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ΟΙ ΒΡΥΚΟΛΑΚΕΣ ΤΟΥ ΜΕΣΑΙΩΝΟΣ
ΚΑΤΑ τὴν χιλιετῆ περίπου κυοφορίαν τοῦ νεωτέρου πολιτισμοῦ, ἣν ὀνομάζομεν μεσαιῶνα, αἱ ἀνεξήγητοι τῆς φύσεως λειτουργίαι, τὰ καὶ σήμερον ἀκόμη σκοτεινὰ φαινόμενα τοῦ ἠλεκτρικοῦ ῥευστοῦ καὶ τοῦ μαγνήτου, πρὸ πάντων δέ, τὰ ἕνεκα τῆς κακοπαθείας καὶ τῆς μοναστικῆς ἀργίας ἐπιπολάζοντα νοσήματα τῶν νεύρων καὶ τοῦ ἐγκεφάλου ἐπλήθυναν παρὰ ταῖς τότε ἀνθρώποις τὴν ὑπὸ ποικίλα ὀνόματα ἐπιφοίτησιν παντοίων δῆθεν ὑπερφυσικῶν ὄντων. Τὰ ἀόριστα σχήματα, ἅτινα τὸ βλέμμα τοῦ ἐκστατικοῦ ἐδίωκε μεταξὺ τῶν νεφῶν, ὠνομάσθησαν συλφίδες, οἱ ἐκ τῆς φλογὸς ἀναπηδῶντες σπινθῆρες ἢ αἱ ὑπεράνω τοῦ ἕλους πλανώμεναι λάμψεις σαλαμάνδραι, αἱ ἀναθυμιάσεις τῶν πεδιάδων μετὰ τὴν βροχὴν χθονοδαίμονες (gnomes) καὶ οὕτω καθεξῆς. Ταῦτα ἦσαν ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ κληροδοτήματα τῆς πρὶν πολυθεΐας, χαρίεντα πλάσματα τῆς ἡβώσης τῶν ἀρχαίων φαντασίαις, ἄτινα ἠσπάζετο μειδιῶν καὶ αὐτὸς ὁ Σωκράτης, ἀνάξιον νομίζων φιλοσόφου νὰ πολεμήσῃ αὐτὰ διὰ σχολαστικῆς τινος καὶ ἀγροίκου, ὡς ἔλεγε, σοφίας. Ἀλλ’ οἱ ἱεροκράται ἐφάνησαν ἧττον ἐπιεικεῖς τοῦ Ἕλληνος φιλοσόφου πρὸς τὰς δημώδεις προλήψεις. Τὰς ἀθῴας τῶν δυνάμεων τῆς φύσεως προσωποποιήσεις μετεμόρφωσαν εἰς πραγματικοὺς κερατοφόρους δαίμονας· τοὺς δὲ κατεχομένους δῆθεν ὑπ’ αὐτῶν κατεδίωξαν δι’ ἀναθεμάτων, πυρὸς καὶ σιδήρου. Ἡ ἀγρία αὕτη καταδρομὴ ἔδωκε πλείονα ὑπόστασιν εἰς τὰ ὀνείρατα ταῦτα· τὰ δὲ χειροήθη τῶν ἀρχαίων φαντάσματα, προικισθέντα ὑπὸ τῆς Ἐκκλησίας δι’ ἀγνώστου πρότερον πρὸς τὸ κακοποιεῖν δυνάμεως, ἐπέχυσαν τὴν κατήφειαν καὶ τὸν τρόμον ἐφ’ ὅλον τὸν μεσαιῶνα. Ὁ ὀρθὸς λόγος εἶχε τότε κατακλιθῆ, ἡ κριτικὴ ἐκοιμᾶτο ὕπνον βαθύν· τῆς δὲ ἐπιστήμης ἡ γλῶσσα ἦτο μέχρι ῥίζης ἀποκεκομμένη. Παράδοξός τις σύγχυσις τῶν διανοητικῶν δυνάμεων καὶ διηνεκὴς τοῦ νευρικοῦ συστήματος ἐρεθισμὸς καθίστων τοὺς τότε ἀνθρώπους δειλούς, ἀνησύχους καὶ εὐπίστους ὡς παιδία. Ἀλλὰ καὶ οἱ νεκροὶ αὐτοὶ, καταληφθέντες ὑπὸ τῆς ἐπιδημικῆς ταύτης ἀνησυχίας, δὲν ἠδύναντο νὰ ἡσυχάσωσιν ἐν τῷ τάφῳ· παράπονα καὶ στεναγμοὶ ἀντήχουν τὴν νύκτα ἐν τοῖς κοιμητηρίοις· τὰς δὲ νεκρικὰς σινδόνας ἐκηλίδουν πολλάκις θερμοῦ αἵματος σταγόνες. Οὐδείς ἐστοχάσθη τότε ν’ ἀποδώσῃ τὰ φαινόμενα ταῦτα εἰς προώρους ἐνταφιάσεις νεκροφανῶν· ἀλλ’ εἰς τὸν φόβον τῶν δαιμόνων προσετέθη καὶ ὁ τρόμος τῶν βρυκολάκων. Τὴν τελευταίαν ταύτην δεισιδαιμονίαν συγγραφεῖς τινες ἀντὶ ν’ ἀποδώσωσιν εἰς τὴν ἀμάθειαν τῶν τότε ἀνθρώπων, ὑποθαλπομένην ὑπὸ τῆς ἀπληστίας τοῦ κλήρου, ἀπέδωκαν εἰς αὐτὸ τὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ χριστιανισμοῦ, τὸ διδάσκον τὴν καὶ πέρα τοῦ τάφου παράτασιν τῆς ζωῆς. Ἀλλ’ ἡ μορφὴ αὕτη, εἰς τοιοῦτον σφενδονιζομένη ὕψος, πίπτει ἀφ’ ἑαυτῆς. Τὸ δόγμα τῆς ἀθανασίας ἦτο προγενέστερον τοῦ χριστιανισμοῦ· τὰ δὲ φάσματα, ἡ νεκρομαντεία καὶ τῶν ψυχῶν αἱ δραπετεύσεις, καὶ παρὰ τοῖς λαοῖς τῆς Ἀνατολῆς καὶ παρ’ Ἕλλησι καὶ ἐν τῇ Σκανδιναυϊκῇ μυθολογίᾳ ἀπαντῶνται. Τὰς δεισιδαιμονίας ὅμως ταύτας οὐ μόνον δὲν ὑποστηρίζει, ἀλλὰ καὶ διὰ σαφῶν χωρίων φαίνεται ἀποδοκιμάζον τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον. Οὕτως ὁ Ἅγιος Λουκᾶς παριστᾷ τὸν Ἀβραὰμ λέγοντα τῷ κακῷ πλουσίῳ, ὅστις ἐζήτει τήν ἀποστολὴν τοῦ νεκροῦ τοῦ Λαζάρου εἰς τὸν κόσμον πρὸς ἀποτροπὴν τῶν πέντε ἀδελφῶν του ἀπὸ τῆς ὁδοῦ τῆς ἀπωλείας: «Ἐπὶ πᾶσι τούτοις μεταξὺ ἡμῶν καὶ ὑμῶν χάσμα μέγα ἐστήρικται, ὅπως οἱ θέλοντες διαβῆναι ἐντεῦθεν πρὸς ὑμᾶς μὴ δύνωνται, μηδὲ οἱ ἐκεῖθεν πρὸς ἡμᾶς διαπερῶσιν». [Κατὰ Λουκᾶν ις′. 