Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 32, June, 1860

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"Aut si ultra placitum laudant, baccare frontem
Cingite, ne vati noceat mala lingua futuro."

[Footnote 1: Hier. Fracastorius, _De Sympathia et Antipathia_,
Lib. i. cap. 23. See also Vincentius Alsarius, _De Invid. et Fasc. Vet._,
in Graevius, _Thes. Rom. Antiq._ Vol. xii. p. 890.]

[Footnote 2: Lib. iii. cap. 46, confirmed also by Athenaeus, _Deipnos_.
Lib. iii.]

Tertullian, in his work "De Virginibus Velandis," states the same fact as
Fracastorius, and says that among the heathens there are persons who are
possessed of a terrible somewhat which they call _Fascinum_, effected by
excessive praise: _"Nam est aliquod etiam apud Ethnicos metuendum, quod
Fascinum vocant, infeliciorem laudis et gloriae enormioris eventum_."

To avert this evil influence, every well-mannered person among the ancients
said, "_Proefiscine_," before wishing well to another,--as clearly appears
from the following passage cited by Charisius [Footnote: _Inst. Gram._
Lib. iv.] from Titinius in "Setina." One person exclaims, "_Paula mea,
amabo----_" Whereupon a friend who stands by says, "He was going to praise
Paula!" "_Ecce qui loquitur, Paulam puellam laudare parabat!_" And another
friend present cries out, "By Pollux! you should better say,
'_Proefiscini_,' or you may fascinate her": "_Pol! tu in laudem addito
Proefiscini, ne puella fascinaretur_." [Footnote: See also Turnebi
_Comm. in Orat. Sec. contra P.S. Rullum de Leg. Agrar._ M.T. Ciceronis.]
This same custom exists at the present day among the Turks, who always
accompany a compliment to you or to anything belonging to you with the
phrase, _"Mashallah!"_ (God be praised!)--thus referring the good gifts you
possess to the Higher Spirit. To omit this is a breach of courtesy, and in
such case the other person instantly adds it in order to avert fascination;
for the superstition is, that, if this phrase be omitted, we may seem to
refer all good gifts to our own merit instead of God's grace, and so
provoke the divine wrath. The same custom also exists in Italy; and the
common reply to any salutation in which your looks or health may be
complimented is, "_Grazia a Dio!_" In some parts of Italy, if you praise a
pretty child in the street, or even if you look earnestly at it, the nurse
will be sure to say, "_Dio la benedica!_" so as to cut off all ill-luck;
and if you happen to be walking with a child and catch any person watching
it, such person will invariably employ some such phrase to show you that he
does not mean to do it injury, or to cast a spell of _jettatura_ upon
it. The modern Greeks are even more jealous of praise, and if you
compliment a child of theirs, you are expected to spit three times at him
and say, [Greek: Na maen baskanthaes], ("May no evil come to you!") or
mutter [Greek: Skordo], ("Garlic,") which has a special power as a
counter-charm. So, too, in Corsica, the peasants are strict believers in
the _jettatura_ of praise, which they call _l'annocchiatura_,--supposing,
that, if any evil influence attend you, your good wishes will turn into
curses. They are therefore very careful in praising, and sometimes express
themselves in language the very reverse of what they intend,--as, "'_Va,
coquine!'_ says Bandalaccio, in M. Merimee's pleasant story of "Colomba,"
'_sois excommuniee, sois maudite, friponne!' Car Bandalaccio, superstitieux
comme tous les bandits, craignait de fasciner les enfans en les addressant
les benedictions et les eloges. On sait que les puissances mysterieuses qui
president a l'annocchiatura ont la mauvaise habitude d'executer le
contraire de nos souhaits._" Perhaps our familiar habit of calling our
children "scamp" and "rascal," when we are caressing them, may be founded
on a worn-out superstition of the same kind.

