Pliny’s Natural History
We should have to search long before finding a better starting-point for the consideration of the union of magic with the science of the Roman Empire and of the way in which that union influenced the Middle Ages than Pliny’s Natural History. Its encyclopedic character affords a bird’s-eye view of our entire subject. Its varied contents suggest practically all the themes of our discussion in succeeding chapters. Chronologically considered, it is satisfactory as an introduction, since it appeared in the early part of the Empire (77 a. d.).
I. The character of the work
Pliny’s treatise is far more than what we understand by a “Natural History.” It is an attempt to cover the whole field of science; rerum natura is its subject.[53] This, as Pliny says, is a task which no single Greek or Roman has before attempted. He tells us that he treats of some 20,000 topics gleaned from the perusal of about 2,000 volumes, with the addition of many facts not contained in previous works and only recently brought to light.[54] At first thought, then, the Natural History, vast in its scope and constituting a summary of the views of previous authorities, would seem the best single example of the science of the classical world. The fact that it touches upon many of the varieties and illustrates most of the characteristics of magic makes it the more fitting a starting-point for us. Indeed, Pliny makes frequent mention of the Magi, and in the opening chapters of his thirtieth book gives the most important extant discussion of magic by an ancient writer.
It is true, however, that Pliny does not seem to have been a man of much scientific training and experience. He said himself that his days were taken up with the performance of public duties, and that consequently his scientific labors were largely carried on in the evening hours.[55] Probably we should regard his book as little more than a compilation, and perhaps no very judicious compilation at that, in view of his maxim that there is no book so bad but that some good may be got from it.[56] Perhaps we may not unjustly picture him to ourselves as collecting his material in a rather haphazard fashion; as not always aware of the latest theories or discoveries; as occasionally citing a fantastic writer instead of a more sober one; or as quoting incorrectly statements which his limited scientific knowledge prevented him from comprehending-. Perhaps, too, he derived some of his data directly from popular report and superstition. Certainly to us to-day his work seems a disorderly and indiscriminate conglomeration of fact and legend on all sorts of subjects — disorderly, in that its author does not seem to have made any effort to sift his material, to compare and arrange his facts, even in his own mind; indiscriminate, in that Pliny seems to lack any standard of judgment between the true and the false, and to deem almost nothing too improbable, silly or indelicate to be mentioned. Ought we to consider such a work as truly representative of the beliefs of preceding centuries, or as an example of the best educated thought and science of its author’s own age? This is a question which we must consider.
Yet as we read Pliny’s pages we feel that he possessed elements of greatness. If he was equipped with little scientific training or experience, we should remember that little training or experience was necessary to deal with the science of those days. At least he sacrificed his life in an effort to investigate natural phenomena. Moreover, his faults were probably to a great extent common to his age. The tendency to regard anything written as of at least some value did not begin with him. Material had often before been collected in a haphazard manner. Lewes, in his book on the science of Aristotle, has described with truth even the famous History of Animals as unclassified in arrangement and careless in the selection of material.[57] Many of Pliny’s marvelous assertions and absurd remedies purport to be from the works of men of note, although possibly he was sometimes deceived by spurious writings. He frequently gives us to understand that he himself intends to maintain a cautious and critical frame of mind, and he makes great pretensions to immunity from that credulousness of human nature over which he will occasionally smile or philosophize.[58] When we take up Aristotle’s History of Animals and Seneca’s Natural Questions, it will become evident that Pliny’s “science” was not very different in quality from that of the Greeks or from that of his own age. If he seldom gives us a clear-cut or complete exposition of a subject, it is probably because there was seldom one to be found. If he seems in a chronic statp of mental confusion and incoherency, it is because his task staggered him. His work was by its nature so far impersonal that we can attribute its defects only in part to his personality.
On the whole, then, we probably shall not be greatly misled if we regard the Historia Naturalis as a sort of epitome of what men had believed about nature in the past or did believe in Pliny’s own day. The author may not have portrayed past and present thought at their best but he portrayed them, and that in detail. “The greatest gull of antiquity”[59] was the Boswell of ancient science.
