One Devil Too Many: Understanding the Language of Magic Spells in the English Renaissance ANTHONY OLIVEIRA University of Toronto
[email protected] In the Details: The Theology of James Clerk Maxwell Sint mihi dei Acherontis propitii! Valeat numen triplex Jehovoe! Ignei, aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete! Orientis princeps Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris: per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo, signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc surgat nobis dicatus Mephistophilis! (Faustus 1.3.16-24) IN THE EARLY 1590S, IN THE SOUTH OF ENGLAND, A COMPANY OF ACTORS WAS PASSING THROUGH Exeter, touring their production of Christopher Marlowe’s The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus. Touring was by no means as lucrative as playing in London, but plague and licensing issues had shut the theatres and ground the clockwork of city life to a halt (it is during this downtime, for example, that Shakespeare is frequently imagined to have found time for his sonnet sequence—perhaps an income-supplementing private commission that turned into something rather else), making life on the road a steady, if unglamorous, alternative, and Marlowe’s Woodcut from the cover of 1619 quarto printing of Marlowe’s Faustus Faustus, with its broad spectacle of magic and witchcraft, had proved a crowd-pleasing favourite. But according to an early 17th century commonplace book, as the actor playing Faustus that night began to intone Marlowe’s