by Sax Rohmer
According to Pope Gregory IX, Satan was adored by the witches under the name of Asmodeus:
“The devil appears to them in different shapes — sometimes as a goose or a duck, and at others in the figure of a pale, black-eyed youth, with a melancholy aspect, whose embrace fills their hearts with eternal hatred against the holy Church... this devil presides at their Sabbaths, when they all kiss him and dance around him. He then envelops them in total darkness, and they all, male and female, give themselves up to the grossest and most disgusting debauchery.”
The idea that Satan presided in the form of a man having the head of a goat is frequently met with. Between the horns a mysterious, lambent light shone incessantly. His body diffused a ruddy glow, and a sulphurous odour intoxicated the participants in the unholy rites. Attendant imps surrounded him and weird winged creatures flew about. In the foreground was the seething cauldron in which was distilling the hell-brew for the composition of poisonous potions.
De Lancre, however, speaks of the devil having five horns, from the centre one of which a flame proceeds, serving as a means of obtaining light for the fires and candles used during the proceedings. He also says that on each occasion the devil appointed a favourite witch Queen of the Sabbath, crowned her, and placed her on a throne at his right hand, whilst a second favourite occupied a seat on his left. A similar ceremony is mentioned in Michelet’s La Sorcière. Boguet says that “often Satan assists in the musical part of the programme, by playing a flute.”
The following English account of the Sabbath is taken from A Pleasant Treatise of Witches, etc., published at London in 1673:
“They (Witches) are likewise reported to have each of them a Spirit or Imp attending on and assigned to them, which never leave those to whom they are subject, but assist and render them all the service they command. These give the Witches notice to be ready at all Solemn appointments, and meetings, which are ordinarily on Tuesday or Wednesday night, and then they strive to separate themselves from the company of all other Creatures, not to be seen by any; and night being come, they strip themselves naked, and anoint themselves with their Oyntments. Then are they carryed out of the house, either by the Window, Door, or Chimney, mounted on their Imps in form of a Goat, Sheep or a Dragon, till they arrive at their meeting place, whither all the other Witches and Wizards, each one upon his Imps, are also brought. Thus brought to the designed place, which is sometimes many hundred miles from their dwellings, they find a great number of others arrived there by the same means; who, before Lucifer takes his place in his Throne as King, do make their accustomed homage, Adoring and Proclaiming him their Lord, and rendering him all Honour.
“This solemnity being finished, they sit at table where no delicate meats are wanting to gratifie their Appetites, all dainties being thither brought in the twinkling of an eye, by those spirits that attend the Assembly. This done at the sound of many pleasant Instruments (for we must expect no Grace in the company of Devils), the table is taken away, and the pleasant consort invites them to a Ball; but the dance is strange, and wonderful, as well as diabolical, for twining themselves back to back, they take one another by the arms and raise each other from the ground, then shake their heads to and fro like Anticks, and turn themselves as if they were mad. Then at last, after this Banquet, Musick and Ball, the lights are put out, and their sleeping Venus awakes.
“The incubus’s (‘Incubi) in the shape of proper men,” continues the Treatise, entertain the witches, “and the succubus’s (Succubi) serve... for the Wizards.
“At last, before Aurora brings back the day, each one mounts on his spirit, and so returns to his respective dwelling place, with that lightness and quickness, that in little space they find themselves to be carryed many hundred miles; but are charged by their spirit in the way, not to call in any wise on the name of God, or to bless themselves with the sign of the Cross, upon pain of falling, with peril of their lives, and being grievously punished by their Demon.
“Sometimes at their solemn assemblies, the Devil commands, that each tell what wickednes he hath committed, and according to the heinousness and detestableness of it, he is honoured and respected with a general applause. Those on the contrary, that have done no evil, are beaten and punished; at last when the assembly is ready to break up, and the Devil to dispatch them, he publisheth this law with a loud voice, Revenge yourselves or also you shall dye, then each one kissing the... Devil returns upon their aiery Vehicles to their habitations.”
