d silver.[19] The magic also could be broken by other mixtures,
by cast balls, and by magically consecrated weapons. Rye bread which
had been leavened and baked on Easter night, was rubbed crosswise over
the edge of the steel, and signs were indelibly impressed on blades and
barrels: it was known how to cast balls which killed without injuring
the skin, others which must draw blood, and some which broke every
invulnerability; these were prepared by mixtures of pulverized grains
of corn, antimony, and thunder-stones, and cooled in poison. But these
arts were considered supernatural and dangerous. Besides these they
tried "natural" devices which might be resorted to with advantage, even
by an honourable soldier. They imagined they could prepare gunpowder
with a mixture of pounded dogs' bones, which would make no report.
Powder was also prepared by which the person shot was only stunned for
hours; other powder that did not explode, even when glowing steel was
inserted. By a mixture of borax and quicksilver they produced a mining
powder by which the enemy's pieces were blown up, in case there was not
time to spike them. They sought after the secret of giving a man double
strength without magic.

There was a peculiar and also very old kind of magic, which spell-bound
the enemy by mystic sentences, which were recited in moments of danger.
The adept could fix whole troops of horsemen and infantry: in the same
way, by other sentences, they could dissolve the spell. There was still
another kind of sorcery; horsemen were made to appear on the field of
battle, that is to say, when support was required in imminent danger,
deceptive appearance was produced, as if soldiers were approaching in
the distance. Both these conjurations are relics of the heathen occult
sciences, the echoes of which may still be discovered in manifold tales
and traditions, even up to the present day.

The gloomy provost was the man in the regiment who was held in the most
awe; he was naturally considered as pre-eminently an adept. In 1618, it
was supposed that the executioner of Pilsen could, with the help of an
assistant, fire daily three fatal balls against the camp of Mansfeld;
after the capture of the city, he was hanged on a special gallows. The
provost of the Hatzfeld army of 1636 was still more versed in sorcery:
he was killed by the Swedes with an axe, because he was magically
hardened. It was very much in the interest of these authorities to keep
u