Pliny makes almost as good a representative of mediaeval science as of that of the Roman world, and thus well illustrates the influence which the one had upon the other. Indeed not only is the Natural History just the sort of work that delighted the Middle Ages, but Pliny seems to have exerted a considerable direct influence on writers down through the sixteenth century. Isidore of Seville practically copied his unfavorable comments on the magi and his discussion of the powers of stones.[60] Bede seems to have owed a good deal to him. Alcuin openly praised that “most devoted investigator of nature.”[61] Roger Bacon quoted him; the Natural History was a mine whence Agrippa dug much of the material for his Occult Philosophy and to which Porta seems equally indebted in his Natural Magic.
II. Pliny’s discussion of magic
Before illustrating Pliny’s combination of magical lore with true and sane statements about nature, we should consider his discussion of what he was pleased to call magic; for just as he prided himself upon his freedom from excessive credulity in the abstract, so in regard to magic in particular he seems to have flattered himself that his position was quite different from what it actually was.
Pliny did have, however, a fairly clear idea of the extensive scope of magic as well as of its great age and currency. Not only did he declare that of all known arts it had exerted the greatest influence in every land and in almost every age, but “no one,” he said, “should wonder that its authority has been very great, since it alone has embraced and combined into one the three other subjects which appeal most powerfully to man’s mind.”[62] For magic had invaded the domain of religion and had also made astrology a part of itself,[63] while “no one doubts that it originally sprang from medicine and crept in under the show of promoting health as a loftier and more holy medicine.”[64] Indeed, he thinks that the development of magic and of medicine have been parallel[65] and that the latter is now in imminent danger of being overwhelmed by the follies of magic which have made men doubt whether plants possess any medicinal properties at all.[66] Pliny, moreover, sees the connection of magic with the lore of the magi of Persia. Indeed, “ magus” is his only word for a magician. But this does not lead him to admit what some persons — the philosopher Eudoxus, for instance — have asserted, that magic is the most splendid and useful branch of philosophy.[67] For Pliny, magic is always something reprehensible.
The magi are either fools or imposters. They are a genus vanissimum.[68] They believe such absurdities as that herbs can dry up swamps and rivers, open all barriers, turn hostile battle-lines in flight, and insure their possessor, wherever he may be, abundant provision for every, need.[69] They make statements which Pliny thinks must have been dictated by a feeling of contempt and derision for the human race. They affirm that gems carved with the names of sun and moon and attached to the neck by hairs of the cynocephalus and feathers of the swallow will neutralize the effect of potions, win audience with kings, and, with the aid of some additional ceremony, ward off hail and locusts.[70] They have the impudence to assert that the stone “heliotropium,” combined with the plant of the same name and with due incantations, renders its bearer invisible.[71] “Vanitas” is Pliny’s stock-word for their statements. Nero proved how hollow are their pretenses by the fact that, although he was most eagerly devoted to the pursuit of magic arts and had every opportunity to acquire skill in them, he was unable to effect any marvels through their agency and abandoned the study of them.[72]
Moreover, magi or magicians deal with the inhuman, the obscene and the abominable. Osthanes, and even the philosopher Democritus, are led by their devotion to magic into propounding such remedies as drinking human blood or utilizing in magic compounds or ceremonies portions of the corpses of men violently slain.[73] Magic is a malicious and criminal art. Its devotees attempt the transfer of disease from one person to another or the exercise of baleful sorcery.[74] “It cannot be sufficiently estimated how great a debt is due the Romans who did away with those monstrous rites in which to slay a man was most pious; nay more, to eat men most wholesome.”[75] In fine, we may rest persuaded that magic is “execrable, ineffectual and inane.” Yet it possesses some shadow of truth, but is of avail through “veneficas artes. . non magicas,”[76] whatever that distinction may be.
III. Illustrations of Pliny’s fundamental belief in magic
Pliny, we have seen, made a bold pretense of utter disbelief in magic, and also censured the art on grounds of decency, morality and humanity. Yet despite this wholesale condemnation, in some places in his work it is difficult to tell where his quotations from magicians cease and where statements which he accepts recommence. Sometimes he explicitly quoted theories or facts from the writings of the “magi” without censure and without any expression of disbelief. If it is contended that he none the less regarded them as false and worthless, we may fairly ask, why then did he give them such a prominent place in his encyclopedia? Surely we must conclude either that he really had a liking for them himself and more than half believed them, or that previous works on nature were so full of such material and his own age so interested in such data that he could not but include much of this lore. Probably both alternatives are true. Finally, many things which Pliny states without any reference to the magi seem as false and absurd as the far-fetched assertions which he attributes to them and for which he shows so much scorn. Indeed, it hardly seems paradoxical to say that he hated the magi but liked their doctrines.
