Magic and witchcraft

Cum anno 1608. ferverent dissidia inter fratres Imp. Rudolphum et Matthiam Archiducem; eorumque actiones vulgo ad exempla referrent, ex historia Bohemica petita; ego publica vulgi curiositate excitus, ad Bohemica legenda animum appuli. Cumque incidissem in historiam Libussæ Viraginis, arte Magica celebratissimæ: factum quadam nocte, ut post contemplationem siderum et Lunæ, lecto compositus, altius obdormiscerem: atque mihi per somnum visus sum librum ex Nundinis allatum perlegere, cuius hic erat tenor.

In the year 1608 a quarrel was raging between two brothers, the emperor Rudolf and the archduke Matthias. People commonly compared their actions to examples from Bohemian history. Caught up in the public curiosity, I set my mind to reading Bohemian tales. I came upon the story of the heroine Libussa, who was famous for her magic art. One night, after watching the stars and the Moon, I went to bed and fell into a deep sleep. In my sleep I seemed to be reading a book brought from the fair. This is what it said.

Primis pueritiæ annis mater me manu trahens, interdumque humeris sublevans, crebrò adducere est solita in humiliora juga, montis Heclæ, præsertim circa festum divi Joannis, quando Sol totis 24. horis conspicuus, nocti nullum relinquit locum. Ipsa herbas nonnullas legens multis cæremoniis, domique coquens, sacculos factitabat ex pellibus caprinis, quos inflatos ad vicinum portum venum importans pro Navium patronis, victum hoc pacto sustentabat.

When I was small, my mother often took me up the lower slopes of Mount Hekla, leading me by the hand and sometimes carrying me on her shoulders. She went especially around the feast of Saint John, when the Sun can be seen for all twenty-four hours and leaves no room for night. She gathered certain herbs with many ceremonies and cooked them at home. Then she made little bags of goatskin, blew them up, and took them to the nearby port to sell to ship captains. That was how she made her living.

Quinquaginta millibus miliarium Germanicorum in ætheris profundo sita est LEVANIA insula: iter ad eam hinc, vel ex eâ in has terras rarissimè patet: et cùm patet nostræ quidem genti facilè est; hominibus verò transportandis planè difficilimum, et cum summo vitæ periculo conjunctum: Nulli à nobis sedentarij adsciscuntur in hunc comitatum, nulli corpulenti, nulli delicati; sed legimus eos, qui ætatem veredorum assiduo usu consumunt, aut qui navibus frequenter Indias adeunt, pane biscocto, allio, piscibus duratis, et cibis abhorrentibus victitare sueti. Inprimis nobis aptæ sunt vetulæ exsuccæ, quibus indè à pueritia trita est ratio, hircos nocturnos, aut furcas, aut trita pallia inequitandi, trajiciendique per immania terrarum spacia. Nulli è Germania viri apti sunt: Hispanorum sicca corpora non respuimus.

Fifty thousand German miles up in the depths of the ether lies the island of Levania. The road to it from here, or from there to these lands, is very rarely open. When it is open, the trip is easy for our kind. But for carrying humans it is extremely hard, and it puts their lives in the greatest danger. We take no one into our company who sits still all day, and no one fat or soft. We choose people who spend their lives riding post-horses, or who often sail to the Indies, living on ship’s biscuit, garlic, dried fish, and other unpleasant food. Dried-up old women suit us best. Since childhood they have practiced riding by night on goats, pitchforks, or worn-out cloaks, and crossing huge stretches of land. No men from Germany are fit for it, but we do not turn down the dry bodies of Spaniards.