But it is not only praise administered by others which may inflict evil
upon us,--we must also be specially careful not to have too "gude a conceit
of ourselves," lest we thereby draw down upon us the fate of a certain
Eutelidas, who, having regarded his image in the water with peculiar
self-satisfaction and laudation, immediately lost his health, and from that
time forward was afflicted with sore diseases. During a supper at the house
of Metrius Florus, where, among others, Plutarch, Soclarus, and Caius, the
son-in-law of Florus, were guests, a curious and interesting conversation
took place on the subject of the _Fascinum_, which is reported by Plutarch
in one of his Symposia. The existence of the power of fascination was
admitted by all, and a philosophical explanation of its phenomena was
attempted. In reply to some suggestions of Plutarch, Soclarus says there is
no doubt that their ancestors fully believed in this power, and then cites
the case of Eutelidas as being well known to his auditors, and celebrated
by some poet in these lines:--

"Eutelidas was once a beauteous youth,
But, luckless, in the wave his face beholding,
Himself he fascinates, and pines away." [1]

[Footnote 1: Plutarchi _Symp_. V. Prob. VII.]

Fascination was excited by touch, voice, and look. The fascination by touch
was simply mesmerism, or rather the biology of the present day, in an
undeveloped stage. There were said to be four qualities of
touch,--_calidus, humidus, frigidus, et siccus_, or hot, cold, moist, and
dry,--according to which persons were active or passive in the exercise of
the fascinum. Its function was double, by raising or by lowering the
arm,--"_modo per arteriae elevationem, modo per ejusdem submissionem_" says
the worthy Vairits; "for," he continues, "when the artery is thrown out and
is open, the spirits are emitted with wonderful celerity, and in some
imperceptible manner are carried to the thing to fascinate it. And because
the artery has its origin in the heart, the spirits issuing thence retain
its infected and vitiated nature, and according to its depravity fascinate
and destroy."

This power of touch is recognized in all history and in all climes. All who
saw Christ desired to touch his garment, and so receive some healing
virtue; and his miracles of cure he almost always performed by his
hand. When the woman who had the issue of blood came behind him and touched
him, Jesus asked who touched him, and said,--"Somebody hath touched me; for
I perceive that virtue is gone out of me." It has always been a popular
superstition that the scrofula could be cured by the touch of a king or of
the seventh son of a seventh son. The old belief that the body of a
murdered man would distill blood, if his murderer's hand were placed on
him, is also of the same class.

Descending to the sphere of animals, we find some curious facts having
relation to this power. The electrical eel, for instance, has the faculty
of overcoming and numbing his prey by this means. And among the Arabs,
according to Gerard, the French lion-killer, whoever inhales the breath of
the lion goes mad.

Dr. Livingstone, in his interesting travels in South Africa, makes a
curious statement bearing upon this subject. He was out shooting lions one
day, when, "after having shot once, just," he says, "as I was in the act of
ramming down the bullets, I heard a shout. Starting and looking half round,
I saw the lion just in the act of springing upon me. I was upon a little
height; he caught my shoulder as he sprang, and we both came to the ground
below together. Growling horribly close to my ear, he shook me as a
terrier-dog does a rat. The shock produced a stupor similar to that which
seems to be felt by a mouse after the first shake of the cat. It caused a
sort of dreaminess, in which there was no sense of pain nor feeling of
terror, though quite conscious of all that was happening. It was like what
patients partially under the influence of chloroform describe, who see all
the operation, but feel not the knife. This singular condition was not the
result of any mental process. The shake annihilated fear, and allowed no
sense of horror in looking round at the beast. This peculiar state is
probably produced in all animals killed by the _carnivora_, and, if so, is
a merciful provision by our benevolent Creator for lessening the pain of
death."

The next method of fascination was by the Voice. Aristotle speaks of it as
the cause of fascination, and says that the mere sound of the fascinator's
voice has this wondrous power, independently of his good or ill will, as
well as of the words he uses. And Alexander Aphrodisiensis calls the
fascinators poisoners, who poison their victim by intently looking at him
_carmine prolato_, "with a measured song or cadence." The same peculiarity
is observable in all experiments with the moving tables or rapping spirits,
which are more successful when accompanied by constant music. Circe
fascinated with incantation; and the Psalmist alludes to it as a means of
charming. Serpents, as well as men, are thus charmed. Virgil says, that, if
to this incantation by words certain herbs are joined, the fascination
works with more terrible effect:--

"Pocula si quando saevae infecere novercae,
Miscueruntque herbas et non irmoxia verba,
Auxilium venit, ac membris agit atra venena."

