2. THE MAGIC OF THE MEDIEVAL CHURCH Surely, if a man will but take a view of all Popery, he shall
easily see that
a great part of it is mere magic. William Perkins, A Golden Chaine (1591) (in Workes [Cambridge,
1616-18], i, p. 40) NEARLY
every primitive religion is regarded by its adherents as a medium for
obtaining supernatural power. This does not prevent it from functioning as a
system of explanation,
a source of moral injunctions,
a symbol of social order, or a route to immortality; but it does mean
that it also offers the prospect of a supernatural means of control over
man's earthly environment. The history of early Christianity offers no
exception to this rule. Conversions to the new religion, whether in the time
of the primitive Church or under the auspices of the missionaries of more
recent times, have frequently been assisted by the view of converts that they
are acquiring not just a means of other-worldly salvation, but a new and more
powerful magic. Just as the Hebrew priests of the Old Testament endeavoured
to confound the devotees of Baal by challenging them publicly to perform
supernatural acts, so the BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. A fundamental source for this aspect of
the medieval Church is A. Franz, Die kirchlichen Benediktionen im Mittelalter (Freiburg-im-Breisgau, 19(9), which is based on early medieval
liturgical books. But it does not have much material relating to the later
Middle Ages or to England. In addition to the Yor~ Manut#. and Sarum
Manual I have drawn upon the liturgical texts contained in W. Maskell, Monumenta Ritualia Ecclesiae Anglicanae
(2nd edn, Oxford, 1882). The thirteenth-century Ra¬tionale of G. Durandus is an
invaluable guide to the Church's ritual (French translation by Ch. Barthelemy [Paris, 1854]), and so are many of the
articles in D.T.C. The most comprehensive survey of the superstitions
surrounding the sacraments is still Thien,
Superstitions. C. G. Loomis, White Magic. An Introduction to the Folklore of
Christian Legend (Cambridge, Mass., 1948) provides a useful analysis of the
miraculous content of the Saints' Lives, and there is a suggestive, though
crude, account of Church magic in V. Rydberg, The Magic Of the Middle Ages,
trans. A. H. Edgren (New York, 1879). chap. 2. See
also P. Delaunay, La Medicine et l'eglise (Paris. 1948). Apostles
of the early Church attracted followers by working miracles and performing
supernatural cures. Both the New Testament and the literature of the
patristic period testify to the importance of these activities in the work of
conversion; and the ability to perform miracles soon became an indispensable
test of sanctity. The claim to supernatural power was an essential element in
the Anglo-Saxon Church's fight against paganism, and missionaries did not
fail to stress the superiority of Christian prayers to heathen charms. The
medieval Church thus found itself saddled with the tradition that the working
of miracles was the most efficacious means of demonstrating its monopoly of
the truth. By the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the Lives of the Saints
had assumed a stereotyped pattern. They related the miraculous achievements
of holy men, and stressed how they could prophesy the future, control the
weather, provide protection against fire and flood, magically transport heavy
objects, and bring relief to the sick. Many of these stories were retold in The Golden Legend, a popular
compilation by a thirteenth century Archbishop of Genoa, which was to be
translated by Caxton in 1483 and reissued in England at least seven times
before the Reformation. On
the eve of the Reformation the Church did not as an institution claim the
power to work miracles. But it reaped prestige from the doings of those of
its members to whom God was deemed to have extended miraculous gifts. It
stressed that the saints were only intercessors whose entreaties might go
unheeded, but it readily countenanced the innumerable prayers offered to them
on more optimistic assumptions. The shrines of the saints at Glastonbury, Lindisfarne, Walsingham,
Canterbury, Westminster, St Albans and similar holy places had become objects
of pilgrimage to which the sick and infirm made long and weary journeys in
the confident expectation of obtaining a supernatural cure. Over 500 miracles
were associated with Becket and his shrine; and at the Holy Rood of Bromholm in 1. See, e.g.~ B. Colgrave, 'Bede's Miracle
Stories', Bede. His Life. Times and Writings, ed. A. Hamilton Thompson
(Oxford, 1935), and the passages in Bede cited by J. D. Y. Peel, 'Syncretism
and Religious Change', Comporative Studies in Soc.
and Hist., x (1967-8), p. 134, n. 40. 2. S.T.C lists
eight editions between 1483 and 1527. There is a modem reprint edited by F.
S. Ellis (Temple Classics, 1900) and a discussion in H. C. White, Tudor Books
of Saints and Martyrs (Madison, Wise., 1963), chap. 2. For early instances of
ecclesiastical healing see W. Bonser, The Medical
Background of Anglo-Saxon England (1963), pp. 118-19, and Loomis, White
Magic, passim. Norfolk
thirty-nine persons were said to have been raised from the dead and twelve
cured of blindness. Holy relics became wonder-working fetishes, believed to
have the power to cure illness and to protect against danger; around 1426 the
Bishop of Durham's accounts contain a payment for signing sixteen cattle with
St Wilfrid's signet to ward off the murrain. Images
were similarly credited with miraculous efficacy. The representation of St
Christopher, which so frequently adorned the walls of English village
churches, was said to offer a day's preservation from illness or death to all
those who looked upon it. St Wilgerfort, better
known as St Uncumber, whose statue stood in St
Paul's, could eliminate the husbands of those discontented wives who chose to
offer her a peck of oats. The large mounted wooden figure of Derfel Gadarn at Landderfel, near Bala,
protected men and cattle, rescued souls from Purgatory, and inflicted disease
upon his enemies: Henry VIII's visitors found five or six hundred worshippers
at the shrine on the day they went there to pull it down. Saints indeed were
believed to have the power to bestow diseases as well as to relieve them. ‘We
worship saints for fear,’ wrote William Tyndale in the early sixteenth
century, ‘lest they should be displeased and angry with us, and plague us or
hurt us; as who is not afraid of St Laurence? Who dare deny St Anthony a
fleece of wool for fear of his terrible fire, or lest he send the pox among
our sheep?’ The
worship of saints was an integral part of the fabric of medieval society and
was sustained by important social considerations, individual churches had
their own patron saints, and strong territorial associations could give
hagiolatry an almost totemic character: ‘Of all Our Ladies,’ says a character
in one of Thomas More's writings, ‘I love best Our Lady of Walsinghamand I saith the
other, Our Lady of Ipswich.’ 3. P. A. Brown, The Development of the Legend of Thomas Becket (Phila¬delphia, 1930), p. 258; W. Sparrow Simpson, 'On the
Pilgrimage to Brom¬holm in Norfolk', lourn. Brit. Archaeol. Assoc.,
xxx (1874); Kittredge, Witch¬craft, pp. 37-8.
Examples of resort to miraculous shrines can be found in J. C. Wall, Shrines of British Saints (1905), pp. 129,213. 4. One hundred and eighty-six examples
of the painting of St Christopher are cited by M. D. Anderson, Looking for
History in British Churches (1951), pp. 144-5. For St Uncumber,
T. More, The Dialogue concerning Tyndale, ed. W. E. Campbell (1931), pp. 166-7, and for Derfel
GacJam, G. Williams, The Welsh Church from Conquest
to Reformation (Cardiff, 1962), pp. 495, 502., 5. W. Tyndale, Expositions and Notes, ed. H. Walter (Cambridge,
P.S., 1849), p. 165. ct. D. Erasmus, Pilgrimages to St Mary of Walsingham and St Thomas of Canterbury, ed. J. G. Nichols
(1849), p. 79. The basic saints and
their appropriate specialisms see T. J. Pettigrew, On Superstitions connected
with the History and Practice of Medicine (1844), pp. 37-8; Brand,
Antiquities, i, pp. 363-4; W. O. Black, Folk-Medicine (1883), pp. 90-94. Pilgrims
brought money into the community and the inhabitants grew dependent upon
them: in Elizabethan times, for example, it was pointed out that St Wistan's church in Leicestershire had previously been
maintained by the proceeds of the annual pilgrimage. Every medieval trade had
the patronage of its own especial saint, who was corporately worshipped, and
whose holy day had strong occupational affiliations: Our
painters had Luke, our weavers had Steven, our millers had Arnold, our
tailors had Goodman, our sowters [cobblers] had
Crispin, our potters had S. Gore with a devil on his
shoulder and a pot in his hand. Was there a better horseleech ... than S.
Loy? Or a better sow gelder than S. Anthony? Or a better toothdrawer
than S. Apolline? Reginald
Scot could thus mock these occupational saints in the years after the
Reformation, but his words reveal the depth of the social roots of this form
of popular devotion. The patronage of the saints gives a sense of identity
and of corporate existence to small and otherwise undifferentiated institutions.
Hence their enduring popularity as names for colleges and schools even in a
Protestant era. Local
loyalties could thus sustain an individual's allegiance to a particular
saint. But the worship of saints in general depended upon the belief that the
holy men and women of the past had not merely exemplified an ideal code of
moral conduct, but could still employ supernatural powers to relieve the
adversities of their followers upon earth. Diseases, like occupations and
localities, were assigned to the special care of an appropriate saint, for in
the popular mind the saints were usually regarded as specialists rather than
as general practitioners. ‘So John and S. Valentine excelled at the
falling evil,’ recalled Scot, ‘S. Roch was good at
the plague, S. Petronill at the ague.