Many of the available particulars relating to the Sabbath are quite unprintable, and the folding plate of the Sabbath in Pierre De Lancre’s Tableau de Vlncontance des Mauvais Anges, etc., 1613 — is also too realistic for reproduction!
Reginald Scott, in his Discoverie of Witchcraft, gives the following recipes for preparing the ointment with which the witches anointed themselves in order to be transported to the Sabbath. (For an account of this in fiction, see Algernon Blackwood’s story Ancient Sorceries.)
I. “The fat of yoong children, and seeth it with water in a brasen vessell, reserving the thickest of that which remaineth boiled in the bottome, which they laye up and keep, untill occasion serveth to use it. They put hereunto Eleoselinum, Aconitum, Frondes populeas, and Soote.”
II. “Sium, acarum vulgare, pentaphyllon, the blood of a flitter mouse, solanum somniferum and oleum. They stampe all these together, and then they rubbe all parts of their bodies exceedinglie, till they looked, and be verie hot, so as the pores may be opened, and their flesh soluble and loose. They joine herewithall either fat, or oil in stead thereof, that the force of the ointment maie the rather pearse inwardly, and so be more effectuait. By this means in a moonlight night they seeme to be carried in the aire.”
One pictures the scene only with the utmost difficulty — those shapes gliding down from the night, witches young, witches old, hideous and comely, their bodies aglisten with the unholy anointing, demon lovers and unsexed mistresses hastening to the tryst. The woods are peopled with grey things, the branches burdened with winged creatures arisen from the pit; the darkness is a curtain broidered with luminous eyes — cat-eyes, ghoul-eyes — eyes aflame with the fire of hell. Awful chants rise and fall, gleaming shapes leap out into the light cast by the cauldron, and are lost again in the gloom. Unholiness sighs and pants and laughs in lost abandon about the awful, majestic figure of the fallen Angel.
This, then, was the Black Sabbath, the nightmare that haunted the Middle Ages; this was the annual gathering of those against whom Charlemagne directed his edicts; but if it was in the time of Charlemagne that the crime of sorcery began to assume importance, it was not until 1484, when Pope Innocent VIII issued his bull Summis desiderantes affectibus, that the real reign of terror began. From the issue of this bull up to the year 1782 — when a girl witch was put to death at Glarus in Switzerland — it is computed that 300,000 women, accused of witchcraft, perished at the hands of the law!
II. SORCERY IN FRANCE
Whilst England was for long preserved from the horrors of the witch-trial, France very early became witch-ridden. At the commencement of the fifth century, the Franks, under Pharamond, crossed the Rhine and settled in Gaul. With them they brought their superstitions, which admitted of the existence of sorcerers, and of the almost universal power of demons.
In the Salic laws, which Siegbert attributes to Pharamond, and which he supposes to have been promulgated in A.D. 424, we find the following dispositions:
“Whosoever shall call another a sorcerer, or accuse him of having carried the cauldron at the Sabbath, where sorcerers assemble, shall, if unable to bring proof, be condemned to a fine of two thousand five hundred deniers, or, sixty-two sous and a half.
“If any one shall call a free woman a sorceress or prostitute, without being able to support the accusation by proof, he shall be condemned to a fine of seven thousand five hundred deniers, or, one hundred and eighty-seven sous and a half.
“If a sorceress has devoured (?) a man, and she is convicted sh
e shall be condemned to pay eight thousand deniers, or, two hundred sous.”
“Truly, the laws were not made in order to dissipate superstition,” says Jules Garinet; and in those dark days any unusual phenomena were regarded either as miracles or as the work of the devil. Under the reign of Merovée, Attila, King of the Huns, appeared in France like a torrent, ravaging and laying waste the country through which he passed. The people of Paris gave themselves up to despair when they learned of the approach of the barbarian, in whose train was an army of five hundred thousand men; but St. Geneviève endeavoured to calm the terror-stricken citizens, and predicted in the name of Heaven that Attila would not besiege Paris. Many believed in her prophetic utterance, and were reassured; but others accused her of being in league with the enemy, or with the devil, who had revealed the future to her.
