their insupportable stench; the abbot Eugendis could tell the virtues and vices of those whom he met by the perfume or the stink. Saint Hilarion, as S. Jerome relates, could even distinguish a man’s sins by the smell of a warm garment or cloak. Blessed Dominica of Paradise, passing a soldier in the street, knew by the foul smell that he had abandoned the faith, to which, however, her fervid exhortations and prayers eventually restored him. Saint Bridget of Sweden was wellnigh suffocated by the fetor of a notorious sinner who addressed her. Saint Catherine of Siena experienced the same sensations; whilst Saint Lutgarde, a Cistercian nun, on meeting a vicious reprobate perceived a decaying smell of leprosy and disease.
On the other hand, the Saints themselves have diffused sweetest fragrances, and actually “the odour of sanctity” is more than a mere phrase. One day in 1566, when he had entered the church at Somascha, a secluded hamlet between Milan and Bergamo, S. Charles Borromeo exclaimed: “I know by the heavenly fragrance in this sanctuary that a great Servant of God lies buried here!” The church, in fact, contained the body of S. Jerome Emiliani, who died in 1587. S. Herman Joseph could be traced through the corridors of Steinfeld by the rare perfumes he scattered as he walked. The same was the case with that marvellous mystic S. Joseph of Cupertino. S. Thomas Aquinas smelt of male frankincense. I myself have known a priest of fervent faith who at times diffused the odour of incense. Maria-Vittoria of Genoa, Ida of Louvain, S. Colette, S. Humiliana, were fragrant as sweet flowers. S. Francis of Paul and Venturini of Bergamo scattered heavenly aromas when they offered the Holy Sacrifice. The pus of S. John of the Cross gave forth a strong scent of lilies.
Miss Murray has worked out her thesis with no inconsiderable ingenuity, but when details are considered, historically examined, and set in their due proportions, it must be concluded that the theory of the continuity of an ancient religion is baseless. Her book is called A Study in Anthropology, and here we can, I think, at once put our finger upon the fundamental mistake. Anthropology alone offers no explanation of Witchcraft. Only the trained theologian can adequately treat the subject. An amount of interesting