It is related of a certain magician, that, when he whispered in the ear of
a bull, he could prostrate him to the earth as if he were dead; [Footnote:
Vairus, _De Fascino_. p. 24.] and in our own time we have had an example
of the same wonderful faculty in Sullivan, the famous horse-whisperer,
whose secret died with him, or, at least, never was made public. Pliny also
relates, that tigers are rendered so furious by the sound of the drum, that
they often end by tearing themselves limb from limb in their rage; but I am
afraid this is one of Pliny's stories. Plutarch, however, agrees with him
in this belief.[Footnote: Plut. _Praecepta Conjugialia_.]

And next as to the Evil Eye ([Greek: ophthalmos baskanos]). From the
earliest ages of the world, the potency of the eye in fascination has been
recognized. "Nihil oculo nequius creatum" says the Preacher; and the
philosopher calls it alter animus, "another spirit." "It sends forth its
rays," says Vairus, "like spears and arrows, to charm the hearts of men":
"veluti jacula et sagittae ad effascinandorum corda." And it carries
disease and death, as well as love and delight, in its course: "Totumque
corpus inficiunt, atque ita (nulla interposita mora) arbores, segetes,
bruta animalia et homines perniciosa qualitate inficiunt et ad interitum
deducunt." Vairus relates that a friend of his saw a fascinator simply with
a look break in two a precious gem while in the hands of the artist who was
working upon it. Horace thua alludes to it:--

"Non isthic obliquo oculo mea commoda quisquam
Limat; non odio obscuro morsuque venenat."

Among the diseases given by a glance are ophthalmia and jaundice, say the
ancients; and in these cases, the fascinator loses the disease as his
victim takes it A similar peculiarity is to be remarked in the superstition
of the basilisk, who kills, if he sees first, but when he is seen first,
dies. No animals, it is said, can bear the steady gaze of man, and there
are some persons who by this means seem to exercise a wonderful power over
them. Animals, however, have sometimes their revenge on man. It is an old
superstition, that he whom the wolf sees first loses his voice. Among
themselves, also, they use this power of charming,--as in the case of the
serpent, who thus attracts the bird, and of the toad, the "jewels in whose
head" have a like magical influence. Dr. Andrew Smith, in his excellent
work on "Reptilia," gives the following interesting account of the power of
the serpent, and of other animals, to fascinate their prey. Speaking of the
_Bucephalus Capetisis_, he says,--

"It is generally found upon trees, to which it resorts for the purpose of
catching birds, on which it delights to feed. The presence of a specimen in
a tree is generally soon discovered by the birds of the neighborhood, who
collect round it and fly to and fro, uttering the most piercing cries,
until some one, more terror-struck than the rest, actually scans its lips,
and, almost without resistance, becomes a meal for its enemy. During such a
proceeding, the snake is generally observed with its head raised about ten
or twelve inches above the branch round which its body and tail are
entwined, with its mouth open and its neck inflated, as if anxiously
endeavoring to increase the terror, which it would almost appear it was
aware would sooner or later bring within its grasp some one of the
feathered group.

"Whatever may be said in ridicule of fascination, it is nevertheless true
that birds, and even quadrupeds, are, under certain circumstances, unable
to retire from the presence of certain of their enemies, and, what is even
more extraordinary, unable to resist the propensity to advance from a
situation of actual safety into one of the most imminent danger. This I
have often seen exemplified in the case of birds and snakes; and I have
heard of instances equally curious, in which antelopes and other quadrupeds
have been so bewildered by the sudden appearance of crocodiles, and by the
grimaces and distortions they practised, as to be unable to fly or even
move from the spot towards which they were approaching to seize them."

