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.
CHAPTER IV
Some Antecedents of the Belief in Magic in the Roman Empire
Writers who have discussed the intellectual life under the Roman Empire generally agree that it was not marked by originality and creative power, and owed a perhaps unusually large debt to the past. The cosmopolitan character of the Empire, the mingling at that time of the science, theology, philosophy and superstition of different nations, religions and races, deserve equal emphasis. The lore of the magi of Persia, the occult science of Egypt, perhaps even the doctrines of the gymnosophists of India, may be regarded, together with that belief in divination which played such a role in classical religion and government and with other superstitious notions of Greeks and Italians, as contributory to the prominence of magic in the Empire.
To discuss with any attempt at completeness the influence of the past upon the belief in magic in the Empire lies, however, outside the province of this essay. Pliny has shown us something of the union of magic with science in the literature before his day. Philo of Alexandria, Apuleius and the fame of Hermes Trismegistus may give us some notion of the influence of the East. In other writers of the-period of which we treat one may discern further traces of the thought and learning of the past. In general such evidence must suffice. We shall, however, presently take occasion to support our contention that Pliny gives one 56 [56 a fairly good idea of science before his day, by a few citations from two writers of repute, one a Greek and one a Roman, of the period before the Empire. Moreover, the great historical importance of Greek philosophy and the fact that, besides playing a prominent part in Roman culture, it exercised a powerful direct influence on Christian Europe long after the fall of Rome, seem to justify some treatment of its doctrines. Especially may we mention Plato and Aristotle, who exerted great influence not only during classical times, but also the one in the Middle Ages, the other in the period following the decline of Scholasticism.
We naturally incline to regard this earlier period of more or less distinctively Greek thought and learning as a golden age, comparatively speaking, characterized by sane thinking if not also by careful investigation of nature, and free from superstition, credulity and mysticism. The general opinion seems to be that magic entered science and learning and was accepted by men of intellectual prominence only when mental decay had set in and when Oriental influence had become a powerful force.
110
Bk. ii, ch. 86. “Numquam urbs Roma tremuit, ut non futuri eventus alicuius id praenuntium esset.” See also bk. ii, ch. 85.
112
Bk. xxv, ch. 6. “Turpissima causa raritatis quod ctiam qui sciunt demonstrare nolunt, tamquam ipsis periturum sit quod tradiderint aliis.”
113
Vol. i, p. 382. Dr. White’s book, which imputes well-nigh every fantastic feature of mediaeval science to Christian institutions and theology, is written with too little use of primary sources, and considerable ignorance of the character of ancient science.