As for S. Margaret she passed Lucina for a midwife, ... in which respect S. Marpurge
is joined with her in commission. For madmen and such as are possessed with devils,
S.. Romane was excellent,
and friar Ruffine was also prettily skilful in that art. For botches and biles,
Cosmus and Damian; S. Clare for the eyes. S. Apolline for teeth, S. Job for the pox. And for sore
breasts S. Agatha. The
saints were always on call to deal with a variety of daily eventualities.
Pregnant women could use holy relics -girdles, skirts and coats -kept for the
purpose by many religious houses, and they were urged by midwives to call
upon St Margaret or the Virgin Mary to reduce the pangs of labour, or to
invoke St Felicitas if they wished to ensure that
the new child would be a boy. Henry VII's queen paid 6s. 8d. to a monk for a
girdle of Our Lady for use in childbirth. The variety of other secular
contexts in which saints could also be invoked is indicated by John Aubrey's
nostalgic description of the part they had once played in the daily lives of
the Wiltshire country folk: At St Oswaldsdown and Fordedown, and thereabout,
the shepherds prayed at night and at morning to St Oswald (that was martyred
there) to preserve their sheep safe in the fold ... When they went to bed
they did rake up their fire and make a cross in the ashes and pray to God and
St Osyth to deliver them from fire and from water
and from all misadventure ... When the bread was put into the oven, they
prayed to God and to St Stephen, to send them a just batch and an even. The
impetus behind the worship of saints seems to have slackened considerably during
the fifteenth century. But until the Reformation miracles at holy shrines
continued to be reported. In 1538 a Sussex parson was still advising his
parishioners to cure their sick animals by making offerings to St Loy and St
Anthony. The
powers popularly attributed to the saints were, however, only one particular
instance of the general power which the medieval Church, in its role as
dispenser of divine grace, claimed to be able to exercise. By the early
Middle Ages the ecclesiastical authorities had developed a comprehensive
range of formulae designed to draw down God's practical blessing upon secular
activities. 9. The Whole Works of ... Jeremy Tay/or,
ed. R. Heber and revd by C. P. Eden (1847-54), vi, p. 257; C. F. BUhler,
'Prayers and Channs in Certain Middle English
Scrolls', Speculum, xxxix (1964), p. 274, n. 31. cf. Later Writings of Bishop
Hooper, ed. C. Nevinson (Cambridge, P.S., 1852), p.
141; Frere and Kennedy, Articles and Injunctions, ii, p. 58, n. 2; C. S. L. Linnell, Norfolk Church Dedications (York, 1962), pp.
11-12 n. 1. Aubrey, Gentilisme, p. 29. 2. See R. M.
Clay, The Mediaeval Hospitals of England (1909), p. 9, and O. H. Oerould, Saints' Legends (Boston, 1916), p. 292. 12. L.P., xiii (1), no. 1199. The
basic ritual was the benediction of salt and water for the health of the body
and the expulsion of evil spirits. But the liturgical books of the time also
contained rituals devised to bless houses, cattle, crops, ships, tools, armour, wells and kilns. There were formulae for blessing
men who were preparing to set off on a journey, to fight a duel, to engage in
battle or to move into a new house. There were procedures for blessing the
sick and for dealing with sterile animals, for driving away thunder and for
making the marriage bed fruitful. Such rituals usually involved the presence
of a priest and the employment of holy water and the sign of the cross. Basic
to the whole procedure was the idea of exorcism, the formal conjuring of the
devil out of some material object by the pronunciation of prayers and the invocation
of God's name. Holy water, thus
exorcised, could be used to drive away evil spirits and pestilential vapours.
It was a remedy against disease and sterility, and an instrument for blessing
houses and food; though whether it worked automatically, or only if the
officiating priest was of sufficient personal holiness, was a matter of
theological dispute. Theologians
did not claim that these procedures made the practical precautions of daily
life superfluous, but they did undoubtedly regard them as possessing a power
which was more than merely spiritual or symbolic. The formula for
consecrating the holy bread, given away to the laity on Sundays in lieu of
the eucharist, called on God to bless the bread, ‘so
that all who consume it shall receive health of body as well as of soul’. It was regarded as a medicine for the sick
and a preservative against the plague. As
for holy water, there were some theologians who thought it superstitious to
drink it as a remedy for sickness or to scatter it on the fields for
fertility; but the orthodox view, firmly based upon the words of the
benediction, was that there was nothing improper about such actions, provided
they were performed out of genuine Christian faith. Periodically, therefore,
the holy water carrier went round the parish so that the pious could sprinkle
their homes, their fields and their domestic animals. As late as 1543, when a
storm burst over Canterbury, the inhabitants ran to church for holy water to
sprinkle in their houses, so as to drive away the evil spirits in the air,
and to protect their property against lightning. At about the same date the
vicar 13. For these rituals, see the Bibliographical Note above. A
large collec¬tion was translated and published as
The Doctrine of tlte Masse Booke
by N. Dorcastor in 1554. 1. Sa rum
Manual, p. 4; Maske11, Monumenta Ritualia, i, p. cccxviii, n. 74. 2. Thiers,
Superstitions, ii, p. 24. of Bethersden,
Kent, could advise a sick parishioner to drink: holy water as a help to her
recovery. In the seventeenth century
Jeremy Taylor lamented of the Irish that ‘although not so much as a chicken
is nowadays cured of the pip by holy water, yet upon all occasions they use
it, and the common people throw it upon children's cradles, and sick cows’
horns, and upon them that are blasted, and if they recover by any means. it is imputed to the holy water' . The Devil, it was
agreed, was allergic to holy water, and wherever his influence was suspected
it was an appropriate remedy. In the reign of Elizabeth I. Widow Wiseman,
later a Catholic martyr, threw holy water at her
persecutor, Topcliffe, whose horse thereupon flung
him to the ground. Topcliffe raged against her, ‘calling
her an old witch, who by her charms had made his horse to lay him on the
ground, but [relates the Catholic source for this episode] she with good reason
laughed to see that holy water had given him so fine a fall.’ Here, as Protestant commentators were to
urge, the distinction between magic and religion was an impossibly fine one. The
same was true of the numerous ecclesiastical talismans and amulets whose use
the Church encouraged. As one Protestant versifier wrote: ‘About these
Catholics’' necks and hands are always hanging charms,/That
serve against all miseries and all unhappy harms.’ Theologians held that there was no
superstition about wearing a piece of paper or medal inscribed with verses
from the gospels or with the sign of the cross, provided no non-Christian
symbols were also employed. The most common of these amulets was the agnus dei, a
small wax cake, originally made out of paschal candles and blessed by the
Pope, bearing the image of the lamb and flag. This was intended to serve as a
defence against the assaults of the Devil and as a preservative against
thunder, lightning, fire, drowning, death in child-bed and similar dangers. 16. L.P., xviii (2), pp. 296, 300. 1. The Whole
Works ... of Jeremy Taylor, vi, p. 268. 2. The
Chronicle of the English Augustinian Canonesses Regular of the Lateran, at St
Monica's in Louvain, ed. A. Hamilton (1904), i, p. 84. 19. T. Naogeorgus, The Popish
Kingdome, trans. B. Googe, ed. R. C. Hope (1880),
f. 57v. 20. See Aquinas, Summa Theologica,
11.2.96.4; Scot. Discoverie. XII.ix;
J. L. Andre, 'Talismans', The Reliquary, n.s.,
vii (1893). After
the Reformation Bishop Hall commented on the survival of the associated
belief in protective power of St John's Gospel, ‘printed in a small roundel
sold to the credulous ignorants with this fond
warrant, that whoever carries it about with him shall be free from the
dangers of day's mishaps’. In
the seventeenth century rosaries were similarly blessed as a protection
against fire, tempest, fever and evil spirits. The
same preservative power was attributed to holy relics. For example. John Allyn. an Oxford recusant, was
said to possess a quantity of Christ's blood, which he sold at twenty pounds
a drop: those who had it about them would be free from bodily harm. The sign of the cross was also employed to
ward off evil spirits and other dangers. In North Wales it was reported in
1589 that people still crossed themselves when they shut their windows, when
they left their cattle, and when they went out of their houses in the
morning. If any misfortune befell them or their animals their common saying
was ‘You have not crossed yourself well today’, or ‘You have not made the sign
of the rood upon the cattle’, on the assumption that this omission had been
the cause of their mishap. Ecclesiastical
preservatives of this kind were intended to give protection in a wide variety
of contexts. The consecration of church bells made them efficacious against
evil spirits and hence enabled them to dispel the thunder and lightning for
which demons were believed to be responsible. When a tempest broke out, the
bells would be rung in an effort to check the storm: this happened at
Sandwich, for example. in ‘the great thundering’ of
1502, and again in 1514. Alternatively, one could invoke St Barbara against
thunder, or tie a charm to the building one wished to protect, though an agnus dei failed to save 21. The Works of .. . Joseph Hall. ed. P. Wynter (Oxford. 1863),
vii, p. 329. On the agnus dei
see D.T.C., i, cols. 605-13. 22. H.M.C., Rutland, i, p. 526. 1. C.S.P.D.,
1591-4, p. 29. The Venetian practice of flocking to the altars of St Charles Borromeo to seek preservation against sudden death is
described in H.M.C., x, appx. i,
p. 553. 2. P.R.O., SP
12/224/145v (also printed in Archaeologia Cambrensis [3rd ser.], i [1855], p. 236). 3. D. Gardiner,
Histo"ric Haven. The Story of Sandwich (Derby,
1954), p. 166. Other examples in Kittredge, Witchcraft, p. 158; Aubrey,
Miscellanies, p. 141; 1. C. Cox, Churchwardens' Accounts (1913), pp. 212-13;