Childeric succeeded to Merovée, but the dissoluteness of his habits and his passion for seducing all women caused him to be driven from the throne. He took refuge in Thuringe, where he won the heart of the Queen Bazine, who left her husband in order to wed the King of France.
Some historians describe this princess as a great sorceress. If we are to believe Aimoin and Trédégaire, on the evening of the marriage Bazine requested her new husband, Childeric, to remain the whole night in absolute continence, to get up from bed, to go to the gateway of his palace, and to return and tell her what he had seen. Childeric regarded this advice with respect, since it appeared full of mystery, and, in accordance with his wife’s request, went out. Hardly had he reached the gateway ere he saw enormous animals walking about the courtyard — leopards, unicorns, and lions. Astonished at this spectacle, he returned as quickly as possible to his Queen, and related to her what he had seen. Then, addressing him in a mysterious voice, as of an Oracle, she told him not to be afraid, but to go a second time, and even a third. Childeric obeyed. On the second visit to the courtyard he saw wolves and bears; and upon the third occasion dogs and other small animals fighting and tearing each other to pieces.
It was but natural that the King should ask of Bazine the explanation of these extraordinary visions.
“You shall know,’ said the Queen; “but you must pass the rest of the night quietly, and, at the break of day, you shall learn that which you wish to learn.”
Childeric promised to do as the Queen had requested, and kept his promise. Bazine also was as good as her word, and she now revealed to the King the meaning of the enigma:
“Have no fear, and listen attentively to what I am about to say. The wonderful things you have seen are but a vision of the future; they represent the morals and the character of all our posterity. The lions and the unicorns denote the son who will be born of us (Clovis I); the wolves and the bears are his children, vigorous princes seeking their prey; whilst the dogs, animals blindly given up to their passions, are symbolic of the last Kings of your race. The little animals that you saw amongst the dogs are the people, impatient of servitude, risen against their Kings, given over to the passions of the great, unfortunate victims first of the one and then of the other.”
Bazine became mother of Clovis I, the first Christian King of France, and, according to some, “the first who was really (véritablement) King.”
Pierre-le-Vénérable, who, born in 1092, became Abbé de Cluni, and who died beatified about the year 1156, wrote two books of miracles with which he was acquainted, in which he records some remarkable events. The facts which he relates took place in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, under the Kings Robert, Henri I, Philippe I, Louis VI, and Louis VII. As several of his tracts deal with sorcery, I may give a few examples:
“The devil took up a position at the monastery of Cluni, and, in the guise of an abbé, advised an Italian monk to flee. Two other devils, disguised as monks, accompanied the false abbé; but the Italian would consent to none of their wishes. The dinner-hour having arrived, the monk repaired to the refectory with the three false ecclesiastics. The repast eaten, the prior, according to custom, gave the signal that dinner was over. The demon who had passed himself off as an abbé no sooner heard the noise, than, impelled by a superior force, he ran from the brother to whom he had been speaking, and, springing, precipitated himself violently into the latrines... in view of the brother of whom we have just spoken. Thus did the spirit of darkness escape from this monastery by a route worthy of him.”
Near Lisieux, in Poitou, a priest, who had lived an evil life, in order to hide his iniquity received the sacrament several times whilst passing his days in performing acts of lewdness. But the end came. His hypocrisy became known, and he was remonstrated with by the monks of Bonneval. The prior visited him, and stayed the night in his cell. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, the priest cried out loudly for help:
“Two enormous lions,” he screamed, “are throwing themselves upon me; their jaws are opened to devour me.”
In saying these words his whole body trembled. The prior endeavoured to reassure him, and commenced to pray.
“Good, good,” said the curé; “the lions have fled.” He now spoke more quietly.
An hour afterwards, however, the priest once more was thrown into convulsions.
“I see fire descending from heaven which is about to burn me like straw,” he cried. “I pray you offer your supplications to God for me”; and the prior repeated his prayers.
“It is well,” said the curé, “the fire is extinguished; but do not leave me.”