What clearer example of magic could one ask than the conclusion that the odor of the burning horn of a stag has the power of dispelling serpents, because enmity exists between stags and snakes, and the former track the latter to their holes and extract the snakes thence, despite all resistance, by the power of their breath? Or that on this same account the sovereign remedy for snake-bite comes “ex coagulo hinnulei matris in utero occisi?” Or that, since the stag is not subject to fever, the eating of its flesh will prevent that disease, especially if the animal has died of a single wound? What more magical than to fancy that the longest tooth of a fish could have any efficacy in the cure of fever? Or that excluding the person who had tied it on from the sight of the patient for five days would complete a perfect charm? Or that wearing as an amulet the carcass of a frog, minus the claws and wrapped in a piece of russet-colored cloth, would be of any aid against disease?[77] Yet the Natural History is full of such things.
To plants, for example, Pliny assigns powers no less marvelous than those which he has attributed to animals. There is one plant which, held in the hand, has a beneficial effect upon the groin;[78] another overcomes the asp with torpor, and hence, beaten up with oil, is a remedy for the sting of that snake.[79] Fern, he says, if mowed down with the edge of a reed or uprooted by a ploughshare on which a reed has been placed, will not spring up again.[80] Moreover, in his twenty-fourth book, immediately after having announced that he has sufficiently discussed for the present the marvel our properties attributed to herbs by the magi,[81] he proceeds to mention the following remedies. One ds a quick cure for headache, and consists in gathering a plant growing on the head of a statue and attaching it to your neck with a red string. Another is a cure for tertian fever, and consists in plucking a certain herb before sunrise on the banks of a stream and in fastening it to the patient’s left arm without his knowledge. A third recipe instructs us that plants which have taken root in a sieve that has been thrown into a hedge-row “decerptae adalligataeque gravidis partus adcelerant.” A fourth would have herbs growing on dunghills a cure for quinzy, and a fifth assures us that sprains may be speedily cured by the application of a plant “iuxta quam canes urinam fundunt,” tom up by the roots and not allowed to touch iron.[82]
Coming to minerals we find Pliny rather more reticent in regard to strange qualities. His account of gems is written mainly from the jeweler’s point of view. When marvelous powers are mentioned, the magi are usually made responsible, and such powers are frequently rejected as absurd. Pliny, however, grants some magic properties in certain stones. Molochitis, by some medicinal power which it possesses, guards infants against dangers;[83] and eumecas, placed beneath the head at night, causes oracular visions.[84] To water Pliny allows powers which we must regard as magical, for according to him certain rivers pass under the sea because of their hatred of it.[85]
In man, moreover, as well as in other creatures upon earth, there is magic power. Pliny mentions men whose eyes are able to exert strong fascination,[86] others who fill serpents with terror and can cure snake-bite by merely touching the wound, and others who by their presence addle eggs in the vicinity.[87] Pliny takes up the power of words and incantations in connection with man. Whether they have potency beyond what we expect ordinary speech to possess is a great and unanswered question. Our ancestors, Pliny says, always believed so, and in every-day life we often unconsciously accept such a view ourselves. If, for instance, we believe that the Vestal virgins can, by an imprecation, stop runaway slaves who are still within the city limits, we must accept the whole theory of the power of words. But, taken as individuals, the wisest men lack faith in the doctrine.[88] Pliny, then, believed in the possession of magic properties by well-nigh all varieties of terrestrial substances, nay even by colors and numbers, and in strange relations of occult sympathy, love and hatred between different things in the realm of nature. His acceptance of ceremony as efficacious has also been brought out to some extent. We have seen him attributing importance to death from a single wound, to suspension by a single hair, to fastening an amulet without the patient’s knowledge, or to the absence for a time from the patient’s sight of the person who attached it. We will consider one or two more such instances among the many which exist in his pages.