B. Weldon, Chronological Notes concerning the . ..
English Congregation of the Order of St. Benedict (1881), p. 185. The fonnula for consecrating bells is in Sarum
Manual. pp. 175-7. St
Albans Abbey from being struck by lightning in the thirteenth century. As a
protection against fire there were ‘St Agatha's letters’, an inscription
placed on tiles, bells or amulets. Fasting on St Mark's day was another means
of gaining protection; or one could appeal to St Oement
or to the Irish saint Columbkille. In 1180 the holy
shrine of St Werberga was carried round Chester and
miraculously preserved the city from destruction by fire. In addition. there were exorcisms to make the fields fertile; holy
candles to protect farm animals; and formal curses to drive away caterpillars
and rats and to kill weeds. At the dissolution of the Abbey of Bury St
Edmunds there were discovered relics for rain, and certain other
superstitious usages for avoiding of weeds growing in corn. The
medieval Church thus acted as a repository of supernatural power which could
be dispensed to the faithful to help them in their daily problems. It was
inevitable that the priests, set apart from the rest of the community by
their celibacy and ritual consecration, should have derived an extra cachet
from their position as mediators between man and God. It was also inevitable
that around the Church, the clergy and their holy apparatus there clustered a
horde of popular superstitions, which endowed religious objects with a
magical power to which theologians themselves had never laid claim. A
scapular, or friar's coat, for example, was a coveted object to be worn as a
preservative against pestilence or the ague, and even to be buried in as a
short cut to salvation: Bishop Hugh Latimer confessed that he used to think
that if he became a friar it would be impossible for him to be damned. 1. T. Walsingham, Gesta Abbatum monasteri; Sancti Albani, ed. H. T. Riley (Rolls Series, 1867-9), i, p.
313. 2. Homilies, p.
62, n. 20; V. Alford, 'The Cat Saint', Folk-Lore, Iii (1941); P. B. G. Binnall in ibid., liii
(1943), p. 77; W. Tyndale, An Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, ed. H.
Walter (Cambridge, P.S., 1850), p. 61; G. R. Owst, Literature and Pulpit in
Medieval England (2nd edn, Oxford. 1961), p. 147;
C. Singer, 'Early English Magic and Medicine', Procs.
Brit. Acad., ix (1919-20), p. 362. 28. Wall, Shrines of British Saints, p. 61. 1. B. Willis,
An History of the Mitred Parliamentary Abbies and Conven¬tual
Cathedral Churches (1718), i, appx.. p. 58; G. Stonns, Anglo-Saxon
Magic (The Hague, 1948), pp. 313-14; Scot, Discoverie,
XII.xxi (holy candles); B. L. Manning, The People's
Faith in the Time Of Wyclif (Cam¬bridge,
1919), p. 94; G. G. Coulton, The Medieval Village
(Cambridge, 1925), p. 268; id., 'The Excommunication of ,Caterpillars',
History TeacheTl Miscellany, iii (1925); G. R.
Elton, Star Chamber Stories (1958), p. 206. 2. Foxe. vii, p. 489; Homilies, p. 59. For the origin of the
notion, H. C. The
church and churchyard also enjoyed a special power in popular estimation,
primarily because of the ritual consecration of the site with salt and water.
The key of the church door was said to be an efficacious remedy against a mad
dog, and the soil from the churchyard was credited with special magical
power; and any crime committed on holy ground became an altogether more
heinous affair, simply because of the place where it had occurred. This was recognised by a statute of the reign of Edward VI
imposing special penalties for such offences; if the consecrated area were
polluted by some crime of violence a special act of reconciliation was
necessary before it could be used again for religious purposes. Even the coins in the offertory were
accredited with magical value; there were numerous popular superstitions
about the magical value of communion silver as a cure for illness or a lucky
charm against danger. But
it was above all in connection with the sacraments of the Church that such
beliefs arose. The Mass, in particular, was associated with magical power and
for this, it must be said, the teaching of the Church was at least indirectly
responsible. During the long history of the Christian Church the sacrament of
the altar had undergone a process of theological reinterpretation. By the
later Middle Ages the general effect had been to shift the emphasis away from
the communion of the faithful, and to place it upon the formal consecration
of tile elements by the priest. The ceremony thus acquired in the popular
mind a mechanical efficacy in which the operative factor was not the participation
of the congregation, who had become virtual spectators, but the special power
of the priest. Hence the doctrine that the laity could benefit from being
present at the celebration even though they could not understand the
proceedings. If too ignorant to follow a private mass book, they were
encouraged to recite whatever prayers they knew; so that during the Mass the
priest and people in fact pursued different modes of devotion. The ritual was
said, in a notorious phrase, to work ‘like a charm upon an adder’. Lea, A History of Auricular Confession and Indulgences (1896),
iii. pp. 263, 496-500, and H. Thurston, 'Scapulars', The Month, cxlix-cl
(1927). 31. Thiers, Superstitions, ii, p. 49~ 1. A Watkin, Dean Cosyn and Wells
Cathedral Miscellanea (Somer,et
Rec. Soc., 1941), p. 158; 5 and 6 Edward VI cap. 4 (1551-2). 2. For this
expression, G. G. Coulton. Medieval Studies. 14
(2nd edn. 1921), pp. 24-5. For this controversial
subject I have drawn on both C. W. Dugmore, The Mass and the English Reformers (1958), and
F. Clark, Eucharistic Sacrifice and the Reformation (1960). In the actual miracle of transubstantiation the 'instrumental
cause' was the formula of consecration. Theologians refined this doctrine
considerably, but their subtleties were too complicated to be understood by
ordinary men. What stood out was the magical notion that the mere
pronunciation of words in a ritual manner could effect a change in the
character of material objects. The
reservation of the sacrament at the altar as an object of devotion had become
customary in England by the thirteenth century and the element of mystery
attaching to it was enhanced by the construction in the later Middle Ages of
enclosed sanctuaries to protect the elements from the gaze of the public.
Literalism generated anecdotes of how the Host had turned into flesh and
blood, even into a child. The notion spread that temporal benefits might be
expected from its mere contemplation, and the belief was enhanced by the
readiness of the Church to multiply the secular occasions for which masses
might be performed as a means of propitiation. There were masses for the sick
and for women in labour, masses for good weather and for safe journeys,
masses against the plague and other epidemics. The Sarum
Missal of 1532 contained a special mass for the avoidance of sudden death. In
1516 the Priory of Holy Cross at Colchester received a grant of land, in
return for the celebration of a solemn mass ‘for the further prosperity of
the town’. It was common to attach
special value to the performance of a certain number of masses in succession
-five, seven, nine or thirty (a trental). The
ceremony could even be perverted into a maleficent act by causing masses for
the dead to be celebrated for persons still alive, in order to hasten their
demise. The fifteenth-century treatise Dives
and Pauper inveighed against those ‘that for hate or wrath that they bear
against any man or woman take away the clothes of the altar, and clothe the
altar with doleful clothing, or beset the altar or the cross about with
thorns, and withdraw light out of the church or ... do sing mass of requiem
for them that be alive, in hope that they should fare the worse and the
sooner die.’ The clear implication was that the clergy themselves were
sometimes involved in these perversions. 1. C. W. Dugmore, in lourn. of Theol. Studs., n.s., xiv
(1963), p. 229. 2. C. N. L.
Brooke, 'Religious Sentiment and Church Design in the Later Middle Ages"
Bull. of the lohn Rylands Lib.,l (1967). For a
good example of popular literalism see E. Peacock, 'Extracts from Lincoln
Episcopal Visitations', Archaeoiogia, xlviii
(1885). pp. 251-3. 3. G. G. Coulton, Five Centuries of Religion (Cambridge, 1923-50),
i, pp. 117-18. For lists of such purposes, Delaunay, La Medicine et reglbe, pp. 10-11; Maskell, Monumenta Ritualia, i, pp.
lxxx-lxxxi; Dugmore, The Mass and the English
Reformers, pp. 64-5. The fullest account (for Gennany)
is A. Franz, Die Messe im deutschen Mittelalter (Freiburg-im-Breisgau, 1902). 37. Essex Review. xlvi (1937). pp.