26.] Ὅπερ σημαίνει, ἂν δὲν ἀπατώμεθα, ὅτι ἕκαστος νεκρὸς πρέπει νὰ μένῃ ἐκεῖ, ὅπου ἔταξεν αὐτὸν ἡ θεία δικαιοσύνη. Κατωτέρω δὲ ὁ αὐτὸς Ἀβραὰμ θέλων ν’ ἀποδείξῃ οὐ μόνον ἀδύνατον τὴν εἰς τὸν κόσμον ἐπάνοδον τῶν νεκρῶν, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀνωφελῆ πρὸς σωτηρίαν τῶν ζώντων, οἵτινες μόνοι πρὸς τοῦτο μέσα ἔχουσι τὰ παραγγέλματα τῆς θρησκείας, προσθέτει ἐν τῷ τέλει τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἐδαφίου: «Εἰ Μωσέως καὶ τῶν προφητῶν οὐκ ἀκούουσιν, οὐδὲ ἐάν τις τῶν νεκρῶν ἀναστῇ, πεισθήσονται». [Κατὰ Λουκᾶν ις′. 19-31.] Τὰ ἐδάφια ταῦτα ἀρκοῦσι, νομίζομεν, ν’ ἀποδείξωσι τὸν ἀμιγῆ τερατικῶν ῥύπων χριστιανισμὸν πληρέστατα ἀποδεχόμενον τὸ ἀμετακίνητον τῶν νόμων τῆς φύσεως, οἵτινες τὴν πλάκα τοῦ τάφου σφραγίζουσιν ἀκραδάντως. Αἱ ὑπὸ τοῦ Σωτῆρος ἐνεργηθεῖσαι νεκραναστάσεις οὐδόλως ἀντιβαίνουσι κατ’ οὐσίαν εἰς τὸν θεμελιώδη τοῦτον νόμον· διότι καὶ ἐν αὐταῖς παρατηροῦμεν, ὅτι ψυχή, ἀπεκδυθεῖσα τὸ σῶμα, δὲν δύναται ἄλλως νὰ ἐπανέλθῃ εἰς τὴν γῆν, εἰμὴ μόνον ἀναλαμβάνουσα καὶ πάλιν τὸ ἐπίγειον αὐτῆς ἔνδυμα. Ἀλλ’ ἡ τοιαύτη σαρκικὴ ἀνάστασις οὐδὲν ἔχει κοινὸν πρὸς τὰς μεσαιωνικὰς δραπετεύσεις ἀσωμάτων ψυχῶν, καὶ τὰς σήμερον ἀκόμη πιστευομένας παρὰ πολλῶν ἐπιφοιτήσεις πνευμάτων εἰς τὰ χείλη πινακίου ἢ τοὺς πόδας μαγνητισθείσης τραπέζης. Ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐν αὐτῷ τῷ σκότει τῆς μεσαιωνικῆς ἀμαθείας δὲν ἔλειψαν ἐκ διαλειμμάτων λογικώτεροι ὁπωσοῦν θεολόγοι διδάσκοντες, ὅτι οἱ τεθνεῶτες μένουσιν αἰωνίως ἐν τῇ ὁρισθείσῃ αὐτοῖς κατὰ τὰ ἔργα των κατοικία· τὰ δὲ ὑπακούοντα εἰς τὰς ἐπικλήσεις τῶν μάγων φαντάσματα οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἦσαν, εἰμὴ αὐτὸς ὁ Διάβολος, ὅστις ἐλάμβανε κατ’ ἀρέσκειαν τὴν μορφὴν οἱουδήποτε προσκαλουμένου νεκροῦ, ἵνα ἐξαπατήσῃ τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς καὶ τὴν συνείδησιν τῶν ἀνθρώπων, παρέχων αὐτοῖς τὴν μικρὰν ἐλπίδα, ὅτι δύνανται τῇ βοηθείᾳ τῶν μαύρων πτερύγων του νὰ ὑπερβῶσι τὸ χάσμα, ὅπερ ἐστήριξεν ὁ Θεὸς μεταξὺ τῆς ζωῆς καὶ τοῦ θανάτου. Οἱ ἱερεῖς οὗτοι λέγουσιν ἐν ἀλληγορικῇ γλώσσῃ τὰ αὐτὰ περίπου, ὅσα ὁ ὀρθὸς λόγος καὶ ἡ Ἐπιστήμη κηρύττουσι καθ’ ἑκάστην ἄνευ περιφράσεων. Ἂν δὲ ὑποθέσωμεν, ὅτι μεταχειριζόμενοι τὴν λέξιν Διάβολος ὡς ἁπλοῦν ῥητορικὸν σχῆμα, οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἐσκόπουν ἢ νὰ προσωποποιήσωσι δι’ αὐτῆς τὴν μωρίαν καὶ τὴν σκοτοδίνην τοῦ νεκρομάντεως, ἀπατωμένου ὑπὸ τῶν φασμάτων τῆς νοσούσης κεφαλῆς του, τότε δυνάμεθα νὰ πίνωμεν ἀνενδοιάστως τὴν χεῖρα εἰς τοὺς καλοὺς τούτους θεολόγους, ἀναγορεύοντες αὐτοὺς ἀξίους ὑπερμάχους τῆς προόδου καὶ τῆς ἐπιστήμης. Δυστυχῶς ὅμως ὁ Διάβολος, ὅστις κατὰ τὴν ἐποχὴν ἐκείνην ἦτο κοσμοκράτωρ, εἶχεν, ὡς πάντες οἱ μεγάλοι βασιλεῖς, πληθὺν ἀνακτόρων. Ἐνησμενίζετο μὲν ἐνίοτε νὰ καταλύῃ ἐν τῇ κεφαλῇ τῶν νεκρομάντεων, ἀλλὰ τὸ προσφιλέστερον αὐτοῦ ἐνδιαίτημα ἦτο ἡ συνείδησις τῶν κακῶν ἱερέων, οὓς παρεκίνει ν’ ἀνανεῶσιν ἐν τοῖς τοῦ Ἰησοῦ ναοῖς τὰς ἀγυρτείας τῶν ἀρχαίων θυσιαστηρίων. Ἂν πάλιν φωσφορώδεις λάμψεις ἐπλανῶντο ὑπεράνω τοῦ ἕλους, αἱ λάμψεις αὗται ἦσαν αἱ λεγόμεναι ψυχαί, ὧν ἡ δίψα ἔπρεπε νὰ σβεσθῇ δι’ ἡγιασμένου ὕδατος, τοῦ ὁποίου ἡ πώλησις ἐπέτρεπεν εἰς τὸν ἱερέα, μεθύοντα ἐν τοῖς παρὰ πάσῃ τότε Ἐκκλησίᾳ πεπηγμένοις καπηλείοις, ν’ ἀνανεώσῃ τὸ εὐαγγελικὸν θαῦμα τῆς μετατροπῆς τοῦ ὕδατος εἰς οἶνον. Ἀλλὰ ταῦτα ἦσαν, φαίνεται, τὰ ἐλάχιστα ἁμαρτήματα, ὧν οἱ νεκροὶ παρεῖχον ἀφορμὴν εἰς ζῶντας. Κατὰ τοὺς ἀξιοπιστοτέρους τῶν χρονογράφων πλῆθος ἐγκλημάτων διεπράττοντο καθ’ ἑκάστην ὑπὸ τῶν βρυκολάκων, ἢ τοὐλάχιστον