The fascination which fire and flame exercise upon certain insects is well
known, and the beautiful moths which so painfully insist on sacrificing
themselves in our candle are the commonplaces of poets and lovers. They are
generally supposed to be attracted by the light and ignorantly to rush to
their destruction; but this simple explanation does not fully account for
all the facts. Dr. Livingstone says, that "fire exercises a fascinating
effect upon some kinds of toads. They may be seen rushing into it in the
evenings, without even starting back on feeling pain. Contact with the hot
embers rather increases the energy with which they strive to gain the
hottest parts, and they never cease their struggles for the centre even
when their juices are coagulating and their limbs stiffening in the
roasting heat. Various insects also are thus fascinated; but the scorpions
may be seen coming away from the fire in fierce disgust, and they are so
irritated as to inflict at that time their most painful stings."

May it not be that flame exercises upon certain insects and animals an
influence similar to that produced upon man by the moon, rendering them mad
when subjected too long to its influence? Is not the moon the Evil Eye of
the night?

A curious story, bearing upon this subject, is told in one of a series of
interesting articles in "Household Words," called "Wanderings in India."
The author is talking with an old soldier about a cobra-capello, which has
been known to the latter for thirteen years.

"This cobra," says the soldier, "has never offered to do me any harm; and
when I sing, as I sometimes do when I am alone here at work on some tomb or
other, he will crawl up and listen for two or three hours together. One
morning, while he was listening, he came in for a good meal, which lasted
him some days."

"How was that?"

"I will tell you, Sir. A minar was chased by a small hawk, and, in despair,
came and perched itself on the top of a most lofty tomb at which I was at
work. The hawk, with his eyes fixed intently on his prey, did not, I fancy,
see the snake lying motionless in the grass; or, if he did see him, he did
not think he was a snake, but something else,--my crowbar, perhaps. After a
little while, the hawk pounced down, and was just about to give the minar a
blow and a grip, when the snake suddenly lifted his head, raised his hood,
and hissed. The hawk gave a shriek, fluttered, flapped his wings with all
his might, and tried very hard to fly away. But it would not do. Strong as
the eye of the hawk was, the eye of the snake was stronger. The hawk, for a
time, seemed suspended in the air; but at last he was obliged to come down
and sit opposite the old gentleman, (the snake,) who commenced with his
forked tongue, and keeping his eyes on him all the while, to slime his
victim all over. This occupied him for at least forty minutes, and by the
time the process was over the hawk was perfectly motionless. I don't think
he was dead,--but he was very soon, however, for the old gentleman put him
into a coil or two and crackled up every bone in the hawk's body. He then
gave him another sliming, made a big mouth, distended his neck till it was
as big round as the thickest part of my arm, and down went the hawk like a
shin of beef into a beggar-man's bag." [Footnote: _Household Words_,
Jan. 23, 1858, vol. xvii., P. 139.]

The same writer, in another paper, relates a case in which he was cured of
a violent attack of _tic-douloureux_, from which he "suffered extreme
agonies," by the steady gaze of a native doctor, who was called in for the
purpose. He used no other method than a fixed, steady gaze, making no
mesmeric passes; and in this way he cured his patients by "locking up their
eyes," as he termed it. His power seemed to have been very great; and what
is curious is, that, "with one exception, and that was in the case of a
Keranu, a half-caste, no patient had ever fallen asleep or had become
'_beehosh_' (unconscious) under his gaze." He related several cases, one of
which was of "a sahib who had gone mad," drink-delirious. "His wife would
not suffer him to be strapped down, and he was so violent that it took four
or five other sahibs to hold him. I was sent for, and at first had great
difficulty with him, and much trembling. At last, however, I locked his
eyes up as soon as I got him to look at me, and kept him, for several
hours, as quiet as a mouse. I stayed with him two days, and whatever I told
him to do he did immediately. When I got his eyes fixed on mine, he could
not take them away,--could not move."

