Hepburn’s Alphabets

A post at metafilter a few weeks back about the 17th-Century Jesuit savant Athanasius Kircher (1602-80) prompted me to order the book about him published last year: Athanasius Kircher: The Last Man Who Knew Everything; a collection of essays touching on various aspects of the prolific scholar’s life and work. One of the pieces therein, by Daniel Stolzenberg, describes Kircher’s presentation of the Kabbalah, the subject of an 150-page section in Oedipus Aegypticus, his 3-part treatise on the mysteries of Egyptian hieroglyphs (1652-5). Kircher’s idiosyncratic interpretation of the Kabbalah is summarised, writes Stolzenberg, in an elaborate diagram displaying the seventy-two names of God.

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Among the influences behind this diagram, Stolzenberg suggests, was a curious engraving published by a Scottish scholar named James Bonaventure Hepburn, in Rome, in 1616, ‘This broadside […] contains an engraving of the Virgin Mary inside a stylized, radiating sun, beneath which are displayed seventy-two alphabets, many of a fanciful or magical nature.’ The engraving was entitled Schema Septuaginta Duorum Idiomatum, sive Virga Aurea—quia Beata Virgo dicitur tot annis in vivis fuisse; et ille numerus discipulorum est Christi, et Romanae Ecclesiae cardinalium, et tot mysteria in nominee Dei (‘The Heavenly Golden Rod of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Seventy-two Praises’), or Virga Aurea for short.

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Besides Latin, and several varieties each of Greek, Hebrew and Arabic, Hepburn includes such alphabets as Etruscan, Assyrian, Armenian, Gothic, Scythian, Scottish, Hibernian, Coptic and Chaldaic, although with what degree of verisimilitude, I couldn’t say. There are also some impressively unconventional character-sets such as the Mystical, the Noachic, the Adamean, the Solomonic, the Mosaic, the Seraphic, the Angelical, and the Supercelestial… The present images show a selection of these alphabets, as cut from these images of the Virga Aurea I found at this French site.

Backup Copy

I had no pressing need to upgrade my Movable Type installation to version 3.2, but, at a loose end yesterday morning, did so anyway. Alas, it didn’t go as smoothly as it might have, and I now rather wish I hadn’t, as somehow many of the non-plain-ASCII characters in my archives have been garbled. I’ll work at fixing these, but it may take a while, so please bear with me. Also, I’d be very surprised if the comments work at all until I’ve done some further tinkering. Luckily, I have a recent backup copy of the site to work from, courtesy of the excellent Mr. Morrison & his number 2 pencil…

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A True Account of What Happen’d in the Kingdom of Sweden

Like John Wilkins (see the previous entry), Joseph Glanvill (1636-80) was both a clergyman, and an early Fellow of the Royal Society. Glanvill, indeed, wrote a treatise in which he defended the empirical methodology employed by the ‘new science:’ Plus Ultra, or the Progress and Advancement of Science since the time of Aristotle (1668). While his name is probably best-known today as the putative author of the epigraph to Poe’s Ligeia, Glanvill’s most widely-read work was a posthumous volume, edited by his friend Henry More, and first published in 1681, entitled Saducismus Triumphatus: or, Full and Plain Evidence Concerning Witches and Apparitions in Two Parts. The First treating of their Possibility; The Second of their Real Existence. In Glanvill’s view, there was no contradiction between his progressive philosophical outlook, and his unshakeable belief in the reality (and present danger) of supernatural phenomena.

In his Saducismus Triumphatus, Glanvill attaches great importance to first-hand testimonies of bewitchings & hauntings, and the book collects many such tales in support of his argument. Included as an Appendix thereunto is a hair-raising True Account of What Happen’d in the Kingdom of Sweden In the Years 1669, 1670, and upwards: In Relation to some Persons that were accused for Witches; and Tryed and Executed By the King’s Command, as translated from the ‘High-Dutch’ (German) by one Anthony Horneck. This ‘true account’ relates the story of the 1669 witch-trials held in the town of Mohra (Mora in present-day orthography), in the Swedish Dales (Dalarna, or, as the name of the area is sometimes anglicized, Dalecarlia). Reference is also made to similar trials the previous year in the neighbouring district of ‘Elf-dale’ (Älvdalen, mistranslated—see David Weman’s comment below).

In August of that year, News of this Witchcraft coming to the King’s Ear, commissioners were appointed, and dispatched to investigate the matter. The account omits to mention that the King (Karl XI), was thirteen years old at this time, so one would presume, rather, that this decision was made on his behalf. Interestingly, most of the alleged victims and the accusers in this case were children too, between the ages of four and sixteen… The substance of the charges were that several hundred children from the town had been ‘seduced’ by the Devil, assisted by the local witches, and spirited away to ‘Blockula’ (Blåkulla in modern Swedish), a legendary locale where the Devil was said to hold court on Earth. The commissioners found seventy of the adult townsfolk guilty, three and twenty of which freely confessing their Crimes, were condemned to dye; the rest […] were sent to Faluhna [Falun], where most of them were afterwards Executed. Fifteen children which likewise confessed that they were engaged in this Witchery, died as the rest.

