Parliament of Aix. Unluckily she knew herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +to be little liked at Aix. That small official town of +magistrates and nobles was always jealous of the wealth +and splendour of Marseilles, the Queen of the South. +On the other hand, the great opponent of Marseilles, +the Papal Inquisitor, forestalled Gauffridi’s appeal to +the Parliament by carrying his own suit thither first. +This was a body of utter fanatics, headed by some heavy +nobles, whose wealth had been greatly increased in a +former century by the massacre of the Vaudois. As +lay judges, too, they were charmed to see a Papal Inquisitor +set the precedent of acknowledging that, in a +matter touching a priest, in a case of witchcraft, the +Inquisition could not go beyond the preliminary inquiry. +It was just as though the inquisitors had formally +laid aside their old pretensions. The people of +Aix, like those of Bordeaux before them, were also +bitten by the flattering thought, that these lay-folk +had been set up by the Church herself as censors and +reformers of the priestly morals.</p> + +<p>In a business where all would needs be strange and +miraculous, not least among those marvels was it to +see so raging a demon grow all at once so fair-spoken +towards the Parliament, so politic and fine-mannered. +Louisa charmed the Royalists by her praises of the late +King. Henry IV.—who would have thought it?—was +canonized by the Devil. One morning, without +any invitation, he broke forth into praises of “that +pious and saintly King who had just gone up to +heaven.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>Such an agreement between two old enemies, the +Parliament and the Inquisition, which latter was +thenceforth sure of the secular arm, its soldiers, and +executioner; this and the sending of a commission to +Sainte-Baume to examine the possessed, take down +their statements, hear their charges, and impannel a +jury, made up a frightful business indeed. Louisa +openly pointed out the Capuchins, Gauffridi’s champions, +and proclaimed “their coming punishment +<i>temporally</i>” in their bodies, and in their flesh.</p> + +<p>The poor Fathers were sorely bruised. Their devil +would not whisper one word. They went to find the +Bishop, and told him that indeed they might not +refuse to bring Gauffridi forward at Sainte-Baume, in +obedience to the secular power; but afterwards the +Bishop and Chapter could claim him back, and replace +him under the shelter of episcopal justice.</p> + +<p>Doubtless they had also reckoned on the agitation +that would be shown by the two young women at the +sight of one they loved; on the extent to which even +the terrible Louisa might be shaken by the reproaches +of her own heart.</p> + +<p>That heart indeed woke up at the guilty one’s approach: +for one moment the furious woman seemed to +grow tender. I know nothing more fiery than her +prayer for God to save the man she has driven to +death: “Great God, I offer thee all the sacrifices that +have been offered since the world began, that will be +offered until it ends. All, all, for Lewis. I offer thee<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +all the tears of every saint, all the transports of every +angel. All, all, for Lewis. Oh, that there were yet +more souls to reckon up, that so the oblation might +be all the greater! It should be all for Lewis. O +God, the Father of Heaven, have pity on Lewis! O +God the Son, Redeemer of the world, have pity on +Lewis!” &c.</p> + +<p>Bootless pity! baneful as well as bootless! Her +real desire was that the accused <i>should not harden his +heart</i>, should plead guilty. In that case by our laws +he would most assuredly be burnt.</p> + +<p>She herself, in short, was worn out, unable to do +anything more. The inquisitor Michaëlis was so +humbled by a victory he could not have gained without +her, so wroth with the Flemish exorciser who had +become her obedient follower, and let her see into all +the hidden springs of the tragedy, that he came simply +to crush Louisa, and save Madeline by substituting +the one for the other, if he could, in this popular +drama. This move of his implies some skill, and +a knowing eye for scenery. The winter and the +Advent season had been wholly taken up with the acting +of that awful sibyl, that raging bacchante. In +the milder days of a Provencial spring, in the season +of Lent, he would bring upon the scene a more moving +personage, a demon all womanly, dwelling in a sick +child, in a fair-haired frightened girl. The nobles and +the Parliament of Provence would feel an interest in a +little lady who belonged to an eminent house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>Far from listening to his Flemish agent, Louisa’s +follower, Michaëlis shut the door upon him when he +sought to enter the select council of Parliament-men. +A Capuchin who also came, on the first words spoken +by Louisa, cried out, “Silence, accursed devil!”</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Gauffridi had arrived at Sainte-Baume, +where he cut a sorry figure. A man of sense, but +weak and blameworthy, he foreboded but too truly how +that kind of popular tragedy would end; and in +coming to a strait so dreadful, he saw himself forsaken +and betrayed by the child he loved. He now +entirely forsook himself. When he was confronted +with Louisa, she seemed to him like a judge, like one +of those cruel and subtle schoolmen who judged the +causes of the Church. To all her questions concerning +doctrine, he only answered <i>yes</i>, assenting even to +points most open to dispute; as, for instance, to the +assumption “that the Devil in a court of justice might +be believed on his word and his oath.”</p> + +<p>This lasted only a week, from the 1st to the 8th +January. The clergy of Marseilles demanded Gauffridi +back. His friends, the Capuchins, declared that they +had found no signs of magic in his room. Four canons +of Marseilles came with authority to take him, and +carried him away home.</p> + +<p>If Gauffridi had fallen very low, his adversaries had +not risen much. Even the two inquisitors, Michaëlis +and the Fleming, were in shameful variance with each +other. The partiality of the former for Madeline, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +the latter for Louisa, went beyond mere words, leading +them into opposite lines of action. That chaos of +accusations, sermons, revelations, which the Devil had +dictated by the mouth of Louisa, the Fleming who +wrote it down maintained to be the very word of God, +and expressed his fear that somebody might tamper +with the same. He owned to a great mistrust of his +chief, Michaëlis, who, he was sore afraid, would so +amend the papers in behalf of Madeline, as to ensure +the ruin of Louisa. To guard them to the best of his +power, he shut himself up in his room and underwent +a regular siege. Michaëlis, with the Parliament-men +on his side, could only get at the manuscript by using +the King’s name and breaking the door open.</p> + +<p>Louisa, afraid of nothing, sought to array the Pope +against the King. The Fleming carried an appeal to +the legate at Avignon, against his chief, Michaëlis. +But the Papal Court had a prudent fear of causing +scandal by letting one inquisitor accuse another. Lacking +its support, the Fleming had no resource but to +submit. To keep him quiet Michaëlis gave him back +his papers.</p> + +<p>Those of Michaëlis, forming a second report, dull +and nowise comparable with the former, are full of +nought but Madeline. They played music to try and +soothe her: care was taken to note down when she ate, +and when she did not eat. Too much time indeed was +taken up about her, often in a way but little edifying. +Strange questions are put to her touching the Magician,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +and what parts of his body might bear the mark +of the Devil. She herself was examined. This would +have to be done at Aix by surgeons and doctors; but +meanwhile, in the height of his zeal, Michaëlis examined +her at Sainte-Baume, and put down the issue +of his researches. No matron was called to see her. The +judges, lay and monkish, agreeing in this one matter, +and having no fear of each other’s overlooking, seem +to have quietly passed over this contempt of outward +forms.</p> + +<p>In Louisa, however, they found a judge. The bold +woman branded the indecency as with hot iron. “They +who were swallowed up by the Flood never behaved so +ill!... Even of thee, O Sodom, the like was never +said!”</p> + +<p>She also averred that Madeline was given over to +uncleanness. This was the saddest thing of all. In +her blind joy at being alive, at escaping the flames, or +else from some cloudy notion that it was her turn now +to act upon her judges, the poor simpleton would sing +and dance at times with a shameful freedom, in a coarse, +indecent way. The old Doctrinal father, Romillion, +blushed for his Ursuline. Shocked to remark the admiration +of the men for her long hair, he said that such +a vanity must be taken from her, be cut away.</p> + +<p>In her better moments she was gentle and obedient.</p> + +<p>They would have liked to make her a second Louisa; +but her devils were vain and amorous; not, like the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +other’s, eloquent and raging. When they wanted her +to preach, she could only utter sorry things. Michaëlis +was fain to play out the piece by himself. As chief +inquisitor, and bound greatly to outdo his Flemish +underling, he avowed that he had already drawn out of +this small body a host of six thousand, six hundred, +and sixty devils: only a hundred still remained. By +way of convincing the public, he made her throw up +the charm or spell which by his account she had swallowed, +and he drew it from her mouth in some slimy +matter. Who could hold out any longer? Assurance +itself stood stupefied and convinced.</p> + +<p>Madeline was in a fair way to escape: the only +hindrance was herself. Every moment she would be +saying something rash, something to arouse the misgivings +of her judges, and urge them beyond all +patience. She declared that everything to her recalled +Gauffridi, that everywhere she saw him present. Nor +would she hide from them her dreams of love. “To-night,” +she said, “I was at the Sabbath. To my statue +all covered with gilding the magicians offered their +homage. Each of them, in honour thereof, made oblation +of some blood drawn from his hands with a lancet. +<i>He</i> was also there, on his knees, a rope round his neck, +beseeching me to go back and betray him not. I held +out. Then said he, ‘Is there anyone here who would +die for her?’ ‘I,’ said a young man, and he was +sacrificed by the magician.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>At another time she saw him, and he asked her only +for one of her fine fair locks. “And when I refused, +he said, ‘Only the half of one hair.’”</p> + +<p>She swore, however, that she never yielded. But +one day, the door happening to be open, behold our +convert running off at the top of her speed to rejoin +Gauffridi!</p> + +<p>They took her again, at least her body. But her +soul? Michaëlis knew not how to catch that again. +Luckily he caught sight of her magic ring, which was +taken off, cut up, destroyed, and thrown into the fire. +Fancying, moreover, that this perverseness on the part +of one so gentle was due to unseen wizards who found +their way into her room, he set there a very substantial +man at arms, with a sword to slash about him everywhere, +and cut the invisible imps into pieces.</p> + +<p>But the best physic for the conversion of Madeline +was the death of Gauffridi. On the 5th February, the +inquisitor went to Aix for his Lent preachings, saw the +judges, and stirred them up. The Parliament, swiftly +yielding to such a pressure, sent off to Marseilles an +order to seize the rash man, who, finding himself so +well backed by Bishop, Chapter, Capuchins, and all the +world, had fancied they would never dare so far.</p> + +<p>Madeline from one quarter, Gauffridi from another, +arrived at Aix. She was so disturbed that they were +forced to bind her. Her disorder was frightful, and all +were in great perplexity what to do. They bethought +them at least of one bold way of dealing with this sick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +child; one of those fearful tricks that throw a woman +into fits, and sometimes kill her outright. A vicar-general +of the archbishopric said that the palace contained +a dark narrow charnel-house, such as you may +see in the Escurial, and called in Spain a “rotting vat.”</p> + +<p>There, in olden days, old bones of unknown dead +were left to waste away. Into this tomb-like cave the +trembling girl was led. They exorcised her by putting +those chilly bones to her face. She did not die of +fright, but thenceforth gave herself up to their will and +pleasure; and so they got what they wanted, the death +of the conscience, the destruction of all that remained +to her of moral insight and free will.</p> + +<p>She became their pliant tool, ready to obey their +least desire, to flatter them, to try and guess beforehand +what would give them most pleasure. Huguenots were +brought before her: she called them names. Confronted +with Gauffridi, she told forth by heart her grievances +against him, better than the King’s own officers could +have done. This did not prevent her from squalling +violently, when she was brought to the church to excite +the people against Gauffridi, by making her devil blaspheme +in the magician’s name. Beelzebub speaking +through her said, “In the name of Gauffridi I abjure +God;” and again, at the lifting up of the Host, “Let +the blood of the just be upon me, in the name of +Gauffridi!”</p> + +<p>An awful fellowship indeed! This twofold devil +condemns one out of the other’s mouth; whatever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +Madeline says, is ascribed to Gauffridi. And the +scared crowd were impatient to behold the burning of +the dumb blasphemer, whose ungodliness so loudly +declared itself by the voice of the girl.</p> + +<p>The exorcisers then put to her this cruel question, +to which they themselves could have given the best +answer:—“Why, Beelzebub, do you speak so ill of +your great friend?” Her answer was frightful: “If +there be traitors among men, why not among demons +also? When I am with Gauffridi, I am his to do all +his will. But when you constrain me, I betray him +and turn him to scorn.”</p> + +<p>However, she could not keep up this hateful mockery. +Though the demon of fear and fawning seemed to +have gotten fast hold of her, there was room still for +despair. She could no longer take the slightest food; +and they who for five months had been killing her +with exorcisms and pretending to relieve her of six or +seven thousand devils, were fain to admit that she +longed only to die, and greedily sought after any means +of self-destruction. Courage alone was wanting to her. +Once she pricked herself with a lancet, but lacked the +spirit to persevere. Once she caught up a knife, and +when that was taken from her, tried to strangle herself. +She dug needles into her body, and then made +one last foolish effort to drive a long pin through her +ear into her head.</p> + +<p>What became of Gauffridi? The inquisitor, who +dwells so long on the two women, says almost nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +about him. He walks as it were over the fire. The +little he does say is very strange. He relates that +having bound Gauffridi’s eyes, they pricked him with +needles all over the body, to find out the callous places +where the Devil had made his mark. On the removal +of the bandage, he learned, to his horror and amazement, +that the needle had thrice been stuck into him +without his feeling it; so he was marked in three places +with the sign of Hell. And the inquisitor added, “If +we were in Avignon, this man should be burnt to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>He felt himself a lost man; and defended himself no +more. His only thought now was to see if he could +save his life through any of the Dominicans’ foes. He +wished, he said, to confess himself to the Oratorians. +But this new order, which might have been called the +right mean of Catholicism, was too cold and wary to +take up a matter already so hopeless and so far +advanced.</p> + +<p>Thereon he went back again to the Begging Friars, +confessing himself to the Capuchins, and acknowledging +all and more than all the truth, that he might +purchase life with dishonour. In Spain he would +assuredly have been enlarged, barring a term of +penance in some convent. But our Parliaments were +sterner: they felt bound to prove the greater purity of +the lay jurisdiction. The Capuchins, themselves a +little shaky in the matter of morals, were not the people +to draw the lightning down on their own body. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +surrounded Gauffridi, sheltered him, gave him comfort +day and night; but only in order that he might own +himself a magician, and so, because magic formed the +main head of his indictment, the seduction wrought +by a confessor to the great discredit of the clergy might +be left entirely in the background.</p> + +<p>So his friends the Capuchins, by dint of tender +caresses and urgent counsel, drew from him the fatal +confession which, by their showing, was to save his +soul, but which was very certain to hand his body over +to the stake.</p> + +<p>The man thus lost and done for, they made an end +with the girls whom it was not their part to burn. A +farcical scene took place. In a large gathering of the +clergy and the Parliament, Madeline was made to +appear, and, in words addressed to herself, her devil +Beelzebub was summoned to quit the place or else offer +some opposition. Not caring to do the latter, he went +off in disgrace.</p> + +<p>Then Louisa, with her demon Verrine, was made to +appear. But before they drove away a spirit so +friendly to the Church, the monks regaled the Parliamentaries, +who were new to such things, with the +clever management of this devil, making him perform +a curious pantomime. “How do the Seraphim, the +Cherubim, the Thrones, behave before God?” “A +hard matter this:” says Louisa, “they have no +bodies.” But on their repeating the command, she +made an effort to obey, imitating the flight of the one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +class, the fiery longing of the others; and ending with +the adoration, when she bowed herself before the +judges, falling prostrate with her head downwards. +Then was the far-famed Louisa, so proud and so untamable, +seen to abase herself, kissing the pavement, +and with outstretched arms laying all her length +thereon.</p> + +<p>It was a strange, frivolous, unseemly exhibition, by +which she was made to atone for her terrible success +among the people. Once more she won the assembly +by dealing a cruel dagger-stroke at Gauffridi, who +stood there strongly bound. “Where,” said they, “is +Beelzebub now, the devil who went out of Madeline?” +“I see him plainly at Gauffridi’s ear.”</p> + +<p>Have you had shame and horror enough? We +should like further to know what the poor wretch said, +when put to the torture. Both the ordinary and the +extraordinary forms were used upon him. His revelations +must undoubtedly have thrown light on the +curious history of the nunneries. Those tales the +Parliament stored up with greediness, as weapons that +might prove serviceable to itself; but it retained them +“under the seal of the Court.”</p> + +<p>The inquisitor Michaëlis, who was fiercely assailed +in public for an excess of animosity so closely resembling +jealousy, was summoned by his order to a meeting at +Paris, and never saw the execution of Gauffridi, who +was burnt alive four days afterwards, 30th April, +1611, at Aix.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> + +<p>The name of the Dominicans, damaged by this trial, +was not much exalted by another case of <i>possession</i> +got up at Beauvais in such a way as to ensure them +all the honours of a war, the account of which they +got printed in Paris. Louisa’s devil having been reproached +for not speaking Latin, the new demoniac, +Denise Lacaille, mingled a few words of it in her gibberish. +They made a plenty of noise about her, often +displayed her in the midst of a procession, and even +carried her from Beauvais to Our Lady of Liesse. But +the matter kept quite cool. This Picard pilgrimage +lacked the horror, the dramatic force of the affair at +Sainte-Baume. This Lacaille, for all her Latin, had +neither the burning eloquence, nor the mettle, nor the +fierce rage, that marked the woman of Provence. The +only end of all her proceedings was to amuse the +Huguenots.</p> + +<p>What became of the two rivals, Madeline and +Louisa? The former, or at least her shadow, was kept +on Papal ground, for fear of her being led to speak +about so mournful a business. She was never shown +in public, save in the character of a penitent. She +was taken out among the poor women to cut wood, +which was afterwards sold for alms; the parents, whom +she had brought to shame, having forsworn and forsaken +her.</p> + +<p>Louisa, for her part, had said during the trial: “I +shall make no boast about it. The trial over, I shall +soon be dead.” But this was not to be. Instead of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +dying, she went on killing others. The murdering +devil within her waxed stormier than ever. She set +about revealing to the inquisitors the names, both +Christian and surnames, of all whom she fancied to +have any dealings with magic; among others a poor +girl named Honoria, “blind of both eyes,” who was +burnt alive.</p> + +<p>“God grant,” says Father Michaëlis, in conclusion, +“that all this may redound to His own glory and to +that of His Church!”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> St. Francis of Sales, famous for his successful missions +among the Protestants, and Bishop of Geneva in his later years, +died in 1622.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> The Brethren of the Oratory, founded at Rome in 1564.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> Lestoile, edit. Michaud, p. 561.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_VII_2" id="CHAPTER_VII_2"></a>CHAPTER VII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE DEMONIACS OF LOUDUN—URBAN GRANDIER: +1632-1634.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">In</span> the <i>State Memoirs</i>, written by the famous +Father Joseph, and known to us by extracts only—the +work itself having, no doubt, been wisely suppressed +as too instructive—the good Father explained how, in +1633, he had the luck to discover a heresy, a huge +heresy, in which ever so many confessors and directors +were concerned. That excellent army of Church-constables, +those dogs of the Holy Troop, the Capuchins, +had, not only in the wildernesses, but even in the +populous parts of France—at Chartres, in Picardy, +everywhere—got scent of some dreadful game; the +<i>Alumbrados</i> namely, or Illuminate, of Spain, who +being sorely persecuted there, had fled for shelter into +France, where, in the world of women, especially among +the convents, they dropped the gentle poison which +was afterwards called by the name of Molinos.<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a></p> + +<p>The wonder was, that the matter had not been +sooner known. Having spread so far, it could not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>have been wholly hidden. The Capuchins swore that +in Picardy alone, where the girls are weak and warmer-blooded +than in the South, this amorously mystic folly +owned some sixty thousand professors. Did all the +clergy share in it—all the confessors and directors? +We must remember, that attached to the official directors +were a good many laymen, who glowed with +the same zeal for the souls of women. One of them, +who afterwards made some noise by his talent and +boldness, is the author of <i>Spiritual Delights</i>, Desmarets +of Saint Sorlin.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Without remembering the new state of things, we +should fail to understand the all-powerful attitude of +the director towards the nuns, of whom he was now +a hundred-fold more the master than he had been in +days of yore.</p> + +<p>The reforming movement of the Council of Trent, +for the better enclosing of monasteries, was not much +followed up in the reign of Henry IV., when the nuns +received company, gave balls, danced, and so forth. In +the reign, however, of Louis XIII., it began afresh +with greater earnestness. The Cardinal Rochefoucauld, +or rather the Jesuits who drew him on, insisted on a +great deal of outward decency. Shall we say, then, +that all entrance into the convents was forbidden? +One man only went in every day, not only into the +house, but also, if he chose, into each of the cells; a +fact made evident from several known cases, especially<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +that of David at Louviers. By this reform, this closing +system, the door was shut upon the world at large, +on all inconvenient rivals, while the director enjoyed +the sole command of his nuns, the special right of +private interviews with them.</p> + +<p>What would come of this? The speculative might +treat it as a problem; not so practical men or physicians. +The physician Wyer tells some plain stories +to show what did come of it from the sixteenth century +onwards. In his Fourth Book he quotes a number +of nuns who went mad for love. And in Book +III. he talks of an estimable Spanish priest who, going +by chance into a nunnery, came out mad, declaring +that the brides of Jesus were his also, brides of the +priest, who was a vicar of Jesus. He had masses said +in return for the favour which God had granted him in +this speedy marriage with a whole convent.</p> + +<p>If this was the result of one passing visit, we may +understand the plight of a director of nuns when he +was left alone with them, and could take advantage of +the new restrictions to spend the day among them, +listening hour by hour to the perilous secret of their +languishings and their weaknesses.</p> + +<p>In the plight of these girls the mere senses are not +all in all. Allowance must be made for their listlessness +of mind; for the absolute need of some change in +their way of life; of some dream or diversion to relieve +their lifelong monotony. Strange things are happening +constantly at this period. Travels, events in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +Indies, the discovery of a world, the invention of +printing: what romance there is everywhere! While +all this goes on without, putting men’s minds into a +flutter, how, think you, can those within bear up +against the oppressive sameness of monastic life—the +irksomeness of its lengthy services, seasoned by +nothing better than a sermon preached through the +nose?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The laity themselves, living amidst so many distractions, +desire, nay insist, that their confessors shall absolve +them for their acts of inconstancy. The priests, +on their side, are drawn or forced on, step by step. +There grows up a vast literature, at once various and +learned, of casuistry, of the art of allowing all things; +a progressive literature, in which the indulgence of to-night +seems to become the severity of the morrow.</p> + +<p>This casuistry was meant for the world; that mysticism +for the convent. The annihilation of the person +and the death of the will form the great mystic principle. +The true moral bearings of that principle are +well shown by Desmarets. “The devout,” he says, +“having offered up and annihilated their own selves, +exist no longer but in God. <i>Thenceforth they can do +no wrong.</i> The better part of them is so divine that it +no longer knows what the other is doing.”<a name="FNanchor_91_91" id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> +<p>It might have been thought that the zealous Joseph +who had raised so loud a cry of alarm against these +corrupt teachers, would have gone yet further; that a +grand searching inquiry would have taken place; that +the countless host whose number, in one province +only, were reckoned at sixty thousand, would be found +out and closely examined. But not so: they disappear, +and nothing more is known about them. A few, it is +said, were imprisoned; but trial there was none: only +a deep silence. To all appearance Richelieu cared but +little about fathoming the business. In his tenderness +for the Capuchins he was not so blind as to follow their +lead in a matter which would have thrown the supervision +of all confessors into their hands.</p> + +<p>As a rule, the monks had a jealous dislike of the +secular clergy. Entire masters of the Spanish women, +they were too dirty to be relished by those of France; +who preferred going to their own priests or to some +Jesuit confessor, an amphious creature, half monk, +half worldling. If Richelieu had once let loose the pack +of Capuchins, Recollects, Carmelites, Dominicans, &c., +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>who among the clergy would have been safe? What +director, what priest, however upright, but had used, +and used amiss, the gentle language of the Quietists +towards their penitents?</p> + +<p>Richelieu took care not to trouble the clergy, while +he was already bringing about the General Assembly +from which he was soon to ask a contribution towards +the war. One trial alone was granted the monks, the +trial of a vicar, but a vicar who dealt in magic; a +trial wherein matters were allowed, as in the case of +Gauffridi, to get so entangled, that no confessor, no +director, saw his own likeness there, but everyone in +full security could say, “This is not I.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Thanks to these strict precautions the Grandier +affair is involved in some obscurity.<a name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> Its historian, +the Capuchin Tranquille, proves convincingly that +Grandier was a wizard, and, still more, a devil; and on +the trial he is called, as Ashtaroth might have been +called, <i>Grandier of the Dominations</i>. On the other +hand, Ménage is ready to rank him with great men +accused of magic, with the martyrs of free thought.</p> + +<p>In order to see a little more clearly, we must not set +Grandier by himself; we must keep his place in the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>devilish trilogy of those times, in which he figured +only as a second act; we must explain him by the +first act, already shown to us in the dreadful business +of Sainte-Baume, and the death of Gauffridi; we must +explain him by the third act, by the affair at Louviers, +which copied Loudun, as Loudun had copied Sainte-Baume, +and which in its turn owned a Gauffridi and +an Urban Grandier.</p> + +<p>The three cases are one and selfsame. In each case +there is a libertine priest, in each a jealous monk, and +a frantic nun by whose mouth the Devil is made to +speak; and in all three the priest gets burnt at last.</p> + +<p>And here you may notice one source of light which +makes these matters clearer to our eyes than if we saw +them through the miry shades of a monastery in Spain +or Italy. In those lands of Southern laziness, the nuns +were astoundingly passive, enduring the life of the +seraglio and even worse.<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> Our French women, on the +contrary, gifted with a personality at once strong, +lively, and hard to please, were equally dreadful in +their jealousy and in their hate; and being devils indeed +without metaphor, were accordingly rash, blusterous, +and prompt to accuse. Their revelations were +very plain, so plain indeed at the last, that everyone +felt ashamed; and after thirty years and three special +cases, the whole thing, begun as it was through terror, +got fairly extinguished in its own dulness beneath +hisses of general disgust.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> +<p>It was not in Loudun, amidst crowds of Poitevins, +in the presence of so many scoffing Huguenots, in the +very town where they held their great national synods, +that one would have looked for an event so discreditable +to the Catholics. But these latter, living, as it were, in +a conquered country,<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a> in the old Protestant towns, +with the greatest freedom, and thinking, not without +cause, of the people they had often massacred and but +lately overcome, were not the persons to say a word +about it. Catholic Loudun, composed of magistrates, +priests, monks, a few nobles, and some workmen, +dwelled aloof from the rest, like a true conquering settlement. +This settlement, as one might easily guess, +was rent in twain by the rivalry of the priests and the +monks.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The monks, being numerous and proud, as men specially +sent forth to make converts, kept the pick of the +pavement against the Protestants, and were confessing +the Catholic ladies, when there arrived from Bordeaux +a young vicar, brought up by the Jesuits, a man of +letters, of pleasing manners, who wrote well and spoke +better. He made a noise in the pulpit, and ere long +in the world. By birth a townsman of Mantes, of a +wrangling turn, he was Southern by education, with all +the readiness of a Bordelais, boastful and frivolous as a +Gascon. He soon managed to set the whole town by +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>the ears, drawing the women to his side, while the +men were mostly against him. He became lofty, insolent, +unbearable, devoid of respect for everything. The +Carmelites he overwhelmed with jibes; he would rail +away from his pulpit against monks in general. They +choked with rage at his sermons. Proud and stately, +he went along the streets of Loudun like a Father of +the Church; but by night he would steal, with less of +bluster, down the byeways and through back-doors.</p> + +<p>They all surrendered themselves to his pleasure. +The wife of the Crown Counsel was aware of his +charms; still more so the daughter of the Public +Prosecutor, who had a child by him. This did not +satisfy him. Master of the ladies, this conqueror +pushed his advantage until he had gained the nuns.</p> + +<p>By that time the Ursulines abounded everywhere, +sisters devoted to education, feminine missionaries in a +Protestant land, who courted and pleased the mothers, +while they won over the little girls. The nuns of +Loudun formed a small convent of young ladies, poor +and well-born. The convent in itself was poor, the +nuns for whom it was founded, having been granted +nothing but their house, an old Huguenot college. +The prioress, a lady of good birth and high connections, +burned to exalt her nunnery, to enlarge it, make +it wealthier and wider known. Perhaps she would +have chosen Grandier, as being then the fashion, had she +not already gotten for her director a priest with very +different rootage in the country, a near kinsman of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +two chief magistrates. The Canon Mignon, as he was +called, held the prioress fast. These two were enraged +at learning through the confessional—the “Ladies +Superior” might confess their nuns—that the young +nuns dreamed of nothing but this Grandier, of whom +there was so much talk.</p> + +<p>Thereupon three parties, the threatened director, +the cheated husband, the outraged father, joined together +by a common jealousy, swore together the +destruction of Grandier. To ensure success, they only +needed to let him go on. He was ruining himself +quite fast enough. An incident that came to light +made noise enough almost to bring down the town.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The nuns placed in that old Huguenot mansion, +were far from easy in their minds. Their boarders, +children of the town, and perhaps also some of the +younger nuns, had amused themselves with frightening +the rest by playing at ghosts and apparitions. Little +enough of order was there among this throng of rich +spoilt girls. They would run about the passages at +night, until they frightened themselves. Some of +them were sick, or else sick at heart. But these fears +and fancies mingled with the gossip of the town, of +which they heard but too much during the day, until +the ghost by night took the form of Grandier himself. +Several said they saw him, felt him near them in the +night, and yielded unawares to his bold advances. +Was all this fancy, or the fun of novices? Had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +Grandier bribed the porteress or ventured to climb +the walls? This part of the business was never +cleared up.</p> + +<p>From that time the three felt sure of catching him. +And first, among the small folk under their protection, +they stirred up two good souls to declare that they +could no longer keep as vicar a profligate, a wizard, a +devil, a freethinker, who bent one knee in church +instead of two, who scoffed at rules and granted dispensations +contrary to the rights of the Bishop. A shrewd +accusation, which turned against him his natural defender, +the Bishop of Poitiers, and delivered him over +to the fury of the monks.</p> + +<p>To say truth, all this was planned with much skill. +Besides raising up two poor people as accusers, they +thought it advisable to have him cudgelled by a noble. +In those days of duelling a man who let himself be +cudgelled with impunity lost ground with the public, +and sank in the esteem of the women. Grandier deeply +felt the blow. Fond of making a noise in all cases, he +went to the King, threw himself on his knees, and besought +vengeance for the insult to his gown. From so +devout a king he might have gained it; but here there +chanced to be some persons who told the King that it +was all an affair of love, the fury of a betrayed husband +wreaking itself on his foe.</p> + +<p>At the spiritual court of Poitiers, Grandier was condemned +to do penance, to be banished from Loudun, +and disgraced as a priest. But the civil court took up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +the matter and found him innocent. He had still to +await the orders of him by whom Poitiers was spiritually +overruled, Sourdis, Archbishop of Bordeaux. +That warlike prelate, an admiral and brave sailor more +than a priest, shrugged his shoulders on hearing of +such peccadilloes. He acquitted the vicar, but at the +same time wisely recommended him to go and live +anywhere out of Loudun.</p> + +<p>This the proud man did not care to do. He wanted +to enjoy his triumph on the very field of battle, to +show off before the ladies. He came back to Loudun +in broad day, with mighty noise; the women all looking +out of window, as he went by with a laurel-branch +in his hand.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Not satisfied with that piece of folly, he began to +threaten, to demand reparation. Thus pushed and +imperilled in their turn, his enemies called to remembrance +the affair of Gauffridi, where the Devil, the +Father of Lies, was restored to his honours and accepted +in a court of justice as a right truthful witness, +worthy of belief on the side of the Church, worthy of +belief on the side of His Majesty’s servants. In despair +they invoked a devil and found one at their command. +He showed himself among the Ursulines.</p> + +<p>A dangerous thing; but then, how many were nearly +concerned in its success! The prioress saw her poor +humble convent suddenly attracting the gaze of the +Court, of the provinces, of all the world. The monks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +saw themselves victorious over their rivals the priests. +They pictured anew those popular battles waged +with the Devil in a former century, and often, as at +Soissons, before the church doors; the terror of the +people, and their joy at the triumph of the Good +Spirit; the confession drawn from the Devil touching +God’s presence in the Sacrament; and the humiliation +of the Huguenots at being refuted by the Demon himself.</p> + +<p>In these tragi-comedies the exorciser represented +God, or at any rate the Archangel, overthrowing the +dragon. He came down from the platform in utter +exhaustion, streaming with sweat, but victorious, to be +borne away in the arms of the crowd, amidst the +blessings of good women who shed tears of joy the +while.</p> + +<p>Therefore it was that in these trials a dash of witchcraft +was always needful. The Devil alone roused the +interest of the vulgar. They could not always see +him coming out of a body in the shape of a black +toad, as at Bordeaux in 1610. But it was easy to +make it up to them by a grand display of splendid +stage scenery. The affair of Provence owed much of +its success to Madeline’s desolate wildness and the +terror of Sainte-Baume. Loudun was regaled with +the uproar and the bacchanal frenzy of a host of exorcisers +distributed among several churches. Lastly, +Louviers, as we shall presently see, put a little new life +into this fading fashion by inventing midnight scenes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +in which the demons who possessed the nuns began +digging by the glimmer of torches, until they drew +forth certain charms from the holes wherein they had +been concealed.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Loudun business began with the prioress and +a lay sister of hers. They had convulsive fits, and +talked infernal gibberish. Other of the nuns began +copying them, one bold girl especially taking up +Louisa’s part at Marseilles, with the same devil Leviathan, +the leading demon of trickery and evil speaking.</p> + +<p>The little town was all in a tremble. Monks of +every hue provided themselves with nuns, shared them +all round, and exorcised them by threes and fours. +The churches were parcelled out among them; the +Capuchins alone taking two for themselves. The +crowd go after them, swollen by all the women in the +place, and in this frightened audience, throbbing with +anxiety, more than one cries out that she, too, is feeling +the devils.<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> Six girls of the town are possessed. +And the bare recital of these alarming events begets +two new cases of possession at Chinon.</p> + +<p>Everywhere the thing was talked of, at Paris, at the +Court. Our Spanish queen,<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> who is imaginative and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>devout, sends off her almoner; nay more, sends her +faithful follower, the old papist, Lord Montague, who +sees, who believes everything, and reports it all to the +Pope. It is a miracle proven. He had seen the +wounds on a certain nun, and the marks made by the +Devil on the Lady Superior’s hands.</p> + +<p>What said the King of France to this? All his +devotion was turned on the Devil, on hell, on thoughts +of fear. It is said that Richelieu was glad to keep him +thus. I doubt it; the demons were essentially Spanish, +taking the Spanish side: if ever they talked politics, +they must have spoken against Richelieu. Perhaps +he was afraid of them. At any rate, he did them +homage, and sent his niece to prove the interest he +took in the matter.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Court believed, but Loudun itself did not. Its +devils, but sorry imitators of the Marseilles demons, +rehearsed in the morning what they had learnt the +night before from the well-known handbook of Father +Michaëlis. They would never have known what to +say but for the secret exorcisms, the careful rehearsal +of the day’s farce, by which night after night they +were trained to figure before the people.</p> + +<p>One sturdy magistrate, bailiff of the town, made a +stir: going himself to detect the knaves, he threatened +and denounced them. Such, too, was the tacit +opinion of the Archbishop of Bordeaux, to whom +Grandier appealed. He despatched a set of rules for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +the guidance at least of the exorcisers, for putting a +stop to their arbitrary doings; and, better still, he +sent his surgeon, who examined the girls, and found +them to be neither bewitched, nor mad, nor even sick. +What were they then? Knaves, to be sure.<a name="FNanchor_97_97" id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a></p> + +<p>So through the century keeps on this noble duel +between the Physician and the Devil, this battle of +light and knowledge with the dark shades of falsehood. +We saw its beginning in Agrippa and Wyer. Doctor +Duncan carried it bravely on at Loudun, and fearlessly +impressed on others the belief that this affair was +nothing but a farce.</p> + +<p>For all his alleged resistance, the Demon was frightened, +held his tongue, quite lost his voice. But people’s +passions had been too fiercely roused for the matter to +end there. The tide flowed again so strongly in favour +of Grandier, that the assailed became in their turn +assailants. An apothecary of kin to the accusers was +sued by a rich young lady of the town for speaking of +her as the vicar’s mistress. He was condemned to +apologise for his slander.</p> + +<p>The prioress was a lost woman. It would have been +easy to prove, what one witness afterwards saw, that +the marks upon her were made with paint renewed +daily. But she was kinswoman to one of the King’s +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>judges, Laubardemont, and he saved her. He was +simply charged to overthrow the strong places of +Loudun. He got himself commissioned to try Grandier. +The Cardinal was given to understand that the +accused was vicar and friend of the <i>Loudun shoemaker</i>,<a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> +was one of the numerous agents of Mary +of Medici, had made himself his parishioner’s secretary, +and written a disgraceful pamphlet in her name.</p> + +<p>Richelieu, for his part, would have liked to show a +high-minded scorn of the whole business, if he could +have done so with safety to himself. The Capuchins +and Father Joseph had an eye to that also. Richelieu +would have given them a fine handle against him with +the King, had he displayed a want of zeal. One +Quillet, after much grave reflection, went to see the +Minister and give him warning. But the other, afraid +to listen, regarded him with so stern a gaze that the +giver of advice deemed it prudent to seek shelter in +Italy.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Laubardemont arrived at Loudun on the 6th December, +1633, bringing along with him great fear, and +unbounded powers; even those of the King himself. +The whole strength of the kingdom became, as it were, +a dreadful bludgeon to crush one little fly.</p> + +<p>The magistrates were wroth; the civic lieutenant +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>warned Grandier that he would have to arrest him on +the morrow. The latter paid no heed to him, and was +arrested accordingly. In a moment he was carried off, +without form of trial, to the dungeons of Angers. Presently +he was taken back and thrown, where think +you? Into the house, the room of one of his enemies, +who had the windows walled up so as well-nigh to +choke him. The loathsome scrutiny of the wizard’s +body, in order to find out the Devil’s marks by sticking +needles all over it, was carried on by the hands of the +accusers themselves, who took their revenge upon him +beforehand in the foretaste thus given him of his future +punishment.</p> + +<p>They led him to the churches, confronted him with +the girls, who had got their cue from Laubardemont. +These Bacchanals, for such they became under the +fuddling effect of some drugs administered by the condemned +apothecary above-named, flung out in such +frantic rages, that Grandier was nearly perishing one +day beneath their nails.</p> + +<p>Unable to imitate the eloquence of the Marseilles +demoniac, they tried obscenity in its stead. It was a +hideous thing to see these girls give full vent in public +to their sensual fury, on the plea of scolding their +pretended devils. Thus indeed it was that they +managed to swell their audiences. People flocked to +hear from the lips of these women what no woman +would else have dared to utter.</p> + +<p>As the matter grew more hateful, so it also grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +more laughable. They were sure to repeat all awry +what little Latin was ever whispered to them. The +public found that the devils had never gone through +<i>their lower classes</i>. The Capuchins, however, coolly +said that if these demons were weak in Latin, they +were marvellous speakers of Iroquois and Tupinambi.<a name="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>A farce so shameful, seen from a distance of sixty +leagues, from St. Germain or the Louvre, appeared +miraculous, awful, terrifying. The Court admired and +trembled. Richelieu to please them did a cowardly +thing. He ordered money to be paid to the exorcisers, +to the nuns.</p> + +<p>The height of favour to which they had risen, drove +the plotters altogether mad. Senseless words were +followed by shameful deeds. Pleading that the nuns +were tired, the exorcisers got them outside the town, +took them about by themselves. One of them, at least +to all appearance, returned pregnant. In the fifth or +sixth month all outward trace of it disappeared, and +the devil within her acknowledged how wickedly he +had slandered the poor nun by making her look so +large. This tale concerning Loudun we learn from the +historian of Louviers.<a name="FNanchor_100_100" id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a></p> + +<p>It is stated that Father Joseph, after a secret journey +to the spot, saw to what end the matter was coming, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>and noiselessly backed out of it. The Jesuits also +went, tried their exorcisms, did next to nothing, got +scent of the general feeling, and stole off in like +manner.</p> + +<p>But the monks, the Capuchins, were gone so far, +that they could only save themselves by frightening +others. They laid some treacherous snares for the +daring bailiff and his wife, seeking to destroy them, +and thereby quench the coming reaction of justice. +Lastly, they urged on the commissioners to despatch +Grandier. Things could be carried no further: the +nuns themselves were slipping out of their hands. +After that dreadful orgie of sensual rage and immodest +shouting in order to obtain the shedding of human +blood, two or three of them swooned away, were seized +with disgust and horror; vomited up their very selves. +Despite the hideous doom that awaited them if +they spoke the truth, despite the certainty of ending +their days in a dungeon, they owned in church that +they were damned, that they had been playing with +the Devil, and Grandier was innocent.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>They ruined themselves, but could not stay the +issue. A general protest by the town to the King +failed to stay it also. On the 18th August, 1634, +Grandier was condemned to the stake. So violent +were his enemies that, for the second time before +burning him, they insisted on having him stuck with +needles in order to find out the Devil’s marks. One<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +of his judges would have had even his nails torn out +of him, had not the surgeon withheld his leave.</p> + +<p>They were afraid of the last words their victim might +say on the scaffold. Among his papers there had +been found a manuscript condemning the celibacy of +priests, and those who called him a wizard themselves +believed him to be a freethinker. They remembered +the brave words which the martyrs of free thought had +thrown out against their judges; they called to mind +the last speech of Giordano Bruno, the bold defiance of +Vanini.<a name="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> So they agreed with Grandier, that if he +were prudent, he should be saved from burning, perhaps +be strangled. The weak priest, being a man of +flesh, yielded to this demand of the flesh, and promised +to say nothing. He spoke not a word on the road, +nor yet upon the scaffold. When he was fairly fastened +to the post, with everything ready, and the fire so +arranged as to enfold him swiftly in smoke and flames, +his own confessor, a monk, set the faggots ablaze without +waiting for the executioner. The victim, pledged to +silence, had only time to say, “So, you have deceived +me!” when the flames whirled fiercely upwards, and +the furnace of pain began, and nothing was audible +save the wretch’s screams.</p> + +<p>Richelieu in his Memoirs says little, and that with +evident shame, concerning this affair. He gives one +to believe that he only followed the reports that reached +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>him, the voice of general opinion. Nevertheless, by +rewarding the exorcisers, by throwing the reins to the +Capuchins, and letting them triumph over France, he +gave no slight encouragement to that piece of knavery. +Gauffridi, thus renewed in Grandier, is about to reappear +in yet fouler plight in the Louviers affair.</p> + +<p>In this very year, 1634, the demons hunted from +Poitou pass over into Normandy, copying again and +again the fooleries of Sainte-Baume, without any trace +of invention, of talent, or of imagination. The frantic +Leviathan of Provence, when counterfeited at Loudun, +loses his Southern sting, and only gets out of a scrape +by talking fluently to virgins in the language of Sodom. +Presently, alas! at Louviers he loses even his old +daring, imbibes the sluggish temper of the North, and +sinks into a sorry sprite.<a name="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a></p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> Molinos, born at Saragossa in 1627, died a prisoner to the +Inquisition in 1696. His followers were called Quietists.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> An old doctrine which often turns up again in the Middle +Ages. In the seventeenth century it prevails among the convents +of France and Spain. A Norman angel, in the Louviers +business, teaches a nun to despise the body and disregard the +flesh, after the example of Jesus, who bared himself for a +scourging before all the people. He enforces an utter surrendering +of the soul and the will by the example of the Virgin, +“who obeyed the angel Gabriel and conceived, without risk of +evil, for impurity could not come of a spirit.” At Louviers, +David, an old director of some authority, taught “that sin +could be killed by sin, as the better way of becoming innocent +again.”</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> The <i>History of the Loudun Devils</i>, by the Protestant Aubin, +is an earnest, solid book, confirmed by the <i>Reports</i> of Laubardemont +himself. That of the Capuchin Tranquille is a piece of +grotesquerie. The <i>Proceedings</i> are in the Great Library of Paris. +M. Figuier has given a long and excellent account of the whole +affair, in his <i>History of the Marvellous</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> See Del Rio, Llorente Ricci, &c.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> The capture of Rochelle, the last of the Huguenot strongholds +took place in 1628.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> The same hysteric contagion marks the “Revivals” of a +later period, down to the last mad outbreak in Ireland. The +translator hopes some day to work out the physical question +here stated.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> Anne of Austria, wife of Louis XIII.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> Not of necessity knaves, Mr. Michelet; at least not wilfully +so; but silly hysteric patients, of the spirit-rapping, +revivalist order, victims of nervous derangement, or undue +nervous sensibility.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> A woman named Hammon, of low birth, who entered the +service, and rose high in the good graces of Mary of Medici. +See Dumas’ <i>Celebrated Crimes</i>.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_99_99" id="Footnote_99_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> Indians of the coast of Brazil.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_100_100" id="Footnote_100_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> Esprit de Bosroger, p. 135.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_101_101" id="Footnote_101_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> Both Neapolitans, burnt alive, the former at Venice in +1600, the latter at Toulouse in 1619.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_102_102" id="Footnote_102_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> Wright and Dumas both differ from M. Michelet in their +view of Urban Grandier’s character. The latter especially, +regards him as an innocent victim to his own fearlessness and +the hate of his foes, among whom not the least deadly was +Richelieu himself, who bore him a deep personal grudge.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> +</div> + + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_VIII_2" id="CHAPTER_VIII_2"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE DEMONIACS OF LOUVIERS—MADELINE BAVENT: +1633-1647.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">Had</span> Richelieu allowed the inquiry demanded by Father +Joseph into the doings of the Illuminate Confessors, +some strange light would have been thrown into the +depth of the cloisters, on the daily life of the nuns. +Failing that, we may still learn from the Louviers +story, which is far more instructive than those of Aix +and Loudun, that, notwithstanding the new means of +corruption furnished by Illuminism, the director still +resorted to the old trickeries of witchcraft, of apparitions, +heavenly or infernal, and so forth.<a name="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a></p> + +<p>Of the three directors successively appointed to the +Convent of Louviers in the space of thirty years, David, +the first, was an Illuminate, who forestalled Molinos; +the second, Picart, was a wizard dealing with the Devil; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>and Boullé, the third, was a wizard working in the +guise of an angel.</p> + +<p>There is an excellent book about this business; it is +called <i>The History of Magdalen Bavent</i>, a nun of +Louviers; with her Examination, &c., 1652: Rouen.<a name="FNanchor_104_104" id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a> +The date of this book accounts for the thorough +freedom with which it was written. During the wars +of the Fronde, a bold Oratorian priest, who discovered +the nun in one of the Rouen prisons, took courage +from her dictation to write down the story of her +life.</p> + +<p>Born at Rouen in 1607, Madeline was left an +orphan at nine years old. At twelve she was apprenticed +to a milliner. The confessor, a Franciscan, +held absolute sway in the house of this milliner, who +as maker of clothes for the nuns, was dependent on +the Church. The monk caused the apprentices, whom +he doubtless made drunk with belladonna and other +magical drinks, to believe that they had been taken to +the Sabbath and there married to the devil Dagon. +Three were already possessed by him, and Madeline at +fourteen became the fourth.</p> + +<p>She was a devout worshipper, especially of St. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>Francis. A Franciscan monastery had just been +founded at Louviers, by a lady of Rouen, widow of +lawyer Hennequin, who was hanged for cheating. She +hoped by this good deed of hers to help in saving her +husband’s soul. To that end she sought counsel of a +holy man, the old priest David, who became director +to the new foundation. Standing at the entrance of +the town, with a wood surrounding it, this convent, +born of so tragical a source, seemed quite gloomy and +poor enough for a place of stern devotion. David was +known as author of a <i>Scourge for Rakes</i>, an odd and +violent book against the abuses that defiled the +Cloister.<a name="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a> All of a sudden this austere person took +up some very strange ideas concerning purity. He +became an Adamite, preached up the nakedness of +Adam in his days of innocence. The docile nuns of +Louviers sought to subdue and abase the novices, to +break them into obedience, by insisting—of course in +summer-time—that these young Eves should return to +the plight of their common mother. In this state they +were sent out for exercise in some secluded gardens, +and were taken into the chapel itself. Madeline, who +at sixteen had come to be received as a novice, was too +proud, perhaps in those days too pure also, to submit +to so strange a way of life. She got an angry scolding +for having tried at communion to hide her bosom with +the altar-cloth.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> +<p>Not less unwilling was she to uncover her soul, to +confess to the Lady Superior, after the usual monastic +custom of which the abbesses were particularly fond. +She would rather trust herself with old David, who kept +her apart from the rest. He himself confided his own +ailments into her ear. Nor did he hide from her his +inner teaching, the Illuminism, which governed the +convent: “You must kill sin by being made humble +and lost to all sense of pride through sin.” Madeline +was frightened at the depths of depravity reached by +the nuns, who quietly carried out the teaching with +which they had been imbued. She avoided their company, +kept to herself, and succeeded in getting made +one of the doorkeepers.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>David died when she was eighteen. Old age prevented +his going far with the girl. But the vicar +Picart, who succeeded him, was furious in his pursuit +of her; at the confessional spoke to her only of his +love. He made her his sextoness, that he might meet +her alone in chapel. She liked him not; but the nuns +forbade her to have another confessor, lest she might +divulge their little secrets. And thus she was given +over to Picart. He beset her when she was sick almost +to death; seeking to frighten her by insisting that +from David he had received some infernal prescriptions. +He sought to win her compassion by feigning illness +and begging her to come and see him. Thenceforth +he became her master, upset her mind with magic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +potions, and worked her into believing that she had +gone with him to the Sabbath, there to officiate as altar +and victim. At length, exceeding even the Sabbath +usages and daring the scandal that would follow, he +made her to be with child.</p> + +<p>The nuns were afraid of one who knew the state of +their morals; and their interest also bound them to +him. The convent was enriched by his energy, his +good repute, the alms and gifts he attracted towards it +from every quarter. He was building them a large +church. We saw in the Loudun business by what +rivalries and ambitions these houses were led away, +how jealously they strove each to outdo the others. +Through the trust reposed in him by the wealthy, +Picart saw himself raised into the lofty part of benefactor +and second founder of the convent. “Sweetheart,” +he said to Madeline, “that noble church is +all my building! After my death you will see wonders +wrought there. Do you not agree to that?”</p> + +<p>This fine gentleman did not put himself out at +all regarding Madeline. He paid a dowry for her, and +made a nun of her who was already a lay-sister. Thus, +being no longer a doorkeeper, she could live in one of +the inner rooms, and there be brought to bed at her +convenience. By means of certain drugs, and practices +of their own, the convents could do without the help of +doctors. Madeline said that she was delivered several +times. She never said what became of the newly-born.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> + +<p>Picart being now an old man, feared lest Madeline +might in her fickleness fly off some day, and utter +words of remorse to another confessor. So he took a +detestable way of binding her to himself beyond recall, +by forcing her to make a will in which she promised +“to die when he died, and to be wherever he was.” +This was a dreadful thought for the poor soul. Must +she be drawn along with him into the bottomless pit? +Must she go down with him, even into hell? She +deemed herself for ever lost. Become his property, his +mere tool, she was used and misused by him for all +kinds of purposes. He made her do the most shameful +things. He employed her as a magical charm to +gain over the rest of the nuns. A holy wafer steeped +in Madeline’s blood, and buried in the garden, would +be sure to disturb their senses and their minds.</p> + +<p>This was the very year in which Urban Grandier was +burnt. Throughout France, men spoke of nothing +but the devils of Loudun. The Penitentiary of Evreux, +who had been one of the actors on that stage, carried +the dreadful tale back with him to Normandy. Madeline +fancied herself bewitched and knocked about by +devils; followed about by a lewd cat with eyes of fire. +By degrees, other nuns caught the disorder, which +showed itself in odd supernatural jerks and writhings. +Madeline had besought aid of a Capuchin, afterwards +of the Bishop of Evreux. The prioress was not sorry +for a step of which she must have been aware, for she +saw what wealth and fame a like business had brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +to the Convent of Loudun. But for six years the +bishop turned a deaf ear to the prayer, doubtless +through fear of Richelieu, who was then at work on a +reform of the cloisters.</p> + +<p>Richelieu wanted to bring these scandals to an end. +It was not till his own death, and that of Louis XIII., +during the break-up which followed on the rule of the +Queen and Mazarin, that the priests again betook +themselves to working wonders, and waging war with +the Devil. Picart being dead, they were less shy of a +matter in which so dangerous a man might have +accused others in his turn. They met the visions of +Madeline, by looking out a visionary for themselves. +They got admission into the convent for a certain +Sister Anne of the Nativity, a girl of sanguine, +hysteric temperament, frantic at need and half-mad, +so far at least as to believe in her own lies. A kind +of dogfight was got up between the two. They +besmeared each other with false charges. Anne saw +the Devil quite naked, by Madeline’s side. Madeline +swore to seeing Anne at the Sabbath, along with the +Lady Superior, the Mother-Assistant, and the Mother +of the Novices. Besides this, there was nothing new; +merely a hashing up of the two great trials at Aix and +Loudun. They read and followed the printed narratives +only. No wit, no invention, was shown by +either.</p> + +<p>Anne, the accuser, and her devil Leviathan, were +backed by the Penitentiary of Evreux, one of the chief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +actors in the Loudun affair. By his advice, the Bishop +of Evreux gave orders to disinter the body of Picart, so +that the devils might leave the convent when Picart +himself was taken away from the neighbourhood. +Madeline was condemned, without a hearing, to be disgraced, +to have her body examined for the marks of the +Devil. They tore off her veil and gown, and made her +the wretched sport of a vile curiosity, that would have +pierced her till she bled again, in order to win the +right of sending her to the stake. Leaving to no one +else the care of a scrutiny which was in itself a torture, +these virgins acting as matrons, ascertained if she was +with child or no, shaved all her body, and dug their +needles into her quivering flesh, to find out the insensible +spots that betrayed the mark of the Devil. At +every dig they discovered signs of pain: if they had +not the luck to prove her a Witch, at any rate, they +could revel in her tears and cries.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But Sister Anne was not satisfied, until, on the mere +word of her own devil, Madeline, though acquitted by +the results of this examination, was condemned for the +rest of her life to an <i>In pace</i>. It was said that the +convent would be quieted by her departure; but such +was not the case. The Devil was more violent than +ever; some twenty nuns began to cry out, to prophesy, +to beat themselves.</p> + +<p>Such a sight drew thither a curious crowd from +Rouen, and even from Paris. Yvelin, a young Parisian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +surgeon, who had already seen the farce at Loudun, +came to see that of Louviers. He brought with him a +very clear-headed magistrate, the Commissioner of +Taxes at Rouen. They devoted unwearying attention +to the matter, settled themselves at Louviers, and +carried on their researches for seventeen days.</p> + +<p>From the first day they saw into the plot. A conversation +they had had with the Penitentiary of Evreux +on their entrance into the town, was repeated back to +them by Sister Anne’s demon, as if it had been a revelation. +The scenic arrangements were very bewitching. +The shades of night, the torches, the flickering and +smoking lights, produced effects which had not been +seen at Loudun. The rest of the process was simple +enough. One of the bewitched said that in a certain +part of the garden they would find a charm. They +dug for it, and it was found. Unluckily, Yvelin’s friend, +the sceptical magistrate, never budged from the side of +the leading actress, Sister Anne. At the very edge of +a hole they had just opened he grasped her hand, and +on opening it, found the charm, a bit of black thread, +which she was about to throw into the ground.</p> + +<p>The exorcisers, the penitentiary, priests, and Capuchins, +about the spot, were overwhelmed with confusion. +The dauntless Yvelin, on his own authority, began a +scrutiny, and saw to the uttermost depth of the affair.</p> + +<p>Among the fifty-two nuns, said he, there were six +<i>possessed</i>, but deserving of chastisement. Seventeen +more were victims under a spell, a pack of girls upset<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +by the disease of the cloisters. He describes it with +great precision: the girls are regular but hysterical, +blown out with certain inward storms, lunatics mainly, +and disordered in mind. A nervous contagion has +ruined them; and the first thing to do is to keep them +apart.</p> + +<p>He then, with the liveliness of Voltaire, examines the +tokens by which the priests were wont to recognize the +supernatural character of the bewitched. They foretel, +he allows, but only what never happens. They +translate, indeed, but without understanding; as when, +for instance, they render “<i>ex parte virginis</i>,” by “the +departure of the Virgin.” They know Greek before +the people of Louviers, but cannot speak it before the +doctors of Paris. They cut capers, take leaps of the +easiest kind, climb up the trunk of a tree which a child +three years old might climb. In short, the only thing +they do that is really dreadful and unnatural, is to use +dirtier language than men would ever do.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>In tearing off the mask from these people, the surgeon +rendered a great service to humanity. For the +matter was being pushed further; other victims were +about to be made. Besides the charms were found some +papers, ascribed to David or Picart, in which this and +that person were called witches, and marked out for +death. Each one shuddered lest his name should be +found there. Little by little the fear of the priesthood +made its way among the people.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> + +<p>The rotten age of Mazarin, the first days of the +weak Anne of Austria, were already come. Order and +government were no more. “But one phrase was left +in the language: <i>The Queen is so good.</i>” Her goodness +gave the clergy a chance of getting the upper +hand. The power of the laity entombed with Richelieu, +bishops, priests, and monks, were about to reign. The +bold impiety of the magistrate and his friend Yvelin +imperilled so sweet a hope. Groans and wailings went +forth to the Good Queen, not from the victims, but +from the knaves thus caught in the midst of their +offences. Up to the Court they went, weeping for the +outrage to their religion.</p> + +<p>Yvelin was not prepared for this stroke: he deemed +himself firm at Court, having for ten years borne the +title of Surgeon to the Queen. Before he returned +from Louviers to Paris, the weakness of Anne of +Austria had been tempted into granting another commission +named by his opponents, consisting of an old +fool in his dotage, one Diafoirus of Rouen, and his +nephew, both attached to the priesthood. These did +not fail to discover that the Louviers affair was supernatural, +transcending all art of man.</p> + +<p>Any other than Yvelin would have been discouraged. +The Rouen physicians treated with utter scorn this +surgeon, this barber fellow, this mere sawbones. The +Court gave him no encouragement. Still, he held on +his way in a treatise which will live yet. He accepts +this battle of science against priestcraft, declaring, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +Wyer did in the sixteenth century, that “in all such +matters the right judge is not the priest but the man +of science.” With great difficulty he found some one +bold enough to print, but no one willing to sell his +little work. So in broad daylight the heroic young +man set about distributing it with his own hands. +Placing himself on the Pont Neuf, the most frequented +spot in Paris, at the foot of Henry the Fourth’s statue, +he gave out copies of his memoir to the passers by. +At the end of it they found a formal statement of the +shameful fraud, how in the hand of the female demons +the magistrate had caught the unanswerable evidence +of their dishonour.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Return we to the wretched Madeline. Her enemy, +the Penitentiary of Evreux, by whose influence she had +been searched with needles, carried her off as his prey +to the heart of the episcopal dungeons in that town. +Below an underground passage dipped a cave, below +the cave a cell, where the poor human creature lay +buried in damps and darkness. Reckoning upon her +speedy death, her dread companions had not even the +kindness to give her a piece of linen for the dressing +of her ulcer. There, as she lay in her own filth, she +suffered alike from pain and want of cleanliness. The +whole night long she was disturbed by the running to +and fro of ravenous rats, those terrors of every prison, +who were wont to nibble men’s ears and noses.</p> + +<p>But all these horrors fell short of those which her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +tyrant, the Penitentiary, dealt out to her himself. Day +after day he would come into the upper vault and speak +to her through the mouth of her pit, threatening her, +commanding her, and making her, whether she would +or no, confess to this or that crime as having been +wrought by others. At length she ceased to eat. +Fearing that she might die at once, he drew her for +a while out of her <i>In Pace</i>, and laid her in the upper +vault. Then, in his rage against Yvelin’s memoir, he +cast her back into her sewer below.</p> + +<p>That glimpse of light, that short renewal and sudden +death of hope, gave the crowning impulse to her +despair. Her wound was closing, so that her strength +was greater. She was seized with a deep and violent +thirst for death. She swallowed spiders, but instead +of dying, only brought them up again. Pounded +glass she swallowed, but in vain. Finding an old bit +of sharp iron, she tried to cut her throat, but could +not. Then, as an easier way, she dug the iron into +her belly. For four hours she worked and bled, but +without success. Even this wound shortly began to +close. To crown all, the life she hated so returned to +her stronger than before. Her heart’s death was of +no avail.</p> + +<p>She became once more a woman; still, alas! an +object of desire, of temptation for her jailers, those +brutish varlets of the bishopric, who, notwithstanding +the horror of the place, and the unhappy creature’s +own sad and filthy plight, would come to make sport<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +of her, believing that they might do all their pleasure +against a Witch. But an angel succoured her, so she +said. From men and rats alike she defended herself. +But against herself, herself she could not protect. Her +prison corrupted her mind. She dreamed of the Devil, +besought him to come and see her, to restore to her the +shameful pleasures in which she had wallowed at +Louviers. He never deigned to come back. Once +more amidst this corruption of her senses, she fell +back on her old desire for death. One of the jailers +had given her a drug to kill the rats. She was just +going to swallow it herself, when an angel—an angel, +was it, or a devil?—stayed her hand, reserving her +for other crimes.</p> + +<p>Thenceforward—sunk into the lowest depths of vileness, +become an unspeakable cipher of cowardice and +servility—she signed endless lists of crimes which she +had never committed. Was she worth the trouble of +burning? Many had given up that idea, but the ruthless +Penitentiary clung to it still. He offered money +to a Wizard of Evreux, then in prison, if he would +bear such witness as might bring about the death of +Madeline.</p> + +<p>For the future, however, they could use her for other +purposes—to bear false witness, to become a tool for +any slander. Whenever they sought the ruin of any +man, they had only to drag down to Louviers or to +Evreux this accursed ghost of a dead woman, living +only to make others die. In this way she was brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +out to kill with her words a poor man named Duval. +What the Penitentiary dictated to her, she repeated +readily: when he told her by what marks she should +know Duval, whom she had never seen, she pointed +him out and said she had seen him at the Sabbath. +Through her it fell out that he was burnt!</p> + +<p>She owned her dreadful crime, and shuddered to +think what answer she could make before God. She +was fallen into such contempt that no one now deigned +to look after her. The doors stood wide open: sometimes +she had the keys herself. But where now should +she go, object as she was of so much dread? Thenceforth +the world repelled her—cast her out: the only +world she had left was her dungeon.</p> + +<p>During the anarchy of Mazarin and his Good Lady +the chief authority remained with the Parliaments. +That of Rouen, hitherto the friendliest to the clergy, +grew wroth at last at their arrogant way of examining, +ordering, and burning people. A mere decree of the +Bishop had caused Picart’s body to be disinterred and +thrown into the common sewer. And now they were +passing on to the trial of Boullé, the curate, and supposed +abettor of Picart. Listening to the plaint of +Picart’s family, the Parliament sentenced the Bishop of +Evreux to replace him at his own expense in his tomb +at Louviers. They called up Boullé, undertook his +trial themselves, and at the same time sent for the +wretched Madeline from Evreux to Rouen.</p> + +<p>People were afraid that Yvelin and the magistrate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +who had caught the nuns in the very act of cheating, +would be made to appear. Hieing away to Paris, they +found the knave Mazarin ready to protect their knavish +selves. The whole matter was appealed to the King’s +Council—an indulgent court, without eyes or ears—whose +care it was to bury, hush up, bedarken everything +connected with justice.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, some honey-tongued priests had comforted +Madeline in her Rouen dungeon; they heard +her confessions, and enjoined her, by way of penance, +to ask forgiveness of her persecutors, the nuns of +Louviers. Thenceforth, happen what might, Madeline +could never more be brought in evidence against those +who had thus bound her fast. It was a triumph indeed +for the clergy, and the victory was sung by a +knave of an exorciser, the Capuchin Esprit de Bosroger, +in his <i>Piety Afflicted</i>, a farcical monument of +stupidity, in which he accuses, unawares, the very people +he fancies himself defending.</p> + +<p>The Fronde, as I said before, was a revolution for +honest ends. Fools saw only its outer form—its +laughable aspects; but at bottom it was a serious +business, a moral reaction. In August, 1647, with the +first breath of freedom, Parliament stepped forward +and cut the knot. It ordered, in the first place, the +destruction of the Louviers Sodom; the girls were to +be dispersed and sent back to their kinsfolk. In the +next, it decreed that thenceforth the bishops of the +province should, four times a-year, send special confessors<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +to the nunneries, to ascertain that such foul +abuses were not renewed.</p> + +<p>One comfort, however, the clergy were to receive. +They were allowed to burn the bones of Picart and the +living body of Boullé, who, after making public confession +in the cathedral, was drawn on a hurdle to the +Fish Market, and there, on the 21st August, 1647, +devoured by the flames. Madeline, or rather her corpse, +remained in the prisons of Rouen.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_103_103" id="Footnote_103_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> It was very easy to cheat those who wished to be cheated. +By this time celibacy was harder to practise than in the Middle +Ages, the number of fasts and bloodlettings being greatly +reduced. Many died from the nervous plethora of a life so +cruelly sluggish. They made no secret of their torments, +owning them to their sisters, to their confessor, to the Virgin +herself. A pitiful thing, a thing to sorrow for, not to ridicule. +In Italy, a nun besought the Virgin for pity’s sake to grant +her a lover.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_104_104" id="Footnote_104_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> I know of no book more important, more dreadful, or +worthier of being reprinted. It is the most powerful narrative +of its class. <i>Piety Afflicted</i>, by the Capuchin Esprit de +Bosroger, is a work immortal in the annals of tomfoolery. The +two excellent pamphlets by the doughty surgeon, Yvelin, the +<i>Inquiry</i> and the <i>Apology</i>, are in the Library of Ste. Genevieve.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_105_105" id="Footnote_105_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> See Floquet; <i>Parliament of Normandy</i>, vol. v. p. 636.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_IX_2" id="CHAPTER_IX_2"></a>CHAPTER IX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE DEVIL TRIUMPHS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> Fronde was a kind of Voltaire. The spirit of +Voltaire, old as France herself, but long restrained, +burst forth in the political, and anon in the religious, +world. In vain did the Great King seek to establish +a solemn gravity. Beneath it laughter went on.</p> + +<p>Was there nought else, then, but laughter and jesting? +Nay, it was the Advent of Reason. By means +of Kepler, of Galileo, Descartes, Newton, there was +now triumphantly enthroned the reasonable dogma of +faith in the unchangeable laws of nature. Miracle +dared no longer show itself, or, when it did dare, was +hissed down. In other and better words, the fantastic +miracles of mere whim had vanished, and in their +stead was seen the mighty miracle of the universe—more +regular, and therefore more divine.</p> + +<p>The great rebellion decidedly won the day. You +may see it working in the bold forms of those earlier +outbursts; in the irony of Galileo; in the absolute +doubt wherewith Descartes leads off his system. The +Middle Ages would have said, “’Tis the spirit of the +Evil One.”</p> + +<p>The victory, however, is not a negative one, but very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +affirmative and surely based. The spirit of nature +and the natural sciences, those outlaws of an elder +day, return in might irresistible. All idle shadows +are hunted out by the real, the substantial.</p> + +<p>They had said in their folly, “Great Pan is dead.” +Anon, observing that he was yet alive, they had made +him a god of evil: amid such a chaos they might well +be deceived. But, lo! he lives, and lives harmonious, +in the grand stability of laws that govern alike the +star and the deep-hidden mystery of life.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Of this period two things, by no means contradictory, +may be averred: the spirit of Satan conquers, +while the reign of witchcraft is at an end.</p> + +<p>All marvel-mongering, hellish or holy, is fallen very +sick at last. Wizards and theologians are powerless +alike. They are become, as it were, empirics, who +pray in vain for some supernatural change, some whim +of Providence, to work the wonders which science asks +of nature and reason only.</p> + +<p>For all their zeal, the Jansenists of this century +succeed only in bringing forth a miracle very small +and very ridiculous. Still less lucky are the rich and +powerful Jesuits, who cannot get a miracle done at +any price; who have to be satisfied with the visions of +a hysteric girl, Sister Mary Alacoque, of an exceedingly +sanguine habit, with eyes for nothing but blood. +In view of so much impotence, magic and witchcraft +may find some solace for themselves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> + +<p>While the old faith in the supernatural was thus declining, +priests and witches shared a common fate. In +the fears, the fancies of the Middle Ages, these two +were bound up together. Together they were still to +face the general laughter and disdain. When Molière +made fun of the Devil and his “seething cauldrons,” +the clergy were deeply stirred, deeming that the belief +in Paradise had fallen equally low.</p> + +<p>A government of laymen only, that of the great +Colbert, who was long the virtual King of France, +could not conceal its scorn for such old questions. It +emptied the prisons of the wizards whom the Rouen +Parliament still crowded into them, and, in 1672, forbade +the law courts from entertaining any prosecutions +for witchcraft. The Parliament protested, and gave +people to understand that by this denial of sorcery +many other things were put in peril. Any doubting +of these lower mysteries would cause many minds to +waver from their belief in mysteries of a higher sort.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Sabbath disappears, but why? Because it +exists everywhere. It enters into the people’s habits, +becomes the practice of their daily life. The Devil, +the Witches, had long been reproached with loving +death more than life, with hating and hindering the +generative powers of nature. And now in the pious +seventeenth century, when the Witch is fast dying out, +a love of barrenness, and a fear of being fruitful, are +found to be, in very truth, the one prevalent disease.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> + +<p>If Satan ever read, he would have good cause for +laughter as he read the casuists who took him up +where he left off. For there was one difference at +least between them. In times of terror Satan made +provision for the famished, took pity on the poor. But +these fellows have compassion only for the rich. With +his vices, his luxury, his court life, the rich man is still +a needy miserable beggar. He comes to confession +with a humbly threatening air, in order to wrest from +his doctor permission to sin with a good conscience. +Some day will be told, by him who may have the +courage to tell it, an astounding tale of the cowardly +things done, and the shameful tricks so basely ventured +by the casuist who wished to keep his penitent. +From Navarro to Escobar the strangest bargains were +continually made at the wife’s expense, and some little +wrangling went on after that. But all this would not +do. The casuist was conquered, was altogether a +coward. From Zoccoli to Liguori—1670 to 1770—he +gave up banning Nature.</p> + +<p>The Devil, so it was said, showed two countenances +at the Sabbath: the one in front seemed threatening, +the other behind was farcical. Now that he has nothing +to do with it, he has generously given the latter +to the casuist.</p> + +<p>It must have amused him to see his trusty friends +settled among honest folk, in the serious households +swayed by the Church. The worldling who bettered +himself by that great resource of the day, lucrative<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +adultery, laughed at prudence, and boldly followed his +natural bent. Pious families, on the other hand, followed +nothing but their Jesuits. In order to preserve, +to concentrate their property, to leave each one wealthy +heir, they entered on the crooked ways of the new +spiritualism. Buried in a mysterious gloom, losing at +the faldstool all heed and knowledge of themselves, +the proudest of them followed the lesson taught by +Molinos: “In this world we live to suffer. But in +time that suffering is soothed and lulled to sleep by a +habit of pious indifference. We thus attain to a negation. +Death do you say? Not altogether. Without +mingling in the world, or heeding its voices, we get +thereof an echo dim and soft. It is like a windfall of +Divine Grace, so mild and searching; never more so +than in moments of self-abasement, when the will is +wholly obscured.”</p> + +<p>Exquisite depths of feeling! Alas, poor Satan! +how art thou left behind! Bend low, acknowledge, +and admire thy children!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The physicians who, having sprung from the popular +empiricism which men called witchcraft, were far more +truly his lawful children, were too forgetful of him +who had left them his highest patrimony, as being his +favoured heirs. They were ungrateful to the Witch, +who laid the way for themselves. Nay, they went +further than that. On this fallen king, their father +and creator, they dealt some hard strokes with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +whip. “<i>Thou, too, my son?</i>” They gave the jesters +cruel weapons against him.</p> + +<p>Even in the sixteenth century there were some to +scoff at the spirit who through all time, from the days of +the Sibyl to those of the Witch, had filled and troubled +the woman. They maintained that he was neither +God nor Devil, but only “the Prince of the Air,” as +the Middle Ages called him. Satan was nothing but +a disease!</p> + +<p><i>Possession</i> to them was only a result of the prison-like, +sedentary, dry, unyielding life of the cloister. As +for the 6500 devils in Gauffridi’s little Madeline, and +the hosts that fought in the bodies of maddened nuns at +Loudun and Louviers, these doctors called them physical +storms. “If Æolus can shake the earth,” said Yvelin, +“why not also the body of a girl?” La Cadière’s +surgeon, of whom more anon, had the coolness to say, +“it was nothing more than a choking of the womb.”</p> + +<p>Wonderful descent! Routed by the simplest remedies, +by exorcisms after Molière, the terror of the +Middle Ages would flee away and vanish utterly!</p> + +<p>This is too sweeping a reduction of the question. +Satan was more than that. The doctors saw neither +the height nor the depth of him; neither his grand +revolt in the form of science, nor that strange mixture +of impurity and pious intrigue, that union of +Tartuffe and Priapus, which he brought to pass about +the year 1700.</p> + +<p>People fancy they know something about the eighteenth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +century, and yet have never seen one of its +most essential features. The greater its outward civilization, +the clearer and fuller the light that bathed its +uppermost layers, so much the more hermetically +sealed lay all those widespread lower realms, of priests +and monks, and women credulous, sickly, prone to believe +whatever they heard or saw. In the years before +Cagliostro, Mesmer, and the magnetisers, who appeared +towards the close of the century, a good many priests +still worked away at the old dead witchcraft. They +talked of nothing but enchantments, spread the fear of +them abroad, and undertook to hunt out the devils +with their shameful exorcisms. Many set up for +wizards, well knowing how little risk they ran, now +that people were no longer burnt. They knew they +were sheltered by the milder spirit of their age, by the +tolerant teachings of their foes the philosophers, by +the levity of the great jesters, who thought that anything +could be extinguished with a laugh. Now it +was just because people laughed, that these gloomy +plot-spinners went their way without much fear. The +new spirit, that of the Regent namely, was sceptical +and easy-natured. It shone forth in the <i>Persian +Letters</i>, it shone forth everywhere in the all-powerful +journalist who filled that century, Voltaire. At any +shedding of human blood his whole heart rises indignant. +All other matters only make him laugh. Little +by little, the maxim of the worldly public seems to be, +“Punish nothing, and laugh at all.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>This tolerant spirit suffered Cardinal Tencin to appear +in public as his sister’s husband. This, too, it +was that ensured to the masters of convents the peaceful +possession of their nuns, who were even allowed to +make declarations of pregnancy, to register the births +of their children.<a name="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> This tolerant temper made excuses +for Father Apollinaire, when he was caught in a shameful +piece of exorcism. That worthy Jesuit, Cauvrigny, +idol of the provincial convents, paid for his adventures +only by a recall to Paris, in other words—by fresh +preferment.</p> + +<p>Such also was the punishment awarded the famous +Jesuit, Girard, who was loaded with honours when he +should have got the rope. He died in the sweetest +savour of holiness. His was the most curious affair of +that century. It enables us to probe the peculiar methods +of that day, to realize the coarse jumble of jarring +machinery which was then at work. As a thing of +course, it was preluded by the dangerous suavities of +the Song of Songs. It was carried on by Mary +Alacoque, with a marriage of Bleeding Hearts spiced +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>with the morbid blandishments of Molinos. To these +Girard added the whisperings of Satan and the terrors +of enchantment. He was at once the Devil and the +Devil’s exorciser. At last, horrible to say, instead of +getting justice done to her, the unhappy girl whom he +sacrificed with so much cruelty, was persecuted to +death. She disappeared, shut up perhaps by a <i>lettre +de cachet</i>, and buried alive in her tomb.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_106_106" id="Footnote_106_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> The noble Chapter of Canons of Pignan were sixteen in +number. In one year the provost received from the nuns sixteen +declarations of pregnancy. (See MS. History of Besse, +by M. Renoux.) One good fruit of this publicity was the decrease +of infanticide among the religious orders. At the price +of a little shame, the nuns let their children live, and doubtless +became good mothers. Those of Pignan put their babes out +to nurse with the neighbouring peasants, who brought them up +as their own.</p></div> +</div> + + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_X_2" id="CHAPTER_X_2"></a>CHAPTER X.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>FATHER GIRARD AND LA CADIERE: 1730.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> Jesuits were unlucky. Powerful at Versailles, +where they ruled the Court, they had not the slightest +credit with Heaven. Not one tiny miracle could they +do. The Jansenists overflowed, at any rate, with +touching stories of miracles done. Untold numbers +of sick, infirm, halt, and paralytic obtained a momentary +cure at the tomb of the Deacon Pâris. Crushed by a +terrible succession of plagues, from the time of the +Great King to the Regency, when so many were reduced +to beggary, these unfortunate people went to +entreat a poor, good fellow, a virtuous imbecile, a +saint in spite of his absurdities, to make them whole. +And what need, after all, of laughter? His life is far +more touching than ridiculous. We are not to be +surprised if these good folk, in the emotion of seeing +their benefactor’s tomb, suddenly forgot their own +sufferings. The cure did not last, but what matter? +A miracle indeed had taken place, a miracle of devotion, +of lovingkindness, of gratitude. Latterly, with +all this some knavery began to mingle, but at that +time, in 1728, these wonderful popular scenes were +very pure.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Jesuits would have given anything for the least +of the miracles they denied. For well-nigh fifty years +they worked away, embellishing with fables and anecdotes +their Legend of the Sacred Heart, the story of +Mary Alacoque. For twenty-five or thirty years they +had been trying to convince the world that their helpmate, +James II. of England, not content with healing +the king’s evil (in his character of King of France), +amused himself after his death in making the dumb to +speak, the lame to walk straight, and the squint-eyed +to see properly. They who were cured squinted worse +than ever. As for the dumb, it so chanced that she +who played this part was a manifest rogue, caught in +the very act of stealing. She roamed the provinces: +at every chapel of any renowned saint she was healed +by a miracle and received alms, and then began her +work again elsewhere.</p> + +<p>For getting wonders wrought the South was a better +country. There might be found a plenty of nervous +women, easy to excite, the very ones to make into +somnambulists, subjects of miracle, bearers of mystic +marks, and so forth.</p> + +<p>At Marseilles the Jesuits had on their side a bishop, +Belzunce, a bold, hearty sort of man, renowned in the +memorable plague,<a name="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> but credulous and narrow-minded +withal; under whose countenance many a bold venture +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>might be made. Beside him they had placed a Jesuit +of Franche-Comté, not wanting in mind, whose austere +outside did not prevent his preaching pleasantly, in +an ornate and rather worldly style, such as the ladies +loved. A true Jesuit, he made his way by two different +methods, now by feminine intrigue, anon by his +holy utterances. Girard had on his side neither years +nor figure; he was a man of forty-seven, tall, withered, +weak-looking, of dirty aspect, and given to spitting +without end.<a name="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> He had long been a tutor, even till he +was thirty-seven; and he preserved some of his college +tastes. For the last ten years, namely, ever since the +great plague, he had been confessor to the nuns. With +them he had fared well, winning over them a high +degree of power by enforcing a method seemingly +quite at variance with the Provencial temperament, by +teaching the doctrine and the discipline of a mystic +death, of absolute passiveness, of entire forgetfulness +of self. The dreadful crisis through which they had +just passed had deadened their spirits, and weakened +hearts already unmanned by a kind of morbid languor. +Under Girard’s leading, the Carmelites of Marseilles +carried their mysticism to great lengths; and first +among them was Sister Remusat, who passed for a +saint.</p> + +<p>In spite, or perhaps by reason, of this success, the +Jesuits took Girard away from Marseilles: they wanted +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>to employ him in raising anew their house at Toulon. +Colbert’s splendid institution, the Seminary for Naval +Chaplains, had been entrusted to the Jesuits, with the +view of cleansing the young chaplains from the influence +of the Lazarists, who ruled them almost everywhere. +But the two Jesuits placed in charge were +men of small capacity. One was a fool; the other, +Sabatier, remarkable, in spite of his age, for heat of +temper. With all the insolence of our old navy he +never kept himself under the least control. In +Toulon he was reproached, not for having a mistress, +nor yet a married woman, but for intriguing in a way +so insolent and outrageous as to drive the husband +wild. He sought to keep the husband specially alive +to his own shame, to make him wince with every kind +of pang. Matters were pushed so far that at last the +husband died outright.</p> + +<p>Still greater was the scandal caused by the Jesuits’ +rivals, the Observantines, who, having spiritual charge +of a sisterhood at Ollioules, made mistresses openly of +the nuns, and, not content with this, dared even to +seduce the little boarders. One Aubany, the Father +Guardian, violated a girl of thirteen; when her parents +pursued him, he found shelter at Marseilles.</p> + +<p>As Director of the Seminary for Chaplains, Girard +began, through his seeming sternness and his real +dexterity, to win for the Jesuits an ascendant over +monks thus compromised, and over parish-priests of +very vulgar manners and scanty learning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> + +<p>In those Southern regions, where the men are abrupt, +not seldom uncouth of speech and appearance, the +women have a lively relish for the gentle gravity of the +men of the North: they feel thankful to them for +speaking a language at once aristocratic, official, and +French.</p> + +<p>When Girard reached Toulon, he must already have +gained full knowledge of the ground before him. +Already had he won over a certain Guiol, who sometimes +came to Marseilles, where she had a daughter, a +Carmelite nun. This Guiol, wife of a small carpenter, +threw herself entirely into his hands, even more so +than he wanted. She was of ripe age, extremely vehement +for a woman of forty-seven, depraved and ready +for anything, ready to do him service of whatever kind, +no matter what he might do or be, whether he were a +sinner or a saint.