All these different kinds of fascination have now become united together
and go under the general name of _Jettatura_, in Italy, though the eye is
considered as the most potent and terrible charmer. The superstition is
universal, and pervades all modes of thought among the ignorant classes,
but its sanctuary is Naples. There it is as much a matter of faith as the
Madonna and San Gennaro. Every coral-shop is filled with amulets, and
everybody wears a counter-charm,--ladies on their arms, gentlemen on their
watch-chains, lazzaroni on their necks. If you are going to Italy,--and as
all the world now goes to Italy, you will join the endless caravan, of
course,--it becomes a matter of no small importance for you to know the
signs by which you may recognize the fascinator, and the means by which you
may avert his evil influence; for, should you fall in his way and be
unprotected, direful, indeed, might be the consequences. Sudden disease,
like a pestilence at mid-day, might seize you, and on those lovely shores
you might pine away and die. Dreadful accidents might overwhelm you and
bury all your happiness forever. Therefore be wise in time.

"Women," says Vairus, "have more power to fascinate than men"; but the
reason he gives will not, I fear, recommend itself to the sex,--for the
worthy _padre_ feared women as devils. According to him, their evil
influence results from their unbridled passions: "_Quia irascendi et
concupiscendi animi vim adeo effrenatam habent, ut nullo modo ab ira et
cupiditate sese temperare valeant_." (Certainly, he _is_ a wretch.) But it
will be some consolation to know that the young and beautiful have far less
power for evil than "little old women," (_aniculas_,) and for these you
must specially look out. But most of all to be dreaded, male or female, are
those who are lean and melancholy by temperament, ("lean and hungry
Cassiuses,") and who have double pupils in their eyes, or in one eye a
double pupil and in the other the figure of a horse. Perhaps Mr. Squeers
and all of his kind come within this class, as having more than one pupil
always in their eye,--but, specially, this rule would seem to warn us
against jockey schoolmasters, with a horse in one eye and several pupils in
the other. Those, too, are dangerous, according to Didymus, who have
hollow, pit-like eyes, sunken under concave orbits, with great projecting
eyebrows,--as well as those who emit a disagreeable odor from their
armpits, (_con rispetto_,) and are remarkable for a general squalor of
complexion and appearance. Persons also are greatly to be suspected who
squint, or have sea-green, shining, terrible eyes. "One of these," says
Didymus, "I knew,--a certain Spaniard, whose name it is not permitted me to
mention,--who, with black and angry countenance and truculent eyes, having
reprimanded his servant for something or other, the latter was so overcome
by fear and terror, that he was not only affected with fascination, but
even deprived of his reason, and a melancholic humor attacking his whole
body, he became utterly insane, and, in the very house of his master, next
the Church of St. James, committed suicide, by hanging himself with a
rope." [Footnote: The passage from Didymus is this: "Macilenti et
melancholici, qui binas pupillas in oculis habent, aut in uno oculo geminam
pupillam, in altero effigiem equi,--quique oculos concavos ac veluti
quibusdam quasi foveis reconditos gerunt, exhaustoque adeo universo humore
ut ossa,--quibus palpebrae coherent, eminere, hirquique sordibus scatere
cernuntur,--quibus in tota cute quae faciem obducit squallor et situs
immoderatus conspicitur, facillime fascinant. Strabones, glaucos, micantes
et terribiles oculos habentes quaecumque et iratis oculis aspiciunt fascino
inficiunt. Et _ego_ hisce oculis Romae quondam Hispanum genere vidi, quem
nominare non licet, qui cum truculentis oculis tetro et irato vultu servum
ob nescio quod objurgasset, adeo servus ille timore ac terrore perterritus
fuit, ut non modo fascino affectus, sed rationis usu privatus fuerit, et
melancholico humore totum ejus corpus invadente, ita ad insaniam redactus
fuit, ut in domo sui heri prope ecclesiam Divi Jacobi sibi mortem
consciverit et laqueo vitam finiverit."]

_Moral_.--If you ever meet with such an agreeable person as this Spaniard
appears to have been,--look out!

In this connection, the reader will recall the similar power of Vathek, in
Beckford's romance, who killed with his eye,--and the story of Racine, whom
a look of Louis XIV. sent to his grave.

