Violationism: or, Sorcery in Science
The following address was delivered on Monday evening, January 23rd, by Mrs. Algernon Kingsford, M.D., before the members of the British National Association of Spiritualists, 38, Great Russell-street, W.C.
Believers in scientific men and in their dicta are apt to bring against Spiritualists the charge of reviving the old tricks and evil doings of sorcery. Some persons who make this allegation believe that sorcery, whether ancient or modern, never had, nor can have, any other basis than mere imposture and ignorant credulity; others believe or suspect that it represents a real art of an unlawful and abominable character. I propose to shew that sorcery has indeed been revived in modern times to a considerable extent, but that its revival has taken place, not in the domain of Spiritualism, but in that of “Science” itself.
A further object of my address is to suggest to those who, like myself, hold as a fundamental doctrine of all Spiritual knowledge, the Unity of Substance, and who think it incumbent on them to give the knowledge of that doctrine practical expression in universal sympathy with all forms of sentient being, that it is high time for them to enter the lists actively against the worst manifestation of Materialism and Atheism the world has yet seen, and to declare, as Spiritualists, their recognition of the simple and obvious moral issue of faith in a good God, namely—the duty of Love for all incarnations of the Divine Substance, and horror and reprehension of cruelty as such, whatever plea may be advanced for its practice.
It would be difficult to find stronger evidence of the banefulness of the influence exerted by the materialistic spirit of the day, than that which is furnished by the apathy and uncertainty of the public generally in regard to the practice known as vivisection. To the vitalised minority of persons, the spectacle thus afforded is as amazing as it is deplorable. That any human being, claiming to be civilised, should, through indifference or doubt, hesitate to condemn an organised system of torture, on whatever plea instituted, is in itself sufficiently surprising. But when all the aggravating circumstances are taken into the account—especially the innocence and helplessness of the victims—the prevalent attitude of the public mind becomes explicable only as the result of some moral epidemic.
From the ordinary point of view, the utilitarian and the moral, this question has already been amply discussed, and with these it is not now my purpose to deal. There is a third aspect of it, especially interesting to the student of psychological and occult science, and one which, for want of a more precise definition, may be described as the Spiritualistic. Persons to whom the chronicles of the modern vivisector’s laboratory and the records of ancient and mediaeval sorcery are alike familiar, must doubtless have noted the family resemblance between the two, and will need only to be reminded that the practice whose ethics are now so prominently canvassed in medical conclaves, and on popular platforms, represents no new feature in the world's history, but is in every detail a resuscitation of the old and hideous cultus of the Black Art, whose ghost was deemed to be for ever laid.
The science of medicine, placed originally under the direct patronage of the Gods, whether Egyptian, Oriental, Grecian, or Teutonic, and subsequently under that of the Christian Church, was among all nations in the days of faith associated with the priestly office. The relation between soundness of soul and soundness of body was then held to be of the closest, and the health-giving man, the therapeut, was one who cured the body by means of knowledge, Divine alike in its source and in its method. In Egypt, where the order of the Therapeutic seems to have had its origin, healing was from the earliest times connected with religion, and there is good reason to believe that the practice of medicine was the exclusive and regularly exercised profession of the priesthood, the first hospital of which we have any record being within the consecrated precincts of the temple, and the sick being placed under the immediate care of its ministrants.
More than one deity was associated with medical and therapeutic science. According to Diodorus (lib. i.) the Egyptians held themselves indebted for their proficiency in these respects to Isis. Strabo speaks of the methodical treatment of disease in the Temple of Serapis, and Galen makes similar observations with regard to a temple at Memphis, called Hephæstium, As is well known, the name Paean, the Healer, was one of the most ancient designations of Apollo, in his capacity of Sun-god. This title, and the function it implies, are ascribed to him in the Orphic hymns, in the Odes of Pindar, and in the writings of Hippocrates, Plato, and all the later poets and historians, both Greek and Latin. Ovid attributes to Apollo the declaration:— “Medicine is my invention; throughout the world I am honoured as the Healer, and the power of the herbs is subject to me.”