</p> + +<p>This Guiol, besides her Carmelite daughter at Marseilles, +had another, a lay-sister to the Ursulines of +Toulon. The Ursulines, an order of teaching nuns, +formed everywhere a kind of centre; their parlour, the +resort of mothers, being a half-way stage between the +cloister and the world. At their house, and doubtless +through their means, Girard saw the ladies of the +town, among them one of forty years, a spinster, Mdlle. +Gravier, daughter of an old contractor for the royal +works at the Arsenal. This lady had a shadow who +never left her, her cousin La Reboul, daughter of a +skipper and sole heiress to herself; a woman, too, who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> +really meant to succeed her, though very nearly +her own age, being five-and-thirty. Around these +gradually grew a small roomful of Girard’s admirers, +who became his regular penitents. Among them were +sometimes introduced a few young girls, such as +La Cadière, a tradesman’s daughter and herself a +sempstress, La Laugier, and La Batarelle, the daughter +of a waterman. They had godly readings together, +and now and then small suppers. But they were +specially interested in certain letters which recounted +the miracles and ecstacies of Sister Remusat, who was +still alive; her death occurring in February, 1730. +What a glorious thing for Father Girard, who had led +her to a pitch so lofty! They read, they wept, they +shouted with admiration. If they were not ecstatic +yet, they were not far from being so. Already, to +please her kinswoman, would La Reboul throw herself +at times into a strange plight by holding her breath +and pinching her nose.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Among these girls and women the least frivolous +certainly was Catherine Cadière, a delicate, sickly girl +of seventeen, taken up wholly with devotion and +charity, of a mournful countenance, which seemed to +say that, young as she was, she had felt more keenly +than anyone else the great misfortunes of the time, +those, namely, of Provence and Toulon. This is easily +explained. She was born during the frightful famine +of 1709; and just as the child was growing into a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +maiden, she witnessed the fearful scenes of the great +plague. Those two events seemed to have left their +mark upon her, to have taken her out of the present +into a life beyond.</p> + +<p>This sad flower belonged wholly to Toulon, to the +Toulon of that day. To understand her better we +must remember what that town is and what it was.</p> + +<p>Toulon is a thoroughfare, a landing-place, the entrance +of an immense harbour and a huge arsenal. +The sense of this carries the traveller away, and prevents +his seeing Toulon itself. There is a town however +there, indeed an ancient city. It contains two +different sets of people, the stranger functionaries, and +the genuine Toulonnese, who are far from friendly to +the former, regarding them with envy, and often +roused to rebellion by the swaggering of the naval +officers. All these differences were concentred in the +gloomy streets of a town in those days choked up +within its narrow girdle of fortifications. The most +peculiar feature about this small dark town is, that it +lies exactly between two broad seas of light, between +the marvellous mirror of its roadstead and its glorious +amphitheatre of mountains, baldheaded, of a dazzling +grey, that blinds you in the noonday sun. All the +gloomier look the streets themselves. Such as do not +lead straight to the harbour and draw some light +therefrom, are plunged at all hours in deep gloom. +Filthy byeways, and small tradesmen with shops ill-furnished, +invisible to anyone coming for the day,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +such is the general aspect of the place. The interior +forms a maze of passages in which you may find plenty +of churches, and old convents now turned into barracks. +Copious kennels, laden and foul with sewage +water, run down in torrents. The air is almost stagnant, +and in so dry a climate you are surprised at +seeing so much moisture.</p> + +<p>In front of the new theatre a passage called La +Rue de l’Hôpital leads from the narrow Rue Royale +into the narrow Rue des Cannoniers. It might almost +be called a blind alley. The sun, however, just looks +down upon it at noon, but, finding the place so dismal, +passes on forthwith, and leaves the passage to its +wonted darkness.</p> + +<p>Among these gloomy dwellings the smallest was that +of the Sister Cadière, a retail dealer, or huckster. +There was no entrance but by the shop, and only one +room on each floor. The Cadières were honest pious +folk, and Madame Cadière the mirror of excellence +itself. These good people were not altogether poor. +Besides their small dwelling in the town, they too, +like most of their fellow-townsmen, had a country-house +of their own. This latter is, commonly, a +mere hut, a little stony plot of ground yielding a +little wine. In the days of its naval greatness, under +Colbert and his son, the wondrous bustle in the harbour +brought some profit to the town. French money +flowed in. The many great lords who passed that +way brought their households along with them, an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> +army of wasteful domestics, who left a good many +things behind them. All this came to a sudden end. +The artificial movement stopped short: even the +workmen at the arsenal could no longer get their +wages; shattered vessels were left unrepaired; and at +last the timbers themselves were sold.</p> + +<p>Toulon was keenly sensible of the rebound. At +the siege of 1707 it seemed as if dead. What, then, +was it in the dreadful year 1709, the 71st of Louis +XIV., when every plague at once, a hard winter, a +famine, and an epidemic, seemed bent on utterly destroying +France? The very trees of Provence were +not spared. All traffic came to an end. The roads +were covered with starving beggars. Begirt with +bandits who stopped up every outlet, Toulon quaked +for fear.</p> + +<p>To crown all, Madame Cadière, in this year of +sorrow, was with child. Three boys she had borne +already. The eldest stayed in the shop to help his +father. The second was with the Friar Preachers, and +destined to become a Dominican, or a Jacobin as they +were then called. The third was studying in the +Jesuit seminary as a priest to be. The wedded couple +wanted a daughter; Madame prayed to Heaven for a +saint. She spent her nine months in prayer, fasting, +or eating nought but rye bread. She had a daughter, +namely Catherine. The babe was very delicate and, +like her brothers, unhealthy. The dampness of an +ill-aired dwelling, and the poor nourishment gained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +from a mother so thrifty and more than temperate, had +something to do with this. The brothers had scrofulous +glands, and in her earlier years the little thing +suffered from the same cause. Without being altogether +ill, she had all the suffering sweetness of a sickly +child. She grew up without growing stronger. At +an age when other children have all the strength and +gladness of upswelling life in them, she was already +saying, “I have not long to live.”</p> + +<p>She took the small-pox, which left her rather marked. +I know not if she was handsome, but it is clear that +she was very winning, with all the charming contrasts, +the twofold nature of the maidens of Provence. Lively +and pensive, gay and sad, by turns, she was a good +little worshipper, but given to harmless pranks withal. +Between the long church services, if she went into the +country with girls of her own age, she made no fuss +about doing as they did, but would sing and dance +away and flourish her tambourine. But such days +were few. Most times her chief delight was to climb +up to the top of the house, to bring herself nearer +heaven, to obtain a glimpse of daylight, to look out, +perhaps, on some small strip of sea, or some pointed +peak in the vast wilderness of hills. Thenceforth to +her eyes they were serious still, but less unkindly than +before, less bald and leafless, in a garment thinly +strewn with arbutus and larch.</p> + +<p>This dead town of Toulon numbered 26,000 inhabitants +when the plague began. It was a huge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +throng cooped up in one spot. But from this centre +let us take away a girdle of great convents with their +backs upon the ramparts, convents of Minorites, +Ursulines, Visitandines, Bernardines, Oratorians, +Jesuits, Capuchins, Recollects; those of the Refuge, +the Good Shepherd, and, midmost of all, the enormous +convent of Dominicans. Add to these the parish +churches, parsonages, bishop’s palace, and it seems +that the clergy filled up the place, while the people +had no room at all, to speak of.<a name="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a></p> + +<p>On a centre so closely thronged, we may guess how +savagely the plague would fasten. Toulon’s kind heart +was also to prove her bane. She received with generous +warmth some fugitives from Marseilles. These are just +as likely to have brought the plague with them, as certain +bales of wool to which was traced the first appearance +of that scourge. The chief men of the place were +about to fly, to scatter themselves over the country. +But the First Consul, M. d’Antrechaus, a man of heroic +soul, withheld them, saying, with a stern air, “And +what will the people do, sirs, in this impoverished town, +if the rich folk carry their purses away?” So he held +them back, and compelled all persons to stay where +they were. Now the horrors of Marseilles had been +ascribed to the mutual intercourse of its inhabitants. +D’Antrechaus, however, tried a system entirely the +reverse, tried to isolate the people of Toulon, by shutting +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>them up in their houses. Two huge hospitals +were established, in the roadstead and in the hills. All +who did not come to these, had to keep at home on +pain of death. For seven long months D’Antrechaus +carried out a wager, which would have been held impossible, +the keeping, namely, and feeding in their own +houses, of a people numbering 26,000 souls. All that +time Toulon was one vast tomb. No one stirred save +in the morning, to deal out bread from door to door, +and then to carry off the dead. Most of the doctors +perished, and the magistrates all but D’Antrechaus. +The gravediggers also perished, and their places were +filled by condemned deserters, who went to work with +brutal and headlong violence. Bodies were thrown into +the tumbril, head downwards, from the fourth storey. +One mother, having just lost her little girl, shrunk +from seeing her poor wee body thus hurled below, and +by dint of bribing, managed to get it lowered the +proper way. As they were bearing it off, the child +came to; it lived still. They took her up again, and +she survived, to become the grandmother of the learned +M. Brun, who wrote an excellent history of the port.</p> + +<p>Poor little Cadière was exactly the same age as this +girl who died and lived again, being twelve years old, +an age for her sex so full of danger. In the general +closing of the churches, in the putting down of all +holidays, and chiefly of Christmas, wont to be so merry +a season at Toulon, the child’s fancy saw the end of all +things. It seems as though she never quite shook off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +that fancy. Toulon never raised her head again. She +retained her desert-like air. Everything was in ruins, +everyone in mourning; widowers, orphans, desperate +beings were everywhere seen. In the midst, a mighty +shadow, moved D’Antrechaus himself; he had seen all +about him perish, his sons, his brothers, and his colleagues; +and was now so gloriously ruined, that he was +fain to look to his neighbours for his daily meals. The +poor quarrelled among themselves for the honour of +feeding him.</p> + +<p>The young girl told her mother that she would never +more wear any of her smarter clothes, and she must, +therefore, sell them. She would do nothing but wait +upon the sick, and she was always dragging her to the +hospital at the end of the street. A little neighbour-girl +of fourteen, Laugier by name, who had lost her +father, was living with her mother in great wretchedness. +Catherine was continually going to them with +food and clothes, and anything she could get for them. +She begged her parents to defray the cost of +apprenticing Laugier to a dressmaker; and such was +her sway over them that they could not refuse to incur +so heavy an outlay. Her piety, her many little charms +of soul, rendered her all-powerful. She was impassioned +in her charity, giving not alms only, but love as +well. She longed to make Laugier perfect, rejoiced to +have her by her side, and often gave her half her bed. +The pair had been admitted among the <i>Daughters of +Saint Theresa</i>, the third order established by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> +Carmelites. Mdlle. Cadière was their model nun, and +seemed at thirteen a Carmelite complete. Already she +devoured some books of mysticism borrowed from a +Visitandine. In marked contrast with herself seemed +Laugier, now a girl of fifteen, who would do nothing +but eat and look handsome. So indeed she was, and +on that account had been made sextoness to the chapel +of Saint Theresa. This led her into great familiarities +with the priests, and so, when her conduct called for +her expulsion from the congregation, another authority, +the vicar-general, flew into such a rage as to declare +that, if she were expelled, the chapel itself would be +interdicted.</p> + +<p>Both these girls had the temperament of their +country, suffering from great excitement of the nerves, +and from what was called flatulence of the womb. But +in each the result was entirely different; being very +carnal in the case of Laugier, who was gluttonous, lazy, +passionate; but wholly cerebral with regard to the pure +and gentle Catherine, who owing to her ailments or to +a lively imagination that took everything up into itself, +had no ideas concerning sex. “At twenty she was like +a child of seven.” For nothing cared she but praying +and giving of alms; she had no wish at all to marry. +At the very word “marriage,” she would fall a-weeping, +as if she had been asked to abandon God.</p> + +<p>They had lent her the life of her patroness, Catherine +of Genoa, and she had bought for herself <i>The Castle of +the Soul</i>, by St. Theresa. Few confessors could follow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +her in these mystic flights. They who spoke clumsily +of such things gave her pain. She could not keep +either her mother’s confessor, the cathedral-priest, or +another, a Carmelite, or even the old Jesuit Sabatier. +At sixteen she found a priest of Saint Louis, a highly +spiritual person. She spent days in church, to such a +degree that her mother, by this time a widow and +often in want of her, had to punish her, for all her +own piety, on her return home. It was not the girl’s +fault, however: during her ecstasies she quite forgot +herself. So great a saint was she accounted by the +girls of her own age, that sometimes at mass they +seemed to see the Host drawn on by the moving +power of her love, until it flew up and placed itself of +its own accord in her mouth.</p> + +<p>Her two young brothers differed from each other in +their feelings towards Girard. The elder, who lived +with the Friar Preachers, shared the natural dislike of +all Dominicans for the Jesuit. The other, who was +studying with the Jesuits in order to become a priest, +regarded Girard as a great man, a very saint, a man to +honour as a hero. Of this younger brother, sickly +like herself, Catherine was very fond. His ceaseless +talking about Girard was sure to do its work upon +her. One day she met the father in the street. He +looked so grave, but so good and mild withal, that a +voice within her said, “Behold the man to whose +guidance thou art given!” The next Saturday, when +she came to confess to him, he said that he had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> +expecting her. In her amazed emotion she never +dreamed that her brother might have given him +warning, but fancied that the mysterious voice had +spoken to him also, and that they two were sharing the +heavenly communion of warnings from the world +above.</p> + +<p>Six months of summer passed away, and yet Girard, +who confessed her every Saturday, had taken no step +towards her. The scandal about old Sabatier had set +him on his guard. His own prudence would have +held him to an attachment of a darker kind for such a +one as the Guiol, who was certainly very mature, but +also ardent and a devil incarnate.</p> + +<p>It was Cadière who made the first advances towards +him, innocent as they were. Her brother, the giddy +Jacobin, had taken it into his head to lend a lady and +circulate through the town a satire called <i>The Morality +of the Jesuits</i>. The latter were soon apprised of this. +Sabatier swore that he would write to the Court for a +sealed order (lettre-de-cachet) to shut up the Jacobin. +In her trouble and alarm, his sister, with tears in her +eyes, went to beseech Father Girard for pity’s sake to +interfere. On her coming again to him a little later, +he said, “Make yourself easy; your brother has +nothing to fear; I have settled the matter for him.” +She was quite overcome. Girard saw his advantage. +A man of his influence, a friend of the King, a friend of +Heaven as well, after such proof of goodness as he had +just been giving, would surely have the very strongest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> +sway over so young a heart! He made the venture, +and in her own uncertain language said to her, “Put +yourself in my hands; yield yourself up to me altogether.” +Without a blush she answered, in the fulness +of her angelic purity, “Yes;” meaning nought else +than to have him for her sole director.</p> + +<p>What were his plans concerning her? Would he +make her a mistress or the tool of his charlatanry? +Girard doubtless swayed to and fro, but he leant, I +think, most towards the latter idea. He had to make +his choice, might manage to seek out pleasures free +from risk. But Mdlle. Cadière was under a pious +mother. She lived with her family, a married brother +and the two churchmen, in a very confined house, whose +only entrance lay through the shop of the elder +brother. She went no whither except to church. +With all her simplicity she knew instinctively what +things were impure, what houses dangerous. The +Jesuit penitents were fond of meeting together at the +top of a house, to eat, and play the fool, and cry out, in +their Provencial tongue, “Vivent les <i>Jesuitons</i>!” A +neighbour, disturbed by their noise, went and found +them lying on their faces, singing and eating fritters, +all paid for, it was said, out of the alms-money. Cadière +was also invited, but taking a disgust to the +thing she never went a second time.</p> + +<p>She was assailable only through her soul. And +it was only her soul that Girard seemed to desire. +That she should accept those lessons of passive faith<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +which he had taught at Marseilles, this apparently was +all his aim. Hoping that example would do more for +him than precept, he charged his tool Guiol to escort +the young saint to Marseilles, where lived the friend of +Cadière’s childhood, a Carmelite nun, a daughter of +Guiol’s. The artful woman sought to win her trust by +pretending that she, too, was sometimes ecstatic. She +crammed her with absurd stories. She told her, for +instance, that on finding a cask of wine spoilt in her +cellar, she began to pray, and immediately the wine +became good. Another time she felt herself pierced by +a crown of thorns, but the angels had comforted her by +serving up a good dinner, of which she partook with +Father Girard.</p> + +<p>Cadière gained her mother’s leave to go with this +worthy Guiol to Marseilles, and Madame Cadière paid +her expenses. It was now the most scorching month—that +of August, 1729—in a scorching climate, when +the country was all dried up, and the eye could see +nothing but a rugged mirror of rocks and flintstone. +The weak, parched brain of a sick girl suffering from the +fatigues of travel, was all the more easily impressed by +the dismal air of a nunnery of the dead. The true +type of this class was the Sister Remusat, already a +corpse to outward seeming, and soon to be really dead. +Cadière was moved to admire so lofty a piece of perfection. +Her treacherous companion allured her with +the proud conceit of being such another and filling her +place anon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> + +<p>During this short trip of hers, Girard, who remained +amid the stifling heats of Toulon, had met with a dismal +fall. He would often go to the girl Laugier, who +believed herself to be ecstatic, and “comfort” her to +such good purpose that he got her presently with +child. When Mdlle. Cadière came back in the highest +ecstasy, as if like to soar away, he for his part was +become so carnal, so given up to pleasure, that he “let +fall on her ears a whisper of love.” Thereat she took +fire, but all, as anyone may see, in her own pure, saintly, +generous way; as eager to keep him from falling, as +devoting herself even to die for his sake.</p> + +<p>One of her saintly gifts was her power of seeing +into the depths of men’s hearts. She had sometimes +chanced to learn the secret life and morals of her confessors, +to tell them of their faults; and this, in their +fear and amazement, many of them had borne with +great humility. One day this summer, on seeing +Guiol come into her room, she suddenly said, “Wicked +woman! what have you been doing?”</p> + +<p>“And she was right,” said Guiol herself, at a later +period; “for I had just been doing an evil deed.” +Perhaps she had just been rendering Laugier the same +midwife’s service which next year she wished to render +Batarelle.</p> + +<p>Very likely, indeed, Laugier had entrusted to Catherine, +at whose house she often slept, the secret of +her good fortune, the love, the fatherly caresses of her +saint. It was a hard and stormy trial for Catherine’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> +spirits. On the one side, she had learnt by heart +Girard’s maxim, that whatever a saint may do is holy. +But on the other hand, her native honesty and the +whole course of her education compelled her to believe +that over-fondness for the creature was ever a mortal +sin. This woeful tossing between two different doctrines +quite finished the poor girl, brought on within +her dreadful storms, until at last she fancied herself +possessed with a devil.</p> + +<p>And here her goodness of heart was made manifest. +Without humbling Girard, she told him she had a +vision of a soul tormented with impure thoughts and +deadly sin; that she felt the need of rescuing that +soul, by offering the Devil victim for victim, by agreeing +to yield herself into his keeping in Girard’s stead. +He never forbade her, but gave her leave to be possessed +for one year only.</p> + +<p>Like the rest of the town, she had heard of the +scandalous loves of Father Sabatier—an insolent passionate +man, with none of Girard’s prudence. The +scorn which the Jesuits—to her mind, such pillars of +the Church—were sure to incur, had not escaped her +notice. She said one day to Girard, “I had a vision +of a gloomy sea, with a vessel full of souls tossed by +a storm of unclean thoughts. On this vessel were +two Jesuits. Said I to the Redeemer, whom I saw in +heaven, ‘Lord, save them, and let me drown! The +whole of their shipwreck do I take upon myself,’ And +God, in His mercy, granted my prayer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>All through the trial, and when Girard, become her +foe, was aiming at her death, she never once recurred +to this subject. These two parables, so clear in meaning, +she never explained. She was too high-minded +to say a word about them. She had doomed herself to +very damnation. Some will say that in her pride she +deemed herself so deadened and impassive as to defy +the impurity with which the Demon troubled a man of +God. But it is quite clear that she had no accurate +knowledge of sensual things, foreseeing nought in +such a mystery save pains and torments of the Devil. +Girard was very cold, and quite unworthy of all this +sacrifice. Instead of being moved to compassion, he +sported with her credulity through a vile deceit. Into +her casket he slipped a paper, in which God declared +that, for her sake, He would indeed save the vessel. +But he took care not to leave so absurd a document +there: she would have read it again and again +until she came to perceive how spurious it was. The +angel who brought the paper carried it off the next +day.</p> + +<p>With the same coarseness of feeling Girard lightly +allowed her, all unsettled and incapable of praying as +she plainly was, to communicate as much as she pleased +in different churches every day. This only made her +worse. Filled already with the Demon, she harboured +the two foes in one place. With equal power they +fought within her against each other. She thought +she would burst asunder. She would fall into a dead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +faint, and so remain for several hours. By December +she could not move even from her bed.</p> + +<p>Girard had now but too good a plea for seeing her. +He was prudent enough to let himself be led by the +younger brother at least as far as her door. The sick +girl’s room was at the top of the house. Her mother +stayed discreetly in the shop. He was left alone as +long as he pleased, and if he chose could turn the key. +At this time she was very ill. He handled her +as a child, drawing her forward a little to the front of the +bed, holding her head, and kissing her in a fatherly +way.</p> + +<p>She was very pure, but very sensitive. A slight +touch, that no one else would have remarked, deprived +her of her senses: this Girard found out for himself, +and the knowledge of it possessed him with evil +thoughts. He threw her at will into this trance,<a name="FNanchor_110_110" id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> and +she, in her thorough trust in him, never thought of +trying to prevent it, feeling only somewhat troubled +and ashamed at causing such a man to waste upon her +so much of his precious time. His visits were very +long. It was easy to foresee what would happen at +last. Ill as she was, the poor girl inspired Girard with +a passion none the less wild and uncontrollable. One +freedom led to another, and her plaintive remonstrances +were met with scornful replies. “I am your master—your +god. You must bear all for obedience sake.” +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>At length, about Christmas-time, the last barrier of +reserve was broken down; and the poor girl awoke +from her trance to utter a wail which moved even him +to pity.</p> + +<p>An issue which she but dimly realized, Girard, as +better enlightened, viewed with growing alarm. Signs +of what was coming began to show themselves in her +bodily health. To crown the entanglement, Laugier +also found herself with child. Those religious meetings, +those suppers watered with the light wine of the +country, led to a natural raising of the spirits of a race +so excitable, and the trance that followed spread from +one to another. With the more artful all this was +mere sham; but with the sanguine, vehement Laugier +the trance was genuine enough. In her own little +room she had real fits of raving and swooning, especially +when Girard came in. A little later than Cadière she, +too became fruitful.</p> + +<p>The danger was great. The girls were neither in a +desert nor in the heart of a convent, but rather, as one +might say, in the open street: Laugier in the midst +of prying neighbours, Cadière in her own family. +The latter’s brother, the Jacobin, began to take +Girard’s long visits amiss. One day when Girard +came, he ventured to stay beside her as though to +watch over her safety. Girard boldly turned him out +of the room, and the mother angrily drove her son +from the house.</p> + +<p>This was very like to bring on an explosion. Of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> +course, the young man, swelling with rage at this hard +usage, at this expulsion from his home, would cry +aloud to the Preaching Friars, who in their turn would +seize so fair an opening, to go about repeating the +story and stirring up the whole town against the +Jesuit. The latter, however, resolved to meet them +with a strangely daring move, to save himself by a +crime. The libertine became a scoundrel.</p> + +<p>He knew his victim, had seen the scrofulous traces +of her childhood, traces healed up but still looking +different from common scars. Some of these were on +her feet, others a little below her bosom. He formed +a devilish plan of renewing the wounds and passing +them off as “<i>stigmata</i>,” like those procured from +heaven by St. Francis and other saints, who sought +after the closest conformity with their pattern, the +crucified Redeemer, even to bearing on themselves +the marks of the nails and the spear-wound in the +side. The Jesuits were distressed at having nought +to show against the miracles of the Jansenists. Girard +felt sure of pleasing them by an unlooked-for miracle. +He could not but receive the support of his own order, +of their house at Toulon. One of them, old Sabatier, +was ready to believe anything: he had of yore been +Cadière’s confessor, and this affair would bring him +into credit. Another of these was Father Grignet, a +pious old dotard, who would see whatever they pleased. +If the Carmelites or any others were minded to have +their doubts, they might be taught, by warnings from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +a high quarter, to consult their safety by keeping +silence. Even the Jacobin Cadière, hitherto a stern +and jealous foe, might find his account in turning +round and believing in a tale which made his family +illustrious and himself the brother of a saint.</p> + +<p>“But,” some will say, “did not the thing come +naturally? We have instances numberless, and well-attested, +of persons really marked with the sacred +wounds.”</p> + +<p>The reverse is more likely. When she was aware +of the new wounds, she felt ashamed and distressed +with the fear of displeasing Girard by this return of +her childish ailments; for such she deemed the sores +which he had opened afresh while she lay unconscious +in the trance. So she sped away to a neighbour, one +Madame Truc, who dabbled in physic, and of her she +bought, as if for her youngest brother, an ointment to +burn away the sores.</p> + +<p>She would have thought herself guilty of a great sin, +if she had not told everything to Girard. So, however +fearful she might be of displeasing and disgusting +him, she spoke of this matter also. Looking at the +wounds, he began playing his comedy, rebuked her +attempt to heal them, and thus set herself against God. +They were the marks, he said, of Heaven. Falling on +his knees, he kissed the wounds on her feet. She +crossed herself in self-abasement, struggled long-time +against such a belief. Girard presses and scolds, +makes her show him her side, and looks admiringly at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +the wound. “I, too,” he said, “have a wound; +but mine is within.”</p> + +<p>And now she is fain to believe in herself as a living +miracle. Her acceptance of a thing so startling was +greatly quickened by the fact, that Sister Remusat was +just then dead. She had seen her in glory, her heart +borne upward by the angels. Who was to take her +place on earth? Who should inherit her high gifts, +the heavenly favours wherewith she had been crowned? +Girard offered her the succession, corrupting her +through her pride.</p> + +<p>From that time she was changed. In her vanity +she set down every natural movement within her as +holy. The loathings, the sudden starts of a woman +great with child, of all which she knew nothing, were +accounted for as inward struggles of the Spirit. As +she sat at table with her family on the first day of +Lent, she suddenly beheld the Saviour, who said, “I +will lead thee into the desert, where thou shalt share +with Me all the love and all the suffering of the holy +Forty Days.” She shuddered for dread of the suffering +she must undergo. But still she would offer up +her single self for a whole world of sinners. Her +visions were all of blood; she had nothing but blood +before her eyes. She beheld Jesus like a sieve running +blood. She herself began to spit blood, and lose it in +other ways. At the same time her nature seemed +quite changed. The more she suffered, the more +amorous she grew. On the twentieth day of Lent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> +she saw her name coupled with that of Girard. Her +pride, raised and quickened by these new sensations, +enabled her to comprehend the <i>special sway</i> enjoyed +by Mary, the Woman, with respect to God. She felt +<i>how much lower angels are</i> than the least of saints, +male or female. She saw the Palace of Glory, and +mistook herself for the Lamb. To crown these illusions +she felt herself lifted off the ground, several feet into +the air. She could hardly believe it, until Mdlle. +Gravier, a respectable person, assured her of the fact. +Everyone came, admired, worshipped. Girard brought +his colleague Grignet, who knelt before her and wept +with joy.</p> + +<p>Not daring to go to her every day, Girard often made +her come to the Jesuits’ Church. There, before the +altar, before the cross, he surrendered himself to a +passion all the fiercer for such a sacrilege. Had she +no scruples? did she still deceive herself? It seems as +if, in the midst of an elation still unfeigned and earnest, +her conscience was already dazed and darkened. +Under cover of her bleeding wounds, those cruel favours +of her heavenly Spouse, she began to feel some curious +compensations....</p> + +<p>In her reveries there are two points especially touching. +One is the pure ideal she had formed of a faithful +union, when she fancied that she saw her name +and that of Girard joined together for ever in the Book +of Life. The other is her kindliness of heart, the +charmingly childlike nature which shines out through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> +all her extravagances. On Palm Sunday, looking at +the joyous party around their family table, she wept +three hours together, for thinking that “on that very +day no one had asked Jesus to dinner.”</p> + +<p>Through all that Lent, she could hardly eat anything: +the little she took was thrown up again. The last +fifteen days she fasted altogether, until she reached the +last stage of weakness. Who would have believed that +against this dying girl, to whom nothing remained but +the mere breath, Girard could practise new barbarities? +He had kept her sores from closing. A new one was +now formed on her right side. And at last, on Good +Friday, he gave the finishing touch to his cruel +comedy, by making her wear a crown of iron-wire, +which pierced her forehead, until drops of blood rolled +down her face. All this was done without much +secresy. He began by cutting off her long hair and +carrying it away. He ordered the crown of one +Bitard, a cagemaker in the town. She did not show +herself to her visitors with the crown on: they saw +the result only, the drops of blood and the bleeding +visage. Impressions of the latter, like so many <i>Veronicas</i>,<a name="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> +were taken off on napkins, and doubtless given +away by Girard to people of great piety.</p> + +<p>The mother, in her own despite, became an abettor +in all this juggling. In truth, she was afraid of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>Girard; she began to find him capable of anything, +and somebody, perhaps the Guiol, had told her, in the +deepest confidence, that, if she said a word against him, +her daughter would not be alive twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>Cadière, for her part, never lied about the matter. +In the narrative taken down from her own lips of +what happened this Lent, she expressly tells of a +crown, with sharp points, which stuck in her head, and +made it bleed. Nor did she then make any secret of +the source whence came the little crosses she gave her +visitors. From a model supplied by Girard, they were +made to her order by one of her kinsfolk, a carpenter +in the Arsenal.</p> + +<p>On Good Friday, she remained twenty-four hours in +a swoon, which they called a trance; remained in +special charge of Girard, whose attentions weakened +her, and did her deadly harm. She was now three +months gone with child. The saintly martyr, the +transfigured marvel, was already beginning to fill out. +Desiring, yet dreading the more violent issues of +a miscarriage, he plied her daily with reddish powders +and dangerous drinks.</p> + +<p>Much rather would he have had her die, and so have +rid himself of the whole business. At any rate, he +would have liked to get her away from her mother, to +bury her safe in a convent. Well acquainted with +houses of that sort, he knew, as Picard had done in the +Louviers affair, how cleverly and discreetly such cases +as Cadière’s could be hidden away. He talked of it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> +this very Good Friday. But she seemed too weak to +be taken safely from her bed. At last, however, four +days after Easter, a miscarriage took place.</p> + +<p>The girl Laugier had also been having strange +convulsive fits, and absurd beginnings of <i>stigmata</i>: +one of them being an old wound, caused by her +scissors when she was working as a seamstress, the +other an eruptive sore in her side. Her transports +suddenly turned to impious despair. She spat upon +the crucifix: she cried out against Girard, “that devil +of a priest, who had brought a poor girl of two-and-twenty +into such a plight, only to forsake her afterwards!” +Girard dared not go and face her passionate +outbreaks. But the women about her, being all in +his interest, found some way of bringing this matter +to a quiet issue.</p> + +<p>Was Girard a wizard, as people afterwards maintained? +They might well think so, who saw how +easily, being neither young nor handsome, he had +charmed so many women. Stranger still it was, that +after getting thus compromised, he swayed opinion to +such a degree. For a while, he seemed to have +enchanted the whole town.</p> + +<p>The truth was, that everyone knew the strength of +the Jesuits. Nobody cared to quarrel with them. It +was hardly reckoned safe to speak ill of them, even in +a whisper. The bulk of the priesthood consisted of +monklings of the Mendicant orders, who had no +powerful friends or high connections. The Carmelites<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> +themselves, jealous and hurt as they were at losing +Cadière, kept silence. Her brother, the young Jacobin, +was lectured by his trembling mother into resuming +his old circumspect ways. Becoming reconciled to +Girard, he came at length to serve him as devotedly +as did his younger brother, even lending himself to a +curious trick by which people were led to believe that +Girard had the gift of prophecy.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Such weak opposition as he might have to fear, +would come only from the very person whom he seemed +to have most thoroughly mastered. Submissive hitherto, +Cadière now gave some slight tokens of a coming +independence which could not help showing itself. On +the 30th of April, at a country party got up by the +polite Girard, and to which he sent his troop of young +devotees in company with Guiol, Cadière fell into deep +thought. The fair spring-time, in that climate so very +charming, lifted her heart up to God. She exclaimed +with a feeling of true piety, “Thee, Thee only, do I +seek, O Lord! Thine angels are not enough for me.” +Then one of the party, a blithesome girl, having, in the +Provencial fashion, hung a tambourine round her neck, +Cadière skipped and danced about like the rest; with +a rug thrown across her shoulders, she danced the +Bohemian measure, and made herself giddy with a +hundred mad capers.</p> + +<p>She was very unsettled. In May she got leave from +her mother to make a trip to Sainte-Baume, to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> +Church of St. Mary Magdalen, the chief saint of girls +on penance. Girard would only let her go under +charge of two faithful overlookers, Guiol and Reboul. +But though she had still some trances on the way, she +showed herself weary of being a passive tool to the +violent spirit, whether divine or devilish, that annoyed +her. The end of her year’s <i>possession</i> was not far off. +Had she not won her freedom? Once issued forth +from the gloom and witcheries of Toulon, into the open +air, in the midst of nature, beneath the full sunshine, +the prisoner regained her soul, withstood the stranger +spirit, dared to be herself, to use her own will. +Girard’s two spies were far from edified thereat. On +their return from this short journey, from the 17th +to the 22nd May, they warned him of the change. +He was convinced of it from his own experience. She +fought against the trance, seeming no longer wishful +to obey aught save reason.</p> + +<p>He had thought to hold her both by his power of +charming and through the holiness of his high office, +and, lastly, by right of possession and carnal usage. +But he had no hold upon her at all. The youthful +soul, which, after all, had not been so much conquered +as treacherously surprised, resumed its own nature. +This hurt him. Besides his business of pedant, his +tyranny over the children he chastised at will, over +nuns not less at his disposal, there remained within +a hard bottom of domineering jealousy. He determined +to snatch Cadière back by punishing this first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> +little revolt, if such a name could be given to the +timid fluttering of a soul rising again from its long +compression. On the 22nd May she confessed to +him after her wont; but he refused to absolve her, +declaring her to be so guilty that on the morrow +he would have to lay upon her a very great penance +indeed.</p> + +<p>What would that be? A fast? But she was weakened +and wasted already. Long prayers, again, were +not in fashion with Quietist directors,—were in fact +forbidden. There remained the <i>discipline</i>, or bodily +chastisement. This punishment, then everywhere +habitual, was enforced as prodigally in convents as in +colleges. It was a simple and summary means of +swift execution, sometimes, in a rude and simple age, +carried out in the churches themselves. The <i>Fabliaux</i> +show us an artless picture of manners, where, after confessing +husband and wife, the priest gave them the +discipline without any ceremony, just as they were, +behind the confessional. Scholars, monks, nuns, were +all punished in the same way.<a name="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span></p> +<p>Girard knew that a girl like Cadière, all unused to +shame, and very modest—for what she had hitherto +suffered took place unknown to herself in her sleep—would +feel so cruelly tortured, so fatally crushed by +this unseemly chastisement, as utterly to lose what +little buoyancy she had. She was pretty sure too, if +we must speak out, to be yet more cruelly mortified +than other women, in respect of the pang endured by +her woman’s vanity. With so much suffering, and so +many fasts, followed by her late miscarriage, her body, +always delicate, seemed worn away to a shadow. All +the more surely would she shrink from any exposure +of a form so lean, so wasted, so full of aches. Her +swollen legs and such-like small infirmities would serve +to enhance her humiliation.</p> + +<p>We lack the courage to relate what followed. It +may all be read in those three depositions, so artless, +so manifestly unfeigned, in which, without being +sworn, she made it her duty to avow what self-interest +bade her conceal, owning even to things which were +afterwards turned to the cruellest account against +her.</p> + +<p>Her first deposition was made on the spur of the +moment, before the spiritual judge who was sent to +take her by surprise. In this we seem to be ever +hearing the utterances of a young heart that speaks as +though in God’s own presence. The second was taken +before the King—I should rather say before the magistrate +who represented him, the Lieutenant Civil and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> +Criminal of Toulon. The last was heard before the +great assembly of the Parliament of Aix.</p> + +<p>Observe that all three, agreeing as they do wonderfully +together, were printed at Aix under the eye of +her enemies, in a volume where, as I shall presently +prove, an attempt was made to extenuate the guilt of +Girard, and fasten the reader’s gaze on every point +likely to tell against Cadière. And yet the editor +could not help inserting depositions like these, which +bear with crushing weight on the man he sought to +uphold.</p> + +<p>It was a monstrous piece of inconsistency on Girard’s +part. He first frightened the poor girl, and then +suddenly took a base, a cruel advantage of her fears.</p> + +<p>In this case no plea of love can be offered in extenuation. +The truth is far otherwise: he loved her +no more. And this forms the most dreadful part of +the story. We have seen how cruelly he drugged her; +we have now to see her utterly forsaken. He owed her +a grudge for being of greater worth than those other +degraded women. He owed her a grudge for having +unwittingly tempted him and brought him into danger. +Above all, he could not forgive her for keeping her +soul in safety. He sought only to tame her down, but +caught hopefully at her oft-renewed assurance, “I feel +that I shall not live.” Villanous profligate that he +was, bestowing his shameful kisses on that poor +shattered body whose death he longed to see!</p> + +<p>How did he account to her for this shocking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> +antagonism of cruelty and caresses? Was it meant +to try her patience and obedience, or did he boldly +pass on to the true depths of Molinos’ teaching, that +“only by dint of sinning can sin be quelled”? Did +she take it all in full earnest, never perceiving that all +this show of justice, penitence, expiation, was downright +profligacy and nothing else?</p> + +<p>She did not care to understand him in the strange +moral crash that befell her after that 23rd May, under +the influence of a mild warm June. She submitted to +her master, of whom she was rather afraid, and with a +singularly servile passion carried on the farce of undergoing +small penances day by day. So little regard did +Girard show for her feelings that he never hid from +her his relations with other women. All he wanted +was to get her into a convent. Meanwhile she was +his plaything: she saw him, let him have his way. +Weak, and yet further weakened by the shame that +unnerved her, growing sadder and more sad at heart, +she had now but little hold on life, and would keep on +saying, in words that brought no sorrow to Girard’s +soul, “I feel that I shall soon be dead.”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_107_107" id="Footnote_107_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> The great plague of 1720, which carried off 60,000 people +about Marseilles. Belzunce is the “Marseilles’ good bishop” +of Pope’s line—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_108_108" id="Footnote_108_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> See “The Proceedings in the Affair of Father Girard and +La Cadière,” Aix, 1733.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_109_109" id="Footnote_109_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> See the work by M. d’Antrechaus, and the excellent +treatise by M. Gustave Lambert.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_110_110" id="Footnote_110_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> A case of mesmerism applied to a very susceptible +patient.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_111_111" id="Footnote_111_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> After the saint of that name, whose handkerchief received +the impress of Christ’s countenance.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_112_112" id="Footnote_112_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> The Dauphin was cruelly flogged. A boy of fifteen, +according to St. Simon, died from the pain of a like infliction. +The prioress of the Abbey-in-the-Wood, pleaded before the King +against the “afflictive chastisement” threatened by her superior. +For the credit of the convent, she was spared the +public shame; but the superior, to whom she was consigned, +doubtless punished her in a quiet way. The immoral tendency +of such a practice became more and more manifest. Fear and +shame led to woeful entreaties and unworthy bargains.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_XI_2" id="CHAPTER_XI_2"></a>CHAPTER XI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>CADIERE IN THE CONVENT: 1730.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">The</span> Abbess of the Ollioules Convent was young for an +abbess, being only thirty-eight years old. She was +not wanting in mind. She was lively, swift alike in +love and in hatred, hurried away by her heart and her +senses also, endowed with very little of the tact and +the moderation needed for the governing of such a +body.</p> + +<p>This nunnery drew its livelihood from two sources. +On the one side, there came to it from Toulon two or +three nuns of consular families, who brought good +dowers with them, and therefore did what they +pleased. They lived with the Observantine monks who +had the ghostly direction of the convent. On the +other hand, these monks, whose order had spread to +Marseilles and many other places, picked up some +little boarders and novices who paid for their keep: a +contact full of danger and unpleasantness for the +children, as one may see by the Aubany affair.</p> + +<p>There was no real confinement, nor much internal +order. In the scorching summer nights of that +African climate, peculiarly oppressive and wearying in +the airless passes of Ollioules, nuns and novices went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> +to and fro with the greatest freedom. The very same +things were going on at Ollioules in 1730 which we +saw in 1630 at Loudun. The bulk of nuns, well-nigh +a dozen out of the fifteen who made up the house, +being rather forsaken by the monks, who preferred +ladies of loftier position, were poor creatures, sick at +heart, and disinherited, with nothing to console them +but tattling, child’s play, and other school-girls’ tricks.</p> + +<p>The abbess was afraid that Cadière would soon see +through all this. She made some demur about taking +her in. Anon, with some abruptness, she entirely +changed her cue. In a charming letter, all the more +flattering as sent so unexpectedly from such a lady to +so young a girl, she expressed a hope of her leaving +the ghostly guidance of Father Girard. The girl +was not, of course, to be transferred to her Observantines, +who were far from capable of the charge. +The abbess had formed the bold, enlivening idea of +taking her into her own hands and becoming her sole +director.</p> + +<p>She was very vain. Deeming herself more agreeable +than an old Jesuit confessor, she reckoned on +making this prodigy her own, on conquering her without +trouble. She would have worked the young saint +for the benefit of her house.</p> + +<p>She paid her the marked compliment of receiving +her on the threshold, at the street-door. She kissed +her, caught her up, led her into the abbess’s own fine +room, and bade her share it with herself. She was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> +charmed with her modesty, with her invalid grace, +with a certain strangeness at once mysterious and melting. +In that short journey the girl had suffered a +great deal. The abbess wanted to lay her down in +her own bed, saying she loved her so that she would +have them sleep together like sisters in one bed.</p> + +<p>For her purpose this was probably more than was +needful. It would have been quite enough to have the +saint under her own roof. She would now have too +much the look of a little favourite. The lady, however, +was surprised at the young girl’s hesitation, +which doubtless sprang from her modesty or her +humility; in part, perhaps, from a comparison of her +own ill-health with the young health and blooming +beauty of the other. But the abbess tenderly urged +her request.</p> + +<p>Under the influence of a fondling so close and so +continual, she deemed that Girard would be forgotten. +With all abbesses it had become the ruling fancy, the +pet ambition, to confess their own nuns, according to +the practice allowed by St. Theresa. By this pleasant +scheme of hers the same result would come out of +itself, the young woman telling her confessors only +of small things, but keeping the depths of her heart +for one particular person. Caressed continually by +one curious woman, at eventide, in the night, when +her head was on the pillow, she would have let out +many a secret, whether her own or another’s.</p> + +<p>From this living entanglement she could not free<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> +herself at the first. She slept with the abbess. The +latter thought she held her fast by a twofold tie, by +the opposite means employed on the saint and on the +woman; that is, on the nervous, sensitive, and, through +her weakness, perhaps sensual girl. Her story, her +sayings, whatever fell from her lips, were all written +down. From other sources she picked up the meanest +details of her physical life, and forwarded the report +thereof to Toulon. She would have made her an idol, +a pretty little pet doll. On a slope so slippery the +work of allurement doubtless moved apace. But the +girl had scruples and a kind of fear. She made one +great effort, of which her weak health would have +made her seem incapable. She humbly asked leave +to quit that dove’s-nest, that couch too soft and delicate, +to go and live in common with the novices or the +boarders.</p> + +<p>Great was the abbess’s surprise; great her mortification. +She fancied herself scorned. She took a +spite against the thankless girl, and never forgave her.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>From the others Cadière met with a very pleasant +welcome. The mistress of the novices, Madame de +Lescot, a nun from Paris, refined and good, was a +worthier woman than the abbess. She seemed to +understand the other—to see in her a poor prey of fate, +a young heart full of God, but cruelly branded by +some eccentric spell which seemed like to hurry her onward +to disgrace, to some unhappy end. She busied herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> +entirely with looking after the girl, saving her from +her own rashness, interpreting her to others, excusing +those things which might in her be least excusable.</p> + +<p>Saving the two or three noble ladies who lived with +the monks and had small relish for the higher mysticism, +they were all fond of her, and took her for an +angel from heaven. Their tender feelings having little +else to engage them, became concentred in her and +her alone. They found her not only pious and wonderfully +devout, but a good child withal, kind-hearted, +winning, and entertaining. They were no longer listless +and sick at heart. She engaged and edified them +with her dreams, with stories true, or rather, perhaps, +unfeigned, mingled ever with touches of purest tenderness. +She would say, “At night I go everywhere, +even to America. Everywhere I leave letters bidding +people repent. To-night I shall go and seek you out, +even when you have locked yourselves in. We will all +go together into the Sacred Heart.”</p> + +<p>The miracle was wrought. Each of them at midnight, +so she said, received the delightful visit. They +all fancied they felt Cadière embracing them, and +making them enter the heart of Jesus. They were +very frightened and very happy. Tenderest, most +credulous of all, was Sister Raimbaud, a woman of +Marseilles, who tasted this happiness fifteen times in +three months, or nearly once in every six days.</p> + +<p>It was purely the effect of imagination. The proof +is, that Cadière visited all of them at one same moment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> +The abbess meanwhile was hurt, being roused +at the first to jealousy by the thought that she only +had been left out, and afterwards feeling assured that, +lost as the girl might be in her own dreams, she would +get through so many intimate friends but too clear an +inkling into the scandals of the house.</p> + +<p>These were scarcely hidden from her at all. But as +nothing came to Cadière save by the way of spiritual +insight, she fancied they had been told her in a revelation. +Here her kindliness shone out. She felt a large +compassion for the God who was thus outraged. And +once again she imagined herself bound to atone for the +rest, to save the sinners from the punishment they deserved, +by draining herself the worst cruelties which +the rage of devils would have power to wreak.</p> + +<p>All this burst upon her on the 25th June, the +Feast of St. John. She was spending the evening with +the sisters in the novices’ rooms. With a loud cry she +fell backward in contortions, and lost all consciousness.</p> + +<p>When she came to, the novices surrounded her, waiting +eager to hear what she was going to say. But the +governess, Madame Lescot, guessed what she would +say, felt that she was about to ruin herself. So she +lifted her up, and led her straight to her room, where +she found herself quite flayed, and her linen covered +with blood.</p> + +<p>Why did Girard fail her amidst these struggles inward +and from without? She could not make him +out. She had much need of support, and yet he never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> +came, except for one moment at rare intervals, to the +parlour.</p> + +<p>She wrote to him on the 28th June, by her brothers; +for though she could read, she was scarcely +able to write. She called to him in the most stirring, +the most urgent tones, and he answers by putting her +off. He has to preach at Hyères, he has a sore throat, +and so on.</p> + +<p>Wonderful to tell, it is the abbess herself who brings +him thither. No doubt she was uneasy at Cadière’s +discovering so much of the inner life of the convent. +Making sure that the girl would talk of it to Girard, +she wished to forestal her. In a very flattering and +tender note of the 3rd July, she besought the Jesuit +to come and see herself first, for she longed, between +themselves, to be his pupil, his disciple, as humble +Nicodemus had been of Christ. “Under your guidance, +by the blessing of that holy freedom which my post +ensures me, I should move forward swiftly and noiselessly +in the path of virtue. The state of our young +candidate here will serve me as a fair and useful pretext.”</p> + +<p>A startling, ill-considered step, betraying some unsoundness +in the lady’s mind. Having failed to supplant +Girard with Cadière, she now essayed to supplant +Cadière with Girard. Abruptly, without the least preface, +she stepped forward. She made her decision, like +a great lady, who was still agreeable and quite sure of +being taken at her word, who would go so far as even +to talk of the <i>freedom</i> she enjoyed!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span></p> + +<p>In taking so false a step she started from a true belief +that Girard had ceased to care much for Cadière. +But she might have guessed that he had other things +to perplex him in Toulon. He was disturbed by an +affair no longer turning upon a young girl, but on a +lady of ripe age, easy circumstances, and good standing; +on his wisest penitent, Mdlle. Gravier. Her forty years +failed to protect her. He would have no self-governed +sheep in his fold. One day, to her surprise and mortification, +she found herself pregnant, and loud was +her wail thereat.</p> + +<p>Taken up with this new adventure, Girard looked +but coldly on the abbess’s unforeseen advances. He +mistrusted them as a trap laid for him by the Observantines. +He resolved to be cautious, saw the abbess, +who was already embarrassed by her rash step, and +then saw Cadière, but only in the chapel where he +confessed her.</p> + +<p>The latter was hurt by his want of warmth. In +truth his conduct showed strange inconsistencies. He +unsettled her with his light, agreeable letters, full of +little sportive threats which might have been called +lover-like. And yet he never deigned to see her save +in public.</p> + +<p>In a note written the same evening she revenged +herself in a very delicate way. She said that when +he granted her absolution, she felt wonderfully dissevered +both from herself and from <i>every other +creature</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was just what Girard would have wanted. His +plots had fallen into a sad tangle, and Cadière was in +the way. Her letter enchanted him: far from being +annoyed with her, he enjoined her to keep dissevered. +At the same time, he hinted at the need he had for +caution. He had received a letter, he said, warning +him sharply of her faults. However, as he would set +off on the 6th July for Marseilles, he would see +her on the road.</p> + +<p>She awaited him, but no Girard came. Her agitation +was very great. It brought on a sharp fit of her +old bodily distemper. She spoke of it to her dear +Sister Raimbaud, who would not leave her, who slept +with her, against the rules. This was on the night of +the 6th July, when the heat in that close oven of +Ollioules was most oppressive and condensed. At four +or five o’clock, seeing her writhe in sharp suffering, +the other “thought she had the colic, and went to +fetch some fire from the kitchen.” While she was +gone, Cadière tried by one last effort to bring Girard +to her side forthwith. Whether with her nails she +had re-opened the wounds in her head, or whether she +had stuck upon it the sharp iron crown, she somehow +made herself all bloody. The pain transfigured her, +until her eyes sparkled again.</p> + +<p>This lasted not less than two hours. The nuns +flocked to see her in this state, and gazed admiringly. +They would even have brought their Observantines +thither, had Cadière not prevented them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span></p> + +<p>The abbess would have taken good care to tell +Girard nothing, lest he should see her in a plight so +touching, so very pitiful. But good Madame Lescot +comforted the girl by sending the news to the father. +He came, but like a true juggler, instead of going up +to her room at once, had himself an ecstatic fit in the +chapel, staying there a whole hour on his knees, prostrate +before the Holy Sacrament. Going at length +upstairs, he found Cadière surrounded by all the nuns. +They tell him how for a moment she looked as if she +was at mass, how she seemed to open her lips to receive +the Host. “Who should know that better than +myself?” said the knave. “An angel had told me. +I repeated the mass, and gave her the sacrament from +Toulon.” They were so upset by the miracle, that +one of them was two days ill. Girard then addressed +Cadière with unseemly gaiety: “So, so, little glutton! +would you rob me of half my share?”</p> + +<p>They withdraw respectfully, leaving these two alone. +Behold him face to face with his bleeding victim, so +pale, so weak, but agitated all the more! Anyone +would have been greatly moved. The avowal expressed +by her blood, her wounds, rather than spoken words, +was likely to reach his heart. It was a humbling +sight; but who would not have pitied her? This +innocent girl could for one moment yield to +nature! In her short unhappy life, a stranger as she +was to the charms of sense, the poor young saint could +still show one hour of weakness! All he had hitherto<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> +enjoyed of her without her knowledge, became mere +nought. With her soul, her will, he would now be +master of everything.</p> + +<p>In her deposition Cadière briefly and bashfully +said that she lost all knowledge of what happened +next. In a confession made to one of her friends she +uttered no complaints, but let her understand the +truth.</p> + +<p>And what did Girard do in return for so charmingly +bold a flight of that impatient heart? He scolded +her. He was only chilled by a warmth which would +have set any other heart on fire. His tyrannous soul +wanted nothing but the dead, the merest plaything of +his will. And this girl, by the boldness of her first +move, had forced him to come. The scholar had +drawn the master along. The peevish pedant treated +the matter as he would have treated a rebellion at +school. His lewd severities, his coolly selfish pursuit +of a cruel pleasure, blighted the unhappy girl, who +now had nothing left her but remorse.</p> + +<p>It was no less shocking a fact, that the blood poured +out for his sake had no other effect than to tempt him +to make the most of it for his own purposes. In this, +perhaps his last, interview he sought to make so far +sure of the poor thing’s discretion, that, however +forsaken by him, she herself might still believe in +him. He asked if he was to be less favoured than +the nuns who had seen the miracle. She let herself +bleed before him. The water with which he washed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> +away the blood he drank himself,<a name="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> and made her +drink also, and by this hateful communion, he thought +to bind fast her soul.</p> + +<p>This lasted two or three hours, and it was now near +noon. The abbess was scandalized. She resolved to +go with the dinner herself, and make them open the +door. Girard took some tea: it being Friday, he +pretended to be fasting; though he had doubtless +armed himself well at Toulon. Cadière asked for +coffee. The lay sister who managed the kitchen was +surprised at this on such a day. But without that +strengthening draught she would have fainted away. +It set her up a little, and she kept hold of Girard +still. He stayed with her, no longer indeed locked +in, till four o’clock, seeking to efface the gloomy impression +caused by his conduct in the morning. By +dint of lying about friendship and fatherhood, he +somewhat reassured the susceptible creature, and +calmed her troubled spirits. She showed him the +way out, and, walking after him, took, childlike, two +or three skips for joy. He said, drily, “Little fool!”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>She paid heavily for her weakness. At nine of +that same night she had a dreadful vision, and was +heard crying out, “O God! keep off from me! get +back!” On the morning of the 8th, at mass she +did not stay for the communion, deeming herself, no +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>doubt, unworthy, but made her escape to her own +room. Thereon arose much scandal. Yet so greatly +was she beloved, that one of the nuns ran after her, +and, telling a compassionate falsehood, swore she had +beheld Jesus giving her the sacrament with His own +hand.</p> + +<p>Madame Lescot delicately and cleverly wrote a legend +out of the mystic ejaculations, the holy sighs, the +devout tears, and whatever else burst forth from this +shattered heart. Strange to say, these women tenderly +conspired to shield a woman. Nothing tells more +than this in behalf of poor Cadière and her delightful +gifts. Already in one month’s time she had become +the child of all. They defended her in everything she +did. Innocent though she might be, they saw in her +only the victim of the Devil’s attacks. One kind sturdy +woman of the people, Matherone, daughter of the +Ollioules locksmith, and porteress herself to the convent, +on seeing some of Girard’s indecent liberties, +said, in spite of them, “No matter: she is a saint.” +And when he once talked of taking her from the +convent, she cried out, “Take away our Mademoiselle +Cadière! I will have an iron door made to keep her +from going.”</p> + +<p>Alarmed at the state of things, and at the use to +which it might be turned by the abbess and her monks, +Cadière’s brethren who came to her every day, took +courage to be beforehand; and in a formal letter +written in her name to Girard, reminded him of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> +revelation given to her on the 25th June regarding +the morals of the Observantines. It was time, they +said, “to carry out God’s purposes in this matter,” +namely, of course, to demand an inquiry, to accuse +the accusers.</p> + +<p>Their excess of boldness was very rash. Cadière, +now all but dying, had no such thoughts in her head. +Her women-friends imagined that he who had caused +the disturbance would, perhaps, bring back the calm. +They besought Girard to come and confess her. A +dreadful scene took place. At the confessional she +uttered cries and wailings audible thirty paces off. The +curious among them found some amusement listening +to her, and were not disappointed. Girard was inflicting +chastisement. Again and again he said, “Be +calm, mademoiselle!” In vain did he try to absolve +her. She would not be absolved. On the 12th, she +had so sharp a pang below her heart, that she felt as +though her sides were bursting. On the 14th, she +seemed fast dying, and her mother was sent for. She +received the viaticum; and on the morrow made a +public confession, “the most touching, the most expressive +that had ever been heard. We were drowned +in tears.” On the 20th, she was in a state of heart-rending +agony. After that she had a sudden and +saving change for the better, marked by a very soothing +vision. She beheld the sinful Magdalen pardoned, +caught up into glory, filling in heaven the place which +Lucifer had lost.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></p> + +<p>Girard, however, could only ensure her discretion +by corrupting her yet further, by choking her remorse. +Sometimes he would come to the parlour and greet +her with bold embraces. But oftener he sent his +faithful followers, Guiol and others, who sought to +initiate her into their own disgraceful secrets, while +seeming to sympathise tenderly with the sufferings of +their outspoken friend. Girard not only winked at +this, but himself spoke freely to Cadière of such matters +as the pregnancy of Mdlle. Gravier. He wanted her +to ask him to Ollioules, to calm his irritation, to +persuade him that such a circumstance might be a +delusion of the Devil’s causing, which could perchance +be dispelled.</p> + +<p>These impure teachings made no way with Cadière. +They were sure to anger her brethren, to whom they +were not unknown. The letters they wrote in her name +are very curious. Enraged at heart and sorely wounded, +accounting Girard a villain, but obliged to make +their sister speak of him with respectful tenderness, +they still, by snatches, let their wrath become visible.</p> + +<p>As for Girard’s letters, they are pieces of laboured +writing, manifestly meant for the trial which might +take place. Let us talk of the only one which he did +not get into his hands to tamper with. It is dated +the 22nd July. It is at once sour and sweet, agreeable, +trifling, the letter of a careless man. The meaning of +it is thus:—</p> + +<p>“The bishop reached Toulon this morning, and will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> +go to see Cadière.... They will settle together what +to do and say. If the Grand Vicar and Father Sabatier +wish to see her, and ask to see her wounds, she +will tell them that she has been forbidden to do or +say aught.</p> + +<p>“I am hungering to see you again, to see the whole +of you. You know that I only demand <i>my right</i>. It +is so long since I have seen more than half of you (he +means to say, at the parlour grating). Shall I tire +you? Well, do you not also tire me?” And so on.</p> + +<p>A strange letter in every way. He distrusts alike +the bishop and the Jesuit, his own colleague, old +Sabatier. It is at bottom the letter of a restless +culprit. He knows that in her hands she holds his +letters, his papers, the means, in short, of ruining him. +The two young men write back in their sister’s name a +spirited answer—the only one that has a truthful sound. +They answer him line for line, without insult, but +with a roughness often ironical, and betraying the +wrath pent-up within them. The sister promises to +obey him, to say nothing either to the bishop or the +Jesuit. She congratulates him on having “boldness +enough to exhort others to suffer.” She takes up +and returns him his shocking gallantry, but in a +shocking way; and here we trace a man’s hand, the +hand of those two giddy heads.</p> + +<p>Two days after, they went and told her to decide on +leaving the convent forthwith. Girard was dismayed. +He thought his papers would disappear with her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> +The greatness of his terror took away his senses. He +had the weakness to go and weep at the Ollioules +parlour, to fall on his knees before her, and ask her if +she had the heart to leave him. Touched by his words, +the poor girl said “No,” went forward, and let him embrace +her. And yet this Judas wanted only to deceive +her, to gain a few days’ time for securing help from a +higher quarter.</p> + +<p>On the 29th there is an utter change. Cadière +stays at Ollioules, begs him to excuse her, vows submission. +It is but too clear that he has set some +mighty influences at work; that from the 29th threats +come in, perhaps from Aix, and presently from Paris. +The Jesuit bigwigs have been writing, and their courtly +patrons from Versailles.</p> + +<p>In such a struggle, what were the brethren to do? +No doubt they took counsel with their chiefs, who +would certainly warn them against setting too hard on +Girard as a <i>libertine confessor</i>; for thereby offence +would be given to all the clergy, who deemed confession +their dearest prize. It was needful, on the contrary; +to sever him from the priests by proving the +strangeness of his teaching, by bringing him forward +as a <i>Quietist</i>. With that one word they might lead +him a long way. In 1698, a vicar in the neighbourhood +of Dijon had been burnt for Quietism. They +conceived the idea of drawing up a memoir, dictated +apparently by their sister, to whom the plan was really +unknown, in which the high and splendid Quietism of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> +Girard should be affirmed, and therefore in effect +denounced. This memoir recounted the visions she +had seen in Lent. In it the name of Girard was +already in heaven. She saw it joined with her own +in the Book of Life.</p> + +<p>They durst not take this memoir to the bishop. +But they got their friend, little Camerle, his youthful +chaplain, to steal it from them. The bishop read it, +and circulated some copies about the town. On the +21st August, Girard being at the palace, the bishop +laughingly said to him, “Well, father, so your name +is in the Book of Life!”</p> + +<p>He was overcome, fancied himself lost, wrote to +Cadière in terms of bitter reproach. Once more with +tears he asked for his papers. Cadière in great surprise +vowed that her memoir had never gone out of +her brother’s hands. But when she found out her +mistake, her despair was unbounded. The sharpest +pangs of body and soul beset her. Once she thought +herself on the point of death. She became like one +mad. “I long so much to suffer. Twice I caught +up the rod of penance, and wielded it so savagely as +to draw a great deal of blood.” In the midst of this +dreadful outbreak, which proved at once the weakness +of her head and the boundless tenderness of her conscience, +Guiol finished her by describing Girard as +nearly dead. This raised her compassion to the +highest pitch.</p> + +<p>She was going to give up the papers. And yet it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> +was but too clear that these were her only safeguard +and support, the only proofs of her innocence, and the +tricks of which she had been made the victim. To +give them up was to risk a change of characters, to +risk the imputation of having herself seduced a saint, +the chance, in short, of seeing all the blame transferred +to her own side.</p> + +<p>But, if she must either be ruined herself or else ruin +Girard, she would far sooner accept the former result. +A demon, Guiol of course, tempted her in this very +way, with the wondrous sublimity of such a sacrifice. +God, she wrote, asked of her a bloody offering. She +could tell her of saints who, being accused, did not +justify, but rather accused themselves, and died like +lambs. This example Cadière followed. When Girard +was accused before her, she defended him, saying, +“He is right, and I told a falsehood.”</p> + +<p>She might have yielded up the letters of Girard +only; but in so great an outflowing of heart she +would have no haggling, and so gave him even copies +of her own.</p> + +<p>Thus at the same time he held these drafts +written by the Jacobin, and the copies made and sent +him by the other brother. Thenceforth he had nothing +to fear: no further check could be given him. +He might make away with them or put them back +again; might destroy, blot out, and falsify at pleasure. +He was perfectly free to carry on his forger’s work, +and he worked away to some purpose. Out of twenty-four<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> +letters, sixteen remain; and these still read like +elaborately forged afterthoughts.</p> + +<p>With everything in his own hands, Girard could +laugh at his foes. It was now their turn to be afraid. +The bishop, a man of the upper world, was too well +acquainted with Versailles and the name won by the +Jesuits not to treat them with proper tenderness. He +even thought it safest to make Girard some small amends +for his unkind reproach about The Book of Life; and +so he graciously informed him that he would like to +stand godfather to the child of one of his kinsmen.</p> + +<p>The Bishops of Toulon had always been high lords. +The list of them shows all the first names of Provence, +and some famous names from Italy. From +1712 to 1737, under the Regency and Fleury, the +bishop was one of the La Tours of Pin. He was +very rich, having also the Abbeys of Aniane and +St. William of the Desert, in Languedoc. He behaved +well, it was said, during the plague of 1721. +However, he stayed but seldom at Toulon, lived quite +as a man of the world, never said mass, and passed +for something more than a lady’s man.</p> + +<p>In July he went to Toulon, and though Girard +would have turned him aside from Ollioules and +Cadière, he was curious to see her nevertheless. He +saw her in one of her best moments. She took his +fancy, seemed to him a pretty little saint; and so far +did he believe in her enlightenment from above, as to +speak to her thoughtlessly of all his affairs, his interests,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> +his future doings, consulting her as he would +have consulted a teller of fortunes.</p> + +<p>In spite, however, of the brethren’s prayers he +hesitated to take her away from Ollioules and from +Girard. A means was found of resolving him. A +report was spread about Toulon, that the girl had +shown a desire to flee into the wilderness, as her +model saint, Theresa, had essayed to do at twelve years +old. Girard, they said, had put this fancy into her +head, that he might one day carry her off beyond the +diocese whose pride she was, and box-up his treasure +in some far convent, where the Jesuits, enjoying the +whole monopoly, might turn to the most account her +visions, her miracles, her winsome ways as a young +saint of the people. The bishop felt much hurt. He +instructed the abbess to give Mdlle. Cadière up to no +one save her mother, who was certain to come very +shortly and take her away from the convent to a +country-house belonging to the family.</p> + +<p>In order not to offend Girard, they got Cadière to +write and say that, if such a change incommoded him, +he could find a colleague and give her a second +confessor. He saw their meaning, and preferred disarming +jealousy by abandoning Cadière. He gave +her up on the 15th September, in a note most carefully +worded and piteously humble, by which he strove to +leave her friendly and tender towards himself. “If I +have sometimes done wrong as concerning you, you +will never at least forget how wishful I have been to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> +help you.... I am, and ever will be, all yours in +the Secret Heart of Jesus.”</p> + +<p>The bishop, however, was not reassured. He fancied +that the three Jesuits, Girard, Sabatier, and +Grignet, wanted to beguile him, and some day, with +some order from Paris, rob him of his little woman. +On the 17th September, he decided once for all to +send his carriage, a light fashionable <i>phaeton</i>, as it was +called, and have her taken off at once to her mother’s +country-house.</p> + +<p>By way of soothing and shielding her, of putting +her in good trim, he looked out for a confessor, and +applied first to a Carmelite who had confessed her +before Girard came. But he, being an old man, +declined. Some others also probably hung back. The +bishop had to take a stranger, but three months come +from the County (Avignon), one Father Nicholas, +prior of the Barefooted Carmelites. He was a man of +forty, endowed with brains and boldness, very firm +and even stubborn. He showed himself worthy of +such a trust by rejecting it. It was not the Jesuits he +feared, but the girl herself. He foreboded no good +therefrom, thought that the angel might be an angel +of darkness, and feared that the Evil One under the +shape of a gentle girl would deal his blows with all +the more baleful effect.</p> + +<p>But he could not see her without feeling somewhat +reassured. She seemed so very simple, so pleased +at length to have a safe, steady person, on whom she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> +might lean. The continual wavering in which she +had been kept by Girard, had caused her the greatest +suffering. On the first day she spoke more than she +had done for a month past, told him of her life, her +sufferings, her devotions, and her visions. Night +itself, a hot night in mid-September, did not stop her. +In her room everything was open, the windows, and +the three doors. She went on even to daybreak, while +her brethren lay near her asleep. On the morrow she +resumed her tale under the vine-bower. The Carmelite +was amazed, and asked himself if the Devil +could ever be so earnest in praise of God.</p> + +<p>Her innocence was clear. She seemed a nice +obedient girl, gentle as a lamb, frolicsome as a puppy. +She wanted to play at bowls, a common game in those +country-places, nor did he for his part refuse to +join her.</p> + +<p>If there was a spirit in her, it could not at any rate +be called the spirit of lying. On looking at her closely +for a long time, you could not doubt that her wounds +now and then did really bleed. He took care to +make no such immodest scrutiny of them as Girard +had done, contenting himself with a look at the wound +upon her foot. Of her trances he saw quite enough. +On a sudden, a burning heat would diffuse itself +everywhere from her heart. Losing her consciousness, +she went into convulsions and talked wildly.</p> + +<p>The Carmelite clearly perceived that in her were +two persons, the young woman and the Demon. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span> +former was honest, nay, very fresh of heart; ignorant, +for all that had been done to her; little able to understand +the very things that had brought her into +such sore trouble. When, before confession, she spoke +of Girard’s kisses, the Carmelite roughly said, “But +those are very great sins.”</p> + +<p>“O God!” she answered, weeping, “I am lost +indeed, for he has done much more than that to me!”</p> + +<p>The bishop came to see. For him the country-house +was only the length of a walk. She answered his +questions artlessly, told him at least how things began. +The bishop was angry, mortified, very wroth. No +doubt he guessed the remainder. There was nought +to keep him from raising a great outcry against +Girard. Not caring for the danger of a struggle with +the Jesuits, he entered thoroughly into the Carmelite’s +views, allowed that she was bewitched, and added that +<i>Girard himself was the wizard</i>. He wanted to lay him +that very moment under a solemn ban, to bring him to +disgrace and ruin. Cadière prayed for him who had +done her so much wrong; vengeance she would not +have. Falling on her knees before the bishop, she +implored him to spare Girard, to speak no more of +things so sorrowful. With touching humility, she +said, “It is enough for me to be enlightened at last, to +know that I was living in sin.” Her Jacobin brother +took her part, foreseeing the perils of such a war, and +doubtful whether the bishop would stand fast.</p> + +<p>Her attacks of disorder were now fewer. The season<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span> +had changed. The burning summer was over. Nature +at length showed mercy. It was the pleasant +month of October. The bishop had the keen delight +of feeling that she had been saved by him. No longer +under Girard’s influence in the stifling air of Ollioules, +but well cared-for by her family, by the brave and +honest monk, protected, too, by the bishop, who never +grudged his visits, and who shielded her with his +steady countenance, the young girl became altogether +calm.</p> + +<p>For seven weeks or so she seemed quite well-behaved. +The bishop’s happiness was so great that +he wanted the Carmelite, with Cadière’s help, to look +after Girard’s other penitents, and bring them also +back to their senses. They should go to the country-house; +how unwillingly, and with how ill a grace we +can easily guess. In truth, it was strangely ill-judged +to bring those women before the bishop’s ward, a girl +so young still, and but just delivered from her own +ecstatic ravings.</p> + +<p>The state of things became ridiculous and sorely +embittered. Two parties faced each other, Girard’s +women and those of the bishop. On the side of the +latter were a German lady and her daughter, dear +friends of Cadière’s. On the other side were the +rebels, headed by the Guiol. With her the bishop +treated, in hopes of getting her to enter into relations +with the Carmelite, and bring her friends over to him. +He sent her his own clerk, and then a solicitor, an old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span> +lover of Guiol’s. All this failing of any effect, the +bishop came to his last resource, determined to summon +them all to his palace. Here they mostly denied those +trances and mystic marks of which they had made +such boast. One of them, Guiol, of course, astonished +him yet more by her shamelessly treacherous +offer to prove to him, on the spot, that they had no +marks whatever about their bodies. They had deemed +him wanton enough to fall into such a snare. But he +kept clear of it very well, declining the offer with +thanks to those who, at the cost of their own modesty, +would have had him copy Girard, and provoke the +laughter of all the town.</p> + +<p>The bishop was not lucky. On the one hand, these +bold wenches made fun of him. On the other, his +success with Cadière was now being undone. She +had hardly entered her own narrow lane in gloomy +Toulon, when she began to fall off. She was just in +those dangerous and baleful centres where her illness +began, on the very field of the battle waged by the two +hostile parties. The Jesuits, whose rearguard everyone +saw in the Court, had on their side the crafty, +the prudent, the knowing. The Carmelite had none +but the bishop with him, was not even backed by his +own brethren, nor yet by the clergy. He had one +weapon, however, in reserve. On the 8th November, +he got out of Cadière a written power to reveal her +confession in case of need.</p> + +<p>It was a daring, dauntless step, which made Girard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> +shudder. He was not very brave, and would have +been undone had his cause not been that of the Jesuits +also. He cowered down in the depths of their college. +But his colleague Sabatier, an old, sanguine, passionate +fellow, went straight to the bishop’s palace. He +entered into the prelate’s presence, like another Popilius, +bearing peace or war in his gown. He pushed +him to the wall, made him understand that a suit with +the Jesuits would lead to his own undoing; that he +would remain for ever Bishop of Toulon; would never +rise to an archbishopric. Yet further, with the freedom +of an apostle strong at Versailles, he assured +him that if this affair exposed the morals of a Jesuit, +it would shed no less light on the morals of a bishop. +In a letter, clearly planned by Girard, it was pretended +that the Jesuits held themselves ready in the background, +to hurl dreadful recriminations against the +prelate, declaring his way of life not only unepiscopal, +but <i>abominable</i> withal. The sly, faithless Girard and +the hot-headed Sabatier, swollen with rage and spitefulness, +would have pressed the calumnious charge. +They would not have failed to say that all this matter +was about a girl; that if Girard had taken care of her +when ill, the bishop had gotten her when she was well. +What a commotion would be caused by such a scandal +in the well-regulated life of the great worldly lord! +It were too laughable a piece of chivalry to make war +in revenge for the maidenhood of a weak little fool, +to embroil oneself for her sake with all honest people!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span> +The Cardinal of Bonzi died indeed of grief at Toulouse, +but that was on account of a fair lady, the +Marchioness of Ganges. The bishop, on his part, +risked his ruin, risked the chance of being overwhelmed +with shame and ridicule, for the child of a retail-dealer +in the Rue de l’Hôpital!</p> + +<p>Sabatier’s threatenings made all the greater impression, +because the bishop himself clung less firmly to +Cadière. He did not thank her for falling ill again; +for giving the lie to his former success; for doing +him a wrong by her relapse. He bore her a grudge +for having failed to cure her. He said to himself that +Sabatier was in the right; that he had better come to +a compromise. The change was sudden—a kind of +warning from above. All at once, like Paul on the +way to Damascus, he beheld the light, and became a +convert to the Jesuits.</p> + +<p>Sabatier would not let him go. He put paper before +him, and made him write and sign a decree forbidding +the Carmelite, his agent with Cadière, and another +forbidding her brother, the Jacobin.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_113_113" id="Footnote_113_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> This communion of blood prevailed among the Northern +<i>Reiters</i>. See my <i>Origines</i>.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="chs"><a name="CHAPTER_XII_2" id="CHAPTER_XII_2"></a>CHAPTER XII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>THE TRIAL OF CADIERE: 1730-1731.</h3> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">We</span> can guess how this alarming blow was taken by +the Cadière family. The sick girl’s attacks became +frequent and fearful. By a cruel chance they brought +on a kind of epidemic among her intimate friends. +Her neighbour, the German lady, who had trances +also, which she had hitherto deemed divine, now fell +into utter fright, and fancied they came from hell. +This worthy dame of fifty years remembered that she, +too, had often had unclean thoughts: she believed +herself given over to the Devil; saw nothing but +devils about her; and escaping from her own house in +spite of her daughter’s watchfulness, entreated shelter +from the Cadières. From that time the house became +unbearable; business could not be carried on. +The elder Cadière inveighed furiously against Girard, +crying, “He shall be served like Gauffridi: he, too, +shall be burnt!” And the Jacobin added, “Rather +would we waste the whole of our family estate!”</p> + +<p>On the night of the 17th November, Cadière +screamed, and was like one choking. They thought +she was going to die. The eldest Cadière, the tradesman, +lost his wits, and called out to his neighbours<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span> +from the window, “Help! the Devil is throttling my +sister!” They came running up almost in their shirts. +The doctors and surgeons wanted to apply the cupping-glasses +to a case of what they called “suffocation +of the womb.” While some were gone to fetch these, +they succeeded in unlocking her teeth and making her +swallow a drop of brandy, which brought her to herself. +Meanwhile there also came to the girl some +doctors of the soul; first an old priest confessor to +Cadière’s mother, and then some parsons of Toulon. +All this noise and shouting, the arrival of the priests +in full dress, the preparations for exorcising, had +brought everyone out into the street. The newcomers +kept asking what was the matter. “Cadière has been +bewitched by Girard,” was the continual reply. We +may imagine the pity and the wrath of the people.</p> + +<p>Greatly alarmed, but anxious to cast the fear back +on others, the Jesuits did a very barbarous thing. +They returned to the bishop, ordered and insisted that +Cadière should be brought to trial; that the attack +should be made that very day; that justice should +make an unforeseen descent on this poor girl, as she +lay rattling in the throat after the last dreadful +seizure.</p> + +<p>Sabatier never left the bishop until the latter had +called his judge, his officer, the Vicar-general Larmedieu, +and his prosecutor or episcopal advocate, Esprit +Reybaud, and commanded them to go to work forthwith.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span></p> + +<p>By the Canon Law this was impossible, illegal. A +<i>preliminary inquiry was needed</i> into the facts, before +the judicial business could begin. There was another +difficulty: the spiritual judge had no right to make +such an arrest save for <i>a rejection of the Sacrament</i>. +The two church-lawyers must have made these objections. +But Sabatier would hear of no excuses. If +matters were allowed to drag in this cold legal way, he +would miss his stroke of terror.</p> + +<p>Larmedieu was a compliant judge, a friend of the +clergy. He was not one of your rude magistrates +who go straight before them, like blind boars, on the +high-road of the law, without seeing or respecting anyone. +He had shown great regard for Aubany, the +patron of Ollioules, during his trial; helping him to +escape by the slowness of his own procedure. Afterwards, +when he knew him to be at Marseilles, as if +that was far from France, in the <i>ultima thule</i> or <i>terra +incognita</i> of ancient geographers, he would not budge +any further. This, however, was a very different case: +the judge who was so paralytic against Aubany, had +wings, and wings of lightning, for Cadière. It was nine +in the morning when the dwellers in the lane saw with +much curiosity a grand procession arrive at the Cadières’ +door, with Master Larmedieu and the episcopal advocate +at the head, honoured by an escort of two clergymen, +doctors of theology. The house was invaded: +the sick girl was summoned before them. They made +her swear to tell the truth against herself; swear to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span> +defame herself by speaking out in the ears of justice +matters that touched her conscience and the confessional +only.</p> + +<p>She might have dispensed with an answer, for none +of the usual forms had been observed: but she would +not raise the question. She took the oath that was +meant to disarm and betray her. For, being once +bound thereby, she told everything, even to those +shameful and ridiculous details which it must be very +painful for any girl to acknowledge.</p> + +<p>Larmedieu’s official statement and his first examination +point to a clearly settled agreement between +him and the Jesuits. Girard was to be brought forward +as the dupe and prey of Cadière’s knavery. +Fancy a man of sixty, a doctor, professor, director of +nuns, being therewithal so innocent and credulous, +that a young girl, a mere child, was enough to draw +him into the snare! The cunning, shameless wanton +had beguiled him with her visions, but failed to draw +him into her own excesses. Enraged thereat, she +endowed him with every baseness that the fancy of a +Messalina could suggest to her!</p> + +<p>So far from giving grounds for any such idea, the +examination brings out the victim’s gentleness in a +very touching way. Evidently she accuses others only +through constraint, under the pressure of her oath +just taken. She is gentle towards her enemies, even +to the faithless Guiol who, in her brother’s words, had +betrayed her; had done her worst to corrupt her; had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span> +ruined her, last of all, by making her give up the +papers which would have insured her safety.</p> + +<p>The Cadière brothers were frightened at their sister’s +artlessness. In her regard for her oath she gave herself +up without reserve to be vilified, alas! for ever; +to have ballads sung about her; to be mocked by +the very foes of Jesuits and silly scoffing libertines.</p> + +<p>The mischief done, they wanted at least to have it +defined, to have the official report of the priests +checked by some more serious measure. Seeming +though she did to be the party accused, they made her +the accuser, and prevailed on Marteli Chantard, the +King’s Lieutenant Civil and Criminal, to come and +take her deposition. In this document, short and +clear, the fact of her seduction is clearly established; +likewise the reproaches she uttered against Girard for +his lewd endearments, reproaches at which he only +laughed; likewise the advice he gave her, to let herself +be possessed by the Demon; likewise the means +he used for keeping her wounds open, and so on.</p> + +<p>The King’s officer, the Lieutenant, was bound to +carry the matter before his own court. For the spiritual +judge in his hurry had failed to go through the +forms of ecclesiastic law, and so made his proceedings +null. But the lay magistrate lacked the courage for +this. He let himself be harnessed to the clerical +inquiry, accepted Larmedieu for his colleague, went +himself to sit and hear the evidence in the bishop’s +court. The clerk of the bishopric wrote it down, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span> +not the clerk of the King’s Lieutenant. Did he +write it down faithfully? We have reason to doubt that, +when we find him threatening the witnesses, and going +every night to show their statements to the Jesuits.</p> + +<p>The two curates of Cadière’s parish, who were heard +first, deposed drily, not in her favour, yet by no +means against her, certainly not in favour of the +Jesuits. These latter saw that everything was going +amiss for them. Lost to all shame, at the risk of +angering the people, they determined to break all +down. They got from the bishop an order to imprison +Cadière and the chief witnesses she wanted to be heard. +These were the German lady and Batarelle. The girl +herself was placed in the Refuge, a convent-prison; +the ladies in a bridewell, the <i>Good-Shepherd</i>, where +mad women and foul streetwalkers needing punishment +were thrown. On the 26th November, Cadière +was dragged from her bed and given over to the Ursulines, +penitents of Girard’s, who laid her duly on some +rotten straw.</p> + +<p>A fear of them thus established, the witnesses might +now be heard. They began with two, choice and +respectable. One was the Guiol, notorious for being +Girard’s pander, a woman of keen and clever tongue, +who was commissioned to hurl the first dart and open +the wound of slander. The other was Laugier, the +little seamstress, whom Cadière had supported and for +whose apprenticeship she had paid. While she lay +with child by Girard, this Laugier had cried out against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span> +him; now she washed away her fault by sneering at +Cadière and defiling her benefactress, but in a very +clumsy way, like the shameless wanton she was; +ascribing to her impudent speeches quite contrary to +her known habits. Then came Mdlle. Gravier and her +cousin Reboul—all the <i>Girardites</i>, in short, as they +were called in Toulon.</p> + +<p>But, do as they would, the light would burst forth +now and then. The wife of a purveyor in the house +where these Girardites met together, said, with cruel +plainness, that she could not abide them, that they +disturbed the whole house; she spoke of their noisy +bursts of laughter, of their suppers paid for out of the +money collected for the poor, and so forth.</p> + +<p>They were sore afraid lest the nuns should speak out +for Cadière. The bishop’s clerk told them, as if +from the bishop himself, that those who spoke evil +should be chastised. As a yet stronger measure, they +ordered back from Marseilles the gay Father Aubany, +who had some ascendant over the nuns. His affair +with the girl he had violated was got settled for him. +Her parents were made to understand that justice could +do nothing in their case. The child’s good name was +valued at eight hundred livres, which were paid on Aubany’s +account. So, full of zeal, he returned, a thorough +Jesuit, to his troop at Ollioules. The poor troop +trembled indeed, when this worthy father told them +of his commission to warn them that, if they did not +behave themselves, “they should be put to the torture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>For all that, they could not get as much as they +wanted from these fifteen nuns. Two or three at +most were on Girard’s side, but all stated facts, especially +about the 7th July, which bore directly against +him.