The famous Albertus Magnus, master of medicine and magic, devotes a long
chapter to the subject of eyes, giving us, at length, descriptions of those
which we may trust and those which we must fear, some of them terrible and
vigorous enough. From among them I select the following:--"Those who have
hollow eyes are noted for evil; and the larger and moister they are, the
more they indicate envy. The same eyes, when dry, show the possessors to be
faithless, traitorous, and sacrilegious; and if these eyes are also yellow
and cold, they argue insanity. For hollow eyes are the sign of craft and
malignity; and if they are wanting in darkness, they also show
foolishness. But if the eyes are too hollow, and of medium size, dry and
rigid,--if, besides this, they have broad, overhanging eyebrows, and livid
and pallid circles round them, they indicate impudence and malignity."
[Footnote: Albertus Magnus, _De Anima_.] If this be not enough to enable
you, O my reader, to recognise the Evil Eye at sight, let me refer you to
the whole chapter, where you will find ample and very curious rules laid
down, showing a singular acuteness of observation.

Things have, indeed, somewhat changed since the days of Didymus, in this
respect, that men are now thought to be more potent for evil _jettatura_
than women; but his general views still coincide with those entertained at
the present time in Italy. Ever since the establishment, or rather
decadence, of the Church in the Middle Ages, monks have been considered as
peculiarly open to suspicion of possessing the Evil Eye. As long ago as the
ninth century, in the year 842, Erchempert, a _frate_ of the celebrated
convent of Monte Cassino, writes,--"I knew formerly Messer Landulf, Bishop
of Capua, a man of singular prudence, who was wont to say, 'Whenever I meet
a monk, something unlucky always happens to me during the day.'" And to
this day, there are many persons, who, if they meet a monk or priest, on
first going out in the morning, will not proceed upon their errand or
business until they have returned to their house and waited awhile. In Rome
there are certain persons who are noted for this evil power, and marked and
avoided in consequence. One of them is a most pleasant and handsome man,
attached to the Church, and yet, by odd coincidence, wherever he goes, he
carries ill-luck. If he go to a party, the ices do not arrive, the music is
late, the lamps go out, a storm comes on, the waiter smashes his tray of
refreshments,--something or other is sure to happen. "_Sentite_," said some
one the other day to me. "Yesterday, I was looking out of my window, when
I saw ---- coming along. 'Phew!' said I, making the sign of the cross and
pointing both fingers, 'what ill-luck will happen now to some poor devil
that does not see him?' I watched him all down the street, however, and
nothing occurred; but this morning I hear, that, after turning the corner,
he spoke to a poor little boy, who was up in a tree gathering some fruit,
and no sooner was out of sight than smash! down fell the boy and broke his
arm." Even the Pope himself has the reputation of possessing the Evil Eye
to some extent. Ask a Roman how this is, and he will answer, as one did to
me the other day,--"_Si dice, e per me veramente mi pare di si_": "They say
so; and as for me, really it seems to me true. If he have not the
_jettatura_, it is very odd that everything he blesses makes _fiasco_. We
all did very well in the campaign of '48 against the Austrians. We were
winning battle after battle, and all was gayety and hope, when suddenly he
blesses the cause, and everything goes to the Devil at once. Nothing
succeeds with anybody or anything when he wishes well to them. See, here
the other day he went to Santa Agnese to have a great festival, and down
goes the floor, and the people are all smashed together. Then he visits the
column to the Madonna in the Piazza di Spagna, and blesses it and the
workmen, and of course one falls from the scaffolding the same day and
kills himself. A week or two ago he arranged to meet the King of Naples at
Porto d'Anzo, and up comes a violent storm and gale that lasts a week;
then another arrangement was made, and then the fracas about the ex-queen
of Spain. Then, again, here was Lord O----- came in the other day from
Albano, being rather unwell; so the Pope sends him his special blessing,
when pop! he dies right off in a twinkling. There is nothing so fatal as
his blessing. We were a great deal better off under Gregory, before he
blessed us. Now, if he hasn't the _jettatura_, what is it that makes
everything turn out at cross purposes with him? For my part, I don't wonder
the workmen at the Column refused to work the other day in raising it,
unless the Pope stayed away."

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