ἀπεδίδοντο εἰς αὐτούς. Ἐλῃστεύοντο ταμεῖα, ἠτιμάζοντο γυναῖκες, ἐπυρπολοῦντο δάση, ἄνθρωποι εὑρίσκοντο ἐν τῇ κλίνῃ των νεκροί, ἢ ἐξύπνουν ἠκρωτηριασμένοι. Τὸ δὲ περιεργότερον εἶναι, ὅτι οἱ ἐκ τοῦ ἄλλου κόσμου οὗτοι κακοῦργοι μόνους τοὺς εἰς τὴν δυσμένειαν τοῦ κλήρου ὑποπεσόντας ἐκακοποίουν. Ἡ ἀποκλειστικότης αὕτη τῶν βρυκολάκων ἔδωκεν ἀφορμὴν πολλῶν λήρων καὶ τολμηρῶν ὑποθέσεων εἰς κακεντρεχεῖς τινας ἱστοριογράφους. Πρέπει ὅμως καὶ νὰ ὁμολογήσωμεν, ὅτι, ἀφοῦ τὸ Εὐαγγέλιον ἀπαγορεύει ῥητῶς νὰ πιστεύωμεν εἰς βρυκόλακας, οἱ ταλαίπωροι ἱστορικοί, εὐαγγελικῶς σκεπτόμενοι, εἶχον καὶ ὀλίγον δίκαιον νὰ καταφεύγωσιν ἐν τῇ ἀμηχανίᾳ των εἰς ὑποθέσεις. Ἀλλ’, ἀφίνοντες ἕκαστον ὅπως βούλεται ν’ ἀποφασίσῃ μεταξὺ ἱερέων καὶ Εὐαγγελίου, περιοριζόμεθα νὰ παραθέσωμεν ὡς ἁπλοῦν δεῖγμα τῆς κακοηθείας τῶν τότε βρυκολάκων τὴν ἱστορίαν τοῦ τότε ἀρχιερέως Οὕδου, ἣν μέχρι σήμερον διηγοῦνται μετὰ φρίκης οἱ κάτοικοι τῆς Σαξωνίας. Ὁ καλὸς οὗτος ἐπίσκοπος τοῦ Μαγδεβούργου ἦτο πρᾷος, ἐλεήμων, σώφρων, πολυμαθής, ἀληθὴς ποιμήν, ἢ μᾶλλον πατὴρ τῶν πνευματικῶν αὑτοῦ τέκνων. Ἀλλὰ πάντα τὰ προτερήματα ταῦτα ἠσχημίζοντο ὑπὸ φοβεροῦ τινος δι’ ἱερέα τῆς ἐποχῆς ἐκείνης ἐλαττώματος. Ὁ Οὗδος, μὴ ἀρκούμενος ν’ ἀσκῇ ὁ ἴδιος πάσας τὰς χριστιανικὰς ἀρετάς, ἀπῄτει τὴν ἄσκησιν αὐτῶν καὶ παρὰ τῶν ὑπὸ τὰς διαταγάς του ῥασοφόρων. Βλέπων δὲ μετὰ λύπης εἰς οἷον βόρβοροι κακοηθείας ἐκυλίετο ὁ τότε κλῆρος, διενοήθη νὰ μεταχειρισθῇ κατὰ μίμησιν τῆς Ἀνατολικῆς Ἐκκλησίας τὸν γάμον ὡς ἀντιφάρμακον κατὰ τῆς ἀκολασίας τῶν κληρικῶν. Ἀρχόμενος λοιπὸν ἀπὸ ἑαυτοῦ τῆς μεταρρυθμίσεως, ὁ καλὸς ἀρχιερεύς, καί τοι ἑβδομηκοντούτης ἤδη καὶ καταβεβλημένος ὑπὸ τῆς σκληραγωγίας καί τῆς μελέτης, ἐξήγαγεν ἐκ γειτονικοῦ μοναστηρίου ὁμήλικά τινα σχεδὸν ἡγουμένην, ἣν ἐνυμφεύθη δημοσίᾳ, προτρέπων τοὺς μὴ δυναμένους νὰ τηρήσωσι τὴν ἁγνότητα εἰς μίμησιν τοῦ παραδείγματος του. Ἡ προαίρεσις τοῦ γέροντος ἐπισκόπου ἦτο ἴσως καλή, ἀλλ’ ἡ ὥρα τῆς μεταρρυθμίσεως δὲν εἶχε σημάνει ἀκόμη ὥστε σκώμματα μόνον καὶ μίση ἐπεσώρευσε κατὰ τῆς πολιᾶς κεφαλῆς του ὁ πρόδρομος οὗτος τοῦ Λουθήρου ἐκ μέρους τῶν ἱερέων, προτιμώντων νὰ καταπατῶσι καθ’ ἑκάστην τὴν ἑβδόμην ἐντολὴν τοῦ Θεοῦ μᾶλλον, ἢ νὰ παραβῶσι τοὺς κανόνας τῆς Δυτικῆς Ἐκκλησίας. Εἰς τοιαύτην εὑρίσκοντο τὰ πράγματα κατάστασιν, ὅτε πρωΐαν τινὰ ὁ Ἀρχιερεὺς Οὗδος εὑρέθη νεκρὸς ἐν μέσῳ τοῦ νάρθηκος τῆς μητροπόλεως. Ἡ ἀποκεκομμένη κεφαλὴ ἐμόρφαζεν ἐντὸς ἕλους πεπηγμένου αἵματος, τὸ δὲ σῶμα ἐκαλύπτετο διὰ μόνου τοῦ νυκτικοῦ χιτῶνος. Ὁ ἐπίσκοπος, ἁρπαγεὶς προφανῶς ἀπὸ τῆς κλίνης του, εἶχε μετακομισθῆ εἰς τὴν Ἐκκλησίαν, ὅπου ἐκαρατομήθη. Ἀλλὰ τίνες ἦταν οἱ δήμιοι ἢ μᾶλλον οἱ δολοφόνοι; Ἡ ἐν τῷ δωματίῳ τοῦ ἐπισκόπου κοιμωμένη γυνὴ διηγήθη τρέμουσα, ὅτι μεσούσης ἤδη τῆς νυκτός, ἀφυπνίσθη ὑπὸ ἀπαισίας τινὸς φωνῆς ψαλμῳδούσης: Cessa de ludo [Παῦσε διασκεδάζων, Οὗδε! ἱκανῶς διεσκεδάσας ἤδη.] Εἶτα ἀνοιχθείσης τῆς θύρας, εἰσώρμησαν εἰς τὸν κοιτῶνα μαῦραί τινες μορφαί, αἵτινες, ἁρπάσασαι τὸν ἐπίσκοπον ἐκ τῆς κλίνης, ἀπήγαγον αὐτὸν πρὸς τὴν ἐκκλησίαν, ἡ δὲ γυνὴ ἐλιποθύμησεν. Ἐν τῇ ἐπισκοπῇ ἐφιλοξενεῖτο τότε ἐφημέριός τις ὀνόματι Φρειδερῖκος, ὅστις ἐπεδίωκε δι’ ἀσκητικῆς διαίτης τὸν τίτλον τοῦ Ἁγίου. Ὁ ἱερεὺς οὗτος εἶχε διέλθει τὴν ἀποφράδα ἐκείνην νύκτα ἐν τῇ ἐκκλησίᾳ, δεόμενος τῷ Ὑψίστῳ νὰ ἐκδιώξῃ τοὺς δαίμονας, τὰς προοδευτικὰς δηλαδὴ ἰδέας, αἵτινες κατεῖχον τὸν Οὗδον. Ὁ ναὸς ἦτο ἔρημος, ἡ νὺξ ἀσέληνος, καὶ ὁ πτωχὸς ἐφημέριος ἔτρεμεν ἐν τῷ σκότει, ὅτε φοβεραὶ κραυγαὶ μετὰ θρήνων μεμιγμέναι ἀντήχησαν ἐν τῷ σκευοφυλακείῳ, ἐκ τοῦ ὁποίου ἐξελθὼν μετ’ ὀλίγον ἀνὴρ λευχείμων καὶ πελωρίους πτέρυγας φέρων ἐπὶ τῶν νώτων ἔσπευσε ν’ ἀνάψῃ τὰ κηρία τοῦ θυσιαστηρίου. Ὁ Φρειδερῖκος εἶδε τότε ἄνθρωπον ἡμίγυμνον, τὸν ὁποῖον δαιμονόσχημα φάσματα ἐκράτουν δεδεμένον· ἀλλ’ ἡ προσοχὴ αὐτοῦ προσηλώθη καὶ πάλιν εἰς τὴν θύραν τοῦ σκευοφυλακείου, δι’ ἧς εἰσήρχετο πρωτοφανὴς καὶ καταπληκτική τις λιτανεία. Ἐπὶ κεφαλῆς ἐβάδιζον οἱ ἅγιοι προστάται τῆς Μαγδεβουργείου Ἐκκλησίας, διακρινόμενοι ἐκ τῶν ὑπὸ τῆς παραδόσεως ἀποδιδομένων αὐτοῖς παρασήμων· μετὰ τούτους εἰσῆλθον ἄγγελοι λευκοφόροι, ἡγούμενοι γυναικός, ἣν ἐκ τοῦ χρυσοῦ στεφάνου καὶ κυανοῦ πέπλου πᾶς τις ἠδύνατο εὐκόλως νὰ γνωρίσῃ ὡς τὴν Παναγίαν. Τούτοις εἵποντο ἕτεροι ἄγγελοι ἐνδεδυμένοι ἐρυθρομέλανας μανδύας, ἐν οἷς διεκρίνετο ὁ ἅγιος Μιχαὴλ, πάλλων τὴν πλατυσίδηρον ῥομφαίαν του. Τελευταῖος δὲ εἰσῆλθεν ἐν μέσῳ κηροφόρων ἀνὴρ φέρων ἀκάνθινον στέφανον καὶ βαρὺν ἐπὶ τῶν ὤμων σταυρόν. Ἅπας ὁ ὑπεράνθρωπος οὗτος κλῆρος ἐτοποθετήθη ἐπὶ τῶν στασειδίων· ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς, ἐκεῖνος τοὐλάχιστον, ὅστις ἔφερε τὰ ἐμβλήματα τοῦ Γολγοθᾶ, ἐκάθησεν ἐπ’ αὐτοῦ τοῦ ἀρχιερατικοῦ θρόνου. Οἱ δαίμονες ἤρχισαν τότε κατηγοροῦντες τὸν ἐπίσκοπον, οὗ καὶ αὐτὸ τὸ στόμα ἐκράτουν στερεῶς δεδεμένον. Ὁ κατηγορούμενος, προσκληθεὶς ν’ ἀπολογηθῇ, δὲν ἠδυνήθη ν’ ἀπαντήσῃ οὐδὲ γρῦ, εἴτε συναισθανόμενος τὸ βάρος τῶν ἁμαρτιῶν του, εἴτε στενοχωρούμενος ὑπὸ τοῦ φιμώτρου. Ἡ εὔσπλαγχνος Παναγία ἐπειράθη τότε νὰ μεσιτεύσῃ ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ, γονυπετήσασα πρὸ τοῦ Σωτῆρος ἀλλ’ ὅτε ἤκουσεν ὁποῖον ἀσελγείας τέρας ἦτο ὁ γέρων ἐπίσκοπος, τολμήσας νὰ νυμφευθῇ γυναῖκα μεμνηστευμένην τῷ υἱῷ της, εὐθὺς ἀπεσύρθη ἡ Θεοτόκος, καλύπτουσα διὰ τῶν χειρῶν τὸ ἐρυθρὸν ὑπὸ τῆς αἰδοῦς πρόσωπόν της. Ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἔνευσε τότε τῷ Ἀγγέλῳ Μιχαήλ, τοῦ ὁποίου ἡ μάχαιρα ἤστραψε καὶ κατέπεσεν εἶτα δὲ ἐσβέσθησαν αἱ λαμπάδες, καὶ τὸ πᾶν ἠφανίσθη ἐν τῷ σκότει. Ὁ ἄφωνος μάρτυς τῆς σκηνῆς ταύτης, νομίζων ὅτι ἠπατᾶτο ὑπὸ ὀπτασίας νυκτερινῆς, προεχώρησε μετὰ δειλίας πρὸς τὸ θυσιαστήριον, ἀλλὰ προσκόψας κατ’ ἄψυχου ὄγκου κατελήφθη ὑπὸ τρόμου, καὶ ἔτρεξε δρομαῖος νὰ κλεισθῇ ἐν τῷ κελλείῳ του. Τὴν δὲ ἐπιοῦσαν οἱ ὑπηρέται τῆς ἐκκλησίας εὗρον παρὰ τοὺς πόδας τοῦ θυσιαστηρίου τὸ ἀκέφαλον σῶμα τοῦ ἐπισκόπου. Τὸ κατηραμένον λείψανον ἐρρίφθη εἰς τοὺς λύκους, καὶ αἱ αἱμοβαφεῖς πλάκες ἀφέθησαν ἀσπόγγιστοι, καλυφθεῖσαι μόνον διὰ μικροῦ τάπητος. Κατὰ πᾶσαν δ’ ἔκτοτε χειροτονίαν ἕκαστος νέος ἐπίσκοπος Μαγδεβούργου ἐφέρετο ἐκεῖ ἐπισήμως ὑπὸ τοῦ συνηγμένου κλήρου, καί, ἀφαιρουμένου τοῦ τάπητος, ἐδεικνύοντο αὐτῷ τὰ ἐρυθρὰ ἴχνη τῆς τιμωρίας τοῦ ἱεροσύλου. Τὴν ἱστορίαν ταύτην ἐξελεξάμην μεταξὺ μυρίων τοιούτων ὧν βρίθουσιν οἱ χρονογραφοὶ καὶ τὰ μεσαιωνικὰ συναξάρια, ὡς ὑπὲρ πᾶσαν ἄλλην ἀποδεικνύουσαν οὐ μόνον εἰς ποῖον βαθμὸν ἐξαχρειώσεως ἔφθασεν ὁ τότε κλῆρος, ἀλλὰ καὶ πόσον συγγενεύει μετὰ τῆς ἀσεβείας ἡ δεισιδαιμονία οὐδὲν τῷ ὄντι βδελυρώτερον καὶ ἐνταυτῷ ἀσεβέστερον τῆς εἰς τὸν Ἰησοῦν ἀποδιδομένης ταύτης δολοφονίας. Ἂν τὸ χάσμα, τὸ χωρίζον ἡμᾶς ἀπὸ τῶν νεκρῶν, δὲν ἦτο ἀνυπέρβατον, ἂν αὐτὸς ὁ Σωτὴρ ἠδύνατο, δίχως νὰ διαταράξῃ τοὺς κειμένους νόμους, νὰ ἐπανέρχηται πρὸς ἡμᾶς ὑπὸ ἄλλην μορφήν, πλὴν τῆς μεταλήψεως, ἀντὶ τοῦ Οὕδου βεβαίως ἤθελε πατάξει τοὺς αὐτουργοὺς τῆς αἰσχρᾶς ἐκείνης κωμῳδίας, τὸν δὲ δυστυχῆ ἐπίσκοπον ἤθελεν ἐνεγείρει, λέγων αὐτῷ ὡς τῇ μοιχαλίδι «ὕπαγε καὶ μηκέτι ἁμάρτανε». Ἂν τὰ ἐν οὐρανῷ μακάρια πνεύματα ἠδύναντο νὰ ὁπλισθῶσι δι’ αἰσθητῆς ῥομφαίας πρὸς τιμωρίαν τῶν ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς κακουργούντων, οὔτε οἱ ἱεροεξετασταὶ ἤθελον προφθάσει τοσούτους νὰ καύσωσιν ἂνθρώπους, οὔτε ἡ ἁγία Εἰρήνη νὰ τυφλώσῃ τὸν υἱόν, οὐδ’ ὁ Ἀλέξανδρος Βοργίας νὰ φαρμακεύσῃ τοὺς ὑπηκόους του διὰ τοῦ ἄρτου τῆς Εὐχαριστίας. Ἀλλὰ τὸ θανατόνειν δέδοται εἰς μόνους τοὺς ἀνθρώπους, τὰς νόσους καὶ τὸ γῆρας. Ὁ δὲ Θεὸς εἶναι μόνης τῆς ζωῆς ὁ ὑπέρτατος διανομεύς, καὶ οὔτε εἰς τοὺς ἀγγέλους ἐπιτάσσει ἔργα δημίων, οὔτε παρὰ τῶν ἱερέων του ἀπαιτεῖ νὰ στέλλωσιν ἀνθρώπους εἰς τὴν κόλασιν δι’ ἀναθεμάτων.
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THE VAMPIRES OF MEDIEVAL TIMES
Rendered by Vassilis C. Militsis
During the so called Middle Ages, which was an era of approximate one thousand-year-old gestation of our modern civilization, the unexplained workings of nature, such as the arcane phenomena of the electrical and magnetic fluids, which are still observable today, as well as the multitude of the prevailing maladies of the nerves and the brain visited by afflictions and the monastic idleness of those times, had allegedly been attributed to various supernatural entities. The vague shapes, which the ecstatic gazers pursued amidst the clouds, were named sylphs, the sparks of flames or the hovering shimmer over marshes [the will o’ the wisp] salamanders, the fumes of the plains after the rain gnomes, and so forth. Those were bequests by the adolescent polytheistic antiquity, mostly graceful figments of imagination, which were also accepted by Socrates himself, who considered it unworthy of a philosopher to dispute them through some fastidious and boorish, as he maintained, method. But the advocates of religion proved themselves less lenient to the popular superstitions than the Greek philosopher. They transformed the elementary natural forces into real horned demons, and the seemingly possessed by them were persecuted through anathemas, fire and sword. This hot pursuit lent a high status to such dreams; and the benign ghosts of the ancients, to which the Church attributed malignant powers, unknown heretofore, spread out the gloom and the terror throughout the Middle Ages. Pure Reason had then retired while critical thinking had fallen into profound slumber. The language of science had been cut off at its root. Strangely enough, the confusion of the intellectual powers and the perpetual stimulation of the nervous system rendered the people of the times timid, apprehensive and as gullible as children. But even the dead themselves, gripped by this epidemic anguish, could not find rest in their graves. Sighs and moans resounded in the cemeteries and the funeral cerements were often stained by drops of warm blood. Nobody then thought to ascribe such occurrences to premature burials of apparently dead people. And now to the fear of demons, the horror of vampires was also added. Some scholars, instead of attributing the latter superstition to the ignorance of the people of the epoch, nurtured by the greed of the clergy, they ascribed it to the very spirit of Christianity, evangelizing life in the hereafter. But this tenet, hurled to a great height, was destined to fall by itself. The doctrine of immortality had preceded Christianity; specters, necromancy and the transmigration of the souls are present in the peoples of the East, the Greeks and in the Scandinavian mythology. These superstitions are not only supported, but they are also disapproved by certain passages of the Holy