</p> + +<p>In despair the Jesuits came to an heroic decision, in +order to make sure of their witnesses. They stationed +themselves in an outer hall which led into the court. +There they stopped those going in, tampered with +them, threatened them, and, if they were against +Girard, coolly debarred their entrance by thrusting +them out of doors.</p> + +<p>Thus the clerical judge and the King’s officer were +only as puppets in the Jesuits’ hands. The whole town +saw this and trembled. During December, January, +and February, the Cadière family drew up and diffused +a complaint touching the way in which justice was +denied them and witnesses suborned. The Jesuits +themselves felt that the place would no longer hold +them. They evoked help from a higher quarter. This +seemed best available in the shape of a decree of the +Great Council, which would have brought the matter +before itself and hushed up everything, as Mazarin +had done in the Louviers affair. But the Chancellor +was D’Aguesseau; and the Jesuits had no wish to +let the matter go up to Paris. They kept it still in +Provence. On the 16th January, 1731, they got +the King to determine that the Parliament of Provence, +where they had plenty of friends, should pass sentence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span> +on the inquiry which two of its councillors were conducting +at Toulon.</p> + +<p>M. Faucon, a layman, and M. de Charleval, a councillor +of the Church, came in fact and straightway +marched down among the Jesuits. These eager commissioners +made so little secret of their loud and +bitter partiality, as to toss out an order for Cadière’s +remand, just as they might have done to an accused +prisoner; whilst Girard was most politely called up +and allowed to go free, to keep on saying mass and +hearing confessions. And so the plaintiff was kept +under lock and key, in her enemies’ hands, exposed to +all manner of cruelty from Girard’s devotees.</p> + +<p>From these honest Ursulines she met with just such +a reception as if they had been charged to bring about +her death. The room they gave her was the cell of a +mad nun who made everything filthy. In the nun’s +old straw, in the midst of a frightful stench, she lay. +Her kinsmen on the morrow had much ado to get in a +coverlet and mattress for her use. For her nurse and +keeper she was allowed a poor tool of Girard’s, a lay-sister, +daughter to that very Guiol who had betrayed +her; a girl right worthy of her mother, capable of any +wickedness, a source of danger to her modesty, perhaps +even to her life. They submitted her to a course +of penance in her case specially painful, refusing her +the right of confessing herself or taking the sacrament. +She relapsed into her illness from the time she +was debarred the latter privilege. Her fierce foe, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span> +Jesuit Sabatier, came into her cell, and formed a new +and startling scheme to win her by a bribe of the +holy wafer. The bargaining began. They offered +her terms: she should communicate if she would only +acknowledge herself a slanderer, unworthy of communicating. +In her excessive humbleness she might have +done so. But, while ruining herself, she would also +have ruined the Carmelite and her own brethren.</p> + +<p>Reduced to Pharisaical tricks, they took to expounding +her speeches. Whatever she uttered in a mystic +sense they feigned to accept in its material hardness. +To free herself from such snares she displayed, what +they had least expected, very great presence of mind.</p> + +<p>A yet more treacherous plan for robbing her of the +public sympathy and setting the laughers against her, +was to find her a lover. They pretended that she had +proposed to a young blackguard that they should set +off together and roam the world.</p> + +<p>The great lords of that day, being fond of having +children and little pages to wait on them, readily took +in the better-mannered of their peasant’s sons. In +this way had the bishop dealt with the boy of one of +his tenants. He washed his face, as it were; made +him tidy. Presently, when the favourite grew up, he +gave him the tonsure, dressed him up like an abbé, and +dubbed him his chaplain at the age of twenty. This +person was the Abbé Camerle. Brought up with the +footmen and made to do everything, he was, like many +a half-scrubbed country youth, a sly, but simple lout.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span> +He saw that the prelate since his arrival at Toulon +had been curious about Cadière and far from friendly +to Girard. He thought to please and amuse his master +by turning himself, at Ollioules, into a spy on their +suspected intercourse. But after the bishop changed +through fear of the Jesuits, Camerle became equally +zealous in helping Girard with active service against +Cadière.</p> + +<p>He came one day, like another Joseph, to say that +Mdlle. Cadière had, like Potiphar’s wife, been tempting +him, and trying to shake his virtue. Had this been +true, it was all the more cowardly of him thus to +punish her for a moment’s weakness, to take so mean +an advantage of some light word. But his education +as page and seminarist was not such as to bring him +either honour or the love of women.</p> + +<p>She extricated herself with spirit and success, +covering him with shame. The two angry commissioners +saw her making so triumphant an answer, that +they cut the investigation short, and cut down the +number of her witnesses. Out of the sixty-eight she +summoned, they allowed but thirty-eight to appear. +Regardless alike of the delays and the forms of justice, +they hurried forward the confronting of witnesses. +Yet nothing was gained, thereby. On the 25th and +again on the 26th February, she renewed her crushing +declarations.</p> + +<p>Such was their rage thereat, that they declared their +regret at the want of torments and executioners in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span> +Toulon, “who might have made her sing out a little.” +These things formed their <i>ultima ratio</i>. They were +employed, by the Parliaments through all that century. +I have before me a warm defence of torture,<a name="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> written +in 1780, by a learned member of Parliament, who also +became a member of the Great Council; it was dedicated +to the King, Louis XVI., and crowned with the +flattering approval of His Holiness Pius VI.</p> + +<p>But, in default of the torture that would have made +her sing, she was made to speak by a still better +process. On the 27th February, Guiol’s daughter, the +lay-sister who acted as her jailer, came to her at an +early hour with a glass of wine. She was astonished: +she was not at all thirsty: she never drank wine, +especially pure wine, of a morning. The lay-sister, a +rough, strong menial, such as they keep in convents to +manage crazy or refractory women, and to punish +children, overwhelmed the feeble sufferer with remonstrances +that looked like threats. Unwilling as she +was, she drank. And she was forced to drink it all, +to the very dregs, which she found unpleasantly salt.</p> + +<p>What was this repulsive draught? We have already +seen how clever these old confessors of nuns were at +remedies of various kinds. In this case the wine +alone would have done for so weakly a patient. It +had been quite enough to make her drunk, to draw +from her at once some stammering speeches, which +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span>the clerk might have moulded into a downright falsehood. +But a drug of some kind, perhaps some +wizard’s simple, which would act for several days, was +added to the wine, in order to prolong its effects and +leave her no way of disproving anything laid to her +charge.</p> + +<p>In her declaration of the 27th February, how +sudden and entire a change! It is nothing but a +defence of Girard! Strange to say, the commissioners +make no remark on so abrupt a change. The +strange, shameful sight of a young girl drunk causes +no astonishment, fails to put them on their guard. +She is made to own that all which had passed between +herself and Girard was merely the offspring of her own +diseased fancy; that all she had spoken of as real, at +the bidding of her brethren and the Carmelite, was +nothing more than a dream. Not content with +whitening Girard, she must blacken her own friends, +must crush them, and put the halter round their necks.</p> + +<p>Especially wonderful is the clearness of her deposition, +the neat way in which it is worded. The +hand of the skilful clerk peeps out therefrom. It is +very strange, however, that now they are in so fair a +way, they do not follow it up. From the 27th to the +6th of March there is no further questioning.</p> + +<p>On the 28th, the poison having doubtless done its +work, and plunged her into a perfect stupor, or else a +kind of Sabbatic frenzy, it was impossible to bring +her forth. After that, while her head was still disordered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span> +they could easily give her other potions of +which she would know and remember nothing. What +happened during those six days seems to have been so +shocking, so sad for poor Cadière, that neither she +nor her brother had the heart to speak of it twice. +Nor would they have spoken at all, had not the +brethren themselves incurred a prosecution aiming at +their own lives.</p> + +<p>Having won his cause through Cadière’s falsehood, +Girard dared to come and see her in her prison, where +she lay stupefied or in despair, forsaken alike of earth +and heaven, and if any clear thoughts were left her, +possessed with the dreadful consciousness of having +by her last deposition murdered her own near kin. +Her own ruin was complete already. But another +trial, that of her brothers and the bold Carmelite, +would now begin. She may in her remorse have been +tempted to soften Girard, to keep him from proceeding +against them, above all to save herself from being put +to the torture. Girard, at any rate, took advantage of +her utter weakness, and behaved like the determined +scoundrel he really was.</p> + +<p>Alas! her wandering spirit came but slowly back to +her. It was on the 6th March that she had to face +her accusers, to renew her former admissions, to ruin +her brethren beyond repair. She could not speak; +she was choking. The commissioners had the kindness +to tell her that the torture was there, at her side; +to describe to her the wooden horse, the points of iron,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span> +the wedges for jamming fast her bones. Her courage +failed her, so weak she was now of body. She submitted +to be set before her cruel master, who might +laugh triumphant now that he had debased not only +her body, but yet more her conscience, by making her +the murderess of her own friends.</p> + +<p>No time was lost in profiting by her weakness. +They prevailed forthwith on the Parliament of Aix to +let the Carmelite and the two brothers be imprisoned, +that they might undergo a separate trial for their lives, +as soon as Cadière should have been condemned.</p> + +<p>On the 10th March, she was dragged from the +Ursulines of Toulon to Sainte-Claire of Ollioules. +Girard, however, was not sure of her yet. He got +leave to have her conducted, like some dreaded highway +robber, between some soldiers of the mounted +police. He demanded that she should be carefully +locked up at Sainte-Claire. The ladies were moved to +tears at the sight of a poor sufferer who could not +drag herself forward, approaching between those drawn +swords. Everyone pitied her. Two brave men, M. +Aubin, a solicitor, and M. Claret, a notary, drew up +for her the deeds in which she withdrew her late confession, +fearful documents that record the threats of +the commissioners and of the Ursuline prioress, and +above all, the fact of the drugged wine she had been +forced to drink.</p> + +<p>At the same time these daring men drew up for the +Chancellor’s court at Paris a plea of error, as it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span> +called, exposing the irregular and blameable proceedings, +the wilful breaches of the law, effected in the coolest +way, first by the bishop’s officer and the King’s Lieutenant, +secondly by the two commissioners. The +Chancellor D’Aguesseau showed himself very slack +and feeble. He let these foul proceedings stand; left +the business in charge of the Parliament of Aix, +sullied as it already seemed to be by the disgrace with +which two of its members had just been covering +themselves.</p> + +<p>So once more they laid hands on their victim, and +had her dragged, in charge as before of the mounted +police, from Ollioules to Aix. In those days people +slept at a public house midway. Here the corporal +explained that, by virtue of his orders, he would sleep +in the young girl’s room. They pretended to believe +that an invalid unable to walk, might flee away by +jumping out of window. Truly, it was a most villanous +device, to commit such a one to the chaste keeping +of the heroes of the <i>dragonnades</i>.<a name="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> Happily, her +mother had come to see her start, had followed her in +spite of everything, and they did not dare to beat her +away with their butt-ends. She stayed in the room, +kept watch—neither of them, indeed, lying down—and +shielded her child from all harm.</p> + +<p>Cadière was forwarded to the Ursulines of Aix, who +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span>had the King’s command to take her in charge. But +the prioress pretended that the order had not yet come. +We may see here how savage a woman who was once +impassioned will grow, until she has lost all her +woman’s nature. She kept the other four hours at +her street-door, as if she were a public show. There +was time to fetch a mob of Jesuits’ followers, of honest +Church artizans, to hoot and hiss, while children might +help by throwing stones. For these four hours she +was in the pillory. Some, however, of the more dispassionate +passers-by asked if the Ursulines had +gotten orders to let them kill the girl. We may guess +what tender jailers their sick prisoner would find in +these good sisters!</p> + +<p>The ground was prepared with admirable effect. By a +spirited concert between Jesuit magistrates and plotting +ladies, a system of deterring had been set on foot. +No pleader would ruin himself by defending a girl +thus heavily aspersed. No one would digest the poisonous +things stored up by her jailers, for him who should +daily show his face in their parlour to await an interview +with Cadière. The defence in that case would +devolve on M. Chaudon, syndic of the Aix bar. He +did not decline so hard a duty. And yet he was so +uneasy as to desire a settlement, which the Jesuits +refused. Thereupon he showed what he really was, a +man of unswerving honesty, of amazing courage. He +exposed, with the learning of a lawyer, the monstrous +character of the whole proceeding. So doing, he would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span> +for ever embroil himself with the Parliament no less +than the Jesuits. He brought into sharp outline the +spiritual incest of the confessor, though he modestly +refrained from specifying how far he had carried his +profligacy. He also withheld himself from speaking +of Girard’s girls, the loose-lived devotees, as a matter +well-known, but to which no one would have liked to +bear witness. In short, he gave Girard the best case +he could by assailing him <i>as a wizard</i>. People laughed, +made fun of the advocate. He undertook to prove the +existence of demons by a series of sacred texts, beginning +with the Gospels. This made them laugh the +louder.</p> + +<p>The case had been cleverly disfigured by the turning +of an honest Carmelite into Cadière’s lover, and the +weaver of a whole chain of libels against Girard and +the Jesuits. Thenceforth the crowd of idlers, of +giddy worldlings, scoffers and philosophers alike, made +merry with either side, being thoroughly impartial as +between Carmelite and Jesuit, and exceedingly rejoiced +to see this battle of monk with monk. Those who +were presently to be called <i>Voltairites</i>, were even better +inclined towards the polished Jesuits, those men of the +world, than towards any of the old mendicant orders.</p> + +<p>So the matter became more and more tangled. +Jokes kept raining down, but raining mostly on the +victim. They called it a love-intrigue. They saw in +it nothing but food for fun. There was not a scholar +nor a clerk who did not turn a ditty on Girard and his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span> +pupil, who did not hash up anew the old provincial +jokes about Madeline in the Gauffridi affair, her six +thousand imps, their dread of a flogging, and the +wonderful chastening-process whereby Cadière’s devils +were put to flight.</p> + +<p>On this latter point the friends of Girard had no +difficulty in proving him clean. He had acted by his +right as director, in accordance with the common +wont. The rod is the symbol of fatherhood. He had +treated his penitent with a view to the healing of her +soul. They used to thrash demoniacs, to thrash the +insane and sufferers in other ways. This was the +favourite mode of hunting out the enemy, whether in +the shape of devil or disease. With the people it +was a very common idea. One brave workman of +Toulon, who had witnessed Cadière’s sad plight, +declared that a bull’s sinew was the poor sufferer’s +only cure.</p> + +<p>Thus strongly supported, Girard had only to act +reasonably. He would not take the trouble. His defence +is charmingly flippant. He never deigns even +to agree with his own depositions. He gives the lie +to his own witnesses. He seems to be jesting, and +says, with the coolness of a great lord of the Regency, +that if, as they charge him, he was ever shut up with +her, “it could only have happened nine times.”</p> + +<p>“And why did the good father do so,” would his +friends say, “save to watch, to consider, to search +out the truth concerning her? ’Tis the confessor’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span> +duty in all such cases. Read the life of the most +holy Catherine of Genoa. One evening her confessor +hid himself in her room, waiting to see the wonders +she would work, and to catch her in the act miraculous. +But here, unhappily, the Devil, who never +sleeps, had laid a snare for this lamb of God, had +belched forth this devouring monster of a she-dragon, +this mixture of maniac and demoniac, to swallow him +up, to overwhelm him in a cataract of slander.”</p> + +<p>It was an old and excellent custom to smother +monsters in the cradle. Then why not later also? +Girard’s ladies charitably advised the instant using +against her of fire and sword. “Let her perish!” +cried the devotees. Many of the great ladies also +wished to have her punished, deeming it rather too bad +that such a creature should have dared to enter such a +plea, to bring into court the man who had done her +but too great an honour.</p> + +<p>Some determined Jansenists there were in the +Parliament, but these were more inimical to the +Jesuits than friendly to the girl. And they might +well be downcast and discouraged, seeing they had +against them at once the terrible Society of Jesus, the +Court of Versailles, the Cardinal Minister (Fleury), +and, lastly, the drawing-rooms of Aix. Should they +be bolder than the head of the law, the Chancellor +D’Aguesseau, who had proved so very slack? The +Attorney-General did not waver at all: being charged +with the indictment of Girard, he avowed himself his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span> +friend, advised him how to meet the charges against +him.</p> + +<p>There was, indeed, but one question at issue, to +ascertain by what kind of reparation, of solemn +atonement, of exemplary chastening, the plaintiff thus +changed into the accused might satisfy Girard and +the Company of Jesus. The Jesuits, with all their +good-nature, affirmed the need of an example, in the +interests of religion, by way of some slight warning +both to the Jansenist Convulsionaries and the scribbling +philosophers who were beginning to swarm.</p> + +<p>There were two points by which Cadière might be +hooked, might receive the stroke of the harpoon.</p> + +<p>Firstly, she had borne false witness. But, then, by +no law could slander be punished with death. To +gain that end you must go a little further, and say, +“The old Roman text, <i>De famosis libellis</i>, pronounces +death on those who have uttered libels hurtful to the +Emperor or to <i>the religion</i> of the Empire. The +Jesuits represent that religion. Therefore, a memorial +against a Jesuit deserves the last penalty.”</p> + +<p>A still better handle, however, was their second. At +the opening of the trial the episcopal judge, the prudent +Larmedieu, had asked her if she had never <i>divined</i> +the secrets of many people, and she had answered yes. +Therefore they might charge her with the practice +named in the list of forms employed in trials for +witchcraft, as <i>Divination and imposture</i>. This alone +in ecclesiastic law deserved the stake. They might,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span> +indeed, without much effort, call her a <i>Witch</i>, after the +confession made by the Ollioules ladies, that at one +same hour of the night she used to be in several cells +together. Their infatuation, the surprising tenderness +that suddenly came over them, had all the air of an +enchantment.</p> + +<p>What was there to prevent her being burnt? They +were still burning everywhere in the eighteenth century. +In one reign only, that of Philip V., sixteen +hundred people were burnt in Spain: one Witch was +burnt as late as 1782. In Germany one was burnt in +1751; in Switzerland one also in 1781. Rome was +always burning her victims, on the sly indeed, in the +dark holes and cells of the Inquisition.<a name="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a></p> + +<p>“But France, at least, is surely more humane?” +She is very inconsistent. In 1718, a Wizard is burnt +at Bordeaux.<a name="FNanchor_117_117" id="FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> In 1724 and 1726, the faggots were +lighted in Grève for offences which passed as schoolboy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span>jokes at Versailles. The guardians of the Royal +child, the Duke and Fleury, who are so indulgent to +the Court, are terrible to the town. A donkey-driver +and a noble, one M. des Chauffours, are burnt alive. +The advent of the Cardinal Minister could not be +celebrated more worthily than by a moral reformation, +by making a severe example of those who corrupted +the people. Nothing more timely than to pass some +terrible and solemn sentence on this infernal girl, +who made so heinous an assault on the innocent +Girard!</p> + +<p>Observe what was needed to wash that father clean. +It was needful to show that, even if he had done +wrong and imitated Des Chauffours, he had been the +sport of some enchantment. The documents were +but too plain. By the wording of the Canon Law, +and after these late decrees, somebody ought to be +burnt. Of the five magistrates on the bench, two +only would have burnt Girard. Three were against +Cadière. They came to terms. The three who +formed the majority would not insist on burning her, +would forego the long, dreadful scene at the stake, +would content themselves with a simple award of +death.</p> + +<p>In the name of these five, it was settled, pending +the final assent of Parliament, “That Cadière, +having first been put to the torture in both kinds, +should afterwards be removed to Toulon, and suffer +death by hanging on the Place des Prêcheurs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>This was a dreadful blow. An immense revulsion +of feeling at once took place. The worldlings, the +jesters ceased to laugh: they shuddered. Their love +of trifling did not lead them to slur over a result so +horrible. That a girl should be seduced, ill-used, +dishonoured, treated as a mere toy, that she should +die of grief, or of frenzy, they had regarded as right +and good; with all that they had no concern. But +when it was a case of punishment, when in fancy they +saw before them the woeful victim, with rope round her +neck, by the gallows where she was about to hang, their +hearts rose in revolt. From all sides went forth the +cry, “Never, since the world began, was there seen so +villanous a reversal of things; the law of rape administered +the wrong way, the girl condemned for having +been made a tool, the victim hanged by her seducer!”</p> + +<p>In this town of Aix, made up of judges, priests, +and the world of fashion, a thing unforeseen occurred: +a whole people suddenly rose, a violent popular movement +was astir. A crowd of persons of every class +marched in one close well-ordered body straight +towards the Ursulines. Cadière and her mother were +bidden to show themselves. “Make yourself easy, +mademoiselle,” they shouted: “we stand by you: +fear nothing!”</p> + +<p>The grand eighteenth century, justly called by +Hegel the “reign of mind,” was still grander as the +“reign of humanity.” Ladies of distinction, such as +the granddaughter of Mde. de Sévigné, the charming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span> +Madame de Simiane, took possession of the young +girl and sheltered her in their bosoms.</p> + +<p>A thing yet prettier and more touching was it, to +see the Jansenist ladies, elsewhile so sternly pure, so +hard towards each other, in their austerities so severe, +now in this great conjuncture offer up Law on the +altar of Mercy, by flinging their arms round the poor +threatened child, purifying her with kisses on the +forehead, baptizing her anew in tears.</p> + +<p>If Provence be naturally wild, she is all the more +wonderful in these wild moments of generosity and +real greatness. Something of this was later seen in +the earliest triumphs of Mirabeau, when he had a +million of men gathered round him at Marseilles. +But here already was a great revolutionary scene, a +vast uprising against the stupid Government of the +day, and Fleury’s pets the Jesuits: a unanimous uprising +in behalf of humanity, of compassion, in +defence of a woman, a very child, thus barbarously +offered up. The Jesuits fancied that among their +own rabble, among their clients and their beggars, +they might array a kind of popular force, armed with +handbells and staves to beat back the party of +Cadière. This latter, however, included almost everyone. +Marseilles rose up as one man to bear in +triumph the son of the Advocate Chaudon. Toulon +went so far for the sake of her poor townswoman, as +to think of burning the Jesuit college.</p> + +<p>The most touching of all these tokens in Cadière’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span> +favour, reached her from Ollioules. A simple boarder, +Mdlle. Agnes, for all her youthful shyness, followed the +impulse of her own heart, threw herself into the press +of pamphlets, and published a defence of Cadière.</p> + +<p>So widespread and deep a movement had its effect +on the Parliament itself. The foes of the Jesuits +raised their heads, took courage to defy the threats of +those above, the influence of the Jesuits, and the bolts +that Fleury might hurl upon them from Versailles.<a name="FNanchor_118_118" id="FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a></p> + +<p>The very friends of Girard, seeing their numbers +fall off, their phalanx grow thin, were eager for the +sentence. It was pronounced on the 11th October, +1731.</p> + +<p>In sight of the popular feeling, no one dared to +follow up the savage sentence of the bench, by getting +Cadière hanged. Twelve councillors sacrificed their +honour, by declaring Girard innocent. Of the twelve +others, some Jansenists condemned him to the flames +as a wizard; and three or four, with better reason, condemned +him to death as a scoundrel. Twelve being +against twelve, the President Lebret had to give the +casting vote. He found for Girard. Acquitted of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span>the capital crime of witchcraft, the latter was then +made over, as priest and confessor, to the Toulon +magistrate, his intimate friend Larmedieu, for trial in +the bishop’s court.</p> + +<p>The great folk and the indifferent ones were satisfied. +And so little heed was given to this award, that +even in these days it has been said that “both were +<i>acquitted</i>.” The statement is not correct. Cadière +was treated as a slanderer, was condemned to see her +memorials and other papers burnt by the hand of the +executioner.</p> + +<p>There was still a dreadful something in the background. +Cadière being so marked, so branded for the +use of calumny, the Jesuits were sure to keep pushing +underhand their success with Cardinal Fleury, and to +urge her being punished in some secret, arbitrary +way. Such was the notion imbibed by the town of +Aix. It felt that, instead of sending her home, Parliament +would rather <i>yield her up</i>. This caused so +fearful a rage, such angry menaces, against President +Lebret, that he asked to have the regiment of +Flanders sent thither.</p> + +<p>Girard was fleeing away in a close carriage, when +they found him out and would have killed him, had he +not escaped into the Jesuits’ Church. There the rascal +betook himself to saying mass. After his escape +thence he returned to Dôle, to reap honour and glory +from the Society. Here, in 1733, he died, <i>in the perfume +of holiness</i>. The courtier Lebret died in 1735.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span></p> + +<p>Cardinal Fleury did whatever the Jesuits pleased. +At Aix, Toulon, Marseilles, many were banished, or cast +into prison. Toulon was specially guilty, as having +borne Girard’s effigy to the doors of his <i>Girardites</i>, and +carried about the thrice holy standard of the Jesuits.</p> + +<p>According to the terms of the award, Cadière should +have been free to return home, to live again with her +mother. But I venture to say that she was never +allowed to re-enter her native town, that flaming +theatre wherein so many voices had been raised in +her behalf.</p> + +<p>If only to feel an interest in her was a crime deserving +imprisonment, we cannot doubt but that she +herself was presently thrown into prison; that the +Jesuits easily obtained a special warrant from Versailles +to lock up the poor girl, to hush up, to bury +with her an affair so dismal for themselves. They +would wait, of course, until the public attention was +drawn off to something else. Thereon the fatal clutch +would have caught her anew; she would have been +buried out of sight in some unknown convent, snuffed +out in some dark <i>In pace</i>.</p> + +<p>She was but one-and-twenty at the time of the +award, and she had always hoped to die soon. May +God have granted her that mercy!<a name="FNanchor_119_119" id="FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a></p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_114_114" id="Footnote_114_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> Muyart de Vouglans, in the sequel to his <i>Loix Criminelles</i>, +1780.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_115_115" id="Footnote_115_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> Alluding to the cruelties dealt on the Huguenots by the +French dragoons, at the close of Louis the Fourteenth’s +reign.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_116_116" id="Footnote_116_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> This fact comes to us from an adviser to the Holy Office, +still living.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_117_117" id="Footnote_117_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> I am not speaking of executions done by the people of +their own accord. A hundred years ago, in a village of Provence, +an old woman on being refused alms by a landowner, +said in her fury, “You will be dead to-morrow.” He was +smitten and died. The whole village, high and low, seized the +old woman, and set her on a bundle of vine-twigs. She was +burnt alive. The Parliament made a feint of inquiring, but +punished nobody.—[In 1751 an old couple of Tring, in Hertfordshire, +according to Wright, were tortured, kicked, and +beaten to death, on the plea of witchcraft, by a maddened +country mob.—<span class="smcap">Trans.</span>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_118_118" id="Footnote_118_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> There is a laughable tale which expresses the state of +Parliament with singular nicety. The Recorder was reading +his comments on the trial, on the share the Devil might have +had therein, when a loud noise was heard. A black man fell +down the chimney. In their fright they all ran away, save +the Recorder only, who, being entangled in his robe, could not +move. The man made some excuse. It was simply a chimneysweep +who had mistaken his chimney.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_119_119" id="Footnote_119_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> Touching this matter, Voltaire is very flippant: he scoffs +at both parties, especially the Jansenists. The historians of +our own day, MM. Cabasse, Fabre, Méry, not having read the +<i>Trial</i>, believe themselves impartial, while they are bearing +down the victim.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span></h2> + + +<p class="noind"><span class="smcap">A woman</span> of genius, in a burst of noble tenderness, +has figured to herself the two spirits whose strife +moulded the Middle Ages, as coming at last to recognise +each other, to draw together, to renew their +olden friendship. Looking closer at each other, they +discern, though somewhat late, the marks of a common +parentage. How if they were indeed brethren, and +this long battle nought but a mistake? Their hearts +speak, and they are softened. The haughty outlaw +and the gentle persecutor have forgotten everything: +they dart forward and throw themselves into each +other’s arms.—(<i>Consuelo.</i>)</p> + +<p>A charming, womanly idea. Others, too, have +dreamed the same dream. The sweet Montanelli +turned it into a beautiful poem. Ay, who would not +welcome the delightful hope of seeing the battle here +hushed down and finished by an embrace so moving?</p> + +<p>What does the wise Merlin think of it? In the +mirror of his lake, whose depths are known to himself +only, what did he behold? What said he in the colossal +epic produced by him in 1860? Why, that Satan +will not disarm, if disarm he ever do, until the Day of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span> +Judgment. Then, side by side, at peace with each +other, the two will fall asleep in a common death.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It is not so hard, indeed, to bend them into a kind +of compromise. The weakening, relaxing effects of so +long a battle allow of their mingling in a certain way. +In the last chapter we saw two shadows agreeing to +form an alliance in deceit; the Devil appearing as the +friend of Loyola, devotees and demoniacs marching +abreast, Hell touched to softness in the Sacred Heart.</p> + +<p>It is a quiet time now, and people hate each other +less than formerly. They hate few indeed but their +own friends. I have seen Methodists admiring +Jesuits. Those lawyers and physicians whom the +Church in the Middle Ages called the children of +Satan, I have seen making shrewd covenant with the +old conquered Spirit.</p> + +<p>But get we away from these pretences. They who +gravely propose that Satan should make peace and +settle down, have they thought much about the matter?</p> + +<p>There is no hindrance as regards ill-will. The dead +are dead. The millions of former victims sleep in +peace, be they Albigenses, Vaudois, or Protestants, +Moors, Jews, or American Indians. The Witch, +universal martyr of the Middle Ages, has nought to +say. Her ashes have been scattered to the winds.</p> + +<p>Know you, then, what it is that raises a protest, that +keeps these two spirits steadily apart, preventing them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span> +from coming nearer? It is a huge reality, born five +hundred years ago; a gigantic creation accursed by +the Church, even that mighty fabric of science and +modern institutions, which she excommunicated stone +by stone, but which with every anathema has grown a +storey higher. You cannot name one science which +has not been itself a rebellion.</p> + +<p>There is but one way of reconciling the two spirits, +of joining into one the two churches. Demolish the +younger, that one which from its first beginning was +pronounced guilty and doomed as such. Let us, if +we can, destroy the natural sciences, the observatory, +the museum, the botanical garden, the schools of +medicine, and all the modern libraries. Let us burn +our laws, our bodies of statutes, and return to the +Canon Law.</p> + +<p>All these novelties came of Satan. Each step forward +has been a crime of his doing.</p> + +<p>He was the wicked logician who, despising the +clerical law, preserved and renewed that of jurists and +philosophers, grounded on an impious faith, on the +freedom of the will.</p> + +<p>He was that dangerous magician who, while men +were discussing the sex of angels and other questions +of like sublimity, threw himself fiercely on realities, +and created chemistry, physics, mathematics—ay, +even mathematics. He sought to revive them, and +that was rebellion. People were burnt for saying that +three made three.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span></p> + +<p>Medicine especially was a Satanic thing, a rebellion +against disease, the scourge so justly dealt by God. +It was clearly sinful to check the soul on its way +towards heaven, to plunge it afresh into life!</p> + +<p>What atonement shall we make for all this? How +are we to put down, to overthrow, this pile of insurrections, +whereof at this moment all modern life is +made up? Will Satan destroy his work, that he +may tread once more the way of angels? That work +rests on three everlasting rocks, Reason, Right, and +Nature.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>So great is the triumph of the new spirit, that he +forgets his battles, hardly at this moment deigns to +remember that he has won.</p> + +<p>It were not amiss to remind him of his wretched +beginnings, how coarsely mean, how rude and painfully +comic were the shapes he wore in the season of +persecution, when through a woman, even the unhappy +Witch, he made his first homely flights in science. +Bolder than the heretic, the half-Christian reasoner, +the scholar who kept one foot within the sacred circle, +this woman eagerly escaped therefrom, and under the +open sunlight tried to make herself an altar of rough +moorland stones.</p> + +<p>She has perished, as she was certain to perish. By +what means? Chiefly by the progress of those very +sciences which began with her, through the physician, +the naturalist, for whom she had once toiled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Witch has perished for ever, but not the Fay. +She will reappear in the form that never dies.</p> + +<p>Busied in these latter days with the affairs of men, +Woman has in return given up her rightful part, that +of the physician, the comforter, the healing Fairy. +Herein lies her proper priesthood—a priesthood that +does belong to her, whatever the Church may say.</p> + +<p>Her delicate organs, her fondness for the least detail, +her tender consciousness of life, all invite her to +become Life’s shrewd interpreter in every science of +observation. With her tenderly pitiful heart, her +power of divining goodness, she goes of her own +accord to the work of doctoring. There is but small +difference between children and sick people. For both +of them we need the Woman.</p> + +<p>She will return into the paths of science, whither, +as a smile of nature, gentleness and humanity will +enter by her side.</p> + +<p>The Anti-natural is growing dim, nor is the day far +off when its eclipse will bring back daylight to the +earth.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The gods may vanish, but God is still there. Nay, +but the less we see of them, the more manifest is He. +He is like a lighthouse eclipsed at moments, but +alway shining again more clearly than before.</p> + +<p>It is a remarkable thing to see Him discussed so +fully, even in the journals themselves. People begin +to feel that all questions of education, government,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span> +childhood, and womanhood, turn on that one ruling +and underlying question. As God is, so must the +world be.</p> + +<p>From this we gather that the times are ripe.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>So near, indeed, is that religious dayspring that I +seemed momently to see it breaking over the desert +where I brought this book to an end.</p> + +<p>How full of light, how rough and beautiful looked +this desert of mine! I had made my nest on a rock +in the mighty roadstead of Toulon, in a lowly villa +surrounded with aloe and cypress, with the prickly +pear and the wild rose. Before me was a spreading +basin of sparkling sea; behind me the bare-topt amphitheatre, +where, at their ease, might sit the Parliament +of the world.</p> + +<p>This spot, so very African, bedazzles you in the +daytime with flashings as of steel. But of a winter +morning, especially in December, it seemed full of a +divine mystery. I was wont to rise exactly at six +o’clock, when the signal for work was boomed from +the Arsenal gun. From six to seven I enjoyed a +delicious time of it. The quick—may I call it piercing?—twinkle +of the stars made the moon ashamed, +and fought against the daybreak. Before its coming, +and during the struggle between two lights, the +wonderful clearness of the air would let things be +seen and heard at incredible distances. Two leagues +away I could make everything out. The smallest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span> +detail about the distant mountains, a tree, a cliff, a +house, a bend in the ground, was thrown out with +the most delicate sharpness. New senses seemed to +be given me. I found myself another being, released +from bondage, free to soar away on my new wings. +It was an hour of utter purity, all hard and clear. +I said to myself, “How is this? Am I still a +man?”</p> + +<p>An unspeakable bluish hue, respected, left untouched +by the rosy dawn, hung round me like a sacred +ether, a spirit that made all things spiritual.</p> + +<p>One felt, however, a forward movement, through +changes soft and slow. The great marvel was drawing +nearer, to shine forth and eclipse all other things. It +came on in its own calm way: you felt no wish to +hurry it. The coming transfiguration, the expected +witcheries of the light, took not a whit away from the +deep enjoyment of being still under the divinity of +night, still, as it were, half-hidden, and slow to emerge +from so wonderful a spell.... Come forth, O Sun! +We worship thee while yet unseen, but will reap all +of good we yet may from these last moments of our +dream!</p> + +<p>He is about to break forth. In hope let us await +his welcome.</p> + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 2em">THE END.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="LIST_OF_LEADING_AUTHORITIES" id="LIST_OF_LEADING_AUTHORITIES"></a>LIST OF LEADING AUTHORITIES.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span></h2> + +<ul> +<li>Graesse, <i>Bibliotheca Magiæ</i>, Leipsic, 1843.</li> +<li><i>Magie Antique</i>—as edited by Soldan, A. Maury, &c.</li> +<li>Calcagnini, <i>Miscell., Magia Amatoria Antiqua</i>, 1544.</li> +<li>J. Grimm, <i>German Mythology</i>.</li> +<li><i>Acta Sanctorum.</i>—Acta SS. Ordinis S. Benedicti.</li> +<li>Michael Psellus, <i>Energie des Démons</i>, 1050.</li> +<li>Cæsar of Heisterbach, <i>Illustria Miracula</i>, 1220.</li> +<li><i>Registers of the Inquisition</i>, 1307-1326, in Limburch; and the extracts given by Magi, Llorente, Lamothe-Langon, &c.</li> +<li><i>Directorium.</i> Eymerici, 1358.</li> +<li>Llorente, <i>The Spanish Inquisition</i>.</li> +<li>Lamothe-Langon, <i>Inquisition de France</i>.</li> +<li><i>Handbooks of the Monk-Inquisitors of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries</i>: Nider’s <i>Formicarius</i>; Sprenger’s <i>Malleus</i>.</li> +<li>C. Bernardus’s <i>Lucerna</i>; Spina, Grillandus, &c.</li> +<li>H. Corn. Agrippæ <i>Opera</i>, Lyons.</li> +<li>Paracelsi <i>Opera</i>.</li> +<li>Wyer, <i>De Prestigiis Dæmonum</i>, 1569.</li> +<li>Bodin, <i>Démonomanie</i>, 1580.</li> +<li>Remigius, <i>Demonolatria</i>, 1596.</li> +<li>Del Rio, <i>Disquisitiones Magicæ</i>, 1599.</li> +<li>Boguet, <i>Discours des Sorciers</i>, Lyons, 1605.</li> +<li>Leloyer, <i>Histoire des Spectres</i>, Paris, 1605.</li> +<li>Lancre, <i>Inconstance</i>, 1612: <i>Incredulité</i>, 1622.</li> +<li>Michaëlis, <i>Histoire d’une Pénitente, &c.</i>, 1613.</li> +<li>Tranquille, <i>Relation de Loudun</i>, 1634.</li> +<li><i>Histoire des Diables de Loudun</i> (by Aubin), 1716.</li> +<li><i>Histoire de Madeleine Bavent</i>, de Louviers, 1652.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span></li> +<li><i>Examen de Louviers. Apologie de l’Examen</i> (by Yvelin), 1643.</li> +<li><i>Procès du P. Girard et de la Cadière</i>; Aix, 1833.</li> +<li><i>Pièces relatives à ce Procès</i>; 5 vols., Aix, 1833.</li> +<li><i>Factum, Chansons, relatifs, &c.</i> MSS. in the Toulon Library.</li> +<li>Eugène Salverte, <i>Sciences Occultes</i>, with Introduction by Littré.</li> +<li>A. Maury, <i>Les Fées</i>, 1843; <i>Magie</i>, 1860.</li> +<li>Soldan, <i>Histoire des Procès de Sorcellerie</i>, 1843.</li> +<li>Thos. Wright, <i>Narratives of Sorcery, &c.</i>, 1851.</li> +<li>L. Figuier, <i>Histoire du Merveilleux</i>, 4 vols.</li> +<li>Ferdinand Denis, <i>Sciences Occultes: Monde Enchanté</i>.</li> +<li><i>Histoire des Sciences au Moyen Age</i>, by Sprenger, Pouchet, Cuvier, &c.</li> +</ul> + + + +<p class="end">Printed by Woodfall and Kinder, Angel Court, Skinner Street, London.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of La Sorcire: The Witch of the Middle +Ages, by Jules Michelet + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA SORCIRE *** + +***** This file should be named 31420-h.htm or 31420-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/4/2/31420/ + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: La Sorciere: The Witch of the Middle Ages + +Author: Jules Michelet + +Translator: Lionel James Trotter + +Release Date: February 27, 2010 [EBook #31420] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA SORCIERE *** + + + + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + +LA SORCIERE. + +J. MICHELET. + +LONDON: +PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER, +ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET. + + + + +THE WITCH OF THE MIDDLE AGES. + +FROM THE FRENCH OF J. MICHELET. + +BY L. J. TROTTER. + + +(_The only Authorized English Translation._) + + +LONDON: +SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO., +STATIONERS' HALL COURT. +MDCCCLXIII. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +In this translation of a work rich in the raciest beauties and defects +of an author long since made known to the British public, the present +writer has striven to recast the trenchant humour, the scornful +eloquence, the epigrammatic dash of Mr. Michelet, in language not all +unworthy of such a word-master. How far he has succeeded others may be +left to judge. In one point only is he aware of having been less true +to his original than in theory he was bound to be. He has slurred or +slightly altered a few of those passages which French readers take as +a thing of course, but English ones, because of their different +training, are supposed to eschew. A Frenchman, in short, writes for +men, an Englishman rather for drawing-room ladies, who tolerate +grossness only in the theatres and the columns of the newspapers. Mr. +Michelet's subject, and his late researches, lead him into details, +moral and physical, which among ourselves are seldom mixed up with +themes of general talk. The coarsest of these have been pruned away, +but enough perhaps remain to startle readers of especial prudery. The +translator, however, felt that he had no choice between shocking +these and sinning against his original. Readers of a larger culture +will make allowance for such a strait, will not be so very frightened +at an amount of plain-speaking, neither in itself immoral, nor, on the +whole, impertinent. Had he docked his work of everything condemned by +prudish theories, he might have made it more conventionally decent; +but Michelet would have been puzzled to recognize himself in the poor +maimed cripple that would then have borne his name. + +Nor will a reader of average shrewdness mistake the religious drift of +a book suppressed by the Imperial underlings in the interests neither +of religion nor of morals, but merely of Popery in its most outrageous +form. If its attacks on Rome seem, now and then, to involve +Christianity itself, we must allow something for excess of warmth, and +something for the nature of inquiries which laid bare the rotten +outgrowths of a religion in itself the purest known among men. In +studying the so-called Ages of Faith, the author has only found them +worthy of their truer and older title, the Ages of Darkness. It is +against the tyranny, feudal and priestly, of those days, that he +raises an outcry, warranted almost always by facts which a more +mawkish philosophy refuses to see. If he is sometimes hasty and +onesided; if the Church and the Feudal System of those days had their +uses for the time being; it is still a gain to have the other side of +the subject kept before us by way of counterpoise to the doctrines +now in vogue. We need not be intolerant; but Rome is yet alive. + +Taken as a whole, Mr. Michelet's book cannot be called unchristian. +Like most thoughtful minds of the day, he yearns for some nobler and +larger creed than that of the theologians; for a creed which, +understanding Nature, shall reconcile it with Nature's God. Nor may he +fairly be called irreverent for talking, Frenchman like, of things +spiritual with the same freedom as he would of things temporal. +Perhaps in his heart of hearts he has nearly as much religious +earnestness as they who call Dr. Colenso an infidel, and shake their +heads at the doubtful theology of Frederic Robertson. At any rate, no +translator who should cut or file away so special a feature of French +feeling would be doing justice to so marked an original. + +For English readers who already know the concise and sober volumes of +their countryman, Mr. Wright, the present work will offer mainly an +interesting study of the author himself. It is a curious compound of +rhapsody and sound reason, of history and romance, of coarse realism +and touching poetry, such as, even in France, few save Mr. Michelet +could have produced. Founded on truth and close inquiry, it still +reads more like a poem than a sober history. As a beautiful +speculation, which has nearly, but not quite, grasped the physical +causes underlying the whole history of magic and illusion in all ages, +it may be read with profit as well as pleasure in this age of vulgar +spirit-rapping. But the true history of Witchcraft has yet to be +written by some cooler hand. + + L. T. + + _May 11th, 1863._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + +INTRODUCTION 1 + To One Wizard Ten Thousand Witches 1 + The Witch was the sole Physician of the People 4 + Terrorism of the Middle Ages 5 + The Witch was the Offspring of Despair 9 + She in her Turn created Satan 12 + Satan, Prince of the World, Physician, Innovator 13 + His School--of Witches, Shepherds, and Headsmen 15 + His Decline 16 + + +BOOK I. + +CHAPTER I.--THE DEATH OF THE GODS 19 + Christianity thought the World was Dying 20 + The World of Demons 24 + The Bride of Corinth 26 + +CHAPTER II.--WHY THE MIDDLE AGES FELL INTO DESPAIR 30 + The People make their own Legends 31 + But are forbidden to do so any more 35 + The People guard their Territory 38 + But are made Serfs 40 + +CHAPTER III.--THE LITTLE DEVIL OF THE FIRESIDE 43 + Ancient Communism of the _Villa_ 43 + The Hearth made independent 44 + The Wife of the Serf 45 + Her Loyalty to the Olden Gods 46 + The Goblin 53 + +CHAPTER IV.--TEMPTATIONS 57 + The Serf invokes the Spirit of Hidden Treasures 58 + Feudal Raids 59 + The Wife turns her Goblin into a Devil 66 + +CHAPTER V.--POSSESSION 69 + The Advent of Gold in 1300 69 + The Woman makes Terms with the Demon of Gold 71 + Impure Horrors of the Middle Ages 75 + The Village Lady 78 + Hatred of the Lady of the Castle 84 + +CHAPTER VI.--THE COVENANT 88 + The Woman-serf gives Herself up to the Devil 90 + The Moor and the Witch 93 + +CHAPTER VII.--THE KING OF THE DEAD 96 + The dear Dead are brought back to Earth 97 + The Idea of Satan is softened 103 + +CHAPTER VIII.--THE PRINCE OF NATURE 106 + The Thaw in the Middle Ages 108 + The Witch calls forth the East 109 + She conceives Nature 112 + +CHAPTER IX.--THE DEVIL A PHYSICIAN 116 + Diseases of the Middle Ages 116 + The _Comforters_, or Solaneae 121 + The Middle Ages anti-natural 128 + +CHAPTER X.--CHARMS AND PHILTRES 131 + Blue-Beard and Griselda 133 + The Witch consulted by the Castle 137 + Her Malice 141 + +CHAPTER XI.--THE REBELS' COMMUNION--SABBATHS--THE BLACK MASS 143 + The old Half-heathen Sabasies 144 + The Four Acts of the Black Mass 150 + Act I. The Introit, the Kiss, the Banquet 151 + Act II. The Offering: the Woman as Altar and Host 153 + +CHAPTER XII.--THE SEQUEL--LOVE AND DEATH--SATAN DISAPPEARS 157 + Act III. Love of near Kindred 158 + Act IV. Death of Satan and the Witch 165 + + +BOOK II. + +CHAPTER I.--THE WITCH IN HER DECLINE--SATAN MULTIPLIED AND MADE + COMMON 168 + Witches and Wizards employed by the Great 172 + The Wolf-lady 174 + The last Philtre 179 + +CHAPTER II.--PERSECUTIONS 180 + The Hammer for Witches 181 + Satan Master of the World 193 + +CHAPTER III.--CENTURY OF TOLERATION IN FRANCE: REACTION 198 + Spain begins when France stops short 199 + Reaction: French Lawyers burn as many as the Priests 203 + +CHAPTER IV.--THE WITCHES OF THE BASQUE COUNTRY 207 + They give Instructions to their own Judges 212 + +CHAPTER V.--SATAN TURNS PRIEST 218 + Jokes of the Modern Sabbath 221 + +CHAPTER VI.--GAUFFRIDI: 1610 228 + Wizard Priests prosecuted by Monks 232 + Jealousies of the Nuns 234 + +CHAPTER VII.--THE DEMONIACS OF LOUDUN: URBAN GRANDIER 255 + The Vicar a fine Speaker, and a Wizard 263 + Sickly Rages of the Nuns 264 + +CHAPTER VIII.--THE DEMONIACS OF LOUVIERS--MADELINE BAVENT 277 + Illuminism: the Devil a Quietist 277 + Fight between the Devil and the Doctor 285 + +CHAPTER IX.--THE DEVIL TRIUMPHS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 294 + +CHAPTER X.--FATHER GIRARD AND LA CADIERE 303 + +CHAPTER XI.--CADIERE IN THE CONVENT 339 + +CHAPTER XII.--TRIAL OF CADIERE 367 + +EPILOGUE 395 + Can Satan and Jesus be reconciled? 396 + The Witch is dead, but the Fairy will live again 399 + Oncoming of the Religious Revival 399 + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +It was said by Sprenger, before the year 1500, "_Heresy of witches_, +not of wizards, must we call it, for these latter are of very small +account." And by another, in the time of Louis XIII.: "To one wizard, +ten thousand witches." + +"Witches they are by nature." It is a gift peculiar to woman and her +temperament. By birth a fay, by the regular recurrence of her ecstasy +she becomes a sibyl. By her love she grows into an enchantress. By her +subtlety, by a roguishness often whimsical and beneficent, she becomes +a Witch; she works her spells; does at any rate lull our pains to rest +and beguile them. + +All primitive races have the same beginning, as so many books of +travel have shown. While the man is hunting and fighting, the woman +works with her wits, with her imagination: she brings forth dreams and +gods. On certain days she becomes a seeress, borne on boundless wings +of reverie and desire. The better to reckon up the seasons, she +watches the sky; but her heart belongs to earth none the less. Young +and flower-like herself, she looks down toward the enamoured flowers, +and forms with them a personal acquaintance. As a woman, she beseeches +them to heal the objects of her love. + +In a way so simple and touching do all religion and all science begin. +Ere long everything will get parcelled out; we shall mark the +beginning of the professional man as juggler, astrologer, or prophet, +necromancer, priest, physician. But at first the woman is everything. + +A religion so strong and hearty as that of Pagan Greece begins with +the Sibyl to end in the Witch. The former, a lovely maiden in the +broad daylight, rocked its cradle, endowed it with a charm and glory +of its own. Presently it fell sick, lost itself in the darkness of the +Middle Ages, and was hidden away by the Witch in woods and wilds: +there, sustained by her compassionate daring, it was made to live +anew. Thus, of every religion woman is the mother, the gentle +guardian, the faithful nurse. With her the gods fare like men: they +are born and die upon her bosom. + + * * * * * + +Alas! her loyalty costs her dear. Ye magian queens of Persia; +bewitching Circe; sublime Sibyl! Into what have ye grown, and how +cruel the change that has come upon you! She who from her throne in +the East taught men the virtues of plants and the courses of the +stars; who, on her Delphic tripod beamed over with the god of light, +as she gave forth her oracle to a world upon its knees;--she also it +is whom, a thousand years later, people hunt down like a wild beast; +following her into the public places, where she is dishonoured, +worried, stoned, or set upon the burning coals! + +For this poor wretch the priesthood can never have done with their +faggots, nor the people with their insults, nor the children with +their stones. The poet, childlike, flings her one more stone, for a +woman the cruellest of all. On no grounds whatever, he imagines her to +have been always old and ugly. The word "witch" brings before us the +frightful old women of _Macbeth_. But their cruel processes teach us +the reverse of that. Numbers perished precisely for being young and +beautiful. + +The Sibyl foretold a fortune, the Witch accomplishes one. Here is the +great, the true difference between them. The latter calls forth a +destiny, conjures it, works it out. Unlike the Cassandra of old, who +awaited mournfully the future she foresaw so well, this woman herself +creates the future. Even more than Circe, than Medea, does she bear in +her hand the rod of natural miracle, with Nature herself as sister and +helpmate. Already she wears the features of a modern Prometheus. With +her industry begins, especially that queen-like industry which heals +and restores mankind. As the Sibyl seemed to gaze upon the morning, so +she, contrariwise, looks towards the west; but it is just that gloomy +west, which long before dawn--as happens among the tops of the +Alps--gives forth a flush anticipant of day. + +Well does the priest discern the danger, the bane, the alarming +rivalry, involved in this priestess of nature whom he makes a show of +despising. From the gods of yore she has conceived other gods. Close +to the Satan of the Past we see dawning within her a Satan of the +Future. + + * * * * * + +The only physician of the people for a thousand years was the Witch. +The emperors, kings, popes, and richer barons had indeed their doctors +of Salerno, their Moors and Jews; but the bulk of people in every +state, the world as it might well be called, consulted none but the +_Saga_, or wise-woman. When she could not cure them, she was insulted, +was called a Witch. But generally, from a respect not unmixed with +fear, she was called good lady or fair lady (_belle dame_--_bella +donna_[1]), the very name we give to the fairies. + + [1] Whence our old word _Beldam_, the more courteous meaning + of which is all but lost in its ironical one.--TRANS. + +Soon there came upon her the lot which still befalls her favourite +plant, belladonna, and some other wholesome poisons which she employed +as antidotes to the great plagues of the Middle Ages. Children and +ignorant passers-by would curse those dismal flowers before they knew +them. Affrighted by their questionable hues, they shrink back, keep +far aloof from them. And yet among them are the _comforters_ +(Solaneae) which, when discreetly employed, have cured so many, have +lulled so many sufferings to sleep. + +You find them in ill-looking spots, growing all lonely and ill-famed +amidst ruins and rubbish-heaps. Therein lies one other point of +resemblance between these flowers and her who makes use of them. For +where else than in waste wildernesses could live the poor wretch whom +all men thus evilly entreated; the woman accursed and proscribed as a +poisoner, even while she used to heal and save; as the betrothed of +the Devil and of evil incarnate, for all the good which, according to +the great physician of the Renaissance, she herself had done? When +Paracelsus, at Basle, in 1527, threw all medicine into the fire,[2] he +avowed that he knew nothing but what he had learnt from witches. + + [2] Alluding to the bonfire which Paracelsus, as professor of + medicine, made of the works of Galen and Avicenna.--TRANS. + +This was worth a requital, and they got it. They were repaid with +tortures, with the stake. For them new punishments, new pangs, were +expressly devised. They were tried in a lump; they were condemned by a +single word. Never had there been such wastefulness of human life. Not +to speak of Spain, that classic land of the faggot, where Moor and Jew +are always accompanied by the Witch, there were burnt at Treves seven +thousand, and I know not how many at Toulouse; five hundred at Geneva +in three months of 1513; at Wurtzburg eight hundred, almost in one +batch, and fifteen hundred at Bamberg; these two latter being very +small bishoprics! Even Ferdinand II., the savage Emperor of the Thirty +Years' War, was driven, bigot as he was, to keep a watch on these +worthy bishops, else they would have burned all their subjects. In the +Wurtzburg list I find one Wizard a schoolboy, eleven years old; a +Witch of fifteen: and at Bayonne two, infernally beautiful, of +seventeen years. + +Mark how, at certain seasons, hatred wields this one word _Witch_, as +a means of murdering whom she will. Woman's jealousy, man's greed, +take ready hold of so handy a weapon. Is such a one wealthy? _She is a +Witch._ Is that girl pretty? _She is a Witch._ You will even see the +little beggar-woman, La Murgui, leave a death-mark with that fearful +stone on the forehead of a great lady, the too beautiful dame of +Lancinena. + +The accused, when they can, avert the torture by killing themselves. +Remy, that excellent judge of Lorraine, who burned some eight hundred +of them, crows over this very fear. "So well," said he, "does my way +of justice answer, that of those who were arrested the other day, +sixteen, without further waiting, strangled themselves forthwith." + + * * * * * + +Over the long track of my History, during the thirty years which I +have devoted to it, this frightful literature of witchcraft passed to +and fro repeatedly through my hands. First I exhausted the manuals of +the Inquisition, the asinine foolings of the Dominicans. (_Scourges_, +_Hammers_, _Ant-hills_, _Floggings_, _Lanterns_, &c., are the titles +of their books.) Next, I read the Parliamentarists, the lay judges who +despised the monks they succeeded, but were every whit as foolish +themselves. One word further would I say of them here: namely, this +single remark, that, from 1300 to 1600, and yet later, but one kind of +justice may be seen. Barring a small interlude in the Parliament of +Paris, the same stupid savagery prevails everywhere, at all hours. +Even great parts are of no use here. As soon as witchcraft comes into +question, the fine-natured De Lancre, a Bordeaux magistrate and +forward politician under Henry IV., sinks back to the level of a +Nider, a Sprenger; of the monkish ninnies of the fifteenth century. + +It fills one with amazement to see these different ages, these men of +diverse culture, fail in taking the least step forward. Soon, however, +you begin clearly to understand how all were checked alike, or let us +rather say blinded, made hopelessly drunk and savage, by the poison of +their guiding principle. That principle lies in the statement of a +radical injustice: "On account of one man all are lost; are not only +punished but worthy of punishment; _depraved and perverted +beforehand_, dead to God even before their birth. The very babe at the +breast is damned." + +Who says so? Everyone, even Bossuet himself. A leading doctor in Rome, +Spina, a Master of the Holy Palace, formulates the question neatly: +"Why does God suffer the innocent to die?--For very good reasons: +even if they do not die on account of their own sins, they are always +liable to death as guilty of the original sin." (_De Strigibus_, ch. +9.) + +From this atrocity spring two results, the one pertaining to justice, +the other to logic. The judge is never at fault in his work: the +person brought before him is certainly guilty, the more so if he makes +a defence. Justice need never beat her head, or work herself into a +heat, in order to distinguish the truth from the falsehood. Everyhow +she starts from a foregone conclusion. Again, the logician, the +schoolman, has only to analyse the soul, to take count of the shades +it passes through, of its manifold nature, its inward strifes and +battles. He had no need, as we have, to explain how that soul may grow +wicked step by step. At all such niceties and groping efforts, how, if +even he could understand them, would he laugh and wag his head! And, +oh! how gracefully then would quiver those splendid ears which deck +his empty skull! + +Especially in treating of the _compact with the Devil_, that awful +covenant whereby, for the poor profit of one day, the spirit sells +itself to everlasting torture, we of another school would seek to +trace anew that road accursed, that frightful staircase of mishaps and +crimes, which had brought it to a depth so low. Much, however, cares +our fine fellow for all that! To him soul and Devil seem born for each +other, insomuch that on the first temptation, for a whim, a desire, a +passing fancy, the soul will throw itself at one stroke into so +horrible an extremity. + + * * * * * + +Neither do I find that the moderns have made much inquiry into the +moral chronology of witchcraft. They cling too much to the connection +between antiquity and the Middle Ages; connection real indeed, but +slight, of small importance. Neither from the magician of old, nor the +seeress of Celts and Germans, comes forth the true Witch. The harmless +"Sabasies" (from Bacchus Sabasius), and the petty rural "Sabbath" of +the Middle Ages, have nothing to do with the Black Mass of the +fourteenth century, with the grand defiance then solemnly given to +Jesus. This fearful conception never grew out of a long chain of +tradition. It leapt forth from the horrors of the day. + +At what date, then, did the Witch first appear? I say unfalteringly, +"In the age of despair:" of that deep despair which the gentry of the +Church engendered. Unfalteringly do I say, "The Witch is a crime of +their own achieving." + +I am not to be taken up short by the excuses which their sugary +explanations seem to furnish. "Weak was that creature, and giddy, and +pliable under temptation. She was drawn towards evil by her lust." +Alas! in the wretchedness, the hunger of those days, nothing of that +kind could have ruffled her even into a hellish rage. An amorous +woman, jealous and forsaken, a child hunted out by her step-mother, a +mother beaten by her son (old subjects these of story), if such as +they were ever tempted to call upon the Evil Spirit, yet all this +would make no Witch. These poor creatures may have called on Satan, +but it does not follow that he accepted them. They are still far, ay, +very far from being ripe for him. They have not yet learned to hate +God. + + * * * * * + +For the better understanding of this point, you should read those +hateful registers which remain to us of the Inquisition, not only in +the extracts given by Llorente, by Lamothe-Langon, &c., but in what +remains of the original registers of Toulouse. Read them in all their +flatness, in all their dryness, so dismal, so terribly savage. At the +end of a few pages you feel yourself stricken with a chill; a cruel +shiver fastens upon you; death, death, death, is traceable in every +line. Already you are in a bier, or else in a stone cell with mouldy +walls. Happiest of all are the killed. The horror of horrors is the +_In pace_. This phrase it is which comes back unceasingly, like an +ill-omened bell sounding again and again the heart's ruin of the +living dead: always we have the same word, "Immured." + +Frightful machinery for crushing and flattening; most cruel press for +shattering the soul! One turn of the screw follows another, until, all +breathless, and with a loud crack, it has burst forth from the machine +and fallen into the unknown world. + +On her first appearance the Witch has neither father nor mother, nor +son, nor husband, nor family. She is a marvel, an aerolith, alighted +no one knows whence. Who, in Heaven's name, would dare to draw near +her? + +Her place of abode? It is in spots impracticable, in a forest of +brambles, on a wild moor where thorn and thistle intertwining forbid +approach. The night she passes under an old cromlech. If anyone finds +her there, she is isolated by the common dread; she is surrounded, as +it were, by a ring of fire. + +And yet--would you believe it?--she is a woman still. This very life +of hers, dreadful though it be, tightens and braces her woman's +energy, her womanly electricity. Hence, you may see her endowed with +two gifts. One is the _inspiration of lucid frenzy_, which in its +several degrees, becomes poesy, second-sight, depth of insight, +cunning simplicity of speech, the power especially of believing in +yourself through all your delusions. Of such a gift the man, the +wizard, knows nothing. On his side no beginning would have been made. + +From this gift flows that other, the sublime power of _unaided +conception_, that parthenogenesis which our physiologists have come to +recognise, as touching fruitfulness of the body in the females of +several species; and which is not less a truth with regard to the +conceptions of the spirit. + + * * * * * + +By herself did she conceive and bring forth--what? A second self, who +resembles her in his self-delusions. The son of her hatred, conceived +upon her love; for without love can nothing be created. For all the +alarm this child gave her, she has become so well again, is so happily +engrossed with this new idol, that she places it straightway upon her +altar, to worship it, yield her life up to it, and offer herself up as +a living and perfect sacrifice. Very often she will even say to her +judge, "There is but one thing I fear; that I shall not suffer enough +for him."--(_Lancre._) + +Shall I tell you what the child's first effort was? It was a fearful +burst of laughter. Has he not cause for mirth on his broad prairie, +far away from the Spanish dungeons and the "immured" of Toulouse? The +whole world is his _In pace_. He comes, and goes, and walks to and +fro. His is the boundless forest, his the desert with its far +horizons, his the whole earth, in the fulness of its teeming girdle. +The Witch in her tenderness calls him "_Robin mine_," the name of that +bold outlaw, the joyous Robin Hood, who lived under the green bowers. +She delights too in calling him fondly by such names as _Little +Green_, _Pretty-Wood_, _Greenwood_; after the little madcap's +favourite haunts. He had hardly seen a thicket when he took to playing +the truant.[3] + + [3] Here, as in some other passages, the play of words in the + original is necessarily lost.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +What astounds one most is, that at one stroke the Witch should have +achieved an actual Being. He bears about him every token of reality. +We have heard and seen him; anyone could draw his likeness. + +The Saints, those darling sons of the house, with their dreams and +meditations make but little stir; _they look forward waitingly_, as +men assured of their part in Elysium. What little energy they have is +all centred in the narrow round of _Imitation_; a word which condenses +the whole of the Middle Ages. He on the other hand--this accursed +bastard whose only lot is the scourge--has no idea of waiting. He is +always seeking and will never rest. He busies himself with all things +between earth and heaven. He is exceedingly curious; will dig, dive, +ferret, and poke his nose everywhere. At the _consummatum est_ he only +laughs, the little scoffer! He is always saying "Further," or +"Forward." Moreover, he is not hard to please. He takes every rebuff; +picks up every windfall. For instance, when the Church throws out +nature as impure and doubtworthy, Satan fastens on her for his own +adornment. Nay, more; he employs her, and makes her useful to him as +the fountain-head of the arts; thus accepting the awful name with +which others would brand him; to wit, the _Prince of the World_. + +Some one rashly said, "Woe to those who laugh." Thus from the first +was Satan intrusted with too pretty a part; he had the sole right of +laughing, and of declaring it an _amusement_--rather let us say _a +necessity_; for laughing is essentially a natural function. Life +would be unbearable if we could not laugh, at least in our +afflictions. + +Looking on life as nothing but a trial, the Church is careful not to +prolong it. Her medicine is resignation, the looking for and the hope +of death. A broad field this for Satan! He becomes the physician, the +healer of the living. Better still, he acts as comforter: he is good +enough to shew us our dead, to call up the shades of our beloved. + +One more trifle the Church rejected, namely, logic or free reason. +Here was a special dainty, to which _the other_ greedily helped +himself. The Church had carefully builded up a small _In pace_, +narrow, low-roofed, lighted by one dim opening, a mere cranny. That +was called _The School_. Into it were turned loose a few shavelings, +with this commandment, "Be free." They all fell lame. In three or four +centuries the paralysis was confirmed, and Ockham's standpoint is the +very same as Abelard's.[4] + + [4] Abelard flourished in the twelfth, William of Ockham + (pupil of Duns Scotus) in the fourteenth century.--TRANS. + +It is pleasant to track the Renaissance up to such a point. The +Renaissance took place indeed, but how? Through the Satanic daring of +those who pierced the vault, through the efforts of the damned who +were bent on seeing the sky. And it took place yet more largely away +from the schools and the men of letters, in the _School of the Bush_, +where Satan had set up a class for the Witch and the shepherd. + +Perilous teaching it was, if so it happened; but the very dangers of +it heightened the eager passion, the uncontrollable yearning to see +and to know. Thus began those wicked sciences, physic debarred from +poisoning, and that odious anatomy. There, along with his survey of +the heavens, the shepherd who kept watch upon the stars applied also +his shameful nostrums, made his essays upon the bodies of animals. The +Witch would bring out a corpse stolen from the neighbouring cemetery; +and, for the first time, at risk of being burned, you might gaze upon +that heavenly wonder, "which men"--as M. Serres has well said--"are +foolish enough to bury, instead of trying to understand." + +Paracelsus, the only doctor whom Satan admitted there, saw yet a third +worker, who, stealing at times into that dark assembly, displayed +there his surgical art. This was the surgeon of those happy days, the +headsman stout of hand, who could play patly enough with the fire, +could break bones and set them again; who if he killed, would +sometimes save, by hanging one only for a certain time. + +By the more sacrilegious of its essays this convict university of +witches, shepherds, and headsmen, emboldened the other, obliged its +rival to study. For everyone wanted to live. The Witch would have got +hold of everything: people would for ever have turned their backs on +the doctor. And so the Church was fain to suffer, to countenance these +crimes. She avowed her belief in _good poisons_ (Grillandus). She +found herself driven and constrained to allow of public dissections. +In 1306 one woman, in 1315 another, was opened and dissected by the +Italian Mondino. Here was a holy revelation, the discovery of a +greater world than that of Christopher Columbus! Fools shuddered or +howled; but wise men fell upon their knees. + + * * * * * + +With such conquests the Devil was like enough to live on. Never could +the Church alone have put an end to him. The stake itself was useless, +save for some political objects. + +Men had presently the wit to cleave Satan's realm in twain. Against +the Witch, his daughter, his bride, they armed his son, the doctor. +Heartily, utterly as the Church loathed the latter, yet to extinguish +the Witch, she established his monopoly nevertheless. In the +fourteenth century she proclaimed, that any woman who dared to heal +others _without having duly studied_, was a witch and should therefore +die. + +But how was she to study in public? Fancy what a scene of mingled fun +and horror would have occurred, if the poor savage had risked an +entrance into the schools! What games and merry-makings there would +have been! On Midsummer Day they used to chain cats together and burn +them in the fire. But to tie up a Witch in that hell of caterwaulers, +a Witch yelling and roasting, what fun it would have been for that +precious crew of monklings and cowlbearers! + +In due time we shall see the decline of Satan. Sad to tell, we shall +find him pacified, turned into _a good old fellow_. He will be robbed +and plundered, until of the two masks he wore at the Sabbath, the +dirtiest is taken by Tartuffe. His spirit is still everywhere, but of +his bodily self, in losing the Witch he lost all. The wizards were +only wearisome. + +Now that we have hurled him so far downwards, are we fully aware of +what has happened? Was he not an important actor, an essential item in +the great religious machine just now slightly out of gear? All +organisms that work properly are twofold, twosided. Life can otherwise +not go on at all. It is a kind of balance between two forces, +opposite, symmetrical, but unequal; the lower answering to the other +as its counterpoise. The higher chafes at it, seeks to put it down. So +doing, it is all wrong. + +When Colbert, in 1672, got rid of Satan, with very little ceremony, by +forbidding the judges to entertain pleas of witchcraft, the sturdy +Parliament of Normandy with its sound Norman logic pointed out the +dangerous drift of such a decision. The Devil is nothing less than a +dogma holding on to all the rest. If you meddle with the Eternally +Conquered, are you not meddling with the Conqueror likewise? To doubt +the acts of the former, leads to doubting the acts of the second, the +miracles he wrought for the very purpose of withstanding the Devil. +The pillars of heaven are grounded in the Abyss. He who thoughtlessly +removes that base infernal, may chance to split up Paradise itself. + +Colbert could not listen, having other business to mind. But the Devil +perhaps gave heed and was comforted. Amidst such minor means of +earning a livelihood as spirit-rapping or table-turning, he grows +resigned, and believes at least that he will not die alone. + + + + +BOOK I. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE DEATH OF THE GODS. + + +Certain authors have declared that, shortly before the triumph of +Christianity, a voice mysterious ran along the shores of the AEgean +Sea, crying, "Great Pan is dead!" The old universal god of nature was +no more; and great was the joy thereat. Men fancied that with the +death of nature temptation itself was dead. After the troublings of so +long a storm, the soul of man was at length to find rest. + +Was it merely a question touching the end of that old worship, its +overthrow, and the eclipse of old religious rites? By no means. +Consult the earliest Christian records, and in every line you may read +the hope, that nature is about to vanish, life to be extinguished; +that the end of the world, in short, is very near. It is all over with +the gods of life, who have spun out its mockeries to such a length. +Everything is falling, breaking up, rushing down headlong. The whole +is becoming as nought: "Great Pan is dead!" + +It was nothing new that the gods must perish. Many an ancient worship +was grounded in that very idea. Osiris, Adonis die indeed in order to +rise again. On the stage itself, in plays which were only acted for +the feast days of the gods, AEschylus expressly averred by the mouth of +Prometheus, that some day they should suffer death: but how? As +conquered and laid low by the Titans, the ancient powers of nature. + +Here, however, things are quite otherwise. Alike in generals and +particulars, in the past and the future, would the early Christians +have cursed Nature herself. So utterly did they condemn her, as to +find the Devil incarnate in a flower. Swiftly may the angels come +again, who erst overwhelmed the cities of the Dead Sea! Oh, that they +may sweep off, may crumple up as a veil the hollow frame of this +world; may at length deliver the saints from their long trial! + +The Evangelist said, "The day is coming:" the Fathers, "It is coming +immediately." From the breaking-up of the Empire and the invasion of +the Barbarians, St. Augustin draws the hope that very soon no city +would remain but the city of God. + +And yet, how hard of dying is the world; how stubbornly bent on +living! Like Hezekiah, it begs a respite, one turn more of the dial. +Well, then, be it so until the year one thousand. But thereafter, not +one day. + + * * * * * + +Are we quite sure of what has been so often repeated, that the gods of +old had come to an end, themselves wearied and sickened of living; +that they were so disheartened as almost to send in their resignation; +that Christianity had only to blow upon these empty shades? + +They point to the gods in Rome; they point out those in the Capitol, +admitted there only by a kind of preliminary death, on the surrender, +I might say, of all their local pith; as having disowned their +country, as having ceased to be the representative spirits of the +nations. In order to receive them, indeed, Rome had performed on them +a cruel operation: they were enervated, bleached. Those great +centralized deities became in their official life the mournful +functionaries of the Roman Empire. But the decline of that Olympian +aristocracy had in no wise drawn down the host of home-born gods, the +mob of deities still keeping hold of the boundless country-sides, of +the woods, the hills, the fountains; still intimately blended with the +life of the country. These gods abiding in the heart of oaks, in +waters deep and rushing, could not be driven therefrom. + +Who says so? The Church. She rudely gainsays her own words. Having +proclaimed their death, she is indignant because they live. Time after +time, by the threatening voice of her councils[5] she gives them +notice of their death--and lo! they are living still. + + [5] See Mansi, Baluze; Council of Arles, 442; of Tours, 567; + of Leptines, 743; the Capitularies, &c., and even Gerson, + about 1400. + +"They are devils."--Then they must be alive. Failing to make an end of +them, men suffer the simple folk to clothe, to disguise them. By the +help of legends they come to be baptized, even to be foisted upon the +Church. But at least they are converted? Not yet. We catch them +stealthily subsisting in their own heathen character. + +Where are they? In the desert, on the moor, in the forest? Ay; but, +above all, in the house. They are kept up by the most intimate +household usages. The wife guards and hides them in her household +things, even in her bed. With her they have the best place in the +world, better than the temple,--the fireside. + + * * * * * + +Never was revolution so violent as that of Theodosius. Antiquity shows +no trace of such proscription of any worship. The Persian +fire-worshipper might, in the purity of his heroism, have insulted the +visible deities, but he let them stand nevertheless. He greatly +favoured the Jews, protecting and employing them. Greece, daughter of +the light, made merry with the gods of darkness, the tunbellied +Cabiri; but yet she bore with them, adopted them as workmen, even to +shaping out of them her own Vulcan. Rome in her majesty welcomed not +only Etruria, but even the rural gods of the old Italian labourer. She +persecuted the Druids, but only as the centre of a dangerous national +resistance. + +Christianity conquering sought and thought to slay the foe. It +demolished the schools, by proscribing logic and uprooting the +philosophers, whom Valens slaughtered. It razed or emptied the +temples, shivered to pieces the symbols. The new legend would have +been propitious to the family, had the father not been cancelled in +Saint Joseph; had the mother been set up as an educatress, as having +morally brought forth Jesus. A fruitful road there was, but abandoned +at the very outset through the effort to attain a high but barren +purity. + +So Christianity turned into that lonely path where the world was going +of itself; the path of a celibacy in vain opposed by the laws of the +emperors. Down this slope it was hurled headlong by the establishment +of monkery. + +But in the desert was man alone? The Devil kept him company with all +manner of temptations. He could not help himself, he was driven to +create anew societies, nay whole cities of anchorites. We all know +those dismal towns of monks which grew up in the Thebaid; how wild, +unruly a spirit dwelt among them; how deadly were their descents on +Alexandria. They talked of being troubled, beset by the Devil; and +they told no lie. + +A huge gap was made in the world; and who was to fill it? The +Christians said, The Devil, everywhere the Devil: _ubique daemon_.[6] + + [6] See the Lives of the Desert Fathers, and the authors + quoted by A. Maurie, _Magie_, 317. In the fourth century, the + Messalians, thinking themselves full of devils, spat and blew + their noses without ceasing; made incredible efforts to spit + them forth. + +Greece, like all other nations, had her _energumens_, who were sore +tried, possessed by spirits. The relation there is quite external; the +seeming likeness is really none at all. Here we have no spirits of any +kind: they are but black children of the Abyss, the ideal of +waywardness. Thenceforth we see them everywhere, those poor +melancholics, loathing, shuddering at their own selves. Think what it +must be to fancy yourself double, to believe in that _other_, that +cruel host who goes and comes and wanders within you, making you roam +at his pleasure among deserts, over precipices! You waste and weaken +more and more; and the weaker grows your wretched body, the more is it +worried by the devil. In woman especially these tyrants dwell, making +her blown and swollen. They fill her with an infernal _wind_, they +brew in her storms and tempests, play with her as the whim seizes +them, drive her to wickedness, to despair. + +And not ourselves only, but all nature, alas! becomes demoniac. If +there is a devil in the flower, how much more in the gloomy forest! +The light we think so pure teems with children of the night. The +heavens themselves--O blasphemy!--are full of hell. That divine +morning star, whose glorious beams not seldom lightened a Socrates, an +Archimedes, a Plato, what is it now become? A devil, the archfiend +Lucifer. In the eventime again it is the devil Venus who draws me into +temptation by her light so soft and mild. + +That such a society should wax wroth and terrible is not surprising. +Indignant at feeling itself so weak against devils, it persecutes them +everywhere, in the temples, at the altars once of the ancient worship, +then of the heathen martyrs. Let there be more feasts?--they will +likely be so many gatherings of idolaters. The Family itself becomes +suspected: for custom might bring it together round the ancient Lares. +And why should there be a family?--the empire is an empire of monks. + +But the individual man himself, thus dumb and isolated though he be, +still watches the sky, still honours his ancient gods whom he finds +anew in the stars. "This is he," said the Emperor Theodosius, "who +causes famines and all the plagues of the empire." Those terrible +words turned the blind rage of the people loose upon the harmless +Pagan. Blindly the law unchained all its furies against the law. + +Ye gods of Eld, depart into your tombs! Get ye extinguished, gods of +Love, of Life, of Light! Put on the monk's cowl. Maidens, become nuns. +Wives, forsake your husbands; or, if ye will look after the house, be +unto them but cold sisters. + +But is all this possible? What man's breath shall be strong enough to +put out at one effort the burning lamp of God? These rash endeavours +of an impious piety may evoke miracles strange and monstrous. Tremble, +guilty that ye are! + +Often in the Middle Ages will recur the mournful tale of the Bride of +Corinth. Told at a happy moment by Phlegon, Adrian's freedman, it +meets us again in the twelfth, and yet again in the sixteenth century, +as the deep reproof, the invincible protest of nature herself. + + * * * * * + +"A young man of Athens went to Corinth, to the house of one who had +promised him his daughter. Himself being still a heathen, he knew not +that the family which he thought to enter had just turned Christian. +It is very late when he arrives. They are all gone to rest, except the +mother, who serves up for him the hospitable repast and then leaves +him to sleep. Dead tired, he drops down. Scarce was he fallen asleep, +when a figure entered the room: 'tis a girl all clothed and veiled in +white; on her forehead a fillet of black and gold. She sees him. In +amazement she lifts her white hand: 'Am I, then, such a stranger in +the house already? Alas, poor recluse!... But I am ashamed, and +withdraw. Sleep on.' + +"'Stay, fair maiden! Here are Bacchus, Ceres, and with thee comes +Love. Fear not, look not so pale!' + +"'Ah! Away from me, young man! I have nothing more to do with +happiness. By a vow my mother made in her sickness my youth and my +life are bound for ever. The gods have fled, and human victims now are +our only sacrifices.' + +"'Ha! can it be thou, thou, my darling betrothed, who wast given me +from my childhood? The oath of our fathers bound us for evermore under +the blessing of heaven. Maiden, be mine!' + +"'No, my friend, not I. Thou shalt have my younger sister. If I moan +in my chilly dungeon, do thou in her arms think of me, of me wasting +away and thinking only of thee; of me whom the earth is about to cover +again.' + +"'Nay, I swear by this flame, the torch of Hymen, thou shalt come home +with me to my father. Rest thee, my own beloved.' + +"As a wedding-gift he offers her a cup of gold. She gives him her +chain, but instead of the cup desires a curl of his hair. + +"It is the hour of spirits; her pale lip drinks up the dark blood-red +wine. He too drinks greedily after her. He calls on the god of Love. +She still resisted, though her poor heart was dying thereat. But he +grows desperate, and falls weeping on the couch. Anon she throws +herself by his side. + +"'Oh! how ill thy sorrow makes me! Yet, if thou wast to touch me---- +Oh, horror!--white as the snow, and cold as ice, such, ah me! is thy +bride.' + +"'I will warm thee again: come to me, wert thou come from the very +grave.' + +"Sighs and kisses many do they exchange. + +"'Dost thou feel how warm I am?' + +"Love twines and holds them fast. Tears mingle with their joy. She +changes with the fire she drinks from his mouth: her icy blood is +aglow with passion; but the heart in her bosom will not beat. + +"But the mother was there listening. Soft vows, cries of wailing and +of pleasure. + +"'Hush, the cock is crowing: to-morrow night!' Then with kiss on kiss +they say farewell. + +"In wrath the mother enters; sees what? Her daughter. He would have +hidden her, covered her up. But freeing herself from him, she grew +from the couch up to the roof. + +"'O mother, mother, you grudge me a pleasant night; you would drive me +from this cosy spot! Was it not enough to have wrapped me in my +winding-sheet and borne me to the grave? A greater power has lifted up +the stone. In vain did your priests drone over the trench they dug for +me. Of what use are salt and water, where burns the fire of youth? The +earth cannot freeze up love. You made a promise; I have just reclaimed +my own. + +"'Alas, dear friend, thou must die: thou wouldst but pine and dry up +here. I have thy hair; it will be white to-morrow.... Mother, one last +prayer! Open my dark dungeon, set up a stake, and let the loving one +find rest in the flames. Let the sparks fly upward and the ashes +redden. We will go to our olden gods.'"[7] + + [7] Here I have suppressed a shocking phrase. Goethe, so + noble in the form, is not so in the spirit of his poem. He + spoils the marvel of the legend by sullying the Greek + conception with a horrible Slavish idea. As they are weeping, + he turns the maiden into a vampire. She comes because she + thirsts for blood, that she may suck the blood from his + heart. And he makes her coldly say this impious and unclean + thing: "When I have done with him, I will pass on to others: + the young blood shall fall a prey to my fury." + + In the Middle Ages this story put on a grotesque garb, by way + of frightening us with the _Devil Venus_. On the finger of + her statue a young man imprudently places a ring, which she + clasps tight, guarding it like a bride, and going in the + night to his couch, to assert her rights. He cannot rid + himself of his infernal spouse without an exorcism. The same + tale, foolishly applied to the Virgin, is found in the + _Fabliaux_. If my memory does not mislead me, Luther also, in + his "Table Talk," takes up the old story in a very coarse + way, till you quite smell the body. The Spanish Del Rio + shifts the scene of it to Brabant. The bride dies shortly + before her marriage; the death-bells are rung. The bridegroom + rushed wildly over the country. He hears a wail. It is she + herself wandering about the heath. "Seest thou not"--she + says--"who leads me?" But he catches her up and bears her + home. At this point the story threatened to become too + moving; but the hard inquisitor, Del Rio, cuts the thread. + "On lifting her veil," says he, "they found only a log of + wood covered with the skin of a corpse." The Judge le Loyer, + silly though he be, has restored the older version. + + Thenceforth these gloomy taletellers come to an end. The + story is useless when our own age begins; for then the bride + has triumphed. Nature comes back from the grave, not by + stealth, but as mistress of the house. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +WHY THE MIDDLE AGES FELL INTO DESPAIR. + + +"Be ye as newborn babes (_quasi modo geniti infantes_); be thoroughly +childlike in the innocence of your hearts; peaceful, forgetting all +disputes, calmly resting under the hand of Christ." Such is the kindly +counsel tendered by the Church to this stormy world on the morning +after the great fall. In other words: "Volcanoes, ruins, ashes, and +lava, become green. Ye parched plains, get covered with flowers." + +One thing indeed gave promise of the peace that reneweth: the schools +were all shut up, the way of logic forsaken. A method infinitely +simple for the doing away with argument, offered all men a gentle +slope, down which they had nothing to do but go. If the creed was +doubtful, the life was all traced out in the pathway of the legend. +From first to last but the one word _Imitation_. + +"Imitate, and all will go well. Rehearse and copy." But is this the +way to that true childhood which quickens the heart of man, which +leads back to its fresh and fruitful springs? In this world that is to +make us young and childlike, I see at first nothing but the tokens of +age; only cunning, slavishness, want of power. What kind of +literature is this, confronted with the glorious monuments of Greeks +and Jews? We have just the same literary fall as happened in India +from Brahminism to Buddhism; a twaddling flow of words after a noble +inspiration. Books copy from books, churches from churches, until they +cannot so much as copy. They pillage from each other: Aix-la-Chapelle +is adorned with the marbles torn from Ravenna. It is the same with all +the social life of those days. The bishop-king of a city, the savage +king of a tribe, alike copy the Roman magistrates. Original as one +might deem them, our monks in their monasteries simply restored their +ancient _Villa_, as Chateaubriand well said. They had no notion either +of forming a new society or of fertilizing the old. Copying from the +monks of the East, they wanted their servants at first to be +themselves a barren race of monkling workmen. It was in spite of them +that the family in renewing itself renewed the world. + +Seeing how fast these oldsters keep on oldening; how in one age we +fall from the wise monk St. Benedict down to the pedantic Benedict of +Aniane;[8] we feel that such gentry were wholly guiltless of that +great popular creation which bloomed amidst ruins; namely, the Lives +of the Saints. If the monks wrote, it was the people made them. This +young growth might throw out some leaves and flowers from the crannies +of an old Roman ruin turned into a convent: but most assuredly not +thence did it first arise. Its roots go deep into the ground: sown by +the people and cultivated by the family, it takes help from every +hand, from men, from women, from children. The precarious, troubled +life of those days of violence, made these poor folk imaginative, +prone to believe in their own dreams, as being to them full of +comfort: strange dreams withal, rich in marvels, in fooleries; absurd, +but charming. + + [8] Benedict founded a convent at Aniane in Languedoc, in the + reign of Charlemagne. + +These families, isolated in forests and mountains, as we still see +them in the Tyrol or the Higher Alps, and coming down thence but once +a week, never wanted for illusions in the desert. One child had seen +this, some woman had dreamed that. A new saint began to rise. The +story went abroad in the shape of a ballad with doggrel rhymes. They +sang and danced to it of an evening at the oak by the fountain. The +priest, when he came on Sunday to perform service in the woodland +chapel, found the legendary chant already in every mouth. He said to +himself, "After all, history is good, is edifying.... It does honour +to the Church. _Vox populi, vox Dei!_--But how did they light upon +it?" He could be shown the true, the irrefragable proofs of it in some +tree or stone which had witnessed the apparition, had marked the +miracle. What can he say to that? + +Brought back to the abbey, the tale will find a monk good for nothing, +who can only write; who is curious, believes everything, no matter +how marvellous. It is written out, broidered with his dull rhetoric, +and spoilt a little. But now it has come forth, confirmed and +consecrated, to be read in the refectory, ere long in the church. +Copied, loaded and overloaded with ornaments chiefly grotesque, it +will go on from age to age, until at last it comes to take high rank +in the Golden Legend. + + * * * * * + +When those fair stories are read again to us in these days, even as we +listen to the simple, grave, artless airs into which those rural +peoples threw all their young heart, we cannot help marking a great +inspiration; and we are moved to pity as we reflect upon their fate. + +They had taken literally the touching advice of the Church: "Be ye as +newborn babes." But they gave to it a meaning, the very last that one +would dream of finding in the original thought. As much as +Christianity feared and hated Nature, even so much did these others +cherish her, deeming her all guileless, hallowing her even in the +legends wherewith they mingled her up. + +Those _hairy_ animals, as the Bible sharply calls them, animals +mistrusted by the monks who fear to find devils among them, enter in +the most touching way into these beautiful stories; as the hind, for +instance, who refreshes and comforts Genevieve of Brabant. + +Even outside the life of legends, in the common everyday world, the +humble friends of his hearth, the bold helpmates of his work, rise +again in man's esteem. They have their own laws,[9] their own +festivals. If in God's unbounded goodness there is room for the +smallest creatures, if He seems to show them a pitying preference, +"Wherefore," says the countryman, "should my ass not have entered the +church? Doubtless, he has his faults, wherein he only resembles me the +more. He is a rough worker, but has a hard head; is intractable, +stubborn, headstrong; in short, just like myself." + + [9] See J. Grimm, _Rechts Alterthuemer_, and my _Origines du + Droit_. + +Thence come those wonderful feasts, the fairest of the Middle Ages; +feasts of _Innocents_, of _Fools_, of the _Ass_. It is the people +itself, moreover, which, in the shape of an ass, draws about its own +image, presents itself before the altar, ugly, comical, abased. +Verily, a touching sight! Led by Balaam, he enters solemnly between +Virgil and the Sibyl;[10] enters that he may bear witness. If he +kicked of yore against Balaam, it was that before him he beheld the +sword of the ancient law. But here the law is ended, and the world of +grace seems opening its two-leaved gate to the mean and to the simple. +The people innocently believes it all. Thereon comes that lofty hymn, +in which it says to the ass what it might have said to itself:-- + + "Down on knee and say _Amen_! + Grass and hay enough hast eaten. + Leave the bad old ways, and go! + + * * * * * + + For the new expels the old: + Shadows fly before the noon: + Light hath hunted out the night." + + [10] According to the ritual of Rouen. See Ducange on the + words _Festum_ and _Kalendae_: also Martene, iii. 110. The + Sibyl was crowned and followed by Jews and Gentiles, by + Moses, the Prophets, Nebuchadnezzar, &c. From a very early + time, and continually from the seventh to the seventeenth + century, the Church strove to proscribe the great people's + feasts of the Ass, of Innocents, of Children, and of Fools. + It never succeeded until the advent of the modern spirit. + +How bold and coarse ye are! Was it this we asked of you, children rash +and wayward, when we told you to be as children? We offered you milk; +you are drinking wine. We led you softly, bridle in hand, along the +narrow path. Mild and fearful, ye hesitated to go forward: and now, +all at once, the bridle is broken; the course is cleared at a single +bound. Ah! how foolish we were to let you make your own saints; to +dress out the altar; to deck, to burden, to cover it up with flowers! +Why, it is hardly distinguishable! And what we do see is the old +heresy condemned of the Church, _the innocence of nature_: what am I +saying?