Æsculapius, reputed the son of Apollo, gave his name to medical science; and his temples, the principal of which were at Titana in Sicily, at Epidaurus in Peloponnesus, and at Pergamus in Asia Minor, were recognised schools of medicine, to whoso hierophants belonged the double function of priest and physician. These medical temples were always built in localities noted for healthiness, and usually in the vicinity of mineral springs, that at Epidaurus, the most celebrated of them all, being situated on an eminence near the sea, its site having been determined doubtless rather by the beauty of the scenery and the purity of the air, than by the tradition that Epidaurus was the birthplace of Æseulapius himself.
The course of treatment adopted comprised hydropathy, shampooing, dieting, magnetism, fumigations, gymnastics, and herbal remedies, internally and externally administered, these remedies being in all cases accompanied with prayers, music, and songs called νόμοι. In the hospitals of Pergamus and Epidaurus the use of wine was forbidden, and fasting was frequently enjoined. It was also held indispensable that the professors of so divine an art as that of medicine should be persons of profound piety and learning, of sound moral and spiritual integrity, and therefore of blameless lives. It was, as Ennemoser observes in his “History of Magic,” deemed necessary that the aspirant after medical honours should be “a priest-physician. Through his own health, especially of the soul, he is truly capable, as soon as he himself is pure and learned, to help the sick But first he must make whole the inner man, the soul, for without inward health no bodily cure can be radical. It is therefore absolutely necessary for a true physician to be a priest.”
This was also the idea of the early Hebrew and Christian Churches, whoso physicians always belonged to the sacred order. Many of the early Christian religious communities were schools of medicine; and the visitation of the sick, not only in the priestly, but in the medical capacity, was hold to be a special function of the clergy. The custom still survives under a modified form in Catholic countries, where “religious” of both sexes are employed in hospitals as nurses and dressers, the higher duties of the calling having been wrested from them by the laity—often too justly designated the “profane.”
Such, universally, was the early character of medical science, and such the position of its professors. “Priest” and “Healer” were religious titles, belonging of right only to initiates in Divinity. For the initiate only could practise the true magic, which, originally, was neither more nor less than the science of religion or the Mysteries, that Divine knowledge, won by reverent and loving study of Nature, which made the Magian free of her secrets and gave him his distinctive power.
Side by side with this true magic, sanctioned by the Gods, taught by the Church, hallowed by prayer, there grew up, like the poisonous weed in the cornfield, the unholy art of the black magician or sorcerer, whose endeavour was to rival, by the aid of sub-human or “infernal” means, the results obtained legitimately by the adept in white or celestial magic.
And, as on the one hand, in order to attain the grace and power necessary to perform Divine works or “miracles,” the true Magian cultivated purity in act and thought, denying the appetites, and abounding in love and prayer; so, on the other hand, in order to achieve success in witchcraft, it was necessary to adopt all the opposite practices. The sorcerer was distinguished by obscene actions, malevolence, and renunciation of all human sentiments and hopes of Heaven. His only virtues— if virtues they can be called—were hardihood and perseverance. No deed was foul enough, no cruelty atrocious enough, to deter him. As the supremacy of the Magian was obtained at the price of self-sacrifice and unwearying love and labour for others, so the sorcerer, reversing the means to suit the opposite end, sacrificed others to himself, and cultivated a spirit of indiscriminate malignity. For the patient and reverent study by means of which the Magian sought to win the secrets of Nature, the sorcerer substituted violence, and endeavoured to wrest from her by force the treasures she gives only to love. In order to attract and bind to his service the power he invoked, he <... continues on page 12-112 >
Editor's notes
- ↑ Violationism: or, Sorcery in Science by Algernon Kingsford, M.D., Light, v. 2, No. 57, February 4, 1882, pp. 55-8
Sources
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Light, v. 2, No. 57, February 4, 1882, pp. 55-8