85-6. A
plethora of sub-superstitions thus accumulated around the sacrament of the
altar. The clergy's anxiety that none of the consecrated elements should be
wasted or accidentally dropped on the floor encouraged the idea that the Host
was an object of supernatural potency. The officiating priest was required to
swallow the remaining contents of the chalice, flies and all if need be, and
to ensure that not a crumb of the consecrated wafer was left behind. The
communicant who did not swallow the bread, but carried it away from the
church in his mouth was widely believed to be in possession of an impressive
source of magical power. He could use it to cure the blind or the feverish;
he could carry it around with him as a general protection against ill
fortune, or he could beat it up into a powder and sprinkle it over his garden
as a charm against caterpillars. Medieval stories relate how the Host was
profanely employed to put out fires, to cure swine fever, to fertilize the
fields and to encourage bees to make honey. The thief could also convert it
into a love-charm or use it for some maleficent purpose. Some believed that a
criminal who swallowed the Host would be immune from discovery; others held
that by simultaneously communicating with a woman one could gain her
affections. In the sixteenth century
John Bale complained that the Mass had become a remedy for the diseases of
man and beast. It was employed by ‘witches . . . sorcerers, charmers,
enchanters, dreamers, soothsayers, necromancers, conjurers, cross-diggers,
devil-raisers, miracle-doers, dog leeches and bawds’. The first Edwardian
Prayer Book accordingly insisted that the bread should be placed by the
officiating minister direct in the communicant's mouth, because in past times
people had often carried the sacrament away and ‘kept it with them and
diversely abused it, to superstition and wickedness’. 1. Dives and
Pauper (1536), f. 51. cf. Kittredge, Witchcraft, p. 75; Thiers,
Superstitions, iii, 5, chaps. vii-viii, xi; O . .R. Owst, 'Sortilegium in English
Homiletic Literature of the Fourteenth Century'; in Studies Presented to Sir
Hilary Jenkinson, ed."J.
C. Davies (1957), p. 281. 2. A doctrine
well illustrated by the nauseous anecdote in Weldon, Chronological Notes, pp.
234-5. 40. Coulton, Five Centuries of Religion,
i, cap. 7; Thiers, Superstitions, ii. 3, chap. xi; P. Browe,
Die eucharistischen Wunder
des Mittelalters (Breslau, 1938); Mirk's Feslial, ed. T. Erbe (B.E.T.S.), i (1905), pp. 173-4; The Works of John
Jewel, ed. J. Ayre (Cambridge, P.S., 1845-50), i.
p. 6; Scot, Discoverie. XII.ix.
It
was because of this magical power thought to reside in consecrated objects
that ecclesiastical authorities had long found it necessary to take elaborate
precautions against theft. The Lateran Council of 1215 had ruled that the eucharist and the holy oil should be kept under lock and
key, and the later medieval English Church showed a keen interest in
enforcing this stipulation. As late as 1557. for example.
Cardinal Pole, in his Injunctions for Cambridge University, insisted that the
font should be locked up, so as to prevent the theft of holy water. Thefts of the Host are known to have
occurred periodically three were reported in London in 1532 -and communion bread
continued to be employed illegitimately for magical purposes in the
post-Reformation era: James Device, one of the Lancashire witches of 1612,
was told by his grandmother. Old Demdike, to present
himself for communion and bring home the bread. Many
of these superstitions, however, did not require anything so
dramatic as the theft of the Host from the altar. Mere attendance at Mass
might secure temporal benefits. In his Instructions for Parish Priests John Myrc, the fourteenth-century Austin Canon of Lilleshall,
claimed the authority of St Augustine for the view that anyone who saw a
priest bearing the Host would not lack meat or drink for the rest of that
day, nor be in any danger of sudden death or blindness. ‘Thousands,’ wrote William
Tyndale in the early sixteenth century, believed that, if they crossed
themselves when the priest was reading St John's Gospel, no mischance would
happen to them that day. The Mass could also be a means of prognosticating
the future or of gaining success in some projected venture, The clergy
disseminated stories of the miraculous benefits which had been known to
spring from communicating, and of the 41. Select Works of John Bale, ed. H. Christmas (Cambridge,
P.S., 1849), p. 236; The Two Liturgies .•• in the
Reign of King Edward VI, ed. J. Ketley (Cambridge,
P.S., 1844), p. 99. For a case in point, A. O. Dickens, Lollards and
Protestants in the Diocese of York, 1509-1558 (1959), p. 16. 42. Powicke and Cheney, Councils and
Synods, passim; Kittredge, Witch¬craft. p. 470;
Frere and Kennedy, Articles and Injunctions, ii, p. 416. 1. Kittredge,
Witchcraft, p. 150; Potts, sig. H3. 2. J. Myrc, Instructions for Parish Priests, ed. E. Peacock
(B.E.T.S., 1868), p. 10. cf. W. Harrington, In this Boke
are Conteyned the Comendacions
of Matrymony (1528), sig. Eiiiv.
45. Tyndale, An Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, p. 61. disastrous consequences
which participation in the ceremony might have on the unworthy communicant. In
the Communion Service in Prayer Book of 1549 the curate was required to warn
the congregation that anyone who received unworthily did so to his own damnation,
both spiritual and temporal, for in this way ‘we kindle wrath over us; we
provoke him to plague us with divers and sundry kinds of death’. In the
seventeenth century the Catholic Church was noted by an intelligent observer
to teach that the host might still be efficacious for ‘safe-journeying by sea
or land, on horseback or on foot; for women that are barren, big, or bringing
forth; for fevers and toothaches; for hogs and hens; for recovery of: lost
goods and the like’. Like
the Mass. the other Christian sacraments all generated a corpus of parasitic
beliefs, which attributed to each ceremony a material significance which the
leaders of the Church had never claimed. By the eve of the Reformation most
of these rituals had become crucial ‘rites of passage’, designed to ease an
individual's transition from one social state to another, to emphasise his
new status and to secure divine blessing for it. Baptism, which signified the
entry of the new-born child into membership of the Church, was necessary to
turn the infant into a full human being, and by the thirteenth century was
expected to take place within the first week of birth. The Church taught that
the ceremony was absolutely necessary for salvation and that children who
died unbaptized were usually consigned to limbo, where they would be
perpetually denied sight of the vision of God and even, according to some
theologians, subjected to the torments of the damned. At the baptismal
ceremony the child was, therefore, exorcised (with the obvious implication
that it had previously been possessed by the Devil), 46. Thiers, Superstitions, iii, v, chap. xii; Manning, The
People's Faith in the Time of Wyclif, p. 19; J. A.
Herbert, Catalogue of Romances in the Department of Manuscripts in the
British Museum, iii (1910), passim. 41. H. More, A Modest Enquiry into the Mystery of Iniquity
(1664), p. 16. 48. A. van Gennep has a brief
discussion of baptism in his pioneering work, The Rites of Passage, trans. M.
B. Vizedom and G. L. Caffee
(1960), pp. 93-6. For medieval teaching on the subject, G. G. Coulton, Infant Perdi¬tion in
the Middle Ages (Medieval Studies, 16, 1922) and G. W. Bromiley,
Baptism and the Anglican Reformers (1953), pp. 48-52. The meaning of tho rites of passage is further discussed by M. Gluckman in Essays on the Ritual of Social Relations, ed.
Gluckman (Manchester, 1962) and R. Horton. 'Ritual
Man in Africa', Africa, xxxiv (1964). annointed with
chrism (consecrated oil and balsam) and signed with the cross in holy water.
Around its head was bound a white cloth (chrisom), in which it would be buried if
it should die in infancy. The
social significance of the baptismal ceremony as the formal reception of the
child into the community is obvious enough, and it is not surprising that
greater meaning should have been attached to the ceremony than the Church allowed.
Even in the early twentieth century it was believed in some rural communities
that children ‘came on better’ after being christened. In the later Middle
Ages it was common to regard baptism as an essential rite if the child were
physically to survive at all, and there were stories about blind children
whose sight had been restored by baptism. Sundry superstitions related to the
day on which the ceremony should take place, the sort of water which should
be used, and the qualifications of the godparents. There were also attempts
to apply the rite in inappropriate contexts, for example, by baptising the caul in which the infant was born, or by
exorcising the mother when she was in labour. Particularly common was the
idea that animals might benefit from the ceremony. It is possible that some
of the numerous cases recorded in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries of attempts
to baptize dogs, cats, sheep and horses may not have arisen from drunkenness
or Puritan mockery of Anglican ceremonies, but have reflected the old
superstition that the ritual had about it a physical efficacy which could be
directed to any living creature. Very
similar ideas surrounded the ceremony of confirmation. This rite had
originally been combined with that of baptism as one integrated ceremony of
Christian initiation. But by the early Middle Ages the two rituals had drawn
apart, though confirmation was still expected to take place when the child
was very young. Various maximum ages, ranging from one year to seven, were
prescribed by English bishops in the thirteenth century; and, although a
minimum age of seven came to be thought appropriate, the 1. On these
notions, Thiers, Superstitions, ii, i. passim; Brand. Popular Antiquities,
ii. pp. 314-5; F. A. Gasquet, Parish Life in
Mediaeval England (1906), pp. 189-90; Delaunay, La Medicine et l'eglise. p. 10; W. M.
Williams. The Sociology of an English Village: Gosforth (1956), pp. 59-60; W.
Hender-son, Notes on the Folk-Lore of the Northern
Counties (newedn, J819), p. 15; County Folk-Lore,
v, ed. Mrs Gutch and M.
Peacock (Folk-Lore Soc., 1908), Pp. 228-9; R. F(amworth),
The Heart Opened by Christ (1654), p." 5. 2. e.g.,
V.C.H., Oxon, ii, p. 42; Sussex Archaeol. Colina .•
xlix. (1960), pp. 53-4; C.S.P.D., 1611-18, p. 540; 1631-3, p. 256; Southwell Act Books. xxii, p.