Writ. Thus Saint Luke portrays Abraham addressing the heartless rich man, who was in Hades in torment, and imploring for the dispatch of the dead beggar Lazarus to the upper world to deter his five brothers from the way of perdition: “And besides all this, between us and you there is a great chasm fixed: so that those who wish to come over from here to you will not be able and none may cross from there to us.” Luke 16:26 [New American Standard Bible] This means, unless we are deceived, that the departed ones are to remain where divine justice appointed them to. Later in the passage, wishing to prove that the rise of the dead is not only unfeasible but also unavailing for the salvation of the living, who have the commandments of religion as the means thereof, Abraham adds at the close: “If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” Luke 16:19-31 [New International Version (NIV)] We think that these passages suffice to prove most fully that unadulterated Christianity, free from shameful monstrosities, accepts the unaltered natural laws, which inexorably seal the gravestone. And the raising of the dead acted by our Savior is virtually in no way against this fundamental law; for in these resurrections it is observed that the soul, divested from its body, cannot return to earth unless it is invested its terrestrial raiment again. But this fleshy return to life has nothing to do with the medieval transmigrations of bodiless souls, and with the fact that in our days many believe in visitations of spirits on the brim of a plate or at the foot of a magnetized table. But in the gloom of the medieval ignorance itself, there were intermittently many sensible theologians who preached that the departed ones stay eternally in their abodes assigned to them according to their deeds. And the ghosts obeying the summons of the wizards are none other from the Devil himself, who assumed, according to his liking, the form of any invoked dead spirit in order to cloud the eyes and the conscience of people, granting them the meager hope that they, through the aid of his black wings, can transcend the chasm, which God fixed between life and death. These priests spoke figuratively about the same things which pure reason and science continually hold without equivocal speech. If we suppose that by using the word devil as a mere rhetorical figure of speech they had only in mind to personify thereby the folly and the confusion of the necromancer, deceived by the specters of his ailing mind, then we can unfalteringly praise these good theologians acclaiming them as champions of progress and science. Unfortunately, however, the Devil, who in those times was the ruler of the world, as all the great kings, he had a multitude of palates. He often found pleasure to dwell in the necromancers’ minds, but his most favorite habitat was the conscience of bad priests, whom he urged to renew the quackeries of the ancient altars in the church of Jesus. The phosphorescent luminescence that hovered over swamps was taken for souls whose thirst ought to be quenched by holy water, the sale of which allowed the priest, who used to carouse in the pubs near his church, to renew the Cana miracle of changing water into wine. But these, seemingly, were petty transgressions, which the dead caused the living to perpetrate them. According to the most reliable chroniclers the majority of crimes were committed daily by vampires, or at least they