--a new heresy, not like to end to-morrow, _the independence of +man_. + +Listen and obey!--You are forbidden to invent, to create. No more +legends, no more new saints: we have had enough of them. You are +forbidden to introduce new chants in your worship: inspiration is not +allowed. The martyrs you would bring to light should stay modestly +within their tombs, waiting to be recognised by the Church. The +clergy, the monks are forbidden to grant the tonsure of civil freedom +to husbandmen and serfs. Such is the narrow fearful spirit that fills +the Church of the Carlovingian days.[11] She unsays her words, she +gives herself the lie, she says to the children, "Be old!" + + [11] See the Capitularies, _passim_. + + * * * * * + +A fall indeed! But is this earnest? They had bidden us all be +young.--Ah! but priest and people are no longer one. A divorce without +end begins, a gulf unpassable divides them for ever. The priest +himself, a lord and prince, will come out in his golden cope, and +chant in the royal speech of that great empire which is no more. For +ourselves, a mournful company, bereft of human speech, of the only +speech that God would care to hear, what else can we do but low and +bleat with the guileless friends who never scorn us, who, in +winter-time will keep us warm in their stable, or cover us with their +fleeces? We will live with dumb beasts, and be dumb ourselves. + +In sooth there is less need than before for our going to church. But +the church will not hold us free: she insists on our returning to hear +what we no longer understand. Thenceforth a mighty fog, a fog heavy +and dun as lead, enwraps the world. For how long? For a whole +millennium of horror. Throughout ten centuries, a languor unknown to +all former times seizes upon the Middle Ages, even in part on those +latter days that come midway betwixt sleep and waking, and holds them +under the sway of a visitation most irksome, most unbearable; that +convulsion, namely, of mental weariness, which men call a fit of +yawning. + +When the tireless bell rings at the wonted hours, they yawn; while the +nasal chant is singing in the old Latin words, they yawn. It is all +foreseen, there is nothing to hope for in the world, everything will +come round just the same as before. The certainty of being bored +to-morrow sets one yawning from to-day; and the long vista of +wearisome days, of wearisome years to come, weighs men down, sickens +them from the first with living. From brain to stomach, from stomach +to mouth, the fatal fit spreads of its own accord, and keeps on +distending the jaws without end or remedy. An actual disease the pious +Bretons call it, ascribing it, however, to the malice of the Devil. He +keeps crouching in the woods, the peasants say: if anyone passes by +tending his cattle, he sings to him vespers and other rites, until he +is dead with yawning.[12] + + [12] An illustrious Breton, the last man of the Middle Ages, + who had gone on a bootless errand to convert Rome, received + there some brilliant offers. "What do you want?" said the + Pope.--"Only one thing: to have done with the Breviary." + + * * * * * + +_To be old_ is to be weak. When the Saracens, when the Norsemen +threaten us, what will come to us if the people remain old? +Charlemagne weeps, and the Church weeps too. She owns that her relics +fail to guard her altars from these Barbarian devils.[13] Had she not +better call upon the arm of that wayward child whom she was going to +bind fast, the arm of that young giant whom she wanted to paralyse? +This movement in two opposite ways fills the whole ninth century. The +people are held back, anon they are hurled forward: we fear them and +we call on them for aid. With them and by means of them we throw up +hasty barriers, defences that may check the Barbarians, while +sheltering the priests and their saints escaped thither from their +churches. + + [13] The famous avowal made by Hincmar. + +In spite of the Bald Emperor's[14] command not to build, there grows +up a tower on the mountain. Thither comes the fugitive, crying, "In +God's name, take me in, at least my wife and children! Myself with my +cattle will encamp in your outer enclosure." The tower emboldens him +and he feels himself a man. It gives him shade, and he in his turn +defends, protects his protector. + + [14] Charles the Bald.--TRANS. + +Formerly in their hunger the small folk yielded themselves to the +great as serfs; but here how great the difference! He offers himself +as a _vassal_, one who would be called brave and valiant.[15] He gives +himself up, and keeps himself, and reserves to himself the right of +going elsewhere. "I will go further: the earth is large: I, too, like +the rest, can rear my tower yonder. If I have defended the outworks, I +can surely look after myself within." + + [15] A difference too little felt by those who have spoken of + the _personal recommendation_, &c. + +Thus nobly, thus grandly arose the feudal world. The master of the +tower received his vassals with some such words as these: "Thou shalt +go when thou willest, and if need be with my help; at least, if thou +shouldst sink in the mire, I myself will dismount to succour thee." +These are the very words of the old formula.[16] + + [16] Grimm, _Rechts Alterthuemer_, and my _Origines du Droit_. + + * * * * * + +But, one day, what do I see? Can my sight be grown dim? The lord of +the valley, as he rides about, sets up bounds that none may overleap; +ay, and limits that you cannot see. "What is that? I don't +understand." That means that the manor is shut in. "The lord keeps it +all fast under gate and hinge, between heaven and earth." + +Most horrible! By virtue of what law is this _vassus_ (or _valiant_ +one) held to his power? People will thereon have it, that _vassus_ may +also mean _slave_. In like manner the word _servus_, meaning a +_servant_, often indeed a proud one, even a Count or Prince of the +Empire, comes in the case of the weak to signify a _serf_, a wretch +whose life is hardly worth a halfpenny. + +In this damnable net are they caught. But down yonder, on his ground, +is a man who avers that his land is free, a _freehold_, a _fief of the +sun_. Seated on his boundary-stone, with hat pressed firmly down, he +looks at Count or Emperor passing near. "Pass on, Emperor; go thy +ways! If thou art firm on thy horse, yet more am I on my pillar. Thou +mayest pass, but so will not I: for I am Freedom." + +But I lack courage to say what becomes of this man. The air grows +thick around him: he breathes less and less freely. He seems to be +_under a spell_: he cannot move: he is as one paralysed. His very +beasts grow thin, as if a charm had been thrown over them. His +servants die of hunger. His land bears nothing now; spirits sweep it +clean by night. + +Still he holds on: "The poor man is a king in his own house." But he +is not to be let alone. He gets summoned, must answer for himself in +the Imperial Court. So he goes, like an old-world spectre, whom no one +knows any more. "What is he?" ask the young. "Ah, he is neither a +lord, nor a serf! Yet even then is he nothing?" + +"Who am I? I am he who built the first tower, he who succoured you, he +who, leaving the tower, went boldly forth to meet the Norse heathens +at the bridge. Yet more, I dammed the river, I tilled the meadow, +creating the land itself by drawing it God-like out of the waters. +From this land who shall drive me?" + +"No, my friend," says a neighbour--"you shall not be driven away. You +shall till this land, but in a way you little think for. Remember, my +good fellow, how in your youth, some fifty years ago, you were rash +enough to wed my father's little serf, Jacqueline. Remember the +proverb, 'He who courts my hen is my cock.' You belong to my +fowl-yard. Ungird yourself; throw away your sword! From this day forth +you are my serf." + +There is no invention here. The dreadful tale recurs incessantly +during the Middle Ages. Ah, it was a sharp sword that stabbed him. I +have abridged and suppressed much, for as often as one returns to +these times, the same steel, the same sharp point, pierces right +through the heart. + +There was one among them who, under this gross insult, fell into so +deep a rage that he could not bring up a single word. It was like +Roland betrayed. His blood all rushed upwards into his throat. His +flaming eyes, his mouth so dumb, yet so fearfully eloquent, turned all +the assembly pale. They started back. He was dead: his veins had +burst. His arteries spurted the red blood over the faces of his +murderers.[17] + + [17] This befell the Count of Avesnes when his freehold was + declared a mere fief, himself a mere vassal, a serf of the + Earl of Hainault. Read, too, the dreadful story of the Great + Chancellor of Flanders, the first magistrate of Bruges, who + also was claimed as a serf.--Gualterius, _Scriptores Rerum + Francicarum_, viii. 334. + + * * * * * + +The doubtful state of men's affairs, the frightfully slippery descent +by which the freeman becomes a vassal, the vassal a servant, and the +servant a serf,--in these things lie the great terror of the Middle +Ages, and the depth of their despair. There is no way of escape +therefrom; for he who takes one step is lost. He is an _alien_, a +_stray_, a _wild beast of the chase_. The ground grows slimy to catch +his feet, roots him, as he passes, to the spot. The contagion in the +air kills him; he becomes a thing _in mortmain_, a dead creature, a +mere nothing, a beast, a soul worth twopence-halfpenny, whose murder +can be atoned for by twopence-halfpenny. + +These are outwardly the two great leading traits in the wretchedness +of the Middle Ages, through which they came to give themselves up to +the Devil. Meanwhile let us look within, and sound the innermost +depths of their moral life. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE LITTLE DEVIL OF THE FIRESIDE. + + +There is an air of dreaming about those earlier centuries of the +Middle Ages, in which the legends were self-conceived. Among +countryfolk so gently submissive, as these legends show them, to the +Church, you would readily suppose that very great innocence might be +found. This is surely the temple of God the Father. And yet the +_penitentiaries_, wherein reference is made to ordinary sins, speak of +strange defilements, of things afterwards rare enough under the rule +of Satan. + +These sprang from two causes, from the utter ignorance of the times, +and from the close intermingling of near kindred under one roof. They +seem to have had but a slight acquaintance with our modern ethics. +Those of their day, all counterpleas notwithstanding, resemble the +ethics of the patriarchs, of that far antiquity which regarded +marriage with a stranger as immoral, and allowed only of marriage +amongst kinsfolk. The families thus joined together became as one. Not +daring to scatter over the surrounding deserts, tilling only the +outskirts of a Merovingian palace or a monastery, they took shelter +every evening under the roof of a large homestead (_villa_). Thence +arose unpleasant points of analogy with the ancient _ergastulum_, +where the slaves of an estate were all crammed together. Many of these +communities lasted through and even beyond the Middle Ages. About the +results of such a system the lord would feel very little concern. To +his eyes but one family was visible in all this tribe, this multitude +of people "who rose and lay down together, ... who ate together of the +same bread, and drank out of the same mug." + +Amidst such confusion the woman was not much regarded. Her place was +by no means lofty. If the virgin, the ideal woman, rose higher from +age to age, the real woman was held of little worth among these +boorish masses, in this medley of men and herds. Wretched was the doom +of a condition which could only change with the growth of separate +dwellings, when men at length took courage to live apart in hamlets, +or to build them huts in far-off forest-clearings, amidst the fruitful +fields they had gone out to cultivate. From the lonely hearth comes +the true family. It is the nest that forms the bird. Thenceforth they +were no more things, but men; for then also was the woman born. + + * * * * * + +It was a very touching moment, the day she entered _her own home_. +Then at last the poor wretch might become pure and holy. There, as she +sits spinning alone, while her goodman is in the forest, she may brood +on some thought and dream away. Her damp, ill-fastened cabin, through +which keeps whistling the winter wind, is still, by way of a +recompense, calm and silent. In it are sundry dim corners where the +housewife lodges her dreams. + +And by this time she has some property, something of her own. The +_distaff_, the _bed_, and the _trunk_, are all she has, according to +the old song.[18] We may add a table, a seat, perhaps two stools. A +poor dwelling and very bare; but then it is furnished with a living +soul! The fire cheers her, the blessed box-twigs guard her bed, +accompanied now and again by a pretty bunch of vervein. Seated by her +door, the lady of this palace spins and watches some sheep. We are not +yet rich enough to keep a cow; but to that we may come in time, if +Heaven will bless our house. The wood, a bit of pasture, and some bees +about our ground--such is our way of life! But little corn is +cultivated as yet, there being no assurance of a harvest so long of +coming. Such a life, however needy, is anyhow less hard for the woman: +she is not broken down and withered, as she will be in the days of +large farming. And she has more leisure withal. You must never judge +of her by the coarse literature of the Fabliaux and the Christmas +Carols, by the foolish laughter and license of the filthy tales we +have to put up with by and by. She is alone; without a neighbour. The +bad, unwholesome life of the dark, little, walled towns, the mutual +spyings, the wretched dangerous gossipings, have not yet begun. No old +woman comes of an evening, when the narrow street is growing dark, to +tempt the young maiden by saying how for the love of her somebody is +dying. She has no friend but her own reflections; she converses only +with her beasts or the tree in the forest. + + [18] + + "Trois pas du cote du banc, + Et trois pas du cote du lit; + Trois pas du cote du coffre, + Et trois pas---- Revenez ici." + + (_Old Song of the Dancing Master._) + +Such things speak to her, we know of what. They recall to her mind the +saws once uttered by her mother and grandmother; ancient saws handed +down for ages from woman to woman. They form a harmless reminder of +the old country spirits, a touching family religion which doubtless +had little power in the blustering hurly-burly of a great common +dwellinghouse, but now comes back again to haunt the lonely cabin. + +It is a singular, a delicate world of fays and hobgoblins, made for a +woman's soul. When the great creation of the saintly Legend gets +stopped and dried up, that other older, more poetic legend comes in +for its share of welcome; reigns privily with gentle sway. It is the +woman's treasure; she worships and caresses it. The fay, too, is a +woman, a fantastic mirror wherein she sees herself in a fairer guise. + +Who were these fays? Tradition says, that of yore some Gaulish queens, +being proud and fanciful, did on the coming of Christ and His Apostles +behave so insolently as to turn their backs upon them. In Brittany +they were dancing at the moment, and never stopped dancing. Hence +their hard doom; they are condemned to live until the Day of +Judgment.[19] Many of them were turned into mice or rabbits; as the +Kow-riggwans for instance, or Elves, who meeting at night round the +old Druidic stones entangle you in their dances. The same fate befell +the pretty Queen Mab, who made herself a royal chariot out of a +walnut-shell. They are all rather whimsical, and sometimes +ill-humoured. But can we be surprised at them, remembering their +woeful lot? Tiny and odd as they are, they have a heart, a longing to +be loved. They are good and they are bad and full of fancies. On the +birth of a baby they come down the chimney, to endow it and order its +future. They are fond of good spinning-women--they even spin divinely +themselves. Do we not talk of _spinning like a fairy_? + + [19] All passages bearing on this point have been gathered + together in two learned works by M. Maury (_Les Fees_, 1843; + and _La Magie_, 1860). See also Grimm. + +The fairy-tales, stripped of the absurd embellishments in which the +latest compilers muffled them up, express the heart of the people +itself. They mark a poetic interval between the gross communism of the +primitive _villa_, and the looseness of the time when a growing +burgess-class made our cynical Fabliaux.[20] + + [20] A body of tales by the Trouveres of the twelfth and + thirteenth centuries.--TRANS. + +These tales have an historical side, reminding us, in the ogres, &c., +of the great famines. But commonly they soar higher than any history, +on the _Blue Bird's_ wing, in a realm of eternal poesy; telling us our +wishes which never vary, the unchangeable history of the heart. + +The poor serf's longing to breathe, to rest, to find a treasure that +may end his sufferings, continually returns. More often, through a +lofty aspiration, this treasure becomes a soul as well, a treasure of +love asleep, as in _The Sleeping Beauty_: but not seldom the charming +person finds herself by some fatal enchantment hidden under a mask. +Hence that touching trilogy, that admirable _crescendo_ of _Riquet +with the Tuft_, _Ass's Skin_, and _Beauty and the Beast_. Love will +not be discouraged. Through all that ugliness it follows after and +gains the hidden beauty. In the last of these tales that feeling +touches the sublime, and I think that no one has ever read it without +weeping. + +A passion most real, most sincere, lurks beneath it--that unhappy, +hopeless love, which unkind nature often sets between poor souls of +very different ranks in life. On the one hand is the grief of the +peasant maid at not being able to make herself fair enough to win the +cavalier's fancy; on the other the smothered sighs of the serf, when +along his furrow he sees passing, on a white horse, too exquisite a +glory, the beautiful, the majestic Lady of the Castle. So in the East +arises the mournful idyll of the impossible loves of the Rose and the +Nightingale. Nevertheless, there is one great difference: the bird and +the flower are both beautiful; nay, are alike in their beauty. But +here the humbler being, doomed to a place so far below, avows to +himself that he is ugly and monstrous. But amidst his wailing he feels +in himself a power greater than the East can know. With the will of a +hero, through the very greatness of his desire, he breaks out of his +idle coverings. He loves so much, this monster, that he is loved, and, +in return, through that love grows beautiful. + +An infinite tenderness pervades it all. This soul enchanted thinks not +of itself alone. It busies itself in saving all nature and all society +as well. Victims of every kind, the child beaten by its step-mother, +the youngest sister slighted, ill-used by her elders, are the surest +objects of its liking. Even to the Lady of the Castle does its +compassion extend; it mourns her fallen into the hands of so fierce a +lord as Blue-Beard. It yearns with pity towards the beasts; it seeks +to console them for being still in the shape of animals. Let them be +patient, and their day will come. Some day their prisoned souls shall +put on wings, shall be free, lovely, and beloved. This is the other +side of _Ass's Skin_ and such like stories. There especially we are +sure of finding a woman's heart. The rude labourer in the fields may +be hard enough to his beasts, but to the woman they are no beasts. She +regards them with the feeling of a child. To her fancy all is human, +all is soul: the whole world becomes ennobled. It is a beautiful +enchantment. Humble as she is, and ugly as she thinks herself, she +has given all her beauty, all her grace to the surrounding universe. + + * * * * * + +Is she, then, so ugly, this little peasant-wife, whose dreaming fancy +feeds on things like these? I tell you she keeps house, she spins and +minds the flock, she visits the forest to gather a little wood. As yet +she has neither the hard work nor the ugly looks of the countrywoman +as afterwards fashioned by the prevalent culture of grain crops. Nor +is she like the fat townswife, heavy and slothful, about whom our +fathers made such a number of fat stories. She has no sense of safety; +she is meek and timid, and feels herself, as it were, in God's hand. +On yonder hill she can see the dark frowning castle, whence a thousand +harms may come upon her. Her husband she holds in equal fear and +honour. A serf elsewhere, by her side he is a king. For him she saves +of her best, living herself on nothing. She is small and slender like +the women-saints of the Church. The poor feeding of those days must +needs make women fine-bred, but lacking also in vital strength. The +children die off in vast numbers: those pale roses are all nerves. +Hence, will presently burst forth the epileptic dances of the +fourteenth century. Meanwhile, towards the twelfth century, there come +to be two weaknesses attached to this state of half-grown youth: by +night somnambulism; in the daytime seeing of visions, trance, and the +gift of tears. + + * * * * * + +This woman, for all her innocence, still has a secret which the Church +may never be told. Locked up in her heart she bears the pitying +remembrance of those poor old gods who have fallen into the state of +spirits;[21] and spirits, you must know, are not exempt from +suffering. Dwelling in rocks, and in hearts of oak, they are very +unhappy in winter; being particularly fond of warmth. They ramble +about houses; they are sometimes seen in stables warming themselves +beside the beasts. Bereft of incense and burnt-offerings, they +sometimes take of the milk. The housewife being thrifty, will not +stint her husband, but lessens her own share, and in the evening +leaves a little cream. + + [21] This loyalty of hers is very touching indeed. In the + fifth century the peasants braved persecution by parading the + gods of the old religion in the shape of small dolls made of + linen or flour. Still the same in the eighth century. The + _Capitularies_ threaten death in vain. In the twelfth + century, Burchard, of Worms, attests their inutility. In + 1389, the Sorbonne inveighs against certain traces of + heathenism, while in 1400, Gerson talks of it as still a + lively superstition. + +Those spirits who only appear at night, regret their banishment from +the day and are greedy of lamplight. By night the housewife starts on +her perilous trip, bearing a small lantern, to the great oak where +they dwell, or to the secret fountain whose mirror, as it multiplies +the flame, may cheer up those sorrowful outlaws. + +But if anyone should know of it, good heavens! Her husband is canny +and fears the Church: he would certainly give her a beating. The +priest wages fierce war with the sprites, and hunts them out of every +place. Yet he might leave them their dwelling in the oaks! What harm +can they do in the forest? Alas! no: from council to council they are +hunted down. On set days the priest will go even to the oak, and with +prayers and holy water drive away the spirits. + +How would it be if no kind soul took pity on them? This woman, +however, will take them under her care. She is an excellent Christian, +but will keep for them one corner of her heart. To them alone can she +entrust those little natural affairs, which, harmless as they are in a +chaste wife's dwelling, the Church at any rate would count as +blameworthy. They are the confidants, the confessors of these touching +womanly secrets. Of them she thinks, when she puts the holy log on the +fire. It is Christmastide; but also is it the ancient festival of the +Northern spirits, the _Feast of the Longest Night_. So, too, the Eve +of May-day is the _Pervigilium of Maia_, when the tree is planted. So, +too, with the Eve of St. John, the true feast-day of life, of flowers, +and newly-awakened love. She who has no children makes it her especial +duty to cherish these festivals, and to offer them a deep devotion. A +vow to the Virgin would perhaps be of little avail, it being no +concern of Mary's. In a low whisper, she prefers addressing some +ancient _genius_, worshipped in other days as a rustic deity, and +afterwards by the kindness of some local church transformed into a +saint.[22] And thus it happens that the bed, the cradle, all the +sweetest mysteries on which the chaste and loving soul can brood, +belong to the olden gods. + + [22] A. Maury, _Magie_, 159. + + * * * * * + +Nor are the sprites ungrateful. One day she awakes, and without having +stirred a finger, finds all her housekeeping done. In her amazement +she makes the sign of the cross and says nothing. When the good man +goes she questions herself, but in vain. It must have been a spirit. +"What can it be? How came it here? How I should like to see it! But I +am afraid: they say it is death to see a spirit."--Yet the cradle +moves and swings of itself. She is clasped by some one, and a voice so +soft, so low that she took it for her own, is heard saying, "Dearest +mistress, I love to rock your babe, because I am myself a babe." Her +heart beats, and yet she takes courage a little. The innocence of the +cradle gives this spirit also an innocent air, causing her to believe +it good, gentle, suffered at least by God. + +From that day forth she is no longer alone. She readily feels its +presence, and it is never far from her. It rubs her gown, and she +hears the grazing. It rambles momently about her, and plainly cannot +leave her side. If she goes to the stable, it is there; and she +believes that the other day it was in the churn.[23] + + [23] This is a favourite haunt of the little rogue's. To this + day the Swiss, knowing his tastes, make him a present of some + milk. His name among them is _troll_ (_drole_); among the + Germans _kobold_, _nix_. In France he is called _follet_, + _goblin_, _lutin_; in England, _Puck_, _Robin Goodfellow_. + Shakespeare says, he does sleepy servants the kindness to + pinch them black and blue, in order to rouse them. + +Pity she cannot take it up and look at it! Once, when she suddenly +touched the brands, she fancied she saw the tricksy little thing +tumbling about in the sparks; another time she missed catching it in a +rose. Small as it is, it works, sweeps, arranges, saves her a thousand +cares. + +It has its faults, however; is giddy, bold, and if she did not hold it +fast, might perhaps shake itself free. It observes and listens too +much. It repeats sometimes of a morning some little word she had +whispered very, very softly on going to bed, when the light was put +out. She knows it to be very indiscreet, exceedingly curious. She is +irked with feeling herself always followed about, complains of it, and +likes complaining. Sometimes, having threatened him and turned him +off, she feels herself quite at ease. But just then she finds herself +caressed by a light breathing, as it were a bird's wing. He was under +a leaf. He laughs: his gentle voice, free from mocking, declares the +joy he felt in taking his chaste young mistress by surprise. On her +making a show of great wrath, "No, my darling, my little pet," says +the monkey, "you are not a bit sorry to have me here." + +She feels ashamed and dares say nothing more. But she guesses now that +she loves him overmuch. She has scruples about it, and loves him yet +more. All night she seems to feel him creeping up to her bed. In her +fear she prays to God, and keeps close to her husband. What shall she +do? She has not the strength to tell the Church. She tells her +husband, who laughs at first incredulously. Then she owns to a little +more,--what a madcap the goblin is, sometimes even overbold. "What +matters? He is so small." Thus he himself sets her mind at ease. + +Should we too feel reassured, we who can see more clearly? She is +quite innocent still. She would shrink from copying the great lady up +there who, in the face of her husband, has her court of lovers and her +page. Let us own, however, that to that point the goblin has already +smoothed the way. One could not have a more perilous page than he who +hides himself under a rose; and, moreover, he smacks of the lover. +More intrusive than anyone else, he is so tiny that he can creep +anywhere. + +He glides even into the husband's heart, paying him court and winning +his good graces. He looks after his tools, works in his garden, and of +an evening, by way of reward, curls himself up in the chimney, behind +the babe and the cat. They hear his small voice, just like a +cricket's; but they never see much of him, save when a faint glimmer +lights a certain cranny in which he loves to stay. Then they see, or +think they see, a thin little face; and cry out, "Ah! little one, we +have seen you at last!" + +In church they are told to mistrust the spirits, for even one that +seems innocent, and glides about like a light breeze, may after all be +a devil. They take good care not to believe it. His size begets a +belief in his innocence. Whilst he is there, they thrive. The husband +holds to him as much as the wife, and perhaps more. He sees that the +tricksy little elf makes the fortune of the house. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +TEMPTATIONS. + + +I have kept this picture clear of those dreadful shadows of the hour +by which it would have been sadly overdarkened. I refer especially to +the uncertainty attending the lot of these rural households, to their +constant fear and foreboding of some casual outrage which might at any +moment descend on them from the castle. + +There were just two things which made the feudal rule a hell: on one +hand, its _exceeding steadfastness_, man being nailed, as it were, to +the ground, and emigration made impossible; on the other, a very great +degree of _uncertainty_ about his lot. + +The optimist historians who say so much about fixed rents, charters, +buying of immunities, forget how slightly all this was guaranteed. So +much you were bound to pay the lord, but all the rest he could take if +he chose; and this was very fitly called the _right of seizure_. You +may work and work away, my good fellow! But while you are in the +fields, yon dreaded band from the castle will fall upon your house and +carry off whatever they please "for their lord's service." + +Look again at that man standing with his head bowed gloomily over the +furrow! And thus he is always found, his face clouded, his heart +oppressed, as if he were expecting some evil news. Is he meditating +some wrongful deed? No; but there are two ideas haunting him, two +daggers piercing him in turn. The one is, "In what state shall I find +my house this evening?" The other, "Would that the turning up of this +sod might bring some treasure to light! O that the good spirit would +help to buy us free!" + +We are assured that, after the fashion of the Etruscan spirit which +one day started up from under the ploughshare in the form of a child, +a dwarf or gnome of the tiniest stature would sometimes on such an +appeal come forth from the ground, and, setting itself on the furrow, +would say, "What wantest thou?" But in his amazement the poor man +would ask for nothing; he would turn pale, cross himself, and +presently go quite away. + +Did he never feel sorry afterwards? Said he never to himself, "Fool +that you are, you will always be unlucky?" I readily believe he did; +but I also think that a barrier of dread invincible stopped him short. +I cannot believe with the monks who have told us all things concerning +witchcraft, that the treaty with Satan was the light invention of a +miser or a man in love. On the contrary, nature and good sense alike +inform us that it was only the last resource of an overwhelming +despair, under the weight of dreadful outrages and dreadful +sufferings. + + * * * * * + +But those great sufferings, we are told, must have been greatly +lightened about the time of St. Louis, who forbade private wars among +the nobles. My own opinion is quite the reverse. During the fourscore +or hundred years that elapsed between his prohibition and the wars +with England (1240-1340), the great lords being debarred from the +accustomed sport of burning and plundering their neighbours' lands, +became a terror to their own vassals. For the latter such a peace was +simply war. + +The spiritual, the monkish lords, and others, as shown in the _Journal +of Eudes Rigault_, lately published, make one shudder. It is a +repulsive picture of profligacy at once savage and uncontrolled. The +monkish lords especially assail the nunneries. The austere Rigault, +Archbishop of Rouen, confessor of the holy king, conducts a personal +inquiry into the state of Normandy. Every evening he comes to a +monastery. In all of them he finds the monks leading the life of great +feudal lords, wearing arms, getting drunk, fighting duels, keen +huntsmen over all the cultivated land; the nuns living among them in +wild confusion, and betraying everywhere the fruits of their shameless +deeds. + +If things are so in the Church, what must the lay lords have been? +What like was the inside of those dark towers which the folk below +regarded with so much horror? Two tales, undoubtedly historical, +namely, _Blue-Beard_ and _Griselda_, tell us something thereanent. To +his vassals, his serfs, what indeed must have been this devotee of +torture who treated his own family in such a way? He is known to us +through the only man who was brought to trial for such deeds; and that +not earlier than the fifteenth century,--Gilles de Retz, who kidnapped +children. + +Sir Walter Scott's Front de Boeuf, and the other lords of melodramas +and romances, are but poor creatures in the face of these dreadful +realities. The Templar also in _Ivanhoe_, is a weak artificial +conception. The author durst not assay the foul reality of celibate +life in the Temple, or within the castle walls. Few women were taken +in there, being accounted not worth their keep. The romances of +chivalry altogether belie the truth. It is remarkable, indeed, how +often the literature of an age expresses the very opposite of its +manners, as, for instance, the washy theatre of eclogues after +Florian,[24] during the years of the Great Terror. + + [24] A writer of eclogues, fables and dramas; in youth a + friend of Voltaire, afterwards imprisoned during the + Terror.--TRANS. + +The rooms in these castles, in such at least as may be seen to-day, +speak more plainly than any books. Men-at-arms, pages, footmen, +crammed together of nights under low-vaulted roofs, in the daytime +kept on the battlements, on narrow terraces, in a state of most +sickening weariness, lived only in their pranks down below; in feats +no longer of arms on the neighbouring domains, but of hunting, ay, and +hunting of men; insults, I may say, without number, outrages untold on +families of serfs. The lord himself well knew that such an army of +men, without women, could only be kept in order by letting them loose +from time to time. + +The awful idea of a hell wherein God employs the very guiltiest of the +wicked spirits to torture the less guilty delivered over to them for +their sport,--this lovely dogma of the Middle Ages was exemplified to +the last letter. Men felt that God was not among them. Each new raid +betokened more and more clearly the kingdom of Satan, until men came +to believe that thenceforth their prayers should be offered to him +alone. + +Up in the castle there was laughing and joking. "The women-serfs were +too ugly." There is no question raised as to their beauty. The great +pleasure lay in deeds of outrage, in striking and making them weep. +Even in the seventeenth century the great ladies died with laughing, +when the Duke of Lorraine told them how, in peaceful villages, his +people went about harrying and torturing all the women, even to the +old. + +These outrages fell most frequently, as we might suppose, on families +well to do and comparatively distinguished among the serfs; the +families, namely, of those serf-born mayors, who already in the +twelfth century appear at the head of the village. By the nobles they +were hated, jeered, cruelly plagued. Their newborn moral dignity was +not to be forgiven. Their wives and daughters were not allowed to be +good and wise: they had no right to be held in any respect. Their +honour was not their own. _Serfs of the body_, such was the cruel +phrase cast for ever in their teeth. + + * * * * * + +In days to come people will be slow to believe, that the law among +Christian nations went beyond anything decreed concerning the olden +slavery; that it wrote down as an actual right the most grievous +outrage that could ever wound man's heart. The lord spiritual had this +foul privilege no less than the lord temporal. In a parish outside +Bourges, the parson, as being a lord, expressly claimed the +firstfruits of the bride, but was willing to sell his rights to the +husband.[25] + + [25] Lauriere, ii. 100 (on the word _Marquette_). Michelet, + _Origines du Droit_, 264. + +It has been too readily believed that this wrong was formal, not real. +But the price laid down in certain countries for getting a +dispensation, exceeded the means of almost every peasant. In Scotland, +for instance, the demand was for "several cows:" a price immense, +impossible. So the poor young wife was at their mercy. Besides, the +Courts of Bearn openly maintain that this right grew up naturally: +"The eldest-born of the peasant is accounted the son of his lord, for +he perchance it was who begat him."[26] + + [26] When I published my _Origines_ in 1837, I could not have + known this work, published in 1842. + +All feudal customs, even if we pass over this, compel the bride to go +up to the castle, bearing thither the "wedding-dish." Surely it was a +cruel thing to make her trust herself amongst such a pack of celibate +dogs, so shameless and so ungovernable. + +A shameful scene we may well imagine it to have been. As the young +husband is leading his bride to the castle, fancy the laughter of +cavaliers and footmen, the frolics of the pages around the wretched +poor! But the presence of the great lady herself will check them? Not +at all. The lady in whose delicate breeding the romances tell us to +believe,[27] but who, in her husband's absence, ruled his men, +judging, chastising, ordaining penalties, to whom her husband himself +was bound by the fiefs she brought him,--such a lady would be in no +wise merciful, especially towards a girl-serf who happened also to be +good-looking. Since, according to the custom of those days, she openly +kept her gentleman and her page, she would not be sorry to sanction +her own libertinism by that of her husband. + + [27] This delicacy appears in the treatment these ladies + inflicted on their poet Jean de Meung, author of the _Roman + de la Rose_. + +Nothing will she do to hinder the fun, the sport they are making out +of yon poor trembler who has come to redeem his bride. They begin by +bargaining with him; they laugh at the pangs endured by "the miserly +peasant;" they suck the very blood and marrow of him. Why all this +fury? Because he is neatly clad; is honest, settled; is a man of mark +in the village. Why, indeed? Because she is pious, chaste, and pure; +because she loves him; because she is frightened and falls a-weeping. +Her sweet eyes plead for pity. + +In vain does the poor wretch offer all he has, even to her dowry: it +is all too little. Angered at such cruel injustice, he will say +perhaps that "his neighbour paid nothing." The insolent fellow! he +would argue with us! Thereon they gather round him, a yelling mob: +sticks and brooms pelt upon him like hail. They jostle him, they throw +him down. "You jealous villain, you Lent-faced villain!" they cry; "no +one takes your wife from you; you shall have her back to-night, and to +enhance the honour done you ... your eldest child will be a baron!" +Everyone looks out of window at the absurd figure of this dead man in +wedding garments. He is followed by bursts of laughter, and the noisy +rabble, down to the lowest scullion, give chase to the "cuckold."[28] + + [28] The old tales are very sportive, but rather monotonous. + They turn on three jokes only: the despair of the _cuckold_, + the cries of the _beaten_, the wry faces of the _hanged_. The + first is amusing, the second laughable, the third, as crown + of all, makes people split their sides. And the three have + one point in common: it is the weak and helpless who is + ill-used. + + * * * * * + +The poor fellow would have burst, had he nothing to hope for from the +Devil. By himself he returns: is the house empty as well as desolate? +No, there is company waiting for him there: by the fireside sits +Satan. + +But soon his bride comes back, poor wretch, all pale and undone. Alas! +alas! for her condition. At his feet she throws herself and craves +forgiveness. Then, with a bursting heart, he flings his arms round her +neck. He weeps, he sobs, he roars, till the house shakes again. + +But with her comes back God. For all her suffering, she is pure, +innocent, holy still. Satan for that nonce will get no profit: the +treaty is not yet ripe. + +Our silly Fabliaux, our absurd tales, assume with regard to this +deadly outrage and all its further issues, that the woman sides with +her oppressors against her husband; they would have us believe that +her brutal treatment by the former makes her happy and transports her +with delight. A likely thing indeed! Doubtless she might be seduced by +rank, politeness, elegant manners. But no pains are ever taken to that +end. Great would be the scoffing at anyone who made true-love's wooing +towards a serf. The whole gang of men, to the chaplain, the butler, +even the footmen, would think they honoured her by deeds of outrage. +The smallest page thought himself a great lord, if he only seasoned +his love with insolence and blows. + + * * * * * + +One day, the poor woman, having just been ill-treated during her +husband's absence, begins weeping, and saying quite aloud, the while +she is tying up her long hair, "Ah, those unhappy saints of the woods, +what boots it to offer them my vows? Are they deaf, or have they grown +too old? Why have I not some protecting spirit, strong and +mighty--wicked even, if it need be? Some such I see in stone at the +church-door; but what do they there? Why do they not go to their +proper dwelling, the castle, to carry off and roast those sinners? Oh, +who is there will give me power and might? I would gladly give myself +in exchange. Ah, me, what is it I would give? What have I to give on +my side? Nothing is left me. Out on this body, out on this soul, a +mere cinder now! Why, instead of this useless goblin, have I not some +spirit, great, strong, and mighty, to help me?" + +"My darling mistress! If I am small, it is your fault; and bigger I +cannot grow. And besides, if I were very big, neither you nor your +husband would have borne with me. You would have driven me away with +your priests and your holy water. I can be strong, however, if you +please. For, mistress mine, the spirits in themselves are neither +great nor small, neither weak nor strong. For him who wishes it, the +smallest can become a giant." + +"In what way?" + +"Why, nothing can be simpler. To make him a giant, you must grant him +only one gift." + +"What is that?" + +"A lovely woman-soul." + +"Ah, wicked one! What then art thou, and what wouldst thou have?" + +"Only what you give me every day.... Would you be better than the lady +up yonder? She has pledged her soul to her husband and to her lover, +and yet she yields it whole to her page. I am more than a page to you, +more than a servant. In how many matters have I not been your little +handmaid! Do not blush, nor be angry. Let me only say, that I am all +about you, and already perhaps in you. Else, how could I know your +thoughts, even those which you hide from yourself? Who am I, then? +Your little soul, which speaks thus openly to the great one. We are +inseparable. Do you know how long I have been with you? Some thousand +years, for I belonged to your mother, to hers, to your ancestors. I am +the Spirit of the Fireside." + +"Tempter! What wilt thou do?" + +"Why, thy husband shall be rich, thyself mighty, and men shall fear +thee." + +"Where am I? Surely thou art the demon of hidden treasures!" + +"Why call me demon, if I do deeds of justice, of goodness, of piety? +God cannot be everywhere--He cannot be always working. Sometimes He +likes to rest, leaving us other spirits here to carry on the smaller +husbandry, to remedy the ills which his providence passed over, which +his justice forgot to handle. + +"Of this your husband is an example. Poor, deserving workman, he is +killing himself and gaining nought in return. Heaven has had no time +to look after him. But I, though rather jealous of him, still love my +kind host. I pity him: his strength is going, he can bear up no +longer. He will die, like your children, already dead of misery. This +winter he was ill; what will become of him the next?" + +Thereon, her face in her hands, she wept two, three hours, and even +more. And when she had poured out all her tears--her bosom still +throbbing hard--the other said, "I ask nothing: only, I pray, save +him." + +She had promised nothing, but from that hour she became his. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +POSSESSION. + + +A dreadful age was the age of gold; for thus do I call that hard time +when gold first came into use. This was in the year 1300, during the +reign of that Fair King[29] who never spake a word; the great king who +seemed to have a dumb devil, but a devil with mighty arm, strong +enough to burn the Temple, long enough to reach Rome, and with glove +of iron to deal the first good blow at the Pope. + + [29] Philip the Fair of France, who put down the Templar in + Paris, and first secured the liberties of the Gallican + Church.--TRANS. + +Gold thereupon becomes a great pope, a mighty god, and not without +cause. The movement began in Europe with the Crusades: the only wealth +men cared for was that which having wings could lend itself to their +enterprise; the wealth, namely, of swift exchanges. To strike blows +afar off the king wants nothing but gold. An army of gold, a fiscal +army, spreads over all the land. The lord, who has brought back with +him his dreams of the East, is always longing for its wonders, for +damascened armour, carpets, spices, valuable steeds. For all such +things he needs gold. He pushes away with his foot the serf who +brings him corn. "That is not all; I want gold!" + +On that day the world was changed. Theretofore in the midst of much +evil there had always been a harmless certainty about the tax. +According as the year was good or bad, the rent followed the course of +nature and the measure of the harvest. If the lord said, "This is +little," he was answered, "My lord, Heaven has granted us no more." + +But the gold, alas! where shall we find it? We have no army to seize +it in the towns of Flanders. Where shall we dig the ground to win him +his treasure? Oh, that the spirit of hidden treasures would be our +guide![30] + + [30] The devils trouble the world all through the Middle + Ages; but not before the thirteenth century does Satan put on + a settled shape. "_Compacts_," says M. Maury, "are very rare + before that epoch;" and I believe him. How could they treat + with one who as yet had no real existence? Neither of the + treating parties was yet ripe for the contract. Before the + will could be reduced to the dreadful pass of selling itself + for ever, it must be made thoroughly desperate. It is not the + unhappy who falls into despair, but the truly wretched, who + being quite conscious of his misery, and having yet more to + suffer, can find no escape therefrom. The wretched in this + way are the men of the fourteenth century, from whom they ask + a thing so impossible as payments in gold. In this and the + following chapter I have touched on the circumstances, the + feelings, the growing despair, which brought about the + enormity of _compacts_, and, worse still than these, the + dreadful character of the _Witch_. If the name was freely + used, the thing itself was then rare, being no less than a + marriage and a kind of priesthood. For ease of illustration, + I have joined together the details of so delicate a scrutiny + by a thread of fiction. The outward body of it matters + little. The essential point is to remember that such things + were not caused, as they try to persuade us, by _human + fickleness, by the inconstancy of our fallen nature, by the + chance persuasions of desire_. There was needed the deadly + pressure of an age of iron, of cruel needs: it was needful + that Hell itself should seem a shelter, an asylum, by + contrast with the hell below. + +While all are desperate, the woman with the goblin is already seated +on her sacks of corn in the little neighbouring village. She is alone, +the rest being still at their debate in the village. + +She sells at her own price. But even when the rest come up, everything +favours her, some strange magical allurement working on her side. No +one bargains with her. Her husband, before his time, brings his rent +in good sounding coin to the feudal elm. "Amazing!" they all say, "but +the Devil is in her!" + +They laugh, but she does not. She is sorrowful and afraid. In vain she +tries to pray that night. Strange prickings disturb her slumber. +Fantastic forms appear before her. The small gentle sprite seems to +have grown imperious. He waxes bold. She is uneasy, indignant, eager +to rise. In her sleep she groans, and feels herself dependent, saying, +"No more do I belong to myself!" + + * * * * * + +"Here is a sensible countryman," says the lord; "he pays beforehand! +You charm me: do you know accounts?"--"A little."--"Well then, you +shall reckon with these folk. Every Saturday you shall sit under the +elm and receive their money. On Sunday, before mass, you shall bring +it up to the castle." + +What a change in their condition! How the wife's heart beats when of a +Saturday she sees her poor workman, serf though he be, seated like a +lordling under the baronial shades. At first he feels giddy, but in +time accustoms himself to put on a grave air. It is no joking matter, +indeed; for the lord commands them to show him due respect. When he +has gone up to the castle, and the jealous ones look like laughing and +designing to pay him off, "You see that battlement," says the lord, +"the rope you don't see, but it is also ready. The first man who +touches him shall be set up there high and quick." + + * * * * * + +This speech is repeated from one to another; until it has spread +around these two as it were an atmosphere of terror. Everybody doffs +his hat to them, bowing very low indeed. But when they pass by, folk +stand aloof, and get out of the way. In order to shirk them they turn +up cross roads, with backs bended, with eyes turned carefully down. +Such a change makes them first savage, but afterwards sorrowful. They +walk alone through all the district. The wife's shrewdness marks the +hostile scorn of the castle, the trembling hate of those below. She +feels herself fearfully isolated between two perils. No one to defend +her but her lord, or rather the money they pay him: but then to find +that money, to spur on the peasant's slowness, and overcome his +sluggish antagonism, to snatch somewhat even from him who has nothing, +what hard pressure, what threats, what cruelty, must be employed! This +was never in the goodman's line of business. The wife brings him to +the mark by dint of much pushing: she says to him, "Be rough; at need +be cruel. Strike hard. Otherwise you will fall short of your +engagements; and then we are undone." + +This suffering by day, however, is a trifle in comparison with the +tortures of the night. She seems to have lost the power of sleeping. +She gets up, walks to and fro, and roams about the house. All is +still; and yet how the house is altered; its old innocence, its sweet +security all for ever gone! "Of what is that cat by the hearth +a-thinking, as she pretends to sleep, and 'tweenwhiles opens her green +eyes upon me? The she-goat with her long beard, looking so discreet +and ominous, knows more about it than she can tell. And yon cow which +the moon reveals by glimpses in her stall, why does she give me such a +sidelong look? All this is surely unnatural!" + +Shivering, she returns to her husband's side. "Happy man, how deep his +slumber! Mine is over; I cannot sleep, I never shall sleep again." In +time, however, she falls off. But oh, what suffering visits her then! +The importunate guest is beside her, demanding and giving his orders. +If one while she gets rid of him by praying or making the sign of the +cross, anon he returns under another form. "Get back, devil! What +durst thou? I am a Christian soul. No, thou shalt not touch me!" + +In revenge he puts on a hundred hideous forms; twining as an adder +about her bosom, dancing as a frog upon her stomach, anon like a bat, +sharp-snouted, covering her scared mouth with dreadful kisses. What is +it he wants? To drive her into a corner, so that conquered and crushed +at last, she may yield and utter the word "Yes." Still she is resolute +to say "No." Still she is bent on braving the cruel struggles of every +night, the endless martyrdom of that wasting strife. + + * * * * * + +"How far can a spirit make himself withal a body? What reality can +there be in his efforts and approaches? Would she be sinning in the +flesh, if she allowed the intrusions of one who was always roaming +about her? Would that be sheer adultery?" Such was the sly roundabout +way in which sometimes he stayed and weakened her resistance. "If I am +only a breath, a smoke, a thin air, as so many doctors call me, why +are you afraid, poor fearful soul, and how does it concern your +husband?" + +It is the painful doom of the soul in these Middle Ages, that a number +of questions which to us would seem idle, questions of pure +scholastics, disturb, frighten, and torment it, taking the guise of +visions, sometimes of devilish debatings, of cruel dialogues carried +on within. The Devil, fierce as he shows himself in the demoniacs, +remains always a spirit throughout the days of the Roman Empire, even +in the time of St. Martin or the fifth century. With the Barbarian +inroads he waxes barbarous, and takes to himself a body. So great a +body does he become, that he amuses himself in breaking with stones +the bell of the convent of St. Benedict. More and more fleshly is he +made to appear, by way of frightening the plunderers of ecclesiastical +goods. People are taught to believe that sinners will be tormented not +in the spirit only, but even bodily in the flesh; that they will +suffer material tortures, not those of ideal flames, but in very deed +such exquisite pangs as burning coals, gridirons, and red-hot spits +can awaken. + +This conception of the torturing devils inflicting material agonies on +the souls of the dead, was a mine of gold to the Church. The living, +pierced with grief and pity, asked themselves "if it were possible to +redeem these poor souls from one world to another; if to these, too, +might be applied such forms of expiation, by atonement and compromise, +as were practised upon earth?" This bridge between two worlds was +found in Cluny, which from its very birth, about 900, became at once +among the wealthiest of the monastic orders. + +So long as God Himself dealt out his punishments, _making heavy his +hand_, or striking _with the sword of the Angel_, according to the +grand old phrase, there was much less of horror; if his hand was heavy +as that of a judge, it was still the hand of a Father. The Angel who +struck remained pure and clean as his own sword. Far otherwise is it +when the execution is done by filthy demons, who resemble not the +angel that burned up Sodom, but the angel that first went forth +therefrom. In that place they stay, and their hell is a kind of Sodom, +wherein these spirits, fouler than the sinners yielded into their +charge, extract a horrible joy from the tortures they are inflicting. +Such was the teaching to be found in the simple carvings hung out at +the doors of churches. By these men learned the horrible lesson of the +pleasures of pain. On pretence of punishing, the devils wreaked upon +their victims the most outrageous whims. Truly an immoral and most +shameful idea was this, of a sham justice that befriended the worse +side, deepening its wickedness by the present of a plaything, and +corrupting the Demon himself! + + * * * * * + +Cruel times indeed! Think how dark and low a heaven it was, how +heavily it weighed on the head of man! Fancy the poor little children +from their earliest years imbued with such awful ideas, and trembling +within their cradles! Look at the pure innocent virgin believing +herself damned for the pleasure infused in her by the spirit! And the +wife in her marriage-bed tortured by his attacks, withstanding him, +and yet again feeling him within her!--a fearful feeling known to +those who have suffered from taenia. You feel in yourself a double +life; you trace the monster's movements, now boisterous, anon soft and +waving, and therein the more troublesome, as making you fancy yourself +on the sea. Then you rush off in wild dismay, terrified at yourself, +longing to escape, to die. + +Even at such times as the demon was not raging against her, the woman +into whom he had once forced his way would wander about as one +burdened with gloom. For thenceforth she had no remedy. He had taken +fast hold of her, like an impure steam. He is the Prince of the Air, +of storms, and not least of the storms within. All this may be seen +rudely but forcefully presented under the great doorway of Strasburg +Cathedral. Heading the band of _Foolish Virgins_, the wicked woman who +lures them on to destruction is filled, blown out by the Devil, who +overflows ignobly and passes out from under her skirts in a dark +stream of thick smoke. + +This blowing-out is a painful feature in the _possession_; at once her +punishment and her pride. This proud woman of Strasburg bears her +belly well before her, while her head is thrown far back. She triumphs +in her size, delights in being a monster. + +To this, however, the woman we are following has not yet come. But +already she is puffed up with him, and with her new and lofty lot. +The earth has ceased to bear her. Plump and comely in these better +days, she goes down the street with head upright, and merciless in her +scorn. She is feared, hated, admired. + +In look and bearing our village lady says, "I ought to be the great +lady herself. And what does she up yonder, the shameless sluggard, +amidst all those men, in the absence of her lord?" And now the rivalry +is set on foot. The village, while it loathes her, is proud thereat. +"If the lady of the castle is a baroness, our woman is a queen; and +more than a queen,--we dare not say what." Her beauty is a dreadful, a +fantastic beauty, killing in its pride and pain. The Demon himself is +in her eyes. + + * * * * * + +He has her and yet has her not. She is still _herself_, and preserves +_herself_. She belongs neither to the Demon nor to God. The Demon may +certainly invade her, may encompass her like a fine atmosphere. And +yet he has gained nothing at all; for he has no will thereto. She is +_possessed_, _bedevilled_, and she does not belong to the Devil. +Sometimes he uses her with dreadful cruelty, and yet gains nothing +thereby. He places a coal of fire on her breast, or within her bowels. +She jumps and writhes, but still says, "No, butcher, I will stay as I +am." + +"Take care! I will lash you with so cruel a scourge of vipers, I will +smite you with such a blow, that you will afterwards go weeping and +rending the air with your cries." + +The next night he will not come. In the morning--it was Sunday--her +husband went up to the castle. He came back all undone. The lord had +said: "A brook that flows drop by drop cannot turn the mill. You bring +me a halfpenny at a time, which is good for nought. I must set off in +a fortnight. The king marches towards Flanders, and I have not even a +war-horse, my own being lame ever since the tourney. Get ready for +business: I am in want of a hundred pounds." + +"But, my lord, where shall I find them?" + +"You may sack the whole village, if you will; I am about to give you +men enough. Tell your churls, if the money is not forthcoming they are +lost men; yourself especially--you shall die. I have had enough of +you: you have the heart of a woman; you are slack and sluggish. You +shall die--you shall pay for your cowardice, your effeminacy. Stay; it +makes but very small difference whether you go down now, or whether I +keep you here. This is Sunday: right loudly would the folk yonder +laugh to see you dangling your legs from my battlements." + +All this the unhappy man tells again to his wife; and preparing +hopelessly for death, commends his soul to God. She being just as +frightened, can neither lie down nor sleep. What is to be done? How +sorry she is now to have sent the spirit away! If he would but come +back! In the morning, when her husband rises, she sinks crushed upon +the bed. She has hardly done so, when she feels on her chest a heavy +weight. Gasping for breath, she is like to choke. The weight falls +lower till it presses on her stomach, and therewithal on her arms she +feels the grasp as of two steel hands. + +"You wanted me, and here I am. So, at last, stubborn one, I have your +soul--at last!" + +"But oh, sir, is it mine to give away? My poor husband! you used to +love him--you said so: you promised----" + +"Your husband! You forget. Are you sure your thoughts were always kept +upon him? Your soul! I ask for it as a favour; but it is already +mine." + +"No, sir," she says--her pride once more returning to her, even in so +dire a strait--"no, sir; that soul belongs to me, to my husband, to +our marriage rites." + +"Ah, incorrigible little fool! you would struggle still, even now that +you are under the goad! I have seen your soul at all hours; I know it +better than you yourself. Day by day did I mark your first +reluctances, your pains, and your fits of despair. I saw how +disheartened you were when, in a low tone, you said that no one could +be held to an impossibility. And then I saw you growing more resigned. +You were beaten a little, and you cried out not very loud. As for me, +I ask for your soul simply because you have already lost it. +Meanwhile, your husband is dying. What is to be done? I am sorry for +you: I have you in my power; but I want something more. You must +grant it frankly and of free will, or else he is a dead man." + +She answered very low, in her sleep, "Ah me! my body and my miserable +flesh, you may take them to save my husband; but my heart, never. No +one has ever had it, and I cannot give it away." + +So, all resignedly she waited there. And he flung at her two words: +"Keep them, and they will save you." Therewith she shuddered, felt +within her a horrible thrill of fire, and, uttering a loud cry, awoke +in the arms of her astonished husband, to drown him in a flood of +tears. + + * * * * * + +She tore herself away by force, and got up, fearing lest she should +forget those two important words. Her husband was alarmed; for, +without looking even at him, she darted on the wall a glance as +piercing as that of Medea. Never was she more handsome. In her dark +eye and the yellowish white around it played such a glimmer as one +durst not face--a glimmer like the sulphurous jet of a volcano. + +She walked straight to the town. The first word was "_Green_." Hanging +at a tradesman's door she beheld a green gown--the colour of the +Prince of the World--an old gown, which as she put it on became new +and glossy. Then she walked, without asking anyone, straight to the +door of a Jew, at which she knocked loudly. It was opened with great +caution. The poor Jew was sitting on the ground, covered over with +ashes. "My dear, I must have a hundred pounds." + +"Oh, madam, how am I to get them? The Prince-bishop of the town has +just had my teeth drawn to make me say where my gold lies.[31] Look at +my bleeding mouth." + + [31] This was a common way of extracting help from the Jews. + King John Lackland often tried it. + +"I know, I know; but I come to obtain from you the very means of +destroying your Bishop. When the Pope gets a cuffing, the Bishop will +not hold out long." + +"Who says so?" + +"_Toledo._"[32] + + [32] Toledo seems to have been the holy city of Wizards, who + in Spain were numberless. These relations with the civilized + Moors, with the Jews so learned and paramount in Spain, as + managers of the royal revenues, had given them a very high + degree of culture, and in Toledo they formed a kind of + University. In the sixteenth century, it was christianised, + remodelled, reduced to mere _white magic_. See the + _Deposition of the Wizard Achard, Lord of Beaumont, a + Physician of Poitou_. Lancre, _Incredulite_, p. 781. + +He hung his head. She spoke and blew: within her was her own soul and +the Devil to boot. A wondrous warmth filled the room: he himself was +aware of a kind of fiery fountain. "Madam," said he, looking at her +from under his eyes, "poor and ruined as I am, I had some pence still +in store to sustain my poor children." + +"You will not repent of it, Jew. I will swear to you the _great oath_ +that kills whoso breaks it. What you are about to give me, you shall +receive back in a week, at an early hour in the morning. This I swear +by your _great oath_ and by mine, which is yet greater: '_Toledo_.'" + + * * * * * + +A year went by. She had grown round and plump; had made herself one +mass of gold. Men were amazed at her power of charming. Every one +admired and obeyed her. By some devilish miracle the Jew had grown so +generous as to lend at the slightest signal. By herself she maintained +the castle, both through her own credit in the town, and through the +fear inspired in the village by her rough extortion. The all-powerful +green gown floated to and fro, ever newer and more beautiful. Her own +beauty grew, as it were, colossal with success and pride. Frightened +at a result so natural, everyone said, "At her time of life how tall +she grows!" + +Meanwhile we have some news: the lord is coming home. The lady, who +for a long time had not dared to come forth, lest she might meet the +face of this other woman down below, now mounted her white horse. +Surrounded by all her people, she goes to meet her husband; she stops +and salutes him. + +And, first of all, she says, "How long I have been looking for you! +Why did you leave your faithful wife so long a languishing widow? And +yet I will not take you in to-night, unless you grant me a boon." + +"Ask it, ask it, fair lady," says the gentleman laughing; "but make +haste, for I am eager to embrace you. How beautiful you have grown!" + +She whispered in his ear, so that no one knew what she said. Before +going up to the castle the worthy lord dismounts by the village +church, and goes in. Under the porch, at the head of the chief people, +he beholds a lady, to whom without knowing her he offers a low salute. +With matchless pride she bears high over the men's heads the towering +horned bonnet (_hennin_[33]) of the period; the triumphal cap of the +Devil, as it was often called, because of the two horns wherewith it +was embellished. The real lady, blushing at her eclipse, went out +looking very small. Anon she muttered, angrily, "There goes your serf. +It is all over: everything has changed places: the ass insults the +horse." + + [33] The absurd head-dress of the women, with its one and + often two horns sloping back from the head, in the fourteenth + century.--TRANS. + +As they are going off, a bold page, a pet of the lady's, draws from +his girdle a well-sharpened dagger, and with a single turn cleverly +cuts the fine robe along her loins.[34] The crowd was astonished, but +began to make it out when it saw the whole of the Baron's household +going off in pursuit of her. Swift and merciless about her whistled +and fell the strokes of the whip. She flies, but slowly, being already +grown somewhat heavy. She has hardly gone twenty paces when she +stumbles; her best friend having put a stone in her way to trip her +up. Amidst roars of laughter she sprawls yelling on the ground. But +the ruthless pages flog her up again. The noble handsome greyhounds +help in the chase and bite her in the tenderest places. At last, in +sad disorder, amidst the terrible crowd, she reaches the door of her +house. It is shut. There with hands and feet she beats away, crying, +"Quick, quick, my love, open the door for me!" There hung she, like +the hapless screech-owl whom they nail up on a farm-house door; and +still as hard as ever rained the blows. Within the house all is deaf. +Is the husband there? Or rather, being rich and frightened, does he +dread the crowd, lest they should sack his house? + + [34] Such cruel outrages were common in those days. By the + French and Anglo-Saxon laws, lewdness was thus punished. + Grimm, 679, 711. Sternhook, 19, 326. Ducange, iii. 52. + Michelet, _Origines_, 386, 389. By and by, the same rough + usage is dealt out to honest women, to citizen's wives, whose + pride the nobles seek to abase. We know the kind of ambush + into which the tyrant Hagenbach drew the honourable ladies of + the chief burghers in Alsace, probably in scorn of their rich + and royal costume, all silks and gold. In my _Origines_ I + have also related the strange claim made by the Lord of Pace, + in Anjou, on the pretty (and honest) women of the + neighbourhood. They were to bring to the castle fourpence and + a chaplet of flowers, and to dance with his officers: a + dangerous trip, in which they might well fear some such + affronts as those offered by Hagenbach. They were forced to + obey by the threat of being stripped and pricked with a goad + bearing the impress of the lord's arms. + +And now she has borne such misery, such strokes, such sounding +buffets, that she sinks down in a swoon. On the cold stone threshold +she finds herself seated, naked, half-dead, her bleeding flesh covered +with little else than the waves of her long hair. Some one from the +castle says, "No more now! We do not want her to die." + +They leave her alone, to hide herself. But in spirit she can see the +merriment going on at the castle. The lord however, somewhat dazed, +said that he was sorry for it. But the chaplain says, in his meek way, +"If this woman is _bedevilled_, as they say, my lord, you owe it to +your good vassals, you owe it to the whole country, to hand her over +to Holy Church. Since all that business with the Templars and the +Pope, what way the Demon is making! Nothing but fire will do for him." +Upon which a Dominican says, "Your reverence has spoken right well. +This devilry is a heresy in the highest degree. The bedevilled, like +the heretic, should be burnt. Some of our good fathers, however, do +not trust themselves now even to the fire. Wisely they desire that, +before all things, the soul may be slowly purged, tried, subdued by +fastings; that it may not be burnt in its pride, that it shall not +triumph at the stake. If you, madam, in the greatness of your piety, +of your charity, would take the trouble to work upon this woman, +putting her for some years _in pace_ in a safe cell, of which you +only should have the key,--by thus keeping up the chastening process +you might be doing good to her soul, shaming the Devil, and giving +herself up meek and humble into the hands of the Church." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE COVENANT. + + +Nothing was wanting but the victim. They knew that to bring this woman +before her was the most charming present she could receive. Tenderly +would she have acknowledged the devotion of anyone who would have +given her so great a token of his love, by delivering that poor +bleeding body into her hands. + +But the prey was aware of the hunters. A few minutes later and she +would have been carried off, to be for ever sealed up beneath the +stone. Wrapping herself in some rags found by chance in the stable, +she took to herself wings of some kind, and before midnight gained +some out-of-the-way spot on a lonely moor all covered with briars and +thistles. It was on the skirts of a wood, where by the uncertain light +she might gather a few acorns, to swallow them like a beast. Ages had +elapsed since evening; she was utterly changed. Beauty and queen of +the village no more, she seemed with the change in her spirit to have +changed her postures also. Among her acorns she squatted like a boar +or a monkey. Thoughts far from human circled within her as she heard, +or seemed to hear the hooting of an owl, followed by a burst of +shrill laughter. She felt afraid, but perhaps it was the merry +mockbird mimicking all those sounds, according to its wonted fashion. + +But the laughter begins again: whence comes it? She can see nothing. +Apparently it comes from an old oak. Distinctly, however, she hears +these words: "So, here you are at last! You have come with an ill +grace; nor would you have come now, if you had not tried the full +depth of your last need. You were fain first to run the gauntlet of +whips; to cry out and plead for mercy, haughty as you were; to be +mocked, undone, forsaken, unsheltered even by your husband. Where +would you have been this night, if I had not been charitable enough to +show you the _in pace_ getting ready for you in the tower? Late, very +late, you are in coming to me, and only after they have called you the +_old woman_. In your youth you did not treat me well, when I was your +wee goblin, so eager to serve you. Now take your turn, if so I wish +it, to serve me and kiss my feet. + +"You were mine from birth through your inborn wickedness, through +those devilish charms of yours. I was your lover, your husband. Your +own has shut his door against you: I will not shut mine. I welcome you +to my domains, my free prairies, my woods. How am I the gainer, you +may say? Could I not long since have had you at any hour? Were you +not invaded, possessed, filled with my flame? I changed your blood +and renewed it: not a vein in your body where I do not flow. You know +not yourself how utterly you are mine. But our wedding has yet to be +celebrated with all the forms. I have some manners, and feel rather +scrupulous. Let us be one for everlasting." + +"Oh! sir, in my present state, what should I say? For a long, long +while back have I felt, too truly felt, that you were all my fate. +With evil intent you caressed me, loaded me with favours, and made me +rich, in order at length to cast me down. Yesterday, when the black +greyhound bit my poor naked flesh, its teeth scorched me, and I said, +''Tis he!' At night when that daughter of Herodias with her foul +language scared the company, somebody put them up to the promising her +my blood; and that was you!" + +"True; but 'twas I who saved you and brought you hither. I did +everything, as you have guessed. I ruined you, and why? That I might +have you all to myself. To speak frankly, I was tired of your husband. +You took to haggling and pettifogging: far otherwise do I go to work; +I want all or none. This is why I have moulded and drilled you, +polished and ripened you, for my own behoof. Such, you see, is my +delicacy of taste. I don't take, as people imagine, those foolish +souls who would give themselves up at once. I prefer the choicer +spirits, who have reached a certain dainty stage of fury and despair. +Stop: I must let you know how pleasant you look at this moment. You +are a great beauty, a most desirable soul. I have loved you ever so +long, but now I am hungering for you. + +"I will do things on a large scale, not being one of those husbands +who reckon with their betrothed. If you wanted only riches, you should +have them in a trice. If you wanted to be queen in the stead of Joan +of Navarre, that too, though difficult, should be done, and the King +would not lose much thereby in the matter of pride and haughtiness. My +wife is greater than a queen. But, come, tell me what you wish." + +"Sir, I ask only for the power of doing evil." + +"A delightful answer, very delightful! Have I not cause to love you? +In reality those words contain all the law and all the prophets. Since +you have made so good a choice, all the rest shall be thrown in, over +and above. You shall learn all my secrets. You shall see into the +depths of the earth. The whole world shall come and pour out gold at +thy feet. See here, my bride, I give you the true diamond, +_Vengeance_. I know you, rogue; I know your most hidden desires. Ay, +our hearts on that point understand each other well! Therein at least +shall I have full possession of you. You shall behold your enemy on +her knees at your feet, begging and praying for mercy, and only too +happy to earn her release by doing whatever she has made you do. She +will burst into tears; and you will graciously say, _No_: whereon she +will cry, 'Death and damnation!' ... Come, I will make this my special +business." + +"Sir, I am at your service. I was thankless indeed, for you have +always heaped favours on me. I am yours, my master, my god! None other +do I desire. Sweet are your endearments, and very mild your service." + +And so she worships him, tumbling on all-fours. At first she pays him, +after the forms of the Temple, such homage as betokens the utter +abandonment of the will. Her master, the Prince of this World, the +Prince of the Winds, breathes upon her in his turn, like an eager +spirit. She receives at once the three sacraments, in reverse +order--baptism, priesthood, and marriage. In this new Church, the +exact opposite of the other, everything must be done the wrong way. +Meekly, patiently, she endures the cruel initiation,[35] borne up by +that one word, "Vengeance!" + + [35] This will be explained further on. We must guard against + the pedantic additions of the sixteenth century writers. + + * * * * * + +Far from being crushed or weakened by the infernal thunderbolt, she +arose with an awful vigour and flashing eyes. The moon, which for a +moment had chastely covered herself, took flight on seeing her again. +Blown out to an amazing degree by the hellish vapour, filled with +fire, with fury, and with some new ineffable desire, she grew for a +while enormous with excess of fulness, and displayed a terrible +beauty. She looked around her, and all nature was changed. The trees +had gotten a tongue, and told of things gone by. The herbs became +simples. The plants which yesterday she trod upon as so much hay, were +now as people discoursing on the art of medicine. + +She awoke on the morrow far, very far, from her enemies, in a state of +thorough security. She had been sought after, but they had only found +some scattered shreds of her unlucky green gown. Had she in her +despair flung herself headlong into the torrent? Or had she been +carried off alive by the Devil? No one could tell. Either way she was +certainly damned, which greatly consoled the lady for having failed to +find her. + +Had they seen her they would hardly have known her again, she was so +changed. Only the eyes remained, not brilliant, but armed with a very +strange and a rather deterring glimmer. She herself was afraid of +frightening: she never lowered them, but looked sideways, so that the +full force of their beams might be lost by slanting them. From the +sudden browning of her hue people would have said that she had passed +through the flame. But the more watchful felt that the flame was +rather in herself, that she bore about her an impure and scorching +heat. The fiery dart with which Satan had pierced her was still +there, and, as through a baleful lamp, shot forth a wild, but +fearfully witching sheen. Shrinking from her, you would yet stand +still, with a strange trouble filling your every sense. + +She saw herself at the mouth of one of those troglodyte caves, such as +you find without number in the hills of the Centre and the West of +France. It was in the borderland, then wild, between the country of +Merlin and the country of Melusina. Some moors stretching out of sight +still bear witness to the ancient wars, the unceasing havoc, the many +horrors, which prevented the country being peopled again. There the +Devil was in his home. Of the few inhabitants most were his zealous +worshippers. Whatever attractions he might have found in the rough +brakes of Lorraine, the black pine-forests of the Jura, or the briny +deserts of Burgos, his preferences lay, perhaps, in our western +marches. There might be found not only the visionary shepherd, that +Satanic union of the goat and the goatherd, but also a closer +conspiracy with nature, a deeper insight into remedies and poisons, a +mysterious connection, whose links we know not, with Toledo the +learned, the University of the Devil. + +The winter was setting in: its breath having first stripped the trees, +had heaped together the leaves and small boughs of dead wood. All this +she found prepared for her at the mouth of her gloomy den. By a wood +and moor, half a mile across, you came down within reach of some +villages, which had grown up beside a watercourse. "Behold your +kingdom!" said the voice within her. "To-day a beggar, to-morrow you +shall be queen of the whole land." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE KING OF THE DEAD. + + +At first she was not much affected by promises like these. A lonely +hermitage without God, amidst the great monotonous breezes of the +West, amidst memories all the more ruthless for that mighty solitude, +of such heavy losses, such sharp affronts; a widowhood so hard and +sudden, away from the husband who had left her to her shame--all this +was enough to bow her down. Plaything of fate, she seemed like the +wretched weed upon the moor, having no root, but tossed to and fro, +lashed and cruelly cut by the north-east winds; or rather, perhaps, +like the grey, many-cornered coral, which only sticks fast to get more +easily broken. The children trampled on her; the people said, with a +laugh, "She is the bride of the winds." + +Wildly she laughed at herself when she thought on the comparison. But, +from the depth of her dark cave, she heard,-- + +"Ignorant and witless, you know not what you say. The plant thus +tossing to and fro may well look down upon the rank and vulgar herbs. +If it tosses, it is, at least, all self-contained--itself both flower +and seed. Do thou be like it; be thine own root, and even in the +whirlwind thou wilt still bear thy blossom: our own flowers for +ourselves, as they come forth from the dust of tombs and the ashes of +volcanoes. + +"To thee, first flower of Satan, do I this day grant the knowledge of +my former name, my olden power. I was, I am, the _King of the Dead_. +Ay, have I not been sadly slandered? 'Tis I who alone can make them +reappear; a boon untold, for which I surely deserved an altar." + + * * * * * + +To pierce the future and to call up the past, to forestal and to live +again the swift-flying moments, to enlarge the present with that which +has been and that which will be--these are the two things forbidden to +the Middle Ages; but forbidden in vain. Nature is invincible; nothing +can be gained in such a quarter. He who thus errs is _a man_. It is +not for him to be rooted to his furrow, with eyes cast down, looking +nowhere beyond the steps he takes behind his oxen. No: we will go +forward with head upraised, looking further and looking deeper! This +earth that we measure out with so much care, we kick our feet upon +withal, and keep ever saying to it, "What dost thou hold in thy +bowels? What secrets lie therein? Thou givest us back the grain we +entrust to thee; but not that human seed, those beloved dead, we have +lent into thy charge. Our friends, our loves, that lie there, will +they never bud again? Oh, that we might see them, if only for one +hour, if only for one moment! + +"Some day we ourselves shall reach the unknown land, whither they have +already gone. But shall we see them again there? Shall we dwell with +them? Where are they, and what are they doing? They must be kept very +close prisoners, these dear dead of mine, to give me not one token! +And how can I make them hear me? My father, too, whose only hope I +was, who loved me with so mighty a love, why comes he never to me? Ah, +me! on either side is bondage, imprisonment, mutual ignorance; a +dismal night, where we look in vain for one glimmer!"[36] + + [36] The glimmer shines forth in Dumesnil's _Immortalite_, + and _La Foi Nouvelle_, in the _Ciel et Terre_ of Reynaud, + Henry Martin, &c. + +These everlasting thoughts of Nature, from having in olden times been +simply mournful, became in the Middle Ages painful, bitter, weakening, +and the heart thereby grew smaller. It seems as if they had reckoned +on flattening the soul, on pressing and squeezing it down to the +compass of a bier. The burial of the serf between four deal boards was +well suited to such an end: it haunted one with the notion of being +smothered. A person thus enclosed, if ever he returned in one's +dreams, would no longer appear as a thin luminous shadow encircled by +a halo of Elysium, but only as the wretched sport of some hellish +griffin-cat. What a hateful and impious idea, that my good, kind +father, my mother so revered by all, should become the plaything of +such a beast! You may laugh now, but for a thousand years it was no +laughing matter: they wept bitterly. And even now the heart swells +with wrath, the very pen grates angrily upon the paper, as one writes +down these blasphemous doings. + + * * * * * + +Moreover, it was surely a cruel device to transfer the Festival of the +Dead from the Spring, where antiquity had placed it, to November. In +May, where it fell at first, they were buried among the flowers. In +March, wherein it was afterwards placed, it became the signal for +labour and the lark. The dead and the seed of corn entered the earth +together with the same hope. But in November, when all the work is +done, the weather close and gloomy for many days to come; when the +folk return to their homes; when a man, re-seating himself by the +hearth, looks across on that place for evermore empty--ah, me! at such +a time how great the sorrow grows! Clearly, in choosing a moment +already in itself so funereal, for the obsequies of Nature, they +feared that a man would not find cause enough of sorrow in himself! + +The coolest, the busiest of men, however taken up they be with life's +distracting cares, have, at least, their sadder moments. In the dark +wintry morning, in the night that comes on so swift to swallow us up +in its shadow, ten years, nay, twenty years hence, strange feeble +voices will rise up in your heart: "Good morning, dear friend, 'tis +we! You are alive, are working as hard as ever. So much the better! +You do not feel our loss so heavily, and you have learned to do +without us; but we cannot, we never can, do without you. The ranks are +closed, the gap is all but filled. The house that was ours is full, +and we have blessed it. All is well, is better than when your father +carried you about; better than when your little girl said, in her +turn, to you, 'Papa, carry me.' But, lo! you are in tears. Enough, +till we meet again!" + +Alas, and are they gone? That wail was sweet and piercing: but was it +just? No. Let me forget myself a thousand times rather than I should +forget them! And yet, cost what it will to say so, say it we must, +that certain traces are fading off, are already less clear to see; +that certain features are not indeed effaced, but grown paler and more +dim. A hard, a bitter, a humbling thought it is, to find oneself so +weak and fleeting, wavering as unremembered water; to feel that in +time one loses that treasure of grief which one had hoped to preserve +for ever. Give it me back, I pray: I am too much bounden to so rich a +fountain of tears. Trace me again, I implore you, those features I +love so well. Could you not help me at least to dream of them by +night? + + * * * * * + +More than one such prayer is spoken in the month of November. And +amidst the striking of the bells and the dropping of the leaves, they +clear out of church, saying one to another in low tones: "I say, +neighbour; up there lives a woman of whom folk speak well and ill. +For myself, I dare say nothing; but she has power over the world +below. She calls up the dead, and they come. Oh, if she might--without +sin, you know, without angering God--make my friends come to me! I am +alone, as you must know, and have lost everything in this world. But +who knows what this woman is, whether of hell or heaven? I won't go +(he is dying of curiosity all the while); I won't. I have no wish to +endanger my soul: besides, the wood yonder is haunted. Many's the time +that things unfit to see have been found on the moor. Haven't you +heard about Jacqueline, who was there one evening looking for one of +her sheep? Well, when she returned, she was crazy. I won't go." + +Thus unknown to each other, many of the men at least went thither. For +as yet the women hardly dared so great a risk. They remark the dangers +of the road, ask many questions of those who return therefrom. The new +Pythoness is not like her of Endor, who raised up Samuel at the prayer +of Saul. Instead of showing you the ghosts, she gives you cabalistic +words and powerful potions to bring them back in your dreams. Ah, how +many a sorrow has recourse to these! The grandmother herself, +tottering with her eighty years, would behold her grandson again. By +an unwonted effort, yet not without a pang of shame at sinning on the +edge of the grave, she drags herself to the spot. She is troubled by +the savage look of a place all rough with yews and thorns, by the +rude, dark beauty of that relentless Proserpine. Prostrate, +trembling, grovelling on the ground, the poor old woman weeps and +prays. Answer there is none. But when she dares to lift herself up a +little, she sees that Hell itself has been a-weeping. + + * * * * * + +It is simply Nature recovering herself. Proserpine blushes +self-indignantly thereat. "Degenerate soul!" she calls herself, "why +this weakness? You came hither with the firm desire of doing nought +but evil. Is this your master's lesson? How he will laugh at you for +this!" + +"Nay! Am I not the great shepherd of the shades, making them come and +go, opening unto them the gate of dreams? Your Dante, when he drew my +likeness, forgot my attributes. When he gave me that useless tail, he +did not see that I held the shepherd's staff of Osiris; that from +Mercury I had inherited his caduceus. In vain have they thought to +build up an insurmountable wall between the two worlds; I have wings +to my heels, I have flown over. By a kindly rebellion of that +slandered Spirit, of that ruthless monster, succour has been given to +those who mourned; mothers, lovers, have found comfort. He has taken +pity on them in defiance of their new god." + +The scribes of the Middle Ages, being all of the priestly class, never +cared to acknowledge the deep but silent changes of the popular mind. +It is clear that from thenceforth compassion goes over to Satan's +side. The Virgin herself, ideal as she is of grace, makes no answer +to such a want of the heart. Neither does the Church, who expressly +forbids the calling up of the dead. While all books delight in keeping +up either the swinish demon of earlier times, or the griffin butcher +of the second period, Satan has changed his shape for those who cannot +write. He retains somewhat of the ancient Pluto; but his pale nor +wholly ruthless majesty, that permitted the dead to come back, the +living once more to see the dead, passes ever more and more into the +nature of his father, or his grandfather, Osiris, the shepherd of +souls. + +Through this one change come many others. Men with their mouths +acknowledge the hell official and the boiling caldrons; but in their +hearts do they truly believe therein? Would it be so easy to win these +infernal favours for hearts beset with hateful traditions of a hell of +torments? The one idea neutralizes without wholly effacing the other, +and between them grows up a vague mixed image, resembling more and +more nearly the hell of Virgil. A mighty solace was here offered to +the human heart. Blessed above all was the relief thus given to the +poor women, whom that dreadful dogma about the punishment of their +loved dead had kept drowned in tears and inconsolable. The whole of +their lifetime had been but one long sigh. + + * * * * * + +The Sibyl was musing over her master's words, when a very light step +became audible. The day has scarcely dawned: it is after Christmas, +about the first day of the new year. Over the crisp and rimy grass +approaches a small, fair woman, all a-trembling, who has no sooner +reached the spot, than she swoons and loses her breath. Her black gown +tells plainly of her widowhood. To the piercing gaze of Medea, without +moving or speaking, she reveals all: there is no mystery about her +shrinking figure. The other says to her with a loud voice: "You need +not tell me, little dumb creature, for you would never get to the end +of it. I will speak for you. Well, you are dying of love!" Recovering +a little, she clasps her hands together, and sinking almost on her +knees, tells everything, making a full confession. She had suffered, +wept, prayed, and would have silently suffered on. But these winter +feasts, these family re-unions, the ill-concealed happiness of other +women who, without pity for her, showed off their lawful loves, had +driven the burning arrow again into her heart. Alas, what could she +do? If he might but return and comfort her for one moment! "Be it even +at the cost of my life; let me die, but only let me see him once +more!" + +"Go back to your house: shut the door carefully: put up the shutter +even against any curious neighbour. Throw off your mourning, and put +on your wedding-clothes; place a cover for him on the table; but yet +he will not come. You will sing the song he made for you, and sang to +you so often, but yet he will not come. Then you shall draw out of +your box the last dress he wore, and, kissing it, say, 'So much the +worse for thee if thou wilt not come!' And presently when you have +drunk this wine, bitter, but very sleepful, you will lie down as a +wedded bride. Then assuredly he will come to you." + +The little creature would have been no woman, if next morning she had +not shown her joy and tenderness by owning the miracle in whispers to +her best friend. "Say nought of it, I beg. But he himself told me, +that if I wore this gown and slept a deep sleep every Sunday, he would +return." + +A happiness not without some danger. Where would the rash woman be, if +the Church learned that she was no longer a widow; that re-awakened by +her love, the spirit came to console her? + +But strange to tell, the secret is kept. There is an understanding +among them all, to hide so sweet a mystery. For who has no concern +therein? Who has not lost and mourned? Who would not gladly see this +bridge created between two worlds? "O thou beneficent Witch! Blessed +be thou, spirit of the nether world!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE PRINCE OF NATURE. + + +Hard is the long sad winter of the North-west. Even after its +departure it renews its visits, like a drowsy sorrow which ever and +again comes back and rages afresh. One morning everything wakes up +decked with bright needles. In this cruel mocking splendour that makes +one shiver through and through, the whole vegetable world seems turned +mineral, loses its sweet diversity, and freezes into a mass of rough +crystals. + +The poor Sibyl, as she sits benumbed by her hearth of leaves, scourged +by the flaying north-east winds, feels at her heart a cruel pang, for +she feels herself all alone. But that very thought again brings her +relief. With returning pride returns a vigour that warms her heart and +lights up her soul. Intent, quick, and sharp, her sight becomes as +piercing as those needles; and the world, the cruel world that caused +her suffering, is to her transparent as glass. Anon she rejoices over +it, as over a conquest of her making. + +For is she not a queen, a queen with courtiers of her own? The crows +have clearly some connection with her. In grave, dignified body they +come like ancient augurs, to talk to her of passing things. The +wolves passing by salute her timidly with sidelong glances. The bear, +then oftener seen than now, would sometimes, in his heavily +good-natured way, seat himself awkwardly at the threshold of her den, +like a hermit calling on a fellow-hermit, just as we often see him in +the Lives of the Desert Fathers. + +All those birds and beasts with whom men only made acquaintance in +hunting or slaying them, were outlawed as much as she. With all these +she comes to an understanding; for Satan as the chief outlaw, imparts +to his own the pleasures of natural freedom, the wild delight of +living in a world sufficient unto itself. + + * * * * * + +Rough freedom of loneliness, all hail! The whole earth seems still +clothed in a white shroud, held in bondage by a load of ice, of +pitiless crystals, so uniform, sharp, and agonizing. After the year +1200 especially, the world is shut in like a transparent tomb, wherein +all things look terribly motionless, hard, and stiff. + +The Gothic Church has been called a "crystallization;" and so it truly +is. About 1300, architecture gave up all its old variety of form and +living fancies, to repeat itself for evermore, to vie with the +monotonous prisms of Spitzbergen, to become the true and awful +likeness of that hard crystal city, in which a dreadful dogma thought +to bury all life away. + +But for all the props, buttresses, flying-buttresses, that keep the +monument up, one thing there is that makes it totter. There is no loud +battering from without, but a certain softness in the very +foundations, which attacks the crystal with an imperceptible thaw. +What thing do I mean? The humble stream of warm tears shed by a whole +world, until they have become a very sea of wailings. What do I call +it? A breath of the future, a stirring of the natural life, which +shall presently rise again in irresistible might. The fantastic +building of which more than one side is already sinking, says, not +without terror, to itself, "It is the breath of Satan." + +Beneath this Hecla-glacier lies a volcano which has no need of +bursting out; a mild, slow, gentle heat, which caresses it from below, +and, calling it nearer, says in a whisper, "Come down." + + * * * * * + +The Witch has something to laugh at, if from the gloom she can see how +utterly Dante and St. Thomas,[37] in the bright light yonder, ignore +the true position of things. They fancy that the Devil wins his way by +cunning or by terror. They make him grotesque and coarse, as in his +childhood, when Jesus could still send him into the herd of swine. Or +else they make him subtle as a logician of the schools, or a +fault-finding lawyer. If he had been no better than this compound of +beast and disputant,--if he had only lived in the mire or on +fine-drawn quibbles about nothing, he would very soon have died of +hunger. + + [37] St. Thomas Aquinas, the "Angelic Doctor," who died in + 1274.--TRANS. + +People were too ready to crow over him, when he was shewn by +Bartolus[38] pleading against the woman--that is, the Virgin--who gets +him nonsuited and condemned with costs. At that time, indeed, the very +contrary was happening on earth. By a master-stroke of his he had won +over the plaintiff herself, his fair antagonist, the Woman; had +seduced her, not indeed by verbal pleadings, but by arguments not less +real than they were charming and irresistible. He put into her hands +the fruits of science and of nature. + + [38] Bartolus or Bartoli, a lawyer and law-writer of the + fourteenth century.--TRANS. + +No need for controversies, for pleas of any kind: he simply shows +himself. In the East, the new-found Paradise, he begins to work. From +that Asian world, which men had thought to destroy, there springs +forth a peerless day-dawn, whose beams travel afar until they pierce +the deep winter of the West. There dawns on us a world of nature and +of art, accursed of the ignorant indeed, but now at length come +forward to vanquish its late victors in a pleasant war of love and +motherly endearments. All are conquered, all rave about it; they will +have nothing but Asia herself. With her hands full she comes to meet +us. Her tissues, shawls, her carpets so agreeably soft, so wondrously +harmonized, her bright and well-wrought blades, her richly damascened +arms, make us aware of our own barbarism. Moreover, little as that may +seem, these accursed lands of the "miscreant," ruled by Satan, are +visibly blessed with the fairest fruits of nature, that elixir of the +powers of God; with _the first of vegetables_, coffee; with _the first +of beasts_, the Arab horse. What am I saying?