213; H.M.C., Hiltfield, x.. p. 450; Ully, Autobiography. p. 97. custom was slow to establish itself:
Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VIII, was baptized and confirmed at the age of
three days. Only in the mid sixteenth century did the Council of Trent
require the child to be approaching years of discretion and capable of rehearsing
the elements of belief. At the
confirmation ceremony the bishop would lay hands on the child and tie around
its forehead a linen band which was required to wear for three days
afterwards. This was believed strengthen him against the assaults of the
fiend, and the notion came current that it was extremely bad luck to untie
the band any circumstances. Here too physical effects were vulgarly
attributed to the ceremony: a belief which survived until the nineteenth century,
as evidenced by the case of the old Norfolk woman who claimedl
to have been ‘bishopped’ seven times, because she
found it her rheumatism. Another
ecclesiastical ritual with a strong social significance the churching, or
purification, of women after childbirth, representing as it did society's
recognition of the woman's new role as and her resumption of sexual relations
with her husband after a period of ritual seclusion and avoidance. Extreme
Protestant formers were later to regard it as one of the most obnoxious Popish
survivals in the Anglican Church, but medieval churchmen had devoted a good
deal of energy to refuting such popular superstitions as the belief that it
was improper for the mother to emerge from house, or to look at the sky or
the earth before she had been purified. The Church chose to treat the ceremony as
one of thanksgiving for a safe deliverance, and was reluctant to countenance
any prescribing interval after birth before it could take place. Nor did it
accept the woman should stay indoors until she had been churched. Like the Sarum Manual, Dives and Pauper
stressed that unpurified women might enter church whenever they wished, and ‘those
that that call them heathen women for the time that they lie in be foolish 51. Powicke and Cheney. Councils and
Synods, pp. 32.71, 298. 369, 591, 703, 989; J. D. C. Fisher, Christian
Initiation (Alcuin Club. 1965). 122-3; w. A. Pantin.
The English Church in the Fourteenth Century bridge, 1955), p. 199; Maskell. Monumenta Ritualia. i. pp. cclx-cclxiii. n. 9; Tyndale. Answer to 'More's Dialogue, p. 72; Harrington, In
this are
conteyned the Comendacions
of Matrymony. sig. Eii. 52. R. Forby, The Vocabulary of Eoat Anglia (1830), ii. pp. 406-7. Thiers, Superstitions,
ii, 2. chap. iii; W. Tyndale, Doctrinal Treatises, H. Walter (Cambridge, P.S., 1848). p. 225; County Folk-Lore, v.
ed. and
Peacock, p. 108; Folk-Lore Journ.. ii (1884). p. 348. and sin ... full grievously’. But for
people at large churching was indubitably a ritual of purification closely
linked to its Jewish predecessor. Radical
Protestants were later to blame the ceremony itself, which ‘breedeth and nourisheth many
superstitious opinions in the simple people's hearts; as that the woman which
hath born a child is unclean and unholy’. But a fairer view would have been to regard
the ritual as the result of such opinions, rather than the cause. Virginity,
or at least abstinence from sexual intercourse, was still a generally
accepted condition of holiness; and there were many medieval precedents for
the attitude of the Laudian Vicar of Great Totham, Essex, who refused communion to menstruating
women and those who had had sexual intercourse on the previous night. Such
prejudices may have been reinforced by the all-male character of the Church
and its insistence on celibacy, but they are too universal in primitive
societies to be regarded as the mere creation of medieval religion. The
ceremony of the churching of women took on a semi-magical significance in
popular estimation; hence the belief, which the Church vainly attempted to
scotch, that a woman who died in child-bed before being churched should be
refused Christian burial. The idea of
purification survived the Reformation; even at the end of the seventeenth
century it was reported from parts of Wales that ‘the ordinary women are
hardly brought to look upon churching otherwise than as a charm to prevent
witchcraft, and think that grass will hardly ever grow where they tread
before they are churched’. 53. Dives and Pauper (1536), f. 229; Sarum
Manual, p. 44; Harrington, In this Boke are Conteyned the Comendacions of Matrymony, sig. Div T. Comber,
The Occasional Offices . .. Explained (1679). pp.
506.507. 510. 54. J. Canne, A Necessitie
of Separation (1634), ed. C. Stovel (Hanserd Knollys Soc .•
1849). p. 109 n. 55. J. White, The First Century of Scandalous, Malignant Priests
(1643), p. 50. The Catholic Church regarded abstinence as desirable but
not essential; Thiers. Superstitions. iv. pp. 563-4.
56. J. Toussaert. Le Sentiment religieux en Flandre ala fin du Moyen-Age g:,ari~.
1963), p. 101. ct. Sermons and Remains of Hugh
Latimer. ed. G.B. me (Cambridge, P.S., 1845). p.
xiv. . 57. Kittredge, Witchcraft. p. 145. d.
the nineteenth-century survivals recorded
in J. E. Vaux, Church Folk•Lore (2nd edn, 1902)•. pp. 112-13; OUnty
Folk-Lore. v. p. 228. It
is hardly necessary to detail the allied superstitions which attached
themselves to the ceremony of marriage. Most of them taught that the fate of
the alliance could be adversely affected by breach of a large number of
ritual requirements relating to the time and place of the ceremony, the dress
of the bride, and so forth. Typical was the notion that the wedding ring
would constitute an effective recipe against unkindness and discord, so long
as the bride continued to wear it. Such notions provide a further
demonstration of how every sacrament of the Church tended to generate its
attendant sub-superstitions which endowed the spiritual formulae of
theologians with a crudely material efficacy. This
tendency was perhaps less apparent in the various rituals accompanying the
burial of the dead, such as the convention that the corpse should face East
or that the funeral should be accompanied by doles to the poor. Important
though such observances were in popular estimation. they
related primarily to the spiritual welfare of the soul of the deceased, and
were seldom credited with any direct impact upon the welfare of the living,
save in so far as a ghost who could not rest quietly might return to trouble
the dead man's survivors. Funeral customs are worth studying for the manner
in which they helped to ease the social adjustments necessary to accommodate
the fact of death, but by their very nature they do not testify in the same
way as the other rites of passage to the extent of popular belief in the
material effects of ecclesiastical ritual. Before
a man died, however, he was extended the last of the seven sacraments,
extreme unction, whereby the recipient was anointed with holy oil and tendered
the viaticum. In the eyes of everyone this was a dreadful ritual, and from
Anglo-Saxon times there had been a deep conviction that to receive the viaticum
was a virtual death sentence which would make subsequent recovery impossible.
The medieval Church found it necessary to denounce the superstition that
recipients of extreme unction who subsequently got better should refrain from
eating meat, going barefoot, or having intercourse with their wives. It may
have been in an attempt to counter this fear that the leaders of the Church
chose to stress the possibility that extreme unction might positively assist
the patient's recovery, provided he had sufficient faith. The Council of
Trent emphasized that the ceremony could boost the recipient's will to live,
and Bishop Bonner wrote in 1555 that: 58. W. Taswell, The Church of England
not Superstitious (1714), p. 36; Thiers, Superstitions, iv, 10. 1. See below,
pp. 701-17. 2. Sarum Manual, p. 113; Powicke
and Cheney, Councils and Synods, pp. 305-6,596, 707, 996; Thiers.
Superstitions, iv, 8,'chap 7. Although
in our wicked time small is the number of them that do escape death, having
received this sacrament ... yet that is not to be ascribed unto the lack or
fault of this sacrament, but rather unto the want and lack of steadfast and
constant faith, which ought to be in those that shall have this sacrament
ministered unto them; by which strong faith the power of almighty God in the
primitive church did work mightily and effectually in sick persons anointed. This
was to link unction to the Church's other rites of blessing and anointing the
sick to which it was closely related, and in which the intentions had been
curative rather than merely symbolic. As such it represents a final
manifestation of the physical significance which the sacraments of the Church
were so widely believed to possess. Next
to the sacraments as a means of access to divine assistance came the prayers
of the faithful. Such prayer took many forms, but the kind most directly
related to temporal problems was that of intercession, whereby God was called
upon to provide both guidance along the path to salvation, and help with more
material difficulties. In times of disaster it was appropriate for the clergy
and people to invoke supernatural assistance. Private men made their solitary
appeals to God, while communities offered a corporate supplication, most
characteristically in large processions arranged by the Church. Such
processions were common in medieval England as a response to plague, bad
harvests and foul weather; and it was confidently believed that they could
induce God to show his mercy by diverting the course of nature in response to
the community's repentance. In 1289 the Bishop of Chichester
ruled that it was the duty of every priest to order processions and prayers
when he saw a storm was imminent, without waiting for orders from above. 61. E. Bonner, A Profitable and Necessarye
Doctryne. with Certayne Homelies Adioyned Therunto (1555), sig. Ddili; Council of Trent, Session xiv, Doctrine on the
Sacrament of Extreme Unction, chap. ii. 62. R. M. Woolley, Exorcism and the Healing of the Sick (1932);
B. Poschmann, Penance and the Anointing of the
Sick, trans. F. Courtney (Frei¬burg, 1964). pp.