On the bright and glorious day of the executions of the notoriously guilty (presumably the twenty-three who had previously confessed), those condemned were confronted by their juvenile accusers, in many cases their own children. The ‘witches’ were then asked to confirm the children’s accounts, which at first, most of them did very stifly, and without shedding the least Tear deny it. Later, however, some of them at length burst out into Tears, and their Confession agreed with what the Children had said, adding that the Devil had stopt the Mouths of some of them, and stopt the Ears of others. The customary means of execution for witchcraft in Sweden was yxa och bål, ‘axe and fire,’ i.e. beheading followed by burning of the body.

In the accounts of English witchcraft collected by Glanvill, the Devil is oftenest described as appearing in the guise of a man dressed all in black. The Swedish Devil, on the other hand, was for the most part in a gray Coat, and red and blue Stockings: He had a red Beard, a high-crown’d Hat, with Linnen of divers Colours, wrapt about it, and long Garters upon his Stockings. Blockula itself was described as a delicate large Meadow, whereof you can see no end which could be reached only by a magical journey. In the greater meadow was a gate, leading to a lesser meadow, distinct from the other, where there stood a house. In a huge Room of this House […] there stood a very long Table, at which the Witches did sit down: And […] hard by this Room was another Chamber, where there were very lovely and delicate Beds.

On first arriving at Blockula, witches were obliged to swear an oath, signed in blood, to devote themselves Body and Soul to the Devil. They were given food and drink, and there was dancing, (but also swearing, cursing and fighting). Afterwards, the Devil would go with them that he liked best, into a Chamber, where he committed venerous Acts with them: and this indeed all confessed, That he had carnal knowledge of them, and that the Devil had Sons and Daughters by them, which he did Marry together, and they did couple, and brought forth Toads and Serpents. This last detail is one that even Horneck, the account’s generally credulous translator, notes in his Preface as difficult to believe.

The worst of the Swedish witch-trials coincided with the latter part of the regency of Karl XI., after which time they declined in frequency and severity, until they ceased altogether in the mid 18th century. In England, too, the persecution of suspected witches was, mercifully, on the decline by the time Glanvill’s book came to be published, permitting it relatively little harmful influence, despite its great popularity (although it was cited in support of the famous Salem trial in 1692). The book is one small link in a larger chain of polemic that had been fiercely contended since the pioneering anti-witch-trial works by Johann Weyer and Reginald Scot appeared in 1563, and 1584 respectively. The images shown above, by the way, are from the frontispiece of Saducismus Triumphatus, and are the work of the engraver William Faithorne: click on them to see them enlarged.

The Discovery of a World in the Moone

In 1638, thirty years before the publication of his magnum opus An Essay towards a Real Character and a Philosophical Language, and his ordination as Bishop of Chester, the twenty-four year-old John Wilkins wrote a brief, speculative volume entitled The Discovery of a World in the Moone, or, a Discourse Tending to Prove, that ’tis probable there may be another habitable World in that Planet. The book comprises ‘proofs’ of thirteen propositions, the first of which somewhat hesitantly contends that the strangenesse of this opinion is no sufficient reason why it should be rejected…. In it, Wilkins writes I must needs confesse, though I had often thought with my selfe that it was possible there might be a world in the Moone, yet it seemed such an uncouth opinion that I never durst discover it, for feare of being counted singular and ridiculous…

He continues by stating that he had found many of his thoughts confirmed rather than confounded by his subsequent readings of such authors as Plutarch, Galileo and Kepler (or, as he styles the latter pair, Galilæus and Keplar). Even so, one never senses that Wilkins felt his theory was much more than well-informed speculation. Given the blustery religious crosswinds prevalent in his day, Wilkins treads carefully when claiming, in his second chapter that a plurality of worlds doth not contradict any principle of reason or faith. In a refutation therein of some Aristotelian tenets, he writes, in a phrase anticpating a famous line of Newton’s, But yet it were a shame for these later ages to rest our selves meerely upon the labours of our Fore-fathers, as if they had informed us of all things to be knowne, and when we are set upon their shoulders, not to see further then they themselves did.

Some of Wilkins’s propositions have been proven true with time: That the Moone is a solid, compacted, opacous body; That the Moone hath not any light of her owne; That there are high Mountaines, deepe vallies, and spacious plaines in the body of the Moone. His explanation of the heliocentric solar system—an idea which he considers likely enough to be true—inspires his pithiest argument: Now if our earth were one of the Planets […] then why may not another of the Planets be an earth? In other respects, alas, his propositions are wide of the mark: That those spots and brighter parts […] in the Moone, doe shew the difference betwixt the Sea and Land in that other World; The spots represent the Sea, and the brighter parts the Land; That there is an Atmo-sphæra, or an orbe of grosse vaporous aire, immediately encompassing the body of the Moone. And, as his final proposition, Wilkins claims that ’tis probable there may be inhabitants in this other World, but of what kinde they are is uncertaine.

