The Anatomy of Melancholy

Subsection 3 Witches and magicians: how they cause melancholy

You have heard what the Devil can do by himself. Now you shall hear what he can accomplish through his instruments, who are often worse—if that is possible—than he is, and cause more mischief to satisfy their revenge and desire. “For the demon would not have committed many evils had witches not provoked him,” as Erastus thinks: much harm would never have been done if witches had not goaded him into it.

He would not have appeared in Samuel’s shape if the witch of Endor had left him alone, or displayed those serpents before Pharaoh had the magicians not urged him to it. “Nor would he inflict diseases on people or animals,” Erastus maintains, “if witches kept quiet.” People and cattle might escape if witches would leave him alone.

Many deny that witches exist at all, or believe that, if they do exist, they can do no harm. Of this opinion are Weyer, On the Deceptions of Demons, book 3, chapter 53; Augustin Lercheimer, a German writer; Biarmannus, Ewichius, Euwaldus and our countryman Scot. Like the man in Horace, they greet with laughter—

Dreams, magic terrors, marvels, witches, Ghosts abroad at night, and Thessalian wonders— They greet them all with laughter.

They laugh at all such stories; but most lawyers, theologians, physicians and philosophers take the opposite view: Augustine, Hemmingsen, Daneau, Chytraeus, Zanchi, Aretius, and so on; Delrio, Sprenger, Nider, book 5 of the Formicarius; Cujas, Bartolus, Legal Opinions, volume 1, opinion 6; Bodin, Demonomania, book 2, chapter 8; Godelmann, Damhouder, and others; Paracelsus, Erastus, Erbanius, Camerarius, and so on.

The people through whom the Devil operates may be reduced to two classes. First are those who command him, at least in appearance, such as conjurers and magicians, whose detestable and dreadful mysteries are contained in their book called Arbatel: “For demons appear when summoned and allow themselves to seem compelled by exorcisms and conjurations, so as to keep the wretched race of magicians in impiety.”

The second class consists of those who are commanded, such as witches, who act through an implicit or explicit pact, as the King has aptly defined them. There are many subdivisions and many different kinds of sorcerers, witches, enchanters, charmers, and so forth.

Some of them have been tolerated in the past, and magic was publicly taught in former times at Salamanca, Kraków and elsewhere, though later condemned by several universities. It is now generally opposed, although some still practise, defend and excuse it “as a secret art communicated only to great men endowed with a special gift from heaven”—I use Boissard’s words.

Some princes approve of them so thoroughly “that they dare undertake nothing in politics, religion or counsel without their judgment.” They consult them continually and indeed dare do nothing without their advice. Nero and Elagabalus, Maxentius and Julian the Apostate, were never so addicted to magic in ancient times as some of our modern princes and even popes are nowadays.

Eric, king of Sweden, had an enchanted cap. Through its power, and through some magical murmuring or whispered words, he could command spirits, disturb the air and make the wind blow whichever way he wished. Whenever there was a great wind or storm, the common people used to say that the king had his conjuring cap on. But such examples are endless.