were ascribed to them. Coffers were robbed, women were disgraced, forests were put to flames, and people were found dead or mutilated in their beds. And the most curious thing of all was that these out-worldly evildoers molested only those who had fallen into disfavor of the clergy. This exclusiveness of vampires gave rise to malicious historians who wrote a host of rigmaroles and bold conjectures. However, we ought to acknowledge that, as long as the Gospel expressly forbids us to believe in vampires, the poor historians, thinking by the Book, were somewhat right to resort to such guesswork in their perplexity. But letting each one decide between the priests and the Gospel, we are confined to cite a simple instance of the malignity of the vampires of the time in the case of the prelate Udo, to whom the inhabitants of Saxony refer in horror. This good bishop of Magdeburg was meek, merciful, wise, and learned – a real pastor or rather a father of his spiritual children. But all these assets were defaced by a drawback of a hideous priest of the times. Udo, not being satisfied to wield all the Christian virtues himself, he required their enactment by the men of the cloth under his commands. Seeing to his grief in which mire of profligacy the clergy of the time had wallowed, he thought of employing the marriage of clergymen, emulating the practices of Eastern Church, as an antidote to the dissipation of the priests. Commencing the reformation himself, the good prelate, though he was in his seventies and careworn with hardships and meditation, he wedded in public his coeval abbess from a neighboring convent, prompting those who could not observe the purity of celibacy to follow his example. The old bishop’s option was rather good, but the proper time for such reformation had not yet arrived; therefore, only irony and hatred were heaped upon the hoary head of this harbinger of Luther by the priests who preferred to trespass daily God’s seventh commandment instead of violating the rules of Western Church. Things being so, one morning this prelate, Udo, was found dead in the narthex of the cathedral. The severed head grimaced horribly amidst a pool of gore, while his body was covered only with his nightgown. The bishop was dragged violently out of his bed and carried to the church, where he was beheaded. But who were the executioners or rather the slayers? The bishop’s wife that had been sleeping next to him in the room recounted in a trembling voice that in the middle of the night she was roused by some dreadful incantation: Cessa de ludo [Udo, refrain from leisure; you have had enough pleasure] And then some black figures opened the door, burst into the chamber, and snatching the bishop from the bed, they carried him to the church. Then his wife swooned. At that time, a vicar called Frederic was hosted in the bishopric and he aspired to be considered a saint through an ascetic life. This divine had spent that fateful night in church praying to the Most High to drive out the demons, i.e. the neoteric ideas, which possessed Udo. At that moonless night and in the empty church, the poor vicar was trembling in the darkness, when dreadful clamoring and wailing resounded in the sacristy, wherefrom a white-clad man with enormous wings exited and hurried to light the candles of the altar. Thereafter, Frederic saw a half-naked man, whom demon-shaped specters held in shackles; but his attention was again directed