233--57. A 'blessing for sore eyes' is reproduced on pp. 6-7 of the appendix
to W. Beckett, A Free and Impartial Enquiry into .•. Touch¬ing
for the Cure of the King's Evil (1722). 63. Powicke and Cheney, Councils and
Synods, p. 1086, and index under 'processions'. ¬ This
belief that earthly events could be influenced by supernatural intervention
was not in itself a magical one. For the essential difference between the
prayers of a churchman and the spells of a magician was that only the latter
claimed to work automatically; it had no certainty of success and would not
be granted if God did not to concede it. A spell, on the other hand, need
never go wrong
unless some detail of rituaI
observance had been omitted or a magician had been practising stronger
counter-magic. A prayer, in other words, was a form of supplication: a spell
was a mechanical means of manipulation. Magic postulated occult forces of
which the magician learned to control, whereas religion assumed the direction
of the world by a conscious agent who could only be deflected from his
purpose by prayer and supplication. This distinction was popular with
nineteenth-century anthropologists, but has been rejected by their modern
successors, on the ground that it failed to consider the role which the
appeal to spirits can play in a magician's ritual and which magic has occupied
in some forms of primitive religion. But it is useful in so far as it
emphasizes the non-coercive character of Christian prayers. The Church’s
teaching was usually unambiguous on this point: prayers might bring practical
results, but they could not be guaranteed to do so. In
practice, however, the distinction was repeatedly blurred in the popular
mind. The Church itself recommended the use of prayers when healing the sick
or gathering medicinal herbs. Confessors required penitents to repeat a
stated number of Paternosters, Aves and Creeds, thereby fostering the notion
that the recitation of prayers in a foreign tongue had a mechanical efficacy.
The chantries of the later Middle Ages were built upon the belief that the
regular offering of prayers would have a beneficial effect upon the founder's
soul: they presupposed the quantitative value of masses, and gave, as their
most recent historian puts it, ‘almost a magical value to mere repetition of
formulae’. Salvation itself could be attained, it seemed, by mechanical
means, and the more numerous the prayers the more likely their success. It therefore
became worthwhile to secure other people to offer up prayers on one's own behalf.
1. For the distinction, see, e.g., J.
G. Frazer, The Magic Art (3rd edn. 1911), i, chap.
4; and for criticism G. and M. Wilson, The Analysis of Social Change (Cambridge,
1945), p. 72, and below, pp. 318-25,765-8. 2. K. L. Wood-Legh,
Perpetual Chan tries in Britain (Cambridge, 1965), pp. 308, 312. In
the reign of Henry VIII the Marchioness of Exeter paid twenty shillings to
Elizabeth Barton, the Nun of Kent, to pray that she would not lose her next
child in childbirth, and that her husband would come home safely from the
wars. Sir Thomas More told of a friar in Coventry who declared that anyone
who said his rosary once a day would be saved. The Enchiridion of Salisbury
Cathedral contained a formula with the rubric: ‘Whosoever sayeth this prayer
following in the worship of God and St Rock shall not die of the pestilence
by the grace of God.’ The Catholics, said Jeremy Taylor, taught ‘that prayers
themselves ex opere
operato ... do prevail’, and ‘like the words of
a charmer they prevail even when they are not understood’. The
medieval Church thus did a great deal to weaken the fundamental distinction
between a prayer and a charm, and to encourage the idea that there was virtue
in the mere repetition of holy words. It was the legacy of Catholic teaching,
thought two Elizabethan pamphleteers, that ‘the ignorant sort, beholding a
man affected but only with melancholy, are so strongly conceited that it is
no physical means, but only the good words and prayers of learned men that
must restore them again to their perfect health’. Because medieval
theologians encouraged the use of prayers as an accompaniment to the
gathering of herbs, the notion survived that these plants were useless unless
plucked in a highly ritual manner. The distinguishing feature of the village
wizards of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was their assumption that
the ritual and unaccompanied pronunciation of special prayers cou1d secure
the patient's recovery. This had not
been the teaching of the medieval Church, for prayers, though necessary, were
not intended to be effective without medical treatment. But the clergy had
claimed that the recitation of prayers could afford protection against vermin
or fiends; and without the Church's encouragement of the formal repetition of
set forms of prayer, the magical faith in the 66. L.P., vi, p. 589; A. D. Cheney, 'The Holy Maid of Kent',
T.R.H.S., n.s. Xviii (1904), p. 117, n. 2. 67. H. M. Smith, Pre-Reformation England (1938), pp. 161-2;
Private Prayers Put forth by Authority during the Reign of Queen Elizabeth,
ed. W. K. Clay (Cambridge, P.S., 1851), p. 392, n. 1; Whole Works of
... Jeremy Taylor, vi, p. 251. 68. 1. Deacon and 1. Walker, A Summarie
Answere to ... Master Darel
his Bookes (1601), pp. 211-12. 69. See below, pp. 210-16, 318. 70. Manning, The People's Faith in the Time of Wyclif, pp. 93-4. healing power of Aves and Paternosters
could never have arisen. The rural magicians of Tudor land did not invent
their own charms: they inherited them from medieval Church, and their
formulae and rituals were largely derivative products of centuries of
Catholic teaching. For, in addition to the prayers officially countenanced,
there was a large undergrowth of semi-Christian charms which drew heavily on
formulae. The following extract from the commonplace-book Robert Reynys, a fifteenth-century church reeve at Acle. Norfolk, is typical: Pope
Innocent hath granted to any man that beareth
the length of three nails of Our Lord Jesus Christ upon him and worship
them with five Paternosters and five Aves and a psalter, he shall have gifts
granted to him. The first, he shall not be slain with sword nor knife. The
second, he shall not die no sudden death. The third, his enemies shall not
overcome him. The fourth, he shall have sufficient good honest living. The
fifth, that poisons nor fever nor false witness grieve him. The sixth, he
shall not die without the sacraments of Church. The seventh, he shall be defended
from all wicked spirits, pestilence and all evil things. Charms
of this kind were to be a common feature of popular magic in the century after
the Reformation; and so were the Catholic prayers ritually recited: the
repetition for fifteen days, for example, of the prayers known as St
Bridget's O’es (because they all began with the
invocation '0') was thought to be a means of divining the date of one's own
death. Prayers could also be used for
maleficent purposes, for example, by being recited backwards. Dives and Pauper asserts
that ‘it hath oft been known that witches, with saying of their Paternoster
and dropping of the holy candle in a man's steps that they hated, hath done
his feet rotten off’. This was apparently no exaggeration: in 1543 Joanna
Meriwether of Canterbury, ‘for the
displeasure that she bore towards a young maid named Elizabeth Celsay and her mother, made a fire upon the dung of the
said Elizabeth; and took a holy candle and dropt upon the said dung. And she
told the neighbours that the said enchantment would make the cule [buttocks] of the said maid to divide into two
parts.’ 1. C. L. S. Linnell, 'The Commonplace Book of Robert Reynys', Nor/olk Archaeology,
xxxii (1958-61), p. 125. 2. Deacon and
Walker, A Summar;e Answere, p. 211. The same prayers could also be used to
deliver one's ancestors from Purgatory, H. C. White, The Tudor Books 0/
Private Devotion (Madison, Wise., 1951), pp. 216-17 (their text is in Maskell, Monumenta RUuaiia, iii, pp. 275-82). 3. Thomson,
Later Lollards, p. 83. A Cambridgeshire woman was
slanderously accused of doing this in 1619; Ely D.R., B 2/37. f. 78. Another
way of coercing God into granting the suppliant’s requests was to increase
the incentive by making a vow of some reciprocal service, conditional upon
the success of the prayer. God and man would thus be united by a bond of
mutual self-interest. A sailor in peril of shipwreck might vow candles to a
shrine or assert his readiness to undertake an arduous pilgrimage should he
escape his present danger. In the
seventeenth century women could still emulate the example of Hannah by
solemnly vowing to dedicate their children to a religious career if only
their barrenness could be terminated. The ritual condition of fasting was
also thought efficacious. By the fifteenth century the belief had arisen that
one could avoid sudden death by fasting all the year round on the day of the
week on which the Feast of the Annunciation happened to occur. Conversely,
there were the ‘black-fasts’, designed to secure the death of an
enemy. A
further example of the supernatural power thought to be at the disposal of
the medieval Church is provided by the religious sanctions employed in the
administration of justice. The standard method of inducing a witness to give
honest testimony was to require him to swear a solemn oath as to the truth of
his evidence. The assumption behind this procedure was that perjury would call
forth the vengeance of God, certainly in the next world and quite possibly in
this one. Hence, the slowness of the lay authorities to treat perjury as a
civil offence. The force of such an oath might be further enhanced by
requiring that it be taken on some sacred object -a Bible, or a relic. The
holy taper of Cardigan Priory, for example, was ‘used of men to swear by in
difficult and hard matters’, and it proved a useful source of revenue to the
monks. A note on the eleventh century Red Book of Derby asserts that ‘it was
commonly believed that who should swear untruly upon this book should run
mad’. 74. Dives and Pauper, f. 53; Ewen, ii,
p. 447. 75. The Colloquies of Erasmus, trans. N. Bailey and ed. E.