Wilkins stops short of speculating on the nature of any conjectural ‘Selenites.’ The book closes with a poignant appeal to posterity:

So, perhaps, there may be some other meanes invented for a conveyance to the Moone, and though it may seeme a terrible and impossible thing ever to passe through the vaste spaces of the aire, yet no question there would be some men who durst venture this […] True indeed, I cannot conceive any possible meanes for the like discovery of this conjecture, since there can be no sailing to the Moone […] We have not now any Drake or Columbus to undertake this voyage, or any Dadalus to invent a conveyance through the aire.

However, I doubt not but that that time who is still the father of new truths, and hath revealed unto us many things of which our Ancestours were ignorant of, will also manifest to our posterity, that which wee now desire, but cannot know. […] Arts are not yet come to their Solstice, but the industry of future times assisted with the labours of their forefathers, may reach unto that height wee could not attaine to […] Keplar doubts not, but that as soone as the art of flying is found out, some of their Nation will make one of the first colonies that shall inhabit that other world.

My source for the quotes, and the images above is a reprint edition of The Discovery of a World in the Moone issued by G. Olms Verlag in 1981. Click on the images to see them enlarged, and in full. For a previous Giornale entry about Wilkins, click here.

Cows, Trees, Rain, a Running Dog, etc.

We spent our vacation this year at a lovely 18th-century farmhouse on a hillside in the southernmost part of the Swedish province of Halland, roughly 10km east of the seaside town of Båstad, and about as far south of the town of Laholm. The slopes around the house were home to a herd of dairy cattle…

A stream ran down the hillside between the house and an adjacent barn, & its burbling was audible from the window of the guest bedroom on its west side. North of the house there was a quiet grove of mature trees several acres in extent: nearest the dirt-road in front of the house, thickets impeded ones way, but, after struggling through for a minute or so, one gained entry into a beautiful wood, with open, spongy, leaf-littered ground between the trees.

We were joined there after a couple of days by my mother-in-law, and her travelling companion. In the second week, our good friends Mr T_____ and his girlfriend, came to stay with us for four days. Alas, it rained a lot while we we there, almost every day, and for the last three or four days the rain hardly stopped… If we’d had better weather, I would have taken more photographs—as it was, I succeeded in taking about four clear pictures the whole time we were there.

Still, I got some reading done, and finished five books during the two weeks. We watched DVDs, and played poker and roulette. We did brave the weather occasionally, to visit Lugnarohögen, a bronze-age burial-mound nearby, or to check out the splendid beach at Mellbystrand, whose miles of golden sand could be found all but deserted on a wet evening; or to go shopping in Båstad, or Ängelholm.

Of us all, our dog probably enjoyed himself the most, and seemed saddest of us to leave the old farmhouse behind. Upon his return to apartment-living after his two weeks in the country, he sulked and moped for a full day before recovering his usual happy-go-lucky demeanour.

Bracelli

I’ve mentioned Giovanni Battista Bracelli’s book Bizzarie di Varie Figure before. It was originally published in Livorno, in 1624. One would assume the book was not a success, as it exerted no influence, and attracted very little notice until its rediscovery in Paris ca. 1950. Its rediscoverer, Alain Brieux, published a limited facsimile edition of the book in 1963, with a preface by Tristan Tzara.

Despite the rarity and costliness of this edition, I had considered ordering a copy of it, until I discovered that there was another book on Bracelli, written by the art-historian Maxime Préaud, and published by Chêne, Paris, in 1975, which reproduced not only the Bizzarie, but also the remainder of the artist’s known œuvre. Some months passed before I could locate a copy of this volume—at a bookseller in Utrecht—and, on our return from vacation Friday night, it was here waiting for me.

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On the title-page of the Bizzarie, Bracelli (or, as he spells it there, Braccelli), styles himself as a pittore fiorentino, a Florentine painter. He dedicated his book to Pietro de’ Medici, who governed Livorno between 1629 and 1635. The book (of which only two complete copies are known), comprises forty-seven engravings, most of which depict a pair of stylised figures, formed variously of boxes, chains, rags, pots, pans, twigs, drums, bells, etc., etc.

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Bracelli also published a second collection of prints entitled Figure Con Instrumenti Musicali E Boscarecci ‘Figures with Musical and Rustic(?) Instruments.’ This comprised twenty-one engravings, again featuring pairs of figures, albeit this time conventional ones, shown holding or playing various types of music-making equipment.

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In addition to these two series, Préaud presents six individual engravings by Bracelli. For me, the most interesting of these is the Alfabeto Figurato, below, which I have briefly mentioned before. The remaining prints depict, respectively, Bernini’s Baldacchino in St. Peter’s Basilica; a statue of St. Longinus; a statue of St. Veronica; an elaborate historical scene showing Attila’s arrival at the gates of Rome; and a classically-inspired Bacchanalian scene.

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