to the door of the sacristy, which an extraordinary and wondrous litany entered. At the head of the procession were the patron saints of the Magdeburg Church, who were distinguished by their traditional decorations; after them there entered angels in white apparels, before a woman, who could easily be recognized by all as the Virgin Mary from her gold crown and blue veil. Four more angels dressed in red and black cloaks followed suit; one of them was Archangel Michael, brandishing his iron broadsword. The last to enter amidst a torch-bearing crowd was a man with a crown of thorns and a bulky cross upon his shoulder. This entire supernatural clergy took their places in the pews, and Jesus, supposedly the one bearing the emblems of Calvary, sat in the hierarchical throne. Then the demons began to fling accusations against the bishop, whose mouth they held tightly gagged. The accused was not able to defend himself, either being under the burden of his sins or impeded by the gag on his mouth. The merciful Virgin Mary attempted to intervene in his favor, kneeling before our Savior. But on hearing what a lewd monster the senescent bishop had been daring to marry a woman betrothed to her son, the Mother of God shrank back, covering her face with her hands and blushing with shame. Jesus then beckoned to Archangel Michael, whose sword flashed and fell; shortly the candles went out and everything vanished in darkness. The speechless witness of this scene, thinking that he was deceived by a nocturnal vision, proceeded fearfully to the altar, but stumbling on a lifeless object, he was overwhelmed by terror and fled into his cell. On morrow the church wardens found the headless body of the bishop at the foot of the altar. The accursed relic was cast prey to the wolves and the bloodstained cobbles of the floor were left unscrubbed and covered by a small mat. When a new bishop of Magdeburg was to be ordained, he was officially escorted by the assembled clergy to the foot of the altar, where the mat was removed and the evidence of the punishment of the sacrilegious clergyman was shown. Among the multitude of abounding chronicles and medieval collections, above all others, I have selected this story which proves not only the extent of depravity in which the clergy of the time had sunk, but also the affinity of the superstition to the most abominable profanity of ascribing this assassination to Jesus. But if the chasm that separates the living from the dead were not insurmountable, if our Savior himself could, without disturbing the natural laws, visit us assuming any other form besides the holy Eucharist, instead of Udo he would strike the perpetrators of that obscene comedy, and he would raise the wretched bishop, saying to him as he had said to the adulterous woman: “Go and sin no more.” If the angelic spirits could arm themselves with real swords to punish the evil-doers on earth, the Inquisitors would not have managed to burn so many people at the stake; neither would Irene of Athens have had her son’s eyes gouged out nor would Alexander Borgia have poisoned his faithful with the wafer of the Eucharist. But death is inevitable for humans, either through old age or disease, and God is its supreme dispatcher; he neither charges his angels with the tasks of executioners nor does he demand that his priests consign people to eternal damnation through anathemas. 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