Chapter 41

Sorceries and what they can do.
De veneficiis, earundemque potentia.
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Latin — 1533, repaired

Veneficiorum tanta narratur esse potentia, ut credantur omnia inferiora subvertere, et tabescere et permutare posse, quemadmodum canit Vergilius: Has herbas atque haec Ponto mihi lecta venena ipse dedit Moeris (nascuntur pluruma Ponto), his ego saepe lupum fieri et se condere silvis Moerim, saepe animas imis excire sepulcris, atque satas alio vidi traducere messis. Item alibi de sociis Ulyssis: Quos hominum ex facie dea saeva potentibus herbis induerat Circe in vultus ac terga ferarum. Et paulo post: Picus, equum domitor, quem capta cupidine coniunx aurea percussum virga versumque venenis fecit avem Circe sparsitque coloribus alas. Sunt autem huiusmodi veneficiorum species, cuiusmodi recitat Lucanus de venefica illa Thessala, manes evocante, inquiens: Huc quicquid fetu genuit natura sinistro, miscetur: non spuma canum quibus unda timori est, viscera non lyncis, non dirae nodus hyaenae defuit, et cervi pasti serpente medullae [†remainder of catalogue — remora and serpents' eyes named in Agrippa's summary but exact further lines not confidently reconstructed; left unrestored] Et qualia narrat Apuleius de Pamphila illa venefica, ad amorem operante: cui Fotis ancilla pilos caprinos, ab inflatis utribus detonsos, pro Boeotii adulescentis capillis attulit. Pamphila, inquiens, illa vecors animi, tectum scandulare conscendit, quod altrinsecus aedium patore perflatili, nudarum, ad omnes orientales caeterosque aspectus pervium, maxime his artibus suis commodatum, secreto colit; priusque apparatu solito instruxit feralem officinam, omne genus aromatis, ignorabiliter laminis literatis, et infelicium navium durantibus clavis defletorum, sepultorum etiam cadaverum expositis multis admodum membris: hic nares et digiti, illic carnosi clavi pendentium, alibi trucidatorum servatus cruor, et exorta ferarum dentibus trunca calvaria — tunc decantatis, spirantibus fibris, litat vario latice, nunc rore fontano, nunc lacte vaccino, nunc melle montano libat et mulsa: sic illos capillos in mutuos nexus obditos atque nodatos, cum multis odoribus dat vivis carbonibus adolendos. Tunc protinus, inexpugnabili magicae disciplinae potestate, et caeca numinum coactorum violentia, illa corpora quorum sumebant stridentes capilli, spiritum mutuantur humanum, et sentiunt, et audiunt, et ambulant, et quo nidor suarum ducebat exuviarum veniunt, et pro illo iuvene Boeotio, ad ianuam gestientes, fores insiliunt. Augustinus quoque perhibet se in Italia audivisse mulieres quasdam venenficas, artibus adeo imbutas, ut voluissent, dato caseo, statim homines converterent in iumenta, quae necessaria portarent, et hos, finito opere, in homines iterum restituerent.