Johnson (1878), i, pp. 278-9; L.P., i, no. 1786. For a similar attitude in a
modem South Italian village, E. C. Banfield, The
Moral Basis 0/ a Backward Society (Glencoe, nt. 1958), pp. 131-2. 1. Aubrey, Gentilisme, p. 97; R. H. Whitelocke,
Memoirs of Bulstrode Whitelocke
(1860), p. 288. 2. Dives and
Pauper, ft. 60V-61v; below, pp. 611-12. The
sixteenth-century Irish made similar use of St Patrick’s staff, believing
that to perjure oneself on this holy object would provoke an even worse
punishment than if the oath had been sworn on the gospels. In the same way
Anglo-Saxon charters had been kept on an altar or copied into a gospel or
holy book in order to stiffen the sanction against any party who subsequently
broke faith. The effectiveness of such
deterrents is another matter: the historians of early medieval law declare
that ‘our ancestors perjured themselves with impunity’,
and the frequency of perjury in the courts had become a matter of general
complaint by the later Middle Ages. But the reality of the divine sanction never
ceased to be upheld by the Church. An
alternative device for supporting testimony and making agreements binding was
the unofficial use of the Mass as a form of poison ordeal. The suspected
party would be required to communicate, on the assumption that he would be
damned if guilty or dishonest. His willingness to undergo the test would thus
constitute proof of his innocence. In the Tudor period men sometimes took
communion as a means of clearing themselves of some notorious slander. The
same principle gave rise to the convention, which Archbishop Laud attempted
to make obligatory, that newly married persons should take the sacrament
together immediately after the marriage service as a means of confirming
their promises. In modern times the Christian sacraments have been similarly
employed as a poison ordeal by newly converted African people. 78. Three Chapters of Letters relating to the Suppression of
Monasteries. ed. T. Wright (Camden Soc., 1843), p. 186; York Manual, p. xx;
E. Campion, Two bokes of the histories of Ireland,
ed. A. F. Vossen (Assen,
1963), p. [221; P. Chaplais, 'The Origin and
Authenticity of the Royal Anglo-Saxon Diplo¬ma', Journ. of the Soc. of
Archivists, iii (1965), p. 53. cf. Whole Works 01 •.. Jeremy Taylor, vi, p. 175. On oaths in general see J. E.
Tyler, Oaths, their Origins, Nature and History (1834); H. C. Lea,
Superstition and Force (3rd edn, Philadelphia,
1878), pp. 323-7; Dives and Pauper, ff. 93v-94; Aubrey, Gentilisme,
p. 128; C. Hill, Society and Puritanism in Pre-Revolutionary England (1964),
chap. 11. 79. Sir F. Pollock and F. W. Maitland, The History of English
Law (2nd edn, Cambridge, 1952), ii, p. 543; D.
Wilkins, Concilia (1737), iii, p. 534; Sermons by
Hugh Latimer, ed. G. E. Corrie (Cambridge, P.S.,
1844), p. 301. 80. The Works of John Jewel, i, p. 6; C. Chardon, Histoire des Sacremens (Paris, 1745), ii, p. 239; Thiers,
Superstitions, ii, pp. 320-24; Coulton, Five
Centuries of Religion, i, p. 114. 81. C.S.P.D., 1640, p. 279; Aubrey, Gentilisme,
p. 130; d. M. G. Marwick, Sorcery in its Social Setting (Manchester, 1965),
p. 90. In
the Middle Ages holy relics were also used for this purpose. Bishop Latimer
commented on how people flocked to see Christ's Blood at Hailes
Abbey, Gloucestershire. believing ‘that the sight of
it with their bodily eye doth certify them and putteth
them out of doubt that they be in clean life, and in state of salvation
without spot of sin’. There
were also supernatural remedies to check theft, especially the theft of holy
objects. The lives of the saints abounded in stories of the miraculous
retribution which had overtaken those who tried to raid ecclesiastical
treasure-houses or to penetrate some holy shrine. The thief was unable to get
out once he had got in, or the stolen object had stuck to his hands, The man
who stole pyxes from a London church in 1467 was
unable to see the Host until he had confessed, and been absolved. There were
also sundry popular methods of thief-detection in which Christian prayers or
holy books played a key role; a Suffolk witch advised her clients in 1499 to
give their horses holy bread and water to prevent them being stolen. The
medieval Church thus appeared as a vast reservoir of magical power, capable
of being deployed for a variety of secular purposes. Indeed it is difficult
to think of any human aspiration for which it could not cater. Almost any
object associated with ecclesiastical ritual could assume a special aura in
the eyes of the people. Any prayer or piece of the Scriptures might have a
mystical power waiting to be tapped. The Bible could be an instrument of
divination, which opened at random, would reveal one's fate. The gospels
could be read aloud to women in child-bed to guarantee them a safe delivery.
A Bible could be laid on a restless child's head so as to send it to sleep. Dives and Pauper declared that it was
not wrong to try to charm snakes or birds by reciting holy words, provided
the operation was done with reverence. 82. Sermons and Remains of Hugh Latimer, ed. Corrie,
p. 364. 83. Smith, Pre-Reformation England, p. 156. ct. Loomis, White
Magic, pp. 55, 85, 97-8, 194; L. F. Salzman, 'Some
Sussex Miracles., Sussex Notes and Queries, i (1926-7), p. 215. 84. C. Jenkins, 'Cardinal Morton's Register', Tudor Studies, ed.
R. W. Seton-Watson (1924), p. 72. Other ecclesiastical remedies for lost
goods OCCUr in Owst,
Literature and Pulpit, pp. 147-8; Scot, Discoverie,
XIl.ix, xvii; Deacon and Walker, A Sum marie Answere, p. 210. ct. below, p. 254. 85. Tyndale, An Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, pp. 61-2;
B. Holyday, Motives to a qood Life (Oxford, 1657),
p. 129; Dives and Pauper, f.59. The
widely dispersed nature of such notions is eloquent testimony to the power
with which many Englishmen credited the apparatus of the Church. Comparable
assumptions are to be found among many newly converted African peoples today.
Many of the Cewa of Zambia and Malawi believe that
Christians use the Bible as a powerful means of divination, and assume that
conversion is a likely prelude to worldly success; indeed the prophets of the
native pentecostal Churches have tended to usurp the role of the traditional
diviners. The Makah Indians of North America similarly regarded Christianity
as a new means of divination and healing. In Sekhukuniland
the Pedi were attracted to the new religion by the hope of gaining additional
protection against sickness and for the Bantu the healing message of
Christianity was the central pivot of evangelization. In
medieval England the same connection between religion and material prosperity
was given vivid expression in 1465, when a man who had been excommunicated at
the suit of another party retorted defiantly that the excommunication could
not have been valid, for his wheat crop had been no smaller than that of his
neighbours, which it would have been if God had upheld the decree. It
would, of course, be a gross travesty to suggest that the medieval Church
deliberately held out to the laity an organized system of magic designed to
bring supernatural remedies to bear upon earthly problems. The Church was
other-worldly in its main preoccupations. Most of the magical claims made for
religion were parasitic to its teaching, and were more or less vigorously
refuted by ecclesiastical leaders. Indeed our very knowledge of many of these
superstitions is due to the medieval theologians 86. Marwick, Sorcery in its Social Setting, p. 90; J. R.
Crawford, Witch¬craft and Sorcery in Rhodesia
(1967), pp. 41, 221 ft.; P. Tyler, 'The Pattern of Christian Belief in Sekhukuniland', Church Qtly Rev., clxvii (1966), pp.
335-6; B. G. M. Sundkler, Bantu Prophets in South
Africa (2nd edn, 1961), pp. 220, 254-5; B. A. Pauw, Religion in a Tswana Chiefdom (1960), chaps. 2 and
6; E. Colson, The Makah Indians (Manchester, 1953), p. 277. cf. M. J. Field,
Search for Security (1960), pp. 51-2; M. Wilson, Communal Rituals of the Nyakyusa (1959), p. 184; R. W. Lieban,
Cebuano Sorcery (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1967), pp. 32-3; J. D. Y. Peel,
'Understanding Alien Belief Systems', Brit. /ourn. Sociology, xx
(1969), p. 76. 87. Parliamentary Papers. 1883, xxiv (Report of the
Commissioners Appointed to Inquire into the Constitution and Working of the
Ecclesiastical Courts, i), p. 162. For similar beliefs in modern Ireland, K.
H. Connell, Irish Peasant Society (Oxford, 1968), p. 155. and Church Councils who denounced them.
It would be wrong to infer the attitude of medieval Church leaders from the
indictments of the Protestant reformers. Medieval ecclesiastics usually
stressed the primarily intercessionary nature of
the Church’s rites. The recitation of prayers, the worship of saints, the use
of holy water and the sign of the cross were all propitiatory, not
constraining. As the perpetual
extension of Christ's incarnation, the Church claimed to be the mediator between
Man and God, and the dispenser of God’s grace through prescribed channels
(the opus operatum).