He who gathers the iris should be in a state of chastity. Three months beforehand let him soak the ground around the plant with hydromel — as a sort of atonement to appease the earth. When he comes to pluck it, he should first trace three circles about it with the point of a sword, and, the moment he plucks it, raise it aloft towards the heavens.[89] In another passage, in connection with the application of a mixture to an inflammatory tumor, Pliny says that persons of experience regard it as very important that the poultice be applied by a naked virgin and that both she and the patient be fasting. Touching the sufferer with the back of her hand, she is to say, “Apollo forbids a disease to increase which a naked virgin restrains.” Then, withdrawing her hand, she is to repeat the same words thrice and to join with the patient in spitting on the ground each time.[90]
Pliny occasionally prefaces his marvelous remedies by some such expression as “it is said.” This circumstance is scarcely to be taken as a sign of mental reservation, however, as the following absurd statement, which he makes upon his own authority and declares is easily tested by experiment, will indicate. “If a person repents of a blow given to another, either by hand or with a missile, let him spit at once into the palm of the hand which inflicted the blow, and all resentment in the person struck will instantly vanish.” This is often proved, according to Pliny, in the case of beasts of burden, which can be induced to increase their speed by this method after the use of the whip has failed.[91]
One can, perhaps, make some distinction between the strange influences which Pliny credited and the statements of the magi which he rejected. I believe that he did not go to the length of affirming that plants or parts of animals could cause panics, procure provisions, win you royal favor, gain for you vengeance on your enemies, or make you invisible. But he was inconsistent enough. After asserting that a single fish but a few inches long could immediately arrest the progress of the largest vessel by attaching itself to the keel of the ship,[92] was it for him to declare false the notion that a stone can calm winds or ward off hail and swarms of locusts? He characterized as “idle talk” the assertion of the magi that the stone “gorgonia” counteracted fascination,[93] but he had already written: “Id quoque convenit, quo nihil equidem libentius crediderim, tactis omnino menstruo postibus inritas fieri magorum artes, generis vanissimi, ut aestimare licet.”[94] Apparently, then, the only charge which he could bring against magicians without reflecting upon himself was that of malicious and criminal practices. His beliefs were much like theirs.
Indeed, the varieties of magic in the Natural History have not yet been exhausted. For one thing, we must consider Pliny’s position in regard to magic properties of the stars as well as of terrestrial matter. He believed in astrology, at least to some extent, although one might not think it if one read only the passage in which he speaks of the debt of gratitude mankind owe to the great geniuses who have freed them from superstitious fear of eclipses.[95] He could, nevertheless, in naming some prominent personage in each of the primary arts and sciences, mention Berosus, to whom a public statue has been erected by the Athenians in honor of his skill in prognostication, in connection with astrology.[96]
Pliny himself holds that the universe is a divinity, “holy eternal, vast, all in all — nay, in truth is itself all,” a proposition rather favorable to astrological theory.[97] The sun is the mind and soul of the whole world and the chief governor of nature.[98] The planets affect each other. A cold star renders another approaching it pale; a hot star causes its neighbor to redden; a windy planet gives those near it a lowering aspect.[99] Saturn is cold and rigid; Mars a flaming fire; Jupiter, located between them, is temperate and salubrious.[100] When the planets reach a certain point in their orbits, they are deflected from their regular course by the rays of the sun.[101]
Besides effects upon each other the planets exert especial influence upon the earth. “Potentia autem ad terram magnopere eorum pertinens.”[102] They govern, each according to its nature, the weather on our globe.[103] The planets also have great influence upon diseases and on animal and plant life in general, although Pliny does not dwell upon this point at any length.[104] The moon, a feminine and nocturnal star, stirs up humors on earth and is powerful in producing putrefaction and corruption in matter.[105] By the nature of Venus every thing on earth is generated.[106]
To what extent the planets rule man’s life Pliny does not specify — an instance of prudent reticence on his part, if he really consciously avoided the question. He disclaims any belief in the vulgar notion that a star, varying in brightness according to our wealth, is assigned to each of us, and that the eternal stars rise and fade at the birth or death of insignificant mortals. “Non tanta caelo societas nobiscum est ut nostro fato mortalis sit ibi quoque siderum fulgor.”[107] But thus to deny that the stars are ruled by man’s destiny or doings is far from refusing to believe that men’s lives are ordered by the stars. Pliny, as we have seen, holds that Venus has a considerable influence over the process of birth in all animals. Also he certainly accepts the portentous character of various particular celestial phenomena. “From the stars celestial fire is vomited forth bearing omens of the future.”[108] He gives instances from Roman history of comets which signalled disaster, expounds the theory that their significance is to be determined from the direction in which they move and the heavenly body whose powers they receive, and states that the particular phase of life to which they apply may be deduced from the shape which they assume or from their position in relation to the signs of the zodiac.[109]