--with a whole world of +treasures, silk, sugar, and a host of herbs all-powerful to relieve +the heart, to soothe and lighten our sufferings. + +All this breaks upon our view about the year 1300. Spain herself, +whose brain is wholly fashioned out of Moors and Jews, for all that +she is again subdued by the barbarous children of the Goth, bears +witness in behalf of those _miscreants_. Wherever the Mussulman +children of the Devil are at work, all is prosperous, the springs well +forth, the ground is covered with flowers. A right worthy and harmless +travail decks it with those wondrous vineyards, through which men +recruit themselves, drowning all care, and seeming to drink in +draughts of very goodness and heavenly compassion. + + * * * * * + +To whom does Satan bring the foaming cup of life? In this fasting +world, which has so long been fasting from reason, what man was there +strong enough to take all this in without growing giddy, without +getting drunken and risking the loss of his wits? + +Is there yet a brain so far from being petrified or crystallized by +the teaching of St. Thomas, as to remain open to the living world, to +its vegetative forces? Three magicians, Albert the Great, Roger Bacon, +Arnaud of Villeneuve,[39] by strong efforts make their way to Nature's +secrets; but those lusty intellects lack flexibility and popular +power. Satan falls back on his own Eve. The woman is still the most +natural thing in the world; still keeps her hold on those traits of +roguish innocence one sees in a kitten or a child of very high spirit. +Besides, she figures much better in that world-comedy, that mighty +game wherewith the universal Proteus disports himself. + + [39] Three eminent schoolmen of the thirteenth century, whose + scientific researches pointed the way to future + discoveries.--TRANS. + +But being light and changeful, she is all the less liable to be carked +and hardened by pain! This woman, whom we have seen outlawed from the +world, and rooted on her wild moor, affords a case in point. Have we +yet to learn whether, bruised and soured as she is, with her heart +full of hate, she will re-enter the natural world and the pleasant +paths of life? Assuredly her return thither will not find her in good +tune, will happen mainly through a round of ill. In the coming and +going of the storm she is all the more scared and violent for being so +very weak. + +When in the mild warmth of spring, from the air, the depths of the +earth, from the flowers and their languages, a new revelation rises +round her on every side, she is taken dizzy at the first. Her +swelling bosom overflows. The Sibyl of science has her tortures, like +her of Cumae or of Delphi. The schoolmen find their fun in saying, "It +is the wind and nought else that blows her out. Her lover, the Prince +of the Air, fills her with dreams and delusions, with wind, with +smoke, with emptiness." Foolish irony! So far from this being the true +cause of her drunkenness, it is nothing empty, it is a real, a +substantial thing, which has loaded her bosom all too quickly. + + * * * * * + +Have you ever seen the agave, that hard wild African shrub, so sharp, +bitter, and tearing, with huge bristles instead of leaves? Ten years +through it loves and dies. At length one day the amorous shoot, which +has so long been gathering in the rough thing, goes off with a noise +like gunfire, and darts skyward. And this shoot becomes a whole tree, +not less than thirty feet high, and bristling with sad flowers. + +Some such analogy does the gloomy Sibyl feel, when one morning of a +spring-time, late in coming, and therefore impetuous at the last, +there takes place all around her a vast explosion of life. + +And all things look at her, and all things bloom for her. For every +thing that has life says softly, "Whoso understands me, I am his." + +What a contrast! Here is the wife of the desert and of despair, bred +up in hate and vengeance, and lo! all these innocent things agree to +smile upon her! The trees, soothed by the south wind, pay her gentle +homage. Each herb of the field, with its own special virtue of scent, +or remedy, or poison--very often the three things are one--offers +itself to her, saying, "Gather me." + +All things are clearly in love. "Are they not mocking me? I had been +readier for hell than for this strange festival. O spirit, art thou +indeed that spirit of dread whom once I knew, the traces of whose +cruelty I bear about me--what am I saying, and where are my +senses?--the wound of whose dealing scorches me still? + +"Ah, no! 'Tis not the spirit whom I hoped for in my rage; '_he who +always says, No!_' This other one utters a yes of love, of drunken +dizziness. What ails him? Is he the mad, the dazed soul of life? + +"They spoke of the great Pan as dead. But here he is in the guise of +Bacchus, of Priapus, eager with long-delayed desire, threatening, +scorching, teeming. No, no! Be this cup far from me! Trouble only +should I drink from it,--who knows? A despair yet sharper than my past +despairs." + +Meanwhile wherever the woman appears, she becomes the one great object +of love. She is followed by all, and for her sake all despise their +own proper kind. What they say about the black he-goat, her pretended +favourite, may be applied to all. The horse neighs for her, breaking +everything and putting her in danger. The awful king of the prairie, +the black bull, bellows with grief, should she pass him by at a +distance. And, behold, yon bird despondingly turns away from his hen, +and with whirring wings hastes to convince the woman of his love! + +Such is the new tyranny of her master, who, by the funniest hap of +all, foregoes the part accredited to him as king of the dead, to burst +forth a very king of life. + +"No!" she says; "leave me to my hatred: I ask for nothing more. Let me +be feared and fearful! The beauty I would have, is only that which +dwells in these black serpents of my hair, in this countenance +furrowed with grief, and the scars of thy thunderbolt." But the Lord +of Evil replies with cunning softness: "Oh, but you are only the more +beautiful, the more impressible, for this fiery rage of yours! Ay, +call out and curse on, beneath one and the same goad! 'Tis but one +storm calling another. Swift and smooth is the passage from wrath to +pleasure." + +Neither her fury nor her pride would have saved her from such +allurements. But she is saved by the boundlessness of her desire. +There is nought will satisfy her. Each kind of life for her is all too +bounded, wanting in power. Away from her, steed and bull and loving +bird! Away, ye creatures all! for one who desires the Infinite, how +weak ye are! + +She has a woman's longing; but for what? Even for the whole, the great +all-containing whole. Satan did not foresee that no one creature would +content her. + +That which he could not do, is done for her in some ineffable way. +Overcome by a desire so wide and deep, a longing boundless as the sea, +she falls asleep. At such a moment, all else forgot, no touch of hate, +no thought of vengeance left in her, she slumbers on the plain, +innocent in her own despite, stretched out in easy luxuriance like a +sheep or a dove. + +She sleeps, she dreams; a delightful dream! It seemed as if the +wondrous might of universal life had been swallowed up within her; as +if life and death and all things thenceforth lay fast in her bowels; +as if in return for all her suffering, she was teeming at last with +Nature herself. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE DEVIL A PHYSICIAN. + + +That still and dismal scene of the Bride of Corinth, is repeated +literally from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century. While it was +yet night, just before the daybreak, the two lovers, Man and Nature, +meet again, embrace with rapture, and, at that same moment--horrible +to tell!--behold themselves attacked by fearful plagues. We seem still +to hear the loved one saying to her lover, "It is all over: thy hair +will be white to-morrow. I am dead, and thou too wilt die." + +Three dreadful blows happen in these three centuries. In the first we +have a loathsome changing of the outer man, diseases of the skin, +above all, leprosy. In the second, the evil turns inwards, becomes a +grotesque excitement of the nerves, a fit of epileptic dancing. Then +all grows calm, but the blood is changed, and ulcers prepare the way +for syphilis, the scourge of the fifteenth century. + + * * * * * + +Among the chief diseases of the Middle Ages, so far as one can look +therein, to speak generally, had been hunger, weakness, poverty of +blood, that kind of consumption which is visible in the sculptures of +that time. The blood was like clear water, and scrofulous ailments +were rife everywhere. Barring the well-paid doctors, Jew or Arab, of +the kings, the art of medicine was practised only with, holy water at +the church door. Thither on Sundays, after the service, would come a +crowd of sick, to whom words like these were spoken: "You have sinned +and God has afflicted you. Be thankful: so much the less will you +suffer in the next world. Resign yourselves to suffer and to die. The +Church has prayers for the dead." Weak, languishing, hopeless, with no +desire to live, they followed this counsel faithfully, and let life go +its way. + +A fatal discouragement, a wretched state of things, that would have +prolonged without end these ages of lead, and debarred them from all +progress! Worst of all things is it to resign oneself so readily, to +welcome death with so much docility, to have strength for nothing, to +desire nothing. Of more worth was that new era, that close of the +Middle Ages, which at the cost of cruel sufferings first enabled us to +regain our former energy; namely, _the resurrection of desire_. + + * * * * * + +Some Arab writers have asserted that the widespread eruption of +skin-diseases which marks the thirteenth century, was caused by the +taking of certain stimulants to re-awaken and renew the defaults of +passion. Undoubtedly the burning spices brought over from the East, +tended somewhat to such an issue. The invention of distilling and of +divers fermented drinks may also have worked in the same direction. + +But a greater and far more general fermentation was going on. During +the sharp inward struggle between two worlds and two spirits, a third +surviving silenced both. As the fading faith and the newborn reason +were disputing together, somebody stepping between them caught hold of +man. You ask who? A spirit unclean and raging, the spirit of sour +desires, bubbling painfully within. + +Debarred from all outlet, whether of bodily enjoyment, or the free +flow of soul, the sap of life thus closely rammed together, was sure +to corrupt itself. Bereft of light, of sound, of speech, it spoke +through pains and ominous excrescences. Then happened a new and +dreadful thing. The desire put off without being diminished, finds +itself stopped short by a cruel enchantment, a shocking +metamorphosis.[40] Love was advancing blindly with open arms. It +recoils groaning; but in vain would it flee: the fire of the blood +keeps raging; the flesh eats itself away in sharp titillations, and +sharper within rages the coal of fire, made fiercer by despair. + + [40] Leprosy has been traced to Asia and the Crusades; but + Europe had it in herself. The war declared by the Middle Ages + against the flesh and all cleanliness bore its fruits. More + than one saint boasted of having never washed even his hands. + And how much did the rest wash? To have stripped for a moment + would have been sinful. The worldlings carefully follow the + teaching of the monks. This subtle and refined society, which + sacrificed marriage and seemed inspired only with the poetry + of adultery, preserved a strange scruple on a point so + harmless. It dreaded all cleansing, as so much defilement. + There was no bathing for a thousand years! + +What remedy does Christian Europe find for this twofold ill? Death and +captivity; nothing more. When the bitter celibacy, the hopeless love, +the passion irritable and ever-goading, bring you into a morbid state; +when your blood is decomposing, then you shall go down into an _In +pace_, or build your hut in the desert. You must live with the +handbell in your hand, that all may flee before you. "No human being +must see you: no consolation may be yours. If you come near, 'tis +death." + + * * * * * + +Leprosy is the last stage, the _apogee_ of this scourge; but a +thousand other ills, less hideous but still cruel, raged everywhere. +The purest and the most fair were stricken with sad eruptions, which +men regarded as sin made visible, or the chastisement of God. Then +people did what the love of life had never made them do: they forsook +the old sacred medicine, the bootless holy water, and went off to the +Witch. From habit and fear as well, they still repaired to church; but +thenceforth their true church was with her, on the moor, in the +forest, in the desert. To her they carried their vows. + +Prayers for healing, prayers for pleasure. On the first effervescing +of their heated blood, folk went to the Sibyl, in great secrecy, at +uncertain hours. "What shall I do? and what is this I feel within me? +I burn: give me some lenitive. I burn: grant me that which causes my +intolerable desire." + +A bold, a blamable journey, for which they reproach themselves at +night. Let this new fatality be never so urgent, this fire be never so +torturing, the Saints themselves never so powerless; still, have not +the indictment of the Templars and the proceedings of Pope Boniface +unveiled the Sodom lying hid beneath the altar? But a wizard Pope, a +friend of the Devil, who also carried him away, effects a change in +all their ideas. Was it not with the Demon's help that John XXII., the +son of a shoemaker, a Pope no more of Rome, succeeded in amassing in +his town of Avignon more gold than the Emperor and all the kings? As +the Pope is, so is the bishop. Did not Guichard, Bishop of Troyes, +procure from the Devil the death of the King's daughters? No death we +ask for--we; but pleasant things--for life, for health, for beauty, +and for pleasure: the things of God which God refuses. What shall we +do? Might we but win them through the grace of the _Prince of this +World_! + + * * * * * + +When the great and mighty doctor of the Renaissance, Paracelsus, cast +all the wise books of ancient medicine into the fire, Latin, and +Jewish, and Arabic, all at once, he declared that he had learned none +but the popular medicine, that of the _good women_,[41] the +_shepherds_, and the _headsmen_, the latter of whom made often good +horse-doctors and clever surgeons, resetting bones broken or put out +of joint. + + [41] The name given in fear and politeness to the witches. + +I make no doubt but that his admirable and masterly work on _The +Diseases of Women_--the first then written on a theme so large, so +deep, so tender--came forth from his special experience of those women +to whom others went for aid; of the witches, namely, who always acted +as the midwives: for never in those days was a male physician admitted +to the woman's side, to win her trust in him, to listen to her +secrets. The witches alone attended her, and became, especially for +women, the chief and only physician. + + * * * * * + +What we know for surest with regard to their medicinal practice is, +that for ends the most different, alike to stimulate and to soothe, +they made use of one large family of doubtful and very dangerous +plants, called, by reason of the services they rendered, _The +Comforters_, or Solaneae.[42] + + [42] Man's ingratitude is painful to see. A thousand other + plants have come into use: a hundred exotic vegetables have + become the fashion. But the good once done by these poor + _Comforters_ is clean forgotten!--Nay, who now remembers or + even acknowledges the old debt of humanity to harmless + nature? The _Asclepias acida_, _Sarcostemma_, or flesh-plant, + which for five thousand years was the _Holy Wafer_ of the + East, its very palpable God, eaten gladly by five hundred + millions of men,--this plant, in the Middle Ages called the + Poison-queller (_vince-venenum_), meets with not one word of + historical comment in our books of Botany. Perhaps two + thousand years hence they will forget the wheat. See Langlois + on the _Soma_ of India and the _Hom_ of Persia. _Mem. de + l'Academie des Inscriptions_, xix. 326. + +A vast and popular family, many kinds of which abound to excess under +our feet, in the hedges, everywhere--a family so numerous that of one +kind alone we have eight hundred varieties.[43] There is nothing +easier, nothing more common, to find. But these plants are mostly +dangerous in the using. It needs some boldness to measure out a dose, +the boldness, perhaps, of genius. + + [43] M. d'Orbigny's _Dictionary of Natural History_, article + _Morelles_. + +Let us, step by step, mount the ladder of their powers.[44] The first +are simply pot-herbs, good for food, such as the mad-apples and the +tomatoes, miscalled "love-apples." Other, of the harmless kinds, are +sweetness and tranquillity itself, as the white mullens, or lady's +fox-gloves, so good for fomentations. + + [44] I have found this ladder nowhere else. It is the more + important, because the witches who made these essays at the + risk of passing for poisoners, certainly began with the + weakest, and rose gradually to the strongest. Each step of + power thus gives its relative date, and helps us in this dark + subject to set up a kind of chronology. I shall complete it + in the following chapters, when I come to speak of the + Mandragora and the Datura. I have chiefly followed Pouchet's + _Solanees_ and _Botanique Generale_. + +Going higher up, you come on a plant already suspicious, which many +think a poison, a plant which at first seems like honey and afterwards +tastes bitter, reminding one of Jonathan's saying, "I have eaten a +little honey, and therefore shall I die." But this death is +serviceable, a dying away of pain. The "bittersweet" should have been +the first experiment of that bold homoeopathy which rose, little by +little, up to the most dangerous poisons. The slight irritation and +the tingling which it causes might point it out as a remedy for the +prevalent diseases of that time, those, namely, of the skin. + +The pretty maiden who found herself woefully adorned with uncouth red +patches, with pimples, or with ringworm, would come crying for such +relief. In the case of an elder woman the hurt would be yet more +painful. The bosom, most delicate thing in nature, with its innermost +vessels forming a matchless flower, becomes, through its injective and +congestive tendencies, the most perfect instrument for causing pain. +Sharp, ruthless, restless are the pains she suffers. Gladly would she +accept all kinds of poison. Instead of bargaining with the Witch, she +only puts her poor hard breast between her hands. + +From the bittersweet, too weak for such, we rise to the dark +nightshades, which have rather more effect. For a few days the woman +is soothed. Anon she comes back weeping. "Very well, to-night you may +come again. I will fetch you something, as you wish me; but it will be +a strong poison." + +It was a heavy risk for the Witch. At that time they never thought +that poisons could act as remedies, if applied outwardly or taken in +very weak doses. The plants they compounded together under the name of +_witches' herbs_, seemed to be but ministers of death. Such as were +found in her hands would have proved her, in their opinion, a poisoner +or a dealer in accursed charms. A blind crowd, all the more cruel for +its growing fears, might fell her with a shower of stones, or make her +undergo the trial by water--the _noyade_. Or even--most dreadful doom +of all!--they might drag her with a rope round her neck to the +churchyard, where a pious festival was held and the people edified by +seeing her thrown to the flames. + +However, she runs the risk, and fetches home the dreadful plant. The +other woman comes back to her abode by night or morning, whenever she +is least afraid of being met. But a young shepherd, who saw her there, +told the village, "If you had seen her as I did, gliding among the +rubbish of the ruined hut, looking about her on all sides, muttering I +know not what! Oh, but she has frightened me very much! If she had +seen me, I was a lost man. She would have changed me into a lizard, a +toad, or a bat. She took a paltry herb--the paltriest I ever saw--of a +pale sickly yellow, with red and black marks, like the flames, as they +say, of hell. The horror of the thing is, that the whole stalk was +hairy like a man, with long, black, sticky hairs. She plucked it +roughly, with a grunt, and suddenly I saw her no more. She could not +have run away so quick; she must have flown. What a dreadful thing +that woman is! How dangerous to the whole country!" + +Certainly the plant inspires dread. It is the henbane, a cruel and +dangerous poison, but a powerful emollient, a soft sedative poultice, +which melts, unbends, lulls to sleep the pain, often taking it quite +away. + +Another of these poisons--the Belladonna, so called, undoubtedly, in +thankful acknowledgment, had great power in laying the convulsions +that sometimes supervened in childbirth, and added a new danger, a new +fear, to the danger and the fear of that most trying moment. A +motherly hand instilled the gentle poison, casting the mother herself +into a sleep, and smoothing the infant's passage, after the manner of +the modern chloroform, into the world.[45] + + [45] Madame La Chapelle and M. Chaussier have renewed to good + purpose these practices of the older medicine. Pouchet, + _Solanees_. + +Belladonna cures the dancing-fits while making you dance. A daring +homoeopathy this, which at first must frighten: it is _medicine +reversed_, contrary in most things to that which alone the Christians +studied, which alone they valued, after the example of the Jews and +Arabs. + +How did men come to this result? Undoubtedly by the simple effect of +the great Satanic principle, that _everything must be done the wrong +way_, the very opposite way to that followed by the holy people. These +latter have a dread of poisons. Satan uses them and turns them into +remedies. The Church thinks by spiritual means, by sacraments and +prayers, to act even on the body. Satan, on the other hand, uses +material means to act even upon the soul, making you drink of +forgetfulness, love, reverie, and every passion. To the blessing of +the priest he opposes the magnetic passes made by the soft hands of +women, who cheat you of your pains. + + * * * * * + +By a change of system, and yet more of dress, as in the substitution +of linen for wool, the skin-diseases lost their intensity. Leprosy +abated, but seemed to go inwards and beget deeper ills. The fourteenth +century wavered between three scourges--the epileptic dancings, the +plague, and the sores which, according to Paracelsus, led the way to +syphilis. + +The first danger was not the least. About 1350 it broke out in a +frightful manner with the dance of St. Guy, and was singular +especially in this, that it did not act upon each person separately. +As if carried on by one same galvanic current, the sick caught each +other by the hand, formed immense chains, and spun and spun round till +they died. The spectators, who laughed at first, presently catching +the contagion, let themselves go, fell into the mighty current, +increased the terrible choir. + +What would have happened if the evil had held on as long as leprosy +did even in its decline? + +It was the first step, as it were, towards epilepsy. If that +generation of sufferers had not been cured, it would have begotten +another decidedly epileptic. What a frightful prospect! Think of +Europe covered with fools, with idiots, with raging madmen! We are not +told how the evil was treated and checked. The remedy prescribed by +most, the falling upon these jumpers with kicks and cuffings, was +entirely fitted to increase the frenzy and turn it into downright +epilepsy.[46] Doubtless there was some other remedy, of which people +were loth to speak. At the time when witchcraft took its first great +flight, the widespread use of the _Solaneae_, above all, of belladonna, +vulgarized the medicine which really checked those affections. At the +great popular gatherings of the Sabbath, of which we shall presently +speak, the _witches' herb_, mixed with mead, beer, cider,[47] or perry +(the strong drinks of the West), set the multitude dancing a dance +luxurious indeed, but far from epileptic. + + [46] We should think that few physicians would quite agree + with M. Michelet.--TRANS. + + [47] Cider was first made in the twelfth century. + + * * * * * + +But the greatest revolution caused by the witches, the greatest step +_the wrong way_ against the spirit of the Middle Ages, was what may be +called the reenfeoffment of the stomach and the digestive organs. They +had the boldness to say, "There is nothing foul or unclean." +Thenceforth the study of matter was free and boundless. Medicine +became a possibility. + +That this principle was greatly abused, we do not deny; but the +principle is none the less clear. There is nothing foul but moral +evil. In the natural world all things are pure: nothing may be +withheld from our studious regard, nothing be forbidden by an idle +spiritualism, still less by a silly disgust. + +It was here especially that the Middle Ages showed themselves in their +true light, as _anti-natural_, out of Nature's oneness drawing +distinctions of castes, of priestly orders. Not only do they count the +spirit _noble_, and the body _ignoble_; but even parts of the body are +called noble, while others are not, being evidently plebeian. In like +manner heaven is noble, and hell is not; but why?--"Because heaven is +high up." But in truth it is neither high nor low, being above and +beneath alike. And what is hell? Nothing at all. Equally foolish are +they about the world at large and the smaller world of men. + +This world is all one piece: each thing in it is attached to all the +rest. If the stomach is servant of the brain and feeds it, the brain +also works none the less for the stomach, perpetually helping to +prepare for it the digestive _sugar_.[48] + + [48] This great discovery was made by Claude Bernard. + + * * * * * + +There was no lack of injurious treatment. The witches were called +filthy, indecent, shameless, immoral. Nevertheless, their first steps +on that road may be accounted as a happy revolution in things most +moral, in charity and kindness. With a monstrous perversion of ideas +the Middle Ages viewed the flesh in its representative, +woman,--accursed since the days of Eve--as a thing impure. The Virgin, +exalted as _Virgin_ more than as _Our Lady_, far from lifting up the +real woman, had caused her abasement, by setting men on the track of a +mere scholastic puritanism, where they kept rising higher and higher +in subtlety and falsehood. + +Woman herself ended by sharing in the hateful prejudice and deeming +herself unclean. She hid herself at the hour of childbed. She blushed +at loving and bestowing happiness on others. Sober as she mostly was +in comparison with man, living as she mostly did on herbs and fruits, +sharing through her diet of milk and vegetables the purity of the most +innocent breeds, she almost besought forgiveness for being born, for +living, for carrying out the conditions of her life. + + * * * * * + +The medical art of the Middle Ages busied itself peculiarly about the +man, a being noble and pure, who alone could become a priest, alone +could make God at the altar. It also paid some attention to the +beasts, beginning indeed with them; but of children it thought seldom: +of women not at all. + +The romances, too, with their subtleties pourtray the converse of the +world. Outside the courts and highborn adulterers, which form the +chief topic of these romances, the woman is always a poor Griselda, +born to drain the cup of suffering, to be often beaten, and never +cared for. + +In order to mind the woman, to trample these usages under foot, and to +care for her in spite of herself, nothing less would serve than the +Devil, woman's old ally, her trusty friend in Paradise, and the Witch, +that monster who deals with everything the wrong way, exactly +contrariwise to that of the holier people. The poor creature set such +little store by herself. She would shrink back, blushing, and loth to +say a word. The Witch being clever and evil-hearted, read her to the +inmost depths. Ere long she won her to speak out, drew from her her +little secret, overcame her refusals, her modest, humble hesitations. +Rather than undergo the remedy, she was willing almost to die. But the +cruel sorceress made her live. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +CHARMS AND PHILTRES. + + +Let no one hastily conclude from the foregoing chapter that I attempt +to whiten, to acquit entirely, the dismal bride of the Devil. If she +often did good, she could also do no small amount of ill. There is no +great power which is not abused. And this one had three centuries of +actual reigning, in the interlude between two worlds, the older dying +and the new struggling painfully to begin. The Church, which in the +quarrels of the sixteenth century will regain some of her strength, at +least for fighting, in the fourteenth is down in the mire. Look at the +truthful picture drawn by Clemangis. The nobles, so proudly arrayed in +their new armour, fall all the more heavily at Crecy, Poitiers, +Agincourt. All who survive end by being prisoners in England. What a +theme for ridicule! The citizens, the very peasants make merry and +shrug their shoulders. This general absence of the lords gave, I +fancy, no small encouragement to the Sabbath gatherings which had +always taken place, but at this time might first have grown into vast +popular festivals. + +How mighty the power thus wielded by Satan's sweetheart, who cures, +foretels, divines, calls up the souls of the dead; who can throw a +spell upon you, turn you into a hare or wolf, enable you to find a +treasure, and, best of all, ensure your being beloved! It is an awful +power which combines all others. How could a stormy soul, a soul most +commonly gangrened, and sometimes grown utterly wayward, have helped +employing it to wreak her hate and revenge; sometimes even out of a +mere delight in malice and uncleanness? + +All that once was told the confessor, is now imparted to her: not only +the sins already done, but those also which folk purpose doing. She +holds each by her shameful secret, by the avowal of her uncleanest +desires. To her they entrust both their bodily and mental ills; the +lustful heats of a blood inflamed and soured; the ceaseless prickings +of some sharp, urgent, furious desire. + +To her they all come: with her there is no shame. In plain blunt words +they beseech her for life, for death, for remedies, for poisons. +Thither comes a young woman, to ask through her tears for the means of +saving her from the fruits of her sin. Thither comes the +step-mother--a common theme in the Middle Ages--to say that the child +of a former marriage eats well and lives long. Thither comes the +sorrowing wife whose children year by year are born only to die. And +now, on the other hand, comes a youth to buy at any cost the burning +draught that shall trouble the heart of some haughty dame, until, +forgetful of the distance between them, she has stooped to look upon +her little page. + + * * * * * + +In these days there are but two types, two forms of marriage, both of +them extreme and outrageous. + +The scornful heiress of a fief, who brings her husband a crown or a +broad estate, an Eleanor of Guyenne for instance, will, under her +husband's very eyes, hold her court of lovers, keeping herself under +very slight control. Let us leave romances and poems, to look at the +reality in its dread march onward to the unbridled rage of the +daughters of Philip the Fair, of the cruel Isabella, who by the hands +of her lovers impaled Edward II. The insolence of the feudal women +breaks out diabolically in the triumphant two-horned bonnet and other +brazen-faced fashions. + +But in this century, when classes are beginning to mingle slightly, +the woman of a lower rank, when she marries a lord, has to fear the +hardest trials. So says the truthful history of the humble, the meek, +the patient Griselda. In a more popular form it becomes the tale of +_Blue-Beard_, a tale which seems to me quite earnest and historical. +The wife so often killed and replaced by him could only have been his +vassal. He would have reckoned wholly otherwise with the daughter or +sister of a baron, who might avenge her. If I am not misled by a +specious conjecture, we must believe that this tale is of the +fourteenth century, and not of those preceding, in which the lord +would never have deigned to take a wife below himself. + +Specially remarkable in the moving tale of _Griselda_ is the fact, +that throughout her heavy trials, she never seeks support in being +devout or in loving another. She is evidently faithful, chaste, and +pure. It never comes into her mind to love elsewhere. + +Of the two feudal women, the Heiress and Griselda, it is peculiarly +the first who has her household of gentlemen, her courts of love, who +shows favour to the humblest lovers, encouraging them, delivering, as +Eleanor did, the famous sentence, soon to become quite classical: +"There can be no love between married folk." + +Thereupon a secret hope, but hot and violent withal, arises in more +than one young heart. If he must give himself to the Devil, he will +rush full tilt on this adventurous intrigue. Let the castle be never +so surely closed, one fine opening is still left for Satan. In a game +so perilous, what chance of success reveals itself? Wisdom answers, +None. But what if Satan said, Yes? + +We must remember how great a distance feudal pride set between the +nobles themselves. Words are misleading: one _cavalier_ might be far +below another. + +The knight banneret, who brought a whole army of vassals to his king's +side, would look with utter scorn from one end of his long table on +the poor _lackland_ knights seated at the other. How much greater his +scorn for the simple varlets, grooms, pages, &c., fed upon his +leavings! Seated at the lowermost end of the tables close to the door, +they scraped the dishes sent down to them, often empty, from the +personages seated above beside the hearth. It never would cross the +great lord's mind, that those below would dare to lift eyes of fancy +towards their lovely mistress, the haughty heiress of a fief, sitting +near her mother, "crowned by a chaplet of white roses." Whilst he bore +with wondrous patience the love of some stranger knight, appointed by +his lady to bear her colours, he would have savagely punished the +boldness of any servant who looked so high. Of this kind was the +raging jealousy shown by the Lord of Fayel, who was stirred to deadly +wrath, not because his wife had a lover, but because that lover was +one of his household, the castellan or simple constable of his castle +of Coucy. + +The deeper and less passable seemed the gulf between the great +heiress, lady of the manor, and the groom or page who, barring his +shirt, had nothing, not even his coat, but what belonged to his +master, the stronger became love's temptation to overleap that gulf. + +The youth was buoyed up by the very impossibility. At length, one day +that he managed to get out of the tower, he ran off to the Witch and +asked her advice. Would a philtre serve as a spell to win her? Or, +failing that, must he make an express covenant? He never shrank at all +from the dreadful idea of yielding himself to Satan. "We will take +care for that, young man: but hie thee up again; you will find some +change already." + + * * * * * + +The change, however, is in himself. He is stirred by some ineffable +hope, that escapes in spite of him from a deep downcast eye, scored by +an ever-darting flame. Somebody, we may guess who, having eyes for him +alone, is moved to throw him, as she passes, a word of pity. Oh, +rapture! Kind Satan! Charming, adorable Witch! + +He cannot eat nor drink until he has been to see the latter again. +Respectfully kissing her hand, he almost falls at her feet. Whatever +she may ask him, whatever she may bid him do, he will obey her. That +moment, if she wishes it, he will give her his golden chain, will give +her the ring upon his finger, though he had it from a dying mother. +But the Witch, in her native malice, in her hatred of the Baron, feels +an especial comfort in dealing him a secret blow. + +Already a vague anxiety disturbs the castle. A dumb tempest, without +lightning or thunder, broods over it, like an electric vapour on a +marsh. All is silence, deep silence; but the lady is troubled. She +suspects that some supernatural power has been at work. For why indeed +be thus drawn to this youth, more than to some one else, handsomer, +nobler, renowned already for deeds of arms? There is something toward, +down yonder! Has that woman cast a spell upon her, or worked some +hidden charm? The more she asks herself these questions, the more her +heart is troubled. + + * * * * * + +The Witch has something to wreak her malice upon at last. In the +village she was a queen; but now the castle comes to her, yields +itself up to her on that side where its pride ran the greatest risk. +For us this passion has a peculiar interest, as the rush of one soul +towards its ideal against every social harrier, against the unjust +decree of fate. To the Witch, on her side, it holds out the deep, keen +delight of humbling the lady's pride, and revenging perhaps her own +wrongs; the delight of serving the lord as he served his vassals, of +levying upon him, through the boldness of a mere child, the +firstfruits of his outrageous wedding-rights. Undoubtedly, in these +intrigues where the Witch had to play her part, she often acted from a +depth of levelling hatred natural to a peasant. + +Already it was something gained to have made the lady stoop to love a +menial. We should not be misled by such examples as John of Saintre +and Cherubin. The serving-boy filled the lowest offices in the +household. The footman proper did not then exist, while on the other +hand, few, if any maidservants lived in military strongholds. Young +hands did everything, and were not disgraced thereby. The service, +specially the body-service of the lord and lady, honoured and raised +them up. Nevertheless, it often placed the highborn page in situations +sorrowful enough, prosaic, not to say ridiculous. The lord never +distresses himself about that. And the lady must indeed be charmed by +the Devil, not to see what every day she saw, her well-beloved +employed in servile and unsuitable tasks. + + * * * * * + +In the Middle Ages the very high and the very low are continually +brought together. That which is hidden by the poems, we can catch a +glimpse of otherwhere. With those ethereal passions, many gross things +were clearly blended. + +All we know of the charms and philtres used by the witches is very +fantastic, not seldom marked by malice, and recklessly mixed up with +things that seem to us the least likely to have awakened love. By +these methods they went a long way without the husband's perceiving in +his blindness the game they made of him. + +These philtres were of various kinds. Some were for exciting and +troubling the senses, like the stimulants so much abused in the East. +Others were dangerous, and often treacherous draughts to whose +illusions the body would yield itself without the will. Others again +were employed as tests when the passion was defied, when one wished to +see how far the greediness of desire might derange the senses, making +them receive as the highest and holiest of favours, the most +disagreeable services done by the object of their love. + +The rude way in which a castle was constructed, with nothing in it but +large halls, led to an utter sacrifice of the inner life. It was long +enough before they took to building in one of the turrets a closet or +recess for meditation and the saying of prayers. The lady was easily +watched. On certain days set or waited for, the bold youth would +attempt the stroke, recommended him by the Witch, of mingling a +philtre with her drink. + +This, however, was a dangerous matter, not often tried. Less difficult +was it to purloin from the lady things which escaped her notice, which +she herself despised. He would treasure up the very smallest paring of +a nail; he would gather up respectfully one or two beautiful hairs +that might fall from her comb. These he would carry to the Witch, who +often asked, as our modern sleep-wakers do, for something very +personal and strongly redolent of the person, but obtained without her +leave; as, for instance, some threads torn out of a garment long worn +and soiled with the traces of perspiration. With much kissing, of +course, and worshipping, the lover was fain reluctantly to throw these +treasures into the fire, with a view to gathering up the ashes +afterwards. By and by, when she came to look at her garment, the fine +lady would remark the rent, but guessing at the cause, would only sigh +and hold her tongue. The charm had already begun to work. + + * * * * * + +Even if she hesitated from regard for her marriage-vow, certain it is +that life in a space so narrow, where they were always in each +other's sight, so near and yet so far, became a downright torment. And +even when she had once shown her weakness, still before her husband +and others equally jealous the moments of happiness would assuredly be +rare. Hence sprang many a foolish outbreak of unsatisfied desire. The +less they came together, the more deeply they longed to do so. A +disordered fancy sought to attain that end by means grotesque, +unnatural, utterly senseless. So by way of establishing a means of +secret correspondence between the two, the Witch had the letters of +the alphabet pricked on both their arms. If one of them wanted to send +a thought to the other, he brightened and brought out by sucking the +blood-red letters of the wished-for word. Immediately, so it is said, +the corresponding letters bled on the other's arm. + +Sometimes in these mad fits they would drink each of the other's +blood, so as to mingle their souls, it was said, in close communion. +The devouring of Coucy's heart, which the lady "found so good that she +never ate again," is the most tragical instance of these monstrous +vows of loving cannibalism. But when the absent one did not die, but +only the love within him, then the lady would seek counsel of the +Witch, begging of her the means of holding him, of bringing him back. + +The incantations used by the sorceress of Theocritus and Virgil, +though employed also in the Middle Ages, were seldom of much avail. An +attempt was made to win back the lover by a spell seemingly copied +from antiquity, by means of a cake, of a _confarreatio_[49] like that +which, both in Asia and Europe, had always been the holiest pledge of +love. But in this case it is not the soul only, it is the flesh also +they seek to bind; there must be so true an identity established +between the two, that, dead to all other women, he shall live only for +her. It was a cruel ceremony on the woman's side. "No haggling, +madam," says the Witch. Suddenly the proud dame grows obedient, even +to letting herself be stripped bare: for thus indeed it must be. + + [49] One form of wedding among the Romans, in which the + bride-cake was broken between the pair, in token of their + union.--TRANS. + +What a triumph for the Witch! And if this lady were the same as she +who had once made her "run the gauntlet," how meet the vengeance, how +dread the requital now! But it is not enough to have stripped her thus +naked. About her loins is fastened a little shelf, on which a small +oven is set for the cooking of the cake. "Oh, my dear, I cannot bear +it longer! Make haste, and relieve me." + +"You must bear it, madam; you must feel the heat. When the cake is +done, he will be warmed by you, by your flame." + +It is over; and now we have the cake of antiquity, of the Indian and +the Roman marriage, but spiced and warmed up by the lecherous spirit +of the Devil. She does not say with Virgil's wizard,[50] + + "Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnin!" + + [50] "Hither, ye spells of mine, bring Daphnis home from the + city!"--_Virgil_, Eclogue viii. + +But she takes him the cake, steeped, as it were, in the other's +suffering, and kept warm by her love. He has hardly bitten it when he +is overtaken by an odd emotion, by a feeling of dizziness. Then as the +blood rushes up to his heart he turns red and hot. Passion fastens +anew on him, and inextinguishable desire.[51] + + [51] I am wrong in saying inextinguishable. Fresh philtres + were often needed; and the blame of this must lie with the + lady, from whom the Witch in her mocking, malignant rage + exacted the most humiliating observances. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE REBELS' COMMUNION--SABBATHS--THE BLACK MASS. + + +We must now speak of the _Sabbaths_; a word which at different times +clearly meant quite different things. Unhappily, we have no detailed +accounts of these gatherings earlier than the reign of Henry IV.[52] +By that time they were nothing more than a great lewd farce carried on +under the cloak of witchcraft. But these very descriptions of a thing +so greatly corrupted are marked by certain antique touches that tell +of the successive periods and the different forms through which it had +passed. + + [52] The least bad of these is by Lancre, a man of some wit, + whose evident connection with some young witches gave him + something to say. The accounts of the Jesuit Del Rio and the + Dominican Michaelis are the absurd productions of two + credulous and silly pedants. + + * * * * * + +We may set out with this firm idea that, for many centuries, the serf +led the life of a wolf or a fox; that he was _an animal of the night_, +moving about, I may say, as little as possible in the daytime, and +truly living in the night alone. + +Still, up to the year 1000, so long as the people made their own +saints and legends, their daily life was not to them uninteresting. +Their nightly Sabbaths were only a slight relic of paganism. They +held in fear and honour the Moon, so powerful over the good things of +earth. Her chief worshippers, the old women, burn small candles to +_Dianom_--the Diana of yore, whose other names were Luna and Hecate. +The Lupercal (or wolf-man) is always following the women and children, +disguised indeed under the dark face of ghost Hallequin (Harlequin). +The Vigil of Venus was kept as a holiday precisely on the first of +May. On Midsummer Day they kept the Sabaza by sacrificing the he-goat +of Bacchus Sabasius. In all this there was no mockery; nothing but a +harmless carnival of serfs. + +But about the year 1000 the church is well-nigh shut against the +peasant through the difference between his language and hers. By 1100 +her services became quite unintelligible. Of the mysteries played at +the church-doors, he has retained chiefly the comic side, the ox and +the ass, &c. On these he makes Christmas carols, which grow ever more +and more burlesque, forming a true Sabbatic literature. + + * * * * * + +Are we to suppose that the great and fearful risings of the twelfth +century had no influence on these mysteries, on this night-life of the +_wolf_, the _game bird_, the _wild quarry_. The great sacraments of +rebellion among the serfs, when they drank of each other's blood, or +ate of the ground by way of solemn pledge,[53] may have been +celebrated at the Sabbaths. The "Marseillaise" of that time, sung by +night rather than day, was perhaps a Sabbatic chant:-- + + "Nous sommes hommes commes ils sont! + Tout aussi grand coeur nous avons! + Tout autant souffrir nous pouvons!"[54] + + [53] At the battle of Courtray. See also Grimm and my + _Origines_. + + [54] + + "We are fashioned of one clay: + Big as theirs our hearts are aye: + We can bear as much as they."--TRANS. + +But the tombstone falls again in 1200. Seated thereon the Pope and the +King, with their enormous weight, have sealed up man. Has he now his +old life by night? More than ever. The old pagan dances must by this +time have waxed furious. Our negroes of the Antilles, after a dreadful +day of heat and hard work, would go and dance away some four leagues +off. So it was with the serf too. But with his dances there must have +mingled a merriment born of revenge, satiric farces, burlesques and +caricatures of the baron and the priest: a whole literature of the +night indeed, that knew not one word of the literature of the day, +that knew little even of the burgher Fabliaux. + + * * * * * + +Of such a nature were the Sabbaths before 1300. Before they could take +the startling form of open warfare against the God of those days, much +more was needed still, and especially these two things: not only a +descending into the very depths of despair, but also _an utter losing +of respect for anything_. + +To this pass they do not come until the fourteenth century, under the +Avignon popes, and during the Great Schism; when the Church with two +heads seems no longer a church; when the king and all his nobles, +being in shameful captivity to the English, are extorting the means of +ransom from their oppressed and outraged people. Then do the Sabbaths +take the grand and horrible form of the _Black Mass_, of a ritual +upside down, in which Jesus is defied and bidden to thunder on the +people if He can. In the thirteenth century this devilish drama was +still impossible, through the horror it would have caused. And later +again, in the fifteenth, when everything, even suffering itself, had +become exhausted, so fierce an outburst could not have issued forth; +so monstrous an invention no one would have essayed. It could only +have belonged to the age of Dante. + + * * * * * + +It took place, I fancy, at one gush; an explosion as it were of genius +raving, bringing impiety up to the height of a great popular +passion-fit. To understand the nature of these bursts of rage, we must +remember that, far from imagining the fixedness of God's laws, a +people brought up by their own clergy to believe and depend on +miracles, had for ages past been hoping and waiting for nothing else +than a miracle which never came. In vain they demanded one in the +desperate hour of their last worst strait. Heaven thenceforth appeared +to them as the ally of their savage tormentors, nay, as itself a +tormentor too. + +Thereon began the _Black Mass_ and the _Jacquerie_.[55] + + [55] The Peasants' war which raged in France in 1364. + +In the elastic shell of the Black Mass, a thousand variations of +detail may afterwards have been inserted; but the shell itself was +strongly made and, in my opinion, all of one piece. + +This drama I succeeded in reproducing in my "History of France," in +the year 1857. There was small difficulty in casting it anew in its +four acts. Only at that time I left in it too many of the grotesque +adornments which clothed the Sabbath of a later period; nor did I +clearly enough define what belonged to the older shell, so dark and +dreadful. + + * * * * * + +Its date is strongly marked by certain savage tokens of an age +accursed, and yet more by the ruling place therein assigned to woman, +a fact most characteristic of the fourteenth century. + +It is strange to mark how, at that period, the woman who enjoys so +little freedom still holds her royal sway in a hundred violent +fashions. At this time she inherits fiefs, brings her kingdoms to the +king. On the lower levels she has still her throne, and yet more in +the skies. Mary has supplanted Jesus. St. Francis and St. Dominic have +seen the three worlds in her bosom. By the immensity of her grace she +washes away sin; ay, and sometimes helps the sinner,--as in the story +of a nun whose place the Virgin took in the choir, while she herself +was gone to meet her lover. + +Up high, and down very low, we see the woman. Beatrice reigns in +heaven among the stars, while John of Meung in the _Romaunt of the +Rose_ is preaching the community of women. Pure or sullied, the woman +is everywhere. We might say of her what Raymond Lulle said of God: +"What part has He in the world? The whole." + +But alike in heaven and in poetry the true heroine is not the fruitful +mother decked out with children; but the Virgin, or some barren +Beatrice, who dies young. + +A fair English damsel passed over into France, it is said, about the +year 1300, to preach the redemption of women. She looked on herself as +their Messiah. + + * * * * * + +In its earliest phase the Black Mass seemed to betoken this redemption +of Eve, so long accursed of Christianity. The woman fills every office +in the Sabbath. She is priestess, altar, pledge of holy communion, by +turns. Nay, at bottom, is she not herself as God? + + * * * * * + +Many popular traits may be found herein, and yet it comes not wholly +from the people. The peasant who honoured strength alone, made small +account of the woman; as we see but too clearly in our old laws and +customs. From him the woman would not have received the high place she +holds here. It is by her own self the place is won. + +I would gladly believe that the Sabbath in its then shape was woman's +work, the work of such a desperate woman as the Witch was then. In the +fourteenth century she saw open before her a horrible career of +torments lighted up for three or four hundred years by the stake. +After 1300 her medical knowledge is condemned as baleful, her remedies +are proscribed as if they were poisons. The harmless drawing of lots, +by which lepers then thought to better their luck, brought on a +massacre of those poor wretches. Pope John XXII. ordered the burning +of a bishop suspected of Witchcraft. Under a system of such blind +repression there was just the same risk in daring little as in daring +much. Danger itself made people bolder; and the Witch was able to dare +anything. + + * * * * * + +Human brotherhood, defiance of the Christian heaven, a distorted +worship of nature herself as God--such was the purport of the Black +Mass. + +They decked an altar to the arch-rebel of serfs, _to Him who had been +so wronged_, the old outlaw, unfairly hunted out of heaven, "the +Spirit by whom earth was made, the Master who ordained the budding of +the plants." Such were the names of honour given him by his +worshippers, the _Luciferians_, and also, according to a very likely +opinion, by the Knights of the Temple. + +The greatest miracle of those unhappy times is, the greater abundance +found at the nightly communion of the brotherhood, than was to be +found elsewhere by day. By incurring some little danger the Witch +levied her contributions from those who were best off, and gathered +their offerings into a common fund. Charity in a Satanic garb grew +very powerful, as being a crime, a conspiracy, a form of rebellion. +People would rob themselves of their food by day for the sake of the +common meal at night. + + * * * * * + +Figure to yourself, on a broad moor, and often near an old Celtic +cromlech, at the edge of a wood, this twofold scene: on one side a +well-lit moor and a great feast of the people; on the other, towards +yon wood, the choir of that church whose dome is heaven. What I call +the choir is a hill commanding somewhat the surrounding country. +Between these are the yellow flames of torch-fires, and some red +brasiers emitting a fantastic smoke. At the back of all is the Witch, +dressing up her Satan, a great wooden devil, black and shaggy. By his +horns, and the goatskin near him, he might be Bacchus; but his manly +attributes make him a Pan or a Priapus. It is a darksome figure, seen +differently by different eyes; to some suggesting only terror, while +others are touched by the proud melancholy wherein the Eternally +Banished seems absorbed.[56] + + [56] This is taken from Del Rio, but is not, I think, + peculiar to Spain. It is an ancient trait, and marked by the + primitive inspiration. + + * * * * * + +Act First. The magnificent _In troit_ taken by Christendom from +antiquity, that is, from those ceremonies where the people in long +train streamed under the colonnades on their way to the sanctuary, is +now taken back for himself by the elder god upon his return to power. +The _Lavabo_, likewise borrowed from the heathen lustrations, +reappears now. All this he claims back by right of age. + +His priestess is always called, by way of honour, the Elder; but she +would sometimes have been young. Lancre tells of a witch of seventeen, +pretty, and horribly savage. + +The Devil's bride was not to be a child: she must be at least thirty +years old, with the form of a Medea, with the beauty that comes of +pain; an eye deep, tragic, lit up by a feverish fire, with great +serpent tresses waving at their will: I refer to the torrent of her +black untamable hair. On her head, perhaps, you may see the crown of +vervein, the ivy of the tomb, the violets of death. + +When she has had the children taken off to their meal, the service +begins: "I will come before thine altar; but save me, O Lord, from the +faithless and violent man (from the priest and the baron)." + +Then come the denial of Jesus, the paying of homage to the new master, +the feudal kiss, like the greetings of the Temple, when all was +yielded without reserve, without shame, or dignity, or even purpose; +the denial of an olden god being grossly aggravated by a seeming +preference for Satan's back. + +It is now his turn to consecrate his priestess. The wooden deity +receives her in the manner of an olden Pan or Priapus. Following the +old pagan form she sits a moment upon him in token of surrender, like +the Delphian seeress on Apollo's tripod. After receiving the breath of +his spirit, the sacrament of his love, she purifies herself with like +formal solemnity. Thenceforth she is a living altar. + + * * * * * + +The Introit over, the service is interrupted for the feast. Contrary +to the festive fashion of the nobles, who all sit with their swords +beside them, here, in this feast of brethren, are no arms, not even a +knife. + +As a keeper of the peace, each has a woman with him. Without a woman +no one is admitted. Be she a kinswoman or none, a wife or none; be she +old or young, a woman he must bring with him. + +What were the drinks passed round among them? Mead, or beer, or wine; +strong cider or perry? The last two date from the twelfth century. + +The illusive drinks, with their dangerous admixture of belladonna, did +they already appear at that board? Certainly not. There were children +there. Besides, an excess of commotion would have prevented the +dancing. + +This whirling dance, the famous _Sabbath-round_, was quite enough to +complete the first stage of drunkenness. They turned back to back, +their arms behind them, not seeing each other, but often touching each +other's back. Gradually no one knew himself, nor whom he had by his +side. The old wife then was old no more. Satan had wrought a miracle. +She was still a woman, desirable, after a confused fashion beloved. + + * * * * * + +Act Second. Just as the crowd, grown dizzy together, was led, both by +the attraction of the women and by a certain vague feeling of +brotherhood, to imagine itself one body, the service was resumed at +the _Gloria_. The altar, the host, became visible. These were +represented by the woman herself. Prostrate, in a posture of extreme +abasement, her long black silky tresses lost in the dust; she, this +haughty Proserpine, offered up herself. On her back a demon +officiated, saying the _Credo_, and making the offering.[57] + + [57] This important fact of the woman being her own altar, is + known to us by the trial of La Voisin, which M. Ravaisson, + Sen., is about to publish with the other _Papers of the + Bastille_. + +At a later period this scene came to be immodest. But at this time, +amidst the calamities of the fourteenth century, in the terrible days +of the Black Plague, and of so many a famine, in the days of the +Jacquerie and those hateful brigands, the Free Lances,--on a people +thus surrounded by danger, the effect was more than serious. The whole +assembly had much cause to fear a surprise. The risk run by the Witch +in this bold proceeding was very great, even tantamount to the +forfeiting of her life. Nay, more; she braved a hell of suffering, of +torments such as may hardly be described. Torn by pincers, and broken +alive; her breasts torn out; her skin slowly singed, as in the case +of the wizard bishop of Cahors; her body burned limb by limb on a +small fire of red-hot coal, she was like to endure an eternity of +agony. + +Certainly all were moved when the prayer was spoken, the +harvest-offering made, upon this devoted creature who gave herself up +so humbly. Some wheat was offered to the _Spirit of the Earth_, who +made wheat to grow. A flight of birds, most likely from the woman's +bosom, bore to the _God of Freedom_ the sighs and prayers of the +serfs. What did they ask? Only that we, their distant descendants, +might become free.[58] + + [58] This grateful offering of wheat and birds is peculiar to + France. In Lorraine, and no doubt in Germany, black beasts + were offered, as the black cat, the black goat, or the black + bull. + +What was the sacrament she divided among them? Not the ridiculous +pledge we find later in the reign of Henry IV., but most likely that +_confarreatio_ which we saw in the case of the philtres, the hallowed +pledge of love, a cake baked on her own body, on the victim who, +perhaps, to-morrow would herself be passing through the fire. It was +her life, her death, they ate there. One sniffs already the scorching +flesh. + +Last of all they set upon her two offerings, seemingly of flesh; two +images, one of _the latest dead_, the other of the newest-born in the +district. These shared in the special virtue assigned to her who acted +as altar and Host in one, and on these the assembly made a show of +receiving the communion. Their Host would thus be threefold, and +always human. Under a shadowy likeness of the Devil the people +worshipped none other than its own self. + +The true sacrifice was now over and done. The woman's work was ended, +when she gave herself up to be eaten by the multitude. Rising from her +former posture, she would not withdraw from the spot until she had +proudly stated, and, as it were, confirmed the lawfulness of her +proceedings by an appeal to the thunderbolt, by an insolent defiance +of the discrowned God. + +In mockery of the _Agnus Dei_, and the breaking of the Christian Host, +she brought a toad dressed up, and pulled it to pieces. Then rolling +her eyes about in a frightful way she raised them to heaven, and +beheading the toad, uttered these strange words: "Ah, _Philip_,[59] if +I had you here, you should be served in the same manner!" + + [59] Lancre, 136. Why "Philip," I cannot say. By Satan Jesus + is always called John or _Janicot_ (Jack). Was she speaking + of Philip of Valois, who brought on the wasting hundred + years' war with England? + + * * * * * + +No answer being outwardly given to her challenge, no thunderbolt +hurled upon her head, they imagine that she has triumphed over the +Christ. The nimble band of demons seized their moment to astonish the +people with various small wonders which amazed and overawed the more +credulous. The toads, quite harmless in fact, but then accounted +poisonous, were bitten and torn between their dainty teeth. They +jumped over large fires and pans of live coal, to amuse the crowd and +make them laugh at the fires of Hell. + +Did the people really laugh after a scene so tragical, so very bold? I +know not. Assuredly there was no laughing on the part of her who first +dared all this. To her these fires must have seemed like those of the +nearest stake. Her business rather lay in forecasting the future of +that devilish monarchy, in creating the Witch to be. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE SEQUEL--LOVE AND DEATH--SATAN DISAPPEARS. + + +And now the multitude is made free, is of good cheer. For some hours +the serf reigns in short-lived freedom. His time indeed is scant +enough. Already the sky is changing, the stars are going down. Another +moment, and the cruel dawn remits him to his slavery, brings him back +again under hostile eyes, under the shadow of the castle, beneath the +shadow of the church; back again to his monotonous toiling, to the old +unending weariness of heart, governed as it were by two bells, whereof +one keeps saying "Always," the other "Never." Anon they will be seen +coming each out of his own house, heavily, humbly, with an air of calm +composure. + +Let them at least enjoy the one short moment! Let each of these +disinherited, for once fulfil his fancy, for once indulge his musings. +What soul is there so all unhappy, so lost to all feeling, as never to +have one good dream, one fond desire; never to say, "If this would +only happen!" + +The only detailed accounts we have, as I said before, are modern, +belonging to a time of peace and well-doing, when France was blooming +afresh, in the latter years of Henry VI., years of thriving luxury, +entirely different from that dark age when the Sabbath was first set +going. + +No thanks to Mr. Lancre and others, if we refrain from pourtraying the +Third Act as like the Church-Fair of Rubens, a very miscellaneous +orgie, a great burlesque ball, which allowed of every kind of union, +especially between near kindred. According to those authors, who would +make us groan with horror, the main end of the Sabbath, the explicit +doctrine taught by Satan, was incest; and in those great gatherings, +sometimes of two thousand souls, the most startling deeds were done +before the whole world. + +This is hard to believe; and the same writers tell of other things +which seem quite opposed to a view so cynical. They say that people +went to those meetings only in pairs, that they sat down to the feast +by twos, that even if one person came alone, she was assigned a young +demon, who took charge of her, and did the honours of the feast. They +say, too, that jealous lovers were not afraid to go thither in company +with the curious fair. + +We also find that the most of them came by families, children and all. +The latter were sent off only during the first act, not during the +feast, nor the services, nor yet while this third act was going on; a +fact which proves that some decency was observed. Moreover, the scene +was twofold. The household groups stayed on the moor in a blaze of +light. It was only beyond the fantastic curtain of torch-smoke that +the darker spaces, where people could roam in all directions, began. + +The judges, the inquisitors, for all their enmity, are fain to allow +the existence here of a general spirit of peace and mildness. Of the +three things that startle us in the feasts of nobles, there is not one +here; no swords, no duels, no tables reeking blood. No faithless +gallantries here bring dishonour on some intimate friend. Unknown, +unneeded here, for all they say, is the unclean brotherhood of the +Temple; in the Sabbath, woman is everything. + +The question of incest needs explaining. All alliances between +kinsfolk, even those most allowable in the present day, were then +regarded as a crime. The modern law, which is charity itself, +understands the heart of man and the well-being of families.[60] It +allows the widower to marry his wife's sister, the best mother his +children could have. Above all, it allows a man to wed his cousin, +whom he knows and may trust fully, whom he has loved perhaps from +childhood, his playfellow of old, regarded by his mother with special +favour as already the adopted of her own heart. In the Middle Ages all +this was incestuous. + + [60] Of course the allusion here, as shown in the next + following sentence, is to French law in particular. As for + the marriage of cousins, there is much to say on both sides + of the question.--TRANS. + +The peasant being fondest of his own family was driven to despair. It +was a monstrous thing for him to marry a cousin, even in the sixth +degree. It was impossible for him to get married in his own village +where the question of kinship stood so much in his way. He had to look +for a wife elsewhere, afar off. But in those days there was not much +intercourse or acquaintance between different places, and each hated +its own neighbours. On feast days one village would fight another +without knowing the reason why, as may sometimes still be seen in +countries never so thinly peopled. No one durst go seek a wife in the +very spot where men had been fighting together, where he himself would +have been in great danger. + +There was another difficulty. The lord of the young serf forbade his +marrying in the next lordship. Becoming the serf of his wife's lord he +would have been wholly lost to his own. Thus he was debarred by the +priest from his cousin, by the lord from a stranger; and so it +happened that many did not marry at all. + +The result was just what they pretended to avoid. In the Sabbath the +natural sympathies sprang forth again. There the youth found again her +whom he had known and loved at first, her whose "little husband" he +had been called at ten years old. Preferring her as he certainly did, +he paid but little heed to canonical hindrances. + +When we come to know the Mediaeval Family better, we give up believing +the declamatory assumptions of a general mingling together of the +people forming so great a crowd. On the contrary, we feel that each +small group is so closely joined together, as to be utterly barred to +the entrance of a stranger. + +The serf was not jealous towards his own kin, but his poverty and +wretchedness made him exceedingly afraid of worsening his lot by +multiplying children whom he could not support. The priest and the +lord on their part wished to increase the number of their +serfs--wanted the woman to be always bearing; and the strangest +sermons were often delivered on this head,[61] varied sometimes with +threats and cruel reproaches. All the more resolute was the prudence +of the man. The woman, poor creature, unable to bear children fit to +live on such conditions, bearing them only to her sorrow, had a horror +of being made big. She never would have ventured to one of these night +festivals without being first assured, again and again, that no woman +ever came away pregnant.[62] + + [61] The ingenious M. Genin has very recently collected the + most curious information on this point. + + [62] Boguet, Lancre, and other authors, are agreed on this + question. + +They were drawn thither by the banquet, the dancing, the lights, the +amusements; in nowise by carnal pleasure. The last thing they cared +for was to heighten their poverty, to bring one more wretch into the +world, to give another serf to their lord. + + * * * * * + +Cruel indeed was the social system of those days. Authority bade men +marry, but rendered marriage nearly impossible, at once by the +excessive misery of most, and the senseless cruelty of the canonical +prohibitions. + +The result was quite opposed to the purity thus preached. Under a show +of Christianity existed the patriarchate of Asia alone. + +Only the firstborn married. The younger brothers and sisters worked +under him and for him. In the lonely farms of the mountains of the +South, far from all neighbours and every woman, brothers and sisters +lived together, the latter serving and in all ways belonging to the +former; a way of life analogous to that in Genesis, to the marriages +of the Parsees, to the customs still obtaining in certain shepherd +tribes of the Himalayas. + +The mother's fate was still more revolting. She could not marry her +son to a kinswoman, and thus secure to herself a kindly-affected +daughter-in-law. Her son married, if he could, a girl from a distant +village, an enemy often, whose entrance proved baneful either to the +children of a former marriage, or to the poor mother, who was often +driven away by the stranger wife. You may not think it, but the fact +is certainly so. At the very least she was ill-used; banished from the +fireside, from the very table. + +There is a Swiss law forbidding the removal of the mother from her +place by the chimney-corner. + +She was exceedingly afraid of her son's marrying. But her lot was +little happier if he did not marry. None the less servant was she of +the young master of the house, who succeeded to all his father's +rights, even to that of beating her. This impious custom I have seen +still followed in the South: a son of five-and-twenty chastising his +mother when she got drunk. + + * * * * * + +How much greater her suffering in those days of savagery! Then it was +rather he who came back from the feast half-drunken, hardly knowing +what he was about. But one room, but one bed, was all they had between +them. She was by no means free from fear. He had seen his friends +married, and felt soured thereat. Thenceforth her way is marked by +tears, by utter weakness, by a woful self-surrender. Threatened by her +only God, her son, heart-broken at finding herself in a plight so +unnatural, she falls desperate. She tries to drown all her memories in +sleep. At length comes an issue for which neither of them can fairly +account, an issue such as nowadays will often happen in the poorer +quarters of large towns, where some poor woman is forced, frightened, +perhaps beaten, into bearing every outrage. Thus conquered, and, spite +of her scruples, far too resigned, she endured thenceforth a pitiable +bondage; a life of shame and sorrow, and abundant anguish, growing +with the yearly widening difference between their several ages. The +woman of six-and-thirty might keep watch over a son of twenty years: +but at fifty, alas! or still later, where would he be? From the great +Sabbath where thronged the people of far villages, he would be +bringing home a strange woman for his youthful mistress, a woman hard, +heartless, devoid of ruth, who would rob her of her son, her seat by +the fire, her bed, of the very house which she herself had made. + +To believe Lancre and others, Satan accounted the son for +praiseworthy, if he kept faithful to his mother, thus making a virtue +of a crime. If this be true, we must assume that the woman was +protected by a woman, that the Witch sided with the mother, to defend +her hearth against a daughter-in-law who, stick in hand, would have +sent her forth to beg. + +Lancre further maintains that "never was good Witch, but she sprang +from the love of a mother for her son." In this way, indeed, was born +the Persian soothsayer, the natural fruit, they say, of so hateful a +mystery; and thus the secrets of the magical art were kept confined to +one family which constantly renewed itself. + +An impious error led them to imitate the harmless mystery of the +husbandman, the unceasing vegetable round whereby the corn resown in +the furrow, brings forth its corn. + +The less monstrous unions of brother with sister, so common in the +East, and in Greece, were cold and rarely fruitful. They were wisely +abandoned; nor would people ever have returned to them, but for that +rebellious spirit which, being aroused by absurd restrictions, flung +itself foolishly into the opposite extreme. Thus from unnatural laws, +hatred begot unnatural customs. + +A cruel, an accursed time, a time big with despair! + + * * * * * + +We have been long discoursing; but the dawn is well-nigh come. In a +moment the hour will strike for the spirits to take themselves away. +The Witch feels her dismal flowers already withering on her brow. +Farewell, her royalty, perhaps her life! Where would they be, if the +day still found her there? + +Of Satan, what shall she make? A flame, a cinder? He asks for nothing +better; knowing well, in his craftiness, that the only way to live and +to be born again, is first to die. + +And will he die, he who as the mighty summoner of the dead, granted to +them that mourn their only joy on earth, the love they had lost, the +dream they had cherished? Ah, no! he is very sure to live. + +Will he die, he that mighty spirit who, finding Creation accurst, and +Nature lying cold upon the ground, flung thither like a dirty +foster-child from off the Church's garment, gathered her up and placed +her on his bosom? In truth it cannot be. + +Will he die, he the one great physician of the Middle Ages, of a +world that, falling sick, was saved by his poisons and bidden, poor +fool, to live? + +As the gay rogue is sure of living, he dies wholly at his ease. He +shuffles out of himself, cleverly burns up his fine goatskin, and +disappears in a blaze of dawn. + +But _she_ who made Satan, who made all things, good or ill, whose +countenance was given to so many forms of love, of devotion, and of +crime,--to what end will she come? Behold her all lonely on her waste +moorland. + +She is not, as they say, the dread of all. Many will bless her. More +than one have found her beautiful, would sell their share in Paradise +to dare be near her. But all around her is a wide gulf. They who +admire, are none the less afraid of this all-powerful Medea, with her +fair deep eyes, and the thrilling adders of her dark overflowing hair. + +To her thus lonely for ever, for evermore without love, what is there +left? Nothing but the Demon who had suddenly disappeared. + +"'Tis well, good Devil, let us go. I am utterly loath to stay here any +more. Hell itself is far preferable. Farewell to the world!" + +She must live but a very little longer, to play out the dreadful drama +she had herself begun. Near her, ready saddled by the obedient Satan, +stood a huge black horse, the fire darting from his eyes and nostrils. +She sprang upon him with one bound. + +They follow her with their eyes. The good folk say with alarm, "What +is to become of her?" With a frightful burst of laughter, she goes +off, vanishing swift as an arrow. They would like much to know what +becomes of the poor woman, but that they never will.[63] + + [63] See the end of the Witch of Berkeley, as told by William + of Malmesbury. + + + + +BOOK II. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE WITCH IN HER DECLINE--SATAN MULTIPLIED AND MADE COMMON. + + +The Devil's delicate fondling, the lesser Witch, begotten of the Black +Mass after the greater one's disappearance, came and bloomed in all +her malignant cat-like grace. This woman is quite the reverse of the +other: refined and sidelong in manner, sly and purring demurely, quick +also at setting up her back. There is nothing of the Titan about her, +to be sure. Far from that, she is naturally base; lewd from her cradle +and full of evil daintinesses. Her whole life is the expression of +those unclean thoughts which sometimes in a dream by night may assail +him who would shrink with horror from any such by day. + +She who is born with such a secret in her blood, with such instinctive +mastery of evil, she who has looked so far and so low down, will have +no religion, no respect for anything or person in the world; none even +for Satan, since he is a spirit still, while she has a particular +relish for all things material. + +In her childhood she spoiled everything. Tall and pretty she startled +all by her slovenly habits. With her Witchcraft becomes a mysterious +cooking up of some mysterious chemistry. From an early date she +delights to handle repulsive things, to-day a drug, to-morrow an +intrigue. Among diseases and love-affairs she is in her element. She +will make a clever go-between, a bold and skilful empiric. War will be +made against her as a fancied murderer, as a woman who deals in +poisons. And yet she has small taste for such things, is far from +murderous in her desires. Devoid of goodness, she yet loves life, +loves to work cures, to prolong others' lives. She is dangerous in two +ways: on the one hand by selling receipts for barrenness, and even for +abortion; while on the other, her headlong libertine fancy leads her +to compass a woman's fall with her cursed potions, to triumph in the +wicked deeds of love. + +Different, indeed, is this one from the other! She is a manufacturer: +the other was the ungodly one, the demon, the great rebellion, the +wife, we might almost say, the mother of Satan; for out of her and her +inward strength he grew up. But this one is the Devil's daughter +notwithstanding. Two things she derives from him, her uncleanness, her +love of handling life. These are her allotted walk, in these she is +quite an artist; an artist already trading in her lore, and we are +admitted into the business. + +It was said that she would perpetuate herself by the incest from which +she sprang. But she has no need of that: numberless little ones will +she beget without help from another. In less than fifty years, at the +opening of the fifteenth century, under Charles VI., a mighty +contagion was spread abroad. Whoever thought he had any secrets or any +receipts, whoever fancied himself a seer, whoever dreamed and +travelled in his dreams, would call himself a pet of Satan. Every +moonstruck woman adopted the awful name of Witch! + +A perilous, profitable name, cast at her in their hatred by people who +alternately insult and implore the unknown power. It is none the less +accepted, nay, is often claimed. To the children who follow her, to +the woman who, with threatening fists, hurl the name at her like a +stone, she turns round, saying proudly, "'Tis true, you have said +well!" + +The business improves, and men are mingled in it. Hence another fall +for the art. Still the least of the witches retains somewhat of the +Sibyl. Those other frowsy charlatans, those clownish jugglers, +mole-catchers, ratkillers, who throw spells over beasts, who sell +secrets which they have not, defiled these times with the stench of a +dismal black smoke, of fear and foolery. Satan grows enormous, gets +multiplied without end. 'Tis a poor triumph, however, for him. He +grows dull and sick at heart. Still the people keep flowing towards +him, bent on having no other God than he. Himself only is to himself +untrue. + + * * * * * + +In spite of two or three great discoveries, the fifteenth century is, +to my thinking, none the less a century tired out, a century of few +ideas. + +It opened right worthily with the Sabbath Royal of St. Denis, the wild +and woful ball given by Charles VI. in the abbey so named, to +commemorate the burial of Du Guesclin, which had taken place so many +years before. For three days and nights was Sodom wallowing among the +graves. The foolish king, not yet grown quite an idiot, compelled his +royal forefathers to share in the ball, by making their dry bones +dance in their biers. Death, becoming a go-between whether he would or +no, lent a sharp spur to the voluptuous revel. Then broke out those +unclean fashions of an age when ladies made themselves taller by +wearing the Devil's horned-bonnet, and gloried in dressing as if they +were all with child.[64] To this fashion they clung for the next forty +years. The younger folk on their side, not to be behind in +shamelessness, eclipsed them in the display of naked charms. The woman +wore Satan on her forehead in the shape of a horned head-dress: on the +feet of the bachelor and the page he was visible in the tapering +scorpion-like tips of their shoes. Under the mask of animals they +represented the lowest side of brute nature. The famous child stealer, +Retz, here took his first flight in villany. The great feudal ladies, +unbridled Jezebels, with less sense of shame in them than the men, +scorned all disguise whatever; displayed themselves with face +uncovered. In their sensual rages, in their mad parade of debauchery, +the king, the whole company might see the bottomless pit itself +yawning for the life, the feeling, the body, and the soul of each. + + [64] Even in a very mystic theme, in a work of such genius as + the _Lamb_ of Van Eyck (says John of Bruges), all the Virgins + seem big. It was only the quaint fashion of the fifteenth + century. + +Out of such doings come forth the conquered of Agincourt, a poor +generation of effete nobles, in whose miniatures you shiver to see the +falling away of their sorry limbs, as shown through the treacherous +tightness of their clothes.[65] + + [65] This wasting away of a used-up, enervated race, mars the + effect of all those splendid miniatures of the Court of + Burgundy, the Duke of Berry, &c. No amount of clever handling + could make good works of art out of subjects so very + pitiable. + + * * * * * + +Much to be pitied is the Witch who, when the great lady came home from +that royal feast, became her bosom-counsellor and agent charged with +the doing of impossible things. + +In her own castle, indeed, the lady is almost, if not all alone, +amidst a crowd of single men. To judge from romances you would think +she delighted in girding herself with an array of fair girls. Far +otherwise are we taught by history and common sense. Eleanor is not +so silly as to match herself against Rosamond. With all their own +rakishness, those queens and great ladies could be frightfully +jealous; witness she who is said by Henry Martin to have caused the +death of a girl admired by her husband, under the outrageous handling +of his soldiery. The power wielded by the lady's love depends, we +repeat, on her being alone. Whatever her age and figure, she becomes +the dream of all. The Witch takes mischievous delight in making her +abuse her goddesship, in tempting her to make game of the men she +humbles and befools. She goes to all lengths of boldness, even +treating them like very beasts. Look at them being transformed! Down +on all fours they tumble, like fawning monkeys, absurd bears, lewd +dogs, or swine eager to follow their contemptuous Circe. + +Her pity rises thereat? Nay, but she grows sick of it all, and kicks +those crawling beasts with her foot. The thing is impure, but not +heinous enough. An absurd remedy is found for her complaint. These +others being so nought, she is to have something yet more +nought--namely, a little sweetheart. The advice is worthy of the +Witch. Love's spark shall be lighted before its time in some young +innocent, sleeping the pure sleep of childhood! Here you have the ugly +tale of little John of Saintre, pink of cherubim, and other paltry +puppets of the Age of Decay. + +Through all those pedantic embellishments and sentimental +moralizings, one clearly marks the vile cruelty that lies below. The +fruit was killed in the flower. Here, in a manner, is the very "eating +of children," which was laid so often to the Witch's charge. Anyhow, +she drained their lives. The fair lady who caresses one in so tender +and motherly a way, what is she but a vampire, draining the blood of +the weak? The upshot of such atrocities we may gather from the tale +itself. Saintre becomes a perfect knight, but so utterly frail and +weak as to be dared and defied by the lout of a peasant priest, in +whom the lady, become better advised, has seen something that will +suit her best. + + * * * * * + +Such idle whimsies heighten the surfeit, the mad rage of an empty +mind. Circe among her beasts grows so weary and heartsick that she +would be a beast herself. She fancies herself wild, and locks herself +up. From her tower she casts an evil eye towards the gloomy forest. +She fancies herself a prisoner, and rages like a wolf chained fast. +"Let the old woman come this moment: I want her. Run!" Two minutes +later again: "What! is she not come yet?" + +At last she is come. "Hark you: I have a sore longing--invincible, as +you know--to choke you, to drown you, or to give you up to the bishop, +who already claims you. You have but one way of escape, that is, to +satisfy another longing of mine by changing me into a wolf. I feel +wretchedly bored, weary of keeping still. I want, by night at least, +to run free about the forest. Away with stupid servants, with dogs +that stun me with their noise, with clumsy horses that kick out and +shy at a thicket." + +"But if you were caught, my lady----" + +"Insolent woman! You would rather die, then?" + +"At least you have heard the story of the woman-wolf, whose paw was +cut off.[66] But, oh! how sorry I should be." + + [66] Among the great ladies imprisoned in their castles, this + dreadful fancy was not rare. They hungered and thirsted for + freedom, for savage freedom. Boguet mentions how, among the + hills of Auvergne, a hunter one night drew his sword upon a + she-wolf, but missing her, cut off her paw. She fled away + limping. He came to a neighbouring castle to seek the + hospitality of him who dwelt there. The gentleman, on seeing + him, asked if he had had good sport. By way of answer he + thought to draw out of his pouch the she-wolf's paw; but what + was his amazement to find instead of the paw a hand, and on + one of the fingers a ring, which the gentleman recognized as + belonging to his wife! Going at once in search of her, he + found her hurt and hiding her fore-arm. To the arm which had + lost its hand he fitted that which the hunter had brought + him, and the lady was fain to own that she it was, who in the + likeness of a wolf had attacked the hunter, and afterwards + saved herself by leaving a paw on the battle-field. The + husband had the cruelty to give her up to justice, and she + was burnt. + +"That is my concern. I will hear nothing more, I am in a hurry--have +been barking already. What happiness, to hunt all by myself in the +clear moonlight; by myself to fasten on the hind, or man likewise if +he comes near me; to attack the tender children, and, above all, to +set my teeth in the women; ay, the women, for I hate them all--not one +like yourself. Don't start, I won't bite you--you are not to my taste, +and besides, you have no blood in you! 'Tis blood I crave--blood!" + +She can no longer refuse. "Nothing easier, my lady. To-night, at nine +o'clock, you will drink this. Lock yourself up, and then turning into +a wolf, while they think you are still here, you can scour the +forest." + +It is done; and next morning the lady finds herself worn out and +depressed. In one night she must have travelled some thirty leagues. +She has been hunting and slaying until she is covered with blood. But +the blood, perhaps, comes from her having torn herself among the +brambles. + +A great triumph and danger also for her who has wrought this miracle. +From the lady, however, whose command provoked it, she receives but a +gloomy welcome. "Witch, 'tis a fearful power you have; I should never +have guessed it. But now I fear and dread you. Good cause, indeed, +they have to hate you. A happy day will it be when you are burnt. I +can ruin you when I please. One word of mine about last night, and my +peasants would this evening whet their scythes upon you. Out, you +black-looking, hateful old hag!" + + * * * * * + +The great folk, her patrons, launch her into strange adventures. For +what can she refuse to her terrible protectors, when nothing but the +castle saves her from the priest, from the faggot? If the baron, on +his return from a crusade, being bent on copying the manners of the +Turks, sends for her, and orders her to steal him a few children, what +can she do? Raids such as those grand ones in which two thousand pages +were sometimes carried off from Greek ground to enter the seraglio, +were by no means unknown to the Christians; were known from the tenth +century to the barons of England, at a later date to the knights of +Rhodes and Malta. The famous Giles of Retz, the only one brought to +trial, was punished, not for having stolen his small serfs, a crime +not then uncommon, but for having sacrificed them to Satan. She who +actually stole them, and was ignorant, doubtless, of their future lot, +found herself between two perils: on the one hand the peasant's fork +and scythe; on the other, those torments which awaited her, when +recusant, within the tower. Retz's terrible Italian would have made +nothing of pounding her in a mortar.[67] + + [67] See my _History of France_, and still more the learned + and careful account by the lamented Armand Gueraud: _Notice + sur Gilles de Rais_, Nantes, 1855. We there find that the + purveyors of that horrible child's charnel-house were mostly + men. + +On all sides the perils and the profits went together. A position more +frightfully corrupting could not have been found. The Witches +themselves did not deny the absurd powers imputed to them by the +people. They averred that by means of a doll stuck over with needles +they could weave their spells around whomever they pleased, making him +waste away until he died. They averred that mandragora, torn from +beneath the gallows by the teeth of a dog, who invariably died +therefrom, enabled them to pervert the understanding; to turn men into +beasts, to give women over to idiotcy and madness. Still more dreadful +was the furious frenzy caused by the Thorn-apple, or Datura, which +made men dance themselves to death, and go through a thousand shameful +antics, without their own knowledge or remembrance.[68] + + [68] Pouchet, on the _Solaneae and General Botany_. Nysten, + _Dictionary of Medicine_, article _Datura_. The robbers + employed these potions but too often. A butcher of Aix and + his wife, whom they wanted to rob of their money, were made + to drink of some such, and became so maddened thereby, that + they danced all one night naked in a cemetery. + + * * * * * + +Hence there grew up against them a feeling of boundless hatred, +mingled with as extreme a fear. Sprenger, who wrote the _Hammer for +Witches_, relates with horror how, in a season of snow, when all the +roads were broken up, he saw a wretched multitude, wild with terror, +and spell-bound by evils all too real, fill up all the approaches to a +little German town. "Never," says he, "did you behold so mighty a +pilgrimage to our Lady of Grace, or her of the wilderness. All these +people, who hobbled, crawled, and stumbled among the quagmires, were +on their way to the Witch, to beseech the grace of the Devil upon +themselves. How proud and excited must the old woman have felt at +seeing so large a concourse prostrate before her feet!"[69] + + [69] The Witch delighted in causing the noble and the great + to undergo the most outrageous trials of their love. We know + that queens and ladies of rank (in Italy even to the last + century) held their court at times the most forbidding, and + exacted the most unpleasant services from their favourites. + There was nothing too mean, too repulsive, for the domestic + brute--the _cicisbeo_, the priest, the half-witted page--to + undergo, in the stupid belief that the power of a philtre + increased with its nastiness. This was sad enough when the + ladies were neither young, nor beautiful, nor witty. But what + of that other astounding fact, that a Witch, who was neither + a great lady, nor young, nor fair, but poor, and perhaps a + serf, clad only in dirty rags, could still by her malice, by + the strange power of her raging lewdness, by some + bewitchingly treacherous spell, stupefy the gravest + personages, and abase them to so low a depth? Some monks of a + monastery on the Rhine, wherein, as in many other German + convents, none but a noble of four hundred years' standing + could gain admission, sorrowfully owned to Sprenger that they + had seen three of their brethren bewitched in turn, and a + fourth killed by a woman, who boldly said, "I did it, and + will do so again: they cannot escape me, for they have + eaten," &c. (Sprenger, _Malleus maleficarum_, _quaestio_, vii. + p. 84.) "The worst of it is," says Sprenger, "that we have no + means of punishing or examining her: _so she lives still_." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE HAMMER FOR WITCHES. + + +The witches took small care to hide their game. Rather they boasted of +it; and it was, indeed, from their own lips that Sprenger picked up +the bulk of the tales that grace his handbook. It is a pedantic work, +marked out into the absurd divisions and subdivisions employed by the +followers of St. Thomas Aquinas; but a work sincere withal, and +frank-spoken, written by a man so thoroughly frightened by this +dreadful duel between God and the Devil, wherein God _generally_ +allows the Devil to win, that the only remedy he can discern is to +pursue the latter fire in hand, and burn with all speed those bodies +which he had chosen for his dwelling-place. + +Sprenger's sole merit is the fact of his having written a complete +book, which crowns a mighty system, a whole literature. To the old +_Penitentiaries_, handbooks of confessors for the inquisition of sin, +succeeded the _Directories_ for the inquisition of heresy, the +greatest sin of all. But for Witchcraft, the greatest of all heresies, +special handbooks or directories were appointed. Hammers for Witches, +to wit. These handbooks, continually enriched by the zeal of the +Dominicans, attained perfection in the _Malleus_ of Sprenger, the +book by which he himself was guided during his great mission to +Germany, and which for a century after served as a guide and light for +the courts of the Inquisition. + +How was Sprenger led to the study of these things? He tells us that +being in Rome, at a refectory where the monks were entertaining some +pilgrims, he saw two from Bohemia; one a young priest, the other his +father. The father sighing prayed for a successful journey. Touched +with a kindly feeling Sprenger asked him why he sorrowed. Because his +son was _possessed_: at great cost and with much trouble he had +brought him to the tomb of the saints, at Rome. + +"Where is this son of yours?" said the monk. + +"By your side." + +"At this answer I shrank back alarmed. I scanned the young priest's +figure, and was amazed to see him eat with so modest an air, and +answer with so much gentleness. He informed me that, on speaking +somewhat sharply to an old woman, she had laid him under a spell, and +that spell was under a tree. What tree? The Witch steadily refused to +say." + +Sprenger's charity led him to take the possessed from church to +church, from relic to relic. At every halting-place there was an +exorcism, followed by furious cries, contortions, jabbering in every +language, and gambols without number: all this before the people, who +followed the pair with shuddering admiration. The devils, so abundant +in Germany, were scarcer among the Italians. For some days Rome talked +of nothing else. The noise made by this affair doubtless brought the +Dominican into public notice. He studied, collected all the _Mallei_, +and other manuscript handbooks, and became a first-rate authority in +the processes against demons. His _Malleus_ was most likely composed +during the twenty years between this adventure and the important +mission entrusted to Sprenger by Pope Innocent VIII., in 1484. + + * * * * * + +For that mission to Germany a clever man was specially needed; a man +of wit and ability, who might overcome the dislike of honest German +folk for the dark system it would be his care to introduce. In the Low +Countries Rome had suffered a rude check, which brought the +Inquisition into vogue there, and consequently closed France against +it: Toulouse alone, as being the old Albigensian country, having +endured the Inquisition. About the year 1460 a Penitentiary[70] of +Rome, being made Dean of Arras, thought to strike an awe-inspiring +blow at the _Chambers of Rhetoric_, literary clubs which had begun to +handle religious questions. He had one of these Rhetoricians burnt for +a wizard, and along with him some wealthy burgesses, and even a few +knights. The nobles were angry at this near approach to themselves: +the public voice was raised in violent outcry. The Inquisition was +cursed and spat upon, especially in France. The Parliament of Paris +roughly closed its doors upon it; and thus by her awkwardness did Rome +lose her opportunity of establishing that Reign of Terror throughout +the North. + + [70] Officer charged with the absolution of + penitents.--TRANS. + +About 1484 the time seemed better chosen. The Inquisition had grown to +so dreadful a height in Spain, setting itself even above the king, +that it seemed already confirmed as a conquering institution, able to +move forward alone, to make its way everywhere, and seize upon +everything. In Germany, indeed, it was hindered by the jealous +antagonism of the spiritual princes, who, having courts of their own, +and holding inquisitions by themselves, would never agree to accept +that of Rome. But the position of these princes towards the popular +movements by which they were then so greatly disquieted, soon rendered +them more manageable. All along the Rhine, and throughout Swabia, even +on the eastern side towards Salzburg, the country seemed to be +undermined. At every moment burst forth some fresh revolt of the +peasantry. A vast underground volcano, an invisible lake of fire, +showed itself, as it were, from place to place, in continual spouts of +flame. More dreaded than that of Germany, the foreign Inquisition +appeared at a most seasonable hour for spreading terror through the +country, and crushing the rebellious spirits, by roasting, as the +wizards of to-day, those who might else have been the insurgents of +to-morrow. It was a beautiful _derivative_, an excellent popular +weapon for putting down the people. This time the storm got turned +upon the Wizards, as in 1349, and on many other occasions it had been +launched against the Jews. + +Only the right man was needed. He who should be the first to set up +his judgment-seat in sight of the jealous courts of Mentz and Cologne, +in presence of the mocking mobs of Strazburg or Frankfort, must indeed +be a man of ready wit. He would need great personal cleverness to +atone for, to cause a partial forgetfulness of his hateful mission. +Rome, too, has always plumed herself on choosing the best men for her +work. Caring little for questions, and much for persons, she thought +rightly enough that the successful issue of her affairs depended on +the special character of her several agents abroad. Was Sprenger the +right man? He was a German to begin with, a Dominican enjoying +beforehand the support of that dreaded order through all its convents, +through all its schools. Need was there of a worthy son of the +schools, a good disputant, of a man well skilled in the _Sum_,[71] +grounded firm in his St. Thomas, able at any moment to quote texts. +All this Sprenger certainly was: and best of all, he was a fool. + + [71] A mediaeval text-book on theology.