The prior seated himself close to the bed of the other, and several hours passed in quietness. Suddenly the unfortunate priest exclaimed:
“I am damned for eternity. The devil is throwing me into a boiling cauldron; I see an ocean of ice in which I shall freeze. Pray to God no more for me. It is useless!”
Thereupon terror seized all who inhabited the monastery, which was deserted immediately upon the death of this unhappy man.
III. FRENCH SORCERERS AND SORCERESSES
It was in the tenth or eleventh century that the wondrous Mélusine, appeared. I have already referred to Mélusine whom the old French romance by John of Arras has immortalized. According to certain theologians, she was a sorceress, or a female demon of the sea. (We are reminded of “Jullanar of the Sea,” in The Thousand and One Nights.) Others have it that she was descended from a King of Albania and a fairy. Paracelsus classes her as a nymph, but most writers regard her as a powerful Elemental, who wedded a seigneur of the House of Lusignan, and two great Houses of Poitou and Dauphiny have carried on their arms Mélusine represented as a siren. M. de Saint-Albin has given, in his Contes Noirs (tome I, p. 63) the history of Mélusine, according to the popular opinion in certain cantons of Poitou. He makes of her a sylphid or a fairy. After having recorded her adventures, he concludes:
“Since she disappeared, every time that death menaces one of her descendants, Mélusine shows herself in mourning on the Great Tower of the Château of Lusignan, which she built. Her apparition also announces the death of our Kings...
Some historians say that Mélusine was a woman as adroit as she was beautiful, who claimed to possess the power of transformation. She would have been readily believed in an era when the changing of men and women into wolves and other animals was not regarded as phenomenal.
No notice of French sorcery, however brief, would be complete without a reference to the French sorcerer par excellence, Gilles de Rais, Baron de Laval and a Marshal of France — the traditional “Blue Beard” — who was burnt alive at Nantes in October 1440, for the murder of some two hundred children, whose throats were cut by this monster in order to ‘obtain their blood for use in magical rites and for the evocation of the devil.
It was proven that in a magnificent chapel which he had erected, and which was served by priests whom he had seduced to his abominable opinions, the most ghastly scenes of butchery took place, whilst these wretched Churchmen sang hymns and offered up prayers for the repose of the souls of the innocent children immolated before their eyes.
A French author stat
es that, although Laval was condemned, his accomplices were saved by the Inquisition lest discredit might fall upon the clergy in general. I have been unable to confirm this; but let us pass on.
In the year 1472, the ferocious and pious Louis XI caused his brother Charles, Duc de Guyenne, to be imprisoned. The circumstances of this crime are curious, and come strictly within the province of sorcery. The Duc de Guyenne, a man of naturally weak character, at the instigation of d’Ode Daidie, Seigneur de Lescun, joined the league formed against Louis XI. At the Court of the Duc was an abbé of Saint-Jean d’Angely, a man, we are told, capable of committing the worst of crimes, named Faure de Versois, who readily entered into the schemes of the French Nero. The monk presented to the Duc a poisoned fish; and the Comtesse de Monsoireau, the mistress of this Prince, accepted half, but died almost immediately after eating it.
It appears that nobody suspected Faure de Versois at the moment, for he continued in favour with the Duc — and was even named executor of the will of the Comtesse de Monsoireau. The poisoner carried on a correspondence with the King, to whom he wrote saying that de Guyenne was approaching his end, which was no more than true.
But now the villainous abbé of Saint-Jean was suddenly arrested, and taken by sea to Brittany. The Duc de Bretagne conducted him to the Boufflay de Nantes, and the trial of the poisoner was commenced by the Bishop of Angers. Louis XI obtaining possession of the fragments of fish, which alone constituted the evidence of the poisoning, he burnt them.
The abbé, however, put to the question at Nantes, made a full confession, and a new accusation followed the judgment. The gaoler came, trembling, to the judges and told them that the abbé was a sorcerer, and that the prison must be emptied, as it had become impossible to live there any longer, because of the fearful figures that were seen, and the howlings and lamentations that were heard.