Pliny’s belief in portents seems to have been general and not limited to celestial phenomena. In a passage on earthquakes he declares, “Never has the city of Rome shaken but that this was a forewarning of some future event.”[110]
Pliny is less certain in regard to the superstitious observances so common then, to secure good luck or ward off evil fortune. In chapter five of his twenty-eighth book he gives quite a list of practices, such as selecting persons with lucky names to lead the victims at public lustrations, saluting those who sneeze, placing saliva behind the ear to escape mental anxiety, removing rings while eating, averting the ill-omen of mentioning fire at meal-time by pouring water beneath the table, and other superstitious table etiquette. He cites beliefs of the same nature, as that odd numbers are for every purpose the more efficacious, that medicines do no good if placed on a table before being administered, that baldness and headaches may be prevented by cutting the hair on the seventeenth and twenty-ninth days of the moon, and that women who walk along country roads twirling distaffs, or even having these uncovered, bring very bad luck, especially to the crops. He seems to have inclined to the belief that there was a modicum of truth, at any rate, in these notions and customs — and certainly we have already seen him affirming the validity of analogous practices — but he finally decides that amid the great variety of opinion existing in the matter he will not be dogmatic and that each person may think as he deems best. His attitude is much the same in regard to divination from thunder and lightning.[111]
With all the foolish notions which he imbibed from antiquity or into which his mind, over-hospitable to the fantastic and marvelous, led him, Pliny had one good scientific trait. He might believe in magic but he had no liking for the esoteric. His mind might be confused but it was not mystical. He had no desire to hide the “secrets” of science and philosophy from the public gaze, to wrap them up in obscure and allegorical verbiage lest the unworthy comprehend them. On the contrary, he sharply remarked apropos the lack of information about the medicinal properties of plants, that there was a most shameful reason for this scarcity, namely, that even those who knew were unwilling to give forth their knowledge, “as if that would be lost to themselves which they passed on to others.”[112]
Such, then, is the Natural History. Pliny gives evidence that many of the most intelligent men were coming to doubt a large part of the superstitious beliefs and observances once universally prevalent, and he himself makes a brave effort to assume a critical and judicious attitude. Yet his work contains a great deal of magic and reveals, what this essay in its entirety will make further evident, the error of such a statement as — the following from Dr. White’s Warfare of Science and Theology:
Under the old Empire a real science was coming in and thought progressing. Both the theory and practice of magic were more and more held up to ridicule. Even as early a writer as Ennius ridiculed the idea that magicians, who were generally poor and hungry themselves, could bestow wealth on others; Pliny, in his Natural Philosophy, showed at great length their absurdities and cheatery; others followed in the same line of thought, and the whole theory, except among the very lowest classes, seemed dying out.[113]
Aside from unfairness in the general tone and mode of presentation, — Cosmas Indicopleustes, for instance, is set forth as a typical representative of mediaeval science of the clerical type, while Albertus Magnus is not permitted to stand as a representative of “theological” science at all but is pictured as one inclined to true science who was frightened into the paths of theology by an ecclesiastical (tyranny bitterly hostile to scientific endeavor — the author makes some inexcusable mistakes in details. For instance, after speaking of “theological” methods, he proceeds (vol. i, p. 33): “Hence such contributions as that the basilisk kills serpents by his breath and men by his glance,” apparently in serene ignorance of the fact that this statement about the basilisk was a commonplace of ancient science. Again (vol. i, p. 386) he tells us that in 1163 the Council of Tours and Alexander III “forbade the study of physics to ecclesiastics, which of course in that age meant the prohibition of all such scientific studies to the only persons likely to make them.” On turning to the passage cited we find the prohibition to be that persons,who have vowed to lead a monastic life shall not absent themselves from their monasteries for the purpose of studying “physica” (which the context indicates means medicine, not physics), or reading law. The canon does not apply to all ecclesiastics, and it is as absurd to infer from it that “all such scientific studies were prohibited to the only persons likely to make them” as to conclude that henceforth no one could study civil law. To argue from a single piece of legislation is hazardous in any case. (For the canon, see Harduin, vol. vi, pt. ii, p. 1598. Canon viii.)
On the whole the book strikes one as an unscientific eulogy of science and a bigoted attack on bigotry. The inconsistency of the author’s professions and practice, to say nothing of the somewhat perplexing arrangement of his material, reminds one of Pliny’s Natural History.