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +"It has been often said that _diabolus_ comes from _dia_, 'two,' and +_bolus_, 'a pill or ball,' because devouring alike soul and body, he +makes but one pill, one mouthful of the two. But"--he goes on to say +with the gravity of _Sganarelle_--"in Greek etymology _diabolus_ means +'shut up in a house of bondage,' or rather 'flowing down' (Teufel?), +that is to say, falling, because he fell from heaven." + +Whence comes the word sorcery (_malefice_)? From _maleficiendo_, which +means _male de fide sentiendo_.[72] A curious etymology, but one that +will hold a great deal. Once trace a resemblance between witchcraft +and evil opinions, and every wizard becomes a heretic, every doubter a +wizard. All who think wrongly can be burnt for wizards. This was done +at Arras; and they long to establish the same rule, little by little, +everywhere else. + + [72] "Thinking ill of the faith."--TRANS. + +Herein lies the once sure merit of Sprenger. A fool, but a fearless +one, he boldly lays down the most unwelcome theses. Others would have +striven to shirk, to explain away, to diminish, the objections that +might be made. Not he, however. From the first page he puts plainly +forward, one by one, the natural manifest reasons for not believing in +the Satanic miracles. To these he coldly adds: "_They are but so many +heretical mistakes_." And without stopping to refute those reasons, he +copies you out the adverse passages found in the Bible, St. Thomas, in +books of legends, in the canonists, and the scholiasts. Having first +shown you the right interpretation, he grinds it to powder by dint of +authority. + +He sits down satisfied, calm as a conqueror; seeming to say, "Well, +what say you now? Will you dare use your reason again? Go and doubt +away then; doubt, for instance, that the Devil delights in setting +himself between wife and husband, although the Church and all the +canonists repeatedly admit this reason for a divorce!" + +Of a truth this is unanswerable: nobody will breathe so much as a +whisper in reply. Since Sprenger heads his handbook for judges by +declaring the slightest doubt _heretical_, the judge stands bound +accordingly; he feels that he cannot stumble, that if unhappily he +should ever be tempted by an impulse of doubt or humanity, he must +begin by condemning himself and delivering his own body to the flames. + + * * * * * + +The same method prevails everywhere: first the sensible meaning, which +is then confronted openly, without reserve, by the negation of all +good sense. Some one, for instance, might be tempted to say that as +love is in the soul, there is no need to account for it by the +mysterious working of the Devil. That is surely specious, is it not? + +"By no means," says Sprenger. + +"I mark a difference. He who cuts wood does not cause it to burn: he +only does so indirectly. The woodcutter is Love; see Denis the +Areopagite, Origen, John of Damascus. Therefore, love is but the +indirect cause of love." + +What a thing, you see, to have studied! No weak school could have +turned out such a man. Only Paris, Louvain, or Cologne, had machinery +fit to mould the human brain. The school of Paris was mighty: for +dog-Latin who can be matched with the _Janotus_ of Gargantua?[73] But +mightier yet was Cologne, glorious queen of darkness, whence Hutten +drew the type of his _Obscuri viri_, that thriving and fruitful race +of obscurantists and ignoramuses.[74] + + [73] A character in Rabelais. "Date nobis clochas nostras, + &c."--_Gargantua_, ch. 19.--TRANS. + + [74] Ulrich von Hutten, friend of Luther, and author of the + witty _Epistolae obscurorum virorum_.--TRANS. + +This massive logician, so full of words, so devoid of meaning, sworn +foe of nature as well as reason, takes his seat with a proud reliance +on his books and gown, on his dirt and dust. On one side of his +judgement-table lies the _Sum_, on the other the _Directory_. Beyond +these he never goes: at all else he only smiles. On such a man as he +there is no imposing: he is not the man to utter anent astrology or +alchemy nonsense not so foolish but that others might be led thereby +to observe truly. And yet Sprenger is a freethinker: he is sceptical +about old receipts! Albert the Great may aver, that some sage in a +spring of water will suffice to raise a storm, but Sprenger only +shakes his head. Sage indeed! Tell that to others, I beg. For all my +little experience, I see herein the craft of One who would put us on +the wrong scent, that cunning Prince of the Air; but he will fare +ill, for he has to deal with a doctor more subtle than the Subtle One +himself. + +I should have liked to see face to face this wonderful specimen of a +judge, and the people who were brought before him. The creatures that +God might bring together from two different worlds would not be more +unlike, more strange to each other, more utterly wanting in a common +language. The old hag, a skeleton in tatters, with an eye flashing +forth evil things, a being thrice cooked in hell-fire; and the +ill-looking hermit shepherd of the Black Forest or the upper Alpine +wastes--such are the savages offered to the leaden gaze of a +scholarling, to the judgement of a schoolman. + +Not long will they let him toil in his judgment-seat. They will tell +all without being tortured. Come the torture will indeed, but +afterwards, by way of complement and crown to the law-procedure. They +explain and relate to order whatever they have done. The Devil is the +Witch's bedfellow, the shepherd's intimate friend. She, for her part, +smiles triumphantly, feels a manifest joy in the horror of those +around. + +Truly, the old woman is very mad, and equally so the shepherd. Are +they foolish? Not at all, but far otherwise. They are refined, subtle, +skilled in growing herbs, and seeing through walls. Still more clearly +do they see those monumental ass's ears that overshadow the doctor's +cap. Clearest of all is the fear he has of them, for in vain does he +try to bear him boldly; he does nought but tremble. He himself owns +that, if the priest who adjures the demon does not take care, the +Devil will change his lodging only to pass into the priest himself, +feeling all the more proud of dwelling in a body dedicated to God. Who +knows but these simple Devils of Witches and shepherds might even +aspire to inhabit an inquisitor? He is far from easy in mind when in +his loudest voice he says to the old woman, "If your master is so +mighty, why do I not feel his blows?" + +"And, indeed I felt them but too strongly," says the poor man in his +book. "When I was in Ratisbon, how often he would come knocking at my +windowpanes! How often he stuck pins in my cap! A hundred visions too +did I have of dogs, monkeys," &c. + + * * * * * + +The dearest delight of that great logician, the Devil, is, by the +mouth of the seeming old woman, to push the doctor with awkward +arguments, with crafty questions, from which he can only escape by +acting like the fish who saves himself by troubling the water and +turning it black as ink. For instance, "The Devil does no more than +God allows him: why, then, punish his tools?" Or again, "We are not +free. As in the case of Job, the Devil is allowed by God to tempt and +beset us, to urge us on by blows. Should we, then, punish him who is +not free?" Sprenger gets out of that by saying, "We are free beings." +Here come plenty of texts. "You are made serfs only by covenant with +the Evil One." The answer to this would be but too ready: "If God +allows the Evil One to tempt us into making covenants, he renders +covenants possible," &c. + +"I am very good," says he, "to listen to yonder folk. He is a fool who +argues with the Devil." So say all the rest likewise. They all cheer +the progress of the trial: all are strongly moved, and show in murmurs +their eagerness for the execution. They have seen enough of men +hanged. As for the Wizard and the Witch, 'twill be a curious treat to +see those two faggots crackling merrily in the flames. + +The judge has the people on his side, so he is not embarrassed. +According to his _Directory_ three witnesses would be enough. Are not +three witnesses readily found, especially to witness a falsehood? In +every slanderous town, in every envious village teeming with the +mutual hate of neighbours, witnesses abound. Besides, the _Directory_ +is a superannuated book, a century old. In that century of light, the +fifteenth, all is brought to perfection. If witnesses are wanting, we +are content with the _public voice_, the general clamour.[75] + + [75] Faustin Helie, in his learned and luminous _Traite de + l'Instruction Criminelle_ (vol. i. p. 398), has clearly + explained the manner in which Pope Innocent III., about 1200, + suppressed the safeguards theretofore required in any + prosecution, especially the risk incurred by prosecutors of + being punished for slander. Instead of these were established + the dismal processes of _Denunciation and Inquisition_. The + frightful levity of these latter methods is shown by Soldan. + Blood was shed like water. + +A genuine outcry, born of fear; the piteous cry of victims, of the +poor bewitched. Sprenger is greatly moved thereat. Do not fancy him +one of those unfeeling schoolmen, the lovers of a dry abstraction. He +has a heart: for which very reason he is so ready to kill. He is +compassionate, full of lovingkindness. He feels pity for yon weeping +woman, but lately pregnant, whose babe the witch had smothered by a +look. He feels pity for the poor man whose land she wasted with hail. +He pities the husband, who though himself no wizard, clearly sees his +wife to be a witch, and drags her with a rope round her neck before +Sprenger, who has her burnt. + +From a cruel judge escape was sometimes possible; but from our worthy +Sprenger it was hopeless. His humanity is too strong: it needs great +management, a very large amount of ready wit, to avoid a burning at +his hands. One day there was brought before him the plaint of three +good ladies of Strasburg who, at one same hour of the same day, had +been struck by an arm unseen. Ah, indeed! They are fain to accuse a +man of evil aspect, of having laid them under a spell. On being +brought before the inquisitor, the man vows and swears by all the +saints that he knows nothing about these ladies, has never so much as +seen them. The judge is hard of believing: nor tears nor oaths avail +aught with him. His great compassion for the ladies made him +inexorable, indignant at the man's denials. Already he was rising from +his seat. The man would have been tortured into confessing his guilt, +as the most innocent often did. He got leave to speak, and said: "I +remember, indeed, having struck some one yesterday at the hour named; +but whom? No Christian beings, but only three cats which came +furiously biting at my legs." The judge, like a shrewd fellow, saw the +whole truth of the matter; the poor man was innocent; the ladies were +doubtless turned on certain days into cats, and the Evil One amused +himself by sending them at the legs of Christian folk, in order to +bring about the ruin of these latter by making them pass for wizards. + +A judge of less ability would never have hit upon this. But such a man +was not always to be had. It was needful to have always handy on the +table of the Inquisition a good fool's guide, to reveal to simple and +inexperienced judges the tricks of the Old Enemy, the best way of +baffling him, the clever and deep-laid tactics employed with such +happy effect by the great Sprenger in his campaigns on the Rhine. To +that end the _Malleus_, which a man was required to carry in his +pocket, was commonly printed in small 18mo, a form at that time +scarce. It would not have been seemly for a judge in difficulties to +open a folio on the table before his audience. But his handbook of +folly he might easily squint at from the corner of his eye, or turn +over its leaves as he held it under the table. + + * * * * * + +This _Malleus_ (or Mallet), like all books of the same class, contains +a singular avowal, namely, that the Devil is gaining ground; in other +words, that God is losing it; that mankind, after being saved by +Christ, is becoming the Devil's prey. Too clearly indeed does he step +forward from legend to legend. What a way he has made between the time +of the Gospels, when he was only too glad to get into the swine, and +the days of Dante, when, as lawyer and divine, he argues with the +saints, pleads his cause, and by way of closing a successful +syllogism, bears away the soul he was fighting for, saying, with a +triumphant laugh, "You didn't know that I was a logician!" + +In the earlier days of the Middle Ages he waits till the last pangs to +seize the soul and bear it off. Saint Hildegarde, about 1100, thinks +that "_he cannot enter the body of a living man_, for else his limbs +would fly off in all directions: it is but the shadow and the smoke of +the Devil which pass therein." That last gleam of good sense vanishes +in the twelfth century. In the thirteenth we find a suppliant so +afraid of being caught alive that he has himself watched day and night +by two hundred armed men. + +Then begins a period of increasing terror, in which men trust +themselves less and ever less to God's protection. The Demon is no +longer a stealthy sprite, no longer a thief by night, gliding through +the gloom. He becomes the fearless adversary, the daring ape of +Heaven, who in broad daylight mimics God's creation under God's own +sun. Is it the legends tell us this? Nay, it is the greatest of the +doctors. "The Devil," says Albert the Great, "transforms all living +things." St. Thomas goes yet further. "All changes that may occur +naturally by means of seeds, can be copied by the Devil." What an +astounding concession, which coming from the mouth of so grave a +personage, means nothing short of setting up one Creator face to face +with another! "But in things done without the germinal process," he +adds, "such as the changing of men into beasts or the resurrection of +the dead, there the Devil can do nothing." Thus to God is left the +smaller part of His work! He may only perform miracles, a kind of +action alike singular and infrequent. But the daily miracle of life is +not for Him alone: His copyist, the Devil, shares with Him the world +of nature! + +For man himself, whose weak eyes see no difference between nature as +sprung from God and nature as made by the Devil, here is a world split +in twain! A dreadful uncertainty hangs over everything. Nature's +innocence is gone. The clear spring, the pale flower, the little bird, +are these indeed of God, or only treacherous counterfeits, snares laid +out for man? Back! all things look doubtful! The better of the two +creations, being suspiciously like the other, becomes eclipsed and +conquered. The shadow of the Devil covers up the day, spreads over all +life. To judge by appearances and the fears of men, he has ceased to +share the world; he has taken it all to himself. + +So matters stand in the days of Sprenger. His book teems with saddest +avowals of God's weakness. "These things," he says, "are done with +God's leave." To permit an illusion so entire, to let people believe +that God is nought and the Devil everything, is more than mere +_permission_; is tantamount to decreeing the damnation of countless +souls whom nothing can save from such an error. No prayers, no +penances, no pilgrimages, are of any avail; nor even, so it is said, +the sacrament of the altar. Strange and mortifying avowal! The very +nuns who have just confessed themselves, declare _while the host is +yet in their mouths_, that even then they feel the infernal lover +troubling them without fear or shame, troubling and refusing to leave +his hold. And being pressed with further questions, they add, through +their tears, that he has a body _because he has a soul_. + + * * * * * + +The Manichees of old, and the more modern Albigenses, were charged +with believing in the Power of Evil struggling side by side with Good, +with making the Devil equal to God. Here, however, he is more than +equal; for if God through His holy sacrament has still no power for +good, the Devil certainly seems superior. + +I am not surprised at the wondrous sight then offered by the world. +Spain with a darksome fury, Germany with the frightened pedantic rage +certified in the _Malleus_, assail the insolent conqueror through the +wretches in whom he chooses to dwell. They burn, they destroy the +dwellings in which he has taken up his abode. Finding him too strong +for men's souls, they try to hunt him out of their bodies. But what is +the good of it all? You burn one old woman and he settles himself in +her neighbour. Nay, more; if Sprenger may be trusted, he fastens +sometimes on the exorcising priest, and triumphs over his very judge. + +Among other expedients, the Dominicans advised recourse to the +intercession of the Virgin, by a continual repeating of the _Ave +Maria_. Sprenger, for his part, always averred that such a remedy was +but a momentary one. You might be caught between two prayers. Hence +came the invention of the rosary, the chaplet of beads, by means of +which any number of aves might be mumbled through, whilst the mind was +busied elsewhere. Whole populations adopted this first essay of an art +thereafter to be used by Loyola in his attempt to govern the world, an +art of which his _Exercises_ furnish the ingenious groundwork. + + * * * * * + +All this seems opposed to what was said in the foregoing chapter as to +the decline of Witchcraft. The Devil is now popular and everywhere +present. He seems to have come off conqueror: but has he gained by +his victory? What substantial profit has he reaped therefrom? + +Much, as beheld in his new phase of a scientific rebellion which is +about to bring forth the bright Renaissance. None, if beheld under his +old aspect, as the gloomy Spirit of Witchcraft. The stories told of +him in the sixteenth century, if more numerous, more widespread than +ever, readily swing towards the grotesque. People tremble, but they +laugh withal.[76] + + [76] See my _Memoirs of Luther_, concerning the Kilcrops, &c. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +CENTURY OF TOLERATION IN FRANCE: REACTION. + + +The Church forfeited the wizard's property to the judge and the +prosecutor. Wherever the Canon Law was enforced the trials for +witchcraft waxed numerous, and brought much wealth to the clergy. +Wherever the lay tribunals claimed the management of these trials they +grew scarce and disappeared, at least for a hundred years in France, +from 1450 to 1550. + +The first gleam of light shot forth from France in the middle of the +fifteenth century. The inquiry made by Parliament into the trial of +Joan of Arc, and her after reinstalment, set people thinking on the +intercourse of spirits, good and bad; on the errors, also, of the +spiritual courts. She whom the English, whom the greatest doctors of +the Council of Basil pronounced a Witch, appeared to Frenchmen a saint +and sibyl. Her reinstalment proclaimed to France the beginning of an +age of toleration. The Parliament of Paris likewise reinstalled the +alleged Waldenses of Arras. In 1498 it discharged as mad one who was +brought before it as a wizard. None such were condemned in the reigns +of Charles VIII., Louis XII., and Francis I. + + * * * * * + +On the contrary, Spain, under the pious Isabella (1506) and the +Cardinal Ximenes, began burning witches. In 1515, Geneva, being then +under a Bishop, burned five hundred in three months. The Emperor +Charles V., in his German Constitutions, vainly sought to rule, that +"Witchcraft, as causing damage to goods and persons, is a question for +_civil_, not ecclesiastic law." In vain did he do away the right of +confiscation, except in cases of treason. The small prince-bishops, +whose revenues were largely swelled by trials for witchcraft, kept on +burning at a furious rate. In one moment, as it were, six hundred +persons were burnt in the infinitesimal bishopric of Bamberg, and nine +hundred in that of Wurtzburg. The way of going to work was very +simple. Begin by using torture against the witnesses; create witnesses +for the prosecution by means of pain and terror; then, by dint of +excessive kindliness, draw from the accused a certain avowal, and +believe that avowal in the teeth of proven facts. A witch, for +instance, owns to having taken from the graveyard the body of an +infant lately dead, that she might use it in her magical compounds. +Her husband bids them go the graveyard, for the child is there still. +On being disinterred, the child is found all right in his coffin. But +against the witness of his own eyes the judge pronounces it _an +appearance_, a cheat of the Devil. He prefers the wife's confession to +the fact itself; and she is burnt forthwith.[77] + + [77] For this and other facts regarding Germany, see Soldan. + +So far did matters go among these worthy prince-bishops, that after a +while, Ferdinand II., the most bigoted of all emperors, the emperor of +the Thirty Years' War, was fain to interfere, to set up at Bamberg an +imperial commissary, who should maintain the law of the empire, and +see that the episcopal judge did not begin the trial with tortures +which settled it beforehand, which led straight to the stake. + + * * * * * + +Witches were easily caught by their confessions, sometimes without the +torture. Many of them were half mad. They would own to turning +themselves into beasts. The Italian women often became cats, and +gliding under the doors, sucked, they said, the blood of children. In +the land of mighty forests, in Lorraine and on the Jura, the women, of +their own accord, became wolves, and, if you could believe them, +devoured the passers by, even when nobody had passed by. They were +burnt. Some girls, who swore they had given themselves to the Devil, +were found to be maidens still. They, too, were burnt. Several seemed +in a great hurry, as if they wanted to be burnt. Sometimes it happened +from raging madness, sometimes from despair. An Englishwoman being led +to the stake, said to the people, "Do not blame my judges. I wanted to +put an end to my own self. My parents kept aloof from me in their +dread. My husband had disowned me. I could not have lived on without +disgrace. I longed for death, and so I told a lie." + +The first words of open toleration against silly Sprenger, his +frightful Handbook, and his Inquisitors, were spoken by Molitor, a +lawyer of Constance. He made this sensible remark, that the +confessions of witches should not be taken seriously, because it was +the very Father of Lies who spoke by their mouths. He laughed at the +miracles of Satan, affirming them to be all illusory. In an indirect +way, such jesters as Hutten and Erasmus dealt violent blows at the +Inquisition, through their satires on the Dominican idiots. Cardan[78] +said, straightforwardly, "In order to obtain forfeit property, the +same persons acted as accusers and judges, and invented a thousand +stories in proof." + + [78] A famous Italian physician, who lived through the + greater part of the sixteenth century.--TRANS. + +That apostle of toleration, Chatillon, who maintained against +Catholics and Protestants both, that heretics should not be burnt, +though he said nothing about wizards, put men of sense in a better +way. Agrippa,[79] Lavatier, above all, Wyer[80]] the illustrious +physician of Cleves, rightly said that if those wretched witches were +the Devil's plaything, we must lay the blame on the Devil, not on +them; must cure, instead of burning them. Some physicians of Paris +soon pushed incredulity so far as to maintain that the possessed and +the witches were simply knaves. This was going too far. Most of them +were sufferers under the sway of an illusion. + + [79] Cornelius Agrippa, of Cologne, born in 1486, sometime + Secretary of the Emperor Maximilian, and author of two works + famous in their day, _Vanity of the Sciences_, and _Occult + Philosophy_.--TRANS. + + [80] A friend of Sir Philip Sydney, who sent for him when + dying.--TRANS. + +The dark reign of Henry II. and Diana of Poitiers ends the season of +toleration. Under Diana, they burn heretics and wizards again. On the +other hand, Catherine of Medici, surrounded as she was by astrologers +and magicians, would have protected the latter. Their numbers +increased amain. The wizard Trois-Echelles, who was tried in the reign +of Charles IX., reckons them at a hundred thousand, declaring all +France to be one Witch. + +Agrippa and others affirm, that all science is contained in magic. In +white magic undoubtedly. But the fears of fools and their fanatic +rage, put little difference between them. In spite of Wyer, in spite +of those true philosophers, Light and Toleration, a strong reaction +towards darkness set in from a quarter whence it was least expected. +Our magistrates, who for nearly a century, had shown themselves +enlightened and fair-dealing, now threw themselves into the Spanish +Catholicon[81] and the fury of the Leaguists,[82] until they waxed +more priest-like than the priests themselves. While scouting the +Inquisition from France, they matched, and well-nigh eclipsed it by +their own deeds: the Parliament of Toulouse alone sending four hundred +human bodies at one time to the stake. Think of the horror, the black +smoke of all that flesh, of the frightful melting and bubbling of the +fat amidst those piercing shrieks and yells! So accursed, so sickening +a sight had not been seen, since the Albigenses were broiled and +roasted. + + [81] Catholicon, or purgative panacea: _i. e._ the + Inquisition.--TRANS. + + [82] The wars of the Catholic League against Henry of Navarre + began in 1576.--TRANS. + +But this is all too little for Bodin, lawyer of Angers, and a violent +adversary to Wyer. He begins by saying that the wizards in Europe are +numerous enough to match Xerxes' army of eighteen hundred thousand +men. Then, like Caligula, he utters a prayer, that these two millions +might be gathered together, so as he, Bodin, could sentence and burn +them all at one stroke. + + * * * * * + +The new rivalry makes matters worse. The gentry of the Law begin to +say that the priest, being too often connected with the wizard, is no +longer a safe judge. In fact, for a moment, the lawyers seem to be yet +more trustworthy. In Spain, the Jesuit pleader, Del Rio; in Lorraine, +Remy (1596); Boguet (1602) on the Jura; Leloyer (1605) in Anjou; are +all matchless persecutors, who would have made Torquemada[83] himself +die of envy. + + [83] The infamous Spanish Inquisitor, who died at the close + of the fifteenth century, after sixteen years of untold + atrocities against the heretics of Spain.--TRANS. + +In Lorraine there seemed to be quite a dreadful plague of wizards and +visionaries. Driven to despair by the constant passing of troops and +brigands, the multitude prayed to the Devil only. They were drawn on +by the wizards. A number of villagers, frightened by a twofold dread +of wizards on the one hand, and judges on the other, longed to leave +their homes and flee elsewhither, if Remy, Judge of Nancy, may be +believed. In the work he dedicated (1596) to the Cardinal of Lorraine, +he owns to having burnt eight hundred witches, in sixteen years. "So +well do I deal out judgements," he says, "that last year sixteen slew +themselves to avoid passing through my hands." + + * * * * * + +The priests felt humbled. Could they have done better than the laity? +Nay, even the monkish lords of Saint Claude asked for a layman, honest +Boguet, to sit in judgment on their own people, who were much given to +witchcraft. In that sorry Jura, a poor land of firs and scanty +pasturage, the serf in his despair yielded himself to the Devil. They +all worshipped the Black Cat. + +Boguet's book had immense weight. This Golden Book, by the petty judge +of Saint Claude, was studied as a handbook by the worshipful members +of Parliament. In truth, Boguet is a thorough lawyer, is even +scrupulous in his own way. He finds fault with the treachery shown in +these prosecutions; will not hear of barristers betraying their +clients, of judges promising pardon only to ensure the death of the +accused. He finds fault with the very doubtful tests to which the +witches were still exposed. "Torture," he says, "is needless: it never +makes them yield." Moreover, he is humane enough to have them +strangled before throwing them to the flames, always except the +werewolves, "whom you must take care to burn alive." He cannot believe +that Satan would make a compact with children: "Satan is too sharp; +knows too well that, under fourteen years, any bargain made with a +minor, is annulled by default of years and due discretion." Then the +children are saved? Not at all; for he contradicts himself, and holds, +moreover, that such a leprosy cannot be purged away without burning +everything, even to the cradles. Had he lived, he would have come to +that. He made the country a desert: never was there a judge who +destroyed people with so fine a conscience. + +But it is to the Parliament of Bourdeaux that the grand hurrah for lay +jurisdiction is sent up in Lancre's book on _The Fickleness of +Demons_. The author, a man of some sense, a counsellor in this same +Parliament, tells with a triumphant air of his fight with the Devil in +the Basque country, where, in less than three months, he got rid of I +know not how many witches, and, better still, of three priests. He +looks compassionately on the Spanish Inquisition, which at Logrono, +not far off, on the borders of Navarre and Castille, dragged on a +trial for two years, ending in the poorest way by a small +_auto-da-fe_, and the release of a whole crowd of women. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE WITCHES OF THE BASQUE COUNTRY: 1609.[84] + + [84] The Basques of the Lower Pyrenees, the Aquitani of + Caesar, belonged to the old Iberian race which peopled Western + Europe before the Celtic era.--TRANS. + + +That strong-handed execution of the priests shows M. Lancre to have +been a man of independent spirit. In politics he is the same. In his +book on _The Prince_ (1617), he openly declares "the law to be above +the King." + +Never was the Basque character better drawn than in his book on _The +Fickleness of Demons_. In France, as in Spain, the Basque people had +privileges which almost made them a republic. On our side they owed +the King no service but that of arms: at the first beat of drum they +were bound to gather two thousand armed men commanded by Basque +captains. They were not oppressed by their clergy, who seldom +prosecuted wizards, being wizards themselves. The priests danced, wore +swords, and took their mistresses to the Witches' Sabbath. These +mistresses acted as their sextonesses or _benedictes_, to keep the +churches in order. The parson quarrelled with nobody, offered the +White Mass to God by day, the Black by night to the Devil, and +sometimes, according to Lancre, in the same church. + +The Basques of Bayonne and St. Jean de Luz, a race of men quaint, +venturesome, and fabulously bold, left many widows, from their habit +of sailing out into the roughest seas to harpoon whales. Leaving their +wives to God or the Devil, they threw themselves in crowds into the +Canadian settlements of Henry IV. As for the children, these honest +worthy sailors would have thought about them more, if they had been +clear as to their parentage. But on their return home they would +reckon up the months of their absence, and they never found the +reckoning right. + +The women, bold, beautiful, imaginative, spent their day seated on +tombs in the grave-yards, talking of the Sabbath, whither they +expected to go in the evening. This was their passion, their craze. + +They are born witches, daughters of the sea and of enchantment. They +sport among the billows, swimming like fish. Their natural master is +the Prince of the Air, King of Winds and Dreams, the same who inspired +the Sibyl and breathed to her the future. + +The judge who burns them is charmed with them, nevertheless. "When you +see them pass," says he, "their hair flowing in the breeze about their +shoulders, they walk so trim, so bravely armed in that fair +head-dress, that the sun playing through it as through a cloud, causes +a mighty blaze which shoots forth hot lightning-flashes. Hence the +fascination of their eyes, as dangerous in love as in witchcraft." + +This amiable Bordeaux magistrate, the earliest sample of those worldly +judges who enlivened the gown in the seventeenth century, plays the +lute between whiles, and even makes the witches dance before sending +them to the stake. And he writes well, far more clearly than anyone +else. But for all that, one discovers in his work a new source of +obscurity, inherent to those times. The witches being too numerous for +the judge to burn them all, the most of them have a shrewd idea that +he will show some indulgence to those who enter deepest into his +thoughts and passions! What passions? you ask. First, his love of the +frightfully marvellous, a passion common enough; the delight of +feeling afraid; and also, if it must be said, the enjoyment of +unseemly pleasures. Add to these a touch of vanity: the more dreadful +and enraged those clever women show the Devil to be, the greater the +pride taken by the judge in subduing so mighty an adversary. He arrays +himself as it were in his victory, enthrones himself in his +foolishness, triumphs in his senseless twaddling. + +The prettiest thing of this kind is the report of the procedure in the +Spanish _auto-da-fe_ of Logrono, as furnished to us by Llorente. +Lancre, while quoting him jealously and longing to disparage him, owns +to the surpassing charm of the festival, the splendour of the sight, +the moving power of the music. On one platform were the few condemned +to the flames, on another a crowd of reprieved criminals. The +confession of a repentant heroine who had dared all things, is read +aloud. Nothing could be wilder. At the Sabbaths they ate children made +into hash, and by way of second course, the bodies of wizards +disentombed. Toads dance, and talk and complain lovingly of their +mistresses, getting them scolded by the Devil. The latter politely +escorts the witches home, lighting them with the arm of a child who +died unchristened, &c. + +Among our Basques witchcraft put on a less fantastic guise. It seems +that at this time the Sabbath was only a grand feast to which all, the +nobles included, went for purposes of amusement. In the foremost line +would be seen persons in veils and masks, by some supposed to be +princes. "Once on a time," says Lancre, "none but idiots of the Landes +appeared there: now people of quality are seen to go." To entertain +these local grandees, Satan sometimes created a _Bishop of the +Sabbath_. Such was the title he gave the young lord Lancinena, with +whom the Devil in person was good enough to open the ball. + +So well supported, the witches held their sway, wielding over the land +an amazing terrorism of the fancy. Numbers regarded themselves as +victims, and became in fact seriously ill. Many were stricken with +epilepsy, and barked like dogs. In one small town of Acqs were counted +as many as forty of these barkers. The Witch had so fearful a hold +upon them, that one lady being called as witness, began barking with +uncontrollable fury as the Witch, unawares to herself, drew near. + +Those to whom was ascribed so terrible a power lorded it everywhere. +No one would dare shut his door against them. One magistrate, the +criminal assessor of Bayonne, allowed the Sabbath to be held in his +own house. Urtubi, Lord of Saint Pe, was forced to hold the festival +in his castle. But his head was shaken to that degree, that he +imagined a witch was sucking his blood. Emboldened, however, by his +fear, he, with another gentleman, repaired to Bordeaux, and persuaded +the Parliament to obtain from the King the commissioning of two of its +members, Espagnet and Lancre, to try the wizards in the Basque +country. This commission, absolute and without appeal, worked with +unheard-of vigour; in four months, from May to August, 1609, condemned +sixty or eighty witches, and examined five hundred more, who, though +equally marked with the sign of the Devil, figured in the proceedings +as witnesses only. + + * * * * * + +It was no safe matter for two men and a few soldiers to carry on these +trials amongst a violent, hot-headed people, a multitude of wild and +daring sailors' wives. Another source of danger was in the priests, +many of whom were wizards, needing to be tried by the lay +commissioners, despite the lively opposition of the clergy. + +When the judges appeared, many persons saved themselves in the hills. +Others boldly remained, saying, it was the judges who would be burnt. +So little fear had the witches themselves, that before the audience +they would sink into the Sabbatic slumber, and affirm on awaking that, +even in court, they had enjoyed the blessedness of Satan. Many said, +they only suffered from not being able to prove to him how much they +burned to suffer for his sake. + +Those who were questioned said they could not speak. Satan rising into +their throats blocked up their gullets. Lancre, who wrote this +narrative, though the younger of the commissioners, was a man of the +world. The witches guessed that, with a man of his sort, there were +means of saving themselves. The league between them was broken. A +beggar-girl of seventeen, La Murgui, or Margaret, who had found +witchcraft gainful, and, while herself almost a child, had brought +away children as offerings to the Devil, now betook herself, with +another girl, Lisalda, of the same age, to denouncing all the rest. By +word of mouth or in writing she revealed all; with the liveliness, the +noise, the emphatic gestures of a Spaniard, entering truly or falsely +into a hundred impure details. She frightened, amused, wheedled her +judges, drawing them after her like fools. To this corrupt, wanton, +crazy girl, they entrusted the right of searching about the bodies of +girls and boys, for the spot whereon Satan had set his mark. This spot +discovered itself by a certain numbness, by the fact that you might +stick needles into it without causing pain. While a surgeon thus +tormented the elder ones, she took in hand the young, who, though +called as witnesses, might themselves be accused, if she pronounced +them to bear the mark. It was a hateful thing to see this brazen-faced +girl made sole mistress of the fate of those wretched beings, +commissioned to prod them all over with needles, and able at will to +assign those bleeding bodies to death! + +She had gotten so mighty a sway over Lancre, as to persuade him that, +while he was sleeping in Saint Pe, in his own house, guarded by his +servants and his escort, the Devil came by night into his room, to say +the Black Mass; while the witches getting inside his very curtains, +would have poisoned him, had he not been well protected by God +Himself. The Black Mass was offered by the Lady of Lancinena, to whom +Satan made love in the very bedroom of the judge. We can guess the +likely aim of this wretched tale: the beggar bore a grudge against the +lady, who was good-looking, and, but for this slander, might have come +to bear sway over the honest commissioner. + + * * * * * + +Lancre and his colleague taking fright, went forward; never dared to +draw back. They had their royal gallows set up on the very spots where +Satan had held a Sabbath. People were alarmed thereat, deeming them +strongly backed by the arm of royalty. Impeachments hailed about them. +The women all came in one long string to accuse each other. Children +were brought forward to impeach their mothers. Lancre gravely ruled +that a child of eight was a good, sufficient, reputable witness! + +M. d'Espagnet could give but a few moments to this matter, having +speedily to show himself in the Estates of Bearn. Lancre being pushed +unwittingly forward by the violence of the younger informers, who +would have fallen into great danger, if they had failed to get the old +ones burnt, threw the reins on the neck of the business, and hurried +it on at full gallop. A due amount of witches were condemned to the +stake. These, too, on finding themselves lost, ended by impeaching +others. When the first batch were brought to the stake, a frightful +scene took place. Executioner, constables, and sergeants, all thought +their last hour was come. The crowd fell savagely upon the carts, +seeking to force the wretches to withdraw their accusations. The men +put daggers to their throats: their furious companions were like to +finish them with their nails. + +Justice, however, got out of the scrape with some credit; and then the +commissioners went on to the harder work of sentencing eight priests +whom they had taken up. The girls' confessions had brought these men +to light. Lancre speaks of their morals like one who knew all about +them of himself. He rebukes them, not only for their gay proceedings +on Sabbath nights, but, most of all, for their sextonesses and female +churchwardens. He even repeats certain tales about the priests having +sent off the husbands to Newfoundland, and brought back Devils from +Japan who gave up the wives into their hands. + +The clergy were deeply stirred: the Bishop of Bayonne would have made +resistance. His courage failing him, he appointed his vicar-general to +act as judge-assistant in his own absence. Luckily the Devil gave the +accused more help than their Bishop. He opened all the doors, so that +one morning five of the eight were found missing. The commissioners +lost no time in burning the three still left to them. + + * * * * * + +This happened about August, 1609. The Spanish inquisitors at Logrono +did not crown their proceedings with an _auto-da-fe_ before the 8th +November, 1610. They had met with far more trouble than our own +countrymen, owing to the frightful number of persons accused. How burn +a whole people? They sought advice of the Pope, of the greatest +doctors in Spain. The word was given to draw back. Only the wilful who +persisted in denying their guilt, were to be burnt; while they who +pleaded guilty should be let go. The same method had already been used +to rescue priests in trials for loose living. According to Llorente, +it was deemed sufficient, if they owned their crime, and went through +a slight penance. + +The Inquisition, so deadly to heretics, so cruel to Moors and Jews, +was much less so to wizards. These, being mostly shepherds, had no +quarrel with the Church. The rejoicings of goatherds were too low, if +not too brutish, to disturb the enemies of free thought. + + * * * * * + +Lancre wrote his book mainly to show how much the justice of French +Parliaments and laymen excelled the justice of the priests. It is +written lightly, merrily, with flowing pen. It seems to express the +joy felt by one who has come creditably out of a great risk. It is a +gasconading, an over-boastful joy. He tells with pride how, the +Sabbath following the first execution of the witches, their children +went and wailed to Satan, who replied that their mothers had not been +burnt, but were alive and happy. From the midst of the crowd the +children thought they heard their mothers' voices saying how +thoroughly blest they were. Satan was frightened nevertheless. He +absented himself for four Sabbaths, sending a small commonplace devil +in his stead. He did not show himself again till the 22nd July. When +the wizards asked him the reason of his absence, he said, "I have been +away, pleading your cause against _Little John_," the name by which he +called Jesus. "I have won the suit, and they who are still in prison +will not be burnt." + +The lie was given to the great liar. And the conquering magistrate +avers that, while the last witch was burning, they saw a swarm of +toads come out of her head. The people fell on them with stones, so +that she was rather stoned than burnt. But for all their attacks, they +could not put an end to one black toad which escaped from flames, +sticks, and stones, to hide, like the Devil's imp it was, in some spot +where it could never be found.[85] + + [85] For a more detailed account of these Basque Witches, the + English reader may turn to Wright's _Narratives of Sorcery + and Magic_. Bentley, 1851.--TRANS. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SATAN TURNS PRIEST. + + +Whatever semblance of Satanic fanaticism was still preserved by the +witches, it transpires from the narratives of Lancre and other writers +of the seventeenth century, that the Sabbath then was mainly an affair +of money. They raised contributions almost by force, charged something +for right of entrance, and extracted fines from those who stayed away. +At Brussels and in Picardy, they had a fixed scale of payment for +rewarding those who brought new members into the brotherhood. + +In the Basque country no mystery was kept up. The gatherings there +would amount to twelve thousand persons, of all classes, rich or poor, +priests and gentlemen. Satan, himself a gentleman, wore a hat upon his +three horns, like a man of quality. Finding his old seat, the druidic +stone, too hard for him, he treats himself to an easy well-gilt +arm-chair. Shall we say he is growing old? More nimble now than when +he was young, he frolics about, cuts capers, and leaps from the bottom +of a large pitcher. He goes through the service head downwards, his +feet in the air. + +He likes everything to go off quite respectably, and spares no cost +in his scenic arrangements. Besides the customary flames, red, yellow, +and blue, which entertain the eye, as they show forth or hide the +flickering shadows, he charms the ear with strange music, mainly of +little bells that tickle the nerves with something like the searching +vibrations of musical-glasses. To crown this splendour Satan bids them +bring out his silver plate. Even his toads give themselves airs, +become fashionable, and, like so many lordlings, go about in green +velvet. + +The general effect is that of a large fair, of a great masked ball +with very transparent disguises. Satan, who understands his epoch, +opens the ball with the Bishop of the Sabbath; or the King and Queen: +offices devised in compliment to the great personages, wealthy or +well-born, who honour the meeting by their presence. + +Here may be seen no longer the gloomy feast of rebels, the baleful +orgie of serfs and boors, sharing by night the sacrament of love, by +day the sacrament of death. The violent Sabbath-round is no more the +one only dance of the evening. Thereto are now added the Moorish +dances, lively or languishing, but always amorous and obscene, in +which girls dressed up for the purpose, like _La Murgui_ or _La +Lisalda_, feigned and showed off the most provoking characters. Among +the Basques these dances formed, we are told, the invincible charm +which sent the whole world of women, wives, daughters, widows--the +last in great numbers--headlong into the Sabbath. + +Without such amusements and the accompanying banquet, one could hardly +understand this general rage for these Sabbaths. It is a kind of love +without love; a feast of barrenness undisguised. Boguet has settled +that point to a nicety. Differing in one passage, where he dismisses +the women as afraid of coming to harm, Lancre is generally at one with +Boguet, besides being more sincere. The cruel and foul researches he +pursues on the very bodies of witches, show clearly that he deemed +them barren, and that a barren passive love underlay the Sabbath +itself. + +The feast ought therefore to have been a dismal one, if the men had +owned the smallest heart. + +The silly girls who went to dance and eat were victims in every way. +But they were resigned to everything save the prospect of bearing +children. They bore indeed a far heavier load of wretchedness than the +men. Sprenger tells of the strange cry, which even in his day burst +forth in the hour of love, "May the Devil have the fruits!" In his +day, moreover, people could live for two _sous_ a day, while in the +reign of Henry IV., about 1600, they could barely live for twenty. +Through all that century the desire, the need for barrenness grew more +and more. + +Under this growing dread of love's allurements the Sabbath would have +become quite dull and wearisome, had not the conductresses cleverly +made the most of its comic side, enlivening it with farcical +interludes. Thus, the opening scene in which Satan, like the Priapus +of olden times, bestowed his coarse endearments on the Witch, was +followed by another game, a kind of chilly purification, which the +sorceress underwent with much grimacing, and a great show of +unpleasant shuddering. Then came another swinish farce, described by +Lancre and Boguet, in which some young and pretty wife would take the +Witch's place as Queen of the Sabbath, and submit her body to the +vilest handling. A farce not less repulsive was the "Black Sacrament," +performed with a black radish, which Satan would cut into little +pieces and gravely swallow. + +The last act of all, according to Lancre, or at least according to the +two bold hussies who made him their fool, was an astounding event to +happen in such crowded meetings. Since witchcraft had become +hereditary in whole families, there was no further need of openly +divulging the old incestuous ways of producing witches, by the +intercourse of a mother with her son. Some sort of comedy perhaps was +made out of the old materials, in the shape of a grotesque Semiramis +or an imbecile Ninus. But the more serious game, which doubtless +really took place, attests the existence of great profligacy in the +upper walks of society: it took the form of a most hateful and +barbarous hoax. + +Some rash husband would be tempted to the spot, so fuddled with a +baleful draught of datura or belladonna, that, like one entranced, he +came to lose all power of speech and motion, retaining only his +sight. His wife, on the other hand, being so bewitched with erotic +drinks as to lose all sense of what she was doing, would appear in a +woeful state of nature, letting herself be caressed under the +indignant eyes of one who could no longer help himself in the least. +His manifest despair, his bootless efforts to unshackle his tongue, +and set free his powerless limbs, his dumb rage and wildly rolling +eyes, inspired beholders with a cruel joy, like that produced by some +of Moliere's comedies. The poor woman, stung with a real delight, +yielded herself up to the most shameful usage, of which on the morrow +neither herself nor her husband would have the least remembrance. But +those who had seen or shared in the cruel farce, would they, too, fail +to remember? + +In such heinous outrages an aristocratic element seems traceable. In +no way do they remind us of the old brotherhood of serfs, of the +original Sabbath, which, though ungodly, and foul enough, was still a +free straightforward matter, in which all was done readily and without +constraint. + +Clearly, Satan, depraved as he was from all time, goes on spoiling +more and more. A polite, a crafty Satan is he now become, sweetly +insipid, but all the more faithless and unclean. It is a new, a +strange thing to see at the Sabbaths, his fellowship with priests. Who +is yon parson coming along with his _Benedicte_, his sextoness, he who +jobs the things of the Church, saying the White Mass of mornings, the +Black at night? "Satan," says Lancre, "persuades him to make love to +his daughters in the spirit, to debauch his fair penitents." Innocent +magistrate! He pretends to be unaware that for a century back the +Devil had been working away at the Church livings, like one who knew +his business! He had made himself father-confessor; or, if you would +rather have it so, the father-confessor had turned Devil. + +The worthy M. de Lancre should have remembered the trials that began +in 1491, and helped perchance to bring the Parliament of Paris into a +tolerant frame of mind. It gave up burning Satan, for it saw nothing +of him but a mask. + +A good many nuns were conquered by his new device of borrowing the +form of some favourite confessor. Among them was Jane Pothierre, a +holy woman of Quesnoy, of the ripe age of forty-five, but still, alas! +all too impressible. She owns her passion to her ghostly counsellor, +who loth to listen to her, flies to Falempin, some leagues off. The +Devil, who never sleeps, saw his advantage, and perceiving her, says +the annalist, "goaded by the thorns of Venus, he slily took the shape +of the aforesaid 'Father,' and returning every night to the convent, +was so successful in befooling her, that she owned to having received +him 434 times."[86] Great pity was felt for her on her repenting; and +she was speedily saved from all need of blushing, being put into a +fine walled-tomb built for her in the Castle of Selles, where a few +days after she died the death of a good Catholic. Is it not a deeply +moving tale? But this is nothing to that fine business of Gauffridi, +which happened at Marseilles while Lancre was drawing up deeds at +Bayonne. + + [86] Massee, _Chronique du Monde_, 1540; and the Chroniclers + of Hainault, &c. + +The Parliament of Provence had no need to envy the success attained by +that of Bordeaux. The lay authorities caught at the first occasion of +a trial for witchcraft to institute a reform in the morals of the +clergy. They sent forth a stern glance towards the close-shut +convent-world. A rare opportunity was offered by the strange +concurrence of many causes, by the fierce jealousies, the revengeful +longings which severed priest from priest. But for those mad passions +which ere long began to burst forth at every moment, we should have +gained no insight into the real lot of that great world of women who +died in those gloomy dwellings; not one word should we have heard of +the things that passed behind those parlour gratings, within those +mighty walls which only the confessor could overleap. + +The example of the Basque priest, whom Lancre presents to us as +worldly, trifling, going with his sword upon him, and his deaconess by +his side, to dance all night at the Sabbath, was not one to inspire +fear. It was not such as he whom the Inquisition took such pains to +screen, or towards whom a body so stern for others, proved itself, for +once, indulgent. It is easy to see through all Lancre's reticences +the existence of _something else_. And the States-General of 1614, +affirming that priests should not be tried by priests, are also +thinking of _something else_. This very mystery it is which gets torn +in twain by the Parliament of Provence. The director of nuns gaining +the mastery over them and disposing of them, body and soul, by means +of witchcraft,--such is the fact which comes forth from the trial of +Gauffridi; at a later date from the dreadful occurrences at Loudun and +Louviers; and also in the scenes described by Llorente, Ricci, and +several more. + +One common method was employed alike for reducing the scandal, for +misleading the public, for hiding away the inner fact while it was +busied with the outer aspects of it. On the trial of a priestly +wizard, all was done to juggle away the priest by bringing out the +wizard; to impute everything to the art of the magician, and put out +of sight the natural fascination wielded by the master of a troop of +women all abandoned to his charge. + +But there was no way of hushing up the first affair. It had been +noised abroad in all Provence, in a land of light, where the sun +pierces without any disguise. The chief scene of it lay not only in +Aix and Marseilles, but also in Sainte-Baume, the famous centre of +pilgrimage for a crowd of curious people, who thronged from all parts +of France to be present at a deadly duel between two bewitched nuns +and their demons. The Dominicans, who attacked the affair as +inquisitors, committed themselves by the noise they made about it +through their partiality for one of these nuns. For all the care +Parliament presently took to hurry the conclusion, these monks were +exceedingly anxious to excuse her and justify themselves. Hence the +important work of the monk Michaelis, a mixture of truth and fable; +wherein he raises Gauffridi, the priest he had sent to the flames, +into the Prince of Magicians, not only in France, but even in Spain, +Germany, England, Turkey, nay, in the whole inhabited earth. + +Gauffridi seems to have been a talented, agreeable man. Born in the +mountains of Provence, he had travelled much in the Low Countries and +the East. He bore the highest character in Marseilles, where he served +as priest in the Church of Acoules. His bishop made much of him: the +most devout of the ladies preferred him for their confessor. He had a +wondrous gift, they say, of endearing himself to all. Nevertheless, he +might have preserved his fair reputation had not a noble lady of +Provence, whom he had already debauched, carried her blind, doting +fondness to the extent of entrusting him, perhaps for her religious +training, with the care of a charming child of twelve, Madeline de la +Palud, a girl of fair complexion and gentle nature. Thereon, Gauffridi +lost his wits, and respected neither the youth nor the holy ignorance, +the utter unreserve of his pupil. + +As she grew older, however, the young highborn girl discovered her +misfortune, in loving thus beneath her, without hope of marriage. To +keep his hold on her, Gauffridi vowed he would wed her before the +Devil, if he might not wed her before God. He soothed her pride by +declaring that he was the Prince of Magicians, and would make her his +queen. He put on her finger a silver ring, engraved with magic +characters. Did he take her to the Sabbath, or only make her believe +she had been there, by confusing her with strange drinks and magnetic +witcheries? Certain it is, at least, that torn by two different +beliefs, full of uneasiness and fear, the girl thenceforth became mad +at certain times, and fell into fits of epilepsy. She was afraid of +being carried off alive by the Devil. She durst no longer stay in her +father's house, and took shelter in the Ursuline Convent at +Marseilles. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +GAUFFRIDI: 1610. + + +The order of Ursuline nuns seemed to be the calmest, the least +irrational of them all. They were not wholly idle, but found some +little employment in the bringing up of young girls. The Catholic +reaction which, aiming at a higher flight of ecstasy than was possible +at that time even in Spain, had foolishly built a number of convents, +Carmelite, Bernardine, and Capuchin, soon found itself at the end of +its motive-powers. The girls of whom people got rid by shutting them +up so strictly therein, died off immediately, and their swift decease +led to frightful statements of the cruelty shown by their families. +They perished, indeed, not by their excessive penances, but rather of +heart-sickness and despair. After the first heats of zeal were over, +the dreadful disease of the cloister, described by Cassieu as dating +from the fifteenth century, that crushing, sickening sadness which +came on of an afternoon--that tender listlessness which plunged them +into a state of unutterable exhaustion, speedily wore them away. A few +among them would turn as if raging mad, choking, as it were, with the +exceeding strength of their blood. + +A nun who hoped to die decently, without bequeathing too large a share +of remorse to her kindred, was bound to live on about ten years, the +mean term of life in the cloister. She needed to be let gently down; +and men of sense and experience felt that her days could only be +prolonged by giving her something to do, by leaving her not quite +alone. St. Francis of Sales[87] founded the Visitandine order, whose +duty it was to visit the sick in pairs. Caesar of Bus and Romillion, +who had established the Teaching Priests in connection with the +Oratorians[88], afterwards ordained what might be called the Teaching +Sisters, the Ursulines, who taught under the direction of the said +priests. The whole thing was under the supervision of the bishops, and +had very little of the monastic about it: the nuns were not shut up +again in cloisters. The Visitandines went out; the Ursulines received, +at any rate, their pupils' kinsfolk. Both of them had connection with +the world under guardians of good repute. The result was a certain +mediocrity. Though the Oratorians and the Doctrinaries numbered among +them persons of high merit, the general character of the order was +uniformly moderate, commonplace; it took care never to soar too high. +Romillion, founder of the Ursulines, was an oldish man, a convert +from Protestantism, who had roamed everywhere, and come back again to +his starting point. He deemed his young Provencials wise enough +already, and counted on keeping his little flock on the slender +pasturage of an Oratorian faith, at once monotonous and rational. And +being such, it came in time to be utterly wearisome. One fine morning +all had disappeared. + + [87] St. Francis of Sales, famous for his successful missions + among the Protestants, and Bishop of Geneva in his later + years, died in 1622.--TRANS. + + [88] The Brethren of the Oratory, founded at Rome in + 1564.--TRANS. + +Gauffridi, the mountaineer of Provence, the travelled mystic, the man +of strong feelings and restless mind, had quite another effect upon +them, when he came thither as Madeline's ghostly guide. They felt a +certain power, and by those who had already passed out of their wild, +amorous youth, were doubtless assured that it was nothing less than a +power begotten of the Devil. All were seized with fear, and more than +one with love also. Their imaginations soared high; their heads began +to turn. Already six or seven may be seen weeping, shrieking, yelling, +fancying themselves caught by the Devil. Had the Ursulines lived in +cloisters, within high walls, Gauffridi, being their only director, +might one way or another have made them all agree. As in the cloisters +of Quesnoy, in 1491, so here also it might have happened that the +Devil, who gladly takes the form of one beloved, had under that of +Gauffridi made himself lover-general to the nuns. Or rather, as in +those Spanish cloisters named by Llorente, he would have persuaded +them that the priestly office hallowed those to whom the priest made +love, that to sin with him, was only to be sanctified. A notion, +indeed, ripe through France, and even in Paris, where the mistresses +of priests were called "the hallowed ones."[89] + + [89] Lestoile, edit. Michaud, p. 561. + +Did Gauffridi, thus master of all, keep to Madeline only? Did not the +lover change into the libertine? We know not. The sentence points to a +nun who never showed herself during the trial, but reappeared at the +end, as having given herself up to the Devil and to him. + +The Ursuline convent was open to all visitors. The nuns were under the +charge of their Doctrinaries, men of fair character, and jealous +withal. The founder himself was there, indignant, desperate. How +woeful a mishap for the rising order, just as it was thriving amain +and spreading all over France! After all its pretensions to wisdom, +calmness, good sense, thus suddenly to go mad! Romillion would have +hushed up the matter if he could. He caused one of his priests to +exorcise the maidens. But the demons laughed the exorciser to scorn. +He who dwelt in the fair damsel, even the noble demon Beelzebub, +Spirit of Pride, never deigned to unclose his teeth. + +Among the possessed was one sister from twenty to twenty-five years +old, who had been specially adopted by Romillion; a girl of good +culture, bred up in controversy; a Protestant by birth, but left an +orphan, to fall into the hands of the Father, a convert like herself +from Protestantism. Her name, Louisa Capeau, sounds plebeian. She +showed herself but too clearly a girl of exceeding wit, and of a +raging passion. Her strength, moreover, was fearful to see. For three +months, in addition to the hellish storm within, she carried on a +desperate struggle, which would have killed the strongest man in a +week. + +She said she had three devils: Verrine, a good Catholic devil, a +volatile spirit of the air; Leviathan, a wicked devil, an arguer and a +Protestant; lastly, another, acknowledged by her to be the spirit of +uncleanness. One other she forgot to name, the demon of jealousy. + +She bore a savage hate to the little fair-faced damsel, the favoured +rival, the proud young woman of rank. This latter, in one of her fits, +had said that she went to the Sabbath, where she was made queen, and +received homage, and gave herself up, but only to the prince--"What +prince?" To Louis Gauffridi, prince of magicians. + +Pierced by this revelation as by a dagger, Louisa was too wild to +doubt its truth. Mad herself, she believed the mad woman's story in +order to ruin her. Her own devil was backed by all the jealous demons. +The women all exclaimed that Gauffridi was the very king of wizards. +The report spread everywhere, that a great prize had been taken, a +priest-king of magicians, even the prince of universal magic. Such was +the dreadful diadem of steel and flame which these feminine demons +drove into his brow. + +Everyone lost his head, even to old Romillion himself. Whether from +hatred of Gauffridi, or fear of the Inquisition, he took the matter +out of the bishop's hands, and brought his two bewitched ones, Louisa +and Madeline, to the Convent of Sainte-Baume, whose prior was the +Dominican Michaelis, papal inquisitor in the Pope's domain of Avignon, +and, as he himself pretended, over all Provence. The great point was +to get them exorcised. But as the two women were obliged to accuse +Gauffridi, the business ended in making him fall into the hands of the +Inquisition. + +Michaelis had to preach on Advent Sunday at Aix, before the +Parliament. He felt how much so striking a drama would exalt him. He +grasped at it with all the eagerness of a barrister in a Criminal +Court, when a very dramatic murder, or a curious case of adultery +comes before him. + +The right thing in matters of this sort was, to spin out the play +through Advent, Christmas, Lent, and burn no one before the Holy Week, +the vigil, as it were, of the great day of Easter. Michaelis kept +himself for the last act, entrusting the bulk of the business to a +Flemish Dominican in his service, Doctor Dompt, from Louvain, who had +already exorcised, was well-skilled in fooleries of that nature. + +The best thing the Fleming could do, was to do nothing. In Louisa, he +found a terrible helpmate, with thrice as much zeal in her as the +Inquisition itself, unquenchable in her rage, of a burning eloquence, +whimsical, and sometimes very odd, but always raising a shudder; a +very torch of Hell. + +The matter was reduced to a public duel between the two devils, Louisa +and Madeline. + +Some simple folk who came thither on a pilgrimage to Sainte-Baume, a +worthy goldsmith, for instance, and a draper, both from Troyes, in +Champagne, were charmed to see Louisa's devil deal such cruel blows at +the other demons, and give so sound a thrashing to the magicians. They +wept for joy, and went away thanking God. + +It is a terrible sight, however, even in the dull wording of the +Fleming's official statement, to look upon this unequal strife; to +watch the elder woman, the strong and sturdy Provencial, come of a +race hard as the flints of its native Crau, as day after day she +stones, knocks down, and crushes her young and almost childish victim, +who, wasted with love and shame, has already been fearfully punished +by her own distemper, her attacks of epilepsy. + +The Fleming's volume, which, with the additions made by Michaelis, +reaches to four hundred pages in all, is one condensed epitome of the +invectives, threats, and insults spewed forth by this young woman in +five months; interspersed with sermons also, for she used to preach on +every subject, on the sacraments, on the next coming of Antichrist, on +the frailty of women, and so forth. Thence, on the mention of her +devils, she fell into the old rage, and renewed twice a-day, the +execution of the poor little girl; never taking breath, never for one +minute staying the frightful torrent, until at least the other in her +wild distraction, "with one foot in hell"--to use her own +words--should have fallen into a convulsive fit, and begun beating the +flags with her knees, her body, her swooning head. + +It must be acknowledged that Louisa herself is a trifle mad: no amount +of mere knavishness would have enabled her to maintain so long a +wager. But her jealousy points with frightful clearness to every +opening by which she may prick or rend the sufferer's heart. + +Everything gets turned upside down. This Louisa, possessed of the +Devil, takes the sacrament whenever she pleases. She scolds people of +the highest authority. The venerable Catherine of France, the oldest +of the Ursulines, came to see the wonder, asked her questions, and at +the very outset caught her telling a flagrant and stupid falsehood. +The impudent woman got out of the mess by saying in the name of her +evil spirit, "The Devil is the Father of Lies." + +A sensible Minorite who was present, took up the word and said, "Now, +thou liest." Turning to the exorcisers, he added, "Cannot ye make her +hold her tongue?" Then he quoted to them the story of one Martha, a +sham demoniac of Paris. By way of answer, she was made to take the +communion before him. The Devil communicate, the Devil receive the +body of God! The poor man was bewildered; humbled himself before the +Inquisition. They were too many for him, so he said not another word. + +One of Louisa's tricks was to frighten the bystanders, by saying she +could see wizards among them; which made every one tremble for +himself. + +Triumphant over Sainte-Baume, she hits out even at Marseilles. Her +Flemish exorciser, being reduced to the strange part of secretary and +bosom-counsellor to the Devil, writes, under her dictation, five +letters: first, to the Capuchins of Marseilles, that they may call +upon Gauffridi to recant; second, to the same Capuchins, that they may +arrest Gauffridi, bind him fast with a stole, and keep him prisoner in +a house of her describing; thirdly, several letters to the moderate +party, to Catherine of France, to the Doctrinal Priests, who had +declared against her; and then this lewd, outrageous termagant ends +with insulting her own prioress: "When I left, you bade me be humble +and obedient. Now take back your own advice." + +Her devil Verrine, spirit of air and wind, whispered to her some +trivial nonsense, words of senseless pride which harmed friends and +foes, and the Inquisition itself. One day she took to laughing at +Michaelis, who was shivering at Aix, preaching in a desert while all +the world was gone to hear strange things at Sainte-Baume. "Michaelis, +you preach away, indeed, but you get no further forward; while Louisa +has reached, has caught hold of the quintessence of all perfection." + +This savage joy was mainly caused by her having quite conquered +Madeline at last. One word had done more for her than a hundred +sermons: "Thou shalt be burnt." Thenceforth in her distraction the +young girl said whatever the other pleased, and upheld her statements +in the meanest way. Humbling herself before them all, she besought +forgiveness of her mother, of her superior Romillion, of the +bystanders, of Louisa. According to the latter, the frightened girl +took her aside, and begged her to be merciful, not to chasten her too +much. + +The other woman, tender as a rock and merciful as a hidden reef, felt +that Madeline was now hers, to do whatever she might choose. She +caught her, folded her round, and bedazed her out of what little +spirit she had left. It was a second enchantment; but all unlike that +by Gauffridi, a _possession_ by means of terror. The poor downtrodden +wretch, moving under rod and scourge, was pushed onward in a path of +exquisite suffering which led her to accuse and murder the man she +loved still. + +Had Madeline stood out, Gauffridi would have escaped, for every one +was against Louisa. Michaelis himself at Aix, eclipsed by her as a +preacher, treated by her with so much coolness, would have stopped the +whole business rather than leave the honour of it in her hands. + +Marseilles supported Gauffridi, being fearful of seeing the +Inquisition of Avignon pushed into her neighbourhood, and one of her +own children carried off from her threshold. The Bishop and Chapter +were specially eager to defend their priest, maintaining that the +whole affair sprang from nothing but a rivalry between confessors, +nothing but the hatred commonly shown by monks towards secular +priests. + +The Doctrinaries would have quashed the matter. They were sore +troubled by the noise it made. Some of them in their annoyance were +ready to give up everything and forsake their house. + +The ladies were very wroth, especially Madame Libertat, the lady of +the Royalist leader who had given Marseilles up to the King. + +The Capuchins whom Louisa had so haughtily commanded to seize on +Gauffridi, were, like all other of the Franciscan orders, enemies of +the Dominicans. They were jealous of the prominence gained for these +latter by their demoniac friend. Their wandering life, moreover, by +throwing them into continual contact with the women, brought them a +good deal of moral business. They had no wish to see too close a +scrutiny made into the lives of clergymen; and so they also took the +side of Gauffridi. Demoniacs were not so scarce, but that one was +easily found and brought forward at the first summons. Her devil, +obedient to the rope-girdle of St. Francis, gainsaid everything said +by the Dominicans' devil: it averred--and the words were straightway +written down--that "Gauffridi was no magician at all, and could not +therefore be arrested." + +They were not prepared for this at Sainte-Baume. Louisa seemed +confounded. She could only manage to say that apparently the Capuchins +had not made their devil swear to tell the truth: a sorry reply, +backed up, however, by the trembling Madeline, who, like a beaten +hound that fears yet another beating, was ready for anything, ready +even to bite and tear. Through her it was that Louisa at such a crisis +inflicted an awful bite. + +She herself merely said that the Bishop was offending God unawares. +She clamoured against "the wizards of Marseilles" without naming any +one. But the cruel, the deadly word was spoken at her command by +Madeline. A woman who had lost her child two years before, was pointed +out by her as having throttled it. Afraid of being tortured, she fled +or hid herself. Her husband, her father, went weeping to Sainte-Baume, +hoping of course to soften the inquisitors. But Madeline durst not +unsay her words; so she renewed the charge. + +No one now could feel safe. As soon as the Devil came to be accounted +God's avenger, from the moment that people under his dictation began +writing the names of those who should pass through the fire, every one +had before him, day and night, the hideous nightmare of the stake. + +To withstand these bold attempts of the Papal Inquisition, Marseilles +ought to have been backed up by the Parliament of Aix. Unluckily she +knew herself to be little liked at Aix. That small official town of +magistrates and nobles was always jealous of the wealth and splendour +of Marseilles, the Queen of the South. On the other hand, the great +opponent of Marseilles, the Papal Inquisitor, forestalled Gauffridi's +appeal to the Parliament by carrying his own suit thither first. This +was a body of utter fanatics, headed by some heavy nobles, whose +wealth had been greatly increased in a former century by the massacre +of the Vaudois. As lay judges, too, they were charmed to see a Papal +Inquisitor set the precedent of acknowledging that, in a matter +touching a priest, in a case of witchcraft, the Inquisition could not +go beyond the preliminary inquiry. It was just as though the +inquisitors had formally laid aside their old pretensions. The people +of Aix, like those of Bordeaux before them, were also bitten by the +flattering thought, that these lay-folk had been set up by the Church +herself as censors and reformers of the priestly morals. + +In a business where all would needs be strange and miraculous, not +least among those marvels was it to see so raging a demon grow all at +once so fair-spoken towards the Parliament, so politic and +fine-mannered. Louisa charmed the Royalists by her praises of the late +King. Henry IV.--who would have thought it?--was canonized by the +Devil. One morning, without any invitation, he broke forth into +praises of "that pious and saintly King who had just gone up to +heaven." + +Such an agreement between two old enemies, the Parliament and the +Inquisition, which latter was thenceforth sure of the secular arm, its +soldiers, and executioner; this and the sending of a commission to +Sainte-Baume to examine the possessed, take down their statements, +hear their charges, and impannel a jury, made up a frightful business +indeed. Louisa openly pointed out the Capuchins, Gauffridi's +champions, and proclaimed "their coming punishment _temporally_" in +their bodies, and in their flesh. + +The poor Fathers were sorely bruised. Their devil would not whisper +one word. They went to find the Bishop, and told him that indeed they +might not refuse to bring Gauffridi forward at Sainte-Baume, in +obedience to the secular power; but afterwards the Bishop and Chapter +could claim him back, and replace him under the shelter of episcopal +justice. + +Doubtless they had also reckoned on the agitation that would be shown +by the two young women at the sight of one they loved; on the extent +to which even the terrible Louisa might be shaken by the reproaches of +her own heart. + +That heart indeed woke up at the guilty one's approach: for one moment +the furious woman seemed to grow tender. I know nothing more fiery +than her prayer for God to save the man she has driven to death: +"Great God, I offer thee all the sacrifices that have been offered +since the world began, that will be offered until it ends. All, all, +for Lewis. I offer thee all the tears of every saint, all the +transports of every angel. All, all, for Lewis. Oh, that there were +yet more souls to reckon up, that so the oblation might be all the +greater! It should be all for Lewis. O God, the Father of Heaven, have +pity on Lewis! O God the Son, Redeemer of the world, have pity on +Lewis!" &c. + +Bootless pity! baneful as well as bootless! Her real desire was that +the accused _should not harden his heart_, should plead guilty. In +that case by our laws he would most assuredly be burnt. + +She herself, in short, was worn out, unable to do anything more. The +inquisitor Michaelis was so humbled by a victory he could not have +gained without her, so wroth with the Flemish exorciser who had become +her obedient follower, and let her see into all the hidden springs of +the tragedy, that he came simply to crush Louisa, and save Madeline by +substituting the one for the other, if he could, in this popular +drama. This move of his implies some skill, and a knowing eye for +scenery. The winter and the Advent season had been wholly taken up +with the acting of that awful sibyl, that raging bacchante. In the +milder days of a Provencial spring, in the season of Lent, he would +bring upon the scene a more moving personage, a demon all womanly, +dwelling in a sick child, in a fair-haired frightened girl. The nobles +and the Parliament of Provence would feel an interest in a little lady +who belonged to an eminent house. + +Far from listening to his Flemish agent, Louisa's follower, Michaelis +shut the door upon him when he sought to enter the select council of +Parliament-men. A Capuchin who also came, on the first words spoken by +Louisa, cried out, "Silence, accursed devil!" + +Meanwhile Gauffridi had arrived at Sainte-Baume, where he cut a sorry +figure. A man of sense, but weak and blameworthy, he foreboded but too +truly how that kind of popular tragedy would end; and in coming to a +strait so dreadful, he saw himself forsaken and betrayed by the child +he loved. He now entirely forsook himself. When he was confronted with +Louisa, she seemed to him like a judge, like one of those cruel and +subtle schoolmen who judged the causes of the Church. To all her +questions concerning doctrine, he only answered _yes_, assenting even +to points most open to dispute; as, for instance, to the assumption +"that the Devil in a court of justice might be believed on his word +and his oath." + +This lasted only a week, from the 1st to the 8th January. The clergy +of Marseilles demanded Gauffridi back. His friends, the Capuchins, +declared that they had found no signs of magic in his room. Four +canons of Marseilles came with authority to take him, and carried him +away home. + +If Gauffridi had fallen very low, his adversaries had not risen much. +Even the two inquisitors, Michaelis and the Fleming, were in shameful +variance with each other. The partiality of the former for Madeline, +of the latter for Louisa, went beyond mere words, leading them into +opposite lines of action. That chaos of accusations, sermons, +revelations, which the Devil had dictated by the mouth of Louisa, the +Fleming who wrote it down maintained to be the very word of God, and +expressed his fear that somebody might tamper with the same. He owned +to a great mistrust of his chief, Michaelis, who, he was sore afraid, +would so amend the papers in behalf of Madeline, as to ensure the ruin +of Louisa. To guard them to the best of his power, he shut himself up +in his room and underwent a regular siege. Michaelis, with the +Parliament-men on his side, could only get at the manuscript by using +the King's name and breaking the door open. + +Louisa, afraid of nothing, sought to array the Pope against the King. +The Fleming carried an appeal to the legate at Avignon, against his +chief, Michaelis. But the Papal Court had a prudent fear of causing +scandal by letting one inquisitor accuse another. Lacking its support, +the Fleming had no resource but to submit. To keep him quiet Michaelis +gave him back his papers. + +Those of Michaelis, forming a second report, dull and nowise +comparable with the former, are full of nought but Madeline. They +played music to try and soothe her: care was taken to note down when +she ate, and when she did not eat. Too much time indeed was taken up +about her, often in a way but little edifying. Strange questions are +put to her touching the Magician, and what parts of his body might +bear the mark of the Devil. She herself was examined. This would have +to be done at Aix by surgeons and doctors; but meanwhile, in the +height of his zeal, Michaelis examined her at Sainte-Baume, and put +down the issue of his researches. No matron was called to see her. The +judges, lay and monkish, agreeing in this one matter, and having no +fear of each other's overlooking, seem to have quietly passed over +this contempt of outward forms. + +In Louisa, however, they found a judge. The bold woman branded the +indecency as with hot iron. "They who were swallowed up by the Flood +never behaved so ill!... Even of thee, O Sodom, the like was never +said!" + +She also averred that Madeline was given over to uncleanness. This was +the saddest thing of all. In her blind joy at being alive, at escaping +the flames, or else from some cloudy notion that it was her turn now +to act upon her judges, the poor simpleton would sing and dance at +times with a shameful freedom, in a coarse, indecent way. The old +Doctrinal father, Romillion, blushed for his Ursuline. Shocked to +remark the admiration of the men for her long hair, he said that such +a vanity must be taken from her, be cut away. + +In her better moments she was gentle and obedient. + +They would have liked to make her a second Louisa; but her devils were +vain and amorous; not, like the other's, eloquent and raging. When +they wanted her to preach, she could only utter sorry things. +Michaelis was fain to play out the piece by himself. As chief +inquisitor, and bound greatly to outdo his Flemish underling, he +avowed that he had already drawn out of this small body a host of six +thousand, six hundred, and sixty devils: only a hundred still +remained. By way of convincing the public, he made her throw up the +charm or spell which by his account she had swallowed, and he drew it +from her mouth in some slimy matter. Who could hold out any longer? +Assurance itself stood stupefied and convinced. + +Madeline was in a fair way to escape: the only hindrance was herself. +Every moment she would be saying something rash, something to arouse +the misgivings of her judges, and urge them beyond all patience. She +declared that everything to her recalled Gauffridi, that everywhere +she saw him present. Nor would she hide from them her dreams of love. +"To-night," she said, "I was at the Sabbath. To my statue all covered +with gilding the magicians offered their homage. Each of them, in +honour thereof, made oblation of some blood drawn from his hands with +a lancet. _He_ was also there, on his knees, a rope round his neck, +beseeching me to go back and betray him not. I held out. Then said he, +'Is there anyone here who would die for her?' 'I,' said a young man, +and he was sacrificed by the magician." + +At another time she saw him, and he asked her only for one of her fine +fair locks. "And when I refused, he said, 'Only the half of one +hair.'" + +She swore, however, that she never yielded. But one day, the door +happening to be open, behold our convert running off at the top of her +speed to rejoin Gauffridi! + +They took her again, at least her body. But her soul? Michaelis knew +not how to catch that again. Luckily he caught sight of her magic +ring, which was taken off, cut up, destroyed, and thrown into the +fire. Fancying, moreover, that this perverseness on the part of one so +gentle was due to unseen wizards who found their way into her room, he +set there a very substantial man at arms, with a sword to slash about +him everywhere, and cut the invisible imps into pieces. + +But the best physic for the conversion of Madeline was the death of +Gauffridi. On the 5th February, the inquisitor went to Aix for his +Lent preachings, saw the judges, and stirred them up. The Parliament, +swiftly yielding to such a pressure, sent off to Marseilles an order +to seize the rash man, who, finding himself so well backed by Bishop, +Chapter, Capuchins, and all the world, had fancied they would never +dare so far. + +Madeline from one quarter, Gauffridi from another, arrived at Aix. She +was so disturbed that they were forced to bind her. Her disorder was +frightful, and all were in great perplexity what to do. They bethought +them at least of one bold way of dealing with this sick child; one of +those fearful tricks that throw a woman into fits, and sometimes kill +her outright. A vicar-general of the archbishopric said that the +palace contained a dark narrow charnel-house, such as you may see in +the Escurial, and called in Spain a "rotting vat." + +There, in olden days, old bones of unknown dead were left to waste +away. Into this tomb-like cave the trembling girl was led. They +exorcised her by putting those chilly bones to her face. She did not +die of fright, but thenceforth gave herself up to their will and +pleasure; and so they got what they wanted, the death of the +conscience, the destruction of all that remained to her of moral +insight and free will. + +She became their pliant tool, ready to obey their least desire, to +flatter them, to try and guess beforehand what would give them most +pleasure. Huguenots were brought before her: she called them names. +Confronted with Gauffridi, she told forth by heart her grievances +against him, better than the King's own officers could have done. This +did not prevent her from squalling violently, when she was brought to +the church to excite the people against Gauffridi, by making her devil +blaspheme in the magician's name. Beelzebub speaking through her said, +"In the name of Gauffridi I abjure God;" and again, at the lifting up +of the Host, "Let the blood of the just be upon me, in the name of +Gauffridi!" + +An awful fellowship indeed! This twofold devil condemns one out of the +other's mouth; whatever Madeline says, is ascribed to Gauffridi. And +the scared crowd were impatient to behold the burning of the dumb +blasphemer, whose ungodliness so loudly declared itself by the voice +of the girl. + +The exorcisers then put to her this cruel question, to which they +themselves could have given the best answer:--"Why, Beelzebub, do you +speak so ill of your great friend?" Her answer was frightful: "If +there be traitors among men, why not among demons also? When I am with +Gauffridi, I am his to do all his will. But when you constrain me, I +betray him and turn him to scorn." + +However, she could not keep up this hateful mockery. Though the demon +of fear and fawning seemed to have gotten fast hold of her, there was +room still for despair. She could no longer take the slightest food; +and they who for five months had been killing her with exorcisms and +pretending to relieve her of six or seven thousand devils, were fain +to admit that she longed only to die, and greedily sought after any +means of self-destruction. Courage alone was wanting to her. Once she +pricked herself with a lancet, but lacked the spirit to persevere. +Once she caught up a knife, and when that was taken from her, tried to +strangle herself. She dug needles into her body, and then made one +last foolish effort to drive a long pin through her ear into her head. + +What became of Gauffridi? The inquisitor, who dwells so long on the +two women, says almost nothing about him. He walks as it were over +the fire. The little he does say is very strange. He relates that +having bound Gauffridi's eyes, they pricked him with needles all over +the body, to find out the callous places where the Devil had made his +mark. On the removal of the bandage, he learned, to his horror and +amazement, that the needle had thrice been stuck into him without his +feeling it; so he was marked in three places with the sign of Hell. +And the inquisitor added, "If we were in Avignon, this man should be +burnt to-morrow." + +He felt himself a lost man; and defended himself no more. His only +thought now was to see if he could save his life through any of the +Dominicans' foes. He wished, he said, to confess himself to the +Oratorians. But this new order, which might have been called the right +mean of Catholicism, was too cold and wary to take up a matter already +so hopeless and so far advanced. + +Thereon he went back again to the Begging Friars, confessing himself +to the Capuchins, and acknowledging all and more than all the truth, +that he might purchase life with dishonour. In Spain he would +assuredly have been enlarged, barring a term of penance in some +convent. But our Parliaments were sterner: they felt bound to prove +the greater purity of the lay jurisdiction. The Capuchins, themselves +a little shaky in the matter of morals, were not the people to draw +the lightning down on their own body. They surrounded Gauffridi, +sheltered him, gave him comfort day and night; but only in order that +he might own himself a magician, and so, because magic formed the main +head of his indictment, the seduction wrought by a confessor to the +great discredit of the clergy might be left entirely in the +background. + +So his friends the Capuchins, by dint of tender caresses and urgent +counsel, drew from him the fatal confession which, by their showing, +was to save his soul, but which was very certain to hand his body over +to the stake. + +The man thus lost and done for, they made an end with the girls whom +it was not their part to burn. A farcical scene took place. In a large +gathering of the clergy and the Parliament, Madeline was made to +appear, and, in words addressed to herself, her devil Beelzebub was +summoned to quit the place or else offer some opposition. Not caring +to do the latter, he went off in disgrace. + +Then Louisa, with her demon Verrine, was made to appear. But before +they drove away a spirit so friendly to the Church, the monks regaled +the Parliamentaries, who were new to such things, with the clever +management of this devil, making him perform a curious pantomime. "How +do the Seraphim, the Cherubim, the Thrones, behave before God?" "A +hard matter this:" says Louisa, "they have no bodies." But on their +repeating the command, she made an effort to obey, imitating the +flight of the one class, the fiery longing of the others; and ending +with the adoration, when she bowed herself before the judges, falling +prostrate with her head downwards. Then was the far-famed Louisa, so +proud and so untamable, seen to abase herself, kissing the pavement, +and with outstretched arms laying all her length thereon. + +It was a strange, frivolous, unseemly exhibition, by which she was +made to atone for her terrible success among the people. Once more she +won the assembly by dealing a cruel dagger-stroke at Gauffridi, who +stood there strongly bound. "Where," said they, "is Beelzebub now, the +devil who went out of Madeline?" "I see him plainly at Gauffridi's +ear." + +Have you had shame and horror enough? We should like further to know +what the poor wretch said, when put to the torture. Both the ordinary +and the extraordinary forms were used upon him. His revelations must +undoubtedly have thrown light on the curious history of the nunneries. +Those tales the Parliament stored up with greediness, as weapons that +might prove serviceable to itself; but it retained them "under the +seal of the Court." + +The inquisitor Michaelis, who was fiercely assailed in public for an +excess of animosity so closely resembling jealousy, was summoned by +his order to a meeting at Paris, and never saw the execution of +Gauffridi, who was burnt alive four days afterwards, 30th April, 1611, +at Aix. + +The name of the Dominicans, damaged by this trial, was not much +exalted by another case of _possession_ got up at Beauvais in such a +way as to ensure them all the honours of a war, the account of which +they got printed in Paris. Louisa's devil having been reproached for +not speaking Latin, the new demoniac, Denise Lacaille, mingled a few +words of it in her gibberish. They made a plenty of noise about her, +often displayed her in the midst of a procession, and even carried her +from Beauvais to Our Lady of Liesse. But the matter kept quite cool. +This Picard pilgrimage lacked the horror, the dramatic force of the +affair at Sainte-Baume. This Lacaille, for all her Latin, had neither +the burning eloquence, nor the mettle, nor the fierce rage, that +marked the woman of Provence. The only end of all her proceedings was +to amuse the Huguenots. + +What became of the two rivals, Madeline and Louisa? The former, or at +least her shadow, was kept on Papal ground, for fear of her being led +to speak about so mournful a business. She was never shown in public, +save in the character of a penitent. She was taken out among the poor +women to cut wood, which was afterwards sold for alms; the parents, +whom she had brought to shame, having forsworn and forsaken her. + +Louisa, for her part, had said during the trial: "I shall make no +boast about it. The trial over, I shall soon be dead." But this was +not to be. Instead of dying, she went on killing others. The +murdering devil within her waxed stormier than ever. She set about +revealing to the inquisitors the names, both Christian and surnames, +of all whom she fancied to have any dealings with magic; among others +a poor girl named Honoria, "blind of both eyes," who was burnt alive. + +"God grant," says Father Michaelis, in conclusion, "that all this may +redound to His own glory and to that of His Church!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE DEMONIACS OF LOUDUN--URBAN GRANDIER: 1632-1634. + + +In the _State Memoirs_, written by the famous Father Joseph, and known +to us by extracts only--the work itself having, no doubt, been wisely +suppressed as too instructive--the good Father explained how, in 1633, +he had the luck to discover a heresy, a huge heresy, in which ever so +many confessors and directors were concerned. That excellent army of +Church-constables, those dogs of the Holy Troop, the Capuchins, had, +not only in the wildernesses, but even in the populous parts of +France--at Chartres, in Picardy, everywhere--got scent of some +dreadful game; the _Alumbrados_ namely, or Illuminate, of Spain, who +being sorely persecuted there, had fled for shelter into France, +where, in the world of women, especially among the convents, they +dropped the gentle poison which was afterwards called by the name of +Molinos.[90] + + [90] Molinos, born at Saragossa in 1627, died a prisoner to + the Inquisition in 1696. His followers were called + Quietists.--TRANS. + +The wonder was, that the matter had not been sooner known. Having +spread so far, it could not have been wholly hidden. The Capuchins +swore that in Picardy alone, where the girls are weak and +warmer-blooded than in the South, this amorously mystic folly owned +some sixty thousand professors. Did all the clergy share in it--all +the confessors and directors? We must remember, that attached to the +official directors were a good many laymen, who glowed with the same +zeal for the souls of women. One of them, who afterwards made some +noise by his talent and boldness, is the author of _Spiritual +Delights_, Desmarets of Saint Sorlin. + + * * * * * + +Without remembering the new state of things, we should fail to +understand the all-powerful attitude of the director towards the nuns, +of whom he was now a hundred-fold more the master than he had been in +days of yore. + +The reforming movement of the Council of Trent, for the better +enclosing of monasteries, was not much followed up in the reign of +Henry IV., when the nuns received company, gave balls, danced, and so +forth. In the reign, however, of Louis XIII., it began afresh with +greater earnestness. The Cardinal Rochefoucauld, or rather the Jesuits +who drew him on, insisted on a great deal of outward decency. Shall we +say, then, that all entrance into the convents was forbidden? One man +only went in every day, not only into the house, but also, if he +chose, into each of the cells; a fact made evident from several known +cases, especially that of David at Louviers. By this reform, this +closing system, the door was shut upon the world at large, on all +inconvenient rivals, while the director enjoyed the sole command of +his nuns, the special right of private interviews with them. + +What would come of this? The speculative might treat it as a problem; +not so practical men or physicians. The physician Wyer tells some +plain stories to show what did come of it from the sixteenth century +onwards. In his Fourth Book he quotes a number of nuns who went mad +for love. And in Book III. he talks of an estimable Spanish priest +who, going by chance into a nunnery, came out mad, declaring that the +brides of Jesus were his also, brides of the priest, who was a vicar +of Jesus. He had masses said in return for the favour which God had +granted him in this speedy marriage with a whole convent. + +If this was the result of one passing visit, we may understand the +plight of a director of nuns when he was left alone with them, and +could take advantage of the new restrictions to spend the day among +them, listening hour by hour to the perilous secret of their +languishings and their weaknesses. + +In the plight of these girls the mere senses are not all in all. +Allowance must be made for their listlessness of mind; for the +absolute need of some change in their way of life; of some dream or +diversion to relieve their lifelong monotony. Strange things are +happening constantly at this period. Travels, events in the Indies, +the discovery of a world, the invention of printing: what romance +there is everywhere! While all this goes on without, putting men's +minds into a flutter, how, think you, can those within bear up against +the oppressive sameness of monastic life--the irksomeness of its +lengthy services, seasoned by nothing better than a sermon preached +through the nose? + + * * * * * + +The laity themselves, living amidst so many distractions, desire, nay +insist, that their confessors shall absolve them for their acts of +inconstancy. The priests, on their side, are drawn or forced on, step +by step. There grows up a vast literature, at once various and +learned, of casuistry, of the art of allowing all things; a +progressive literature, in which the indulgence of to-night seems to +become the severity of the morrow. + +This casuistry was meant for the world; that mysticism for the +convent. The annihilation of the person and the death of the will form +the great mystic principle. The true moral bearings of that principle +are well shown by Desmarets. "The devout," he says, "having offered up +and annihilated their own selves, exist no longer but in God. +_Thenceforth they can do no wrong._ The better part of them is so +divine that it no longer knows what the other is doing."