The sacraments worked automatically (ex
opere operato),
regardless of the moral worth of the officiating priest, and thus gave
medieval Christianity an apparently magical character. But most other ecclesiastical operations
could only be accomplished by a good priest and a pious laity (ex opere operantis). They were dependent upon the spiritual
condition of those participating: the agnus dei, for example, might fail to protect its wearer if
he was weak in faith. It
was only at a popular level that such agencies were credited with an
inexorable and compelling power. Many later medieval theologians were
strongly rationalist in temperament, and preferred to stress the importance of
human self-help. They had inherited rites from a more primitive era and they
viewed them cautiously. They regarded the sacraments as symbolic representations
rather than as instruments of physical efficacy. As an institution, the Church
was zealous to check the 'excesses of devotion, to vet more closely any
claims to new miracles, to restrain popular ‘superstition’. Moreover, the
late medieval Catholic laity were not all ignorant
peasants; they included educated urban dwellers who were intellectually more
sophisticated than many of the clergy. The vernacular literature of the
fifteenth century testifies to their realistic social outlook. Nevertheless,
there were several circumstances which helped to consolidate the notion that
the Church was a magical agency, no less than a devotional one. The first was
the legacy of the original conversion. 88. cf. Pauw, Religion in a Tswana Chiefdom. pp. 147-8, 195. 89. Franz, Die kirchlichen Benediktionen, ii. pp. 120-3; Manning. The People's Faith
in the Time of Wycliff pp. 83-5; E. Delcambre. Le Concept de la sorcellerie
dans Ie Duche de Lorraine (Nancy. 1948-51). pp. 132-3; A. B. Ferguson, 'Reginald Pecock and
the Renaissance sense of History', Studies in the Renaissance, xiii (1966),
p. 1 SO. 90. A. B. Ferguson, The A rticulate
Citizen and the English Renaissance (Durham, N.C., 1965), chaps. 1-5. It
was not just that the leaders of the Anglo-Saxon Church had laid so much
stress upon the miracle-working power of their saints, and had disseminated
anecdotes illustrating their superiority to any magic the pagans had to
offer; though this in itself made difficult the later efforts to purge religious
teaching of any ‘gross¬ness’. The real difficulty
stemmed from the notorious readiness of the early Christian leaders to assimilate
elements of the old paganism into their own religious practice, rather than
pose too direct a conflict of loyalties in the minds of the new converts. The
ancient worship of wells, trees and stones was not so much abolished as
modified. by turning pagan sites into Christian ones
and associating them with a saint rather than a heathen divinity. The pagan
festivals were similarly incorporated into the Church year. New Year's Day
became the feast of the Circumcision; May Day was St Philip and James;
Midsummer Eve the Nativity of St John the Baptist. Fertility rites were
converted into Christian processions and the Yule Log was introduced into
Celebrations of the birth of Christ. This
well-known process of assimilation was not achieved without some cost, for it
meant that many of the purposes served by the older paganism were now looked
for from nominally Christian institutions. The hundreds of magical springs which
dotted the country became ‘holy wells’, associated with a saint, but they
were still employed for magical healing and for divining the future. Their
water was sometimes even believed to be peculiarly suitable for use in
baptism. Observance of the festivals of the Christian year was thought to
encourage fertility and the welfare of the crops. An eclectic range of ritual
activities was conducted under the auspices of the Church: ‘leading of the
plough about the fire’ on Plough Monday, ‘for good beginning of the year,
that they should fare the better all the year following’; the annual fires
kindled on the hillsides on May Day. St John Baptist Eve and other occasions;
the 1. On this
large subject see especially B. K. Chambers, The Mediaeval Stage, i (Oxford,
1903), chap. 6, and C. R. Baskervill, 'Dramatic
Aspects of Medieval Folk-Festivals in Bngland',
Studies in Philology. xvii (1920). 2. Brand,
Antiquities, ii. pp. 374-5; and for some examples, ibid .•
pp. 369. 385; R. C. Hope, The Legendary Lore of the Holy Wells of England
(1893); Kittredge, Witchcraft, p. 34; V.C.H., Oxon., ii, p. 17. A case of
ecclesiastical action against excessive well-worship is in Diocese of
Hereford. Extracts from the Cathedral R~gisters.
A.D. 1275-1535, trans. B. N. Dew (Hereford. 1932), p.97. 93. Dives and Pauper, f. 50. 94. Mirk's Festial,
p. 182; Sir J. O. Frazer, Balder the Beautiful (1913), i, pp. 196-7; below.
p. 82. flowers draped by the villagers around holy
wells; the offerings of oats,cheese and other
commodities at the shrines of saints. Some were customary calendar rituals
whose pagan origins had long been forgotten, whereas others retained a
frankly magical, purpose. Material prosperity was assumed to be integrally
connected with their observance; and their annual recurrence gave men
confidence in face of their daily problems. The consolations afforded by such
practices were too considerable for the Church to ignore; if the people were going
to resort to magic anyway it was far better that it should be a magic over
which the Church maintained some control. The
Church’s magical claims were also reinforced by its own propaganda, though
theologians drew a fine line between religion and superstition, their concept
of 'superstition' always had a certain elasticity
about it. It was 'superstitious' to use consecrated objects for purposes
other than than those for which they were intended.
It was ‘superstitious’ to attempt to achieve effects, other than those which
might have natural causes, by any operation which had not been authorized by
the Church. But in these, as in other definitions, the last word always lay
with the Church. In general, the ceremonies of which it disaproved
were 'superstitious'; those which it accepted were not. At the Council of
Malines ruled in 1607: ‘It is superstitious to expect any effect from
anything, when such an effect cannot be produced by natural causes, by divine
institution, or by the ordination approval of the Church.’ There was, therefore, no superstition in
believing that the elements could change their nature after the formula of
consecration had been pronounced over them : this
was no magic, but an operation worked by God and the Church; which magic
involved the aid of the Devil. The authors of a fifteenth century treatise
against witchcraft stressed that only natural operations could achieve natural
effects; but they exempted from this rule such approved practices as carrying
around the Host in an attempt: to ‘allay a thunderstorm’. As Catholic
theologians never ceased to emphasize, it was the presence or absence of the
Church’s authority which determined the propriety of any action. 1. Frere a==rl Kennedy. Articles and Injunctions. ii,
p. 57; Bodl .• Oxford• Dioc."
Papers _22 (Depositions, 1590-3). f. 76. 2. Thiers. fuperstitions, ii, p. 8. ct. Malleus, D.2.7; R. Whytforde.
A Werke for rousholders (n.d., copy in Bod!., Ashm. 1215), sig. Ciiv• On the
relativity G the notion, ct. H. Thurston. Superstition (1933). pp. 15-19. 97. MalleuJiiiiiii,[I.2.7.
The
difference between churchmen and magicians lay less in the effects they
claimed to achieve than in their social position, and in the authority on
which their respective claims rested. As the Elizabethan Reginald Scot wrote sardonically
of the Pope: ‘He canonizeth the rich for saints and
banneth the poor for witches.’ Theologians
further enhanced popular belief in the existence of the Church's magical
powers by stressing the mystical powers available to the faithful as a means
of preservation against the assault of evil spirits. They did not deny that
devils could do material damage by bringing thunderstorms or by tormenting
men and animals with occult diseases. But they drew attention to the counter-magic
at the Church's disposal. If a cow was bewitched it should have holy water
poured down its throat. If a man thought he saw a devil he should make the
sign of the cross. If evil spirits brought storms then consecrated bells
could be rung to repel them. And if the Devil took possession of a human
being the Church could ritually exorcize him. So long as certain physical
misfortunes were explained in spiritual terms they could be countered with
spiritual weapons; and here the Church claimed a monopoly. The
leaders of the Church thus abandoned the struggle against superstition
whenever it seemed in their interest to do so. Through-out the Middle Ages their
attitude to the credulities of their simpler followers was fundamentally
ambivalent. They disliked them as gross and superstitious, but they had no
wish to discourage attitudes which might foster popular devotion. If a belief
in the magical efficacy of the Host served to enhance respect for the clergy
and to make the laity more regular church-goers, then why should it not be
tacitly tolerated? Such practices as the worship of relics, the recitation of
prayers, or the wearing of talismans and amulets could all be taken to
excess, but what did it matter so long as their effect was to bind the people
closer to the true Church and the true God? It was the intention of the
worshipper, not the means employed, which counted. Chaucer's Parson commented
that ‘charms for wounds or malady of men or of beasts, if they take any
effect, it may be peradventure that God suffereth
it, for folk should give the more faith and reverence to his name’ Provided
such techniques reflected a genuine trust in God and his saints, no serious
harm could come from them. 98. Scot, Discoverie: A Discourse of Divels, chap. xxiv. 99. See below, pp. 570, 588. So,
at least, most churchmen reasoned. In doing so they made the medieval Church
into a more flexible institution than they perhaps intended, for they were
condoning a situation in which a belief in the potency of Church magic was
often fundamental to popular devotion. Medieval theologians and modern
historians alike have tended to regard such an attitude as merely parasitic
to the main corpus of medieval Catholicism, an accretion which could have
been shorn off without affecting the essential core of belief. So, from the
point of view of the theologians, it was. But it is doubtful whether this
austere distinction between true religion and parasitic superstition could
have been upheld at a popular level. The magical aspects of the Church’s
function were often inseparable from the devotional ones. Many of the
parochial clergy themselves drew no distinction: the suggestion made to a
child at Rye in 1538 that he should drink three times from the chalice to
cure his whooping cough did not emanate from some ignorant parishioner; it
was made by the curate himself. The line between magic and religion is one
which it is impossible to draw in many primitive societies; it is equally
difficult to recognize in medieval England. 100. Chaucer, Parson's Tale, 1.606; Aquinas, Summa Theoiogica, n.2.96.4; Owst,
Literature and Pulpit, pp. 141, 148; Lea, Materials, p. 135; Manning, The
People's Faith in the Time of Wyclif, pp. 78-83. 101. L.P., xiii (I), p. 430. For the same formula, Scot, Discoverie, XII.xvii, and for
the role of the clergy in popular magic, below, pp. 326-7. |