Close translation

The power of sorceries is reported to be so great that they are believed able to overturn all lower things, and to waste them away and change them, just as Vergil sings: These herbs, and these poisons gathered for me in Pontus— Moeris himself gave them (very many grow in Pontus)— by these I have often seen Moeris become a wolf and hide himself in the woods, often call up souls from deep tombs, and move sown crops elsewhere, to another field. Likewise elsewhere, of the companions of Ulysses: Whom, from the shape of men, the savage goddess, with her powerful herbs, Circe had clothed into the faces and backs of wild beasts. And a little after: Picus, tamer of horses, whom his wife, seized by desire, struck with a golden wand, and turned by her poisons Circe made him a bird, and scattered colors over his wings. Now there are such further kinds of sorceries as Lucan relates of that Thessalian sorceress who calls up the shades of the dead, saying: Here whatever nature has produced from her sinister womb is mixed in: not the foam of dogs to whom water is a terror is lacking, nor the innards of a lynx, nor the knot of the dread hyena, nor the marrow of a stag fed on a serpent — (remainder of the catalogue, including the remora that holds ships fast and serpents' eyes, is named in Agrippa's summary but its exact further lines are not confidently reconstructed and are left unrestored.) And of the sort that Apuleius relates of that sorceress Pamphila, working toward love-magic: for whom the servant-girl Fotis brought goat-hairs, clipped from inflated wineskins, in place of the hair of a young man of Boeotia. Pamphila, he says — that woman deranged in mind — climbed up to the shingled roof, which, open on every side to a free passage of air, and accessible to every eastward and other aspect, she cultivates in secret, being especially suited to these arts of hers; and she had first equipped her funereal workshop with its accustomed apparatus: every kind of spice, tablets inscribed in unknown characters, and the enduring nails of ill-fated shipwrecks, mourned and given up; and, laid out, very many parts of buried corpses as well — here noses and fingers, there the fleshy nails of hanged men, elsewhere the preserved blood of the slaughtered, and skulls torn and gnawed by the teeth of wild beasts. Then, having chanted her charms over the still-breathing entrails, she makes offering with various liquids — now with spring-water, now with cow's milk, now with mountain honey she pours a libation, and mead as well. Thus she puts those hairs together, bound and knotted in mutual twists, and gives them, with many perfumes, to be burned on live coals. Then at once, by the unconquerable power of the magic art, and by the blind violence of the compelled divinities, those bodies whose hair, still crackling, was consumed, borrow a human spirit, and feel, and hear, and walk, and come to wherever the smoke of their own shorn hair was leading them, and, eager for that Boeotian youth, leap at the door in his stead. Augustine also reports that he himself, in Italy, heard of certain sorceresses so steeped in their arts that, if they wished, by giving a piece of cheese, they would at once turn men into pack-animals, who would carry necessary burdens, and afterward, the work finished, restore them again to men.

Modern rendering

Sorceries are said to have such power that people believe they can overturn everything in the lower world, wasting it away and transforming it — as Vergil sings: These herbs, and these poisons gathered for me in Pontus— Moeris himself gave them to me (a great many grow there in Pontus)— with these I have often watched Moeris turn into a wolf and hide in the forest, often call up souls from the depths of their graves, and move standing crops by magic into someone else's field. And elsewhere, about the companions of Ulysses: Men whose human faces the savage goddess Circe, with her potent herbs, had dressed into the faces and hindquarters of wild animals. And a little further on: Picus, a breaker of horses—his own wife, driven by desire, struck him with a golden wand, and, transformed by her poisons, Circe turned him into a bird, scattering colors across his wings. There are also sorceries of the kind Lucan describes in the Thessalian witch who summons the dead, where he writes: Into this mix goes everything nature has ever spawned from her darkest womb: the foam of dogs that fear water is here, so is a lynx's guts, so is the knotted gut of the grim hyena, and the marrow of a stag that has fed on a snake — (the rest of the list, including the fish that stops a ship dead in the water and snakes' eyes, is described in Agrippa's summary but its exact further lines could not be confidently reconstructed and are left unrestored.) And of the kind Apuleius describes in the sorceress Pamphila, working love-magic — for whom her maid Fotis brought goat hairs, clipped from blown-up wineskins, passing them off as the hair of a young Boeotian man. Pamphila, he says — out of her mind — climbed up onto the shingled roof, open on every side to the wind and facing every direction, a spot she cultivated in private because it suited her particular arts so well; she had already set up her grim workshop in the usual way: every kind of spice, tablets inscribed with unreadable writing, nails pulled — after mourning rites — from wrecked ships, and, laid out besides, quite a number of pieces taken from buried corpses: here noses and fingers, there the fleshy nail-stubs of hanged men, elsewhere blood saved from murder victims, and skulls gnawed and broken by the teeth of wild animals. Then, chanting over organs that still seemed to breathe, she made offerings with different liquids — spring water at one point, cow's milk at another, mountain honey and mead at another. She twisted and knotted the hairs together, and, with many perfumes added, set them to burn on live coals. Immediately then, by the unstoppable power of the magical art and the blind force exerted over the compelled spirits, the bodies whose crackling hair was being burned borrowed a human spirit — they could feel, hear, and walk, and they came toward wherever the smoke from their own hair was drawing them, eager to reach the door in place of the young Boeotian man and throwing themselves at it. Augustine also says he personally heard, in Italy, of women so skilled in sorcery that by giving someone a piece of cheese, they could instantly turn people into pack animals to carry loads, and then, once the job was done, turn them back into people again.

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