[91] + + [91] An old doctrine which often turns up again in the Middle + Ages. In the seventeenth century it prevails among the + convents of France and Spain. A Norman angel, in the Louviers + business, teaches a nun to despise the body and disregard the + flesh, after the example of Jesus, who bared himself for a + scourging before all the people. He enforces an utter + surrendering of the soul and the will by the example of the + Virgin, "who obeyed the angel Gabriel and conceived, without + risk of evil, for impurity could not come of a spirit." At + Louviers, David, an old director of some authority, taught + "that sin could be killed by sin, as the better way of + becoming innocent again." + +It might have been thought that the zealous Joseph who had raised so +loud a cry of alarm against these corrupt teachers, would have gone +yet further; that a grand searching inquiry would have taken place; +that the countless host whose number, in one province only, were +reckoned at sixty thousand, would be found out and closely examined. +But not so: they disappear, and nothing more is known about them. A +few, it is said, were imprisoned; but trial there was none: only a +deep silence. To all appearance Richelieu cared but little about +fathoming the business. In his tenderness for the Capuchins he was not +so blind as to follow their lead in a matter which would have thrown +the supervision of all confessors into their hands. + +As a rule, the monks had a jealous dislike of the secular clergy. +Entire masters of the Spanish women, they were too dirty to be +relished by those of France; who preferred going to their own priests +or to some Jesuit confessor, an amphious creature, half monk, half +worldling. If Richelieu had once let loose the pack of Capuchins, +Recollects, Carmelites, Dominicans, &c., who among the clergy would +have been safe? What director, what priest, however upright, but had +used, and used amiss, the gentle language of the Quietists towards +their penitents? + +Richelieu took care not to trouble the clergy, while he was already +bringing about the General Assembly from which he was soon to ask a +contribution towards the war. One trial alone was granted the monks, +the trial of a vicar, but a vicar who dealt in magic; a trial wherein +matters were allowed, as in the case of Gauffridi, to get so +entangled, that no confessor, no director, saw his own likeness there, +but everyone in full security could say, "This is not I." + + * * * * * + +Thanks to these strict precautions the Grandier affair is involved in +some obscurity.[92] Its historian, the Capuchin Tranquille, proves +convincingly that Grandier was a wizard, and, still more, a devil; and +on the trial he is called, as Ashtaroth might have been called, +_Grandier of the Dominations_. On the other hand, Menage is ready to +rank him with great men accused of magic, with the martyrs of free +thought. + + [92] The _History of the Loudun Devils_, by the Protestant + Aubin, is an earnest, solid book, confirmed by the _Reports_ + of Laubardemont himself. That of the Capuchin Tranquille is a + piece of grotesquerie. The _Proceedings_ are in the Great + Library of Paris. M. Figuier has given a long and excellent + account of the whole affair, in his _History of the + Marvellous_. + +In order to see a little more clearly, we must not set Grandier by +himself; we must keep his place in the devilish trilogy of those +times, in which he figured only as a second act; we must explain him +by the first act, already shown to us in the dreadful business of +Sainte-Baume, and the death of Gauffridi; we must explain him by the +third act, by the affair at Louviers, which copied Loudun, as Loudun +had copied Sainte-Baume, and which in its turn owned a Gauffridi and +an Urban Grandier. + +The three cases are one and selfsame. In each case there is a +libertine priest, in each a jealous monk, and a frantic nun by whose +mouth the Devil is made to speak; and in all three the priest gets +burnt at last. + +And here you may notice one source of light which makes these matters +clearer to our eyes than if we saw them through the miry shades of a +monastery in Spain or Italy. In those lands of Southern laziness, the +nuns were astoundingly passive, enduring the life of the seraglio and +even worse.[93] Our French women, on the contrary, gifted with a +personality at once strong, lively, and hard to please, were equally +dreadful in their jealousy and in their hate; and being devils indeed +without metaphor, were accordingly rash, blusterous, and prompt to +accuse. Their revelations were very plain, so plain indeed at the +last, that everyone felt ashamed; and after thirty years and three +special cases, the whole thing, begun as it was through terror, got +fairly extinguished in its own dulness beneath hisses of general +disgust. + + [93] See Del Rio, Llorente Ricci, &c. + +It was not in Loudun, amidst crowds of Poitevins, in the presence of +so many scoffing Huguenots, in the very town where they held their +great national synods, that one would have looked for an event so +discreditable to the Catholics. But these latter, living, as it were, +in a conquered country,[94] in the old Protestant towns, with the +greatest freedom, and thinking, not without cause, of the people they +had often massacred and but lately overcome, were not the persons to +say a word about it. Catholic Loudun, composed of magistrates, +priests, monks, a few nobles, and some workmen, dwelled aloof from the +rest, like a true conquering settlement. This settlement, as one might +easily guess, was rent in twain by the rivalry of the priests and the +monks. + + [94] The capture of Rochelle, the last of the Huguenot + strongholds took place in 1628.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +The monks, being numerous and proud, as men specially sent forth to +make converts, kept the pick of the pavement against the Protestants, +and were confessing the Catholic ladies, when there arrived from +Bordeaux a young vicar, brought up by the Jesuits, a man of letters, +of pleasing manners, who wrote well and spoke better. He made a noise +in the pulpit, and ere long in the world. By birth a townsman of +Mantes, of a wrangling turn, he was Southern by education, with all +the readiness of a Bordelais, boastful and frivolous as a Gascon. He +soon managed to set the whole town by the ears, drawing the women to +his side, while the men were mostly against him. He became lofty, +insolent, unbearable, devoid of respect for everything. The Carmelites +he overwhelmed with jibes; he would rail away from his pulpit against +monks in general. They choked with rage at his sermons. Proud and +stately, he went along the streets of Loudun like a Father of the +Church; but by night he would steal, with less of bluster, down the +byeways and through back-doors. + +They all surrendered themselves to his pleasure. The wife of the Crown +Counsel was aware of his charms; still more so the daughter of the +Public Prosecutor, who had a child by him. This did not satisfy him. +Master of the ladies, this conqueror pushed his advantage until he had +gained the nuns. + +By that time the Ursulines abounded everywhere, sisters devoted to +education, feminine missionaries in a Protestant land, who courted and +pleased the mothers, while they won over the little girls. The nuns of +Loudun formed a small convent of young ladies, poor and well-born. The +convent in itself was poor, the nuns for whom it was founded, having +been granted nothing but their house, an old Huguenot college. The +prioress, a lady of good birth and high connections, burned to exalt +her nunnery, to enlarge it, make it wealthier and wider known. Perhaps +she would have chosen Grandier, as being then the fashion, had she not +already gotten for her director a priest with very different rootage +in the country, a near kinsman of the two chief magistrates. The +Canon Mignon, as he was called, held the prioress fast. These two were +enraged at learning through the confessional--the "Ladies Superior" +might confess their nuns--that the young nuns dreamed of nothing but +this Grandier, of whom there was so much talk. + +Thereupon three parties, the threatened director, the cheated husband, +the outraged father, joined together by a common jealousy, swore +together the destruction of Grandier. To ensure success, they only +needed to let him go on. He was ruining himself quite fast enough. An +incident that came to light made noise enough almost to bring down the +town. + + * * * * * + +The nuns placed in that old Huguenot mansion, were far from easy in +their minds. Their boarders, children of the town, and perhaps also +some of the younger nuns, had amused themselves with frightening the +rest by playing at ghosts and apparitions. Little enough of order was +there among this throng of rich spoilt girls. They would run about the +passages at night, until they frightened themselves. Some of them were +sick, or else sick at heart. But these fears and fancies mingled with +the gossip of the town, of which they heard but too much during the +day, until the ghost by night took the form of Grandier himself. +Several said they saw him, felt him near them in the night, and +yielded unawares to his bold advances. Was all this fancy, or the fun +of novices? Had Grandier bribed the porteress or ventured to climb +the walls? This part of the business was never cleared up. + +From that time the three felt sure of catching him. And first, among +the small folk under their protection, they stirred up two good souls +to declare that they could no longer keep as vicar a profligate, a +wizard, a devil, a freethinker, who bent one knee in church instead of +two, who scoffed at rules and granted dispensations contrary to the +rights of the Bishop. A shrewd accusation, which turned against him +his natural defender, the Bishop of Poitiers, and delivered him over +to the fury of the monks. + +To say truth, all this was planned with much skill. Besides raising up +two poor people as accusers, they thought it advisable to have him +cudgelled by a noble. In those days of duelling a man who let himself +be cudgelled with impunity lost ground with the public, and sank in +the esteem of the women. Grandier deeply felt the blow. Fond of making +a noise in all cases, he went to the King, threw himself on his knees, +and besought vengeance for the insult to his gown. From so devout a +king he might have gained it; but here there chanced to be some +persons who told the King that it was all an affair of love, the fury +of a betrayed husband wreaking itself on his foe. + +At the spiritual court of Poitiers, Grandier was condemned to do +penance, to be banished from Loudun, and disgraced as a priest. But +the civil court took up the matter and found him innocent. He had +still to await the orders of him by whom Poitiers was spiritually +overruled, Sourdis, Archbishop of Bordeaux. That warlike prelate, an +admiral and brave sailor more than a priest, shrugged his shoulders on +hearing of such peccadilloes. He acquitted the vicar, but at the same +time wisely recommended him to go and live anywhere out of Loudun. + +This the proud man did not care to do. He wanted to enjoy his triumph +on the very field of battle, to show off before the ladies. He came +back to Loudun in broad day, with mighty noise; the women all looking +out of window, as he went by with a laurel-branch in his hand. + + * * * * * + +Not satisfied with that piece of folly, he began to threaten, to +demand reparation. Thus pushed and imperilled in their turn, his +enemies called to remembrance the affair of Gauffridi, where the +Devil, the Father of Lies, was restored to his honours and accepted in +a court of justice as a right truthful witness, worthy of belief on +the side of the Church, worthy of belief on the side of His Majesty's +servants. In despair they invoked a devil and found one at their +command. He showed himself among the Ursulines. + +A dangerous thing; but then, how many were nearly concerned in its +success! The prioress saw her poor humble convent suddenly attracting +the gaze of the Court, of the provinces, of all the world. The monks +saw themselves victorious over their rivals the priests. They pictured +anew those popular battles waged with the Devil in a former century, +and often, as at Soissons, before the church doors; the terror of the +people, and their joy at the triumph of the Good Spirit; the +confession drawn from the Devil touching God's presence in the +Sacrament; and the humiliation of the Huguenots at being refuted by +the Demon himself. + +In these tragi-comedies the exorciser represented God, or at any rate +the Archangel, overthrowing the dragon. He came down from the platform +in utter exhaustion, streaming with sweat, but victorious, to be borne +away in the arms of the crowd, amidst the blessings of good women who +shed tears of joy the while. + +Therefore it was that in these trials a dash of witchcraft was always +needful. The Devil alone roused the interest of the vulgar. They could +not always see him coming out of a body in the shape of a black toad, +as at Bordeaux in 1610. But it was easy to make it up to them by a +grand display of splendid stage scenery. The affair of Provence owed +much of its success to Madeline's desolate wildness and the terror of +Sainte-Baume. Loudun was regaled with the uproar and the bacchanal +frenzy of a host of exorcisers distributed among several churches. +Lastly, Louviers, as we shall presently see, put a little new life +into this fading fashion by inventing midnight scenes, in which the +demons who possessed the nuns began digging by the glimmer of torches, +until they drew forth certain charms from the holes wherein they had +been concealed. + + * * * * * + +The Loudun business began with the prioress and a lay sister of hers. +They had convulsive fits, and talked infernal gibberish. Other of the +nuns began copying them, one bold girl especially taking up Louisa's +part at Marseilles, with the same devil Leviathan, the leading demon +of trickery and evil speaking. + +The little town was all in a tremble. Monks of every hue provided +themselves with nuns, shared them all round, and exorcised them by +threes and fours. The churches were parcelled out among them; the +Capuchins alone taking two for themselves. The crowd go after them, +swollen by all the women in the place, and in this frightened +audience, throbbing with anxiety, more than one cries out that she, +too, is feeling the devils.[95] Six girls of the town are possessed. +And the bare recital of these alarming events begets two new cases of +possession at Chinon. + + [95] The same hysteric contagion marks the "Revivals" of a + later period, down to the last mad outbreak in Ireland. The + translator hopes some day to work out the physical question + here stated.--TRANS. + +Everywhere the thing was talked of, at Paris, at the Court. Our +Spanish queen,[96] who is imaginative and devout, sends off her +almoner; nay more, sends her faithful follower, the old papist, Lord +Montague, who sees, who believes everything, and reports it all to the +Pope. It is a miracle proven. He had seen the wounds on a certain nun, +and the marks made by the Devil on the Lady Superior's hands. + + [96] Anne of Austria, wife of Louis XIII.--TRANS. + +What said the King of France to this? All his devotion was turned on +the Devil, on hell, on thoughts of fear. It is said that Richelieu was +glad to keep him thus. I doubt it; the demons were essentially +Spanish, taking the Spanish side: if ever they talked politics, they +must have spoken against Richelieu. Perhaps he was afraid of them. At +any rate, he did them homage, and sent his niece to prove the interest +he took in the matter. + + * * * * * + +The Court believed, but Loudun itself did not. Its devils, but sorry +imitators of the Marseilles demons, rehearsed in the morning what they +had learnt the night before from the well-known handbook of Father +Michaelis. They would never have known what to say but for the secret +exorcisms, the careful rehearsal of the day's farce, by which night +after night they were trained to figure before the people. + +One sturdy magistrate, bailiff of the town, made a stir: going himself +to detect the knaves, he threatened and denounced them. Such, too, was +the tacit opinion of the Archbishop of Bordeaux, to whom Grandier +appealed. He despatched a set of rules for the guidance at least of +the exorcisers, for putting a stop to their arbitrary doings; and, +better still, he sent his surgeon, who examined the girls, and found +them to be neither bewitched, nor mad, nor even sick. What were they +then? Knaves, to be sure.[97] + + [97] Not of necessity knaves, Mr. Michelet; at least not + wilfully so; but silly hysteric patients, of the + spirit-rapping, revivalist order, victims of nervous + derangement, or undue nervous sensibility.--TRANS. + +So through the century keeps on this noble duel between the Physician +and the Devil, this battle of light and knowledge with the dark shades +of falsehood. We saw its beginning in Agrippa and Wyer. Doctor Duncan +carried it bravely on at Loudun, and fearlessly impressed on others +the belief that this affair was nothing but a farce. + +For all his alleged resistance, the Demon was frightened, held his +tongue, quite lost his voice. But people's passions had been too +fiercely roused for the matter to end there. The tide flowed again so +strongly in favour of Grandier, that the assailed became in their turn +assailants. An apothecary of kin to the accusers was sued by a rich +young lady of the town for speaking of her as the vicar's mistress. He +was condemned to apologise for his slander. + +The prioress was a lost woman. It would have been easy to prove, what +one witness afterwards saw, that the marks upon her were made with +paint renewed daily. But she was kinswoman to one of the King's +judges, Laubardemont, and he saved her. He was simply charged to +overthrow the strong places of Loudun. He got himself commissioned to +try Grandier. The Cardinal was given to understand that the accused +was vicar and friend of the _Loudun shoemaker_,[98] was one of the +numerous agents of Mary of Medici, had made himself his parishioner's +secretary, and written a disgraceful pamphlet in her name. + + [98] A woman named Hammon, of low birth, who entered the + service, and rose high in the good graces of Mary of Medici. + See Dumas' _Celebrated Crimes_.--TRANS. + +Richelieu, for his part, would have liked to show a high-minded scorn +of the whole business, if he could have done so with safety to +himself. The Capuchins and Father Joseph had an eye to that also. +Richelieu would have given them a fine handle against him with the +King, had he displayed a want of zeal. One Quillet, after much grave +reflection, went to see the Minister and give him warning. But the +other, afraid to listen, regarded him with so stern a gaze that the +giver of advice deemed it prudent to seek shelter in Italy. + + * * * * * + +Laubardemont arrived at Loudun on the 6th December, 1633, bringing +along with him great fear, and unbounded powers; even those of the +King himself. The whole strength of the kingdom became, as it were, a +dreadful bludgeon to crush one little fly. + +The magistrates were wroth; the civic lieutenant warned Grandier that +he would have to arrest him on the morrow. The latter paid no heed to +him, and was arrested accordingly. In a moment he was carried off, +without form of trial, to the dungeons of Angers. Presently he was +taken back and thrown, where think you? Into the house, the room of +one of his enemies, who had the windows walled up so as well-nigh to +choke him. The loathsome scrutiny of the wizard's body, in order to +find out the Devil's marks by sticking needles all over it, was +carried on by the hands of the accusers themselves, who took their +revenge upon him beforehand in the foretaste thus given him of his +future punishment. + +They led him to the churches, confronted him with the girls, who had +got their cue from Laubardemont. These Bacchanals, for such they +became under the fuddling effect of some drugs administered by the +condemned apothecary above-named, flung out in such frantic rages, +that Grandier was nearly perishing one day beneath their nails. + +Unable to imitate the eloquence of the Marseilles demoniac, they tried +obscenity in its stead. It was a hideous thing to see these girls give +full vent in public to their sensual fury, on the plea of scolding +their pretended devils. Thus indeed it was that they managed to swell +their audiences. People flocked to hear from the lips of these women +what no woman would else have dared to utter. + +As the matter grew more hateful, so it also grew more laughable. They +were sure to repeat all awry what little Latin was ever whispered to +them. The public found that the devils had never gone through _their +lower classes_. The Capuchins, however, coolly said that if these +demons were weak in Latin, they were marvellous speakers of Iroquois +and Tupinambi.[99] + + [99] Indians of the coast of Brazil.--TRANS. + + * * * * * + +A farce so shameful, seen from a distance of sixty leagues, from St. +Germain or the Louvre, appeared miraculous, awful, terrifying. The +Court admired and trembled. Richelieu to please them did a cowardly +thing. He ordered money to be paid to the exorcisers, to the nuns. + +The height of favour to which they had risen, drove the plotters +altogether mad. Senseless words were followed by shameful deeds. +Pleading that the nuns were tired, the exorcisers got them outside the +town, took them about by themselves. One of them, at least to all +appearance, returned pregnant. In the fifth or sixth month all outward +trace of it disappeared, and the devil within her acknowledged how +wickedly he had slandered the poor nun by making her look so large. +This tale concerning Loudun we learn from the historian of +Louviers.[100] + + [100] Esprit de Bosroger, p. 135. + +It is stated that Father Joseph, after a secret journey to the spot, +saw to what end the matter was coming, and noiselessly backed out of +it. The Jesuits also went, tried their exorcisms, did next to nothing, +got scent of the general feeling, and stole off in like manner. + +But the monks, the Capuchins, were gone so far, that they could only +save themselves by frightening others. They laid some treacherous +snares for the daring bailiff and his wife, seeking to destroy them, +and thereby quench the coming reaction of justice. Lastly, they urged +on the commissioners to despatch Grandier. Things could be carried no +further: the nuns themselves were slipping out of their hands. After +that dreadful orgie of sensual rage and immodest shouting in order to +obtain the shedding of human blood, two or three of them swooned away, +were seized with disgust and horror; vomited up their very selves. +Despite the hideous doom that awaited them if they spoke the truth, +despite the certainty of ending their days in a dungeon, they owned in +church that they were damned, that they had been playing with the +Devil, and Grandier was innocent. + + * * * * * + +They ruined themselves, but could not stay the issue. A general +protest by the town to the King failed to stay it also. On the 18th +August, 1634, Grandier was condemned to the stake. So violent were his +enemies that, for the second time before burning him, they insisted on +having him stuck with needles in order to find out the Devil's marks. +One of his judges would have had even his nails torn out of him, had +not the surgeon withheld his leave. + +They were afraid of the last words their victim might say on the +scaffold. Among his papers there had been found a manuscript +condemning the celibacy of priests, and those who called him a wizard +themselves believed him to be a freethinker. They remembered the brave +words which the martyrs of free thought had thrown out against their +judges; they called to mind the last speech of Giordano Bruno, the +bold defiance of Vanini.[101] So they agreed with Grandier, that if he +were prudent, he should be saved from burning, perhaps be strangled. +The weak priest, being a man of flesh, yielded to this demand of the +flesh, and promised to say nothing. He spoke not a word on the road, +nor yet upon the scaffold. When he was fairly fastened to the post, +with everything ready, and the fire so arranged as to enfold him +swiftly in smoke and flames, his own confessor, a monk, set the +faggots ablaze without waiting for the executioner. The victim, +pledged to silence, had only time to say, "So, you have deceived me!" +when the flames whirled fiercely upwards, and the furnace of pain +began, and nothing was audible save the wretch's screams. + + [101] Both Neapolitans, burnt alive, the former at Venice in + 1600, the latter at Toulouse in 1619.--TRANS. + +Richelieu in his Memoirs says little, and that with evident shame, +concerning this affair. He gives one to believe that he only followed +the reports that reached him, the voice of general opinion. +Nevertheless, by rewarding the exorcisers, by throwing the reins to +the Capuchins, and letting them triumph over France, he gave no slight +encouragement to that piece of knavery. Gauffridi, thus renewed in +Grandier, is about to reappear in yet fouler plight in the Louviers +affair. + +In this very year, 1634, the demons hunted from Poitou pass over into +Normandy, copying again and again the fooleries of Sainte-Baume, +without any trace of invention, of talent, or of imagination. The +frantic Leviathan of Provence, when counterfeited at Loudun, loses his +Southern sting, and only gets out of a scrape by talking fluently to +virgins in the language of Sodom. Presently, alas! at Louviers he +loses even his old daring, imbibes the sluggish temper of the North, +and sinks into a sorry sprite.[102] + + [102] Wright and Dumas both differ from M. Michelet in their + view of Urban Grandier's character. The latter especially, + regards him as an innocent victim to his own fearlessness and + the hate of his foes, among whom not the least deadly was + Richelieu himself, who bore him a deep personal + grudge.--TRANS. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE DEMONIACS OF LOUVIERS--MADELINE BAVENT: 1633-1647. + + +Had Richelieu allowed the inquiry demanded by Father Joseph into the +doings of the Illuminate Confessors, some strange light would have +been thrown into the depth of the cloisters, on the daily life of the +nuns. Failing that, we may still learn from the Louviers story, which +is far more instructive than those of Aix and Loudun, that, +notwithstanding the new means of corruption furnished by Illuminism, +the director still resorted to the old trickeries of witchcraft, of +apparitions, heavenly or infernal, and so forth.[103] + + [103] It was very easy to cheat those who wished to be + cheated. By this time celibacy was harder to practise than in + the Middle Ages, the number of fasts and bloodlettings being + greatly reduced. Many died from the nervous plethora of a + life so cruelly sluggish. They made no secret of their + torments, owning them to their sisters, to their confessor, + to the Virgin herself. A pitiful thing, a thing to sorrow + for, not to ridicule. In Italy, a nun besought the Virgin for + pity's sake to grant her a lover. + +Of the three directors successively appointed to the Convent of +Louviers in the space of thirty years, David, the first, was an +Illuminate, who forestalled Molinos; the second, Picart, was a wizard +dealing with the Devil; and Boulle, the third, was a wizard working +in the guise of an angel. + +There is an excellent book about this business; it is called _The +History of Magdalen Bavent_, a nun of Louviers; with her Examination, +&c., 1652: Rouen.[104] The date of this book accounts for the thorough +freedom with which it was written. During the wars of the Fronde, a +bold Oratorian priest, who discovered the nun in one of the Rouen +prisons, took courage from her dictation to write down the story of +her life. + + [104] I know of no book more important, more dreadful, or + worthier of being reprinted. It is the most powerful + narrative of its class. _Piety Afflicted_, by the Capuchin + Esprit de Bosroger, is a work immortal in the annals of + tomfoolery. The two excellent pamphlets by the doughty + surgeon, Yvelin, the _Inquiry_ and the _Apology_, are in the + Library of Ste. Genevieve. + +Born at Rouen in 1607, Madeline was left an orphan at nine years old. +At twelve she was apprenticed to a milliner. The confessor, a +Franciscan, held absolute sway in the house of this milliner, who as +maker of clothes for the nuns, was dependent on the Church. The monk +caused the apprentices, whom he doubtless made drunk with belladonna +and other magical drinks, to believe that they had been taken to the +Sabbath and there married to the devil Dagon. Three were already +possessed by him, and Madeline at fourteen became the fourth. + +She was a devout worshipper, especially of St. Francis. A Franciscan +monastery had just been founded at Louviers, by a lady of Rouen, widow +of lawyer Hennequin, who was hanged for cheating. She hoped by this +good deed of hers to help in saving her husband's soul. To that end +she sought counsel of a holy man, the old priest David, who became +director to the new foundation. Standing at the entrance of the town, +with a wood surrounding it, this convent, born of so tragical a +source, seemed quite gloomy and poor enough for a place of stern +devotion. David was known as author of a _Scourge for Rakes_, an odd +and violent book against the abuses that defiled the Cloister.[105] +All of a sudden this austere person took up some very strange ideas +concerning purity. He became an Adamite, preached up the nakedness of +Adam in his days of innocence. The docile nuns of Louviers sought to +subdue and abase the novices, to break them into obedience, by +insisting--of course in summer-time--that these young Eves should +return to the plight of their common mother. In this state they were +sent out for exercise in some secluded gardens, and were taken into +the chapel itself. Madeline, who at sixteen had come to be received as +a novice, was too proud, perhaps in those days too pure also, to +submit to so strange a way of life. She got an angry scolding for +having tried at communion to hide her bosom with the altar-cloth. + + [105] See Floquet; _Parliament of Normandy_, vol. v. p. 636. + +Not less unwilling was she to uncover her soul, to confess to the Lady +Superior, after the usual monastic custom of which the abbesses were +particularly fond. She would rather trust herself with old David, who +kept her apart from the rest. He himself confided his own ailments +into her ear. Nor did he hide from her his inner teaching, the +Illuminism, which governed the convent: "You must kill sin by being +made humble and lost to all sense of pride through sin." Madeline was +frightened at the depths of depravity reached by the nuns, who quietly +carried out the teaching with which they had been imbued. She avoided +their company, kept to herself, and succeeded in getting made one of +the doorkeepers. + + * * * * * + +David died when she was eighteen. Old age prevented his going far with +the girl. But the vicar Picart, who succeeded him, was furious in his +pursuit of her; at the confessional spoke to her only of his love. He +made her his sextoness, that he might meet her alone in chapel. She +liked him not; but the nuns forbade her to have another confessor, +lest she might divulge their little secrets. And thus she was given +over to Picart. He beset her when she was sick almost to death; +seeking to frighten her by insisting that from David he had received +some infernal prescriptions. He sought to win her compassion by +feigning illness and begging her to come and see him. Thenceforth he +became her master, upset her mind with magic potions, and worked her +into believing that she had gone with him to the Sabbath, there to +officiate as altar and victim. At length, exceeding even the Sabbath +usages and daring the scandal that would follow, he made her to be +with child. + +The nuns were afraid of one who knew the state of their morals; and +their interest also bound them to him. The convent was enriched by his +energy, his good repute, the alms and gifts he attracted towards it +from every quarter. He was building them a large church. We saw in the +Loudun business by what rivalries and ambitions these houses were led +away, how jealously they strove each to outdo the others. Through the +trust reposed in him by the wealthy, Picart saw himself raised into +the lofty part of benefactor and second founder of the convent. +"Sweetheart," he said to Madeline, "that noble church is all my +building! After my death you will see wonders wrought there. Do you +not agree to that?" + +This fine gentleman did not put himself out at all regarding Madeline. +He paid a dowry for her, and made a nun of her who was already a +lay-sister. Thus, being no longer a doorkeeper, she could live in one +of the inner rooms, and there be brought to bed at her convenience. By +means of certain drugs, and practices of their own, the convents could +do without the help of doctors. Madeline said that she was delivered +several times. She never said what became of the newly-born. + +Picart being now an old man, feared lest Madeline might in her +fickleness fly off some day, and utter words of remorse to another +confessor. So he took a detestable way of binding her to himself +beyond recall, by forcing her to make a will in which she promised "to +die when he died, and to be wherever he was." This was a dreadful +thought for the poor soul. Must she be drawn along with him into the +bottomless pit? Must she go down with him, even into hell? She deemed +herself for ever lost. Become his property, his mere tool, she was +used and misused by him for all kinds of purposes. He made her do the +most shameful things. He employed her as a magical charm to gain over +the rest of the nuns. A holy wafer steeped in Madeline's blood, and +buried in the garden, would be sure to disturb their senses and their +minds. + +This was the very year in which Urban Grandier was burnt. Throughout +France, men spoke of nothing but the devils of Loudun. The +Penitentiary of Evreux, who had been one of the actors on that stage, +carried the dreadful tale back with him to Normandy. Madeline fancied +herself bewitched and knocked about by devils; followed about by a +lewd cat with eyes of fire. By degrees, other nuns caught the +disorder, which showed itself in odd supernatural jerks and writhings. +Madeline had besought aid of a Capuchin, afterwards of the Bishop of +Evreux. The prioress was not sorry for a step of which she must have +been aware, for she saw what wealth and fame a like business had +brought to the Convent of Loudun. But for six years the bishop turned +a deaf ear to the prayer, doubtless through fear of Richelieu, who was +then at work on a reform of the cloisters. + +Richelieu wanted to bring these scandals to an end. It was not till +his own death, and that of Louis XIII., during the break-up which +followed on the rule of the Queen and Mazarin, that the priests again +betook themselves to working wonders, and waging war with the Devil. +Picart being dead, they were less shy of a matter in which so +dangerous a man might have accused others in his turn. They met the +visions of Madeline, by looking out a visionary for themselves. They +got admission into the convent for a certain Sister Anne of the +Nativity, a girl of sanguine, hysteric temperament, frantic at need +and half-mad, so far at least as to believe in her own lies. A kind of +dogfight was got up between the two. They besmeared each other with +false charges. Anne saw the Devil quite naked, by Madeline's side. +Madeline swore to seeing Anne at the Sabbath, along with the Lady +Superior, the Mother-Assistant, and the Mother of the Novices. Besides +this, there was nothing new; merely a hashing up of the two great +trials at Aix and Loudun. They read and followed the printed +narratives only. No wit, no invention, was shown by either. + +Anne, the accuser, and her devil Leviathan, were backed by the +Penitentiary of Evreux, one of the chief actors in the Loudun affair. +By his advice, the Bishop of Evreux gave orders to disinter the body +of Picart, so that the devils might leave the convent when Picart +himself was taken away from the neighbourhood. Madeline was condemned, +without a hearing, to be disgraced, to have her body examined for the +marks of the Devil. They tore off her veil and gown, and made her the +wretched sport of a vile curiosity, that would have pierced her till +she bled again, in order to win the right of sending her to the stake. +Leaving to no one else the care of a scrutiny which was in itself a +torture, these virgins acting as matrons, ascertained if she was with +child or no, shaved all her body, and dug their needles into her +quivering flesh, to find out the insensible spots that betrayed the +mark of the Devil. At every dig they discovered signs of pain: if they +had not the luck to prove her a Witch, at any rate, they could revel +in her tears and cries. + + * * * * * + +But Sister Anne was not satisfied, until, on the mere word of her own +devil, Madeline, though acquitted by the results of this examination, +was condemned for the rest of her life to an _In pace_. It was said +that the convent would be quieted by her departure; but such was not +the case. The Devil was more violent than ever; some twenty nuns began +to cry out, to prophesy, to beat themselves. + +Such a sight drew thither a curious crowd from Rouen, and even from +Paris. Yvelin, a young Parisian surgeon, who had already seen the +farce at Loudun, came to see that of Louviers. He brought with him a +very clear-headed magistrate, the Commissioner of Taxes at Rouen. They +devoted unwearying attention to the matter, settled themselves at +Louviers, and carried on their researches for seventeen days. + +From the first day they saw into the plot. A conversation they had had +with the Penitentiary of Evreux on their entrance into the town, was +repeated back to them by Sister Anne's demon, as if it had been a +revelation. The scenic arrangements were very bewitching. The shades +of night, the torches, the flickering and smoking lights, produced +effects which had not been seen at Loudun. The rest of the process was +simple enough. One of the bewitched said that in a certain part of the +garden they would find a charm. They dug for it, and it was found. +Unluckily, Yvelin's friend, the sceptical magistrate, never budged +from the side of the leading actress, Sister Anne. At the very edge of +a hole they had just opened he grasped her hand, and on opening it, +found the charm, a bit of black thread, which she was about to throw +into the ground. + +The exorcisers, the penitentiary, priests, and Capuchins, about the +spot, were overwhelmed with confusion. The dauntless Yvelin, on his +own authority, began a scrutiny, and saw to the uttermost depth of the +affair. + +Among the fifty-two nuns, said he, there were six _possessed_, but +deserving of chastisement. Seventeen more were victims under a spell, +a pack of girls upset by the disease of the cloisters. He describes +it with great precision: the girls are regular but hysterical, blown +out with certain inward storms, lunatics mainly, and disordered in +mind. A nervous contagion has ruined them; and the first thing to do +is to keep them apart. + +He then, with the liveliness of Voltaire, examines the tokens by which +the priests were wont to recognize the supernatural character of the +bewitched. They foretel, he allows, but only what never happens. They +translate, indeed, but without understanding; as when, for instance, +they render "_ex parte virginis_," by "the departure of the Virgin." +They know Greek before the people of Louviers, but cannot speak it +before the doctors of Paris. They cut capers, take leaps of the +easiest kind, climb up the trunk of a tree which a child three years +old might climb. In short, the only thing they do that is really +dreadful and unnatural, is to use dirtier language than men would ever +do. + + * * * * * + +In tearing off the mask from these people, the surgeon rendered a +great service to humanity. For the matter was being pushed further; +other victims were about to be made. Besides the charms were found +some papers, ascribed to David or Picart, in which this and that +person were called witches, and marked out for death. Each one +shuddered lest his name should be found there. Little by little the +fear of the priesthood made its way among the people. + +The rotten age of Mazarin, the first days of the weak Anne of Austria, +were already come. Order and government were no more. "But one phrase +was left in the language: _The Queen is so good._" Her goodness gave +the clergy a chance of getting the upper hand. The power of the laity +entombed with Richelieu, bishops, priests, and monks, were about to +reign. The bold impiety of the magistrate and his friend Yvelin +imperilled so sweet a hope. Groans and wailings went forth to the Good +Queen, not from the victims, but from the knaves thus caught in the +midst of their offences. Up to the Court they went, weeping for the +outrage to their religion. + +Yvelin was not prepared for this stroke: he deemed himself firm at +Court, having for ten years borne the title of Surgeon to the Queen. +Before he returned from Louviers to Paris, the weakness of Anne of +Austria had been tempted into granting another commission named by his +opponents, consisting of an old fool in his dotage, one Diafoirus of +Rouen, and his nephew, both attached to the priesthood. These did not +fail to discover that the Louviers affair was supernatural, +transcending all art of man. + +Any other than Yvelin would have been discouraged. The Rouen +physicians treated with utter scorn this surgeon, this barber fellow, +this mere sawbones. The Court gave him no encouragement. Still, he +held on his way in a treatise which will live yet. He accepts this +battle of science against priestcraft, declaring, as Wyer did in the +sixteenth century, that "in all such matters the right judge is not +the priest but the man of science." With great difficulty he found +some one bold enough to print, but no one willing to sell his little +work. So in broad daylight the heroic young man set about distributing +it with his own hands. Placing himself on the Pont Neuf, the most +frequented spot in Paris, at the foot of Henry the Fourth's statue, he +gave out copies of his memoir to the passers by. At the end of it they +found a formal statement of the shameful fraud, how in the hand of the +female demons the magistrate had caught the unanswerable evidence of +their dishonour. + + * * * * * + +Return we to the wretched Madeline. Her enemy, the Penitentiary of +Evreux, by whose influence she had been searched with needles, carried +her off as his prey to the heart of the episcopal dungeons in that +town. Below an underground passage dipped a cave, below the cave a +cell, where the poor human creature lay buried in damps and darkness. +Reckoning upon her speedy death, her dread companions had not even the +kindness to give her a piece of linen for the dressing of her ulcer. +There, as she lay in her own filth, she suffered alike from pain and +want of cleanliness. The whole night long she was disturbed by the +running to and fro of ravenous rats, those terrors of every prison, +who were wont to nibble men's ears and noses. + +But all these horrors fell short of those which her tyrant, the +Penitentiary, dealt out to her himself. Day after day he would come +into the upper vault and speak to her through the mouth of her pit, +threatening her, commanding her, and making her, whether she would or +no, confess to this or that crime as having been wrought by others. At +length she ceased to eat. Fearing that she might die at once, he drew +her for a while out of her _In Pace_, and laid her in the upper vault. +Then, in his rage against Yvelin's memoir, he cast her back into her +sewer below. + +That glimpse of light, that short renewal and sudden death of hope, +gave the crowning impulse to her despair. Her wound was closing, so +that her strength was greater. She was seized with a deep and violent +thirst for death. She swallowed spiders, but instead of dying, only +brought them up again. Pounded glass she swallowed, but in vain. +Finding an old bit of sharp iron, she tried to cut her throat, but +could not. Then, as an easier way, she dug the iron into her belly. +For four hours she worked and bled, but without success. Even this +wound shortly began to close. To crown all, the life she hated so +returned to her stronger than before. Her heart's death was of no +avail. + +She became once more a woman; still, alas! an object of desire, of +temptation for her jailers, those brutish varlets of the bishopric, +who, notwithstanding the horror of the place, and the unhappy +creature's own sad and filthy plight, would come to make sport of +her, believing that they might do all their pleasure against a Witch. +But an angel succoured her, so she said. From men and rats alike she +defended herself. But against herself, herself she could not protect. +Her prison corrupted her mind. She dreamed of the Devil, besought him +to come and see her, to restore to her the shameful pleasures in which +she had wallowed at Louviers. He never deigned to come back. Once more +amidst this corruption of her senses, she fell back on her old desire +for death. One of the jailers had given her a drug to kill the rats. +She was just going to swallow it herself, when an angel--an angel, was +it, or a devil?--stayed her hand, reserving her for other crimes. + +Thenceforward--sunk into the lowest depths of vileness, become an +unspeakable cipher of cowardice and servility--she signed endless +lists of crimes which she had never committed. Was she worth the +trouble of burning? Many had given up that idea, but the ruthless +Penitentiary clung to it still. He offered money to a Wizard of +Evreux, then in prison, if he would bear such witness as might bring +about the death of Madeline. + +For the future, however, they could use her for other purposes--to +bear false witness, to become a tool for any slander. Whenever they +sought the ruin of any man, they had only to drag down to Louviers or +to Evreux this accursed ghost of a dead woman, living only to make +others die. In this way she was brought out to kill with her words a +poor man named Duval. What the Penitentiary dictated to her, she +repeated readily: when he told her by what marks she should know +Duval, whom she had never seen, she pointed him out and said she had +seen him at the Sabbath. Through her it fell out that he was burnt! + +She owned her dreadful crime, and shuddered to think what answer she +could make before God. She was fallen into such contempt that no one +now deigned to look after her. The doors stood wide open: sometimes +she had the keys herself. But where now should she go, object as she +was of so much dread? Thenceforth the world repelled her--cast her +out: the only world she had left was her dungeon. + +During the anarchy of Mazarin and his Good Lady the chief authority +remained with the Parliaments. That of Rouen, hitherto the friendliest +to the clergy, grew wroth at last at their arrogant way of examining, +ordering, and burning people. A mere decree of the Bishop had caused +Picart's body to be disinterred and thrown into the common sewer. And +now they were passing on to the trial of Boulle, the curate, and +supposed abettor of Picart. Listening to the plaint of Picart's +family, the Parliament sentenced the Bishop of Evreux to replace him +at his own expense in his tomb at Louviers. They called up Boulle, +undertook his trial themselves, and at the same time sent for the +wretched Madeline from Evreux to Rouen. + +People were afraid that Yvelin and the magistrate who had caught the +nuns in the very act of cheating, would be made to appear. Hieing away +to Paris, they found the knave Mazarin ready to protect their knavish +selves. The whole matter was appealed to the King's Council--an +indulgent court, without eyes or ears--whose care it was to bury, hush +up, bedarken everything connected with justice. + +Meanwhile, some honey-tongued priests had comforted Madeline in her +Rouen dungeon; they heard her confessions, and enjoined her, by way of +penance, to ask forgiveness of her persecutors, the nuns of Louviers. +Thenceforth, happen what might, Madeline could never more be brought +in evidence against those who had thus bound her fast. It was a +triumph indeed for the clergy, and the victory was sung by a knave of +an exorciser, the Capuchin Esprit de Bosroger, in his _Piety +Afflicted_, a farcical monument of stupidity, in which he accuses, +unawares, the very people he fancies himself defending. + +The Fronde, as I said before, was a revolution for honest ends. Fools +saw only its outer form--its laughable aspects; but at bottom it was a +serious business, a moral reaction. In August, 1647, with the first +breath of freedom, Parliament stepped forward and cut the knot. It +ordered, in the first place, the destruction of the Louviers Sodom; +the girls were to be dispersed and sent back to their kinsfolk. In the +next, it decreed that thenceforth the bishops of the province should, +four times a-year, send special confessors to the nunneries, to +ascertain that such foul abuses were not renewed. + +One comfort, however, the clergy were to receive. They were allowed to +burn the bones of Picart and the living body of Boulle, who, after +making public confession in the cathedral, was drawn on a hurdle to +the Fish Market, and there, on the 21st August, 1647, devoured by the +flames. Madeline, or rather her corpse, remained in the prisons of +Rouen. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE DEVIL TRIUMPHS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. + + +The Fronde was a kind of Voltaire. The spirit of Voltaire, old as +France herself, but long restrained, burst forth in the political, and +anon in the religious, world. In vain did the Great King seek to +establish a solemn gravity. Beneath it laughter went on. + +Was there nought else, then, but laughter and jesting? Nay, it was the +Advent of Reason. By means of Kepler, of Galileo, Descartes, Newton, +there was now triumphantly enthroned the reasonable dogma of faith in +the unchangeable laws of nature. Miracle dared no longer show itself, +or, when it did dare, was hissed down. In other and better words, the +fantastic miracles of mere whim had vanished, and in their stead was +seen the mighty miracle of the universe--more regular, and therefore +more divine. + +The great rebellion decidedly won the day. You may see it working in +the bold forms of those earlier outbursts; in the irony of Galileo; in +the absolute doubt wherewith Descartes leads off his system. The +Middle Ages would have said, "'Tis the spirit of the Evil One." + +The victory, however, is not a negative one, but very affirmative and +surely based. The spirit of nature and the natural sciences, those +outlaws of an elder day, return in might irresistible. All idle +shadows are hunted out by the real, the substantial. + +They had said in their folly, "Great Pan is dead." Anon, observing +that he was yet alive, they had made him a god of evil: amid such a +chaos they might well be deceived. But, lo! he lives, and lives +harmonious, in the grand stability of laws that govern alike the star +and the deep-hidden mystery of life. + + * * * * * + +Of this period two things, by no means contradictory, may be averred: +the spirit of Satan conquers, while the reign of witchcraft is at an +end. + +All marvel-mongering, hellish or holy, is fallen very sick at last. +Wizards and theologians are powerless alike. They are become, as it +were, empirics, who pray in vain for some supernatural change, some +whim of Providence, to work the wonders which science asks of nature +and reason only. + +For all their zeal, the Jansenists of this century succeed only in +bringing forth a miracle very small and very ridiculous. Still less +lucky are the rich and powerful Jesuits, who cannot get a miracle done +at any price; who have to be satisfied with the visions of a hysteric +girl, Sister Mary Alacoque, of an exceedingly sanguine habit, with +eyes for nothing but blood. In view of so much impotence, magic and +witchcraft may find some solace for themselves. + +While the old faith in the supernatural was thus declining, priests +and witches shared a common fate. In the fears, the fancies of the +Middle Ages, these two were bound up together. Together they were +still to face the general laughter and disdain. When Moliere made fun +of the Devil and his "seething cauldrons," the clergy were deeply +stirred, deeming that the belief in Paradise had fallen equally low. + +A government of laymen only, that of the great Colbert, who was long +the virtual King of France, could not conceal its scorn for such old +questions. It emptied the prisons of the wizards whom the Rouen +Parliament still crowded into them, and, in 1672, forbade the law +courts from entertaining any prosecutions for witchcraft. The +Parliament protested, and gave people to understand that by this +denial of sorcery many other things were put in peril. Any doubting of +these lower mysteries would cause many minds to waver from their +belief in mysteries of a higher sort. + + * * * * * + +The Sabbath disappears, but why? Because it exists everywhere. It +enters into the people's habits, becomes the practice of their daily +life. The Devil, the Witches, had long been reproached with loving +death more than life, with hating and hindering the generative powers +of nature. And now in the pious seventeenth century, when the Witch is +fast dying out, a love of barrenness, and a fear of being fruitful, +are found to be, in very truth, the one prevalent disease. + +If Satan ever read, he would have good cause for laughter as he read +the casuists who took him up where he left off. For there was one +difference at least between them. In times of terror Satan made +provision for the famished, took pity on the poor. But these fellows +have compassion only for the rich. With his vices, his luxury, his +court life, the rich man is still a needy miserable beggar. He comes +to confession with a humbly threatening air, in order to wrest from +his doctor permission to sin with a good conscience. Some day will be +told, by him who may have the courage to tell it, an astounding tale +of the cowardly things done, and the shameful tricks so basely +ventured by the casuist who wished to keep his penitent. From Navarro +to Escobar the strangest bargains were continually made at the wife's +expense, and some little wrangling went on after that. But all this +would not do. The casuist was conquered, was altogether a coward. From +Zoccoli to Liguori--1670 to 1770--he gave up banning Nature. + +The Devil, so it was said, showed two countenances at the Sabbath: the +one in front seemed threatening, the other behind was farcical. Now +that he has nothing to do with it, he has generously given the latter +to the casuist. + +It must have amused him to see his trusty friends settled among honest +folk, in the serious households swayed by the Church. The worldling +who bettered himself by that great resource of the day, lucrative +adultery, laughed at prudence, and boldly followed his natural bent. +Pious families, on the other hand, followed nothing but their Jesuits. +In order to preserve, to concentrate their property, to leave each one +wealthy heir, they entered on the crooked ways of the new +spiritualism. Buried in a mysterious gloom, losing at the faldstool +all heed and knowledge of themselves, the proudest of them followed +the lesson taught by Molinos: "In this world we live to suffer. But in +time that suffering is soothed and lulled to sleep by a habit of pious +indifference. We thus attain to a negation. Death do you say? Not +altogether. Without mingling in the world, or heeding its voices, we +get thereof an echo dim and soft. It is like a windfall of Divine +Grace, so mild and searching; never more so than in moments of +self-abasement, when the will is wholly obscured." + +Exquisite depths of feeling! Alas, poor Satan! how art thou left +behind! Bend low, acknowledge, and admire thy children! + + * * * * * + +The physicians who, having sprung from the popular empiricism which +men called witchcraft, were far more truly his lawful children, were +too forgetful of him who had left them his highest patrimony, as being +his favoured heirs. They were ungrateful to the Witch, who laid the +way for themselves. Nay, they went further than that. On this fallen +king, their father and creator, they dealt some hard strokes with the +whip. "_Thou, too, my son?_" They gave the jesters cruel weapons +against him. + +Even in the sixteenth century there were some to scoff at the spirit +who through all time, from the days of the Sibyl to those of the +Witch, had filled and troubled the woman. They maintained that he was +neither God nor Devil, but only "the Prince of the Air," as the Middle +Ages called him. Satan was nothing but a disease! + +_Possession_ to them was only a result of the prison-like, sedentary, +dry, unyielding life of the cloister. As for the 6500 devils in +Gauffridi's little Madeline, and the hosts that fought in the bodies +of maddened nuns at Loudun and Louviers, these doctors called them +physical storms. "If AEolus can shake the earth," said Yvelin, "why not +also the body of a girl?" La Cadiere's surgeon, of whom more anon, had +the coolness to say, "it was nothing more than a choking of the womb." + +Wonderful descent! Routed by the simplest remedies, by exorcisms after +Moliere, the terror of the Middle Ages would flee away and vanish +utterly! + +This is too sweeping a reduction of the question. Satan was more than +that. The doctors saw neither the height nor the depth of him; neither +his grand revolt in the form of science, nor that strange mixture of +impurity and pious intrigue, that union of Tartuffe and Priapus, which +he brought to pass about the year 1700. + +People fancy they know something about the eighteenth century, and +yet have never seen one of its most essential features. The greater +its outward civilization, the clearer and fuller the light that bathed +its uppermost layers, so much the more hermetically sealed lay all +those widespread lower realms, of priests and monks, and women +credulous, sickly, prone to believe whatever they heard or saw. In the +years before Cagliostro, Mesmer, and the magnetisers, who appeared +towards the close of the century, a good many priests still worked +away at the old dead witchcraft. They talked of nothing but +enchantments, spread the fear of them abroad, and undertook to hunt +out the devils with their shameful exorcisms. Many set up for wizards, +well knowing how little risk they ran, now that people were no longer +burnt. They knew they were sheltered by the milder spirit of their +age, by the tolerant teachings of their foes the philosophers, by the +levity of the great jesters, who thought that anything could be +extinguished with a laugh. Now it was just because people laughed, +that these gloomy plot-spinners went their way without much fear. The +new spirit, that of the Regent namely, was sceptical and easy-natured. +It shone forth in the _Persian Letters_, it shone forth everywhere in +the all-powerful journalist who filled that century, Voltaire. At any +shedding of human blood his whole heart rises indignant. All other +matters only make him laugh. Little by little, the maxim of the +worldly public seems to be, "Punish nothing, and laugh at all." + +This tolerant spirit suffered Cardinal Tencin to appear in public as +his sister's husband. This, too, it was that ensured to the masters of +convents the peaceful possession of their nuns, who were even allowed +to make declarations of pregnancy, to register the births of their +children.[106] This tolerant temper made excuses for Father +Apollinaire, when he was caught in a shameful piece of exorcism. That +worthy Jesuit, Cauvrigny, idol of the provincial convents, paid for +his adventures only by a recall to Paris, in other words--by fresh +preferment. + + [106] The noble Chapter of Canons of Pignan were sixteen in + number. In one year the provost received from the nuns + sixteen declarations of pregnancy. (See MS. History of Besse, + by M. Renoux.) One good fruit of this publicity was the + decrease of infanticide among the religious orders. At the + price of a little shame, the nuns let their children live, + and doubtless became good mothers. Those of Pignan put their + babes out to nurse with the neighbouring peasants, who + brought them up as their own. + +Such also was the punishment awarded the famous Jesuit, Girard, who +was loaded with honours when he should have got the rope. He died in +the sweetest savour of holiness. His was the most curious affair of +that century. It enables us to probe the peculiar methods of that day, +to realize the coarse jumble of jarring machinery which was then at +work. As a thing of course, it was preluded by the dangerous suavities +of the Song of Songs. It was carried on by Mary Alacoque, with a +marriage of Bleeding Hearts spiced with the morbid blandishments of +Molinos. To these Girard added the whisperings of Satan and the +terrors of enchantment. He was at once the Devil and the Devil's +exorciser. At last, horrible to say, instead of getting justice done +to her, the unhappy girl whom he sacrificed with so much cruelty, was +persecuted to death. She disappeared, shut up perhaps by a _lettre de +cachet_, and buried alive in her tomb. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +FATHER GIRARD AND LA CADIERE: 1730. + + +The Jesuits were unlucky. Powerful at Versailles, where they ruled the +Court, they had not the slightest credit with Heaven. Not one tiny +miracle could they do. The Jansenists overflowed, at any rate, with +touching stories of miracles done. Untold numbers of sick, infirm, +halt, and paralytic obtained a momentary cure at the tomb of the +Deacon Paris. Crushed by a terrible succession of plagues, from the +time of the Great King to the Regency, when so many were reduced to +beggary, these unfortunate people went to entreat a poor, good fellow, +a virtuous imbecile, a saint in spite of his absurdities, to make them +whole. And what need, after all, of laughter? His life is far more +touching than ridiculous. We are not to be surprised if these good +folk, in the emotion of seeing their benefactor's tomb, suddenly +forgot their own sufferings. The cure did not last, but what matter? A +miracle indeed had taken place, a miracle of devotion, of +lovingkindness, of gratitude. Latterly, with all this some knavery +began to mingle, but at that time, in 1728, these wonderful popular +scenes were very pure. + +The Jesuits would have given anything for the least of the miracles +they denied. For well-nigh fifty years they worked away, embellishing +with fables and anecdotes their Legend of the Sacred Heart, the story +of Mary Alacoque. For twenty-five or thirty years they had been trying +to convince the world that their helpmate, James II. of England, not +content with healing the king's evil (in his character of King of +France), amused himself after his death in making the dumb to speak, +the lame to walk straight, and the squint-eyed to see properly. They +who were cured squinted worse than ever. As for the dumb, it so +chanced that she who played this part was a manifest rogue, caught in +the very act of stealing. She roamed the provinces: at every chapel of +any renowned saint she was healed by a miracle and received alms, and +then began her work again elsewhere. + +For getting wonders wrought the South was a better country. There +might be found a plenty of nervous women, easy to excite, the very +ones to make into somnambulists, subjects of miracle, bearers of +mystic marks, and so forth. + +At Marseilles the Jesuits had on their side a bishop, Belzunce, a +bold, hearty sort of man, renowned in the memorable plague,[107] but +credulous and narrow-minded withal; under whose countenance many a +bold venture might be made. Beside him they had placed a Jesuit of +Franche-Comte, not wanting in mind, whose austere outside did not +prevent his preaching pleasantly, in an ornate and rather worldly +style, such as the ladies loved. A true Jesuit, he made his way by two +different methods, now by feminine intrigue, anon by his holy +utterances. Girard had on his side neither years nor figure; he was a +man of forty-seven, tall, withered, weak-looking, of dirty aspect, and +given to spitting without end.[108] He had long been a tutor, even +till he was thirty-seven; and he preserved some of his college tastes. +For the last ten years, namely, ever since the great plague, he had +been confessor to the nuns. With them he had fared well, winning over +them a high degree of power by enforcing a method seemingly quite at +variance with the Provencial temperament, by teaching the doctrine and +the discipline of a mystic death, of absolute passiveness, of entire +forgetfulness of self. The dreadful crisis through which they had just +passed had deadened their spirits, and weakened hearts already +unmanned by a kind of morbid languor. Under Girard's leading, the +Carmelites of Marseilles carried their mysticism to great lengths; and +first among them was Sister Remusat, who passed for a saint. + + [107] The great plague of 1720, which carried off 60,000 + people about Marseilles. Belzunce is the "Marseilles' good + bishop" of Pope's line--TRANS. + + [108] See "The Proceedings in the Affair of Father Girard and + La Cadiere," Aix, 1733. + +In spite, or perhaps by reason, of this success, the Jesuits took +Girard away from Marseilles: they wanted to employ him in raising +anew their house at Toulon. Colbert's splendid institution, the +Seminary for Naval Chaplains, had been entrusted to the Jesuits, with +the view of cleansing the young chaplains from the influence of the +Lazarists, who ruled them almost everywhere. But the two Jesuits +placed in charge were men of small capacity. One was a fool; the +other, Sabatier, remarkable, in spite of his age, for heat of temper. +With all the insolence of our old navy he never kept himself under the +least control. In Toulon he was reproached, not for having a mistress, +nor yet a married woman, but for intriguing in a way so insolent and +outrageous as to drive the husband wild. He sought to keep the husband +specially alive to his own shame, to make him wince with every kind of +pang. Matters were pushed so far that at last the husband died +outright. + +Still greater was the scandal caused by the Jesuits' rivals, the +Observantines, who, having spiritual charge of a sisterhood at +Ollioules, made mistresses openly of the nuns, and, not content with +this, dared even to seduce the little boarders. One Aubany, the Father +Guardian, violated a girl of thirteen; when her parents pursued him, +he found shelter at Marseilles. + +As Director of the Seminary for Chaplains, Girard began, through his +seeming sternness and his real dexterity, to win for the Jesuits an +ascendant over monks thus compromised, and over parish-priests of very +vulgar manners and scanty learning. + +In those Southern regions, where the men are abrupt, not seldom +uncouth of speech and appearance, the women have a lively relish for +the gentle gravity of the men of the North: they feel thankful to them +for speaking a language at once aristocratic, official, and French. + +When Girard reached Toulon, he must already have gained full knowledge +of the ground before him. Already had he won over a certain Guiol, who +sometimes came to Marseilles, where she had a daughter, a Carmelite +nun. This Guiol, wife of a small carpenter, threw herself entirely +into his hands, even more so than he wanted. She was of ripe age, +extremely vehement for a woman of forty-seven, depraved and ready for +anything, ready to do him service of whatever kind, no matter what he +might do or be, whether he were a sinner or a saint. + +This Guiol, besides her Carmelite daughter at Marseilles, had another, +a lay-sister to the Ursulines of Toulon. The Ursulines, an order of +teaching nuns, formed everywhere a kind of centre; their parlour, the +resort of mothers, being a half-way stage between the cloister and the +world. At their house, and doubtless through their means, Girard saw +the ladies of the town, among them one of forty years, a spinster, +Mdlle. Gravier, daughter of an old contractor for the royal works at +the Arsenal. This lady had a shadow who never left her, her cousin La +Reboul, daughter of a skipper and sole heiress to herself; a woman, +too, who really meant to succeed her, though very nearly her own age, +being five-and-thirty. Around these gradually grew a small roomful of +Girard's admirers, who became his regular penitents. Among them were +sometimes introduced a few young girls, such as La Cadiere, a +tradesman's daughter and herself a sempstress, La Laugier, and La +Batarelle, the daughter of a waterman. They had godly readings +together, and now and then small suppers. But they were specially +interested in certain letters which recounted the miracles and +ecstacies of Sister Remusat, who was still alive; her death occurring +in February, 1730. What a glorious thing for Father Girard, who had +led her to a pitch so lofty! They read, they wept, they shouted with +admiration. If they were not ecstatic yet, they were not far from +being so. Already, to please her kinswoman, would La Reboul throw +herself at times into a strange plight by holding her breath and +pinching her nose. + + * * * * * + +Among these girls and women the least frivolous certainly was +Catherine Cadiere, a delicate, sickly girl of seventeen, taken up +wholly with devotion and charity, of a mournful countenance, which +seemed to say that, young as she was, she had felt more keenly than +anyone else the great misfortunes of the time, those, namely, of +Provence and Toulon. This is easily explained. She was born during the +frightful famine of 1709; and just as the child was growing into a +maiden, she witnessed the fearful scenes of the great plague. Those +two events seemed to have left their mark upon her, to have taken her +out of the present into a life beyond. + +This sad flower belonged wholly to Toulon, to the Toulon of that day. +To understand her better we must remember what that town is and what +it was. + +Toulon is a thoroughfare, a landing-place, the entrance of an immense +harbour and a huge arsenal. The sense of this carries the traveller +away, and prevents his seeing Toulon itself. There is a town however +there, indeed an ancient city. It contains two different sets of +people, the stranger functionaries, and the genuine Toulonnese, who +are far from friendly to the former, regarding them with envy, and +often roused to rebellion by the swaggering of the naval officers. All +these differences were concentred in the gloomy streets of a town in +those days choked up within its narrow girdle of fortifications. The +most peculiar feature about this small dark town is, that it lies +exactly between two broad seas of light, between the marvellous mirror +of its roadstead and its glorious amphitheatre of mountains, +baldheaded, of a dazzling grey, that blinds you in the noonday sun. +All the gloomier look the streets themselves. Such as do not lead +straight to the harbour and draw some light therefrom, are plunged at +all hours in deep gloom. Filthy byeways, and small tradesmen with +shops ill-furnished, invisible to anyone coming for the day, such is +the general aspect of the place. The interior forms a maze of passages +in which you may find plenty of churches, and old convents now turned +into barracks. Copious kennels, laden and foul with sewage water, run +down in torrents. The air is almost stagnant, and in so dry a climate +you are surprised at seeing so much moisture. + +In front of the new theatre a passage called La Rue de l'Hopital leads +from the narrow Rue Royale into the narrow Rue des Cannoniers. It +might almost be called a blind alley. The sun, however, just looks +down upon it at noon, but, finding the place so dismal, passes on +forthwith, and leaves the passage to its wonted darkness. + +Among these gloomy dwellings the smallest was that of the Sister +Cadiere, a retail dealer, or huckster. There was no entrance but by +the shop, and only one room on each floor. The Cadieres were honest +pious folk, and Madame Cadiere the mirror of excellence itself. These +good people were not altogether poor. Besides their small dwelling in +the town, they too, like most of their fellow-townsmen, had a +country-house of their own. This latter is, commonly, a mere hut, a +little stony plot of ground yielding a little wine. In the days of its +naval greatness, under Colbert and his son, the wondrous bustle in the +harbour brought some profit to the town. French money flowed in. The +many great lords who passed that way brought their households along +with them, an army of wasteful domestics, who left a good many things +behind them. All this came to a sudden end. The artificial movement +stopped short: even the workmen at the arsenal could no longer get +their wages; shattered vessels were left unrepaired; and at last the +timbers themselves were sold. + +Toulon was keenly sensible of the rebound. At the siege of 1707 it +seemed as if dead. What, then, was it in the dreadful year 1709, the +71st of Louis XIV., when every plague at once, a hard winter, a +famine, and an epidemic, seemed bent on utterly destroying France? The +very trees of Provence were not spared. All traffic came to an end. +The roads were covered with starving beggars. Begirt with bandits who +stopped up every outlet, Toulon quaked for fear. + +To crown all, Madame Cadiere, in this year of sorrow, was with child. +Three boys she had borne already. The eldest stayed in the shop to +help his father. The second was with the Friar Preachers, and destined +to become a Dominican, or a Jacobin as they were then called. The +third was studying in the Jesuit seminary as a priest to be. The +wedded couple wanted a daughter; Madame prayed to Heaven for a saint. +She spent her nine months in prayer, fasting, or eating nought but rye +bread. She had a daughter, namely Catherine. The babe was very +delicate and, like her brothers, unhealthy. The dampness of an +ill-aired dwelling, and the poor nourishment gained from a mother so +thrifty and more than temperate, had something to do with this. The +brothers had scrofulous glands, and in her earlier years the little +thing suffered from the same cause. Without being altogether ill, she +had all the suffering sweetness of a sickly child. She grew up without +growing stronger. At an age when other children have all the strength +and gladness of upswelling life in them, she was already saying, "I +have not long to live." + +She took the small-pox, which left her rather marked. I know not if +she was handsome, but it is clear that she was very winning, with all +the charming contrasts, the twofold nature of the maidens of Provence. +Lively and pensive, gay and sad, by turns, she was a good little +worshipper, but given to harmless pranks withal. Between the long +church services, if she went into the country with girls of her own +age, she made no fuss about doing as they did, but would sing and +dance away and flourish her tambourine. But such days were few. Most +times her chief delight was to climb up to the top of the house, to +bring herself nearer heaven, to obtain a glimpse of daylight, to look +out, perhaps, on some small strip of sea, or some pointed peak in the +vast wilderness of hills. Thenceforth to her eyes they were serious +still, but less unkindly than before, less bald and leafless, in a +garment thinly strewn with arbutus and larch. + +This dead town of Toulon numbered 26,000 inhabitants when the plague +began. It was a huge throng cooped up in one spot. But from this +centre let us take away a girdle of great convents with their backs +upon the ramparts, convents of Minorites, Ursulines, Visitandines, +Bernardines, Oratorians, Jesuits, Capuchins, Recollects; those of the +Refuge, the Good Shepherd, and, midmost of all, the enormous convent +of Dominicans. Add to these the parish churches, parsonages, bishop's +palace, and it seems that the clergy filled up the place, while the +people had no room at all, to speak of.[109] + + [109] See the work by M. d'Antrechaus, and the excellent + treatise by M. Gustave Lambert. + +On a centre so closely thronged, we may guess how savagely the plague +would fasten. Toulon's kind heart was also to prove her bane. She +received with generous warmth some fugitives from Marseilles. These +are just as likely to have brought the plague with them, as certain +bales of wool to which was traced the first appearance of that +scourge. The chief men of the place were about to fly, to scatter +themselves over the country. But the First Consul, M. d'Antrechaus, a +man of heroic soul, withheld them, saying, with a stern air, "And what +will the people do, sirs, in this impoverished town, if the rich folk +carry their purses away?" So he held them back, and compelled all +persons to stay where they were. Now the horrors of Marseilles had +been ascribed to the mutual intercourse of its inhabitants. +D'Antrechaus, however, tried a system entirely the reverse, tried to +isolate the people of Toulon, by shutting them up in their houses. +Two huge hospitals were established, in the roadstead and in the +hills. All who did not come to these, had to keep at home on pain of +death. For seven long months D'Antrechaus carried out a wager, which +would have been held impossible, the keeping, namely, and feeding in +their own houses, of a people numbering 26,000 souls. All that time +Toulon was one vast tomb. No one stirred save in the morning, to deal +out bread from door to door, and then to carry off the dead. Most of +the doctors perished, and the magistrates all but D'Antrechaus. The +gravediggers also perished, and their places were filled by condemned +deserters, who went to work with brutal and headlong violence. Bodies +were thrown into the tumbril, head downwards, from the fourth storey. +One mother, having just lost her little girl, shrunk from seeing her +poor wee body thus hurled below, and by dint of bribing, managed to +get it lowered the proper way. As they were bearing it off, the child +came to; it lived still. They took her up again, and she survived, to +become the grandmother of the learned M. Brun, who wrote an excellent +history of the port. + +Poor little Cadiere was exactly the same age as this girl who died and +lived again, being twelve years old, an age for her sex so full of +danger. In the general closing of the churches, in the putting down of +all holidays, and chiefly of Christmas, wont to be so merry a season +at Toulon, the child's fancy saw the end of all things. It seems as +though she never quite shook off that fancy. Toulon never raised her +head again. She retained her desert-like air. Everything was in ruins, +everyone in mourning; widowers, orphans, desperate beings were +everywhere seen. In the midst, a mighty shadow, moved D'Antrechaus +himself; he had seen all about him perish, his sons, his brothers, and +his colleagues; and was now so gloriously ruined, that he was fain to +look to his neighbours for his daily meals. The poor quarrelled among +themselves for the honour of feeding him. + +The young girl told her mother that she would never more wear any of +her smarter clothes, and she must, therefore, sell them. She would do +nothing but wait upon the sick, and she was always dragging her to the +hospital at the end of the street. A little neighbour-girl of +fourteen, Laugier by name, who had lost her father, was living with +her mother in great wretchedness. Catherine was continually going to +them with food and clothes, and anything she could get for them. She +begged her parents to defray the cost of apprenticing Laugier to a +dressmaker; and such was her sway over them that they could not refuse +to incur so heavy an outlay. Her piety, her many little charms of +soul, rendered her all-powerful. She was impassioned in her charity, +giving not alms only, but love as well. She longed to make Laugier +perfect, rejoiced to have her by her side, and often gave her half her +bed. The pair had been admitted among the _Daughters of Saint +Theresa_, the third order established by the Carmelites. Mdlle. +Cadiere was their model nun, and seemed at thirteen a Carmelite +complete. Already she devoured some books of mysticism borrowed from a +Visitandine. In marked contrast with herself seemed Laugier, now a +girl of fifteen, who would do nothing but eat and look handsome. So +indeed she was, and on that account had been made sextoness to the +chapel of Saint Theresa. This led her into great familiarities with +the priests, and so, when her conduct called for her expulsion from +the congregation, another authority, the vicar-general, flew into such +a rage as to declare that, if she were expelled, the chapel itself +would be interdicted. + +Both these girls had the temperament of their country, suffering from +great excitement of the nerves, and from what was called flatulence of +the womb. But in each the result was entirely different; being very +carnal in the case of Laugier, who was gluttonous, lazy, passionate; +but wholly cerebral with regard to the pure and gentle Catherine, who +owing to her ailments or to a lively imagination that took everything +up into itself, had no ideas concerning sex. "At twenty she was like a +child of seven." For nothing cared she but praying and giving of alms; +she had no wish at all to marry. At the very word "marriage," she +would fall a-weeping, as if she had been asked to abandon God. + +They had lent her the life of her patroness, Catherine of Genoa, and +she had bought for herself _The Castle of the Soul_, by St. Theresa. +Few confessors could follow her in these mystic flights. They who +spoke clumsily of such things gave her pain. She could not keep either +her mother's confessor, the cathedral-priest, or another, a Carmelite, +or even the old Jesuit Sabatier. At sixteen she found a priest of +Saint Louis, a highly spiritual person. She spent days in church, to +such a degree that her mother, by this time a widow and often in want +of her, had to punish her, for all her own piety, on her return home. +It was not the girl's fault, however: during her ecstasies she quite +forgot herself. So great a saint was she accounted by the girls of her +own age, that sometimes at mass they seemed to see the Host drawn on +by the moving power of her love, until it flew up and placed itself of +its own accord in her mouth. + +Her two young brothers differed from each other in their feelings +towards Girard. The elder, who lived with the Friar Preachers, shared +the natural dislike of all Dominicans for the Jesuit. The other, who +was studying with the Jesuits in order to become a priest, regarded +Girard as a great man, a very saint, a man to honour as a hero. Of +this younger brother, sickly like herself, Catherine was very fond. +His ceaseless talking about Girard was sure to do its work upon her. +One day she met the father in the street. He looked so grave, but so +good and mild withal, that a voice within her said, "Behold the man to +whose guidance thou art given!" The next Saturday, when she came to +confess to him, he said that he had been expecting her. In her amazed +emotion she never dreamed that her brother might have given him +warning, but fancied that the mysterious voice had spoken to him also, +and that they two were sharing the heavenly communion of warnings from +the world above. + +Six months of summer passed away, and yet Girard, who confessed her +every Saturday, had taken no step towards her. The scandal about old +Sabatier had set him on his guard. His own prudence would have held +him to an attachment of a darker kind for such a one as the Guiol, who +was certainly very mature, but also ardent and a devil incarnate. + +It was Cadiere who made the first advances towards him, innocent as +they were. Her brother, the giddy Jacobin, had taken it into his head +to lend a lady and circulate through the town a satire called _The +Morality of the Jesuits_. The latter were soon apprised of this. +Sabatier swore that he would write to the Court for a sealed order +(lettre-de-cachet) to shut up the Jacobin. In her trouble and alarm, +his sister, with tears in her eyes, went to beseech Father Girard for +pity's sake to interfere. On her coming again to him a little later, +he said, "Make yourself easy; your brother has nothing to fear; I have +settled the matter for him." She was quite overcome. Girard saw his +advantage. A man of his influence, a friend of the King, a friend of +Heaven as well, after such proof of goodness as he had just been +giving, would surely have the very strongest sway over so young a +heart! He made the venture, and in her own uncertain language said to +her, "Put yourself in my hands; yield yourself up to me altogether." +Without a blush she answered, in the fulness of her angelic purity, +"Yes;" meaning nought else than to have him for her sole director. + +What were his plans concerning her? Would he make her a mistress or +the tool of his charlatanry? Girard doubtless swayed to and fro, but +he leant, I think, most towards the latter idea. He had to make his +choice, might manage to seek out pleasures free from risk. But Mdlle. +Cadiere was under a pious mother. She lived with her family, a married +brother and the two churchmen, in a very confined house, whose only +entrance lay through the shop of the elder brother. She went no +whither except to church. With all her simplicity she knew +instinctively what things were impure, what houses dangerous. The +Jesuit penitents were fond of meeting together at the top of a house, +to eat, and play the fool, and cry out, in their Provencial tongue, +"Vivent les _Jesuitons_!" A neighbour, disturbed by their noise, went +and found them lying on their faces, singing and eating fritters, all +paid for, it was said, out of the alms-money. Cadiere was also +invited, but taking a disgust to the thing she never went a second +time. + +She was assailable only through her soul. And it was only her soul +that Girard seemed to desire. That she should accept those lessons of +passive faith which he had taught at Marseilles, this apparently was +all his aim. Hoping that example would do more for him than precept, +he charged his tool Guiol to escort the young saint to Marseilles, +where lived the friend of Cadiere's childhood, a Carmelite nun, a +daughter of Guiol's. The artful woman sought to win her trust by +pretending that she, too, was sometimes ecstatic. She crammed her with +absurd stories. She told her, for instance, that on finding a cask of +wine spoilt in her cellar, she began to pray, and immediately the wine +became good. Another time she felt herself pierced by a crown of +thorns, but the angels had comforted her by serving up a good dinner, +of which she partook with Father Girard. + +Cadiere gained her mother's leave to go with this worthy Guiol to +Marseilles, and Madame Cadiere paid her expenses. It was now the most +scorching month--that of August, 1729--in a scorching climate, when +the country was all dried up, and the eye could see nothing but a +rugged mirror of rocks and flintstone. The weak, parched brain of a +sick girl suffering from the fatigues of travel, was all the more +easily impressed by the dismal air of a nunnery of the dead. The true +type of this class was the Sister Remusat, already a corpse to outward +seeming, and soon to be really dead. Cadiere was moved to admire so +lofty a piece of perfection. Her treacherous companion allured her +with the proud conceit of being such another and filling her place +anon. + +During this short trip of hers, Girard, who remained amid the stifling +heats of Toulon, had met with a dismal fall. He would often go to the +girl Laugier, who believed herself to be ecstatic, and "comfort" her +to such good purpose that he got her presently with child. When Mdlle. +Cadiere came back in the highest ecstasy, as if like to soar away, he +for his part was become so carnal, so given up to pleasure, that he +"let fall on her ears a whisper of love." Thereat she took fire, but +all, as anyone may see, in her own pure, saintly, generous way; as +eager to keep him from falling, as devoting herself even to die for +his sake. + +One of her saintly gifts was her power of seeing into the depths of +men's hearts. She had sometimes chanced to learn the secret life and +morals of her confessors, to tell them of their faults; and this, in +their fear and amazement, many of them had borne with great humility. +One day this summer, on seeing Guiol come into her room, she suddenly +said, "Wicked woman! what have you been doing?" + +"And she was right," said Guiol herself, at a later period; "for I had +just been doing an evil deed." Perhaps she had just been rendering +Laugier the same midwife's service which next year she wished to +render Batarelle. + +Very likely, indeed, Laugier had entrusted to Catherine, at whose +house she often slept, the secret of her good fortune, the love, the +fatherly caresses of her saint. It was a hard and stormy trial for +Catherine's spirits. On the one side, she had learnt by heart +Girard's maxim, that whatever a saint may do is holy. But on the other +hand, her native honesty and the whole course of her education +compelled her to believe that over-fondness for the creature was ever +a mortal sin. This woeful tossing between two different doctrines +quite finished the poor girl, brought on within her dreadful storms, +until at last she fancied herself possessed with a devil. + +And here her goodness of heart was made manifest. Without humbling +Girard, she told him she had a vision of a soul tormented with impure +thoughts and deadly sin; that she felt the need of rescuing that soul, +by offering the Devil victim for victim, by agreeing to yield herself +into his keeping in Girard's stead. He never forbade her, but gave her +leave to be possessed for one year only. + +Like the rest of the town, she had heard of the scandalous loves of +Father Sabatier--an insolent passionate man, with none of Girard's +prudence. The scorn which the Jesuits--to her mind, such pillars of +the Church--were sure to incur, had not escaped her notice. She said +one day to Girard, "I had a vision of a gloomy sea, with a vessel full +of souls tossed by a storm of unclean thoughts. On this vessel were +two Jesuits. Said I to the Redeemer, whom I saw in heaven, 'Lord, save +them, and let me drown! The whole of their shipwreck do I take upon +myself,' And God, in His mercy, granted my prayer." + +All through the trial, and when Girard, become her foe, was aiming at +her death, she never once recurred to this subject. These two +parables, so clear in meaning, she never explained. She was too +high-minded to say a word about them. She had doomed herself to very +damnation. Some will say that in her pride she deemed herself so +deadened and impassive as to defy the impurity with which the Demon +troubled a man of God. But it is quite clear that she had no accurate +knowledge of sensual things, foreseeing nought in such a mystery save +pains and torments of the Devil. Girard was very cold, and quite +unworthy of all this sacrifice. Instead of being moved to compassion, +he sported with her credulity through a vile deceit. Into her casket +he slipped a paper, in which God declared that, for her sake, He would +indeed save the vessel. But he took care not to leave so absurd a +document there: she would have read it again and again until she came +to perceive how spurious it was. The angel who brought the paper +carried it off the next day. + +With the same coarseness of feeling Girard lightly allowed her, all +unsettled and incapable of praying as she plainly was, to communicate +as much as she pleased in different churches every day. This only made +her worse. Filled already with the Demon, she harboured the two foes +in one place. With equal power they fought within her against each +other. She thought she would burst asunder. She would fall into a +dead faint, and so remain for several hours. By December she could +not move even from her bed. + +Girard had now but too good a plea for seeing her. He was prudent +enough to let himself be led by the younger brother at least as far as +her door. The sick girl's room was at the top of the house. Her mother +stayed discreetly in the shop. He was left alone as long as he +pleased, and if he chose could turn the key. At this time she was very +ill. He handled her as a child, drawing her forward a little to the +front of the bed, holding her head, and kissing her in a fatherly way. + +She was very pure, but very sensitive. A slight touch, that no one +else would have remarked, deprived her of her senses: this Girard +found out for himself, and the knowledge of it possessed him with evil +thoughts. He threw her at will into this trance,[110] and she, in her +thorough trust in him, never thought of trying to prevent it, feeling +only somewhat troubled and ashamed at causing such a man to waste upon +her so much of his precious time. His visits were very long. It was +easy to foresee what would happen at last. Ill as she was, the poor +girl inspired Girard with a passion none the less wild and +uncontrollable. One freedom led to another, and her plaintive +remonstrances were met with scornful replies. "I am your master--your +god. You must bear all for obedience sake." At length, about +Christmas-time, the last barrier of reserve was broken down; and the +poor girl awoke from her trance to utter a wail which moved even him +to pity. + + [110] A case of mesmerism applied to a very susceptible + patient.--TRANS. + +An issue which she but dimly realized, Girard, as better enlightened, +viewed with growing alarm. Signs of what was coming began to show +themselves in her bodily health. To crown the entanglement, Laugier +also found herself with child. Those religious meetings, those suppers +watered with the light wine of the country, led to a natural raising +of the spirits of a race so excitable, and the trance that followed +spread from one to another. With the more artful all this was mere +sham; but with the sanguine, vehement Laugier the trance was genuine +enough. In her own little room she had real fits of raving and +swooning, especially when Girard came in. A little later than Cadiere +she, too became fruitful. + +The danger was great. The girls were neither in a desert nor in the +heart of a convent, but rather, as one might say, in the open street: +Laugier in the midst of prying neighbours, Cadiere in her own family. +The latter's brother, the Jacobin, began to take Girard's long visits +amiss. One day when Girard came, he ventured to stay beside her as +though to watch over her safety. Girard boldly turned him out of the +room, and the mother angrily drove her son from the house. + +This was very like to bring on an explosion. Of course, the young +man, swelling with rage at this hard usage, at this expulsion from his +home, would cry aloud to the Preaching Friars, who in their turn would +seize so fair an opening, to go about repeating the story and stirring +up the whole town against the Jesuit. The latter, however, resolved to +meet them with a strangely daring move, to save himself by a crime. +The libertine became a scoundrel. + +He knew his victim, had seen the scrofulous traces of her childhood, +traces healed up but still looking different from common scars. Some +of these were on her feet, others a little below her bosom. He formed +a devilish plan of renewing the wounds and passing them off as +"_stigmata_," like those procured from heaven by St. Francis and other +saints, who sought after the closest conformity with their pattern, +the crucified Redeemer, even to bearing on themselves the marks of the +nails and the spear-wound in the side. The Jesuits were distressed at +having nought to show against the miracles of the Jansenists. Girard +felt sure of pleasing them by an unlooked-for miracle. He could not +but receive the support of his own order, of their house at Toulon. +One of them, old Sabatier, was ready to believe anything: he had of +yore been Cadiere's confessor, and this affair would bring him into +credit. Another of these was Father Grignet, a pious old dotard, who +would see whatever they pleased. If the Carmelites or any others were +minded to have their doubts, they might be taught, by warnings from a +high quarter, to consult their safety by keeping silence. Even the +Jacobin Cadiere, hitherto a stern and jealous foe, might find his +account in turning round and believing in a tale which made his family +illustrious and himself the brother of a saint. + +"But," some will say, "did not the thing come naturally? We have +instances numberless, and well-attested, of persons really marked with +the sacred wounds." + +The reverse is more likely. When she was aware of the new wounds, she +felt ashamed and distressed with the fear of displeasing Girard by +this return of her childish ailments; for such she deemed the sores +which he had opened afresh while she lay unconscious in the trance. So +she sped away to a neighbour, one Madame Truc, who dabbled in physic, +and of her she bought, as if for her youngest brother, an ointment to +burn away the sores. + +She would have thought herself guilty of a great sin, if she had not +told everything to Girard. So, however fearful she might be of +displeasing and disgusting him, she spoke of this matter also. Looking +at the wounds, he began playing his comedy, rebuked her attempt to +heal them, and thus set herself against God. They were the marks, he +said, of Heaven. Falling on his knees, he kissed the wounds on her +feet. She crossed herself in self-abasement, struggled long-time +against such a belief. Girard presses and scolds, makes her show him +her side, and looks admiringly at the wound. "I, too," he said, "have +a wound; but mine is within." + +And now she is fain to believe in herself as a living miracle. Her +acceptance of a thing so startling was greatly quickened by the fact, +that Sister Remusat was just then dead. She had seen her in glory, her +heart borne upward by the angels. Who was to take her place on earth? +Who should inherit her high gifts, the heavenly favours wherewith she +had been crowned? Girard offered her the succession, corrupting her +through her pride. + +From that time she was changed. In her vanity she set down every +natural movement within her as holy. The loathings, the sudden starts +of a woman great with child, of all which she knew nothing, were +accounted for as inward struggles of the Spirit. As she sat at table +with her family on the first day of Lent, she suddenly beheld the +Saviour, who said, "I will lead thee into the desert, where thou shalt +share with Me all the love and all the suffering of the holy Forty +Days." She shuddered for dread of the suffering she must undergo. But +still she would offer up her single self for a whole world of sinners. +Her visions were all of blood; she had nothing but blood before her +eyes. She beheld Jesus like a sieve running blood. She herself began +to spit blood, and lose it in other ways. At the same time her nature +seemed quite changed. The more she suffered, the more amorous she +grew. On the twentieth day of Lent she saw her name coupled with that +of Girard. Her pride, raised and quickened by these new sensations, +enabled her to comprehend the _special sway_ enjoyed by Mary, the +Woman, with respect to God. She felt _how much lower angels are_ than +the least of saints, male or female. She saw the Palace of Glory, and +mistook herself for the Lamb. To crown these illusions she felt +herself lifted off the ground, several feet into the air. She could +hardly believe it, until Mdlle. Gravier, a respectable person, assured +her of the fact. Everyone came, admired, worshipped. Girard brought +his colleague Grignet, who knelt before her and wept with joy. + +Not daring to go to her every day, Girard often made her come to the +Jesuits' Church. There, before the altar, before the cross, he +surrendered himself to a passion all the fiercer for such a sacrilege. +Had she no scruples? did she still deceive herself? It seems as if, in +the midst of an elation still unfeigned and earnest, her conscience +was already dazed and darkened. Under cover of her bleeding wounds, +those cruel favours of her heavenly Spouse, she began to feel some +curious compensations.... + +In her reveries there are two points especially touching. One is the +pure ideal she had formed of a faithful union, when she fancied that +she saw her name and that of Girard joined together for ever in the +Book of Life. The other is her kindliness of heart, the charmingly +childlike nature which shines out through all her extravagances. On +Palm Sunday, looking at the joyous party around their family table, +she wept three hours together, for thinking that "on that very day no +one had asked Jesus to dinner." + +Through all that Lent, she could hardly eat anything: the little she +took was thrown up again. The last fifteen days she fasted altogether, +until she reached the last stage of weakness. Who would have believed +that against this dying girl, to whom nothing remained but the mere +breath, Girard could practise new barbarities? He had kept her sores +from closing. A new one was now formed on her right side. And at last, +on Good Friday, he gave the finishing touch to his cruel comedy, by +making her wear a crown of iron-wire, which pierced her forehead, +until drops of blood rolled down her face. All this was done without +much secresy. He began by cutting off her long hair and carrying it +away. He ordered the crown of one Bitard, a cagemaker in the town. She +did not show herself to her visitors with the crown on: they saw the +result only, the drops of blood and the bleeding visage. Impressions +of the latter, like so many _Veronicas_,[111] were taken off on +napkins, and doubtless given away by Girard to people of great piety. + + [111] After the saint of that name, whose handkerchief + received the impress of Christ's countenance.--TRANS. + +The mother, in her own despite, became an abettor in all this +juggling. In truth, she was afraid of Girard; she began to find him +capable of anything, and somebody, perhaps the Guiol, had told her, in +the deepest confidence, that, if she said a word against him, her +daughter would not be alive twenty-four hours. + +Cadiere, for her part, never lied about the matter. In the narrative +taken down from her own lips of what happened this Lent, she expressly +tells of a crown, with sharp points, which stuck in her head, and made +it bleed. Nor did she then make any secret of the source whence came +the little crosses she gave her visitors. From a model supplied by +Girard, they were made to her order by one of her kinsfolk, a +carpenter in the Arsenal. + +On Good Friday, she remained twenty-four hours in a swoon, which they +called a trance; remained in special charge of Girard, whose +attentions weakened her, and did her deadly harm. She was now three +months gone with child. The saintly martyr, the transfigured marvel, +was already beginning to fill out. Desiring, yet dreading the more +violent issues of a miscarriage, he plied her daily with reddish +powders and dangerous drinks. + +Much rather would he have had her die, and so have rid himself of the +whole business. At any rate, he would have liked to get her away from +her mother, to bury her safe in a convent. Well acquainted with houses +of that sort, he knew, as Picard had done in the Louviers affair, how +cleverly and discreetly such cases as Cadiere's could be hidden away. +He talked of it this very Good Friday. But she seemed too weak to be +taken safely from her bed. At last, however, four days after Easter, a +miscarriage took place. + +The girl Laugier had also been having strange convulsive fits, and +absurd beginnings of _stigmata_: one of them being an old wound, +caused by her scissors when she was working as a seamstress, the other +an eruptive sore in her side. Her transports suddenly turned to +impious despair. She spat upon the crucifix: she cried out against +Girard, "that devil of a priest, who had brought a poor girl of +two-and-twenty into such a plight, only to forsake her afterwards!" +Girard dared not go and face her passionate outbreaks. But the women +about her, being all in his interest, found some way of bringing this +matter to a quiet issue. + +Was Girard a wizard, as people afterwards maintained? They might well +think so, who saw how easily, being neither young nor handsome, he had +charmed so many women. Stranger still it was, that after getting thus +compromised, he swayed opinion to such a degree. For a while, he +seemed to have enchanted the whole town. + +The truth was, that everyone knew the strength of the Jesuits. Nobody +cared to quarrel with them. It was hardly reckoned safe to speak ill +of them, even in a whisper. The bulk of the priesthood consisted of +monklings of the Mendicant orders, who had no powerful friends or high +connections. The Carmelites themselves, jealous and hurt as they were +at losing Cadiere, kept silence. Her brother, the young Jacobin, was +lectured by his trembling mother into resuming his old circumspect +ways. Becoming reconciled to Girard, he came at length to serve him as +devotedly as did his younger brother, even lending himself to a +curious trick by which people were led to believe that Girard had the +gift of prophecy. + + * * * * * + +Such weak opposition as he might have to fear, would come only from +the very person whom he seemed to have most thoroughly mastered. +Submissive hitherto, Cadiere now gave some slight tokens of a coming +independence which could not help showing itself. On the 30th of +April, at a country party got up by the polite Girard, and to which he +sent his troop of young devotees in company with Guiol, Cadiere fell +into deep thought. The fair spring-time, in that climate so very +charming, lifted her heart up to God. She exclaimed with a feeling of +true piety, "Thee, Thee only, do I seek, O Lord! Thine angels are not +enough for me." Then one of the party, a blithesome girl, having, in +the Provencial fashion, hung a tambourine round her neck, Cadiere +skipped and danced about like the rest; with a rug thrown across her +shoulders, she danced the Bohemian measure, and made herself giddy +with a hundred mad capers. + +She was very unsettled. In May she got leave from her mother to make a +trip to Sainte-Baume, to the Church of St. Mary Magdalen, the chief +saint of girls on penance. Girard would only let her go under charge +of two faithful overlookers, Guiol and Reboul. But though she had +still some trances on the way, she showed herself weary of being a +passive tool to the violent spirit, whether divine or devilish, that +annoyed her. The end of her year's _possession_ was not far off. Had +she not won her freedom? Once issued forth from the gloom and +witcheries of Toulon, into the open air, in the midst of nature, +beneath the full sunshine, the prisoner regained her soul, withstood +the stranger spirit, dared to be herself, to use her own will. +Girard's two spies were far from edified thereat. On their return from +this short journey, from the 17th to the 22nd May, they warned him of +the change. He was convinced of it from his own experience. She fought +against the trance, seeming no longer wishful to obey aught save +reason. + +He had thought to hold her both by his power of charming and through +the holiness of his high office, and, lastly, by right of possession +and carnal usage. But he had no hold upon her at all. The youthful +soul, which, after all, had not been so much conquered as +treacherously surprised, resumed its own nature. This hurt him. +Besides his business of pedant, his tyranny over the children he +chastised at will, over nuns not less at his disposal, there remained +within a hard bottom of domineering jealousy. He determined to snatch +Cadiere back by punishing this first little revolt, if such a name +could be given to the timid fluttering of a soul rising again from its +long compression. On the 22nd May she confessed to him after her wont; +but he refused to absolve her, declaring her to be so guilty that on +the morrow he would have to lay upon her a very great penance indeed. + +What would that be? A fast? But she was weakened and wasted already. +Long prayers, again, were not in fashion with Quietist directors,--were +in fact forbidden. There remained the _discipline_, or bodily +chastisement. This punishment, then everywhere habitual, was enforced +as prodigally in convents as in colleges. It was a simple and summary +means of swift execution, sometimes, in a rude and simple age, carried +out in the churches themselves. The _Fabliaux_ show us an artless +picture of manners, where, after confessing husband and wife, the +priest gave them the discipline without any ceremony, just as they +were, behind the confessional. Scholars, monks, nuns, were all +punished in the same way.[112] + + [112] The Dauphin was cruelly flogged. A boy of fifteen, + according to St. Simon, died from the pain of a like + infliction. The prioress of the Abbey-in-the-Wood, pleaded + before the King against the "afflictive chastisement" + threatened by her superior. For the credit of the convent, + she was spared the public shame; but the superior, to whom + she was consigned, doubtless punished her in a quiet way. The + immoral tendency of such a practice became more and more + manifest. Fear and shame led to woeful entreaties and + unworthy bargains. + +Girard knew that a girl like Cadiere, all unused to shame, and very +modest--for what she had hitherto suffered took place unknown to +herself in her sleep--would feel so cruelly tortured, so fatally +crushed by this unseemly chastisement, as utterly to lose what little +buoyancy she had. She was pretty sure too, if we must speak out, to be +yet more cruelly mortified than other women, in respect of the pang +endured by her woman's vanity. With so much suffering, and so many +fasts, followed by her late miscarriage, her body, always delicate, +seemed worn away to a shadow. All the more surely would she shrink +from any exposure of a form so lean, so wasted, so full of aches. Her +swollen legs and such-like small infirmities would serve to enhance +her humiliation. + +We lack the courage to relate what followed. It may all be read in +those three depositions, so artless, so manifestly unfeigned, in +which, without being sworn, she made it her duty to avow what +self-interest bade her conceal, owning even to things which were +afterwards turned to the cruellest account against her. + +Her first deposition was made on the spur of the moment, before the +spiritual judge who was sent to take her by surprise. In this we seem +to be ever hearing the utterances of a young heart that speaks as +though in God's own presence. The second was taken before the King--I +should rather say before the magistrate who represented him, the +Lieutenant Civil and Criminal of Toulon. The last was heard before +the great assembly of the Parliament of Aix. + +Observe that all three, agreeing as they do wonderfully together, were +printed at Aix under the eye of her enemies, in a volume where, as I +shall presently prove, an attempt was made to extenuate the guilt of +Girard, and fasten the reader's gaze on every point likely to tell +against Cadiere. And yet the editor could not help inserting +depositions like these, which bear with crushing weight on the man he +sought to uphold. + +It was a monstrous piece of inconsistency on Girard's part. He first +frightened the poor girl, and then suddenly took a base, a cruel +advantage of her fears. + +In this case no plea of love can be offered in extenuation. The truth +is far otherwise: he loved her no more. And this forms the most +dreadful part of the story. We have seen how cruelly he drugged her; +we have now to see her utterly forsaken. He owed her a grudge for +being of greater worth than those other degraded women. He owed her a +grudge for having unwittingly tempted him and brought him into danger. +Above all, he could not forgive her for keeping her soul in safety. He +sought only to tame her down, but caught hopefully at her oft-renewed +assurance, "I feel that I shall not live." Villanous profligate that +he was, bestowing his shameful kisses on that poor shattered body +whose death he longed to see! + +How did he account to her for this shocking antagonism of cruelty and +caresses? Was it meant to try her patience and obedience, or did he +boldly pass on to the true depths of Molinos' teaching, that "only by +dint of sinning can sin be quelled"? Did she take it all in full +earnest, never perceiving that all this show of justice, penitence, +expiation, was downright profligacy and nothing else? + +She did not care to understand him in the strange moral crash that +befell her after that 23rd May, under the influence of a mild warm +June. She submitted to her master, of whom she was rather afraid, and +with a singularly servile passion carried on the farce of undergoing +small penances day by day. So little regard did Girard show for her +feelings that he never hid from her his relations with other women. +All he wanted was to get her into a convent. Meanwhile she was his +plaything: she saw him, let him have his way. Weak, and yet further +weakened by the shame that unnerved her, growing sadder and more sad +at heart, she had now but little hold on life, and would keep on +saying, in words that brought no sorrow to Girard's soul, "I feel that +I shall soon be dead." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +CADIERE IN THE CONVENT: 1730. + + +The Abbess of the Ollioules Convent was young for an abbess, being +only thirty-eight years old. She was not wanting in mind. She was +lively, swift alike in love and in hatred, hurried away by her heart +and her senses also, endowed with very little of the tact and the +moderation needed for the governing of such a body. + +This nunnery drew its livelihood from two sources. On the one side, +there came to it from Toulon two or three nuns of consular families, +who brought good dowers with them, and therefore did what they +pleased. They lived with the Observantine monks who had the ghostly +direction of the convent. On the other hand, these monks, whose order +had spread to Marseilles and many other places, picked up some little +boarders and novices who paid for their keep: a contact full of danger +and unpleasantness for the children, as one may see by the Aubany +affair. + +There was no real confinement, nor much internal order. In the +scorching summer nights of that African climate, peculiarly oppressive +and wearying in the airless passes of Ollioules, nuns and novices +went to and fro with the greatest freedom. The very same things were +going on at Ollioules in 1730 which we saw in 1630 at Loudun. The bulk +of nuns, well-nigh a dozen out of the fifteen who made up the house, +being rather forsaken by the monks, who preferred ladies of loftier +position, were poor creatures, sick at heart, and disinherited, with +nothing to console them but tattling, child's play, and other +school-girls' tricks. + +The abbess was afraid that Cadiere would soon see through all this. +She made some demur about taking her in. Anon, with some abruptness, +she entirely changed her cue. In a charming letter, all the more +flattering as sent so unexpectedly from such a lady to so young a +girl, she expressed a hope of her leaving the ghostly guidance of +Father Girard. The girl was not, of course, to be transferred to her +Observantines, who were far from capable of the charge. The abbess had +formed the bold, enlivening idea of taking her into her own hands and +becoming her sole director. + +She was very vain. Deeming herself more agreeable than an old Jesuit +confessor, she reckoned on making this prodigy her own, on conquering +her without trouble. She would have worked the young saint for the +benefit of her house. + +She paid her the marked compliment of receiving her on the threshold, +at the street-door. She kissed her, caught her up, led her into the +abbess's own fine room, and bade her share it with herself. She was +charmed with her modesty, with her invalid grace, with a certain +strangeness at once mysterious and melting. In that short journey the +girl had suffered a great deal. The abbess wanted to lay her down in +her own bed, saying she loved her so that she would have them sleep +together like sisters in one bed. + +For her purpose this was probably more than was needful. It would have +been quite enough to have the saint under her own roof. She would now +have too much the look of a little favourite. The lady, however, was +surprised at the young girl's hesitation, which doubtless sprang from +her modesty or her humility; in part, perhaps, from a comparison of +her own ill-health with the young health and blooming beauty of the +other. But the abbess tenderly urged her request. + +Under the influence of a fondling so close and so continual, she +deemed that Girard would be forgotten. With all abbesses it had become +the ruling fancy, the pet ambition, to confess their own nuns, +according to the practice allowed by St. Theresa. By this pleasant +scheme of hers the same result would come out of itself, the young +woman telling her confessors only of small things, but keeping the +depths of her heart for one particular person. Caressed continually by +one curious woman, at eventide, in the night, when her head was on the +pillow, she would have let out many a secret, whether her own or +another's. + +From this living entanglement she could not free herself at the +first. She slept with the abbess. The latter thought she held her fast +by a twofold tie, by the opposite means employed on the saint and on +the woman; that is, on the nervous, sensitive, and, through her +weakness, perhaps sensual girl. Her story, her sayings, whatever fell +from her lips, were all written down. From other sources she picked up +the meanest details of her physical life, and forwarded the report +thereof to Toulon. She would have made her an idol, a pretty little +pet doll. On a slope so slippery the work of allurement doubtless +moved apace. But the girl had scruples and a kind of fear. She made +one great effort, of which her weak health would have made her seem +incapable. She humbly asked leave to quit that dove's-nest, that couch +too soft and delicate, to go and live in common with the novices or +the boarders. + +Great was the abbess's surprise; great her mortification. She fancied +herself scorned. She took a spite against the thankless girl, and +never forgave her. + + * * * * * + +From the others Cadiere met with a very pleasant welcome. The mistress +of the novices, Madame de Lescot, a nun from Paris, refined and good, +was a worthier woman than the abbess. She seemed to understand the +other--to see in her a poor prey of fate, a young heart full of God, +but cruelly branded by some eccentric spell which seemed like to hurry +her onward to disgrace, to some unhappy end. She busied herself +entirely with looking after the girl, saving her from her own +rashness, interpreting her to others, excusing those things which +might in her be least excusable. + +Saving the two or three noble ladies who lived with the monks and had +small relish for the higher mysticism, they were all fond of her, and +took her for an angel from heaven. Their tender feelings having little +else to engage them, became concentred in her and her alone. They +found her not only pious and wonderfully devout, but a good child +withal, kind-hearted, winning, and entertaining. They were no longer +listless and sick at heart. She engaged and edified them with her +dreams, with stories true, or rather, perhaps, unfeigned, mingled ever +with touches of purest tenderness. She would say, "At night I go +everywhere, even to America. Everywhere I leave letters bidding people +repent. To-night I shall go and seek you out, even when you have +locked yourselves in. We will all go together into the Sacred Heart." + +The miracle was wrought. Each of them at midnight, so she said, +received the delightful visit. They all fancied they felt Cadiere +embracing them, and making them enter the heart of Jesus. They were +very frightened and very happy. Tenderest, most credulous of all, was +Sister Raimbaud, a woman of Marseilles, who tasted this happiness +fifteen times in three months, or nearly once in every six days. + +It was purely the effect of imagination. The proof is, that Cadiere +visited all of them at one same moment. The abbess meanwhile was +hurt, being roused at the first to jealousy by the thought that she +only had been left out, and afterwards feeling assured that, lost as +the girl might be in her own dreams, she would get through so many +intimate friends but too clear an inkling into the scandals of the +house. + +These were scarcely hidden from her at all. But as nothing came to +Cadiere save by the way of spiritual insight, she fancied they had +been told her in a revelation. Here her kindliness shone out. She felt +a large compassion for the God who was thus outraged. And once again +she imagined herself bound to atone for the rest, to save the sinners +from the punishment they deserved, by draining herself the worst +cruelties which the rage of devils would have power to wreak. + +All this burst upon her on the 25th June, the Feast of St. John. She +was spending the evening with the sisters in the novices' rooms. With +a loud cry she fell backward in contortions, and lost all +consciousness. + +When she came to, the novices surrounded her, waiting eager to hear +what she was going to say. But the governess, Madame Lescot, guessed +what she would say, felt that she was about to ruin herself. So she +lifted her up, and led her straight to her room, where she found +herself quite flayed, and her linen covered with blood. + +Why did Girard fail her amidst these struggles inward and from +without? She could not make him out. She had much need of support, and +yet he never came, except for one moment at rare intervals, to the +parlour. + +She wrote to him on the 28th June, by her brothers; for though she +could read, she was scarcely able to write. She called to him in the +most stirring, the most urgent tones, and he answers by putting her +off. He has to preach at Hyeres, he has a sore throat, and so on. + +Wonderful to tell, it is the abbess herself who brings him thither. No +doubt she was uneasy at Cadiere's discovering so much of the inner +life of the convent. Making sure that the girl would talk of it to +Girard, she wished to forestal her. In a very flattering and tender +note of the 3rd July, she besought the Jesuit to come and see herself +first, for she longed, between themselves, to be his pupil, his +disciple, as humble Nicodemus had been of Christ. "Under your +guidance, by the blessing of that holy freedom which my post ensures +me, I should move forward swiftly and noiselessly in the path of +virtue. The state of our young candidate here will serve me as a fair +and useful pretext." + +A startling, ill-considered step, betraying some unsoundness in the +lady's mind. Having failed to supplant Girard with Cadiere, she now +essayed to supplant Cadiere with Girard. Abruptly, without the least +preface, she stepped forward. She made her decision, like a great +lady, who was still agreeable and quite sure of being taken at her +word, who would go so far as even to talk of the _freedom_ she +enjoyed! + +In taking so false a step she started from a true belief that Girard +had ceased to care much for Cadiere. But she might have guessed that +he had other things to perplex him in Toulon. He was disturbed by an +affair no longer turning upon a young girl, but on a lady of ripe age, +easy circumstances, and good standing; on his wisest penitent, Mdlle. +Gravier. Her forty years failed to protect her. He would have no +self-governed sheep in his fold. One day, to her surprise and +mortification, she found herself pregnant, and loud was her wail +thereat. + +Taken up with this new adventure, Girard looked but coldly on the +abbess's unforeseen advances. He mistrusted them as a trap laid for +him by the Observantines. He resolved to be cautious, saw the abbess, +who was already embarrassed by her rash step, and then saw Cadiere, +but only in the chapel where he confessed her. + +The latter was hurt by his want of warmth. In truth his conduct showed +strange inconsistencies. He unsettled her with his light, agreeable +letters, full of little sportive threats which might have been called +lover-like. And yet he never deigned to see her save in public. + +In a note written the same evening she revenged herself in a very +delicate way. She said that when he granted her absolution, she felt +wonderfully dissevered both from herself and from _every other +creature_. + +It was just what Girard would have wanted. His plots had fallen into a +sad tangle, and Cadiere was in the way. Her letter enchanted him: far +from being annoyed with her, he enjoined her to keep dissevered. At +the same time, he hinted at the need he had for caution. He had +received a letter, he said, warning him sharply of her faults. +However, as he would set off on the 6th July for Marseilles, he would +see her on the road. + +She awaited him, but no Girard came. Her agitation was very great. It +brought on a sharp fit of her old bodily distemper. She spoke of it to +her dear Sister Raimbaud, who would not leave her, who slept with her, +against the rules. This was on the night of the 6th July, when the +heat in that close oven of Ollioules was most oppressive and +condensed. At four or five o'clock, seeing her writhe in sharp +suffering, the other "thought she had the colic, and went to fetch +some fire from the kitchen." While she was gone, Cadiere tried by one +last effort to bring Girard to her side forthwith. Whether with her +nails she had re-opened the wounds in her head, or whether she had +stuck upon it the sharp iron crown, she somehow made herself all +bloody. The pain transfigured her, until her eyes sparkled again. + +This lasted not less than two hours. The nuns flocked to see her in +this state, and gazed admiringly. They would even have brought their +Observantines thither, had Cadiere not prevented them. + +The abbess would have taken good care to tell Girard nothing, lest he +should see her in a plight so touching, so very pitiful. But good +Madame Lescot comforted the girl by sending the news to the father. He +came, but like a true juggler, instead of going up to her room at +once, had himself an ecstatic fit in the chapel, staying there a whole +hour on his knees, prostrate before the Holy Sacrament. Going at +length upstairs, he found Cadiere surrounded by all the nuns. They +tell him how for a moment she looked as if she was at mass, how she +seemed to open her lips to receive the Host. "Who should know that +better than myself?" said the knave. "An angel had told me. I repeated +the mass, and gave her the sacrament from Toulon." They were so upset +by the miracle, that one of them was two days ill. Girard then +addressed Cadiere with unseemly gaiety: "So, so, little glutton! would +you rob me of half my share?" + +They withdraw respectfully, leaving these two alone. Behold him face +to face with his bleeding victim, so pale, so weak, but agitated all +the more! Anyone would have been greatly moved. The avowal expressed +by her blood, her wounds, rather than spoken words, was likely to +reach his heart. It was a humbling sight; but who would not have +pitied her? This innocent girl could for one moment yield to nature! +In her short unhappy life, a stranger as she was to the charms of +sense, the poor young saint could still show one hour of weakness! All +he had hitherto enjoyed of her without her knowledge, became mere +nought. With her soul, her will, he would now be master of everything. + +In her deposition Cadiere briefly and bashfully said that she lost all +knowledge of what happened next. In a confession made to one of her +friends she uttered no complaints, but let her understand the truth. + +And what did Girard do in return for so charmingly bold a flight of +that impatient heart? He scolded her. He was only chilled by a warmth +which would have set any other heart on fire. His tyrannous soul +wanted nothing but the dead, the merest plaything of his will. And +this girl, by the boldness of her first move, had forced him to come. +The scholar had drawn the master along. The peevish pedant treated the +matter as he would have treated a rebellion at school. His lewd +severities, his coolly selfish pursuit of a cruel pleasure, blighted +the unhappy girl, who now had nothing left her but remorse. + +It was no less shocking a fact, that the blood poured out for his sake +had no other effect than to tempt him to make the most of it for his +own purposes. In this, perhaps his last, interview he sought to make +so far sure of the poor thing's discretion, that, however forsaken by +him, she herself might still believe in him. He asked if he was to be +less favoured than the nuns who had seen the miracle. She let herself +bleed before him. The water with which he washed away the blood he +drank himself,[113] and made her drink also, and by this hateful +communion, he thought to bind fast her soul. + + [113] This communion of blood prevailed among the Northern + _Reiters_. See my _Origines_. + +This lasted two or three hours, and it was now near noon. The abbess +was scandalized. She resolved to go with the dinner herself, and make +them open the door. Girard took some tea: it being Friday, he +pretended to be fasting; though he had doubtless armed himself well at +Toulon. Cadiere asked for coffee. The lay sister who managed the +kitchen was surprised at this on such a day. But without that +strengthening draught she would have fainted away. It set her up a +little, and she kept hold of Girard still. He stayed with her, no +longer indeed locked in, till four o'clock, seeking to efface the +gloomy impression caused by his conduct in the morning. By dint of +lying about friendship and fatherhood, he somewhat reassured the +susceptible creature, and calmed her troubled spirits. She showed him +the way out, and, walking after him, took, childlike, two or three +skips for joy. He said, drily, "Little fool!" + + * * * * * + +She paid heavily for her weakness. At nine of that same night she had +a dreadful vision, and was heard crying out, "O God! keep off from me! +get back!" On the morning of the 8th, at mass she did not stay for the +communion, deeming herself, no doubt, unworthy, but made her escape +to her own room. Thereon arose much scandal. Yet so greatly was she +beloved, that one of the nuns ran after her, and, telling a +compassionate falsehood, swore she had beheld Jesus giving her the +sacrament with His own hand. + +Madame Lescot delicately and cleverly wrote a legend out of the mystic +ejaculations, the holy sighs, the devout tears, and whatever else +burst forth from this shattered heart. Strange to say, these women +tenderly conspired to shield a woman. Nothing tells more than this in +behalf of poor Cadiere and her delightful gifts. Already in one +month's time she had become the child of all. They defended her in +everything she did. Innocent though she might be, they saw in her only +the victim of the Devil's attacks. One kind sturdy woman of the +people, Matherone, daughter of the Ollioules locksmith, and porteress +herself to the convent, on seeing some of Girard's indecent liberties, +said, in spite of them, "No matter: she is a saint." And when he once +talked of taking her from the convent, she cried out, "Take away our +Mademoiselle Cadiere! I will have an iron door made to keep her from +going." + +Alarmed at the state of things, and at the use to which it might be +turned by the abbess and her monks, Cadiere's brethren who came to her +every day, took courage to be beforehand; and in a formal letter +written in her name to Girard, reminded him of the revelation given +to her on the 25th June regarding the morals of the Observantines. It +was time, they said, "to carry out God's purposes in this matter," +namely, of course, to demand an inquiry, to accuse the accusers. + +Their excess of boldness was very rash. Cadiere, now all but dying, +had no such thoughts in her head. Her women-friends imagined that he +who had caused the disturbance would, perhaps, bring back the calm. +They besought Girard to come and confess her. A dreadful scene took +place. At the confessional she uttered cries and wailings audible +thirty paces off. The curious among them found some amusement +listening to her, and were not disappointed. Girard was inflicting +chastisement. Again and again he said, "Be calm, mademoiselle!" In +vain did he try to absolve her. She would not be absolved. On the +12th, she had so sharp a pang below her heart, that she felt as though +her sides were bursting. On the 14th, she seemed fast dying, and her +mother was sent for. She received the viaticum; and on the morrow made +a public confession, "the most touching, the most expressive that had +ever been heard. We were drowned in tears." On the 20th, she was in a +state of heart-rending agony. After that she had a sudden and saving +change for the better, marked by a very soothing vision. She beheld +the sinful Magdalen pardoned, caught up into glory, filling in heaven +the place which Lucifer had lost. + +Girard, however, could only ensure her discretion by corrupting her +yet further, by choking her remorse. Sometimes he would come to the +parlour and greet her with bold embraces. But oftener he sent his +faithful followers, Guiol and others, who sought to initiate her into +their own disgraceful secrets, while seeming to sympathise tenderly +with the sufferings of their outspoken friend. Girard not only winked +at this, but himself spoke freely to Cadiere of such matters as the +pregnancy of Mdlle. Gravier. He wanted her to ask him to Ollioules, to +calm his irritation, to persuade him that such a circumstance might be +a delusion of the Devil's causing, which could perchance be dispelled. + +These impure teachings made no way with Cadiere. They were sure to +anger her brethren, to whom they were not unknown. The letters they +wrote in her name are very curious. Enraged at heart and sorely +wounded, accounting Girard a villain, but obliged to make their sister +speak of him with respectful tenderness, they still, by snatches, let +their wrath become visible. + +As for Girard's letters, they are pieces of laboured writing, +manifestly meant for the trial which might take place. Let us talk of +the only one which he did not get into his hands to tamper with. It is +dated the 22nd July. It is at once sour and sweet, agreeable, +trifling, the letter of a careless man. The meaning of it is thus:-- + +"The bishop reached Toulon this morning, and will go to see +Cadiere.... They will settle together what to do and say. If the Grand +Vicar and Father Sabatier wish to see her, and ask to see her wounds, +she will tell them that she has been forbidden to do or say aught. + +"I am hungering to see you again, to see the whole of you. You know +that I only demand _my right_. It is so long since I have seen more +than half of you (he means to say, at the parlour grating). Shall I +tire you? Well, do you not also tire me?" And so on. + +A strange letter in every way. He distrusts alike the bishop and the +Jesuit, his own colleague, old Sabatier. It is at bottom the letter of +a restless culprit. He knows that in her hands she holds his letters, +his papers, the means, in short, of ruining him. The two young men +write back in their sister's name a spirited answer--the only one that +has a truthful sound. They answer him line for line, without insult, +but with a roughness often ironical, and betraying the wrath pent-up +within them. The sister promises to obey him, to say nothing either to +the bishop or the Jesuit. She congratulates him on having "boldness +enough to exhort others to suffer." She takes up and returns him his +shocking gallantry, but in a shocking way; and here we trace a man's +hand, the hand of those two giddy heads. + +Two days after, they went and told her to decide on leaving the +convent forthwith. Girard was dismayed. He thought his papers would +disappear with her. The greatness of his terror took away his senses. +He had the weakness to go and weep at the Ollioules parlour, to fall +on his knees before her, and ask her if she had the heart to leave +him. Touched by his words, the poor girl said "No," went forward, and +let him embrace her. And yet this Judas wanted only to deceive her, to +gain a few days' time for securing help from a higher quarter. + +On the 29th there is an utter change. Cadiere stays at Ollioules, begs +him to excuse her, vows submission. It is but too clear that he has +set some mighty influences at work; that from the 29th threats come +in, perhaps from Aix, and presently from Paris. The Jesuit bigwigs +have been writing, and their courtly patrons from Versailles. + +In such a struggle, what were the brethren to do? No doubt they took +counsel with their chiefs, who would certainly warn them against +setting too hard on Girard as a _libertine confessor_; for thereby +offence would be given to all the clergy, who deemed confession their +dearest prize. It was needful, on the contrary; to sever him from the +priests by proving the strangeness of his teaching, by bringing him +forward as a _Quietist_. With that one word they might lead him a long +way. In 1698, a vicar in the neighbourhood of Dijon had been burnt for +Quietism. They conceived the idea of drawing up a memoir, dictated +apparently by their sister, to whom the plan was really unknown, in +which the high and splendid Quietism of Girard should be affirmed, +and therefore in effect denounced. This memoir recounted the visions +she had seen in Lent. In it the name of Girard was already in heaven. +She saw it joined with her own in the Book of Life. + +They durst not take this memoir to the bishop. But they got their +friend, little Camerle, his youthful chaplain, to steal it from them. +The bishop read it, and circulated some copies about the town. On the +21st August, Girard being at the palace, the bishop laughingly said to +him, "Well, father, so your name is in the Book of Life!" + +He was overcome, fancied himself lost, wrote to Cadiere in terms of +bitter reproach. Once more with tears he asked for his papers. Cadiere +in great surprise vowed that her memoir had never gone out of her +brother's hands. But when she found out her mistake, her despair was +unbounded. The sharpest pangs of body and soul beset her. Once she +thought herself on the point of death. She became like one mad. "I +long so much to suffer. Twice I caught up the rod of penance, and +wielded it so savagely as to draw a great deal of blood." In the midst +of this dreadful outbreak, which proved at once the weakness of her +head and the boundless tenderness of her conscience, Guiol finished +her by describing Girard as nearly dead. This raised her compassion to +the highest pitch. + +She was going to give up the papers. And yet it was but too clear +that these were her only safeguard and support, the only proofs of her +innocence, and the tricks of which she had been made the victim. To +give them up was to risk a change of characters, to risk the +imputation of having herself seduced a saint, the chance, in short, of +seeing all the blame transferred to her own side. + +But, if she must either be ruined herself or else ruin Girard, she +would far sooner accept the former result. A demon, Guiol of course, +tempted her in this very way, with the wondrous sublimity of such a +sacrifice. God, she wrote, asked of her a bloody offering. She could +tell her of saints who, being accused, did not justify, but rather +accused themselves, and died like lambs. This example Cadiere +followed. When Girard was accused before her, she defended him, +saying, "He is right, and I told a falsehood." + +She might have yielded up the letters of Girard only; but in so great +an outflowing of heart she would have no haggling, and so gave him +even copies of her own. + +Thus at the same time he held these drafts written by the Jacobin, and +the copies made and sent him by the other brother. Thenceforth he had +nothing to fear: no further check could be given him. He might make +away with them or put them back again; might destroy, blot out, and +falsify at pleasure. He was perfectly free to carry on his forger's +work, and he worked away to some purpose. Out of twenty-four letters, +sixteen remain; and these still read like elaborately forged +afterthoughts. + +With everything in his own hands, Girard could laugh at his foes. It +was now their turn to be afraid. The bishop, a man of the upper world, +was too well acquainted with Versailles and the name won by the +Jesuits not to treat them with proper tenderness. He even thought it +safest to make Girard some small amends for his unkind reproach about +The Book of Life; and so he graciously informed him that he would like +to stand godfather to the child of one of his kinsmen. + +The Bishops of Toulon had always been high lords. The list of them +shows all the first names of Provence, and some famous names from +Italy. From 1712 to 1737, under the Regency and Fleury, the bishop was +one of the La Tours of Pin. He was very rich, having also the Abbeys +of Aniane and St. William of the Desert, in Languedoc. He behaved +well, it was said, during the plague of 1721. However, he stayed but +seldom at Toulon, lived quite as a man of the world, never said mass, +and passed for something more than a lady's man. + +In July he went to Toulon, and though Girard would have turned him +aside from Ollioules and Cadiere, he was curious to see her +nevertheless. He saw her in one of her best moments. She took his +fancy, seemed to him a pretty little saint; and so far did he believe +in her enlightenment from above, as to speak to her thoughtlessly of +all his affairs, his interests, his future doings, consulting her as +he would have consulted a teller of fortunes. + +In spite, however, of the brethren's prayers he hesitated to take her +away from Ollioules and from Girard. A means was found of resolving +him. A report was spread about Toulon, that the girl had shown a +desire to flee into the wilderness, as her model saint, Theresa, had +essayed to do at twelve years old. Girard, they said, had put this +fancy into her head, that he might one day carry her off beyond the +diocese whose pride she was, and box-up his treasure in some far +convent, where the Jesuits, enjoying the whole monopoly, might turn to +the most account her visions, her miracles, her winsome ways as a +young saint of the people. The bishop felt much hurt. He instructed +the abbess to give Mdlle. Cadiere up to no one save her mother, who +was certain to come very shortly and take her away from the convent to +a country-house belonging to the family. + +In order not to offend Girard, they got Cadiere to write and say that, +if such a change incommoded him, he could find a colleague and give +her a second confessor. He saw their meaning, and preferred disarming +jealousy by abandoning Cadiere. He gave her up on the 15th September, +in a note most carefully worded and piteously humble, by which he +strove to leave her friendly and tender towards himself. "If I have +sometimes done wrong as concerning you, you will never at least forget +how wishful I have been to help you.... I am, and ever will be, all +yours in the Secret Heart of Jesus." + +The bishop, however, was not reassured. He fancied that the three +Jesuits, Girard, Sabatier, and Grignet, wanted to beguile him, and +some day, with some order from Paris, rob him of his little woman. On +the 17th September, he decided once for all to send his carriage, a +light fashionable _phaeton_, as it was called, and have her taken off +at once to her mother's country-house. + +By way of soothing and shielding her, of putting her in good trim, he +looked out for a confessor, and applied first to a Carmelite who had +confessed her before Girard came. But he, being an old man, declined. +Some others also probably hung back. The bishop had to take a +stranger, but three months come from the County (Avignon), one Father +Nicholas, prior of the Barefooted Carmelites. He was a man of forty, +endowed with brains and boldness, very firm and even stubborn. He +showed himself worthy of such a trust by rejecting it. It was not the +Jesuits he feared, but the girl herself. He foreboded no good +therefrom, thought that the angel might be an angel of darkness, and +feared that the Evil One under the shape of a gentle girl would deal +his blows with all the more baleful effect. + +But he could not see her without feeling somewhat reassured. She +seemed so very simple, so pleased at length to have a safe, steady +person, on whom she might lean. The continual wavering in which she +had been kept by Girard, had caused her the greatest suffering. On the +first day she spoke more than she had done for a month past, told him +of her life, her sufferings, her devotions, and her visions. Night +itself, a hot night in mid-September, did not stop her. In her room +everything was open, the windows, and the three doors. She went on +even to daybreak, while her brethren lay near her asleep. On the +morrow she resumed her tale under the vine-bower. The Carmelite was +amazed, and asked himself if the Devil could ever be so earnest in +praise of God. + +Her innocence was clear. She seemed a nice obedient girl, gentle as a +lamb, frolicsome as a puppy. She wanted to play at bowls, a common +game in those country-places, nor did he for his part refuse to join +her. + +If there was a spirit in her, it could not at any rate be called the +spirit of lying. On looking at her closely for a long time, you could +not doubt that her wounds now and then did really bleed. He took care +to make no such immodest scrutiny of them as Girard had done, +contenting himself with a look at the wound upon her foot. Of her +trances he saw quite enough. On a sudden, a burning heat would diffuse +itself everywhere from her heart. Losing her consciousness, she went +into convulsions and talked wildly. + +The Carmelite clearly perceived that in her were two persons, the +young woman and the Demon. The former was honest, nay, very fresh of +heart; ignorant, for all that had been done to her; little able to +understand the very things that had brought her into such sore +trouble. When, before confession, she spoke of Girard's kisses, the +Carmelite roughly said, "But those are very great sins." + +"O God!" she answered, weeping, "I am lost indeed, for he has done +much more than that to me!" + +The bishop came to see. For him the country-house was only the length +of a walk. She answered his questions artlessly, told him at least how +things began. The bishop was angry, mortified, very wroth. No doubt he +guessed the remainder. There was nought to keep him from raising a +great outcry against Girard. Not caring for the danger of a struggle +with the Jesuits, he entered thoroughly into the Carmelite's views, +allowed that she was bewitched, and added that _Girard himself was the +wizard_. He wanted to lay him that very moment under a solemn ban, to +bring him to disgrace and ruin. Cadiere prayed for him who had done +her so much wrong; vengeance she would not have. Falling on her knees +before the bishop, she implored him to spare Girard, to speak no more +of things so sorrowful. With touching humility, she said, "It is +enough for me to be enlightened at last, to know that I was living in +sin." Her Jacobin brother took her part, foreseeing the perils of such +a war, and doubtful whether the bishop would stand fast. + +Her attacks of disorder were now fewer. The season had changed. The +burning summer was over. Nature at length showed mercy. It was the +pleasant month of October. The bishop had the keen delight of feeling +that she had been saved by him. No longer under Girard's influence in +the stifling air of Ollioules, but well cared-for by her family, by +the brave and honest monk, protected, too, by the bishop, who never +grudged his visits, and who shielded her with his steady countenance, +the young girl became altogether calm. + +For seven weeks or so she seemed quite well-behaved. The bishop's +happiness was so great that he wanted the Carmelite, with Cadiere's +help, to look after Girard's other penitents, and bring them also back +to their senses. They should go to the country-house; how unwillingly, +and with how ill a grace we can easily guess. In truth, it was +strangely ill-judged to bring those women before the bishop's ward, a +girl so young still, and but just delivered from her own ecstatic +ravings. + +The state of things became ridiculous and sorely embittered. Two +parties faced each other, Girard's women and those of the bishop. On +the side of the latter were a German lady and her daughter, dear +friends of Cadiere's. On the other side were the rebels, headed by the +Guiol. With her the bishop treated, in hopes of getting her to enter +into relations with the Carmelite, and bring her friends over to him. +He sent her his own clerk, and then a solicitor, an old lover of +Guiol's. All this failing of any effect, the bishop came to his last +resource, determined to summon them all to his palace. Here they +mostly denied those trances and mystic marks of which they had made +such boast. One of them, Guiol, of course, astonished him yet more by +her shamelessly treacherous offer to prove to him, on the spot, that +they had no marks whatever about their bodies. They had deemed him +wanton enough to fall into such a snare. But he kept clear of it very +well, declining the offer with thanks to those who, at the cost of +their own modesty, would have had him copy Girard, and provoke the +laughter of all the town. + +The bishop was not lucky. On the one hand, these bold wenches made fun +of him. On the other, his success with Cadiere was now being undone. +She had hardly entered her own narrow lane in gloomy Toulon, when she +began to fall off. She was just in those dangerous and baleful centres +where her illness began, on the very field of the battle waged by the +two hostile parties. The Jesuits, whose rearguard everyone saw in the +Court, had on their side the crafty, the prudent, the knowing. The +Carmelite had none but the bishop with him, was not even backed by his +own brethren, nor yet by the clergy. He had one weapon, however, in +reserve. On the 8th November, he got out of Cadiere a written power to +reveal her confession in case of need. + +It was a daring, dauntless step, which made Girard shudder. He was +not very brave, and would have been undone had his cause not been that +of the Jesuits also. He cowered down in the depths of their college. +But his colleague Sabatier, an old, sanguine, passionate fellow, went +straight to the bishop's palace. He entered into the prelate's +presence, like another Popilius, bearing peace or war in his gown. He +pushed him to the wall, made him understand that a suit with the +Jesuits would lead to his own undoing; that he would remain for ever +Bishop of Toulon; would never rise to an archbishopric. Yet further, +with the freedom of an apostle strong at Versailles, he assured him +that if this affair exposed the morals of a Jesuit, it would shed no +less light on the morals of a bishop. In a letter, clearly planned by +Girard, it was pretended that the Jesuits held themselves ready in the +background, to hurl dreadful recriminations against the prelate, +declaring his way of life not only unepiscopal, but _abominable_ +withal. The sly, faithless Girard and the hot-headed Sabatier, swollen +with rage and spitefulness, would have pressed the calumnious charge. +They would not have failed to say that all this matter was about a +girl; that if Girard had taken care of her when ill, the bishop had +gotten her when she was well. What a commotion would be caused by such +a scandal in the well-regulated life of the great worldly lord! It +were too laughable a piece of chivalry to make war in revenge for the +maidenhood of a weak little fool, to embroil oneself for her sake with +all honest people! The Cardinal of Bonzi died indeed of grief at +Toulouse, but that was on account of a fair lady, the Marchioness of +Ganges. The bishop, on his part, risked his ruin, risked the chance of +being overwhelmed with shame and ridicule, for the child of a +retail-dealer in the Rue de l'Hopital! + +Sabatier's threatenings made all the greater impression, because the +bishop himself clung less firmly to Cadiere. He did not thank her for +falling ill again; for giving the lie to his former success; for doing +him a wrong by her relapse. He bore her a grudge for having failed to +cure her. He said to himself that Sabatier was in the right; that he +had better come to a compromise. The change was sudden--a kind of +warning from above. All at once, like Paul on the way to Damascus, he +beheld the light, and became a convert to the Jesuits. + +Sabatier would not let him go. He put paper before him, and made him +write and sign a decree forbidding the Carmelite, his agent with +Cadiere, and another forbidding her brother, the Jacobin. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE TRIAL OF CADIERE: 1730-1731. + + +We can guess how this alarming blow was taken by the Cadiere family. +The sick girl's attacks became frequent and fearful. By a cruel chance +they brought on a kind of epidemic among her intimate friends. Her +neighbour, the German lady, who had trances also, which she had +hitherto deemed divine, now fell into utter fright, and fancied they +came from hell. This worthy dame of fifty years remembered that she, +too, had often had unclean thoughts: she believed herself given over +to the Devil; saw nothing but devils about her; and escaping from her +own house in spite of her daughter's watchfulness, entreated shelter +from the Cadieres. From that time the house became unbearable; +business could not be carried on. The elder Cadiere inveighed +furiously against Girard, crying, "He shall be served like Gauffridi: +he, too, shall be burnt!" And the Jacobin added, "Rather would we +waste the whole of our family estate!" + +On the night of the 17th November, Cadiere screamed, and was like one +choking. They thought she was going to die. The eldest Cadiere, the +tradesman, lost his wits, and called out to his neighbours from the +window, "Help! the Devil is throttling my sister!" They came running +up almost in their shirts. The doctors and surgeons wanted to apply +the cupping-glasses to a case of what they called "suffocation of the +womb." While some were gone to fetch these, they succeeded in +unlocking her teeth and making her swallow a drop of brandy, which +brought her to herself. Meanwhile there also came to the girl some +doctors of the soul; first an old priest confessor to Cadiere's +mother, and then some parsons of Toulon. All this noise and shouting, +the arrival of the priests in full dress, the preparations for +exorcising, had brought everyone out into the street. The newcomers +kept asking what was the matter. "Cadiere has been bewitched by +Girard," was the continual reply. We may imagine the pity and the +wrath of the people. + +Greatly alarmed, but anxious to cast the fear back on others, the +Jesuits did a very barbarous thing. They returned to the bishop, +ordered and insisted that Cadiere should be brought to trial; that the +attack should be made that very day; that justice should make an +unforeseen descent on this poor girl, as she lay rattling in the +throat after the last dreadful seizure. + +Sabatier never left the bishop until the latter had called his judge, +his officer, the Vicar-general Larmedieu, and his prosecutor or +episcopal advocate, Esprit Reybaud, and commanded them to go to work +forthwith. + +By the Canon Law this was impossible, illegal. A _preliminary inquiry +was needed_ into the facts, before the judicial business could begin. +There was another difficulty: the spiritual judge had no right to make +such an arrest save for _a rejection of the Sacrament_. The two +church-lawyers must have made these objections. But Sabatier would +hear of no excuses. If matters were allowed to drag in this cold legal +way, he would miss his stroke of terror. + +Larmedieu was a compliant judge, a friend of the clergy. He was not +one of your rude magistrates who go straight before them, like blind +boars, on the high-road of the law, without seeing or respecting +anyone. He had shown great regard for Aubany, the patron of Ollioules, +during his trial; helping him to escape by the slowness of his own +procedure. Afterwards, when he knew him to be at Marseilles, as if +that was far from France, in the _ultima thule_ or _terra incognita_ +of ancient geographers, he would not budge any further. This, however, +was a very different case: the judge who was so paralytic against +Aubany, had wings, and wings of lightning, for Cadiere. It was nine in +the morning when the dwellers in the lane saw with much curiosity a +grand procession arrive at the Cadieres' door, with Master Larmedieu +and the episcopal advocate at the head, honoured by an escort of two +clergymen, doctors of theology. The house was invaded: the sick girl +was summoned before them. They made her swear to tell the truth +against herself; swear to defame herself by speaking out in the ears +of justice matters that touched her conscience and the confessional +only. + +She might have dispensed with an answer, for none of the usual forms +had been observed: but she would not raise the question. She took the +oath that was meant to disarm and betray her. For, being once bound +thereby, she told everything, even to those shameful and ridiculous +details which it must be very painful for any girl to acknowledge. + +Larmedieu's official statement and his first examination point to a +clearly settled agreement between him and the Jesuits. Girard was to +be brought forward as the dupe and prey of Cadiere's knavery. Fancy a +man of sixty, a doctor, professor, director of nuns, being therewithal +so innocent and credulous, that a young girl, a mere child, was enough +to draw him into the snare! The cunning, shameless wanton had beguiled +him with her visions, but failed to draw him into her own excesses. +Enraged thereat, she endowed him with every baseness that the fancy of +a Messalina could suggest to her! + +So far from giving grounds for any such idea, the examination brings +out the victim's gentleness in a very touching way. Evidently she +accuses others only through constraint, under the pressure of her oath +just taken. She is gentle towards her enemies, even to the faithless +Guiol who, in her brother's words, had betrayed her; had done her +worst to corrupt her; had ruined her, last of all, by making her give +up the papers which would have insured her safety. + +The Cadiere brothers were frightened at their sister's artlessness. In +her regard for her oath she gave herself up without reserve to be +vilified, alas! for ever; to have ballads sung about her; to be mocked +by the very foes of Jesuits and silly scoffing libertines. + +The mischief done, they wanted at least to have it defined, to have +the official report of the priests checked by some more serious +measure. Seeming though she did to be the party accused, they made her +the accuser, and prevailed on Marteli Chantard, the King's Lieutenant +Civil and Criminal, to come and take her deposition. In this document, +short and clear, the fact of her seduction is clearly established; +likewise the reproaches she uttered against Girard for his lewd +endearments, reproaches at which he only laughed; likewise the advice +he gave her, to let herself be possessed by the Demon; likewise the +means he used for keeping her wounds open, and so on. + +The King's officer, the Lieutenant, was bound to carry the matter +before his own court. For the spiritual judge in his hurry had failed +to go through the forms of ecclesiastic law, and so made his +proceedings null. But the lay magistrate lacked the courage for this. +He let himself be harnessed to the clerical inquiry, accepted +Larmedieu for his colleague, went himself to sit and hear the evidence +in the bishop's court. The clerk of the bishopric wrote it down, and +not the clerk of the King's Lieutenant. Did he write it down +faithfully? We have reason to doubt that, when we find him threatening +the witnesses, and going every night to show their statements to the +Jesuits. + +The two curates of Cadiere's parish, who were heard first, deposed +drily, not in her favour, yet by no means against her, certainly not +in favour of the Jesuits. These latter saw that everything was going +amiss for them. Lost to all shame, at the risk of angering the people, +they determined to break all down. They got from the bishop an order +to imprison Cadiere and the chief witnesses she wanted to be heard. +These were the German lady and Batarelle. The girl herself was placed +in the Refuge, a convent-prison; the ladies in a bridewell, the +_Good-Shepherd_, where mad women and foul streetwalkers needing +punishment were thrown. On the 26th November, Cadiere was dragged from +her bed and given over to the Ursulines, penitents of Girard's, who +laid her duly on some rotten straw. + +A fear of them thus established, the witnesses might now be heard. +They began with two, choice and respectable. One was the Guiol, +notorious for being Girard's pander, a woman of keen and clever +tongue, who was commissioned to hurl the first dart and open the wound +of slander. The other was Laugier, the little seamstress, whom Cadiere +had supported and for whose apprenticeship she had paid. While she lay +with child by Girard, this Laugier had cried out against him; now she +washed away her fault by sneering at Cadiere and defiling her +benefactress, but in a very clumsy way, like the shameless wanton she +was; ascribing to her impudent speeches quite contrary to her known +habits. Then came Mdlle. Gravier and her cousin Reboul--all the +_Girardites_, in short, as they were called in Toulon. + +But, do as they would, the light would burst forth now and then. The +wife of a purveyor in the house where these Girardites met together, +said, with cruel plainness, that she could not abide them, that they +disturbed the whole house; she spoke of their noisy bursts of +laughter, of their suppers paid for out of the money collected for the +poor, and so forth. + +They were sore afraid lest the nuns should speak out for Cadiere. The +bishop's clerk told them, as if from the bishop himself, that those +who spoke evil should be chastised. As a yet stronger measure, they +ordered back from Marseilles the gay Father Aubany, who had some +ascendant over the nuns. His affair with the girl he had violated was +got settled for him. Her parents were made to understand that justice +could do nothing in their case. The child's good name was valued at +eight hundred livres, which were paid on Aubany's account. So, full of +zeal, he returned, a thorough Jesuit, to his troop at Ollioules. The +poor troop trembled indeed, when this worthy father told them of his +commission to warn them that, if they did not behave themselves, "they +should be put to the torture." + +For all that, they could not get as much as they wanted from these +fifteen nuns. Two or three at most were on Girard's side, but all +stated facts, especially about the 7th July, which bore directly +against him. + +In despair the Jesuits came to an heroic decision, in order to make +sure of their witnesses. They stationed themselves in an outer hall +which led into the court. There they stopped those going in, tampered +with them, threatened them, and, if they were against Girard, coolly +debarred their entrance by thrusting them out of doors. + +Thus the clerical judge and the King's officer were only as puppets in +the Jesuits' hands. The whole town saw this and trembled. During +December, January, and February, the Cadiere family drew up and +diffused a complaint touching the way in which justice was denied them +and witnesses suborned. The Jesuits themselves felt that the place +would no longer hold them. They evoked help from a higher quarter. +This seemed best available in the shape of a decree of the Great +Council, which would have brought the matter before itself and hushed +up everything, as Mazarin had done in the Louviers affair. But the +Chancellor was D'Aguesseau; and the Jesuits had no wish to let the +matter go up to Paris. They kept it still in Provence. On the 16th +January, 1731, they got the King to determine that the Parliament of +Provence, where they had plenty of friends, should pass sentence on +the inquiry which two of its councillors were conducting at Toulon. + +M. Faucon, a layman, and M. de Charleval, a councillor of the Church, +came in fact and straightway marched down among the Jesuits. These +eager commissioners made so little secret of their loud and bitter +partiality, as to toss out an order for Cadiere's remand, just as they +might have done to an accused prisoner; whilst Girard was most +politely called up and allowed to go free, to keep on saying mass and +hearing confessions. And so the plaintiff was kept under lock and key, +in her enemies' hands, exposed to all manner of cruelty from Girard's +devotees. + +From these honest Ursulines she met with just such a reception as if +they had been charged to bring about her death. The room they gave her +was the cell of a mad nun who made everything filthy. In the nun's old +straw, in the midst of a frightful stench, she lay. Her kinsmen on the +morrow had much ado to get in a coverlet and mattress for her use. For +her nurse and keeper she was allowed a poor tool of Girard's, a +lay-sister, daughter to that very Guiol who had betrayed her; a girl +right worthy of her mother, capable of any wickedness, a source of +danger to her modesty, perhaps even to her life. They submitted her to +a course of penance in her case specially painful, refusing her the +right of confessing herself or taking the sacrament. She relapsed into +her illness from the time she was debarred the latter privilege. Her +fierce foe, the Jesuit Sabatier, came into her cell, and formed a new +and startling scheme to win her by a bribe of the holy wafer. The +bargaining began. They offered her terms: she should communicate if +she would only acknowledge herself a slanderer, unworthy of +communicating. In her excessive humbleness she might have done so. +But, while ruining herself, she would also have ruined the Carmelite +and her own brethren. + +Reduced to Pharisaical tricks, they took to expounding her speeches. +Whatever she uttered in a mystic sense they feigned to accept in its +material hardness. To free herself from such snares she displayed, +what they had least expected, very great presence of mind. + +A yet more treacherous plan for robbing her of the public sympathy and +setting the laughers against her, was to find her a lover. They +pretended that she had proposed to a young blackguard that they should +set off together and roam the world. + +The great lords of that day, being fond of having children and little +pages to wait on them, readily took in the better-mannered of their +peasant's sons. In this way had the bishop dealt with the boy of one +of his tenants. He washed his face, as it were; made him tidy. +Presently, when the favourite grew up, he gave him the tonsure, +dressed him up like an abbe, and dubbed him his chaplain at the age of +twenty. This person was the Abbe Camerle. Brought up with the footmen +and made to do everything, he was, like many a half-scrubbed country +youth, a sly, but simple lout. He saw that the prelate since his +arrival at Toulon had been curious about Cadiere and far from friendly +to Girard. He thought to please and amuse his master by turning +himself, at Ollioules, into a spy on their suspected intercourse. But +after the bishop changed through fear of the Jesuits, Camerle became +equally zealous in helping Girard with active service against Cadiere. + +He came one day, like another Joseph, to say that Mdlle. Cadiere had, +like Potiphar's wife, been tempting him, and trying to shake his +virtue. Had this been true, it was all the more cowardly of him thus +to punish her for a moment's weakness, to take so mean an advantage of +some light word. But his education as page and seminarist was not such +as to bring him either honour or the love of women. + +She extricated herself with spirit and success, covering him with +shame. The two angry commissioners saw her making so triumphant an +answer, that they cut the investigation short, and cut down the number +of her witnesses. Out of the sixty-eight she summoned, they allowed +but thirty-eight to appear. Regardless alike of the delays and the +forms of justice, they hurried forward the confronting of witnesses. +Yet nothing was gained, thereby. On the 25th and again on the 26th +February, she renewed her crushing declarations. + +Such was their rage thereat, that they declared their regret at the +want of torments and executioners in Toulon, "who might have made her +sing out a little." These things formed their _ultima ratio_. They +were employed, by the Parliaments through all that century. I have +before me a warm defence of torture,[114] written in 1780, by a +learned member of Parliament, who also became a member of the Great +Council; it was dedicated to the King, Louis XVI., and crowned with +the flattering approval of His Holiness Pius VI. + + [114] Muyart de Vouglans, in the sequel to his _Loix + Criminelles_, 1780. + +But, in default of the torture that would have made her sing, she was +made to speak by a still better process. On the 27th February, Guiol's +daughter, the lay-sister who acted as her jailer, came to her at an +early hour with a glass of wine. She was astonished: she was not at +all thirsty: she never drank wine, especially pure wine, of a morning. +The lay-sister, a rough, strong menial, such as they keep in convents +to manage crazy or refractory women, and to punish children, +overwhelmed the feeble sufferer with remonstrances that looked like +threats. Unwilling as she was, she drank. And she was forced to drink +it all, to the very dregs, which she found unpleasantly salt. + +What was this repulsive draught? We have already seen how clever these +old confessors of nuns were at remedies of various kinds. In this case +the wine alone would have done for so weakly a patient. It had been +quite enough to make her drunk, to draw from her at once some +stammering speeches, which the clerk might have moulded into a +downright falsehood. But a drug of some kind, perhaps some wizard's +simple, which would act for several days, was added to the wine, in +order to prolong its effects and leave her no way of disproving +anything laid to her charge. + +In her declaration of the 27th February, how sudden and entire a +change! It is nothing but a defence of Girard! Strange to say, the +commissioners make no remark on so abrupt a change. The strange, +shameful sight of a young girl drunk causes no astonishment, fails to +put them on their guard. She is made to own that all which had passed +between herself and Girard was merely the offspring of her own +diseased fancy; that all she had spoken of as real, at the bidding of +her brethren and the Carmelite, was nothing more than a dream. Not +content with whitening Girard, she must blacken her own friends, must +crush them, and put the halter round their necks. + +Especially wonderful is the clearness of her deposition, the neat way +in which it is worded. The hand of the skilful clerk peeps out +therefrom. It is very strange, however, that now they are in so fair a +way, they do not follow it up. From the 27th to the 6th of March there +is no further questioning. + +On the 28th, the poison having doubtless done its work, and plunged +her into a perfect stupor, or else a kind of Sabbatic frenzy, it was +impossible to bring her forth. After that, while her head was still +disordered, they could easily give her other potions of which she +would know and remember nothing. What happened during those six days +seems to have been so shocking, so sad for poor Cadiere, that neither +she nor her brother had the heart to speak of it twice. Nor would they +have spoken at all, had not the brethren themselves incurred a +prosecution aiming at their own lives. + +Having won his cause through Cadiere's falsehood, Girard dared to come +and see her in her prison, where she lay stupefied or in despair, +forsaken alike of earth and heaven, and if any clear thoughts were +left her, possessed with the dreadful consciousness of having by her +last deposition murdered her own near kin. Her own ruin was complete +already. But another trial, that of her brothers and the bold +Carmelite, would now begin. She may in her remorse have been tempted +to soften Girard, to keep him from proceeding against them, above all +to save herself from being put to the torture. Girard, at any rate, +took advantage of her utter weakness, and behaved like the determined +scoundrel he really was. + +Alas! her wandering spirit came but slowly back to her. It was on the +6th March that she had to face her accusers, to renew her former +admissions, to ruin her brethren beyond repair. She could not speak; +she was choking. The commissioners had the kindness to tell her that +the torture was there, at her side; to describe to her the wooden +horse, the points of iron, the wedges for jamming fast her bones. Her +courage failed her, so weak she was now of body. She submitted to be +set before her cruel master, who might laugh triumphant now that he +had debased not only her body, but yet more her conscience, by making +her the murderess of her own friends. + +No time was lost in profiting by her weakness. They prevailed +forthwith on the Parliament of Aix to let the Carmelite and the two +brothers be imprisoned, that they might undergo a separate trial for +their lives, as soon as Cadiere should have been condemned. + +On the 10th March, she was dragged from the Ursulines of Toulon to +Sainte-Claire of Ollioules. Girard, however, was not sure of her yet. +He got leave to have her conducted, like some dreaded highway robber, +between some soldiers of the mounted police. He demanded that she +should be carefully locked up at Sainte-Claire. The ladies were moved +to tears at the sight of a poor sufferer who could not drag herself +forward, approaching between those drawn swords. Everyone pitied her. +Two brave men, M. Aubin, a solicitor, and M. Claret, a notary, drew up +for her the deeds in which she withdrew her late confession, fearful +documents that record the threats of the commissioners and of the +Ursuline prioress, and above all, the fact of the drugged wine she had +been forced to drink. + +At the same time these daring men drew up for the Chancellor's court +at Paris a plea of error, as it is called, exposing the irregular and +blameable proceedings, the wilful breaches of the law, effected in the +coolest way, first by the bishop's officer and the King's Lieutenant, +secondly by the two commissioners. The Chancellor D'Aguesseau showed +himself very slack and feeble. He let these foul proceedings stand; +left the business in charge of the Parliament of Aix, sullied as it +already seemed to be by the disgrace with which two of its members had +just been covering themselves. + +So once more they laid hands on their victim, and had her dragged, in +charge as before of the mounted police, from Ollioules to Aix. In +those days people slept at a public house midway. Here the corporal +explained that, by virtue of his orders, he would sleep in the young +girl's room. They pretended to believe that an invalid unable to walk, +might flee away by jumping out of window. Truly, it was a most +villanous device, to commit such a one to the chaste keeping of the +heroes of the _dragonnades_.[115] Happily, her mother had come to see +her start, had followed her in spite of everything, and they did not +dare to beat her away with their butt-ends. She stayed in the room, +kept watch--neither of them, indeed, lying down--and shielded her +child from all harm. + + [115] Alluding to the cruelties dealt on the Huguenots by the + French dragoons, at the close of Louis the Fourteenth's + reign.--TRANS. + +Cadiere was forwarded to the Ursulines of Aix, who had the King's +command to take her in charge. But the prioress pretended that the +order had not yet come. We may see here how savage a woman who was +once impassioned will grow, until she has lost all her woman's nature. +She kept the other four hours at her street-door, as if she were a +public show. There was time to fetch a mob of Jesuits' followers, of +honest Church artizans, to hoot and hiss, while children might help by +throwing stones. For these four hours she was in the pillory. Some, +however, of the more dispassionate passers-by asked if the Ursulines +had gotten orders to let them kill the girl. We may guess what tender +jailers their sick prisoner would find in these good sisters! + +The ground was prepared with admirable effect. By a spirited concert +between Jesuit magistrates and plotting ladies, a system of deterring +had been set on foot. No pleader would ruin himself by defending a +girl thus heavily aspersed. No one would digest the poisonous things +stored up by her jailers, for him who should daily show his face in +their parlour to await an interview with Cadiere. The defence in that +case would devolve on M. Chaudon, syndic of the Aix bar. He did not +decline so hard a duty. And yet he was so uneasy as to desire a +settlement, which the Jesuits refused. Thereupon he showed what he +really was, a man of unswerving honesty, of amazing courage. He +exposed, with the learning of a lawyer, the monstrous character of the +whole proceeding. So doing, he would for ever embroil himself with +the Parliament no less than the Jesuits. He brought into sharp outline +the spiritual incest of the confessor, though he modestly refrained +from specifying how far he had carried his profligacy. He also +withheld himself from speaking of Girard's girls, the loose-lived +devotees, as a matter well-known, but to which no one would have liked +to bear witness. In short, he gave Girard the best case he could by +assailing him _as a wizard_. People laughed, made fun of the advocate. +He undertook to prove the existence of demons by a series of sacred +texts, beginning with the Gospels. This made them laugh the louder. + +The case had been cleverly disfigured by the turning of an honest +Carmelite into Cadiere's lover, and the weaver of a whole chain of +libels against Girard and the Jesuits. Thenceforth the crowd of +idlers, of giddy worldlings, scoffers and philosophers alike, made +merry with either side, being thoroughly impartial as between +Carmelite and Jesuit, and exceedingly rejoiced to see this battle of +monk with monk. Those who were presently to be called _Voltairites_, +were even better inclined towards the polished Jesuits, those men of +the world, than towards any of the old mendicant orders. + +So the matter became more and more tangled. Jokes kept raining down, +but raining mostly on the victim. They called it a love-intrigue. They +saw in it nothing but food for fun. There was not a scholar nor a +clerk who did not turn a ditty on Girard and his pupil, who did not +hash up anew the old provincial jokes about Madeline in the Gauffridi +affair, her six thousand imps, their dread of a flogging, and the +wonderful chastening-process whereby Cadiere's devils were put to +flight. + +On this latter point the friends of Girard had no difficulty in +proving him clean. He had acted by his right as director, in +accordance with the common wont. The rod is the symbol of fatherhood. +He had treated his penitent with a view to the healing of her soul. +They used to thrash demoniacs, to thrash the insane and sufferers in +other ways. This was the favourite mode of hunting out the enemy, +whether in the shape of devil or disease. With the people it was a +very common idea. One brave workman of Toulon, who had witnessed +Cadiere's sad plight, declared that a bull's sinew was the poor +sufferer's only cure. + +Thus strongly supported, Girard had only to act reasonably. He would +not take the trouble. His defence is charmingly flippant. He never +deigns even to agree with his own depositions. He gives the lie to his +own witnesses. He seems to be jesting, and says, with the coolness of +a great lord of the Regency, that if, as they charge him, he was ever +shut up with her, "it could only have happened nine times." + +"And why did the good father do so," would his friends say, "save to +watch, to consider, to search out the truth concerning her? 'Tis the +confessor's duty in all such cases. Read the life of the most holy +Catherine of Genoa. One evening her confessor hid himself in her room, +waiting to see the wonders she would work, and to catch her in the act +miraculous. But here, unhappily, the Devil, who never sleeps, had laid +a snare for this lamb of God, had belched forth this devouring monster +of a she-dragon, this mixture of maniac and demoniac, to swallow him +up, to overwhelm him in a cataract of slander." + +It was an old and excellent custom to smother monsters in the cradle. +Then why not later also? Girard's ladies charitably advised the +instant using against her of fire and sword. "Let her perish!" cried +the devotees. Many of the great ladies also wished to have her +punished, deeming it rather too bad that such a creature should have +dared to enter such a plea, to bring into court the man who had done +her but too great an honour. + +Some determined Jansenists there were in the Parliament, but these +were more inimical to the Jesuits than friendly to the girl. And they +might well be downcast and discouraged, seeing they had against them +at once the terrible Society of Jesus, the Court of Versailles, the +Cardinal Minister (Fleury), and, lastly, the drawing-rooms of Aix. +Should they be bolder than the head of the law, the Chancellor +D'Aguesseau, who had proved so very slack? The Attorney-General did +not waver at all: being charged with the indictment of Girard, he +avowed himself his friend, advised him how to meet the charges +against him. + +There was, indeed, but one question at issue, to ascertain by what +kind of reparation, of solemn atonement, of exemplary chastening, the +plaintiff thus changed into the accused might satisfy Girard and the +Company of Jesus. The Jesuits, with all their good-nature, affirmed +the need of an example, in the interests of religion, by way of some +slight warning both to the Jansenist Convulsionaries and the +scribbling philosophers who were beginning to swarm. + +There were two points by which Cadiere might be hooked, might receive +the stroke of the harpoon. + +Firstly, she had borne false witness. But, then, by no law could +slander be punished with death. To gain that end you must go a little +further, and say, "The old Roman text, _De famosis libellis_, +pronounces death on those who have uttered libels hurtful to the +Emperor or to _the religion_ of the Empire. The Jesuits represent that +religion. Therefore, a memorial against a Jesuit deserves the last +penalty." + +A still better handle, however, was their second. At the opening of +the trial the episcopal judge, the prudent Larmedieu, had asked her if +she had never _divined_ the secrets of many people, and she had +answered yes. Therefore they might charge her with the practice named +in the list of forms employed in trials for witchcraft, as _Divination +and imposture_. This alone in ecclesiastic law deserved the stake. +They might, indeed, without much effort, call her a _Witch_, after +the confession made by the Ollioules ladies, that at one same hour of +the night she used to be in several cells together. Their infatuation, +the surprising tenderness that suddenly came over them, had all the +air of an enchantment. + +What was there to prevent her being burnt? They were still burning +everywhere in the eighteenth century. In one reign only, that of +Philip V., sixteen hundred people were burnt in Spain: one Witch was +burnt as late as 1782. In Germany one was burnt in 1751; in +Switzerland one also in 1781. Rome was always burning her victims, on +the sly indeed, in the dark holes and cells of the Inquisition.[116] + + [116] This fact comes to us from an adviser to the Holy + Office, still living. + +"But France, at least, is surely more humane?" She is very +inconsistent. In 1718, a Wizard is burnt at Bordeaux.[117] In 1724 and +1726, the faggots were lighted in Greve for offences which passed as +schoolboy jokes at Versailles. The guardians of the Royal child, the +Duke and Fleury, who are so indulgent to the Court, are terrible to +the town. A donkey-driver and a noble, one M. des Chauffours, are +burnt alive. The advent of the Cardinal Minister could not be +celebrated more worthily than by a moral reformation, by making a +severe example of those who corrupted the people. Nothing more timely +than to pass some terrible and solemn sentence on this infernal girl, +who made so heinous an assault on the innocent Girard! + + [117] I am not speaking of executions done by the people of + their own accord. A hundred years ago, in a village of + Provence, an old woman on being refused alms by a landowner, + said in her fury, "You will be dead to-morrow." He was + smitten and died. The whole village, high and low, seized the + old woman, and set her on a bundle of vine-twigs. She was + burnt alive. The Parliament made a feint of inquiring, but + punished nobody.--[In 1751 an old couple of Tring, in + Hertfordshire, according to Wright, were tortured, kicked, + and beaten to death, on the plea of witchcraft, by a maddened + country mob.--TRANS.] + +Observe what was needed to wash that father clean. It was needful to +show that, even if he had done wrong and imitated Des Chauffours, he +had been the sport of some enchantment. The documents were but too +plain. By the wording of the Canon Law, and after these late decrees, +somebody ought to be burnt. Of the five magistrates on the bench, two +only would have burnt Girard. Three were against Cadiere. They came to +terms. The three who formed the majority would not insist on burning +her, would forego the long, dreadful scene at the stake, would content +themselves with a simple award of death. + +In the name of these five, it was settled, pending the final assent of +Parliament, "That Cadiere, having first been put to the torture in +both kinds, should afterwards be removed to Toulon, and suffer death +by hanging on the Place des Precheurs." + +This was a dreadful blow. An immense revulsion of feeling at once took +place. The worldlings, the jesters ceased to laugh: they shuddered. +Their love of trifling did not lead them to slur over a result so +horrible. That a girl should be seduced, ill-used, dishonoured, +treated as a mere toy, that she should die of grief, or of frenzy, +they had regarded as right and good; with all that they had no +concern. But when it was a case of punishment, when in fancy they saw +before them the woeful victim, with rope round her neck, by the +gallows where she was about to hang, their hearts rose in revolt. From +all sides went forth the cry, "Never, since the world began, was there +seen so villanous a reversal of things; the law of rape administered +the wrong way, the girl condemned for having been made a tool, the +victim hanged by her seducer!" + +In this town of Aix, made up of judges, priests, and the world of +fashion, a thing unforeseen occurred: a whole people suddenly rose, a +violent popular movement was astir. A crowd of persons of every class +marched in one close well-ordered body straight towards the Ursulines. +Cadiere and her mother were bidden to show themselves. "Make yourself +easy, mademoiselle," they shouted: "we stand by you: fear nothing!" + +The grand eighteenth century, justly called by Hegel the "reign of +mind," was still grander as the "reign of humanity." Ladies of +distinction, such as the granddaughter of Mde. de Sevigne, the +charming Madame de Simiane, took possession of the young girl and +sheltered her in their bosoms. + +A thing yet prettier and more touching was it, to see the Jansenist +ladies, elsewhile so sternly pure, so hard towards each other, in +their austerities so severe, now in this great conjuncture offer up +Law on the altar of Mercy, by flinging their arms round the poor +threatened child, purifying her with kisses on the forehead, baptizing +her anew in tears. + +If Provence be naturally wild, she is all the more wonderful in these +wild moments of generosity and real greatness. Something of this was +later seen in the earliest triumphs of Mirabeau, when he had a million +of men gathered round him at Marseilles. But here already was a great +revolutionary scene, a vast uprising against the stupid Government of +the day, and Fleury's pets the Jesuits: a unanimous uprising in behalf +of humanity, of compassion, in defence of a woman, a very child, thus +barbarously offered up. The Jesuits fancied that among their own +rabble, among their clients and their beggars, they might array a kind +of popular force, armed with handbells and staves to beat back the +party of Cadiere. This latter, however, included almost everyone. +Marseilles rose up as one man to bear in triumph the son of the +Advocate Chaudon. Toulon went so far for the sake of her poor +townswoman, as to think of burning the Jesuit college. + +The most touching of all these tokens in Cadiere's favour, reached +her from Ollioules. A simple boarder, Mdlle. Agnes, for all her +youthful shyness, followed the impulse of her own heart, threw herself +into the press of pamphlets, and published a defence of Cadiere. + +So widespread and deep a movement had its effect on the Parliament +itself. The foes of the Jesuits raised their heads, took courage to +defy the threats of those above, the influence of the Jesuits, and the +bolts that Fleury might hurl upon them from Versailles.[118] + + [118] There is a laughable tale which expresses the state of + Parliament with singular nicety. The Recorder was reading his + comments on the trial, on the share the Devil might have had + therein, when a loud noise was heard. A black man fell down + the chimney. In their fright they all ran away, save the + Recorder only, who, being entangled in his robe, could not + move. The man made some excuse. It was simply a chimneysweep + who had mistaken his chimney. + +The very friends of Girard, seeing their numbers fall off, their +phalanx grow thin, were eager for the sentence. It was pronounced on +the 11th October, 1731. + +In sight of the popular feeling, no one dared to follow up the savage +sentence of the bench, by getting Cadiere hanged. Twelve councillors +sacrificed their honour, by declaring Girard innocent. Of the twelve +others, some Jansenists condemned him to the flames as a wizard; and +three or four, with better reason, condemned him to death as a +scoundrel. Twelve being against twelve, the President Lebret had to +give the casting vote. He found for Girard. Acquitted of the capital +crime of witchcraft, the latter was then made over, as priest and +confessor, to the Toulon magistrate, his intimate friend Larmedieu, +for trial in the bishop's court. + +The great folk and the indifferent ones were satisfied. And so little +heed was given to this award, that even in these days it has been said +that "both were _acquitted_." The statement is not correct. Cadiere +was treated as a slanderer, was condemned to see her memorials and +other papers burnt by the hand of the executioner. + +There was still a dreadful something in the background. Cadiere being +so marked, so branded for the use of calumny, the Jesuits were sure to +keep pushing underhand their success with Cardinal Fleury, and to urge +her being punished in some secret, arbitrary way. Such was the notion +imbibed by the town of Aix. It felt that, instead of sending her home, +Parliament would rather _yield her up_. This caused so fearful a rage, +such angry menaces, against President Lebret, that he asked to have +the regiment of Flanders sent thither. + +Girard was fleeing away in a close carriage, when they found him out +and would have killed him, had he not escaped into the Jesuits' +Church. There the rascal betook himself to saying mass. After his +escape thence he returned to Dole, to reap honour and glory from the +Society. Here, in 1733, he died, _in the perfume of holiness_. The +courtier Lebret died in 1735. + +Cardinal Fleury did whatever the Jesuits pleased. At Aix, Toulon, +Marseilles, many were banished, or cast into prison. Toulon was +specially guilty, as having borne Girard's effigy to the doors of his +_Girardites_, and carried about the thrice holy standard of the +Jesuits. + +According to the terms of the award, Cadiere should have been free to +return home, to live again with her mother. But I venture to say that +she was never allowed to re-enter her native town, that flaming +theatre wherein so many voices had been raised in her behalf. + +If only to feel an interest in her was a crime deserving imprisonment, +we cannot doubt but that she herself was presently thrown into prison; +that the Jesuits easily obtained a special warrant from Versailles to +lock up the poor girl, to hush up, to bury with her an affair so +dismal for themselves. They would wait, of course, until the public +attention was drawn off to something else. Thereon the fatal clutch +would have caught her anew; she would have been buried out of sight in +some unknown convent, snuffed out in some dark _In pace_. + +She was but one-and-twenty at the time of the award, and she had +always hoped to die soon. May God have granted her that mercy![119] + + [119] Touching this matter, Voltaire is very flippant: he + scoffs at both parties, especially the Jansenists. The + historians of our own day, MM. Cabasse, Fabre, Mery, not + having read the _Trial_, believe themselves impartial, while + they are bearing down the victim. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + +A woman of genius, in a burst of noble tenderness, has figured to +herself the two spirits whose strife moulded the Middle Ages, as +coming at last to recognise each other, to draw together, to renew +their olden friendship. Looking closer at each other, they discern, +though somewhat late, the marks of a common parentage. How if they +were indeed brethren, and this long battle nought but a mistake? Their +hearts speak, and they are softened. The haughty outlaw and the gentle +persecutor have forgotten everything: they dart forward and throw +themselves into each other's arms.--(_Consuelo._) + +A charming, womanly idea. Others, too, have dreamed the same dream. +The sweet Montanelli turned it into a beautiful poem. Ay, who would +not welcome the delightful hope of seeing the battle here hushed down +and finished by an embrace so moving? + +What does the wise Merlin think of it? In the mirror of his lake, +whose depths are known to himself only, what did he behold? What said +he in the colossal epic produced by him in 1860? Why, that Satan will +not disarm, if disarm he ever do, until the Day of Judgment. Then, +side by side, at peace with each other, the two will fall asleep in a +common death. + + * * * * * + +It is not so hard, indeed, to bend them into a kind of compromise. The +weakening, relaxing effects of so long a battle allow of their +mingling in a certain way. In the last chapter we saw two shadows +agreeing to form an alliance in deceit; the Devil appearing as the +friend of Loyola, devotees and demoniacs marching abreast, Hell +touched to softness in the Sacred Heart. + +It is a quiet time now, and people hate each other less than formerly. +They hate few indeed but their own friends. I have seen Methodists +admiring Jesuits. Those lawyers and physicians whom the Church in the +Middle Ages called the children of Satan, I have seen making shrewd +covenant with the old conquered Spirit. + +But get we away from these pretences. They who gravely propose that +Satan should make peace and settle down, have they thought much about +the matter? + +There is no hindrance as regards ill-will. The dead are dead. The +millions of former victims sleep in peace, be they Albigenses, +Vaudois, or Protestants, Moors, Jews, or American Indians. The Witch, +universal martyr of the Middle Ages, has nought to say. Her ashes have +been scattered to the winds. + +Know you, then, what it is that raises a protest, that keeps these two +spirits steadily apart, preventing them from coming nearer? It is a +huge reality, born five hundred years ago; a gigantic creation +accursed by the Church, even that mighty fabric of science and modern +institutions, which she excommunicated stone by stone, but which with +every anathema has grown a storey higher. You cannot name one science +which has not been itself a rebellion. + +There is but one way of reconciling the two spirits, of joining into +one the two churches. Demolish the younger, that one which from its +first beginning was pronounced guilty and doomed as such. Let us, if +we can, destroy the natural sciences, the observatory, the museum, the +botanical garden, the schools of medicine, and all the modern +libraries. Let us burn our laws, our bodies of statutes, and return to +the Canon Law. + +All these novelties came of Satan. Each step forward has been a crime +of his doing. + +He was the wicked logician who, despising the clerical law, preserved +and renewed that of jurists and philosophers, grounded on an impious +faith, on the freedom of the will. + +He was that dangerous magician who, while men were discussing the sex +of angels and other questions of like sublimity, threw himself +fiercely on realities, and created chemistry, physics, mathematics--ay, +even mathematics. He sought to revive them, and that was rebellion. +People were burnt for saying that three made three. + +Medicine especially was a Satanic thing, a rebellion against disease, +the scourge so justly dealt by God. It was clearly sinful to check the +soul on its way towards heaven, to plunge it afresh into life! + +What atonement shall we make for all this? How are we to put down, to +overthrow, this pile of insurrections, whereof at this moment all +modern life is made up? Will Satan destroy his work, that he may tread +once more the way of angels? That work rests on three everlasting +rocks, Reason, Right, and Nature. + + * * * * * + +So great is the triumph of the new spirit, that he forgets his +battles, hardly at this moment deigns to remember that he has won. + +It were not amiss to remind him of his wretched beginnings, how +coarsely mean, how rude and painfully comic were the shapes he wore in +the season of persecution, when through a woman, even the unhappy +Witch, he made his first homely flights in science. Bolder than the +heretic, the half-Christian reasoner, the scholar who kept one foot +within the sacred circle, this woman eagerly escaped therefrom, and +under the open sunlight tried to make herself an altar of rough +moorland stones. + +She has perished, as she was certain to perish. By what means? Chiefly +by the progress of those very sciences which began with her, through +the physician, the naturalist, for whom she had once toiled. + +The Witch has perished for ever, but not the Fay. She will reappear in +the form that never dies. + +Busied in these latter days with the affairs of men, Woman has in +return given up her rightful part, that of the physician, the +comforter, the healing Fairy. Herein lies her proper priesthood--a +priesthood that does belong to her, whatever the Church may say. + +Her delicate organs, her fondness for the least detail, her tender +consciousness of life, all invite her to become Life's shrewd +interpreter in every science of observation. With her tenderly pitiful +heart, her power of divining goodness, she goes of her own accord to +the work of doctoring. There is but small difference between children +and sick people. For both of them we need the Woman. + +She will return into the paths of science, whither, as a smile of +nature, gentleness and humanity will enter by her side. + +The Anti-natural is growing dim, nor is the day far off when its +eclipse will bring back daylight to the earth. + + * * * * * + +The gods may vanish, but God is still there. Nay, but the less we see +of them, the more manifest is He. He is like a lighthouse eclipsed at +moments, but alway shining again more clearly than before. + +It is a remarkable thing to see Him discussed so fully, even in the +journals themselves. People begin to feel that all questions of +education, government, childhood, and womanhood, turn on that one +ruling and underlying question. As God is, so must the world be. + +From this we gather that the times are ripe. + + * * * * * + +So near, indeed, is that religious dayspring that I seemed momently to +see it breaking over the desert where I brought this book to an end. + +How full of light, how rough and beautiful looked this desert of mine! +I had made my nest on a rock in the mighty roadstead of Toulon, in a +lowly villa surrounded with aloe and cypress, with the prickly pear +and the wild rose. Before me was a spreading basin of sparkling sea; +behind me the bare-topt amphitheatre, where, at their ease, might sit +the Parliament of the world. + +This spot, so very African, bedazzles you in the daytime with +flashings as of steel. But of a winter morning, especially in +December, it seemed full of a divine mystery. I was wont to rise +exactly at six o'clock, when the signal for work was boomed from the +Arsenal gun. From six to seven I enjoyed a delicious time of it. The +quick--may I call it piercing?--twinkle of the stars made the moon +ashamed, and fought against the daybreak. Before its coming, and +during the struggle between two lights, the wonderful clearness of the +air would let things be seen and heard at incredible distances. Two +leagues away I could make everything out. The smallest detail about +the distant mountains, a tree, a cliff, a house, a bend in the ground, +was thrown out with the most delicate sharpness. New senses seemed to +be given me. I found myself another being, released from bondage, free +to soar away on my new wings. It was an hour of utter purity, all hard +and clear. I said to myself, "How is this? Am I still a man?" + +An unspeakable bluish hue, respected, left untouched by the rosy dawn, +hung round me like a sacred ether, a spirit that made all things +spiritual. + +One felt, however, a forward movement, through changes soft and slow. +The great marvel was drawing nearer, to shine forth and eclipse all +other things. It came on in its own calm way: you felt no wish to +hurry it. The coming transfiguration, the expected witcheries of the +light, took not a whit away from the deep enjoyment of being still +under the divinity of night, still, as it were, half-hidden, and slow +to emerge from so wonderful a spell.... Come forth, O Sun! We worship +thee while yet unseen, but will reap all of good we yet may from these +last moments of our dream! + +He is about to break forth. In hope let us await his welcome. + + +THE END. + + + + +LIST OF LEADING AUTHORITIES. + + +Graesse, _Bibliotheca Magiae_, Leipsic, 1843. + +_Magie Antique_--as edited by Soldan, A. Maury, &c. + +Calcagnini, _Miscell., Magia Amatoria Antiqua_, 1544. + +J. Grimm, _German Mythology_. + +_Acta Sanctorum._--Acta SS. Ordinis S. Benedicti. + +Michael Psellus, _Energie des Demons_, 1050. + +Caesar of Heisterbach, _Illustria Miracula_, 1220. + +_Registers of the Inquisition_, 1307-1326, in Limburch; and the +extracts given by Magi, Llorente, Lamothe-Langon, &c. + +_Directorium._ Eymerici, 1358. + +Llorente, _The Spanish Inquisition_. + +Lamothe-Langon, _Inquisition de France_. + +_Handbooks of the Monk-Inquisitors of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth +Centuries_: Nider's _Formicarius_; Sprenger's _Malleus_. + +C. Bernardus's _Lucerna_; Spina, Grillandus, &c. + +H. Corn. Agrippae _Opera_, Lyons. + +Paracelsi _Opera_. + +Wyer, _De Prestigiis Daemonum_, 1569. + +Bodin, _Demonomanie_, 1580. + +Remigius, _Demonolatria_, 1596. + +Del Rio, _Disquisitiones Magicae_, 1599. + +Boguet, _Discours des Sorciers_, Lyons, 1605. + +Leloyer, _Histoire des Spectres_, Paris, 1605. + +Lancre, _Inconstance_, 1612: _Incredulite_, 1622. + +Michaelis, _Histoire d'une Penitente, &c._, 1613. + +Tranquille, _Relation de Loudun_, 1634. + +_Histoire des Diables de Loudun_ (by Aubin), 1716. + +_Histoire de Madeleine Bavent_, de Louviers, 1652. + +_Examen de Louviers. Apologie de l'Examen_ (by Yvelin), 1643. + +_Proces du P. Girard et de la Cadiere_; Aix, 1833. + +_Pieces relatives a ce Proces_; 5 vols., Aix, 1833. + +_Factum, Chansons, relatifs, &c._ MSS. in the Toulon Library. + +Eugene Salverte, _Sciences Occultes_, with Introduction by Littre. + +A. Maury, _Les Fees_, 1843; _Magie_, 1860. + +Soldan, _Histoire des Proces de Sorcellerie_, 1843. + +Thos. Wright, _Narratives of Sorcery, &c._, 1851. + +L. Figuier, _Histoire du Merveilleux_, 4 vols. + +Ferdinand Denis, _Sciences Occultes: Monde Enchante_. + +_Histoire des Sciences au Moyen Age_, by Sprenger, Pouchet, Cuvier, &c. + + +Printed by Woodfall and Kinder, Angel Court, Skinner Street, London. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of La Sorciere: The Witch of the Middle +Ages, by Jules Michelet + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LA SORCIERE *** + +***** This file should be named 31420.txt or 31420.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/4/2/31420/ + +Produced by Irma Spehar and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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